bakerstreet | (no subject)

(no subject)

[ WOKE UP IN JAIL ]

Where are you? Why is your bed so hard? Why is someone peeing right by your head?
Oh right. Because you got pinched last night. Welcome to the slammer, baby.

• Post with your character name/fandom/options preferences.
• Use RNG to pick your possible scenario - or just go with what you'd like most.
• Reply to other people's tags. Use RNG or decide what your part in the whole kerfuffle is.
• Enjoy the confusion.

Reason(s) you're in jail:

1. Indecent Exposure
Nobody wanted to watch you strut around with everything hanging out, and someone called you on it. Hope they gave you a jumpsuit or you're going to be prison eye candy.

2. Drunk and disorderly conduct
"Wassat, occifer? No... I'm not dru-*hic* drunk. I'm unner the legal limit. Wooo!" No, no you're not. You're way over. Sleep it off, buddy.

3. Vandalism
Oh, you naughty thing. You got busted stealing that 'Chickens X-ing' sign. Or was it drawing boobs on the drive-thru clown? Either way, tsk tsk.

4. B&E
Apparently your friend didn't think you kicking in his window to sneak in and leave him a 'present' was as good of an idea as you thought it was. Well, no love for HIM. *hmph*

5. Grand Theft Auto
The car was BEGGING to go for a ride. It called to you with its sireny car-call. And you just had to answer. If it hadn't been for the damn spike belt...

6. Kidnapping
Trust me, there are better ways to get money to pay for your Bieber concert tickets.

7. Murder
Talk about being caught red handed. You got caught red armed. And faced. And front. You're messy.

8. Any/all of the above
Ooooh... You've been REALLY naughty, haven't you? Actually, you kind of scare me.

Relationship of the person tagging:

1. Cohort in Crime.

2. Person coming to bail you out. (or not)

3. Jailer/Warden.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

"Bucky said to wake him up if we figure out how to do it. So we work on it and then we wake him up and explain it and let him choose. That's the plan." Steve says to him, tone neutral and soft.

"What's sleep?" Steve asks with a chuckle. "I haven't slept a full night since Peggy died."

He'd sent flowers- he thinks. Or a letter or something, it'd been expected due to his father's connection with Carter through all the years of working in SHIELD and probably more besides that he hadn't been told about, hadn't learned. To him it was a blip on the radar.

For Steve it'd been one of the last threads to before.

"My dad talked about her sometimes. Not often, anything too tied up in you was- well. Tied up in you or highly classified." A beat. Gently, in that he can in fact be gentle on occasion. "...What was she like, when you knew her?"

"Peggy was the best woman I've ever known aside from my Ma. She didn't take crap from anyone but always managed to stay classy while she did it. She shot at me once. Did you know that? When I was trying to figure out what weapon to use. I was actually holding the shield at the time talking to your father. I was asking him about it. It was in a scrap pile. He was going on and on about guns and all I could think was this looks like the best tool here.

Anyway, see she was mad at me because some other lady had cornered me and kissed me before I could stop her. She walked in on it. So she shot at me. I think she might have felt bad about it afterwards. We had something special. She believed in me from the beginning. When I was little 90lbs Steve to after. She helped me keep my head when Bucky 'died'. She was with me through the radio when I crashed the plane. I think...I think if I had lived I could have married her. I think I could have loved her right." Steve says sadly. "She had a good life though. A good husband, loving family. She did alright in the end. I doubt I'll ever find a woman I'd love as much as I loved her."

"Grace, poise, and a mean left hook- that's what Jarvis would say if I asked." Apparently? Not entirely inaccurate. Tony sips his coffee and listens, tucking this away with everything else he's learned about Steve's life and the people nearest him. It wasn't that he hadn't been interested in the past but-

His days were too short already and keeping up with the Avengers socially, while awesome? Exhausting and difficult to navigate. "Don't count yourself out yet, Rogers. There are plenty of people that could probably squint pass your doritoesque physique and see the awkward artist lurking within."

"Most people now a days read about me in a history book or have seen me on TV. They don't want Steve Rogers, they want Captain America." He says. The two dates he'd been on had shown him that much. How funny is it that he's still practically a virgin. He's a 100 year old virgin. That has to be a record of some kind, has to be.

"Did you just compare me to a dorito chip?"

"Learn to live with the celebrity and find someone that isn't dazzled by that. It's possible, usually it takes knowing you for awhile- that's how Pepper and I ended up together. Also how we fell apart but, details." He waves a had vaguely, glad for the change in subject.

"I have photographic evidence and taken measurements to confirm the ratio, I am not even kidding-" He palms his phone and flips through the gallery, pulling up the photo in question. "I've done the math. You've got the shoulder to waist ratio of a dorito, Rogers, live with it. You're a corn chip."

Steve laughs. Actually has a full on belly laughing fit so much so he has to put his cup down as his left hand comes up to his chest atop his heart. He's laughing so hard tears leak from his eyes and it takes him a few moments to calm down. He wipes his eyes and sniffles before shaking his head. "Perfect specimen of manhood to a freaking corn chip. That was unexpected. Guess I'm gonna have to hope I find someone who likes doritos. That should help in the search." He says.

"Also kind of hard to meet people when you're a fugitive. Anyway, what about you? Are you and Pepper trying to work things out?"

"That'll pass. Pep's already on the PR machine, whipping the lawyers into a frenzy, rattling marketing's cages. Our stock took a hit but it always dips when shit like this happens. The board's not worried." Well, they are, but no more than usual. "We're- It's stressful. What I do, who I am, I'm stressful enough as a boss or a friend, double down with my intimacy issues and neuroses and the fact I nearly got her killed because of Killian-"

He scrubs a hand across the back of his neck, shrugging. "We make better friends. She's too good for me and we both know it. I keep secretly hoping Rhodey will get off his ass and ask her out to dinner but the odds of that are slim to none for awhile."

Steve gives his friend, yes he has decided for his part that Tony is still his friend, an appraising look. "You're a handful but you deserve someone to come home to that's a person Tony. Someone to remind you to eat and sleep and physically drag you to bed or hand you a sandwich if need be. Someone who cares about you." Steve just wants Tony to be happy. He wants SOMEONE in his life to be happy.

"Relationships are overrated. I have Friday, I've got Dum-E and U, I've got Rhodey and Pep. I'm good." Those are the constants in his life, even if how much or little he has them swings more one way than the other- they're the linchpins of his universe. The Avengers had, temporarily, become a secondary strut. One he'd been wary of putting too much weight on out of self preservation and this whole shitshow was a solid reminder of why he'd been careful about it. "I'm fine, Steve."

"Well I suppose you would know. I've never actually had one." He admits as they sit there in the dwindling light. The sun is going down and Steve hasn't turned on the lights in the room yet. If he waits long enough they will cut on automatically. At least he's pretty sure he pressed the button earlier. "No one wanted me when I was small. I wasn't big long enough to get involved and since I woke up it's been one fight after another."

"Wasn't Natasha trying to set you up with people? I distinctly remember hearing that bit of gossip awhile back." Mostly the trial and error nature of it, how hard she seemed to be trying, how every swing seemed to be a miss. "Pretty sure you've got downtime now."

"She kept trying to set me up with women." Steve says. "My heart wasn't ready for that. There were a few guys I had beers with but they were only interested in Captain America. Not Steve Rogers."

"You do have the Tom of Finland thing going for you- but that's less 'Steve' and more 'serum'." Tony shrugs, waggling a hand side to side. "I haven't been in the scene for awhile so I've got no advice for you there, buddy. Wait- what about Sam? Is that not a thing? It seemed like it could be a thing."

Steve gives another soft laugh. "No, Sam is 100% straight and totally in not so secret infatuation with Natasha. Who is Tom of Finland?"

"Artist that specialized in a particular genre of erotica. Worth a google when you're alone later. I think I owned a few books of his when I was young and coming to terms with liking men-" So when he was roughly sixteen "They got donated to a collection somewhere. Pretty sure."

"Are you suggesting porn to me now?" Steve asks with a teasing smile. "Is that a thing? Do people talk about that in polite conversation now?" Sometimes he's absolutely floored how different things are now vs back in the 40's. Back then running with a fella could get you locked up or killed. Now it's considered natural and accepted, even if not everyone accepted it.

"It's art." Ish? Mostly. Depends on your point of view. "It was relevant to the conversation, the figures are hyperstylized and dorito-esque like you and look I'm too old to be giving you dating advice, ask Sam, Sam's probably got game."

Somewhere deep, deep under the not quite condescending conviction in personal growth past personal tragedy. It's baffling.

"I'm older than you." Steve pipes up even if physically he really isn't. Numerically he's pushing 100, physically and mentally he's about 27. That's another thing people forget when they deal with him. "I do like art." He says almost abstractly his eyes moving to the open sketch pad on the table. "It's relaxing."

"I thought we agreed time spent in the ice didn't count, lucid moments or no." The argument hadn't been revisited since that little revelation, but still. It's worth keeping track of what agreements they're keeping and what arguments they need to have again.

"Anything interesting in the sketchbook, or is it still lifes and landscapes?"

"It doesn't, a lot of people thinks it does though. I'm glad you don't." He says. He reaches over and picks up the sketch pad and flips through the pages till it comes up on a beautiful woman. It's a facial portrait, she's smiling her hair in pin curls. "That's my Ma, Sarah Rogers." He moves on the couch so he's sitting closer to Tony and tips the pad so he can see it clearly. There's all kinds of pictures in the pad. Pictures of the team, pictures of Bucky in his uniform, in his tube. Pictures of Coney Island, of things he remembered in Brooklyn. Pictures of Wakandan landscapes and of course the unfinished picture of Tony he'd been working on.

"You make this face when you're upset and trying to hide it that reminds me how young you were and are. It's like a sad puppy trying to be angry." It's fucking adorable, to quote Barton, but that's not the point. The odd reminders of loss and grief are things they're trying to avoid, that's the point, so. Levity.

And curiosity, He peers down at the sketchbook, taking it in. He's seen Steve draw before, knew he was an artist, but never took the time to look at what he was working on. "You're not one to flip to random pages and sketch out of order, are you?"

"I usually just flip to the next page. That way I know where things are, don't have to search for them. Feel free to look at them if you want. There's nothing there that's bad." Steve says as he hands off the sketch pad to Tony. If the man was interested he was willing to share.

So the drawing of him- after the Wakanda landscapes. It's recent.

With careful hands he takes the pad and flips back and forth for a moment, coming back to the drawing of him. He'll play it off as narcissism if asked but- the timing of it doesn't fit. Or does it? "When did you start this one?"

"After we met in the hallway this afternoon. Before dinner." Steve says. There's no reason to lie. He draws what he feels. What he's thinking about. And naturally he's been thinking about Tony the past few days. He doesn't ask if Tony likes it. He's not finished with it yet. He's drawn it purely from memory. "I was working on it when you knocked."