and every battle must be ended
Apr. 21st, 2022 07:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
The Clubhouse is not as busy these days. Miles and Peter both appear to be busy, and Quicksilver comes and goes as he will, sometimes at speeds too high for Steve to get a good look at him. As a consequence, the rooms that Steve claimed for his own have become about 10% sleeping quarters and 90% art studio.
If he's honest with himself, he's pretty happy. There are things going on at home that worry him, political currents that make him want to speak out, or scream; petty battles that don't require his input, especially now that he's half the man he used to be in the most literal fashion possible. Some days (most days) he aches to put on the suit and pick up the shield and try to fix things. But other days he paints a few delicate lines on a canvas and watching the sheen of oil paint shimmer in the studio lights makes something in him feel stable and at home for the first time in decades.
Today, he's actually got medical textbooks spread all over one of the booths in the central room of the Clubhouse, because he's about to get a crash course in first aid training for street medics, and if Sam or Bucky figures out what he's doing, they'll have kittens. Learning first aid isn't a problem, but the idea that he'd wade into a protest with a med kit and a chip on his shoulder is not one his close friends wish to entertain.
He's not sure he'll ever use this information, but it feels like doing something. That's important.
If he's honest with himself, he's pretty happy. There are things going on at home that worry him, political currents that make him want to speak out, or scream; petty battles that don't require his input, especially now that he's half the man he used to be in the most literal fashion possible. Some days (most days) he aches to put on the suit and pick up the shield and try to fix things. But other days he paints a few delicate lines on a canvas and watching the sheen of oil paint shimmer in the studio lights makes something in him feel stable and at home for the first time in decades.
Today, he's actually got medical textbooks spread all over one of the booths in the central room of the Clubhouse, because he's about to get a crash course in first aid training for street medics, and if Sam or Bucky figures out what he's doing, they'll have kittens. Learning first aid isn't a problem, but the idea that he'd wade into a protest with a med kit and a chip on his shoulder is not one his close friends wish to entertain.
He's not sure he'll ever use this information, but it feels like doing something. That's important.
no subject
Date: 2022-04-22 05:47 am (UTC)The Nexus was almost too loud after the silence of Paris. The sight of people overwhelming in some way, which just had the teen withdrawing near-immediately when he realized where he was, that he still existed for all that trying to retreat back through the door he'd come through did nothing. He assumed that meant that Ladybug had done what she'd needed, that the timelines were fixed but...
Well it left him even more at a loss than before. And admittedly more close to panic than he felt safe being with so many others around. But he managed to bite it back enough to avoid people, taking to rooftops to dart to the closest thing to a safe space he knew of in the Nexus.
Which meant it wouldn't be long before Steve would hear the sounds of movement in the upstairs of the Clubhouse- should he investigate Adrian hadn't realized that he'd been heard, just... gotten to the middle of the room before he simply sank to sit, unable to help the faint tremor coursing through him. And he definitely looked different than any of the other times Steve had seen him, the costume a sterile white instead of black, eyes a startling, uneasy sort of blue. It gave an air of something unpleasant rather than the barely suppressed air of mischief that Adrien usually carried as Chat, that was for certain.
no subject
Date: 2022-04-24 12:16 am (UTC)His first glance at Adrien tells him something is quite wrong, and yet having seen him both in costume and in street clothes leaves him sure of who he's looking at. Unless this is an alternate, but it seems unlikely that an alternate would wander into the Clubhouse.
"...uh," he says softly, concerned by the trembling. "Hey, pal. Do you recognize me?"
Adrien isn't the only one that looks a little different, after all. Steve is about a foot shorter and nearly a hundred pounds lighter.
no subject
Date: 2022-04-24 12:24 am (UTC)"...Steve?"
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Date: 2022-04-24 02:13 am (UTC)It hurts. He can't protect them well now, if he ever could, but in a way this is exactly what he built this place for.
He comes a few steps closer and kneels on the floor next to him, not quite close enough to invade his space bubble, but enough to put himself within reach. "Yeah, it's me. Some weird things happened back home. I'm the same guy, more or less. Just a different kind of body."
"It's been a while. I'm glad you're here." His voice is gentle. "You can stay as long as you want to."
no subject
Date: 2022-04-24 02:20 am (UTC)The teen missed biting back the toneless little bit of a laugh that slipped from him. Glad you're here. Would he be glad if he knew what Adrien had done? No, surely not. No one would be glad.
"Likely for the best," Mumbled more than anything. "Don't... have anywhere else to go."