"12th of December"
"Sorry I forgot about them," Steve said as they walked down the supermarket aisle.
"It's no problem," Phil said, and he plucked a box of corn flour off the shelf. "I always get confused between corn flour and rice flour, to be honest. That's why I tend to stick to recipes which only involve all-purpose or self-raising flour."
"Still, we forgot two things – only two – and we've had to make an extra trip."
Phil shrugged, and reached across Steve to grab a packet of glace cherries. He dropped them into the basket, and looked up at Steve.
"It means I get to spend more time with you," he said. Then, embarrassed by his words, he ducked his head. "Is there anything… I don't know, random that you want to get?"
"No," Steve said. "But maybe we could get a coffee after this? And I wouldn't mind running some ideas by you at the art store down the street."
"I trust your artistic judgement," Phil said. "And no coffee."
"Oh."
"It reminds me too much of work."
"Okay. That's fine."
Phil wondered about Steve's tone, and noticed that he seemed a bit down. "But I could go a hot chocolate."
Steve visibly brightened, and nodded. "Let me get this."
"No, I will."
"Then I'll shout us the hot chocolate."
Phil smiled as he looked at his feet, and tried not to trip over them as Steve's arm brushed against his. They were both rugged up for the cold weather; but somehow, it felt like there was barely anything between them.
This has been building during their time together. Moments stolen here and there, phone conversations, emails, text messages. Shopping expeditions like this. They were going to start on the candy tomorrow, which meant up to several hours, depending on how successful they were. Phil secretly hoped that it took a number of attempts to get it right, so they could spend more time together. Maybe that was why he suggested chocolate-filled caramels? Subconsciously, he wanted to get to know Steve better, and the project had provided the perfect excuse.
They left the store, Steve carrying the shopping bag. Phil was on his other side, which meant that their hands were close, occasionally bumping. This was ridiculous. Phil knew that Steve was generally a kind man; but he never would have suspected him to be touchy-feely. He rubbed his gloved hands together and moved half a step further away, to stop his heart from thumping so loudly. Other shoppers jostled him back towards Steve, however, and he accepted that it was best to stick together.
As they neared a coffee shop, Steve wrapped his large hand around Phil's elbow and pulled him close.
"Is that okay?" he asked, tilting his head towards the café. Phil tried not to concentrate too much on the fact that Steve's face was only inches away from his.
"P-perfect," he said. If asked, he would blame the icy New York air. Steve cocked his head, but didn't reply as he steered Phil into the café.
"What do you want?" he asked. "Just the hot chocolate?"
"Probably best," Phil said. "Considering how much junk food we're going to be eating in the next couple of weeks, I think I should give my teeth – and the rest of my body – a break before it starts."
"Something savoury, then?"
"Order what you like. I'll get us a table over there."
Steve smiled, and headed for the counter. Phil steadfastly kept his gaze above waist level, and then hurried over to the only available two-seater table. It was in the corner, but in clear view of the counter. Steve would have been able to find him regardless, but Phil wanted to see him.
Great. Now he was starting to sound like a stalker. At the very least a pervert. Steve deserved better than that. Phil sighed mentally, and restricted his viewing to the tabletop. He did allow himself to play with the packets of sugar, and wondered over Natasha's phone call that morning. She'd wanted to know how long it would take Thor to get to Asgard and then back, and she didn't have Jane's phone number. It was possible that Thor was still upset over what had happened, and was spending extra time with his father. But Thor would never abandon them. Phil was sure he would be back today.
"Don't be mad," Steve said, and Phil nearly jumped. "Oh. Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."
"No, you didn't. I mean it's my fault for not paying attention." Phil cleared his throat. "Why would I be mad at you?"
"I ordered a croissant," Steve said. "They'll heat it up. I figured we could share it. They asked if we wanted chocolate spread with it, but I said no."
"Okay," Phil said, nodding. "That actually sounds pretty great. Thank you. You don't mind sharing?"
"It'll be fun," Steve said, and he settled into his seat. "What were you thinking about?"
"Just something Natasha asked me about Thor. I'm sure it will all be fine. So." He crossed his arms on the table, and composed his face. "How's it been going?"
"…What do you mean? We've been keeping each other up to date with the project. I've been spending my time working on the cut-outs for the cards—"
"I meant in real life. Have you explored all of New York yet?"
"Yes. So much has changed, and not all of it for the better. I mean, the Depression is long over, and that's great. But then this financial crisis hit, and people are still getting over that. If it wasn't for all the fancy gadgetry and better health facilities, I'd swear that this was just another Depression, only a twenty-first century version." He snorted. "A lot of people can't access the right health care, which is unbelievable. I really thought the world would've advanced more by now. And it seems that as more medical advancements are made, the more diseases and conditions are found."
"Or the technology has become good enough that today's doctors can detect what yesterday's couldn't," Phil said gently. But Steve was still worked up.
"And the bigotry," he said. "In my day, a lot more things were frowned upon. Something things have changed; there's integration, inter-racial and same-sex marriage, women's rights. But some people still never learn. There's more violence – and this is coming from a guy who was brought up in World War Two – and no control over it. There are so many people out there who have guns, who just… shouldn't. Children are learning to shoot, and they're killing each other. They don't seem to know any better, and that scares me. What if, to save a hundred people, I had to make a choice between letting them die, or having to… to kill the child threatening them?"
"Steve, calm down," Phil said, and he clasped the hand resting on the table. Steve looked down at it, and his shoulders slumped.
"Why can't we all just get along?" he whispered. "I fought against bullies, and now the bullies are getting younger and younger, and there are more powerful weapons out there." He shook his head. "And Fury wonders why I was so angry about him wanting to use the Tesseract to make what would amount to a nuclear bomb."
Phil squeezed Steve's hand, and rubbed his thumb along the side. "It's great that you care so much, but what I'm hearing really worries me. I know what you fought for, and you've woken seven decades into the future to find that things have changed, and not all for the best. Most of it for the worst. I wish I could've seen the world you once knew. I'm sorry humankind has screwed up so much, and proved such a disappointment. I really am, Steve."
"It's not your fault, Phil."
"But I'm still a human, and I carry a gun and a license to kill. But I swear, if ever you had to face the decision between a child and a hundred other people, I know you'd find a third option, because that's the kind of man you are."
"A strategist?"
"Someone who cares," Phil said. His body leaned forward against the table, but he didn't notice. "And… any time you find yourself hating what the world's become, just call me, and I'll do everything in my power to make you happy again. Even if it's just bombarding you with videos of cats doing crazy things." He smiled sadly. "I'd love to hear you laugh."
Someone cleared their throat, and Phil glanced up. Then he quickly pulled his hand away and sat back, no doubt flushed to the roots of his hair.
"Your order," the young lady said, and she placed their drinks and an enormous croissant on the table. "Sorry to break a moment between such a cute couple." She smiled. Between the dimples and the curly hair, she looked like a teenaged Shirley Temple. Steve must have thought the same thing, judging by the fond look on his face. Either that, or he already knew her. "Anything else?"
Phil shook his head, and Steve said, "No, that's fine. Thank you."
The waitress bounced off. She must have been inhaling chocolate or coffee fumes. No one should be this cheerful while Phil was squirming in his seat.
"Sorry about that," he said.
"About what?"
"Just…" Phil couldn't even say it, and gestured between them, particularly their hands. Steve raised his eyebrows, and then smiled softly.
"It's fine," he said. "You knew just the right thing to say."
Rhodey and Pepper were having a stand-off.
"It's tacky to use too many different transitions," she insisted.
"It's not supposed to be a work of art," Rhodey said. "We're not aiming for an Oscar here."
"But this looks like it's trying to compensate for lack of content, and we have plenty of content." She gestured at the video compilation in the background. "That's nearly two hours of film, and we had to cut it down substantially."
"There's nothing wrong with a few different transitions—"
"You want to use six!"
"Yeah, but evenly spread." Pepper turned aside, arms crossed and lips pursed. "Pep, c'mon. It's a fun present for Christmas, and it's about how the Avengers came to be friends, and a cohesive family unit, as well as a kick-ass superhero team. There's no linear storytelling."
"I just…" She exhaled loudly in frustration. "I want it to look right! I don't want them to be distracted by special effects. That's why we had JARVIS arrange instrumental music for the background, and make sure that it doesn't drown out what's going on in each scene. And it's kind of linear." She watched another ten seconds of film. "It shows their progression from team-mates to family. It's important, and I don't want it to be trivialised."
Rhodey stepped up behind her. "Then we won't trivialise it. We'll skip having transitions during the quiet scenes, and when it goes on to the crazy stuff, we'll use fun transitions. Subtle ones. I know how you want this. But I also know that I don't want it to be a documentary. This is about family. Sure, most home movies don't use this high level of tech, and not everyone has a JARVIS to do pretty much all the hard stuff."
"I only assisted when asked, Colonel Rhodes," JARVIS said.
"And you've done a great job."
"Thank you. You and Miss Potts have both made valid points. I am certain that, between us, we can organise a happy medium."
Pepper tilted her head and smiled. "You're the best, JARVIS."
"Mr. Stark did create me."
No one could argue with that.
Gah! I forgot that I was supposed to write this chapter today, or at least that the next chapter was for today. So this is very last-minute, and very late at night for me.
Please review!
