Inktober #1 Fave Pen
Fandom: MCU
Extra scene from CA:CW
.
How had things gone so horribly wrong?
His left arm tingled like mad, the nerves firing in sporadic bursts of needle-sharp pain that technically could be interpreted as a good sign given he'd felt nothing in the arm for long unnerving minutes after he'd taken the hit.
He winced as he shifted the arm, wondering if he had really gotten hurt this time. He'd thought nothing could top the constant ache of an arc reactor in the chest. This, even if only short term, might just stick in his memory longer than he'd prefer.
He'd had things under control. Barnes on lockdown. Rogers and Wilson brought to heel. He'd known exactly what to say, how to make it work and convince Rogers that signing the Accords would solve all manner of problems, including that of his long thought dead friend resurfacing with a bang.
Rhodey had brought them in after they'd torn through parts of Bucharest. The newly made King of Wakanda doing his share of damage, but not succeeding in his, according to Nat, preference in bringing him in dead rather than alive, but had more than enough pull, plus the sympathy of the world after his loss, to wiggle out of any charges.
The King is dead. Long live the King.
Everything had been going according to plan.
And then it had all gone to fucking hell.
The pens had been the key.
Or so he'd thought.
In the end, with Rogers wavering, truly considering signing in order to save Barnes from the fate that awaited him in Wakanda, it had been the little witch who caused everything to go south. Though he wondered if Rogers might have taken any excuse offered him, no matter how thin.
Rogers didn't want any part of the Accords. Accepting that wouldn't be easy, they'd been a team since New York. They'd been friends for nearly that long. He'd gotten used to the steady, unwavering presence of Steve Rogers and hated the hole that had been created in the man's absence.
It had only been two fucking days.
And now, now his entire world had been tipped on its side and strewn about like so much rubble.
They'd escaped.
Okay, maybe not escaped, precisely. Barnes had broken free of the cell he'd been held in. Which, in hindsight, probably meant he'd been a willing captive to a degree. Made him wonder how things would have gone if the man had actually resisted. It probably would not have ended well for anyone except the former Winter Soldier.
Rogers had gone after him, of course. Why permit those in charge to do their jobs and take care of the situation when Captain mother-fucking America could save the day.
He sucked in a breath, ignoring the sharp pain in his chest and the excruciating painful firing of nerves as he unintentionally shifted his arm.
Perhaps... perhaps he felt more than a touch irritated in that particular turn of events.
He waited until the discomfort had receded to a manageable level then stood slowly, not wanting to risk another flare of pain.
He'd left the pen where it had landed when Rogers had given it back, rejecting the attempt to put the team back together.
Reaching out gingerly he picked it up, wondering just where it had all gone wrong.
With a heavy sigh, he returned the pen to the case and its mate. Rogers had gotten one thing right, the pair shouldn't be broken up.
Neither should the Avengers.
He tapped the case idly in the palm of his hand. His father's favorite pens and a reasonable argument hadn't been enough to convince Rogers, what the hell would?