revivalproject | Steve Rogers

Entry tags:

Steve Rogers | OTA

WHO: Steve and You?
WHERE: Agrii ship in the water area
WHAT: A pool party!!
WHEN: Around debates time
WARNINGS: Not sure, will edit!

Steve has been trying to get in touch with the Agrii for days now without any luck. So far it's mostly just been hanging out by the water. And a few of them can really hold their breath a long time, it seems. They seem uneasy if he swims too far, so he sticks by the shallower bit of the pool for now.

If nothing else, the lush greenery is a nice change of scenery, and some days there's all this bountiful delicious food, such that he hasn't had better since before arriving here.

So, one day, after fruitlessly searching around by himself and not finding any better leads, he invites a few fellow He-Rows over for what appears to be a pool party. It's open to anyone who happens to make it through the thick botany, and he's definitely trying to encourage the younger Agrii to come play with them. Food and drink are just from the mess hall, and the games are simple ones like a hand-drawn deck of cards, and sitting on each other's shoulders trying to knock off your opponent.

If anyone wants to play that game with him, he'd definitely make a better root than pusher - don't worry, he'll be sure to keep his balance, so long as your character wants to keep playing.

Partway through he gets tasked with going back to get more ice or snacks or something, so feel free to bump into him then or in his yellow speedo (that he most definitely did not pick out himself) and towel, gathering supplies. You'll definitely score an invitation if you ask.

Then, when the 'party' starts winding down, Steve's maybe a little disappointed in not having made much progress, though he's sure a few of the younger Agrii might be coming around to them, so it's not entirely a fruitless endeavor. But he's gotten his hands on a piece of paper and graphite, and he might even ask your character to stand still for a second, as they look really nice under this foliage, and it'll just take a few minutes, if they don't mind.

[ OoC: Feel free to respond to any of the things Steve is doing or throw up your own toplevel so other people can tag you at the 'party'! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

That sounded more like the kind of reason Steve would reliably give for just about anything--he also said he kept his underwear drawer so organized for the good of the country. What Tony wasn't so used to hearing, and what he had to gently push, was, "You don't do a lot for you." That this one big gamble had worked out so spectacularly should have made him a hedonist.

No, he doesn't. "I do enough for me," he says. It's not true, but, it's not like there's anything he can indulge in here. Not that he isn't already.

"I'm playing cards with you, aren't I?"

"Ah-huh..." Tony uttered dubiously, mouth left open to slide his skeptical tongue along his too sharp for that canine. "This is entirely for your personal pleasure, that's why you approached me and I'm finding it so easy to hold your attention."

"You don't think I give you enough of my attention?" he asks, looking over at Tony dubiously. "I'm always spending time with you."

"You are?" Tony replied, looking genuinely surprised, and maybe his perspective was a little skewed because after a moment, the strongest accusation he could produce in return was, "You went to get ice without me." He held his lips pursed with his chin raised slightly as he delicately played his cards, like he had made a solid argument and couldn't be budged.

Steve raises a brow. "You wanted to come with me, dressed in nothing but a swimsuit, to go get ice for the party, just to come back?"

He looks Tony in the eye and then settles back a bit. "Okay, spill. What's the problem?"

There were plenty of logical reasons, that swimsuit thing for one, that was dangerous, that meant Steve should have had some cover, but while Tony was working up this excuse with his hand twirling in the air busily and very much not meeting that eye contact, he realized this wasn't his weapon of choice for a reason. Deflection was much more effective, and he challenged, "How is this about me? We were talking about you pleasuring yourself."

"It's always about you, Tony." Unfortunately for Tony, Steve's already had enough of his deflection and tactics. "We were talking about how I didn't invite you to come with me. Which, you could have, it's not like I would've stopped you."

It wasn't even a two-man job.

That was an accusation that Tony hadn't heard in a while, and it had him visibly holding his tongue with a humourless laugh. It was a good thing someone finally showed up to be honest with him, but now Tony really didn't want to talk about how much attention he needed and let his focus stray somewhere over Steve's shoulder. His brow furrowed, mouth dropping open in surprise, and he asked, "Is that Bucky out there?" Expecting that to be sufficiently confusing, he took his chance to snatch up as many cards as possible to add to his pile, further blowing up the conversation with an obvious bout of cheating.

Steve knits his brows as he looks back, and says: "I don't see him," and then: "Cheap trick, Tony." He has an eidetic memory, Tony... "I know you took that three and that six. Come on, really? You thought I wouldn't remember you taking a six?"

Tony would have gladly prided himself on being a cheap trick chock full of more, except the smirk was enough to undermine his very innocent widened eyes and clueless, "Hm? Of course I have a six, it's your turn, stop stalling." Just in case, he snatched up his pile of claimed cards, so Steve would have to fight him for them if he wanted to make his point.

Steve frowns. "No cheating, Tony, that's not fair." He's very serious but he also doesn't want to get into a physical altercation. Besides, it's just a game. And the cards are handmade. He wouldn't want to ruin them.

"Oh," Tony acknowledged, feigning surprise that looked about as convincing as his innocence. "We're playing fair? I was playing a very different game." If that wasn't clear enough, he boldly took a card straight out of Steve's pile to add to his own, and flashed his most charming smile.

At this, Steve does lean in and try to wrest his cards back from Tony. "Tony, come on." He frowns. "If you're not gonna play, we don't have to play, but just tell me you're done."

He was going to have to be faster than that, because Tony was already prepared for some retaliation and was quick to twist away, bringing the stack of ill-gotten gains with him as he dropped carelessly onto his back like he only meant to lounge on the beach the whole time. Of course, his smirk admitted that he knew exactly what he was doing, even as he protested, "I'm playing!," brandishing his other fan of cards over his head, see, he was still looking at them. "You're distracted. It's understandable. You're definitely much better at cards when everyone has their clothes on."

"That's just you projecting, Tony, I can see you looking at my chest." He didn't actually catch Tony staring, but if he's going to give out baseless accusations, then Steve's going to meet his bluff.

"You're not playing." He puts his cards down, and leans back.

One of them obviously wasn't playing, and when it became clear that Steve wasn't going to pursue the flagrant display if disrespect any further, Tony wrinkled his nose peevishly and let his hands fall listlessly to his chest. The light winking through the leaves above him was glittering flashes, enough to make him squint, but he kept his focus resolutely forward and not on anybody's chest. Since he was very respectfully not staring, he was free to comment, "Someone should be, terrible waste to leave it unappreciated. Like keeping a piece of cake for sentimental reasons."

"Cake gets stale," Steve answers, with a bit of amusement. He shifts a little, if only because Tony's blocking his light a bit, so when he looks up he doesn't have to squint. That's much nicer. It's still weird how his eyes are blue.

"Do you think I could freckle if I try to get enough sun here? I don't burn anymore."

There wasn't much of a chance of either burning or freckles, because that light was entirely synthetic and Tony was pretty sure the nearest star was 502 million miles away, give or take a few thousand. But he smiled at Steve with a breath of a laugh, and released the cards he held to his chest to send them sliding easily across the smooth gold and free his hand to brush along Steve's collar where he should have been freckled, knuckles pressing faintly to share the map of them that Tony knew for certain. "They're really not taking care of you on that backwards planet," he accused. "I'm sending you back with a note. You're supposed to have a regular dose of pool parties and basketball games, and the occasional mission to the Savage Land for a proper stranding, to keep the wheels greased. What, do they only let you out at night?"

"I'm on the run, Tony," he answers. "They passed a law, ratified by the UN. Unanimous vote - people with superhuman abilities and weapons such as the Iron Man armor have to be under a register. They have to vote everytime we wanna leave US soil to do a mission. I couldn't stand for that, so I left."

Well, he blew up a lot of stuff on his way out, like his friendship.

"Tony... he wanted to keep the team together." Not to mention, repair his relationship with Pepper. Steve had been supportive of that, he'd understood. But - he just couldn't do it, ultimately.

Tony should have better anticipated Steve's very serious answer, and started to roll his eyes at the increasingly familiar refrain, only this time it came with more context. The teasing was abruptly gone for Tony to look sharply at Steve, then push himself up on his elbows, letting the cards fall, forgotten. "A register," he echoed, and the humid heat of the greenhouse wasn't enough to keep the ice from spreading through his chest. "Because something happened." That was the first point of tension, the one he knew to anticipate but didn't know how to stop. The second had always been Steve. He must have been too late to stop that one, too.

"Yeah," he said. "Ultron happened." He looks away from Tony for a second because he doesn't want to assign any guilt where it doesn't belong. This Tony hadn't built Ultron, of course. Steve doesn't want him to think he blames him for what happened. Hell, he wouldn't want the other one to think that either. They all had a part in Ultron. They can all take responsibility together - just, not the way that Ross thinks would be best.

That wasn't right. It might not have happened to Tony yet, but he could see with enough clarity that it wasn't just Ultron or some other existential threat leaving people anxious about masked heroes; it was the overeager young vigilante who went nuclear and neglected to empty the shopping mall of hostages before he blew it up. Steve was looking away, though, so Tony couldn't search his face for what he meant, what the body count was that should have been avoided. Tony was sitting up then, drawing his knees closer and frowning. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe the catalyst was just that they lost. No wonder Steve didn't trust him. He started to neatly gather the cards so he could put something right, feeling foolish even as he did so.

He didn't intend to make Tony feel bad, but he sees that he does, so he reaches out for his wrist, to stay him. "Hey, I don't - I don't blame the other Tony for making Ultron. He thought he was doing what was best. But I guess, in the aftermath, we decided to check in more, talk about what was going on, inform the team, so we could make decisions together. And then... the Accords kinda came out of nowhere. And then..." The whole mess with Bucky.

Jesus, how could he forget, Tommy had rambled something about Tony being his grandfather and the reminder had Tony rubbing at his brow irritably with his free hand, forced to contend with the idea that he was the overeager kid going nuclear. Doing what was best. 'Make decisions together' then sounded like 'make sure Tony didn't go rogue again', and of course no one would listen to him when he tried to tell them what he knew was coming. The Accords didn't come out of nowhere, if he knew then that Tony knew, and it was only Steve's hold on his wrist that stopped Tony from snarling at him to back off. The contact had him counting short, aborted breaths instead in an effort to manage the instinct. "And then they all looked to you, because you wouldn't lead them wrong," he also knew.

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