The flight back to France didn't exactly start the best way. First, he got stuck in an endless phone call with the director of the FBI. It lasted nearly two hours, his phone was overheated and so was his ear, and he was getting more and more annoyed with the questions, to the point he had to actually cut the man short because he had to go through the TSA.
"Sir, I've already answered all your questions, multiple times. I've given you even more details than what I've said at the committee. Now, if you excuse me, you've kept me on the phone for two hours, my phone's battery is about to die, my ear so hot you can fry an egg on it and I have a plane to catch so I can see my girlfriend and go back to my job. Excuse me but I have to say goodbye."
He didn't wait for a reply and simply hung up. Before the man could call him back, he texted Diana what had happened and turned it off.
Free at last. He thought as he stood in line for the TSA controls. He passed them and looked for the gate, then again waited patiently until they started boarding people. He followed the procedure, found his seat and set his backpack beneath the chair in front of his own. With a sigh, he finally sat down. I'm going home… he thought. I'm going home and everything will be fine. I'm going home to Diana and everything will be alright. He texted her that the plane was almost ready for take off and that there were no delays in sight, before he turned the phone in flight mode for the duration of the flight.
He had no idea why, but he was nervous. It was his third flight on a modern plane, he was used to less than stable ramshackled single seater planes made of canvas, plywood and little else, and yet he was nervous. He could feel it beneath his skin, something was going to happen. Maybe not to him, but he felt like a strange kind of energy buzzing beneath his skin. His hands were shaking as he buckled the seatbelt.
The man beside him, a sixty-something gentleman in dark jeans and a navy shirt smiled. "Issues with flying?"
The deep, almost guttural voice shook Steve out of his daze. He had an accent he couldn't really recognize, but it sounded familiar in a certain way. "Uh? Oh no, no issues with flying. Just… other stuff. I've had a busy couple of days, just that."
"Oh I know, I saw your intervention the other day. I bet your phone hasn't stopped ringing ever since."
Steve smiled, briefly. He was famous enough to get recognized now. "I just hung up the phone after a two hours long call with the director of the FBI. I only managed to close it because I had to go through TSA. Damn, that man is insistent."
"Some men are just like woodpeckers. They don't know how when to stop, they keep going on and on until they get what they want or you punch them in the face, literally, or not. In my line of work I have to deal with many people like that, it never gets easier."
"And what's your line of work?"
The man smiled and scratched his bearded cheek. "Energy. You know, once it was oil and coal, now it's solar power, wind turbines, hydroelectric energy… that kind of stuff. I'm on my way to Kazakhstan to see if I can strike a deal with the local government for a couple of solar and wind farms here and there."
"Must be interesting, going up and down the world selling this kind of product. I mean, it's better than buying and selling contracts for oil ducts going through warzones."
Again, he smiled for a brief time. "Oh, I've done that too, but I never liked it. Oil ducts destroy the environment, they pollute… it's not for me anymore. I've managed to steer the company away from oil and coal, now we work only with renewable energies. Not bad uh, for an old man like me?"
Steve laughed. "Impressive, to be sincere. You're staying in Paris long?"
He shook his head. "No, just the time of the layover. Unfortunately, I don't have much time to be a tourist in general, but I managed to squeeze a couple of days in the city between engagements in early December. It's not I never been there, anyway. You?"
"Uh? Oh well, I live there, moved there in November. Got a job there so I could be close to my…" Steve took a deep breath. "...Close to my fianceè. She works at the Louvre, one of the curators."
"Wow, nice catch! Louvre uh? My wife's into art, mostly the Renaissance and the neoclassical era, we've been to the museum a bunch of times and each time she just gets lost in front of the Monna Lisa. Can't say I blame her, it's hypnotic, even though my concept of art doesn't go beyond saying eh, looks good. Oh, by the way, I'm Alistair." And he offered him his hand, which Steve grabbed and shook.
"Steve. Nice to meet you. You seem like a veteran of flying around the world!"
Alistair sighed. "What can I say? When you own a business, a successful one to boot, you need to be ready to go here and there, when you're requested," he explained. "Sometimes it's better to do the negotiations in person, most of all when you deal with governments. Speaking of which I'm kind of surprised the League didn't appear in person at the hearing, the other day."
"It wouldn't have done them any good. Remember what happened with Superman, two years ago? Not good, they have too much to lose. Their lives is worth more than what some people in Washington think. Me? I'm nothing more than an office worker that was lucky… or unlucky, from certain points of view, to know them. That's it."
"Just out of curiosity, how are superheroes in real life?"
Steve chuckled. "Believe it or not, super boring. They all have a fulltime day job that takes them most of their time, not to mention their families… believe me, superpowers or not, they're just normal people. They wake up, go to work… and sometimes they save the world. End of the story."
"I think it's better this way. I mean, as long as they don't turn into tyrants I'm fine with that, but knowing that they're so integrated in our society to the point of living boring lives, I feel like I can trust them a little more."
"Oh trust me on that, they're as normal as they can be. If you met them you'd never guess they're super. I truly had no idea, most of all when I met Superman."
"Uh," the businessman looked genuinely surprised. "And here I thought he would be the easiest one to spot."
"Oh no, he's the less suspicious of all of them."
The hostesses and stewards caught their attention and signalled the plane was about to take off. They spent a long while in complete silence, waiting for the plane to reach the cruise height, until Steve yawned and shook his head. He was getting strangely sleepy.
"Tired?" asked Alistair.
"It's the central heating, it's too warm and it gets me sleepy. On the way here it wasn't so warm, I didn't get so sleepy," he explained. "Or maybe it was because I was nervous, too wired to sleep."
"Had it been me, I wouldn't have slept the night before the hearing. Did you? I mean, did you manage to sleep, that night?"
"It was a miracle but yes, I did. I hadn't been in Washington for a while so I roamed around with a couple of friends, I think I walked for miles to the point I was exhausted when I got to my hotel room."
"Yes, that's a good technique. It works even to counter the effects of jet lag. That and reading bookkeeping reports. You have no idea how boring that can be, gets you to sleep faster than any sleeping pill I've tried. And believe me, I've tried them all, even not so legal stuff, and nothing go me to sleep faster than all those numbers in line."
Steve laughed softly, so he wouldn't disturb the people around them. "I can only try to imagine, I never had to deal with bookkeeping, but I read my share of less than interesting reports from war zones, when I was in the Air Force. Problem was, if I fell asleep reading them, my superiors would have flayed me!"
"Ah, the good ol' discipline of the military. Speaking of merrier matters though, how did you meet your girlfriend? I'm curious, you said you met her through The Flash, how did that happen?"
"Well…" Technically, it was through. He had met Diana, again, through Flash and his power, he hadn't lied. "Well, it was some time after what had happened with Doomsday. At the time I had just been discharged from the Air Force, I still didn't have a full diagnosis of PTSD and I was insomniac and I could barely sleep at night so I had started walking around town just to try to get tired enough to sleep. I wasn't so close to the battle, but after it ended I felt compelled to go there and help them."
"And that's how you met Wonder Woman?"
Steve nodded. "Yes, exactly. And Batman. He took care of Superman's body while I helped her with the rubble and stuff. Later I met The Flash and the others and through Flash, I met Diana. They met in college, and remained friends after that. One thing led to another and in November I moved in with her in Paris, after I got a job there."
"Wow!" commented Alistair. "And she works at the Louvre. Must be nice, if you like art."
"I won't say it isn't great to have access to the museum afterhour, but I can't really say I'm one of those that fall in love with a painting or anything like that. I can appreciate it, but art it's not really my thing. I'm more of a compulsive reader, you know… when the Kindle came out years ago I was the happiest dogfighter you could have seen."
"Ah yes, that's one of the greatest inventions of the last twenty years, I agree. Uhm, you basically did the exact contrary of what I did. It was my wife that moved in with me, she kind of renounced to her dreams to follow me. She never tried to make me feel bad about it, except when he argue of course, but sometimes I feel like I wasn't a good husband to her, always travelling here and there, I was never home with her and the children... I mean, I love her very much but… yes, sometimes I think Juno deserved more."
"How long have you two been married?" asked Steve.
"Nearly forty years."
"I think you're not so bad in the end," he replied. "She would have gone her own way, if she thought you weren't enough. Don't underestimate your wife, if she stuck with you, it's because she thought you were good enough."
"Come on, you're saying only because you don't want to hurt my feelings!"
"Maybe, but like my old man used to say, if you're worried about being a good husband, then there's a big chance you already are," Steve explained. "And I always saw my father as a good husband, despite the little hours she spent with my mom, being a farmer and all. He didn't have much time to spend with her, but when they were together, she was always happier. Just try to make the time you have together count, it should be more than enough."
"Wise words…" mumbled Alistair. "You seem like a nice fellow, Steve. One day you'll be a good husband."
"You think? I mean, I hope you're right, because turns out we're getting married sooner than I thought, I just proposed the other day!"
"Well, congratulations, Steve." The man smiled as he patted his shoulder. "And yes, I'm absolutely you're going to be a great husband, way better than what I could have ever hoped to be. Now, tell me, favorite book?"
In the end, the flight was way better than what Steve had thought. Alistair was a nice man, a good listener and once they started talking about books, they stopped only when they had to say goodbye. All nervousness quickly melt away and when he finally set foot on the ground, Steve felt slightly better. Alistair disappeared soon after they had got their baggages to the terminal for his second flight to Kazakhstan, while Steve headed to the exit so he could take the cab.
The driver was waiting for him with a small sign with his name printed on it. On the way there, the man turned out to be quite talkative and Steve found himself stuck with an endless rant with immigrants stealing jobs for the French people, as it seemed he had no idea he was talking to one of those immigrants, and suddenly wished he had let Diana come and take him with the car, despite the fact it was the middle of the night and she had been to the office that day. Sure, she never slept much and it was saturday, she didn't have to go to work that morning, but he didn't want to depend on her so much. He was an adult and he could take a cab, also living in the 21th century was getting easier every day, as he got used to all the changes.
With a huff, when they reached their destination Steve paid the guy and as quickly as he could he got his stuff and let him go. Gods, that guy should really shut up, he thought as he opened the front door and walked up the stairs. As he turned the key in the padlock, he sighed in relief. "Home sweet home!" he whispered, pushing the heavy door on its hinges and trying not to make too much noise, as he thought Diana was already fast asleep, comfortably wrapped around the duvet in their bedroom.
Oh yes, asleep she was, but not in their bed, let alone in their bedroom!
He hadn't even taken off his coat when he noticed her shield resting beside couch and one of her grieves laying on the floor beside it.
"What the…" He threw the keys in the small bowl on the table beside the door and shook off his coat without even caring where it would land then rushed to the couch.
And there she was, fast asleep still in her armor, the sword placed haphazardly on the coffee table in front of her. She looked positively battered, as if she had gone through hell, came back and crashed there without even taking her clothes off, shoes excluded. Yes, like death warmed over.
"God Diana, what happened?" he mumbled kneeling beside the couch. She didn't even stir. She was a light sleeper, she would at least reply to him in normal circumstances, but not that night. She was out like a candle. Her face and exposed skin were covered in soot, her hair was wild and there were speckles of charred material nestled trough the dark strands.
"Diana?" he called her, louder this time, brushing the back of his fingers on her cheek. "Diana, I'm home. Is everything alright?"
She opened an eye, just a slit though, enough for her to see him in the pale light coming from the streetlamps through the windows. She gave him a weary smile. "Hey, you're back…"
"I am, Angel, but I thought you would be asleep in our bed, not on the couch looking like you went through a fire."
"Ugh, I look like this because I went through numerous fires that broke out in a residential complex in Siene-Seint-Denis. You know, those huge apartment complexes with hundreds of small, overcrowded apartments? There. I spent three hours going in and out getting people to safety. How was your flight?"
"Not bad, met an interesting guy. Come on though, let's get you to bed." He slipped his arms beneath her shoulders and knees and picked her up.
"I can walk you know?" Her attempt at a sarcastic remark was drowned by a tired yawn.
"I know it very well, Diana. That doesn't mean I can't carry you to bed this way though."
She giggled and wiggled a little in his arms as he walked to the bedroom. "Steve, I need a shower."
"No, you need to sleep. You can take a shower next morning." He placed her on the bed and started unbuckling her armor. "Close your eyes, I can take care of you."
She let her head fall on his shoulder with a sigh. "Aren't you tired?"
"Nah…" He kissed her cheek. "Also, it won't take long to get you in your sleep attire, put your armor back on its stand and get to sleep myself. But no, I'm not tired." Deftly, he grabbed her tanktop from beneath her pillow and slid it over her head then tucked her arms through the sleeve holes. "There you go, ready for bed."
Diana finally lay down beneath the duvet with a whine. "I'm going stain the sheets."
Steve smiled and unbuttoned the first buttons of his shirt. "Then I'm going to wash them tomorrow when you're up. Don't worry about it Diana, I think the washing machine can handle a little bit of soot and dirt. It certainly can handle other stickier things."
He hadn't expected the pillow thrown straight to his face, so he couldn't dodge it or deflect it, but he managed to catch it before it fell on the floor. "I meant that time you spilled the orange juice all over the sheets when I brought you breakfast," he rebutted.
"Yeah well, there were other sticky fluids on those sheets if you remember." She yawned again. "Damn, I had other plans, but I'm worn out. Between work and the fire…"
Steve, now finally done with setting her armor on its stand and had gathered her grieves, shield and sword, walked at her side and kissed her. "Do I look like I'm worried? There will be time, don't fret."
She nuzzled his cheek and smiled. "Not fretting, just… I missed you, Steve."
"And I missed you too," he replied. "But, again, there's time. Could this be the morning you finally sleep in?" Now finally stripped to his underwear, he joined her beneath the covers and she quickly nestled herself against him, wrapping an arm around his chest.
"Don't think so. Antiope's training regiment is still way too ingrained in my body."
"Then sleep. I'll tell you about the flight tomorrow, it's nearly three AM, you usually wake up at six, that makes for three more hours of sleep." He kissed her temple. "We have the whole weekend ahead of us."
"Uhm," she mumbled an approving sound in the crook of his neck. "Got it. Good night."
"Goodnight, Angel."