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

"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."

"I feel like I should make a titanic reference here but that'd involve a chaise lounge and an obscenely large diamond." He huffs a soft laugh and hands the pad back. "All that's from memory? Color me impressed."

"Well I've never drawn any French girls but I could give it a try if you want." Yeah. He's seen the movie thanks to Clint and Natasha. "Yeah. All from memory. All of them actually. That was you right after the battle in New York. Before I left for D.C."

He gives the details a closer look, unfinished as it is- the cut of his hair and rough patches on his face from bruising or scrapes (he did go through a giant ass hell turbine at one point, that'd been a thing) all pretty well accurate. "Huh. I don't...look as tired."

At the time he'd been worried but invigorated. A larger universe and they could, had, would, protect it. Nothing seemed quite so hopeless.

"Yeah. A lot has happened since then." Steve says gently and yawns. He's exhausted but he knows it's going to be a bad night. Usually he can feel the tension that leads to nightmares. He just wonders what it will be tonight. The past? The present? Some twisted combination of the two? "You can have it when I'm down. If you want it."

"I'll pin it to the fridge with a magnet." He hooks his smile into something less flashy and sharp, a little of his first mask and armor peeling away. "Want me to head out? You look like you could use the sleep."

Steve lets out another little laugh at the thought of To y hanging his artwork up like he was a proud parent. He covets the smile he gets too. It's closer to the 'real' Tony than he's been in ages. He shakes his head at his offer to leave though. "It's gonna be a bad night. I'm not in a hurry to get to it."

"Need a spotter?" He can work on his tablet in here just as well as his own room and shouting Steve awake before shit gets bad is totally doable. Mostly doable.

Steve hesitates for a moment thinking about the offer. It wasn't like Tony o do something like that but if he was willing... "If you're sure....I don't want to bother you." He says giving him an out. He really is tired and maybe knowing someone is close will help him sleep better. Having Bucky around during the war certainly helped.

"I can work just as well here and if we're going for another round of facing the kids in the morning and all their sad, sad eyes- you need actual sleep." Which means getting shaken awake when nightmares come to call. Or. Shouted. Lashing out in a panic is a thing and Tony likes his nose unbroken.

Steve nods at Tony. Unlike him Steve can't take sedatives as they wear off too fast for him. "Thanks. Uh...good night then. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen if you want it. ". He stands and moves to the bedroom shutting the door behind him. He brushes his teeth and gets ready for bed. It's a good 45 minutes though before he actually falls asleep as his mind is focused on the man currently in the living room. He's still not sure where they stand but he thinks it's better than where they were.

Sleep is thankfully dreamless at first. It's not until after 2am they begin to turn dark. First he starts jerking slightly. Visions of Bucky falling from the train filling his mind. Then it's Tony and Bucky both fighting in Siberia because he's been unable to stop them. He's crying now. Tears on the pillow as he cries out for both men to stop. The listen. Then they are dead lying there looking up at him with lifeless eyes. Then he's rocking on the ground holding Bucky while dead Tony yells at him for letting them both die. He tells him he's useless. Unnecessary. Worthless. Everything special about him came out of a bottle. That it would be better if he stayed buried in the ice. They'd all still be alive if he wasn't there.

Edited 2017-10-13 17:12 (UTC)

"Boss." FRIDAY's voice jolts him out of a several hour long legal fugue, emails between him and Pepper trying to wrangle the board and lawyers to do more than exonerate Tony and Tony alone- it's dense reading that has him more than a little out of it by the time she calls for him.

"Those decryptions finished, Fry?" She'd have told him if that's what it is, but sometimes she nudges him to make sure he's paying attention. She's learning. Part of him is proud. The rest aches.

"Captain Rogers is showing signs of distress." And, well, he squints at the clock before levering himself off of the sofa to open Steve's door, peering at him. He could shake the supersoldier awake but again, he likes his nose unbroken. "Rogers. Up and at 'em, soldier."

Tony is smart not to touch him. Waking a soldier with PTSD having a nightmare and happens to be a super soldier is most assuredly not wise. Steve doesn't hear Tony though. He's apologizing, voice muffled by sleep and his pillow. The second time Tony says his name though he bolts awake. He's sitting upright not seeing anything at first. His eyes are damp and red rimmed and it takes him a moment to come back to himself enough to wipe his face with his arm. He sniffles slightly and looks up at Tony. "Sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you. Thanks for waking me up." He says kindly as he moves to get up so he can wash his face off and blow his nose.