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<|text|> children not my own, while you are gone for- what a year, two, three or four?" Tony growled and Stefen's nostrils flared, his brows arching minutely in a barely there and gone again expression of surprise and hurt, that Tony could only read because he was a damned fool.
“The children,” Tony prompted, jerking his head in the direction of the table. The eyes of Stefen and his crowd of hangers on followed him and one of the women, her cheeks bright with too much drink, made a cooing sound.
Gritting his teeth, Steve got up and stumbled toward the toilet stepping over the sleeping forms of his comrades. The water closet was barely big enough to fit him. Ducking his head through the narrow door he was already bumping elbows with the wall. The tight space didn’t stop him from nearly ripping open his trousers and taking himself in hand.
A few feet away Rogue turned from her own work and shared smile with him in the dark, her eyes bright with a familiar inner flame in the lamplight.
It was a moment before Tony's brain could remember anything besides the heat of Stefen’s mouth. Twisting on the bed to get closer, pressing up against his chest, it was everything he could do to remember not to put too much weight on him as he savored Stefen’s. It still terrified him how close he'd come to loosing this. Losing
He couldn't even blame the bruise. The skin under his eye was no longer as tender as it had once been and the bruising had faded to a pale yellow he could easily cover in the morning with powders. He hadn't even thought about the makeup washing off during their swim.
Tony was nearly dragged up the stairs and manhandled into the hallway and perhaps under different circumstances he might have enjoyed it but Stefen was developing a tendency to lug him around like Sara did her dolls and he was most certainly not a plaything.
“How did the Abbot take it?” Tony questioned, imagining that Stanislov had likely been a kitten in comparison. But Pavlok laughed and shook his head.
“What do you mean?” Steve asked, frowning. Tony really believed Péter was in danger. Which he was of course, but there was something more to it that Steve couldn’t put his finger on. “Tony is there something I should know?”
Ian’s eyes skirted over the room until they stopped suddenly, stuck on a familiar shape hanging by his dresser. He sat up, careful not to wake Artur.
It was time then. Tony gave him a wink and surreptitiously slipped through the press of bodies, over to where he’d left the captain’s mandolin, still wrapped up in the same sheet he’d found it under in the attic.
“Ona, you know we’re supposed to report the homeless.” she reminded her, though it didn't really matter. Ona knew that without fail, if they had something to spare either Magda or her mother would always hand it out and send the poor souls on. Even with the administration so strictly against them, word tended to spread amongst | <|output|> <|example|> children not my own, while you are gone for- what a year, two, three or four?" Tony growled and Stefen's nostrils flared, his brows arching minutely in a barely there and gone again expression of surprise and hurt, that Tony could only read because he was a damned fool. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> “The children,” Tony prompted, jerking his head in the direction of the table <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> Losing
He couldn't even blame the bruise <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> Tony gave him a wink and surreptitiously slipped through the press of bodies, over to where he’d left the captain’s mandolin, still wrapped up in the same sheet he’d found it under in the attic <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> Tony was nearly dragged up the stairs and manhandled into the hallway and perhaps under different circumstances he might have enjoyed it but Stefen was developing a tendency to lug him around like Sara did her dolls and he was most certainly not a plaything <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> “How did the Abbot take it?” Tony questioned, imagining that Stanislov had likely been a kitten in comparison <|indexes|> 4 <|example|> “Ona, you know we’re supposed to report the homeless <|indexes|> 5 | |
<|text|> the locals where those who were down on their luck could find a sympathetic hand.
Themen was just as Steve remembered it, the green paint on the door was still peeling and the silver bell still tinkled just the same way as they entered – so much so that a chill passed down Steve’s spine and for a moment the woman standing in front of the counter talking to Susann could only have been his Margrit, in one of those fashionable suites she liked (that her mother called mannish) and any minute now she was going to turn around in her bright red hat, and her precisely painted lips were going to spread into an exasperated smile because –
“What are you doing?” Natacha asked, her voice low as not to wake her younger siblings who had fallen into an exhausted sleep sandwiched between her and Péter.
“And when there’s not? What happens when people inevitably realize their savior is a myth?” Tony challenged.
Cameron nodded weakly, wet eyes latching on the captain though he refused to let go of his brother. "What about mama and papa? What’s going to happen to them?"
When Tony stayed quiet Stefen searched his eyes, but for once Tony had nothing to say. His only defense was the stillness of a mouse as the cat’s stare searched the shadows. It was new and uncomfortable and he could say without doubt that he did not particularly enjoy feeling mouse like. He tensed to pull away when Stefen spoke again.
“Come on now, easy does it,” Bucky murmured as Tony extracted the needle and swabbed at the beading blood. Bucky’s face was on the peaky side as he eased up his hold on Stefen.
"Won't Frauline Werner expect to be invited for super, being an old friend of the family? Herr Hammer seems to believe that is the case." Tony reminded him, because there was always a catch (always a boot to drop) when it came to Tony’s personal happiness.
"Which mean's what exactly?" Steve asked once he heard Bucky clomping up the stairs. He wanted to see if it would work almost as badly as Tony seemed to want to show him. Anybody could get their hands on one of the cheap People's Receivers that were manufactured around the country but a military grade radio with a transmitter was not so easily come by.
“I have a condition Harry! You don’t think I’d like to go to school, to join you and the other boys?” Péter swallowed thickly. It wasn’t that he was jealous of Harry, even though every time they met Harry looked older and wiser and brought more stories. It seemed to Péter that Harry had grown up and he hadn’t. Perhaps it was just that. Harry had left childhood behind for something he felt was worthwhile and he had left Péter behind. It was not a feeling he enjoyed and he did not know why his father insisted on it being that way.
More designs, this time concentrated on ships and naval weaponry. Long pages of notes on the construction of a battleship to be | <|output|> <|example|> the locals where those who were down on their luck could find a sympathetic hand. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> "Won't Frauline Werner expect to be invited for super, being an old friend of the family? Herr Hammer seems to believe that is the case <|indexes|> 0 0 | |
<|text|> outfitted with some new type of torpedo that was giving them problems… Steve faltered. Wait a minute, these were notes, an engineer’s notes concerning ongoing work outfitting the German Navy!
That could be cured no doubt about it by an introduction a fine lady, any fine lady, and several glasses of the houses finest. He’d been sure of it, but the urge to talk to any one of the numerous beautiful things crowding Stefen’s home that night had faded with every drink. These painted birds would kiss you with their lips and then gouge you with their talons if given half the chance. Too risky, just to lose himself in a warm body. Alcohol was straightforward, uncomplicated. Bottoms up. Bucky was damn determined to not feel another thing that night.
He didn't know what she’d done with his prison trousers, but she’d wiped him up at some point and done away with his soled garments. Now that he was more lucid, she was more wary, and Steve more determined to do for himself. He could roll over now and piss in the straw instead of soiling himself. Without a word and cheeks burning with shame, whenever she came to replace the soiled straw with fresh, she’d set the water bucket down beside him with a rag and he’d wash himself as best he could.
It was harder after that to keep up the pretense. Steve wanted nothing more than to fly home and see for himself that things were truly well with the children. There was a small terribly cowardly man in him who wanted to go home, pack all their bags and simply slip away into the night, abandoning everything and everyone else to whatever fate would meet them, so long as his children were not harmed.
“Virginia!” Hammer called anxiously, eyes darting every which way as if he expected to find Pepper hiding somewhere. “Virginia come quick!”
He and Bruce got into line with those lucky enough to not be born Jewish and Tony tried not to think about what a fraud he was. Tried to think only of getting home to Stefen and the children and to be grateful that he could.
"Trust me darling, everything will be fine." he said, louder this time in German. "Now please, come out of there before the good lieutenant here sounds the alarm."
“Herr Stark,” Stefen began as soon as the room was silent again. His voice was dangerously controlled. “I have granted you many liberties because I am fond of you. But you are never to speak to me that way again. Have I made myself clear?”
“YOU GUYS ARE SO IN LOVE, IT’S DISGUSTING!” Ransom yelled from the corridor, and Tony heard a loud crashing sound.
“Nah, I think Stevie here is forgetting who he is, honey. Why don’t you let me remind him?” Ransom said, taking a step. He wasn’t taking this seriously. He still thinks I’m that weak kid on the playground, Steve thought, clenching his jaw. He doesn’t see a soldier that hurt people. That killed people. “I’m gonna remind him real quick, don’t you worry. Come on Stevie, you aren’t scared, are you?”
The building’s big and | <|output|> <|example|> outfitted with some new type of torpedo that was giving them problems… Steve faltered. Wait a minute, these were notes, an engineer’s notes concerning ongoing work outfitting the German Navy! <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> “YOU GUYS ARE SO IN LOVE, IT’S DISGUSTING!” Ransom yelled from the corridor, and Tony heard a loud crashing sound. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 | | <|output|> <|example|> “Virginia!” Hammer called anxiously, eyes darting every which way as if he expected to find Pepper hiding somewhere <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> Tried to think only of getting home to Stefen and the children and to be grateful that he could <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> “I have granted you many liberties because I am fond of you <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> “I have granted you many liberties because I am fond of you <|indexes|> 3 3 | |
<|text|> scary, but he prefers to call it ugly. Captain America should not be scared from a building; he shouldn’t be scared of anything. The team has a silent agreement that he’s the boss, apparently, so Steve sticks to the status quo and tries to lead them. It’s not easy with Natasha threatening to stab someone every seven minutes and Tony not coming out of the garage
What difference would it make? Tony was dating his twin now. His damn twin. That meant it was about the personality, which was a hundred times worse. He had asked his friends for counsel but all he got was “you waited too long, idiot.” Natasha hadn’t even bothered with an answer, she had just snorted and left.
Tony didn’t listened to a word the pastor said. He looked at Steve, and Steve looked at him. His voice was distant to him, but also the “I do.” Was the most right thing he has ever said in his life.
His baby blue suit had a burgundy tie, his favorite color mixing with Steve’s. The garden was decorated with forget-me-nots and red roses along baby’s breaths. Tony’s mother always said that flowers meant more than words, and kept a bouquet of purple myrtles and lavenders at the grand salon at all times. When she fought Howard, she filled the house with peonies, representing the anger deep in her soul. Or Tansies, if she was furious. Of course, Howard never understood any of those meanings, but his mom did. That’s what mattered. Tony looked at the little honeysuckles that hanged from the walls of the mansion. That was their new home, the home he’ll live with Steve. His real home.
That seemed to humor his twin. For whatever reason, every time Steve was with Tony, it seemed so damn fun to Ransom. He always called Tony ‘steve’s little boyfriend’, and it just didn’t make sense to Steve that he suddenly wanted to bang him. Now that he thought of Ransom, it did. Ransom would do anything to rile him, including hurting Tony.
“I WAS GOING TO BEAT TONY!” Clint cries, stopping the knife with his hand and dodging the other knife with the other. “I WAS SO CLOSE, NAT!”
“You didn’t have to do this,” Tony says, staring at the piping hot coffee Steve made him. The coffee looks delicious, but Tony doesn’t like to hold things, so he gestures at the table. Steve idly puts it there, and holds Tony’s forearm.
“No medical.” Tony says quickly, maybe a bit too quickly because Steve looks at him with worried eyes. “Too many questions, not enough sleep, they’ll alert Rhodey, really don’t need that. Look, you tended to it pretty good, it’s good as new!” He tries to move his arm, but now without his usual amount of caffeine, he can feels the hot pain coursing through his pains. He yelpes, and Steve shakes his head, holding the arm again.
The feeling on his chest whenever he saw Tony was far from good, he knew, but he just couldn’t stop himself. He tried to look away, but wherever | <|output|> <|example|> scary, but he prefers to call it ugly. Captain America should not be scared from a building; he shouldn’t be scared of anything. The team has a silent agreement that he’s the boss, apparently, so Steve sticks to the status quo and tries to lead them. It’s not easy with Natasha threatening to stab someone every seven minutes and Tony not coming out of the garage <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> “I WAS GOING TO BEAT TONY!” Clint cries, stopping the knife with his hand and dodging the other knife with the other <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Steve idly puts it there, and holds Tony’s forearm <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> He had asked his friends for counsel but all he got was “you waited too long, idiot <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> “Too many questions, not enough sleep, they’ll alert Rhodey, really don’t need that <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> The coffee looks delicious, but Tony doesn’t like to hold things, so he gestures at the table <|indexes|> 4 | |
<|text|> he turned to, he found a piece of Tony that just made him queasy with admiration.
“Hey, Cap,” Tony calls behind him, after couple of minutes. It took Steve a while to get his breathing in order again, but his efforts are completely destroyed when Tony sneaks up on him. The man didn’t exactly sneak up, Steve thinks, he was just out of it.
“Tony, god, this is… And you haven’t felt that?” The fact is, Tony runs too high on caffeine to actually feel things, and he was elbow-deep in this new prototype, so he wouldn’t have probably notice it if his pants caught fire. Not that it hadn’t happened. “We’re gonna have to go the medical for this…”
“Ransom-“ Tony said, intrigued. Of course he doesn’t want Ransom telling their sexacapades, Steve thought, his eyes fixed on his drink. He doesn’t want me to hear it because I’ve just been this friend to him, not someone who can know about his dick. Not someone who can make him feel good, make him moan, squirm, make him fall apart in my hands. I can fuck him so much better than Ransom, and he knows it.
5 seconds later, he realized that wasn’t helping his fiancée at all, so he stopped messing with his tie and started messing with Steve’s. “Relax. This is going to be magical. I am 98% sure that Ransom is not going to kill anyone and if he tries to, Bucky would be more than happy to help us. Aunt Tilda is going to snooze off 8 minutes after the ceremony starts, and Natasha promised she won’t spill blood anywhere. I have to get her a Louis bag.” He kneaded Steve’s arms softly, and kissed him on the cheek. “I love you.”
“You know that’s not what I want.” Steve answered, his voice low. They waited. For some reason, New York was as quiet as it could be.
“THE GROOM AND THE GROOM!” He yelled, clearly drunk as...his usual self. “I PRONOUNCE YOU AS GROOM AND GROOM!” His black suit...BLACK SUIT?!
Press smile is different. It’s designed to look in control, designed to look confident. It’s nothing like the real Tony, and Steve hates is every time he sees it.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” is not the answer he would’ve expected. “I just lost to honeybear by three days. Three goddamn days.”
Steve’s “I do.” Was loud and clear and in love, and when they kissed, their souls melt into each other. Tony loved this man.
“I’d prefer it to end.” Steve said, taking another sip from the expensive champagne. He needed something stronger, if he wanted to end the night with all Ransom’s teeth in their place. “Do you think they give out whiskeys in here?”
Steve thinks he should keep the sweater, because it looks better on Tony than it’ll ever do on Steve.
“So, birdbrain,” Ransom said, one hand on Tony’s shoulder and one hand wrapped around his glass of whiskey. “So who’s topping between you and Discount Jesus? I bet it’s you.”
“Ransom, why the hell you’re not wearing the navy suit? I had it in your | <|output|> <|example|> he turned to, he found a piece of Tony that just made him queasy with admiration. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> Not that it hadn’t happened <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> <|indexes|> 1 1 | |
<|text|> dressing room!” Tony exclaimed and Steve let his head fall onto his knees.
Of course, Bucky, Sam and Nat wasn’t exactly glad he came. But hey, as long as fists weren’t talking, it was fine to Steve.
The doors open with a whim, and they make their way to the grand penthouse of Tony’s, the whole Manhattan beneath them, shining, glinting, shimmering. They never take their hands off each other, only stopping to let Tony breath (Steve has never thought that the enhanced lungs could work in
makes everything so much more complicated. He focuses on the movie, and looks at the fish doing…something.
Steve’s first blow landed on Ransom’s nose, and Steve was sure even the bartender heard the cracking sound. Then, he landed another on his left cheek, grabbed his arm and turned Ransom around. He kicked him from behind, causing him to fall flat on his face. Ransom cried with pain, and attempted to get up. Steve let him. He wanted to have more fun.
“Not much. New widow-bite, some arrows, maybe the birdhouse Thor had wanted. He’s still stuck on the color,” Tony says, taking a bite out of the stale Chinese takeout. Steve notices a red spot forming around the packaging.
Tony doesn’t have a dreams often, and when he does, they’re nightmares. Not this night, though. This night, Tony sees The Captain, holding Tony, and he almost feels the heartbeat of the man. The skin is warm and hot and familiar, and Tony melts to it. The name rolls on Steve’s tongue;
“Didn't need it” he grunted, at least he’d thought he hadn't needed it. He'd taken twice the amount recommended, only stopping when Virginia stumbled upon him.
Ian in contrast, seemed to have found his third arm. Unlike Péter and James he’d inherited his father's fabled ability with a rifle.
Bucky’s eyes flicked down to his sketchbook expecting to see drafts of the AVENGERS cartoon he’d described to Bucky when he’d laid out his crazy plan; instead he was met with the beginnings of a portrait. A portrait of a dark haired man wielding hammer and wrench illuminated by a rising sun.
“Whatever he promised you, we’ll pay double if you can get us to the station in half the time.” he offered, and that was the end of the fellows wavering.
When he looked up Steve was watching him with a stillness that made every nerve in Bucky’s body go quiet. He stopped twitching and nearly stopped breathing altogether as Steve gave him a small smile and murmured lowly in Romany, "It doesn’t get any easier the more you say it Buck. Trust me, I tried."
Tony read over the document, mildly surprised that his father had parted with so much money just to get someone to take Tony off his hands.
“Captain. So wonderful to see you.” General Schmidt stood just behind the girl, his arms crossed behind his back and posture ramrod straight as he smiled down at the child in a somewhat cold fashion. He seemed to suck the warmth out of the room just by standing there. “Ah and you brought your children. | <|output|> <|example|> dressing room!” Tony exclaimed and Steve let his head fall onto his knees. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> “Didn't need it” he grunted, at least he’d thought he hadn't needed it. He'd taken twice the amount recommended, only stopping when Virginia stumbled upon him. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 | | <|output|> <|example|> "
Tony read over the document, mildly surprised that his father had parted with so much money just to get someone to take Tony off his hands <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> Bucky’s eyes flicked down to his sketchbook expecting to see drafts of the AVENGERS cartoon he’d described to Bucky when he’d laid out his crazy plan; instead he was met with the beginnings of a portrait <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> Steve notices a red spot forming around the packaging <|indexes|> 3 3 | |
<|text|> And what a fine recovery they have made. Perhaps our many prayers for them have been answered?”
“His father was a convert.” Stefen supplied in that same very quiet way. It was too damn calm, when all of Tony’s nerves were rattling like there was gunfire going off in the next room. “Under the Nuremberg Laws Joshua could still be considered Jewish.”
He was hand in hand with mama, walking through the groves. The branches so thick overhead and so full of blossoms that he could only see patches of the blue sky. White petals drifting all around them and catching in his hair.
“You are the third of a... disappointing line of tutors. I don’t wish to displace you.” The unfinished ‘but I will’ hung in the air. The fingered whistle went to the captain's lips.
They were all here, but they were damp and their lips blue tinged so Tony’s second task was to get a fire going as soon as possible within the fireplace. Thankfully there was a dry stack of wood left over from whoever had last visited, and it wasn’t long before he and Bucky managed to get a flame going.
They peeled away from the camp with a kick of dirt beneath the truck’s wheels. Bucky racing down the unpathed road like a bat out of hell.
Something indecipherable had passed over her face but she’d nodded after a moment. The unspoken plea ‘don’t let them come here’ drifting between them.
"No." Steve cut in, he would not concede this point "You're my son and I'd die before I let someone hurt you the way I was hurt. If lying kept you safe, then I don't regret it."
“Do you really think it’s wise, getting her hopes up like this?” Péter, who was sitting in front of the coffee table with a weathered book open in front of him as he scribbled in a journal, looked up to say.
It wasn’t going to happen, he thought adamantly, even as he remembered all the ways in which the Reich was pushing the men to have more children. It didn’t matter. They couldn’t force him and Charlotte to, to
“And we've other songs, don't we?” Stark added helpfully. “Songs about flowers and dances and the seasons and... well you remember them.”
Tony opened one eye, frowning when he spotted Maria standing over him, her little red ball in hand. Artur was waiting impatiently behind her, waiting for her to throw the ball back.
“And how old are you James?” Tony asked, emphasizing the child’s real name and grinning at the boy’s disappointed scowl. Maria chose that moment to step forward, out of succession, and despite her brother’s dark glower in her direction the dark haired little girl smiled sweetly up at him and said, “I’m Maria and I’m five. That’s James and he’s eight. You’re smart and very pretty.”
. He couldn’t breathe. He was unhinged with it, circling a dark drain down into something that felt like madness.
“But it’s Christmas.” Sara insisted suddenly as if the idea had just struck her. “You can’t be sick on Christmas.”
There were footsteps approaching | <|output|> <|example|> And what a fine recovery they have made. Perhaps our many prayers for them have been answered?” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> Thankfully there was a dry stack of wood left over from whoever had last visited, and it wasn’t long before he and Bucky managed to get a flame going <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> They peeled away from the camp with a kick of dirt beneath the truck’s wheels <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> The branches so thick overhead and so full of blossoms that he could only see patches of the blue sky <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> ” The unfinished ‘but I will’ hung in the air <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> disappointing line of tutors <|indexes|> 5 <|example|> Bucky racing down the unpathed road like a bat out of hell <|indexes|> 6 | |
<|text|> outside the door, and he'd been expecting it he realized when he heard a quiet knock on the outside and Stefen's voice coming through the door.
He saw more than a few curious glances and expressions of surprised recognition as he made his way toward the Abbots office. Nobody had expected him to return here, Tony thought with distant humor. He couldn't blame them for that assumption.
He was here wasn’t he? Bobbing about in rowboat across the lake to go camping, of all things, when by rights there were a million other things he should be doing to keep them all safe.
Bucky had been perched by his window sill, his violin cocked at his throat as he played a familiar tune. A folk song, not unlike the sort the Uncles used to play. This one was about a tiny flower. They grew everywhere, and in the alps they grew so numerous they covered the hills like snow. They’d seen such sights during the war. Even amidst all that blood and death they’d been soft lovely little things…
Her hands trembled as she entered the parlor, her gaze moving to the telephone on the side table near the sitting chair Stefen liked to occupy.
Harold stomped his boots clear of snow and scraped his feet on the doormat before carrying the pile of wet wood in his arm over to dry by the kitchen stove. When he was done, he came over by the sink where Tony and Pepper were washing up from lunch in order to wash his hands.
"You’re probably right." Bucky agreed, swerving the truck so violently Tony was thrown against the passenger door. Christ! When he could right himself, he glanced quickly into the back of the truck, relieved to see that nobody had fallen out. The men in the back were all hunkered down, trying to make themselves as small as possible, but the soldiers chasing them were gaining ground and soon it wouldn't matter. They'd be sitting targets.
Distantly she wondered if that was the reason her mother and her grandmother had died as well. Had the doctor given them medicine for their fevers only for them to die of something much worse? It was horrible to think about, so it was probably true. That was the way life was. Only children flinched away from the truth and Natacha Rogers was not a child. Not anymore. | <|output|> <|example|> outside the door, and he'd been expecting it he realized when he heard a quiet knock on the outside and Stefen's voice coming through the door. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> That was the way life was <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> "You’re probably right <|indexes|> 1 1 | |
<|text|> <|example|> His lips started traveling upwards toward my cocklet and clit. With one swift moment he swallowed down my cocklet and started sucking, hard. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> you Michelle of apartment 18 you also think that carriers are just women with dicks. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 <|example|> “Yes,” the fellow answered after a moment, his eyes flicking nervously to Benjamino, who was standing at Steve’s left attempting to be unobtrusive. “I know his face well. All the shoe shiners know to look out for him. He is a fascist -” the man spat the word like it was dirty, and then seemed to catch himself. His eyes went big and darted fearfully to Captain Altera, whose attention had been pricked by a word he understood. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 | <|example|> the Russian’s guns. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> was Artur, who took one look at him and made an explosive noise of delight, zooming toward him like a bullet to target. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> over the world looking for ancient artifacts, battling barbarians, wooing pretty women and the like. The stories could be better in my opinion but the artwork is so thrilling it makes up for it.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> He pleaded, looking apologetically at the monk who looked supremely uncomfortable all of a sudden. “I know it’s an inconvenience but it’s just for the night. He’ll be more reasonable when he feels better.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> speaking to the crowd. They were HJ Steve noted, and among the crowd they’d managed to rally Steve could spot at least fifty more. Even from their distance Steve could hear the faint sound of their raised voices. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> Steve’s eyes flew to his. “We are not the monsters our foreign enemies paint us. Only, just last week I oversaw the removal of a band of illegal Jews…” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> His lips started traveling upwards toward my cocklet and clit. With one swift moment he swallowed down my cocklet and started sucking, hard. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> “Yes,” the fellow answered after a moment, his eyes flicking nervously to Benjamino, who was standing at Steve’s left attempting to be unobtrusive. “I know his face well. All the shoe shiners know to look out for him. He is a fascist -” the man spat the word like it was dirty, and then seemed to catch himself. His eyes went big and darted fearfully to Captain Altera, whose attention had been pricked by a word he understood. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 | | <|output|> <|example|> “I know his face well <|indexes|> 0 | |
<|text|> <|example|> was Artur, who took one look at him and made an explosive noise of delight, zooming toward him like a bullet to target. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> over the world looking for ancient artifacts, battling barbarians, wooing pretty women and the like. The stories could be better in my opinion but the artwork is so thrilling it makes up for it.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> He pleaded, looking apologetically at the monk who looked supremely uncomfortable all of a sudden. “I know it’s an inconvenience but it’s just for the night. He’ll be more reasonable when he feels better.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> speaking to the crowd. They were HJ Steve noted, and among the crowd they’d managed to rally Steve could spot at least fifty more. Even from their distance Steve could hear the faint sound of their raised voices. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> Steve’s eyes flew to his. “We are not the monsters our foreign enemies paint us. Only, just last week I oversaw the removal of a band of illegal Jews…” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> ride and the baroness had smiled sympathetically at him with a shake of her head and a wink. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> said into the silence with a heavy sigh and Steve frowned, turning to counter him as outside the train station came into view down the block. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> the curious old woman and shoot Tony a look and the monk just smiled winsomely back. Susann’s eyes looked Tony up and down with amusement. There was a clever gleam in her blue eyes as she murmured, “A monk. I suppose it <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> surely, a reason to keep fighting. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> was Artur, who took one look at him and made an explosive noise of delight, zooming toward him like a bullet to target. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|indexes|> 0 | |
<|text|> <|example|> speaking to the crowd. They were HJ Steve noted, and among the crowd they’d managed to rally Steve could spot at least fifty more. Even from their distance Steve could hear the faint sound of their raised voices. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> Steve’s eyes flew to his. “We are not the monsters our foreign enemies paint us. Only, just last week I oversaw the removal of a band of illegal Jews…” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> ride and the baroness had smiled sympathetically at him with a shake of her head and a wink. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> said into the silence with a heavy sigh and Steve frowned, turning to counter him as outside the train station came into view down the block. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> the curious old woman and shoot Tony a look and the monk just smiled winsomely back. Susann’s eyes looked Tony up and down with amusement. There was a clever gleam in her blue eyes as she murmured, “A monk. I suppose it <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> surely, a reason to keep fighting. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> speaking to the crowd. They were HJ Steve noted, and among the crowd they’d managed to rally Steve could spot at least fifty more. Even from their distance Steve could hear the faint sound of their raised voices. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> Only, just last week I oversaw the removal of a band of illegal Jews…” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> ride and the baroness had smiled sympathetically at him with a shake of her head and a wink <|indexes|> 0 0 | |
<|text|> <|example|> said into the silence with a heavy sigh and Steve frowned, turning to counter him as outside the train station came into view down the block. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> the curious old woman and shoot Tony a look and the monk just smiled winsomely back. Susann’s eyes looked Tony up and down with amusement. There was a clever gleam in her blue eyes as she murmured, “A monk. I suppose it <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> surely, a reason to keep fighting. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> always been right and his mind sound, even if nothing else about him ever had been. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> work out the tension in in the muscle. Thankfully his seizers had tapered off, but he still suffered muscle cramps after long periods of activity. The full day they’d had must have been agony, but he’d born every second of it with determined positivity for the children’s sake. He was such a noble idiot at times, and Tony loved that about him. Loved him so fiercely it angered him, that Stefen could think of himself as anything but good. Not perfect, but so heartbreakingly good. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> no doubt those of his captor, and all of his thoughts were consumed with impotent rage. It burned through his veins and into the back of his throat. Caught. He was caught, again. Steve bellowed, an aggrieved roar, his entire body trembling as he struggled to regain leverage and lunge at the threat. So close. He’d been so close. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> there to see it, he still dreamed of laying his mother down in her grave, her face peaceful finally in death, the silver gleam of her bridal coins twinkling out from beneath the dirt they shoveled over her. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> was the miracle of them (his children) that even with his head cracked and his heart bleeding openly in his chest, she made him smile. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> said into the silence with a heavy sigh and Steve frowned, turning to counter him as outside the train station came into view down the block. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> He was such a noble idiot at times, and Tony loved that about him <|indexes|> 0 | |
<|text|> <|example|> always been right and his mind sound, even if nothing else about him ever had been. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> work out the tension in in the muscle. Thankfully his seizers had tapered off, but he still suffered muscle cramps after long periods of activity. The full day they’d had must have been agony, but he’d born every second of it with determined positivity for the children’s sake. He was such a noble idiot at times, and Tony loved that about him. Loved him so fiercely it angered him, that Stefen could think of himself as anything but good. Not perfect, but so heartbreakingly good. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> no doubt those of his captor, and all of his thoughts were consumed with impotent rage. It burned through his veins and into the back of his throat. Caught. He was caught, again. Steve bellowed, an aggrieved roar, his entire body trembling as he struggled to regain leverage and lunge at the threat. So close. He’d been so close. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> there to see it, he still dreamed of laying his mother down in her grave, her face peaceful finally in death, the silver gleam of her bridal coins twinkling out from beneath the dirt they shoveled over her. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> was the miracle of them (his children) that even with his head cracked and his heart bleeding openly in his chest, she made him smile. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> children not my own, while you are gone for- what a year, two, three or four?" Tony growled and Stefen's nostrils flared, his brows arching minutely in a barely there and gone again expression of surprise and hurt, that Tony could only read because he was a damned fool. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> the locals where those who were down on their luck could find a sympathetic hand. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> outfitted with some new type of torpedo that was giving them problems… Steve faltered. Wait a minute, these were notes, an engineer’s notes concerning ongoing work outfitting the German Navy! <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> “YOU GUYS ARE SO IN LOVE, IT’S DISGUSTING!” Ransom yelled from the corridor, and Tony heard a loud crashing sound. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 | <|example|> scary, but he prefers to call it ugly. Captain America should not be scared from a building; he shouldn’t be scared of anything. The team has a silent agreement that he’s the boss, apparently, so Steve sticks to the status quo and tries to lead them. It’s not easy with Natasha threatening to stab someone every seven minutes and Tony not coming out of the garage <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> he turned to, he found a piece of Tony that just made him queasy with admiration. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> always been right and his mind sound, even if nothing else about him ever had been. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> “YOU GUYS ARE SO IN LOVE, IT’S DISGUSTING!” Ransom yelled from the corridor, and Tony heard a loud crashing sound. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 | | <|output|> <|example|> Loved him so fiercely it angered him, that Stefen could think of himself as anything but good <|indexes|> 0 0 | |
<|text|> “Ten hours, thirty-six minutes.” Sherlock glanced at his watch and followed the grey haired man down the corridor towards the morgue. He held Maeve close to his body and stood outside of the door when Greg walked in to inform Molly of their arrival.
“And I’m just saying,” Siger said with force, “that sitting here insulting my son will not impress me or anybody here, it will alienate you from further events.”
Sherlock was lain out flat on his back, a blanket beneath him on the floor between the two armchairs. Maeve was on his naked chest, resting on her tummy and equally as naked in just a nappy. He was wearing only trousers and socks, eyes fixed on Maeve as she lifted her head in short unsure movements, strengthening the back and neck. They had already used the colourful tummy time mat, now he was keeping her company. She didn’t like being left alone for too long and preferred to be in Sherlock’s company.
Sherlock pulled open the front door and a rush of cold air hit him in the face, blowing his already messy curls back from his face. He was dressed and the papoose strapped beneath his coat, which had Maeve facing him with her head resting on his chest. One large hand was resting on her back. He stepped outside and closed the door, placing his now free hand on her head. She had a hat on and a coat. His coat acted as protection against the cold summer night wind.
“Have a lovely dinner and a nice stay,” he said to John’s parents and left, with one last look at the cat shooting daggers at him.
“I can’t.” Sherlock interrupted. His eyes flicked over the occupants of the room, Sally had lowered her head and was pretending (badly but with good intentions) to look at the case file while Anderson looked out of the window. “I can’t imagine what these parents are going through, and, I can’t, I won’t be able to think if she’s taken away from me.”
“Mycroft, no this is important, I need to speak with him now…Anthea, someone’s taken Maeve.” Sherlock could hear John speaking but was too focused on the passing people. “Mycroft, thank God, someone’s taken Maeve, yes, she’s gone! We were at a scene, an officer was meant to be watching her, she’s gone.”
“Yeah.” John gave a small nod and rose to his feet. He rocked his body from side to side and hushed Maeve gently, his lips pressed against her hair.
“Case.” Sherlock finally looked up from his phone and blinked for a moment before looking down at John and Maeve.
Hey I've been super stressed recently so please, just be patient with me while I work on this because I'm in week two of my final year of uni and its super stressful. I will update as soon as I am possible.
The older man then looked down at Maeve and nodded towards her, Mycroft followed his gaze, he added, “doesn’t she make you all broody though?”
“Of course I tasted it,” Sherlock snapped in response, not taking | <|output|> <|example|> “Ten hours, thirty-six minutes.” Sherlock glanced at his watch and followed the grey haired man down the corridor towards the morgue. He held Maeve close to his body and stood outside of the door when Greg walked in to inform Molly of their arrival. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> “I can’t <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> He was wearing only trousers and socks, eyes fixed on Maeve as she lifted her head in short unsure movements, strengthening the back and neck <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 <|example|> “And I’m just saying,” Siger said with force, “that sitting here insulting my son will not impress me or anybody here, it will alienate you from further events <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> His eyes flicked over the occupants of the room, Sally had lowered her head and was pretending (badly but with good intentions) to look at the case file while Anderson looked out of the window <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> Maeve was on his naked chest, resting on her tummy and equally as naked in just a nappy <|indexes|> 4 <|example|> ” John gave a small nod and rose to his feet <|indexes|> 5 5 | |
<|text|> his eyes off of Maeve. “What do you think?”
Sherlock stepped inside the large changing room and locked the door behind himself, he exhaled loudly, dropped his bags onto the small bench and brought Maeve away from his chest to look into her slightly sleepy eyes. “We’re going to go swimming.”
“She is much like her father in that regard,” Mycroft placed the tumbler on the table and stepped elegantly over to his partner. He took a moment to appreciate the pair of them before edging closer, wrapping his arm around Greg’s waist.
“Uncle Mycroft will be here soon.” He told her. “And Daddy is bringing back takeaway for dinner tonight. We’re having Chinese, one day you’ll be old enough to eat with us.”
Good news is that I've planned out the next fifteen or so chapters, which also took forever because I'm having to do all sorts of research into babies, the important milestones e.c.t.
A doctor, a middle aged man with grey hair at his temples, and their doctor, Doctor Green came from the doors, stepping into the hallway. Their eyes immediately landed on Mycroft and Anthea who stood as they entered.
“Everything looks good, Mr Holmes.” The nurse said. Mycroft turned to face her. “Have you got a name in mind?”
“Yeah, that’s better.” John put the bowl of ice back on the table and sat back in his chair, relieved. “Hopefully she’ll have a sleep soon.”
Sherlock stopped in front of the large town house, John’s eyes widened but he didn’t comment. He knew that Sherlock came from money but a house in Kensington bloody palace gardens was not was he was expecting. A black car pulled up beside them, drawing out a low groan of annoyance from the consulting detective. The elder Holme sibling stepped out, hooking his umbrella over his arm with grace and straightening his suit jacket meticulously.
They found themselves at Angelo’s for dinner, on their usual table that Angelo insisted on reserving with Maeve replacing the chairs so that she was looking at Sherlock from inside her pram, they had changed it back to a pram as opposed to the car seat setting on the deep purple buggy. Maeve was awake but keeping herself entertained with the arch above her pram, toys and a mirror hanging above her. They had already ordered, water with ice and a glass of red wine in front of them both.
“Two sugars.” Sherlock smiled. Violet rolled her eyes but pushed herself to her feet and went into the kitchen. He called after her. “The cupboard on the right.”
He was right, the photograph was very nice and the first of its kind in the flat but Sherlock doubted it would be the last. It was black and white, Maeve lying on her back atop of a teal silk sheet. She was completely nude, with her knees bent and a foot covering her privates. Both of her hands were resting on her torso. Her dark hair was neat and long eyelashes resting against her rosy cheeks, pink lips pursed thoughtfully as though he was thinking hard in her sleep.
John | <|output|> <|example|> his eyes off of Maeve. “What do you think?” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> She was completely nude, with her knees bent and a foot covering her privates <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Maeve was awake but keeping herself entertained with the arch above her pram, toys and a mirror hanging above her <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> ”
Sherlock stopped in front of the large town house, John’s eyes widened but he didn’t comment <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> We’re having Chinese, one day you’ll be old enough to eat with us <|indexes|> 3 3 | |
<|text|> was continuing in burping her, rubbing her back with a protective muslin over his clothes. She looked happier now that she’d been sick. “Poor baby,” John cooed.
“Whatever you want.” Greg decided with a firm nod of his head. He couldn’t resist running his thumb over the sleeping babies face, she didn’t stir despite her light sleep.
“No, this is different.” Sherlock shook his head, mind swimming with the onslaught of new information and shut his eyes for a moment to regain some clarity.
He stormed into the room, not bothering to knock. John startled awake, sitting up in his bed completely alert within a moment. Sherlock opened his mouth to speak but shut it again, suddenly very aware that it was early hours of the morning, he was holding his daughter and John wasn’t wearing a top. His eyes were glued to the ex-soldiers chest, he was tanned and muscular despite his time away from the army. The scar on his shoulder was mesmerising, still pink in the middle but faded into silver in the web of the wound.
“She’s fussy.” Sherlock announced as he allowed John to take her from him, with a small annoyed grumble from Maeve as she settled in John’s shorter secure arms and went back to her bottle with energy. John rolled his eyes at the consulting detective as he picked up the journal and began reading, eyes skimming over the scribbled handwriting with interest.
“- is having with our three month old daughter. Shameful really,” he couldn’t suppress the smile. “Shameful.”
“I’m working.” The auburn hair man told him, leaning back in his chair and crossing one leg over the other.
Sherlock’s eyes widened marginally but he didn’t respond, instead he shrugged and turned his head to face the back of the sofa; nose pressing against the top of Maeve’s hair. The soft strands tickled his nose, he ignored the sensation and closed his eyes.
John did just that, he watched. The pair of them waited, wrapped up together in blankets with baby Maeve sleeping soundly, until the first glimmer of light appeared on the horizon behind the shadows of the trees and long expanses of garden. They watched the sun rise with abundance of colour until the room was full of light and the garden shedding its coat of dew in way for another beautiful summer day.
Sherlock shifted Maeve slightly so that she was resting comfortably against him, head tucked into his collarbone as she started to drift back into sleep. He held the phone with his free hand. “Unavoidable?”
They were stood outside the building. Mycroft lent against the clean black car watching as his brother bounced Maeve up and down rhythmically, her chin was on his shoulder and his hand rubbed her back in small circular motions. There was a muslin on his shoulder protecting his suit and a thin blanket held over her back, making sure that she was not only kept warm but protected against the warm sun.
He then made his way upstairs. John was sat in his arm chair, he folded the book in his hand and glanced | <|output|> <|example|> was continuing in burping her, rubbing her back with a protective muslin over his clothes. She looked happier now that she’d been sick. “Poor baby,” John cooed. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> “Unavoidable?”
They were stood outside the building <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> Mycroft lent against the clean black car watching as his brother bounced Maeve up and down rhythmically, her chin was on his shoulder and his hand rubbed her back in small circular motions <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> The pair of them waited, wrapped up together in blankets with baby Maeve sleeping soundly, until the first glimmer of light appeared on the horizon behind the shadows of the trees and long expanses of garden <|indexes|> 2 2 | |
<|text|> over his shoulder at the consulting detective. The whole room was covered with bags and boxes from mothercare, their delivery from earlier. The place was clean in his absence and things packed away neatly.
“Good morning,” John smirked at the sight of an overly tired Sherlock. His hair was messy from sleep and his eyes still adjusting to the light, he blinked and rubbed his eyes.
Sherlock with his new found freedom scanned the room and gracefully sat down in one of the armchairs.
Sherlock turned back to the window and John swung his legs out of bed, pulling a blanket over his body in the process and got to his feet. The rugs covering the wooden floor was cold and he wanted nothing more than to lay back down and sleep, but he stood up and walked towards the window.
Violet looked alarmed but didn’t have much time to remedy that as Sherlock snatched the infant from her arms, his face full of worry. He pulled the baby close to his chest, his hand cradling her with great care as he bent his head down to whisper in her ear. “Shh, you’re ok. Everything is ok. Daddy is right here.” He started jiggling, moving her up and down while swaying slightly.
The moment the plane landed and the air hostess told them they were free to leave Sherlock grabbed the nappy bag, rose to his feet and rushed off of the plane leaving a confused John in his wake.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes. His baby was currently sucking on his brother’s neck, small hands grasping the front of his suit. “She is a baby.” He said simply.
“We show my mother we are here, she’ll fuss then we can, hopefully, find somewhere to hide until dinner.”
Sherlock swept out of the room. John snorted and followed, it would have looked far more dramatic if he had been wearing his coat, but the consulting detective carried himself in a way that was both intimidating and elegant. Greg and Sally waited for John to pass before following.
“The man responsible for this, the man holding your son,” Sherlock cleared his throat, “he would have been watching your son, that means you may have seen him at some point, I’d like you to think back and inform one of the PC’s of anyone that strikes you, anything will help, and if we can get an accurate description then we may be able to ID him.”
“Well, that told us didn’t it.” John said to Maeve. She hit his chest with her fist. “Come on then.”
“Greg texted, after we left the crime scene, she was upset when you left her.” John told him, “and she prefers your company over anybody else’s, I live in the same house; feed her, change her and she would still rather be with you than me.”
I'm finished with exams and stuff!! So yes, plenty of time for writing. This chapter would have been done sooner but I had massive writers block.
“Is that the only noun available to those in this house?” He asked curiously, scooping Maeve up from the carseat | <|output|> <|example|> over his shoulder at the consulting detective. The whole room was covered with bags and boxes from mothercare, their delivery from earlier. The place was clean in his absence and things packed away neatly. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> ”
“Greg texted, after we left the crime scene, she was upset when you left her <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> Everything is ok <|indexes|> 1 1 | |
<|text|> and pausing for a moment with her just resting in his arms, still sound asleep.
“Okay.” Greg nodded and his face dropped. “I also got you some cufflinks, they’re in the bedroom in case you don’t want to wear the ring, you know, sentiment and all that.”
Enjoy, feedback is lovely as usual. Sorry if there are any mistakes, I've got lots of deadlines coming up so I'll be a little less active, you will have the next update soon though hopefully.
“The mother” The doctor continued. “A colleague of mine treated her, she came in two days ago with contractions and had” she gestured to the baby in Sherlock’s arms “this little lady that evening. They were kept in for observation and she left at nine o’clock this morning.”
“One of my many responsibilities as a father,” Sherlock said begrudgingly but the slight pull of his lips betrayed his cold image.
“No, but the paintings in the hallway use a similar brush stroke and palette of colour, one of which does have your signature, it’s a simple enough deduction that this is also one of your paintings.” Sherlock observed. “The frame is also handmade, Harold made it with great care and caution leading me to believe that he admires this painting above most, it’s his favourite but why? The scene is ordinary, somewhere in the Cotswolds judging from the local yellow limestone cottage and the scenery but it’s important, and aged, not new like the ones in the hallway, so this one is sentimental. A scene from a family holiday, the last one before John was deployed, if I’m right, but I’m always right.”
It hurt. He hadn’t expected it to hurt so much, leaving her for an extended period of time. His heart thumped and stopped when he saw a mother walking along with a pram, it felt wrong, so wrong to be without her. He knew she was fine and that Mycroft would take care of her, he even found himself with his phone out and writing out messages to his brother before he’d delete them and pocket the phone again. But this, right now, it felt right. He sighed in content against his daughter’s forehead, watching the strands of black hair move before he closed his eyes.
“So we look for clues at the scene, anything that can lead us to this…man!” John hissed the last word, obviously wanting to replace it with something more vulgar but stopping himself last minute with a glance at the snoring baby. “He must have tools of some sort that he uses and transports.”
Mycroft had showered, something which wasn’t as simple as it had been before with a new-born baby in tow. He left her in the bedroom with the door open and the baby monitor that Anthea had picked up. She didn’t as much as stir. When he was dry and dressed in a simple pair of navy blue slacks with a white shirt tucked in. He decided against the tie and waistcoat, instead, he placed a simple light grey jumper over the top. It wouldn’t do to | <|output|> <|example|> and pausing for a moment with her just resting in his arms, still sound asleep. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> It wouldn’t do to <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> He decided against the tie and waistcoat, instead, he placed a simple light grey jumper over the top <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> He left her in the bedroom with the door open and the baby monitor that Anthea had picked up <|indexes|> 2 2 | |
<|text|> be too dressed up with a new-born baby in the house. He was bound to get messy at some point.
"I… have never been so angry with him. He threatened you, to draw me out. It was so much like standing on that roof, with no choice. I told him he wasn't necessary to me. I told him he was a fool to leave you when I could never love him like you do."
Standing, John yanked his watch off and threw it on the table. He looked at it and shook his head, then returned his eyes to the cold face while wearing his own frosty military calm like a badge of dare.
"Your wish is my command," Sherlock said viciously. Sherlock reached into the desk drawer and pulled out John's Sig 226R and checked the mag and flicked off the safety.
Rat shook his head, “Wounded but already in the wind. Pop or drop?” Rat demanded to know if John was in a condition to move or would he have to stay and play wounded innocent.
“There are always two of us. The two of us against the rest of the world? Don’t you read the blog? On your knees, Professor. Hands behind your head.”
“If that is necessary, at least do it properly.” He cupped her head, fingers grasping her hair possessively and took her mouth with hunger, making her whimper as she fiddled with the phone. It took an inordinate amount of time to make the device do her bidding the second time. He didn’t stop for several minutes after the tell-tale click and long after both of them had begun to need more oxygen than normal respirations provided.
John shook his head. "Not precisely, but I did deduce some very enlightening truths. Something forced him. Not physically, something got in his head and it wasn't me. The fake call from you that wasn't you about Mrs. Hudson. The choice of method. Greg, he would not have been opposed to ending his life. His life was a toy to Sherlock. But that was not lethal enough. His ego would never have picked something he could have survived. He would have asked me questions and the second he realized he could survive with a damaged mind, he would have made other arrangements."
“No.” John cleared his throat, refusing to let his anger win. “But I would like to find every ounce you have in your possession and pour it out the window.”
She remembered the way she had giggled and protested and yet had wanted him with abandoned need. She had tried to warn herself that he wouldn't respect a girl who acted like such a whore for a man, but that thought hadn't stopped her from meeting his thrusts, lost in that building need of her own to be free and take the pleasure of him no matter the consequences. Her stomach fluttered at the recalled sensation of giving up all pretenses that she was not lost in him that moment. She closed her eyes and sighed, shakily placing her hand in that exact spot where she | <|output|> <|example|> be too dressed up with a new-born baby in the house. He was bound to get messy at some point. <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> "I… have never been so angry with him. He threatened you, to draw me out. It was so much like standing on that roof, with no choice. I told him he wasn't necessary to me. I told him he was a fool to leave you when I could never love him like you do." <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 | | <|output|> <|example|> Something forced him <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> She closed her eyes and sighed, shakily placing her hand in that exact spot where she <|indexes|> 1 | |
<|text|> had allowed herself to be consumed beyond reason or thought.
John laughed and offered to refill Mycroft’s glass with the expensive whiskey he had bought John for some occasion he deemed within his boundary of proper behavior. Mycroft sipped delicately and Mary studied him closely but seemed satisfied.
"Yes, I did. But I think we both played our part in it, don't you? Now it's time for us to pay the price. Keep your wits, my dear. You will need them. "
"Thing is, we have a few CCTV frames, showing him walking with a man. We think it was him, not the best angle, but I hoped maybe he mentioned meeting a friend or where he was going after the park. If I didn't know better…I mean he was a tall sort, it kinda reminded me … never mind, of happier days. He didn't seem distressed. He was on the cameras for Tower Bridge rescue; he just was walking along and suddenly turned and climbed up and jumped. No standing there, no time for anyone to say a thing. Tosser with the camera phone was recordin' before. Would'a missed it entirely otherwise. Damnedest thing I ever … not a second's hesitation. Most pace back and forth and think about it. He didn't. I just can't get my head around that. He didn't think about any of us."
“ So, how do you plan to wake up? You need to wake up. I will do whatever it takes, just tell me what you need.”
Tears filled John’s eyes and he looked up and sucked a breath before nodding. He opened his palms and shrugged as if to say ‘nothing to be done, it just happened.’ “Is that really so surprising? You had some prior first-hand experience with how it would feel. Irene Adler ring any bells? I knew the day I met you and I knew the day you died. Five-hundred-thirty days. That was all I got. It was the best time of my life. It was everything horrible and wonderful and quite insane and that was never going to happen to me again. The game was over. I hoped. Prayed. Begged. Cried like a fucking baby. Glad you didn’t see that actually. I dreamed of you and I hated myself for never having the damned balls to tell you what you meant to me. It might have made a difference, probably not. Definitely not because of the fake bit. But I didn’t know that then. I didn’t know.”
John finally agreed, holding the list and running all possible scenarios through his head as he tuned out all but the man before him.
"Machine." He hadn't meant it. He'd meant, notice me, explain to me, help me understand, let me in. Let me help. Stop being right and just be less wrong. He'd meant, If I can't hurt you, then it is true that you can't love me. That you don't' love me. That you never will love me. Please, stop being fake and show me you give a damned. Please love me back.
Rushing up the stairs he found | <|output|> <|example|> had allowed herself to be consumed beyond reason or thought. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> ”
John finally agreed, holding the list and running all possible scenarios through his head as he tuned out all but the man before him <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> Rushing up the stairs he found <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 <|example|> Tosser with the camera phone was recordin' before <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> That you don't' love me <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> We think it was him, not the best angle, but I hoped maybe he mentioned meeting a friend or where he was going after the park <|indexes|> 4 | |
<|text|> a swollen gasping creature wearing Sherlock's hair and a suit bedazzled with stingers and alive with bees still struggling with the dismount. It was something out of a horror movie and just as he thought this, a sodden bee crawled out of Sherlock's mouth.
Four hours later, Sherlock appeared at Mycroft's desk, smirking. "This should accomplish more than you hoped. They were both arrogant and spoke quite freely. Now where is he? I have yelling to pretend to listen to and I want to get it over as quickly as possible." Sherlock says rolling his neck and rubbing his left shoulder.
John had no way of measuring the passing of time because the drugs they gave him to keep him docile kept him without ability to judge the routines of staff, or even remember for certain how many times Sherlock had visited. He could only glimpse his bandages and judge by the fading amounts of fluids seeping from them that weeks rather than days had passed. They never allowed him to be conscious while they attended to his needs. He had remained perfectly cooperative and passive, yet they still restrained him, sedated him and treated his every movement as a possible hostile escape strategy.
“I hate you both.” Sherlock said, climbing to his knees at the side of the bed. He looked up at his partner and daughter between his lashes.
The consulting detective pulled back from his position on top of her and clutched at his side, blood wetting his hands as he applied pressure to the wound.
“Yes, I know.” Sherlock said softly. He shifted her so that she was pressed against his chest, one hand on her bum and the other cradling her skull. “You’re ok.”
“It’s not low tar, is it?” He asked, feigning annoyance. It was clear to the both of them he was grateful.
“Maeve.” Sherlock warned. She babbled again, this time quieter, and lifter her head up. Sherlock turned to Victor. “If you would, your case.”
Mycroft and Greg were sat together on the sofa when John arrived home. The elder Holmes on one side with his back incredibly straight and Greg beside him, close together. Maeve was sleeping in her Moses basket that was on the coffee table, snoring gently as they watched the television on mute.
John shifted in his seat. “I don’t want to argue with you, Sherlock. I just want you to understand that what you did was….well, it was a bit not good.”
‘What was it, Sherlock?’ He hadn’t meant to sound so angry – God knows if he ever had to think of something that could cause Sherlock to fall back, it would have been this – but seeing him like this was almost too much for him.
Tea was waiting for him in the kitchen of 221B - Sherlock still had remind himself every morning that John was back - and he could hear the agonisingly slow typing of his flatmate. He made his way to the living room, cup of tea in hand.
They’d spoken about this, Sherlock realised as he took in both men. James looked calm, in | <|output|> <|example|> a swollen gasping creature wearing Sherlock's hair and a suit bedazzled with stingers and alive with bees still struggling with the dismount. It was something out of a horror movie and just as he thought this, a sodden bee crawled out of Sherlock's mouth. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> “I hate you both.” Sherlock said, climbing to his knees at the side of the bed. He looked up at his partner and daughter between his lashes. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|example|> ‘What was it, Sherlock?’ He hadn’t meant to sound so angry – God knows if he ever had to think of something that could cause Sherlock to fall back, it would have been this – but seeing him like this was almost too much for him. <|indexes|> 2 2 2 | | <|output|> <|example|> “Maeve <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> Maeve was sleeping in her Moses basket that was on the coffee table, snoring gently as they watched the television on mute <|indexes|> 1 1 1 <|example|> "This should accomplish more than you hoped <|indexes|> 2 2 2 <|example|> "This should accomplish more than you hoped <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> Four hours later, Sherlock appeared at Mycroft's desk, smirking <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> Now where is he? I have yelling to pretend to listen to and I want to get it over as quickly as possible <|indexes|> 5 <|example|> “I hate you both <|indexes|> 6 | |
<|text|> control. The commander. And James was curious and more than a bit aroused.
he thought. And it was. The onslaught of information Sherlock received from just watching them was staggering. This was John like he had never seen him before, not once in all those months. This was a younger John, more carefree, more lust driven. And Sherlock sensed the same change in James. It was stunning.
Sherlock doesn’t say anything. How could he? Because he knows, no matter how selfish he might have been in the past, ever since John limped into his life… there was no pain Sherlock would not endure for John Watson. There was nothing his body, his mind, his soul, his heart, would not endure for John Watson. How could he tell John that every single day without him killed him? How could he tell John that the mere sight of that golden band on his fingers tore his heart apart. There was no line John would be able to cross; Sherlock was already lost and broken for him. Sherlock already loved.
The will is read. John vomits at the huge estate. Mycroft offers to continue to manage the holdings, just like he always had for his brother. John shakes his head. " I don't want it. I don't want any of it."
John read the dosages and the cocktail of substances. It was impossible. Sherlock couldn’t have possibly gotten ahold of all of this. John couldn’t have gotten ahold of it. Beyond that, no human could survive this kind of mixture short of long term hospice patients.
"Oh. Yes. Several times in fact. Should be obvious I think. I did just scramble all your security cameras. I couldn't have cracked their frequency codes that quickly otherwise, now could I? Sorry. Pity that, about Fellows I mean. I was hoping to speak with him."
The food is delivered as Sherlock begins mumbling again. “ He's right, you know. So what if he's right?! He's always right, it's boring! Will you help me? Cherchez la femme. I always knew I could count on you, Lestrade. John has abandoned me, you know. Again.”
Detective Sargent Lestrade and Molly Hooper had managed to pull his brother into sobriety and some measure of responsibility. At the time, Mycroft was appreciative of any small favor on Sherlock's behalf. He'd run off to America at one point and Mycroft had washed his hands of the whole affair. He'd assumed his brother was dead by the time his influence had grown enough to have the power to track him down to some Florida backwater. He was returned to England, alive but addicted and his mind addled to such a degree that Mycroft was unsure if he would ever find more than a disappointing end.
Danger night protocol, grade-three surveillance, and even his willingness to be treated unbearably by his brother, rather than make any overt insistence that he behave, were all merely preemptive measures. Sherlock had proven repeatedly what his probable future would entail. The 'ice man' as he had of late been made aware was his most recent moniker, only hoped | <|output|> <|example|> control. The commander. And James was curious and more than a bit aroused. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> The will is read. John vomits at the huge estate. Mycroft offers to continue to manage the holdings, just like he always had for his brother. John shakes his head. " I don't want it. I don't want any of it." <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 | | <|output|> <|example|> ”
Detective Sargent Lestrade and Molly Hooper had managed to pull his brother into sobriety and some measure of responsibility <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> I couldn't have cracked their frequency codes that quickly otherwise, now could I? Sorry <|indexes|> 1 | |
<|text|> to prevent the inescapable for as long as possible.
John crosses his arms and takes a very deep calming breath, “Yeah, well, I’m not him, am I? And before you accuse me of groundless suspicion, don’t forget where I am. You keep very detailed files in here. Benefit of the doubt is harder to give when I see it exactly as you remember it.”
"I could teach you. I mean I am much more adept with the violin, but I am adequate at the piano," Sherlock volunteers.
We know she saved John, I decided to take that literally and I wanted to show that she reads people and improvises and that she did not manipulate John and that the sunny person we saw in the beginning really was there.
He looked up the stairs as he realised the squeaking hiss he was hearing was not unfamiliar. The doctor had heard it in the A&E many times.
"Because we spent most of the day on a goose chase. This was found at the location you described." Mycroft, slides a piece of paper forward.
John stared at the food and was thankful that he had not been required to explain the sequence of the day’s events. He ate mechanically and the food tasted like decadent sorrow. Nobody spoke of the empty places nor asked him to describe what he had seen. Mary kept meeting his eyes, her face filled with guilt and pity. Directly after dinner she handed him a tumbler half filled with whiskey and they watched the fire, casting yearning glances at the lonely violin tucked in the open case by the tree.
“I did. And she let me infer that she had spent a lot of time in Texas with distant relatives and that the border towns were brutal places filled with gun wielding birds that are absolutely mad about short British doctors. She does a bloody sexy Texas drawl. I didn’t want to look too closely because; I thought she was my last chance. I poured all I would never do for you, into her.”
John rubs Mary’s feet and ankles as she reclines in the overstuffed seats. They chat pleasantly only interrupted by an occasional moan from Sherlock.
"I was a bit of a disappointment too. Dad had told everyone I wanted to be a surgeon. He said working in the morgue was a creepy profession." She said taking a bite and chewing slowly.
“I can’t force myself to accept this. He should have just…I feel so horrible. I failed everyone, all because…” Mary didn’t finish the thought.
John Watson was dead to the world and he was currently sleeping in the same fashion. Rat studied his face as John snored hilariously. He wondered when the last time had been, that John had submitted to such a relaxed state and allowed his body to hover voluntarily near such peace.
Life was a day to day effort from within. He still missed him with more ache then he dared examine too deeply. In the moments that he was honest with himself, there was only a single answer. When you eliminate all the | <|output|> <|example|> to prevent the inescapable for as long as possible. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> He said working in the morgue was a creepy profession <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Benefit of the doubt is harder to give when I see it exactly as you remember it <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> He wondered when the last time had been, that John had submitted to such a relaxed state and allowed his body to hover voluntarily near such peace <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> We know she saved John, I decided to take that literally and I wanted to show that she reads people and improvises and that she did not manipulate John and that the sunny person we saw in the beginning really was there <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> " She said taking a bite and chewing slowly <|indexes|> 4 <|example|> You keep very detailed files in here <|indexes|> 5 5 | |
<|text|> impossible, only one answer remains. That answer was livid today.
She listed John's markers that should obviously prove that Greg's instinct didn't justify how he is acting. She had talked all the way to Molly's apartment in her low patient tone, assuming his silence meant she should continue. " John is just a basic everyday case, Detective.
“ You have demanded for years. So, why not? No reason to faff around about it. You want me? It’s nothing. Couldn’t respect a no.” John spread his arms in a belligerent come- and-get-me fashion.
These were the moments he knew. He played them in his mind, and yet, somehow standing here contemplating the finality of the concrete below, he realized what he'd missed all along. It wasn't possible. Sherlock would have never picked this. The possibility of survival was small, but Sherlock would never play a game he could lose so badly. Suicidal at times, yes. Hell putting himself in danger, on the edge was his greatest addiction, but putting himself into a situation of irrevocable damage and long term care, would never have done.
Sherlock put John to bed and kissed him softly on the lips. “I love you, John Watson. Come back to me. Have sweet dreams and tell me all about them in the morning. I believe in you.” Sherlock said this to John every night. Sometimes the corners of John’s lips would quirk up slightly. Sherlock lived for John’s almost smiles.
John ate his cake and grinned at Mycroft. He looked up at the skull on the mantle and sighed with pleasure. The skull smiled back at John and both knew exactly where they belonged.
She felt the delivery van move to his weight suddenly being absent and unexpectedly there is light all around. She looked around, confused and he was buttoning his trousers. He was smiling but it isn't the smile of a man who just had a shag. Sherlock looks at her as if he could kill her and anyone else who he felt like playing with. He had the same look of pure surety and truth as Jim carried in his eyes. The clarity of a serial killer, she'd heard Sherlock call it.
Sherlock, with help from Greg, moved Maeve into the original position so that she was sat comfortably in his arms, her head dry and hair still damp from the trickles that had fallen down.
“Oh Siger, do straighten your tie pin.” Violent scolded the rather dazed-looking man as she turned to greet some new arrivals.
Mycroft released a soft chuckle. Sherlock shot a brief look at him. “You hated your hair being washed.”
“Can you not go a minute without sticking your big nose in business that does not concern you?” Sherlock asked, raising both eyebrows and genuinely expecting an answer.
John looked up from the ground and his mouth parted. He stepped towards the consulting detective but the taller man closed the distance, rushing to the collection of cars and ambulance parked along the warehouse.
The only light in the room was that of the night light plugged in on the opposite side of the | <|output|> <|example|> impossible, only one answer remains. That answer was livid today. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Sherlock, with help from Greg, moved Maeve into the original position so that she was sat comfortably in his arms, her head dry and hair still damp from the trickles that had fallen down. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 | | <|output|> <|example|> ” Sherlock said this to John every night <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> She looked around, confused and he was buttoning his trousers <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> Sherlock lived for John’s almost smiles <|indexes|> 2 2 | |
<|text|> room, a small owl that glowed purple.
John picked it up and lent forward. Sherlock stuck one hand in the bowl, submerging his fingers in the ice for a few moment before pulling them out. He shook his hand slightly and then offered it to Maeve, pressing his forefinger against the seal of her lips. She hesitated but opened her mouth and he probed her gums, running the pad of his fingers over them. He announced after a few seconds. “There aren’t any teeth cutting through the gums.”
When John stepped into the living room after work he wasn't sure what to expect, Sherlock sat upside down on the sofa or doing an expedient with Maeve, he was used to all sorts living sigh the consulting detective but what he didn't expect was Molly Hooper to be sitting on sofa unloading a cardboard tray of Chinese food onto the coffee table, which was clean.
When he stopped in front of her, for inspection, she brushed the curl that fell over his forehead to the side with a smile and then took a step back to get a good look at as he put on his jacket. It was elegant much like his usual suits; raven black with a slight shimmer in the fabric that was understated and only visible in direct light. The trousers were narrowed-legged and the jacket; a simple two-button, slim cut that sat perfectly above his shirt. It was a pale pink, so pale that it merely looked slightly off white with dark purple buttons. The colour matched exactly the dress he’d got for Maeve that was currently hanging on the door of his wardrobe.
Sherlock rolled his eyes and glanced down at his daughter, a fond smile settling on his face at the sight of her chewing on her own fist. He shifted her into a more stable position, one arm supporting her, he used his free hand to carefully pry the now drenched fist from her mouth. She whined in protest.
Sherlock attempted to moved his head and look away but Mycroft tightening his grip and kept his head steady. He continued, “If you don’t focus you will lose her.”
“Yes,” Sherlock ran his hand down her back. She was wearing only a thin white bodysuit with no arms or legs.
The elder Holmes raised his eyebrows in a fashion that meant he wanted his younger brother to elaborate and then flicked his eyes to the infant on his shoulder, Sherlock noticed the look and followed it. Mycroft sighed, “you are now a father and in a committed relationship, if that isn’t involved...”
“It’s my pleasure,” Angelo said, bowing his head. He gestured to Sherlock. “This man got me off a murder charge. Cleared my name.”
“Never.” Sherlock articulated carefully, glancing at John before removing his jacket and placing it on the back of one of the chairs. He unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them to his elbows.
“Then how could one person subdue her, given that she put up quite a fight” he gestured to the room around them in disarray. “Nail her to the wall | <|output|> <|example|> room, a small owl that glowed purple. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> He unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them to his elbows <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> The trousers were narrowed-legged and the jacket; a simple two-button, slim cut that sat perfectly above his shirt <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> He shook his hand slightly and then offered it to Maeve, pressing his forefinger against the seal of her lips <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> Sherlock attempted to moved his head and look away but Mycroft tightening his grip and kept his head steady <|indexes|> 3 | |
<|text|> still alive and then cut her throat in the space of twelve minutes?”
“Murder.” Silvia exclaimed at the same moment that Harold repeated, face drained of colour. “Kidnapping.”
“Yes but I need to investigate the victim’s sister and I cannot do that with Maeve.” He sighed, it was hard to admit to himself.
“Can I hold her?” Mycroft nodded and stood up. He watched his brother take off his gloves and put them in his pocket, then pause, and look up at Mycroft through his lashes. He cleared his throat. Mycroft handed him his niece. Sherlock repositioned her slightly and stared down at the baby in his arms, after a few moments he looked up at Mycroft, making eye contact. “She is rather fetching.”
Sherlock returned a moment later. He was fully dressed, now wearing a shirt and matching jacket to his trousers, shoes and socks. He had Maeve’s clothes hooked over his arm as he placed the purple carseat and baby bag on the floor by the door. Greg offered the baby to him and Sherlock took her with one long arm, hooking it under her small body. He placed her on the sofa and went about dressing her in a small Calvin Klein outfit, it was pale pink with grey hearts. A pair of trousers and hooded jumper over a white long armed baby grow.
Sherlock had somehow shed his coat and scarf, now hanging on the back of the door with his daughter still fast asleep in his arms, completely undisturbed. John perched himself on the arm of the sofa. “So” He started conversationally. “Maeve, huh?”
An air hostess appeared in the aisle, she leaned over and asked, “Is everything ok sir? Do you need anything?”
“Will she be waking soon?” Mycroft asked as he took a seat in John’s armchair, crossing one leg over the other and looking up at the consulting detective.
“Tell him his boyfriend and daughter are here.” He suggested as he flashed her a smile. “It may speed up the process.”
“Hmm” Sherlock hummed and offered his finger to Maeve. The infant took it without question and held it in her own smaller fist and gurgled happily.
The consulting detective picked up the two bags he had prepared as he exited the room, the purple ‘baby bag’ and a larger black leather bag. He closed the door behind him and walked down the hallway, pausing at the table to place the bags upon it before moving into the living room. He dedicated his free arm to holding Maeve also, using one arm to support her bottom so that she was sitting on his forearm and his other hand across her small back. Maeve’s chin was resting on his shoulder and she was looking behind him, growling loudly so that her body vibrated against his.
Violet pulled back long enough to give her son a pointed look, one eyebrow raised, and then returned to her cleaning duties. Greg held up a bottle of water. Mycroft extended his arm and took it.
Mycroft raised his eyebrow in a look that spoke volumes of ‘I very much doubt that’ | <|output|> <|example|> still alive and then cut her throat in the space of twelve minutes?” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> ”
“Hmm” Sherlock hummed and offered his finger to Maeve <|indexes|> 0 | |
<|text|> and Sherlock rolled his eyes in response, he stepped through the obstacle created by his chair and handed Maeve to his brother. Mycroft took her with a practised ease that annoyed him and put her in the exact position she had been on Sherlock’s shoulder, she sniffed and grasped at the shoulder of his suit before settling down.
“The case?” The consulting detective pushed himself up with one hand to leave against the headboard, supressing a wince as his stitches pulled uncomfortably and he kept his gaze on Maeve.
“I suppose we should do this properly.” He announced. He reached into the cot, with more caution than he’d ever used before, and picked up his daughter for the first time. One hand beneath her head, cradling it gently and the other beneath her small body. He lifted her up and placed her close to his chest, cradling her in his arms. He watched intently, pursing his lips as his eyes scanned over her body, checking that she was unharmed and secure in his arms.
Greg turned to see John approaching with a freshly bathed Maeve, wearing a cute miniature version of one of Sherlock’s dressing gowns and hair damp against her pale skin. He found himself smiling at the baby, a smile which John knew all too well, he too was smiling fondly at the infant.
Violet frowned but nodded and the others left them, Sherlock, John and Maeve, on the side of the road.
Sherlock reached out, hesitantly. Large hands reaching round to cradle the baby’s head – he may not know much about children but he was well aware of how a baby could not support its own head, it was fragile – and the other hand reached beneath her to grab her body. She was small, almost fitting entirely in his hands with the padding of the blankets. She made a sound at being moved, barely audible. He pulled her to his chest. A envelope lay on the floor – wet from the cold ground, hidden under the baby’s body – Sherlock shifted the baby to rest on one arm, head on his elbow and body supported by the rest of his long arm. He picked up the envelope with her free arm.
Anthea was on the seat beside him glued to her phone as usual, brown eyes occasionally flicking up to look at her boss or someone enter the room. Gregory was sat opposite with Sally and Anderson, as a concerned family member and member of New Scotland Yard. He managed a comforting smile at his partner. John was stood at the door unable to sit or stop himself from fussing over Maeve in an attempt to keep himself busy.
John explained, “I know you don’t really celebrate Christmas and neither do I, not really, but you want this to be perfect for her. I’m not sure I can manage perfect but I think together, we can do well enough. So, what do you want to do? How are we going to kick off this day?”
“You went swimming?” John asked in disbelief, “You woke up, | <|output|> <|example|> and Sherlock rolled his eyes in response, he stepped through the obstacle created by his chair and handed Maeve to his brother. Mycroft took her with a practised ease that annoyed him and put her in the exact position she had been on Sherlock’s shoulder, she sniffed and grasped at the shoulder of his suit before settling down. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> One hand beneath her head, cradling it gently and the other beneath her small body <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 <|example|> A envelope lay on the floor – wet from the cold ground, hidden under the baby’s body – Sherlock shifted the baby to rest on one arm, head on his elbow and body supported by the rest of his long arm <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> He reached into the cot, with more caution than he’d ever used before, and picked up his daughter for the first time <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> He pulled her to his chest <|indexes|> 3 | |
<|text|> saw these newspapers and decided to take Maeve swimming.”
John’s head snapped up and he looked at the consulting detective with a mixture of amusement and surprise. “What?”
Sherlock handed Maeve to John the moment he stepped out of the pool. The blonde wrapped the infant in a towel and pulled her closed, bundled in the pale yellow material. She looked up at him and smiled, as if to say ‘look what we just did’. John smiled and kissed the top of her wet head. “Yes, I saw you, did you have a good time with your daddy?”
John put the bottle down and picked Maeve up, offering her to the consulting detective. Sherlock took her and pulled her against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder. He started rubbing her back in practiced circular motions. He titled his head and kissed behind her ear. “She’s hot.”
“If we can locate him, we will get her back without paying the ransom but,” he hesitated, “it’s riskier.”
Mycroft remained stoic and continued to smile at his niece, she gurgled but didn’t return his smile, instead focusing on shoving her hand into her mouth. He commented, “She is rather like you.”
Sherlock gave John a stern look, considering it for a moment before his expression softened and he shrugged his shoulders. He reached down to scoop up Maeve and placed her gently against his torso, careful that her open mouth was facing away from his suit and instead facing out, cheek against his shoulder.
Sherlock’s sad eyes scanned his brother’s face; it was unyielding, mouth set in a firm lie and eyes fixed on him with an intensity that spoke volumes. This was his brother. He fixed things.
Sherlock nodded and retrieved the presents that he’d been storing in the spare room. There was a sizable amount but he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad, it was his daughters first Christmas after all. They took some time arranging things and John retrieved some bags before they both took a step back and admired their work.
“It’s hardly my thought she prefers me.” The consulting detective told him. He took the seat in between his brother and John, immediately crossing one leg over the other and taking the coffee that Andrews place in front of him. He took a sip and grimaced, the strong Italian beans and toothpaste mixing to create a bitter acidic taste. That didn’t stop him drinking half before placing the cup on the side, pushing it to the side and then turning to look at John.
“Right,” he said once he was satisfied. He managed a smile. She blinked up at him, clearly fighting the urge to fall back to sleep as her face wrinkled in confusion, a new face, a new world, brighter than the one she had previously inhabited. “I’m your father, I suppose you’ll call me that, or dad but never daddy, I insist.”
The older man shifted the infant so that her legs were either side of his body and her hands were clutching at his shirt on his chest and back, her eyes wandering over her | <|output|> <|example|> saw these newspapers and decided to take Maeve swimming.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> “She’s hot <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 <|example|> She blinked up at him, clearly fighting the urge to fall back to sleep as her face wrinkled in confusion, a new face, a new world, brighter than the one she had previously inhabited <|indexes|> 1 1 1 <|example|> saw these newspapers and decided to take Maeve swimming <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> “What?”
Sherlock handed Maeve to John the moment he stepped out of the pool <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> She looked up at him and smiled, as if to say ‘look what we just did’ <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> saw these newspapers and decided to take Maeve swimming <|indexes|> 5 <|example|> ”
Sherlock gave John a stern look, considering it for a moment before his expression softened and he shrugged his shoulders <|indexes|> 6 6 | |
<|text|> uncle as though he were the most interesting thing she'd seen all day and he was. “Leaving us to it, then.” He said with a smile.
“And we would have complicated the situation.” His mother sounded sad. Mycroft opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off, “I know, it was never meant to hurt us. It’s true, we would have complicated the matter for you. Sentiment and all that.”
Maeve was cooing gently. Small sounds of content. She’d obviously been awake for a little while, as had Sherlock both were alert and communicating with one another. Not scrunching their faces of moaning like they did directly after waking up. “Are you hungry?” Sherlock asked her. “Daddy needs a shower, would you like a shower too?”
“I look forward to seeing it,” Mycroft said in a tone that might suggest, to one that did not know him quite so well, that he was incredibly bored but to the consulting detective and army doctor, was a tone of genuine curiosity and excitement.
Thank you for all your patience. My wifi is back but i am swamped with work, don't worry I'll find the time to update regularly, if I don't just remind me.
"So..." John said, he finished typing and looked up at Sherlock who was stood looming over him with his hand inside the pram, "lunch?"
“On call” Sherlock answered with a pout “a patient of his took a turn for the worst this morning, I am capable but he thought that I needed babysitting.”
“You?” John repeated. Sherlock’s eyes narrowed in confusion and the blonde continued. “Is Sherlock Holmes afraid of looking stupid with his daughter dressed in pink?”
“He hasn’t left the house since…well, since Mycroft dropped us off.” John answered and raised an eyebrow. “But you already knew that.”
“What things?” Sherlock asked. He twisted in one fluid movement, turning to face his brother. Maeve didn’t bat an eyelid this time, quickly adapting to her father’s habits.
“Yes, she’s still small though.” Mycroft chose his words carefully. She was much like Sherlock, a small baby.
“So it would seem.” He responded as he crouched down beside the blanket and ran a hand over Maeve’s delicate head. She looked up, blue eyes flicking to him and started kicking her legs in excitement.
Sherlock took a deep breath and placed his lips on Maeve’s head. The soft dark strands tickled his nose and mouth but he ignored the sensation in favour of keeping his lips there, in a lingering kiss. He pulled back enough to place his nose on her head and his lips, lingering at her temple. “I love you.”
Mycroft nodded and answered for his brother, while the young Holmes entertained himself with the soft strands of hair atop of his daughter’s head. “Sherlock’s partner is a doctor, then there is myself and Gregory, he is a Detective Inspector at New Scotland Yard, our parents see Maeve weekly and are always happy to lend a helping hand.”
Anthea took another step closer to the pram and hesitantly reached in. She pulled out the small infant and pulled her close. Maeve’s head lolled | <|output|> <|example|> uncle as though he were the most interesting thing she'd seen all day and he was. “Leaving us to it, then.” He said with a smile. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> “Daddy needs a shower, would you like a shower too?”
“I look forward to seeing it,” Mycroft said in a tone that might suggest, to one that did not know him quite so well, that he was incredibly bored but to the consulting detective and army doctor, was a tone of genuine curiosity and excitement <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> She pulled out the small infant and pulled her close <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 <|example|> ”
“You?” John repeated <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> ”
Mycroft nodded and answered for his brother, while the young Holmes entertained himself with the soft strands of hair atop of his daughter’s head <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> “Are you hungry?” Sherlock asked her <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> “Is Sherlock Holmes afraid of looking stupid with his daughter dressed in pink?”
“He hasn’t left the house since…well, since Mycroft dropped us off <|indexes|> 5 | |
<|text|> and Anthea made sure that she didn’t drop it but instead placed a tired head on her shoulder until she was awake enough to support it herself.
Sherlock gently pried her hand from his shoulder and looked up at his mother, stood in front of him, “I assumed that you would prefer her awake for the church ceremony, John has put her down in the nursery until I dress her and we leave.”
Sherlock came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. He dressed in silence while Mycroft dried Maeve off and put copious amounts of cream on her red flesh, put her in a new nappy and a sleepsuit. He wordlessly handed her over to his younger brother the moment he was done and retrieved the soft bristled brush from the counter. Sherlock took it and brushed his daughter’s hair, pushing the strands forward.
Sherlock snorted and handed over Maeve to the older man, he took her and positioned her to sit in his arms with her back pressed against his chest, gazing out at the world with wide eyes. He placed the bag and carseat on the floor beside Greg and lent down, placing a kiss on Maeve’s head before turning and heading towards the scene. Sally led him in and John followed them both dutifully.
The waitress returned with a smile, two small plates in her hands. She placed them on the table, Violet first, then Mycroft and looked up at him. “She’s too young for a high-chair right?”
“Are you up to this Sherlock?” Greg asked. It was vital that he knew the truth. Sherlock gave a slow sure nod of his head. Greg’s eyes widened slightly and then he frowned, “Are you sure?”
“I have a stand in in your office, he’s taking care things.” She told him. “Are you going to take her for a walk?”
Maeve gurgled slightly in response, blue eyes wide and focused on his face. Sherlock scooped her up and into his favourite position, resting on his chest with her head against his neck. She reached up automatically, her small hands resting against the exposed skin of his chest and mouth open against his neck. He sighed once before opening the door.
Louise Weatherly looked taken back by the statement and the blonde watched him with a critical gaze. Michelle corrected, “There are some matters of concern that have been brought to our attention.”
“No, the usual way John.” He said with a small smile. “They’ll be children running around and an obscene amount of food, I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself.”
They were all sat on the patio, spread out around the pool on normal and longue seats. His mother had brought out a jug of ice tea and the correct amount of cups, John and Greg had a beer each.
The consulting detective moved and acted with practised ease in every aspect of life, including with baby Maeve in toll, he was still capable of running around and weaving through the cIty. The inclusion of Maeve changed very little in terms for Sherlock, he'd adapted his routine to care | <|output|> <|example|> and Anthea made sure that she didn’t drop it but instead placed a tired head on her shoulder until she was awake enough to support it herself. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> Sherlock gave a slow sure nod of his head <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> The waitress returned with a smile, two small plates in her hands <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> The waitress returned with a smile, two small plates in her hands <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> ” He said with a small smile <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> ”
They were all sat on the patio, spread out around the pool on normal and longue seats <|indexes|> 4 <|example|> Michelle corrected, “There are some matters of concern that have been brought to our attention <|indexes|> 5 | |
<|text|> more about another person though having a child was the easiest thing in the world. Sherlock and Maeve were inseparable.
“He’s just thinking, don’t worry about him.” John said after a second, eyes flicking to Victor momentarily.
“And for the record,” John said, his lips still on Maeve’s head and words muffled slightly, “she knows that you love her and so do I.”
In a promising term of events, Maeve had been sick on the orange pumpkin baby grow that John had selected for the day leaving nothing but normal clothes for her to wear or else it would spoil the surprise of tomorrows outfit. Sherlock ran his hand down her clothed back. “I didn’t like that outfit either,” he whispered to her.
"Fabricated." John's blue eye flicked up to Sherlock, "your bother does 'occupy a minor position in the british government' he would have helped you."
“Right, well, I’m going to unpack. I’ll come with you to get the shopping and you can tell me all about your case over dinner. Tea?”
John poked his head into the room and smiled at the sight – Mycroft dressed in a smart three piece smoky grey suit, white shirt and charcoal tie, Sherlock dressed in his usual Spencer Hart suit; a grey suit that was so dark it was practically black, white shirt an no tie, the first two buttons undone. And the pièce de résistance was baby Maeve, dressed in a simple white lace dress that stopped just above her knees, with matching shoes and pants over her nappy.
“As much as I love talking about this,” Mycroft’s voice dripped with sarcasm, “there are more productive things I can be doing with my time and you with yours.”
“I’ve taken the liberty of having the room opposite yours transformed into a nursery” Anthea informed him, tone a hushed as not to disturbed Maeve. “The staff are preparing for your arrival.”
And ... what was the last thing???? Oh yes, I am planning a new fic that hopefully I'll be able to start soon. It's going to be about Mycroft and I'm super excited about it!!!!
Mycroft raised an eyebrow in surprise but said nothing in response. Sherlock had used the words ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ in the past minutes more times than he’d said them in a year.
“Your name is William.” Mycroft reminded him, raising his eyebrow. Sherlock shot him an ‘I know that’ look. “But I accept you point.”
“Just find whoever did this.” Howards told them, closing the door and leaving the trio in the hallway.
John snorted as Jade ran her nose and cheek over the infants foot and followed her leg up. She stopped and edged closer to the infants face. Maeve’s eyes widened in curiosity, having never seen an animal like this before, but she didn’t reach out. Jade climbed slightly higher and touched the baby’s nose with her own. Maeve’s nose wrinkled and she smiled in response. Satisfied, the cat rubbed her face against her cheek and meowed again, this time louder.
The government official tensed and reminded them. “Sherlock is a good person and I have no doubt | <|output|> <|example|> more about another person though having a child was the easiest thing in the world. Sherlock and Maeve were inseparable. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> ”
“Just find whoever did this <|indexes|> 0 | |
<|text|> that he is a good father, he will only get better as time progresses.”
Harold and Silvia were stood a few steps away on the pavement, they were staring up at the houses in amazement and disbelief. Silvia cleared her throat and asked, “Your parents live here?”
“I just didn’t expect you to be so eager to leave.” The auburn haired man admitted. It was rather curious considering his brother had barely let her out of his sight since discovering her.
“No,” he said a little too quickly, he clarified in a softer tone, “she needs to be with me, I will talk to my mother.”
John handed his empty whisky glass to Sherlock and took the wriggling baby. She was over-excited and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that she’d soon be overtired and a nightmare to put to bed. He walked away from the genii and back towards the small group at the bar. The men cheered at his return and immediately there were questions about the small, beautiful baby in his arms.
“If you can contain yourself -” Mycroft began in a hushed whisper. “- for the entire ceremony, I will allow you a free pass, so to speak.”
“We are working.” He resigned himself to failure, leaning further into his chair and crossing one leg over the other.
“Yes,” Sherlock answered somehow managing to keep his cool, his tone level. “If he used his hands, then there will be contusions across his hands and possible broken bones, this could help us to identify the man that kidnapped and for all intents and purposes, tortured your son.”
When he’d wrestled her into the white romper dress with a small pattern of gold clouds and stars, he settled her firmly on his lap and picked up the newspaper. “Current affairs?” he asked her, she looked up at him with a gummy smile, “gossip? What do you fancy?”
The blonde twisted his neck to get a better view at the awake but sleepy infant. “Did you grandad buy you a cat?”
Molly dropped the stack of file she was holding the moment she saw him. Sherlock sauntered in with his head held high; black curls bouncing with each step and skin glistening in the bright hospital lights. He was dressed as usual, wearing a designer suit with a deep red shirt, the first three buttons undone to reveal the pale column of his throat. His coat billowed behind him dramatically, undone and his scarf hung out of his pocket. That wasn’t the reason though.
“What?” The blonde turned to him. “You may not think you’re a hero and many people would agree with you but you do save the day quite a lot.”
“Oh dear. On the bright side, you got a pretty good run out of it? One of the nurses propositioned me, by the way, four times. Sponge baths were unbearable. Thanks for that,” He teased wiping her tears away with a clean spot on his dressing gown sleeve.
"I am going to beat my lover at his silly game, crush his tender little ego whilst proving he matters to | <|output|> <|example|> that he is a good father, he will only get better as time progresses.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> “Oh dear. On the bright side, you got a pretty good run out of it? One of the nurses propositioned me, by the way, four times. Sponge baths were unbearable. Thanks for that,” He teased wiping her tears away with a clean spot on his dressing gown sleeve. <|indexes|> 1 1 | | <|output|> <|example|> “Yes,” Sherlock answered somehow managing to keep his cool, his tone level <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> that he is a good father, he will only get better as time progresses <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> “No,” he said a little too quickly, he clarified in a softer tone, “she needs to be with me, I will talk to my mother <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> ”
When he’d wrestled her into the white romper dress with a small pattern of gold clouds and stars, he settled her firmly on his lap and picked up the newspaper <|indexes|> 3 3 | |
<|text|> me, save his life and probably never let him out of my sight again. In the meantime, you are going to keep your little beady eyes on all the fabulous toys you have amassed and call me at once when you spot him."
He introduced him to the strangest, most intriguing person he'd ever run across somewhere within the familiar bowels of St. Barts. This tall, blazing person had no boundaries, no rules and his superiority was forceful and had no safety. John was invited to look at a flat on the morrow. John almost thought it would be worth missing his own appointment to keep that one. He had no need to plan a future, but to just be near that something again, to have a chance to analyze it and figure out why he had none of that sort of majesty. He might stay for a bit.
John shakes his head and wets his lower lip and then gasps, "That? That is not respect. There is no way even you—"
John had even wondered on two occasions if Sherlock was about to kiss him. He wondered if he would stop him if he did. He noticed how many times they were working and Sherlock seemed determined to hover near John rather than snatch the item and maintain his distance. John knew he felt things he wasn't quite capable of admitting.
“Ahh, but there you are wrong. He had promised this power, tread on its eventuality. Wanted his accolades marked in history with awe and doom. He wanted to be a Hannibal, an Akhenaten, or even a Napolean and not a Corrigan or a Blondlot.”
He was proud of Mycroft for the most part, though his ability to maneuver had often hindered Rat’s own commitments. He had become rather disappointed that Mycroft had failed to make the necessary leaps of reasoning it would require for Rat to have his cover revealed. Mycroft was now in a position in which he had more than the necessary authority and clearances to welcome his dead father back into the world of the living. Too bad he had simply failed to give the matter his attention.
"And what is you intention in the long term? You plan to imprison us here and keep us separated for our own good? How do you think that will work out, Mycroft? You know me better than that."
John opened his eyes, to find Sherlock actually sobbing. He was beyond meltdown and into the range of uncontrollable ugly snotfest.
Sherlock looks up at him and shakes his head. "Married to my work. Marry the girl you threatened to kill, if she will still have you. I'll be leaving London alone."
“And the last thing you have to consider is that you have no idea how long that was planned, but you had no warning. He planned that you would be the last connection, the last thing he reached out to before darkness. John, of course he knew. He didn’t say the words, because he showed you instead. How have you spend all this time torturing yourself and not | <|output|> <|example|> me, save his life and probably never let him out of my sight again. In the meantime, you are going to keep your little beady eyes on all the fabulous toys you have amassed and call me at once when you spot him." <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> He wondered if he would stop him if he did <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Sherlock looks up at him and shakes his head <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> ”
He was proud of Mycroft for the most part, though his ability to maneuver had often hindered Rat’s own commitments <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> He had no need to plan a future, but to just be near that something again, to have a chance to analyze it and figure out why he had none of that sort of majesty <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> He had no need to plan a future, but to just be near that something again, to have a chance to analyze it and figure out why he had none of that sort of majesty <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> Barts <|indexes|> 5 5 | |
<|text|> figured out the part that is so beautiful. I know the time was not long enough, but something that deep and true, Oh love, a hundred years would not be enough. I have never found that. Most people don’t. Five hundred and thirty days is five hundred and thirty more than I ever got. If he wanted you to follow, he would have been able to coax you to go. He would, wouldn’t he?” She smiled as if she already knew the answer.
Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, letting his fingers follow the line of John’s spine. ‘I love you, John Watson, and you love me. Please. Believe me when I tell you I know that. I know what I am saying and I know what I am allowing. Invite him over, talk to him…’
It had been good. No, Sherlock rectified himself immediately when the thought sprung to mind. Not good. Amazing. Wonderful. Never would he have imagined that his life would – and could – turn out like it had. He was happy, nauseatingly so. But Sherlock didn’t care. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so at ease with himself and those around him and he wouldn’t change it. Not for anything.
‘If I die here, my body will be found in a building with your face projected on the front of it. Even Scotland Yard can get somewhere with that.’
John was practically shivering underneath their ministration, silently begging them both for more. He wouldn’t beg out loud. Yet. But he came damned close when James’ mouth engulfed his cock.
When the light had been of, he could have pretended not to see what was right in front of him. He could have pretended not to know that the glass rolling over the floor was an empty syringe. He might have convinced himself Sherlock was sluggish because he was devastated and exhausted. He wouldn’t have to see the paleness of the detective’s face, the angry looking mark on his outstretched arm, the hanging eyes and constricted pupils.
– and he could hear Mary’s trembling voice in the background but Sherlock was still talking to him. ‘…please, John, they’ll be here. Hold on, please, I’m begging you, don’t die…’
I have never been in a polyamorous relationship or situation. This is in no way, shape or form meant to insult, belittle or ridicule those of you who are.
Sherlock had seen it at the wedding. The love that had grown and withered unspoken between Sholto and John. It had been torn apart by circumstances and prejudices before they had time to figure things out. The regrets that followed after John had been shot and Sholto had been destroyed not long after. Sherlock had been jealous then. He had hated Sholto for throwing it away, for not fighting harder. But he understood now. Sometimes fighting for something isn’t enough and you end up destroying yourself in the process. Sometimes love wasn’t enough.
Sherlock tried to stay clear from John’s prostate as much as possible – he didn’t want this to be over soon – and it | <|output|> <|example|> figured out the part that is so beautiful. I know the time was not long enough, but something that deep and true, Oh love, a hundred years would not be enough. I have never found that. Most people don’t. Five hundred and thirty days is five hundred and thirty more than I ever got. If he wanted you to follow, he would have been able to coax you to go. He would, wouldn’t he?” She smiled as if she already knew the answer. <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, letting his fingers follow the line of John’s spine. ‘I love you, John Watson, and you love me. Please. Believe me when I tell you I know that. I know what I am saying and I know what I am allowing. Invite him over, talk to him…’ <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 | | <|output|> <|example|> This is in no way, shape or form meant to insult, belittle or ridicule those of you who are <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> He would, wouldn’t he?” She smiled as if she already knew the answer <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> Never would he have imagined that his life would – and could – turn out like it had <|indexes|> 2 | |
<|text|> didn’t take long before John started pressing back against his fingers. ‘Sher… God, James, fuck me.’
‘Don’t fucking remind me,’ John muttered and he wasn’t surprised feel that his mood had darkened. They had wasted years. Years! But James pulled him closer, nuzzling his neck.
John was next to him before Sherlock fell to the floor, buckling under the weight of his grief, and held him. They curled down onto the floor together, holding each other like a life line. John felt the warmth of Sherlock tears seep through his shirt when the younger man pressed his face against his shoulder as he continued babbling. ‘I’m sorry…so sorry, Myc. Please…’
The shape on his bed didn’t respond. He didn’t even seen to have noticed someone else was in the room and John could barely suppress his worry. All he wanted to do was reach out, talk to him, console him, just making sure he was physically alright, but he knew it would only drive him further away to the point where they would lose him completely.
He was longer than John, Sherlock noted, though the girth was roughly the same. His hand lingered, teasing the sensitive head through the material of the condom and James hissed in response. ‘Sherlock…’
‘Go to sleep John.’ Sherlock pressed a kiss against John’s shoulder and John hummed something unrecognisable in response. But he did.
‘No, shut up. I’ve seen it and I don’t mind John. I know you love me and I love you. So does he. And you still care for him too.’
John could practically hear the pout in his voice and a shaky chuckle escaped him. James pulled back from John’s lips and he looked over to Sherlock’s face in amusement. ‘You slept in.’
John couldn’t even care about Mary’s gasps and mutterings. She was crying, he could hear it, but Sherlock’s voice sounded absolutely wrecked. He was lying on the floor –
James said nothing though Sherlock could see the amusement in his eyes. He tried to picture them both, younger than they were now, just as impatient. Hiding themselves away from judging eyes, high on adrenaline and lust. Sherlock could see it clear as day in his mind’s eye, just as he could in the shapes and movements of the two men in front of him.
But his vision was darkening and he could hear Sherlock calling out to him, commanding him to wake up.
Sherlock leaned back and watched James’ cock disappear inside John. John rocked his hips a little, taking in more of James with each movement and it wasn’t long before James started moving his hips to meet them.
‘I meant that…’ Sherlock pondered about his words for a moment. He couldn’t barge in. John would clamp up, become defensive. Delicately; that was the way for this. ‘I’m curious.’
It wasn’t fair. He could see the understanding dawn in John’s eyes and he was crying and Sherlock wanted to scream. This wasn’t fair! ‘You’re not saying goodbye.’
John swallowed and rose his face so he could meet Sherlock’s curious gaze. ‘But it was dangerous. Not just getting caught but the risks of | <|output|> <|example|> didn’t take long before John started pressing back against his fingers. ‘Sher… God, James, fuck me.’ <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> He tried to picture them both, younger than they were now, just as impatient <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> I know you love me and I love you <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 <|example|> They had wasted years <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> I’ve seen it and I don’t mind John <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> Delicately; that was the way for this <|indexes|> 4 <|example|> This wasn’t fair! ‘You’re not saying goodbye <|indexes|> 5 | |
<|text|> being out there. He nearly got blown up once and I…’
‘I don’t care!’ he heard himself shouting. ‘If you love him even half as much as I do, then you’ll call him. NOW!’
Because John was with him. Back home, in Baker Street. Divorced, yes. A little older, a little more grey, but he was home. And even though John had been back for over a year, Sherlock couldn’t help but still feel elated at the sound of John typing on his laptop. It was strange how a thing so seemingly meaningless, could bear so much weight inside his heart.
Sherlock hears the frown and he sighs. He can’t back down now not without causing even more questions. John will know he has more to hide, he’ll get angry, he’ll leave and –
Sherlock’s broken plea was too much for John to bear and he pulled him closer to his chest. ‘I know Sherlock. I’ll help, I promise. Go to sleep, please. I’ll be here.’ John pressed a kiss against the dark curls and within minutes he felt Sherlock giving in to his body’s need to rest. ‘I’ll be here Sherlock,’ John murmured and now he could feel the tears that had threatened to break free all night slide down his cheeks. ‘Promise.’
He’s licking his lips. Sherlock can hear it. John is fidgeting in his seat, uncertain, thinking his words over. Oh for God’s sake, there is no need for his eyes when it comes to John’s worrying.
Good thing he and mrs Hudson had checked every single hiding place a week before. Sherlock had been tremendously bored due to a lack of interesting cases – at least, they had been incredibly dull to him. When Greg had appeared in front of their front door this morning and Sherlock accepted his case, everyone had breathed out a sigh of relief.
Sherlock steeled himself. This was it. ‘That I can share. If you… if you want. I want you happy, John and I know you’re happy with me but I can’t help but feel like there is something, some part of you that can only be happy with him. And I want to see that part. I want to know all of you.’
After Mycroft left for uni, the birthdays had never felt quite the same anymore and Sherlock’s enthusiasm lessened each passing years until it was his time to go to uni. By that time he had stopped celebrating completely.
‘Sort of,’ John admitted, still not looking at Sherlock. ‘It was… Christ, it was war. Sometimes you just got lonely, or the adrenaline got too much and it… with James it was easy. I guess. We liked each other from the start. He had a great sense of humour and was good for his men. It was… good, for a while.’
‘’No, John. I – ‘’ Sherlock swallows down the panic rising in his throat. He has no choice. ‘’There is something you should know before… My back is… when I was away, I was…’’
Automatically, John reached for his phone, thumb hovering over the first name of his speed dial | <|output|> <|example|> being out there. He nearly got blown up once and I…’ <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> This was it <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 <|example|> I want to know all of you <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> This was it <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> ‘Sort of,’ John admitted, still not looking at Sherlock <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> He has no choice <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> And I want to see that part <|indexes|> 5 5 <|example|> ‘Promise <|indexes|> 6 6 | |
<|text|> list in case of danger nights when John lost Sherlock out of his sight. He froze when the name registered in his mind. Damn it, damn this day, damn it all!
Oh, how Sherlock loved doing this. The flush of John’s skin, his moans and grunts. His reddened lips, still swollen and moist from when he sucked Sherlock to completion mere moments before Sherlock had pushed him to his back, slicked up his fingers, and pressed them inside.
James pulled back a little, regarding Sherlock with heavy lidded eyes and Sherlock stretched his neck for more without properly realising it.
John’s ears were still ringing from the cold tone of Mary’s voice when she raised the gun. He didn’t hear the gun firing. He did hear Sherlock’s voice –
John turned his head sharply at that, nearly bumping noses with James. He had never heard those words from James’ mouth and he had never said them to James either. He had felt them. Oh how he had felt them when James’ lips touched his for the first time. Or when James pressed him chest first against the wall. And the words had ached in his bones when an IED had very nearly taken James away from him. John had hid himself away from them, and from James, terrified of what might happen.
‘I meant, John, that we are stuck. Stuck as in, I am unable to open the door. Ergo, we are stuck inside the closet.’
John shakes his head, still sniggering and he mutters something under his breath that Sherlock can’t hear.
They bickered, they went on cases, they laughed until the tears rolled down their cheeks, they had take-away and saved each other. Over and over again in so many ways.
Sherlock could hear Mary’s gasps behind him and Sherlock would have killed her if he could. But John is dying, he is dying because of her and damn it all to Hell if he would let her get away with this.
Sherlock’s muscles feel heavy and he can feel John’s breathing slow down to match his own. John’s fingers have found his curls and he, very carefully, threads his fingers through them. Sherlock sighs deeply, nestling closer to his lover –
James licked his lips at the sight of John’s erection. As he moved forward with his lips parted, Sherlock hands slid up, making sure he hit every single of John’s most sensitive body parts along the way. His sides. His nipples. His collarbone.
Sherlock closed his eyes and for a moment he thought he could taste James on John’s skin. He gripped John’s hips, rubbing himself against John’s arse. A whimper escaped John’s lips and Sherlock groaned against his skin in response. They were both hard – Sherlock could see the bulge straining against John’s trousers when he opened his eyes and looked down.
and John didn’t even knew what words he was saying out loud, if he made any kind of sense at all, but Sherlock was crying now and John tried to tighten his hold.
This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening! This was a dream, a horrible nightmare. | <|output|> <|example|> list in case of danger nights when John lost Sherlock out of his sight. He froze when the name registered in his mind. Damn it, damn this day, damn it all! <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> ‘I meant, John, that we are stuck <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 <|example|> <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> He did hear Sherlock’s voice –
John turned his head sharply at that, nearly bumping noses with James <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> Ergo, we are stuck inside the closet <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> His nipples <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> Oh how he had felt them when James’ lips touched his for the first time <|indexes|> 5 <|example|> ’
John shakes his head, still sniggering and he mutters something under his breath that Sherlock can’t hear <|indexes|> 6 6 <|example|> He had never heard those words from James’ mouth and he had never said them to James either <|indexes|> 7 | |
<|text|> John felt sick. He wanted to scream, to grab Mary –
‘I want you there... if you – Jesus, I can’t believe we’re even discussing this – but I want you there with me. Us. If we – ’
but he couldn’t hear what he was saying to Mary on the phone. But whatever it was, Mary straightened her back –
The loss of the strength in John’s hand is sudden, too sudden and John is looking straight through him now, his lips still. ‘No…John. John, wake up! Don’t you dare!’
Greg’s voice caught in his throat before cursing again and he could hear him shouting orders to someone near him. ‘I don’t care, just do it! Find him, pull everything. Ask his bloody network. John?’
When John opened the door to the 221B living room, he was greeted with silence. The curtains were drawn, the lights were off and Sherlock’s bedroom door wide open. Sherlock had been home then but the flat was empty. He couldn’t have been home long – it had taken John only ten minutes to find another cab to Baker street – but the detective seemed to have made the most of the short time he had. Wherever John looked, books were overturned, some drawers were still hanging open and their chairs had been pushed from their usual position. Even the skull no longer sat on the mantel piece and had taken a residence in John’s chair.
John and James were kissing again, mouths more hungry, hands bolder in their exploration. Sherlock watched them, hands frozen on his buttons.
He can hear John’s soft chuckle as he sinks down on to the bed next to him and Sherlock flinches when the flannel makes contact with his sticky stomach. Sherlock tries to move away – for someone who keeps pestering him to sleep more, John seems determined to keep him awake even longer – but John cleans him despite his wiggling.
I have never been in a polyamorous relationship or situation. This is in no way, shape or form meant to insult, belittle or ridicule those of you who are.
John grabbed him, slamming their mouths together. Sherlock let go of James, scrambling to get a hold of John’s shoulders to keep them both upright, but John was moving, sinking down, and John’s sharp hiss interrupted their kiss along with James’ deep groan of pleasure.
The room was dark, undisturbed on first glance, but John could see a shape on his bed. Back against the headboard, legs curled up, head resting on his knees, one arm outstretched besides him. A lump threatened to close up his throat and John could hear his heart pound in his ears, but thank God, he thought to himself. Sherlock was home!
‘Sherlock?’ James’ deep gravelly voice interrupted Sherlock’s train of though and his gaze snapped to him. Oh. Him. They were waiting for him… But…
Sherlock had encouraged John to keep Sholto close. John obviously trusted him with what he was feeling – and Sherlock had ignored the stab of jealousy he had felt when Sholto called him. John had gone to him, someone | <|output|> <|example|> John felt sick. He wanted to scream, to grab Mary – <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> Ask his bloody network <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Us <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> ‘I don’t care, just do it! Find him, pull everything <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> ‘I don’t care, just do it! Find him, pull everything <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> The room was dark, undisturbed on first glance, but John could see a shape on his bed <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> Sherlock tries to move away – for someone who keeps pestering him to sleep more, John seems determined to keep him awake even longer – but John cleans him despite his wiggling <|indexes|> 5 <|example|> Sherlock had been home then but the flat was empty <|indexes|> 6 6 | |
<|text|> from years ago as opposed to him. Hadn’t John see that Sherlock would never ever turn his back on him? That he couldn’t say ‘no’ to him? He had killed for him, been willing to sacrifice it all for his happiness. But Sherlock had said nothing. Not at that time anyway.
Without releasing John’s hand, Sherlock moved closer, pressing himself against John’s back. James’ gaze moved from John to him now and Sherlock moved his head in a silent invitation before he lowered his head. He knew where James had kissed John before; he could see the trail of saliva behind his left ear. And when Sherlock’s lips touched that same of part him, John trembled in response.
‘Don’t,’ he whispered. ‘Sherlock and I… we talked before and after things went wrong with your wife. He doesn’t blame you. Never has. The man loves you, John.’ John nodded silently as James pressed a kiss behind his ear. ‘We both do.’
He remembers John’s surprise when Sherlock first curled up against him after their first time. Sherlock himself had even been more surprised to find he had managed to sleep through the night. Apparently John’s calming influence extended even to the bedroom.
Instead, he moved his hands until they found the buttons of John’s shirt. And he undid them. One by one.
‘Intriguing.’ John didn’t buy it. Of course he didn’t; he knew Sherlock better than that. To suggest a dinner date… Sherlock had to admit he might have handled this differently. ‘What on Earth do you mean by that?’
‘He needs to wash,’ John mumbled against James’ neck. He hadn’t even bothered to open his eyes. ‘He can’t relax otherwise.’
‘Not funny,’ he muttered weakly and John smiled. Sherlock felt the need to rush over, to kiss that audacious smile off his face, to replace the horrible memories of having John’s lips not responding against his own with something better. But he was still stuck in his wheelchair – his nurse had been completely unforgiving and unrelenting no matter how hard Sherlock tried to blackmail her – so he settled on placing his hand over John’s.
Greg sighed on the other end, sounding every bit as exhausted and desperate as John felt. ‘I’ll do that. Text me when you find him.’
John sighed deeply, hiding his face away against Sherlock’s chest and for a moment Sherlock feared that he had gone too far. That John would deny everything. That he had ruined the newly found contact between the two men. But John, as ever, surprised him.
James eyes flickered up to John’s scar for a moment and Sherlock could see something dark cross his face. Not now, Sherlock thought to himself, making sure John wouldn’t notice by sucking the skin behind his ear. This wasn’t the time.
And John… John was nervous. He rambled, desperate to fill up the silences that fell, keeping their glasses filled. Sherlock made a vague mental note to enhance John’s acting skills. But if James noticed, he didn’t comment on it.
It made Sherlock sick that the only time he could feel John’s lips with his own was when | <|output|> <|example|> from years ago as opposed to him. Hadn’t John see that Sherlock would never ever turn his back on him? That he couldn’t say ‘no’ to him? He had killed for him, been willing to sacrifice it all for his happiness. But Sherlock had said nothing. Not at that time anyway. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> from years ago as opposed to him <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> ‘We both do <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> This wasn’t the time <|indexes|> 2 2 | |
<|text|> he had been forcing his air into John’s struggling lungs.
The scream ripped from his throat as he rushed past the frozen figure of Mary, ignoring the pain in his own body.
But there was something else too. Something more reverent and patient. And when John shrugged off James’ shirt and helped him get it over his bad arm, Sherlock realised. They hadn’t seen each other like this before. Their last time had been from before John had been shot. This was as new to them as it was for him.
His chin lifts and he speaks in his superior purr of taunting snobbery, " You don't need to instruct me on justice, Molly. Justice is a roll of the dice at best. There is no justice. You and I, are guilty. Now roll your dice and I am off to roll mine. Farewell, Dr. Hooper." From his pocket he draws two small green dice and shakes them in his fist. "Seven come eleven." He rolled them and smirks. "Snake eyes. Now, I think we can say, we are done shooting the crap." He said with feigned disappointment.
Once the British Government had left the flat, Mary turned to John and asked, “He is a lot nicer than he pretends to be, you know. I think he’s definitely one of the good guys, don’t you?”
“No it doesn’t. Trust me on that one. Alone makes you an easy target. And, you just proved it will never protect you from yourself.” She had replied gently, tilting her head and making him look at her. “Everyone has someone. For goodness sake, everyone here adores you. Take your pick and talk to someone.”
Mycroft was indeed on the phone. His eyes were closed, his finger was trying to block out the sound of the alarm. He looked far less put together than normal and when Sherlock cleared his throat, the relief was evident. It was followed by a split second of fear as he realized Dr. Watson was also present, but he slammed the phone down and stood quickly. With two deep breaths he restored his equilibrium to his face and purred aloofly, "Gentlemen, I hope you enjoyed your little excursion. To what askew kindness, do I owe this unexpected social call? Isn't it nice that you interrupted your escape, to grace me with your cheery faces?"
When Sherlock calmed down, he chuckled and asked, "Exactly how much trouble are you in? With my brother?"
Mrs. Hudson took one look and went into action. "Poor thing. What have you got there? Oh, a cufflink, where on earth did you? I think you better sit down, dear, you look like you've seen a ghost." Mrs. Hudson relieves her of her treasures and guides her to the sofa. "You didn't, did you? See one? I heard you up stairs. I'll never rent the place if it has a haunting." Mrs. Hudson shakes her head in pity as her face screws up and she excuses herself, mumbling about the tea needing to be made.
"I say, Eloise, no need to worry dear, its Sherlock, not that bloody | <|output|> <|example|> he had been forcing his air into John’s struggling lungs. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> His chin lifts and he speaks in his superior purr of taunting snobbery, " You don't need to instruct me on justice, Molly. Justice is a roll of the dice at best. There is no justice. You and I, are guilty. Now roll your dice and I am off to roll mine. Farewell, Dr. Hooper." From his pocket he draws two small green dice and shakes them in his fist. "Seven come eleven." He rolled them and smirks. "Snake eyes. Now, I think we can say, we are done shooting the crap." He said with feigned disappointment. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 | | <|output|> <|example|> This was as new to them as it was for him <|indexes|> 0 | |
<|text|> Mycroft. Oh sorry, Ducks, but your older boy is six-pence short of a shilling. Say, did you scare the taxi, like I showed you as a lad?"
She rolled her eyes and looked even more depressed, as she said with a sigh, “Yeah, saved his life with that. Got you shot instead and so he wants to forgive me. The bastard.”
John’s attention was again riveted to the stage and Rat’s demeanor compared to Sherlock’s gave the impression that Rat was a radical teen rebel whose hair happened to be dyed grey whilst Sherlock was old, stodgy and full of himself.
He just needed a moment to rest his eyes and he leaned carefully against the wall, unaware he was gasping. Sherlock did not get up again.
Sherlock’s face was red and horrified. “Janine. Don’t. Please.” He said, voice hitching as he gripped her hand and squeezed it hard. His eyes pleaded with her to back down.
Of course he'd backed off the security detail, there were texts flying that night with indecision. John had met someone directly after Sherlock had left him. By the time Mycroft had set aside time to personally review the security tapes, his people's faces already were filled with disaster. First what took place in 221B would never be known because every camera in a five block radius suddenly stopped functioning.
Yes, he’d taken John to an undercover-op who played mild mannered animal doctor, but Rat knew the man was neither French nor a simple doctor of exotic creatures. He’d desperately placed John in the hands of the finest surgeon he’d ever met. John was good at trauma and field surgery in general, but this man’s code name was Resurrection La Gaule. (which equaled ‘resurrection erection’ in a tongue in cheek off-color spook humor.) His skill was no joke, and his neurosurgical trail of career miracles included a half dead Rat raised from certain permanent impairment, brain function intact.
He rolled left, retrieving his main weapon from under his shirt tail and used the torso of a dead bald man as cover.
"My elder son and his little toys. Jamming them. That should take care of it." He smiled and stepped inside.
“Are you saying three old dogs have impressed the pup?” Herbert Rainer asked puffing out his chest slightly.
"I'm going with you, Sherlock, and there isn't a damned thing you can do about it. I assure you. If you know anything …at all…about me. You know-" John banged the floor with his fist and sat up, glaring at Sherlock.
Sally wheezed, “And…that was where you decided to put them? These don’t belong in any kitchen…how do you live here? I mean where do you keep the tea…shoebox under the bed? Nothing is where it belongs… “ She was wound up now and seemed to have a list of things that needed announced to everyone’s amusement.
“We will stand on that bridge when the rain comes, John. It would be a good war, but it would break me to beat you.” She grinned genuinely.
"He put Angry Birds on it for me too," Rat went on as if John | <|output|> <|example|> Mycroft. Oh sorry, Ducks, but your older boy is six-pence short of a shilling. Say, did you scare the taxi, like I showed you as a lad?" <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> " He smiled and stepped inside <|indexes|> 0 | |
<|text|> hadn't spoken. " I like that game. I keep in touch with the boy on World of Warcraft. And you just discovered it, I have known of your interesting association for some time. Were you lovers, you and my son?" Rat asked the last part in the same bored tone he'd discussed Angry Birds.
" I couldn't give you anything, so I donated all the last good -bits to Molly. Forgive me, John. I know she belonged to you, but you did abandon her which allowed my prior claim to reinstate. That isn't the whole picture though." Sherlock takes several deep breaths as if he's having a small panic attack.
"He would have proved himself right before." Lestrade looks back toward the direction they came from and whistles. "This must be some kind of big missing link, John. I assume you are going to be following. You will have to be reasonably careful you know. If it is something too big for him, he wouldn't want you to…"
Mummy beamed with sly mirth. "That's my boy. I knew you'd be just fine. I told your brother that if your own death didn't stop you, why would poor John's?"
Greg swallowed hard and with a deep breath, said, "I wanted to be the one to tell you. We don't have a body… I mean, any remains, but that happens sometimes in these cases. People've got no idea how bad the current is. The Thames is never an easy rescue. Well, you know, you have had to examine enough of them. It looks placid but it's swift and cold. Happens all the time. Make a gesture, or fall in drunk. RNLI was dispatched. They were right there, but he never surfaced. Tower lifeboat station got the call, there were witnesses. Two of them were Mycroft's men. One happened to be trained in rescue swimming, he dove in right after. He had to be rescued, in fact."
The Rat shrugs, "I'm also an artful liar. Tell me, how did you become rather publicly associated with Sherlock Holmes? " he asked with a wink, a scathing twitch of his lips and pointed twist of his head.
He soon arrived at the back door of the stone house he'd played at as a child. The Wheatley's had long ago been quirky, but Mummy adored them. His shoes and the lower half of his trousers were soggy and the rest of him had attracted a battalion of gnats that were about to drive him insane.
Mycroft smiled. “I am surprised he told you of that. It was a long time ago. Uncle Rudy told it to me. I always liked Uncle Rudy. He was a lot like Sherlock, Mad as a bag of ferrets but all dashing glamor and inappropriate humor. I miss him.”
They whispered their evaluations and diagnoses, completely missing the truth. They put up with John's quiet dignified grief and they waited for time to relieve his obvious disinterest in the laughter he used to be part of. They invited him along to endless social events and took his polite deferments with grace. | <|output|> <|example|> hadn't spoken. " I like that game. I keep in touch with the boy on World of Warcraft. And you just discovered it, I have known of your interesting association for some time. Were you lovers, you and my son?" Rat asked the last part in the same bored tone he'd discussed Angry Birds. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> I keep in touch with the boy on World of Warcraft <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> I miss him <|indexes|> 1 1 1 <|example|> " I like that game <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> They invited him along to endless social events and took his polite deferments with grace <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> Uncle Rudy told it to me <|indexes|> 4 | |
<|text|> Some managed to get him cornered and speak frankly to him about how he must carry on, stiff upper lip, and other remarkably banal platitudes. John always maintained his good nature and his appreciation for their interest, but then he would walk away unperturbed, but unmoved.
Molly wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. "Are you sure you are safe? There have been a few females who did that sort of thing too. I could be wrong but I don't think you are. No, I didn't really decide just by your name. Your eyes. You have kind eyes."
He wore fine clothes, though he looked a bit rumpled and there was a tatter at his elbow. His hair was a mass of unkempt loose curls that stuck to his high forehead and obviously needed washed. His eyes open and he smiles at her. "Nobody else around, Dr. Hooper. So you will have to do."
The best to you either way you play. Don't cheat or the game ends early. Don't bother with my sister or the media. That is cheating. I know you will contact Mycroft, but I assure you, he won't be able to help you.
John was determined to wallow in his lonely tragic world. The friends began to forget to bother to ask him to their little gatherings. He'd been absent for some time and this finally became accepted as who he was. A friend can only do so much and eventually they gave up trying to make it better for him.
John stood there breathing deeply as his only display of his fury. He is silent. He blinks and shakes his head. John leaned over awkwardly. That won't work and he puts his hand on Sherlock's shoulder. He drops to one knee then brings the other down and kneels in front of Sherlock.
He was unwilling to bring up the subject. Sherlock had yet to make his own personal field of attraction a solid statement. John had tried to catch him looking lustfully at anything other than dead things, but had yet to see the expression demonstrated on Sherlock's face with any other human being. He sometimes thought maybe he saw it pointed his way, but it always vanished before he could be sure.
He hoped it would be a matter of time before Mycroft tracked him down. He was ready to end his adventure and in his deepest heart, thought it would be a grand thing if John found happiness within his own family. His little spy-girl had had her own adventures wind to the inevitable peaceful life of a long time widow. He’d contented himself that soon he too would be called to retire and he’d often imagined the reunion with his sons. He had also vividly imagined Rhino’s reaction to the discovery he’d revealed on the night he’d inadvertently caused such harm with his last minute suicide plan.
He couldn't help but dream of such things. He wasn't sure there would be another chance. Live or die, he knew who he wanted to spend his life with. Molly had been his choice only | <|output|> <|example|> Some managed to get him cornered and speak frankly to him about how he must carry on, stiff upper lip, and other remarkably banal platitudes. John always maintained his good nature and his appreciation for their interest, but then he would walk away unperturbed, but unmoved. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> He blinks and shakes his head <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> He’d contented himself that soon he too would be called to retire and he’d often imagined the reunion with his sons <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> His little spy-girl had had her own adventures wind to the inevitable peaceful life of a long time widow <|indexes|> 2 2 | |
<|text|> because the other choice had been taken away. He couldn't say he felt he was settling for second best, but without Sherlock, he'd allowed his dreams to morph into new more comfortably traditional places and his heart felt split. He could not be without Sherlock if allowed the option any time in the future, but he wasn't sure he wanted to be without Molly. He'd made this insane decision to go with Rat on the fly, without really weighing his options.
It's four in the morning when she pops awake. She didn't dream, probably thanks to the herbal soothers. Her mouth tastes bitter and she needs to use the lavatory. She stands and her phone is flashing that she has a text.
"I'm bandaged. Did you take me to a doctor then? Feels like torture. Guess that Jadda in Bagdad told the truth? I am officially burning in hell…no surprise who my reaper turns out to be," John says with a slight cough.
"We haven't met. You were working and I saw you. You work in the morgue and your boss is a git, and you let him push you around even though you are far smarter than he is. You're timid and like dead people because you don't have to socialize with them. You had the talent to be a surgeon, but not the confidence. Also, from your shoes I see you have migraines and must wear something that keeps your posture from having undue stress on your neck. They are special order, but you should change them more because you wear your left heel down faster than the rest of the shoe, could try tacking a nail head or two into the next new pair, will make them last longer and you'll suffer less for it if you can't afford a cobbler to attach a cleat. Doesn't cost that much, but you are frugal to a fault. Your skirt was your mother's and you wear it for sentimental reasons rather than fashion, which means you don't argue with her, could be she's amazing, but a daughter rebels against her mother's fashion choices unless…Oh, sorry for your loss. You have tiny burns on your hands, which means you worked in a chippy at some point, maybe to put yourself through University but more likely because you were too young to be doing it. They are old and there is growth on most of them, and you have only been out of Uni for three years tops, so this was a childhood job. Family business. Accent not from London, though you learned Received Pronunciation at some point, which means public school. Scholarship probably and you hated it, because you had never had time to interact with children your own age, probably stunted socially by the death of your mother, and the fact you took care of your father. It was just you and he against the wolves. Money was tight and you have never liked to spend it on yourself. Your father is quiet, so you are too, mix that with the teasing you received | <|output|> <|example|> because the other choice had been taken away. He couldn't say he felt he was settling for second best, but without Sherlock, he'd allowed his dreams to morph into new more comfortably traditional places and his heart felt split. He could not be without Sherlock if allowed the option any time in the future, but he wasn't sure he wanted to be without Molly. He'd made this insane decision to go with Rat on the fly, without really weighing his options. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> Also, from your shoes I see you have migraines and must wear something that keeps your posture from having undue stress on your neck <|indexes|> 0 0 | |
<|text|> during your what, two years at some horrid posh girls boarding school? Must have been brilliant for them to offer you a tuition free education. Your father was so proud, wasn't he, and then he became ill and you cut your dreams short in order to take care of him, thus you stand before me a Pathologist rather than a surgeon. How is he doing?"
John rolled his eyes and crossed the room. He placed a chaste kiss on his partner’s lips, then lowered himself down to kiss Maeve’s forehead, she was undisturbed by the action. Instead, she focused on her dinner.
John sighed and stood up, bringing Maeve with him with one arm wrapped across her torso. She hiccupped and glanced around in confusion, her cries stopped for a second. She looked up at John, eyes wet and face covered in tears, dribble and snot, then looked back down at the bath. She hiccupped and started sobbing.
John was fast asleep facing the Moses basket but somehow still on his side of the bed. Maeve was snoring gently from the Moses basket, a bottle was left on the drawers half empty, so she’d been fed recently. He shed his clothes, not bothering to put on any pyjamas and slipped into bed wearing only a pair of black boxers. John stirred slightly but didn’t wake, gluing himself to Sherlock’s side and throwing an arm across his chest. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, he’d need it no doubt Maeve would be hungry soon.
Sherlock reached out for his arm. “If you want to make it up to me, you can clean the next dirty nappy.”
The elder Holmes sibling looked immaculate in his suit. It was a simple but elegant piece that seemed black to the naked eye but once it was beneath the light shimmered a deep midnight blue. The collar, by contrast, was made of a black matte material and his bow tie was a dark patterned blue that matched the handkerchief in his pocket. It was an exquisite piece. Sherlock really couldn’t fault the execution of the outfit.
“For goodness sake!” Sherlock muttered more to himself than anyone else. John went to get up but Sherlock held up a hand and stated, “Its fine.”
John stepped into the flat after a particularly long and tiring shift at the surgery. He paused in the doorway and watched the cat stop mid-lick, stare at him, then go back to licking herself. He sighed and went into the kitchen, flicked the kettle on and found the cleanest looking mug on the draining board.
The consulting detective gestured to the painting that the victim’s eyes were fixed upon and began, “Look, her eyes are telling you everything. She was working late for a reason but not painting, look at her arms, there are no splatters, so why was she working late? She was killed here in the gallery, there was a reason that she picked here, who was she meeting?”
Mrs. Hudson presided over the gathering like a dignified pelican fussing over fish. She was as strong as her | <|output|> <|example|> during your what, two years at some horrid posh girls boarding school? Must have been brilliant for them to offer you a tuition free education. Your father was so proud, wasn't he, and then he became ill and you cut your dreams short in order to take care of him, thus you stand before me a Pathologist rather than a surgeon. How is he doing?" <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> John rolled his eyes and crossed the room. He placed a chaste kiss on his partner’s lips, then lowered himself down to kiss Maeve’s forehead, she was undisturbed by the action. Instead, she focused on her dinner. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|indexes|> 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> John was fast asleep facing the Moses basket but somehow still on his side of the bed <|indexes|> 0 | |
<|text|> brew and she might sigh and look toward the ceiling as if waiting to hear footsteps from time to time, but she never faltered under the watchful eye of Isabelle Turner. She never batted an eye at the way her friends discussed her trouble with renters. They all gave the impression of being a bit mad with the way they jumped from subject to subject and seemed to make comments that sounded a bit rude, but not one of them appeared bothered by what the others said. Molly sat quietly, listening and trying to read it all as the older women expressed their condolences in one breath and criticism in the next. | <|output|> <|example|> brew and she might sigh and look toward the ceiling as if waiting to hear footsteps from time to time, but she never faltered under the watchful eye of Isabelle Turner. She never batted an eye at the way her friends discussed her trouble with renters. They all gave the impression of being a bit mad with the way they jumped from subject to subject and seemed to make comments that sounded a bit rude, but not one of them appeared bothered by what the others said. Molly sat quietly, listening and trying to read it all as the older women expressed their condolences in one breath and criticism in the next. <|indexes|> 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> brew and she might sigh and look toward the ceiling as if waiting to hear footsteps from time to time, but she never faltered under the watchful eye of Isabelle Turner <|indexes|> 0 | |
<|text|> <|example|> “Ten hours, thirty-six minutes.” Sherlock glanced at his watch and followed the grey haired man down the corridor towards the morgue. He held Maeve close to his body and stood outside of the door when Greg walked in to inform Molly of their arrival. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> his eyes off of Maeve. “What do you think?” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> was continuing in burping her, rubbing her back with a protective muslin over his clothes. She looked happier now that she’d been sick. “Poor baby,” John cooed. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> over his shoulder at the consulting detective. The whole room was covered with bags and boxes from mothercare, their delivery from earlier. The place was clean in his absence and things packed away neatly. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> and pausing for a moment with her just resting in his arms, still sound asleep. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> be too dressed up with a new-born baby in the house. He was bound to get messy at some point. <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> "I… have never been so angry with him. He threatened you, to draw me out. It was so much like standing on that roof, with no choice. I told him he wasn't necessary to me. I told him he was a fool to leave you when I could never love him like you do." <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 | <|example|> had allowed herself to be consumed beyond reason or thought. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> a swollen gasping creature wearing Sherlock's hair and a suit bedazzled with stingers and alive with bees still struggling with the dismount. It was something out of a horror movie and just as he thought this, a sodden bee crawled out of Sherlock's mouth. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> “I hate you both.” Sherlock said, climbing to his knees at the side of the bed. He looked up at his partner and daughter between his lashes. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|example|> ‘What was it, Sherlock?’ He hadn’t meant to sound so angry – God knows if he ever had to think of something that could cause Sherlock to fall back, it would have been this – but seeing him like this was almost too much for him. <|indexes|> 2 2 2 | <|example|> control. The commander. And James was curious and more than a bit aroused. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> The will is read. John vomits at the huge estate. Mycroft offers to continue to manage the holdings, just like he always had for his brother. John shakes his head. " I don't want it. I don't want any of it." <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 | <|example|> to prevent the inescapable for as long as possible. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> “Ten hours, thirty-six minutes.” Sherlock glanced at his watch and followed the grey haired man down the corridor towards the morgue. He held Maeve close to his body and stood outside of the door when Greg walked in to inform Molly of their arrival. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> "I… have never been so angry with him. He threatened you, to draw me out. It was so much like standing on that roof, with no choice. I told him he wasn't necessary to me. I told him he was a fool to leave you when I could never love him like you do." <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> ‘What was it, Sherlock?’ He hadn’t meant to sound so angry – God knows if he ever had to think of something that could cause Sherlock to fall back, it would have been this – but seeing him like this was almost too much for him. <|indexes|> 2 2 2 2 2 2 <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 | | <|output|> <|example|> ” Sherlock said, climbing to his knees at the side of the bed <|indexes|> 0 | |
<|text|> <|example|> over his shoulder at the consulting detective. The whole room was covered with bags and boxes from mothercare, their delivery from earlier. The place was clean in his absence and things packed away neatly. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> and pausing for a moment with her just resting in his arms, still sound asleep. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> be too dressed up with a new-born baby in the house. He was bound to get messy at some point. <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> "I… have never been so angry with him. He threatened you, to draw me out. It was so much like standing on that roof, with no choice. I told him he wasn't necessary to me. I told him he was a fool to leave you when I could never love him like you do." <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 | <|example|> had allowed herself to be consumed beyond reason or thought. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> a swollen gasping creature wearing Sherlock's hair and a suit bedazzled with stingers and alive with bees still struggling with the dismount. It was something out of a horror movie and just as he thought this, a sodden bee crawled out of Sherlock's mouth. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> “I hate you both.” Sherlock said, climbing to his knees at the side of the bed. He looked up at his partner and daughter between his lashes. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|example|> ‘What was it, Sherlock?’ He hadn’t meant to sound so angry – God knows if he ever had to think of something that could cause Sherlock to fall back, it would have been this – but seeing him like this was almost too much for him. <|indexes|> 2 2 2 | <|example|> control. The commander. And James was curious and more than a bit aroused. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> The will is read. John vomits at the huge estate. Mycroft offers to continue to manage the holdings, just like he always had for his brother. John shakes his head. " I don't want it. I don't want any of it." <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 | <|example|> to prevent the inescapable for as long as possible. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> impossible, only one answer remains. That answer was livid today. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Sherlock, with help from Greg, moved Maeve into the original position so that she was sat comfortably in his arms, her head dry and hair still damp from the trickles that had fallen down. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 | <|example|> room, a small owl that glowed purple. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> still alive and then cut her throat in the space of twelve minutes?” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> over his shoulder at the consulting detective. The whole room was covered with bags and boxes from mothercare, their delivery from earlier. The place was clean in his absence and things packed away neatly. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> "I… have never been so angry with him. He threatened you, to draw me out. It was so much like standing on that roof, with no choice. I told him he wasn't necessary to me. I told him he was a fool to leave you when I could never love him like you do." <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> ‘What was it, Sherlock?’ He hadn’t meant to sound so angry – God knows if he ever had to think of something that could cause Sherlock to fall back, it would have been this – but seeing him like this was almost too much for him. <|indexes|> 2 2 2 2 2 2 <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|example|> ‘What was it, Sherlock?’ He hadn’t meant to sound so angry – God knows if he ever had to think of something that could cause Sherlock to fall back, it would have been this – but seeing him like this was almost too much for him <|indexes|> 0 | |
<|text|> <|example|> had allowed herself to be consumed beyond reason or thought. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> a swollen gasping creature wearing Sherlock's hair and a suit bedazzled with stingers and alive with bees still struggling with the dismount. It was something out of a horror movie and just as he thought this, a sodden bee crawled out of Sherlock's mouth. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> “I hate you both.” Sherlock said, climbing to his knees at the side of the bed. He looked up at his partner and daughter between his lashes. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|example|> ‘What was it, Sherlock?’ He hadn’t meant to sound so angry – God knows if he ever had to think of something that could cause Sherlock to fall back, it would have been this – but seeing him like this was almost too much for him. <|indexes|> 2 2 2 | <|example|> control. The commander. And James was curious and more than a bit aroused. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> The will is read. John vomits at the huge estate. Mycroft offers to continue to manage the holdings, just like he always had for his brother. John shakes his head. " I don't want it. I don't want any of it." <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 | <|example|> to prevent the inescapable for as long as possible. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> impossible, only one answer remains. That answer was livid today. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Sherlock, with help from Greg, moved Maeve into the original position so that she was sat comfortably in his arms, her head dry and hair still damp from the trickles that had fallen down. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 | <|example|> room, a small owl that glowed purple. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> still alive and then cut her throat in the space of twelve minutes?” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> and Sherlock rolled his eyes in response, he stepped through the obstacle created by his chair and handed Maeve to his brother. Mycroft took her with a practised ease that annoyed him and put her in the exact position she had been on Sherlock’s shoulder, she sniffed and grasped at the shoulder of his suit before settling down. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> had allowed herself to be consumed beyond reason or thought. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> “I hate you both.” Sherlock said, climbing to his knees at the side of the bed. He looked up at his partner and daughter between his lashes. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|example|> ‘What was it, Sherlock?’ He hadn’t meant to sound so angry – God knows if he ever had to think of something that could cause Sherlock to fall back, it would have been this – but seeing him like this was almost too much for him. <|indexes|> 2 2 2 2 2 2 <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 | | <|output|> <|example|> <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> impossible, only one answer remains <|indexes|> 0 0 | |
<|text|> <|example|> to prevent the inescapable for as long as possible. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> impossible, only one answer remains. That answer was livid today. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Sherlock, with help from Greg, moved Maeve into the original position so that she was sat comfortably in his arms, her head dry and hair still damp from the trickles that had fallen down. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 | <|example|> room, a small owl that glowed purple. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> still alive and then cut her throat in the space of twelve minutes?” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> and Sherlock rolled his eyes in response, he stepped through the obstacle created by his chair and handed Maeve to his brother. Mycroft took her with a practised ease that annoyed him and put her in the exact position she had been on Sherlock’s shoulder, she sniffed and grasped at the shoulder of his suit before settling down. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> saw these newspapers and decided to take Maeve swimming.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> uncle as though he were the most interesting thing she'd seen all day and he was. “Leaving us to it, then.” He said with a smile. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> to prevent the inescapable for as long as possible. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Sherlock, with help from Greg, moved Maeve into the original position so that she was sat comfortably in his arms, her head dry and hair still damp from the trickles that had fallen down. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 | | <|output|> <|example|> <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> still alive and then cut her throat in the space of twelve minutes?” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> and Sherlock rolled his eyes in response, he stepped through the obstacle created by his chair and handed Maeve to his brother <|indexes|> 0 | |
<|text|> <|example|> still alive and then cut her throat in the space of twelve minutes?” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> and Sherlock rolled his eyes in response, he stepped through the obstacle created by his chair and handed Maeve to his brother. Mycroft took her with a practised ease that annoyed him and put her in the exact position she had been on Sherlock’s shoulder, she sniffed and grasped at the shoulder of his suit before settling down. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> saw these newspapers and decided to take Maeve swimming.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> uncle as though he were the most interesting thing she'd seen all day and he was. “Leaving us to it, then.” He said with a smile. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> and Anthea made sure that she didn’t drop it but instead placed a tired head on her shoulder until she was awake enough to support it herself. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> more about another person though having a child was the easiest thing in the world. Sherlock and Maeve were inseparable. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> that he is a good father, he will only get better as time progresses.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> “Oh dear. On the bright side, you got a pretty good run out of it? One of the nurses propositioned me, by the way, four times. Sponge baths were unbearable. Thanks for that,” He teased wiping her tears away with a clean spot on his dressing gown sleeve. <|indexes|> 1 1 | <|example|> me, save his life and probably never let him out of my sight again. In the meantime, you are going to keep your little beady eyes on all the fabulous toys you have amassed and call me at once when you spot him." <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> figured out the part that is so beautiful. I know the time was not long enough, but something that deep and true, Oh love, a hundred years would not be enough. I have never found that. Most people don’t. Five hundred and thirty days is five hundred and thirty more than I ever got. If he wanted you to follow, he would have been able to coax you to go. He would, wouldn’t he?” She smiled as if she already knew the answer. <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, letting his fingers follow the line of John’s spine. ‘I love you, John Watson, and you love me. Please. Believe me when I tell you I know that. I know what I am saying and I know what I am allowing. Invite him over, talk to him…’ <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 | | <|output|> <|example|> still alive and then cut her throat in the space of twelve minutes?” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> “Oh dear. On the bright side, you got a pretty good run out of it? One of the nurses propositioned me, by the way, four times. Sponge baths were unbearable. Thanks for that,” He teased wiping her tears away with a clean spot on his dressing gown sleeve. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|example|> Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, letting his fingers follow the line of John’s spine. ‘I love you, John Watson, and you love me. Please. Believe me when I tell you I know that. I know what I am saying and I know what I am allowing. Invite him over, talk to him…’ <|indexes|> 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 | | <|output|> <|example|> Please <|indexes|> 0 0 | |
<|text|> <|example|> uncle as though he were the most interesting thing she'd seen all day and he was. “Leaving us to it, then.” He said with a smile. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> and Anthea made sure that she didn’t drop it but instead placed a tired head on her shoulder until she was awake enough to support it herself. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> more about another person though having a child was the easiest thing in the world. Sherlock and Maeve were inseparable. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> that he is a good father, he will only get better as time progresses.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> “Oh dear. On the bright side, you got a pretty good run out of it? One of the nurses propositioned me, by the way, four times. Sponge baths were unbearable. Thanks for that,” He teased wiping her tears away with a clean spot on his dressing gown sleeve. <|indexes|> 1 1 | <|example|> me, save his life and probably never let him out of my sight again. In the meantime, you are going to keep your little beady eyes on all the fabulous toys you have amassed and call me at once when you spot him." <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> uncle as though he were the most interesting thing she'd seen all day and he was. “Leaving us to it, then.” He said with a smile. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> “Oh dear. On the bright side, you got a pretty good run out of it? One of the nurses propositioned me, by the way, four times. Sponge baths were unbearable. Thanks for that,” He teased wiping her tears away with a clean spot on his dressing gown sleeve. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 | | <|output|> <|example|> In the meantime, you are going to keep your little beady eyes on all the fabulous toys you have amassed and call me at once when you spot him <|indexes|> 0 | |
<|text|> <|example|> that he is a good father, he will only get better as time progresses.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> “Oh dear. On the bright side, you got a pretty good run out of it? One of the nurses propositioned me, by the way, four times. Sponge baths were unbearable. Thanks for that,” He teased wiping her tears away with a clean spot on his dressing gown sleeve. <|indexes|> 1 1 | <|example|> me, save his life and probably never let him out of my sight again. In the meantime, you are going to keep your little beady eyes on all the fabulous toys you have amassed and call me at once when you spot him." <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> figured out the part that is so beautiful. I know the time was not long enough, but something that deep and true, Oh love, a hundred years would not be enough. I have never found that. Most people don’t. Five hundred and thirty days is five hundred and thirty more than I ever got. If he wanted you to follow, he would have been able to coax you to go. He would, wouldn’t he?” She smiled as if she already knew the answer. <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, letting his fingers follow the line of John’s spine. ‘I love you, John Watson, and you love me. Please. Believe me when I tell you I know that. I know what I am saying and I know what I am allowing. Invite him over, talk to him…’ <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 | <|example|> didn’t take long before John started pressing back against his fingers. ‘Sher… God, James, fuck me.’ <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> being out there. He nearly got blown up once and I…’ <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> list in case of danger nights when John lost Sherlock out of his sight. He froze when the name registered in his mind. Damn it, damn this day, damn it all! <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> John felt sick. He wanted to scream, to grab Mary – <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> that he is a good father, he will only get better as time progresses.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> “Oh dear. On the bright side, you got a pretty good run out of it? One of the nurses propositioned me, by the way, four times. Sponge baths were unbearable. Thanks for that,” He teased wiping her tears away with a clean spot on his dressing gown sleeve. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|example|> Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, letting his fingers follow the line of John’s spine. ‘I love you, John Watson, and you love me. Please. Believe me when I tell you I know that. I know what I am saying and I know what I am allowing. Invite him over, talk to him…’ <|indexes|> 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 | | <|output|> <|example|> He would, wouldn’t he?” She smiled as if she already knew the answer <|indexes|> 0 0 | |
<|text|> <|example|> didn’t take long before John started pressing back against his fingers. ‘Sher… God, James, fuck me.’ <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> being out there. He nearly got blown up once and I…’ <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> list in case of danger nights when John lost Sherlock out of his sight. He froze when the name registered in his mind. Damn it, damn this day, damn it all! <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> John felt sick. He wanted to scream, to grab Mary – <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> from years ago as opposed to him. Hadn’t John see that Sherlock would never ever turn his back on him? That he couldn’t say ‘no’ to him? He had killed for him, been willing to sacrifice it all for his happiness. But Sherlock had said nothing. Not at that time anyway. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> he had been forcing his air into John’s struggling lungs. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> His chin lifts and he speaks in his superior purr of taunting snobbery, " You don't need to instruct me on justice, Molly. Justice is a roll of the dice at best. There is no justice. You and I, are guilty. Now roll your dice and I am off to roll mine. Farewell, Dr. Hooper." From his pocket he draws two small green dice and shakes them in his fist. "Seven come eleven." He rolled them and smirks. "Snake eyes. Now, I think we can say, we are done shooting the crap." He said with feigned disappointment. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 | <|example|> Mycroft. Oh sorry, Ducks, but your older boy is six-pence short of a shilling. Say, did you scare the taxi, like I showed you as a lad?" <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> hadn't spoken. " I like that game. I keep in touch with the boy on World of Warcraft. And you just discovered it, I have known of your interesting association for some time. Were you lovers, you and my son?" Rat asked the last part in the same bored tone he'd discussed Angry Birds. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> didn’t take long before John started pressing back against his fingers. ‘Sher… God, James, fuck me.’ <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> His chin lifts and he speaks in his superior purr of taunting snobbery, " You don't need to instruct me on justice, Molly. Justice is a roll of the dice at best. There is no justice. You and I, are guilty. Now roll your dice and I am off to roll mine. Farewell, Dr. Hooper." From his pocket he draws two small green dice and shakes them in his fist. "Seven come eleven." He rolled them and smirks. "Snake eyes. Now, I think we can say, we are done shooting the crap." He said with feigned disappointment. <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 | | <|output|> <|example|> <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> he had been forcing his air into John’s struggling lungs <|indexes|> 0 0 | |
<|text|> For a second, Steve stared at the phone in his hand, wondering stupidly if he’d managed to pick it up after all. Then the source of the voice registered, and…of course. Tony Stark wouldn’t let himself get snuck up on that easily.
Steve stole a deep breath from the air, filling his lungs with the scent of roasted coffee, and freshly baked bread. Sweat from passing joggers and a night spent partying, the lingering odour of alcohol, the pungent, chemical cloud of deodorant. Sun streaked bright across his cheek as he slowed at the intersection, waiting for the traffic lights. There was a girl waiting beside him, snapping gum from stark black lips; wearing a top that was tied around her neck by two flimsy strings, entirely backless. It was red.
“I don’t live with common men and women. I was brought to life among heroes.” Vision’s voice didn’t sound particularly proud. It didn’t sound much like anything. “They don’t shun responsibility for the world around them, for the calamities that happen in it. They don’t push blame on others, or on the uncontrollable vagaries of fate. No, they invite blame. They yearn to save, and despise themselves when their hands aren’t long enough to reach everybody.”
He was still in his uniform, that much he could register. A uniform stiffened with blood that was still keeping his cracked ribs in place. The bed under him was hard, but not very cold. The room was brightening as the seconds passed, features growing clearer with every blink and his head a little less foggy.
(even if there was almost no doubt about what was waiting for him at the other end, a nightmarish landscape of snow, metal, blood and betrayal).
Another pause. Rhodey didn’t used to have these many pauses in his speech either. You couldn’t, not if you still wanted to be heard in a conversation with Tony Stark as a best friend.
T’Challa paused, the black eyes surveying and scrutinising Steve to his very soul, it felt like. “Of a kind. I’m actually heading out to meet the very topic of our just concluded conversation.”
Eventually he raised his head- because that’s what he always did. The world swam in a palette of water-colours: washed out grey and dirty white, black snaking along the ground- gleaming dark red where it caught the light. He rested a gauntleted hand against the floor and pushed- whoa, whoa, whoa. The world
“Alright then, Cap.” And there it was, that nickname again. It was almost mindboggling to see the number of places and times it popped up when Steve actually paid mind to it. But Clint was the focus here- his plain, non-nonsense, outright
“Shh, shh.” There was a presence at his side, a broad palm pressing at the back of his neck. He could feel cool clay at his lips, water attempting to seep through. The…glass? pot? …tilted against his mouth further, and he tried to gulp the liquid down, throat working uselessly. Some of it ran into his parched mouth, the rest down his chin, puddling in his neck. His entire torso | <|output|> <|example|> For a second, Steve stared at the phone in his hand, wondering stupidly if he’d managed to pick it up after all. Then the source of the voice registered, and…of course. Tony Stark wouldn’t let himself get snuck up on that easily. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> ”
Eventually he raised his head- because that’s what he always did <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> He rested a gauntleted hand against the floor and pushed- whoa, whoa, whoa <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> It was almost mindboggling to see the number of places and times it popped up when Steve actually paid mind to it <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> T’Challa paused, the black eyes surveying and scrutinising Steve to his very soul, it felt like <|indexes|> 3 | |
<|text|> was aching. Information was seeping through in increments.
Steve had left the shield. He’d given Tony the Avengers. That’s what he’d written in the letter. Hadn’t he? Hadn’t he?
And that was what he received, at least in the beginning. The screen sparked to life- Steve’s eyes immediately searched for Bucky, and found him lying prone on the floor with the smoking hole in the place of an arm. That was…that wasn’t
“I took the liberty of pre-empting heat or cooling issues-we should be facing no icing problems.” FRIDAY almost sounded excited. “I’d advise you to run simulations first, but JARVIS’ recordings indicate that you’ve never been more exhilarated than while blindly test driving a new suit, regardless of how indecorous he might have found your whoops-”
She fixed her eyes on him, steady and unwavering- the same eyes that had fixated on his the day they’d decided to…..step back a little. He wondered what she thought, what her reaction had been- on knowing that the people that he’d inadvertently chosen over her had left anyway.
,” and his mouth twisted further in incredulous contempt- “rather than knowing that any bit of paper isn’t worth throwing his teammates in
That….that was. It took several seconds for his genius brain to compute, for his body to stop freaking out that it was breathlessness, his chest drawing tight- in a good way.
Thank you again- for all the support, all the words of appreciation. You guys make me proud to be an Avengers and a Stony fan, and I hope the ride was just as great for you as it was for me.
“Dum-Dum was chewing on his third stale cigar of the day, said it kept him awake. Gabe kept crowding him, tryna get ‘warmth’ from the lit cig, but everyone knew he just liked the smell. Reminded him of summers at Tampa.” There was the smallest smile whispering at the corners of Steve’s lips, rawer than if he’d broken apart and wept. “Buck was convinced the mission was my way of getting back at him for all our Coney Island trips, but I wouldn’t’ve picked these odds. Nine-car steamliner, hurtling down a mountain railroad at a hundred miles an hour. Ten second window.” Tony had never heard numbers…hurt, like this. They were bluntly cut syllables, dulled like they’d been repeated within the privacy of a mind stuck in rut a thousand times, their finality inescapable. “Ninety foot gorge.”
“I am not Ultron.” Tony said, and wondered if he believed himself. But hey, he now had a UN council to watch over his shoulder, just in case.
“This is how you’re gonna die!” He bellowed, voice modulator screeching with feedback, repulsors cutting off as his boots hit the plastic grass.
, and Wanda, and T’Challa, wise and supportive, and Scott, eyes glowing with hero-worship, and Bucky, who was
It wasn’t just her, though. There was a beautiful blonde woman, leaning against the railing of the St. Kilda bridge, the Yarra river gleaming sleekly in the background. Tight, groomed curls over a long black dress, a silk scarf encasing her shoulders. A redheaded man was photographing | <|output|> <|example|> was aching. Information was seeping through in increments. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> ” FRIDAY almost sounded excited <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> “I’d advise you to run simulations first, but JARVIS’ recordings indicate that you’ve never been more exhilarated than while blindly test driving a new suit, regardless of how indecorous he might have found your whoops-”
She fixed her eyes on him, steady and unwavering- the same eyes that had fixated on his the day they’d decided to… <|indexes|> 1 1 | |
<|text|> her, long sleeved shirt folded to the elbows, corduroy pants worn over loafers. They seemed just as alien to him as the green-haired girl trudging in front of him, as did every laughing, merry face on the road today. Every pair of crinkled eyes, every excitable voice. Like Steve was somehow incorporeal, existing on a plane separate to the rest of these people; the ones who’d been born in and had grown up in this world.
kind of wing aspect ratio, your plane’s pretty much a bumbling dragonfly against zippy hummingbirds with
” Tony resisted the urge to groan, or facepalm when he was wearing a metal suit of armour. Which Steve was Not Wearing. How hard was that to grasp? “And now I hath taken the Lord’s name in vain. I’ve not missed being on a team with you.”
He liked to fight. It was a sour thing to swallow- but swallow it he did. The Ultron debacle had been good for that, at least. He liked the physicality of it, the feeling of leaving an….impact. He liked proving himself, over and over and over and over. And it wasn’t just a flaw to acknowledge, and do his best to eradicate. It was something to accept, however unwillingly, and be at peace
But as Tony walked away, shoulders pulled back straight, the night coming alive with its myriad sounds in the trees and grass around them- Steve let himself feel a smidgen of hope anyway.
“Well I’m incredible, aren’t I?” Rhodey returned nonchalantly – then fell silent. The afternoon sun gleamed off the steel lines of his Stark braces, running sleekly up his spine to mid thorax and curving over his pelvis. The struts connecting to his knees were thinner, thigh muscles pressing firm and well-defined against the unyielding metal. Rhodey never missed a day of physio.
Feb. Anniversary of our most successful mission. Maximum number of rescues, no casualties.” Sam smiled- it flicked in and out of existence just as quickly. “Thought it was dead depressing to do it on one of the guys’ death days, or Memorial day…y’know.”
to so many things, like Pepper being essential for SI and Tony’s life and sanity in ways he’d never dream of betraying to her. And duralumin is hard yet lightweight, it builds the bodies of aircraft, and phrasing it like that seems easier than
Romanov was dancing with Bruce now, torsos pressed close, her chin tucked over his shoulder-swaying slow and tired. Barton and Hill were straight-backed still, his arm bent perfectly and pressed to her shoulder blade-and attempting to tickle her, if her impassive, unimpressed expression was any clue. Parker and MJ were obscured in the corner, feet wobbly and barely standing. Danvers and Rhodes had their foreheads pressed together, looking down at their moving feet.
That little thrown-off pause was identical to FRIDAY’s not even a minute ago- huh. Seemed like he’d ferreted out his source of inspiration for her after all. Being more than two years old though, Pepper made a far more dignified recovery. Replying straight back. It was almost funny, how unusual that was for | <|output|> <|example|> her, long sleeved shirt folded to the elbows, corduroy pants worn over loafers. They seemed just as alien to him as the green-haired girl trudging in front of him, as did every laughing, merry face on the road today. Every pair of crinkled eyes, every excitable voice. Like Steve was somehow incorporeal, existing on a plane separate to the rest of these people; the ones who’d been born in and had grown up in this world. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> Maximum number of rescues, no casualties <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> How hard was that to grasp? “And now I hath taken the Lord’s name in vain <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> It was something to accept, however unwillingly, and be at peace
But as Tony walked away, shoulders pulled back straight, the night coming alive with its myriad sounds in the trees and grass around them- Steve let himself feel a smidgen of hope anyway <|indexes|> 2 2 | |
<|text|> them. “Enough.”
So he blinks, and Steph’s eyes are looking a little glassy and he can tell because she’s too close, all of a sudden, too, too close-and something incredibly soft and
ambushed on site and had ample time to head back to base to put on that suit I pay for.” Huh, maybe it wasn’t that hard to argue with him after all.
And here they were again, where the wounds ran the deepest. “I wanted to tell you.” Steve said, desperate all over again, “-but it would only have hurt yo-“
“Not that kind of testing.” The words escaped, and Tony lifted his right hand with a slight twist of the wrist, pure muscle memory at this point. Seconds later, there came the cold kiss of metal at his palm-pieces flying in from the Mark XLV, gauntlet forming seamlessly in the empty spaces around his hand.
Steve’s feet were moving – he’d fallen into the dance, the pattern, unaware of even making the first step, the two of them circling each other around the ring. How many times had they done this? He should’ve… he should’ve kept count.
“Was it truly madness though? Or something…deeper. Something I’ve borne witness to in all of my associates…my friends. Something perhaps best evidenced by,” a hitch of hesitance here, a flash of emotion on that metallic, invulnerable, painfully empathetic face, “by Mr Maximoff’s demise. Mr Stark took it entirely on himself, he was the hand behind the creation that terminated such a young life. Agent Barton’s was the life that Mr Maximoff had chosen to exchange for his own; his guilt was only natural. Wan- “ Another twitch. “Miss Maximoff blamed herself for letting her brother get experimented on in the first place, getting so consumed by vengeance. And you’ve chosen to lug the load of Pietro’s life upon your conscience like you’ve had thousands of young soldiers’ lives before…haven’t you, Captain?”
A firming up of the jaw as if in resigned determination and Steve barely had the composure to compute before Tony changed everything up on him again, calculatingly spitting. “You do know I’ll never stop coming after him, right?”
“Wanda should have stayed in the Facility too.” Natasha cut through, mincing of words left far behind.
“Timing ain’t too bad, the press are outside anyway so you’ve skipped the hassle of calling a conference to break news of the divorce.” Tony acceded, and scattered laughs broke out in a sea of shining, amused faces. God, this felt surreal. “See, no, you’re doing it wrong, that pause was meant for the awkward silence. Maaaybe a scandalised gasp. Instead you’re all just smiling at me like I’m some deranged uncle at a wedding, which fair, I am.”
, he wasn’t a heathen. All ticket proceeds to high school art programs… ooh, maybe a competition? Children under 16 submit a design for what the next Mark should look like, god he should call Pepper– no he shouldn’t, terrible idea
café had an ‘outdoor seating area’ carpeted with said plastic grass, currently deserted by patrons and two out of three potted geraniums on fire. Being under | <|output|> <|example|> them. “Enough.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> them <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> Seconds later, there came the cold kiss of metal at his palm-pieces flying in from the Mark XLV, gauntlet forming seamlessly in the empty spaces around his hand <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> Mr Stark took it entirely on himself, he was the hand behind the creation that terminated such a young life <|indexes|> 2 2 | |
<|text|> attack would do that to a place.
The roof above his head was dark. The walls around him too-though as the seconds ticked away in his mind and his vision adjusted, details began to emerge. The walls were a dark grey, unpainted concrete damp in patches, creating shapes and swirls. A single, hanging fluorescent bulb gave off light-a dim yellow that licked against the overlapping tin sheets the roof seemed to be constructed of, gleaming dull and silver. He could see rust flakes at the joints.
“Guess we aren’t the only ones who hate him.” Steve turned the page he was holding over. It was a map of Queens with areas outlined in red and marked with a symbol meaning Bakuto’s name. Well, it actually said
After Tony left—Steve had stood in the hallway upstairs and listened for the door to close—Steve wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He didn’t want to leave the house, that was for sure, and he didn’t want any company. Dugan knew he was going through something so when Steve didn’t show up at the office, he took it upon himself to do what needed to be done for the day. No need in bothering the man more.
,” Tony said when she came into the room. “Welcome home. Dinner is cooking, I’m going to check in with Steve. Benni is in the kitchen with Clint.” He kissed her cheek and helped with her coat. His politeness won over his need to check up on Steve.
He headed out of the room and stopped only to tussle his hair. It didn’t need to be perfect either. He could be comfortable and himself. It was just him and Tony.
James, probably owing to his upbringing, was just the right amount of quiet and refined for her tastes.
James chuckled, nuzzling his face in Clint’s hair. He let out a deep sigh but Clint was already talking before he could carry on.
“You know, you and Clint seem to have a different relationship to Tony and I,” Steve started, changing the direction of his argument and tone of his voice.
“Because,” James began, looking down at the documents and maps from Gao, “he said he would keep them as long as it takes to get what he wants. That means he knows they are his only leverage on us. If he kills them, we have no reason to give him what he wants and there’s nothing else he can take from us.”
“And... you kept doing this even after giving me a home? A job? Everything I could ever ask for? Thinking I’d change my mind?” He dropped the pen and rubbed both hands over his face.
“He’s in a prison… of sorts and no, he has no clue where you are. Or Benni, for that matter,” Steve told him.
“We refueled and the man I am currently seeing works two doors down, so yeah, I did stop by and say hello,” Steve told Fury.
After a moment’s hesitation he pushed all those thoughts away and opened the door. And then he was greeted with blue and a wave of Steve’s | <|output|> <|example|> attack would do that to a place. <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> “Guess we aren’t the only ones who hate him.” Steve turned the page he was holding over. It was a map of Queens with areas outlined in red and marked with a symbol meaning Bakuto’s name. Well, it actually said <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 | | <|output|> <|example|> He could see rust flakes at the joints <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> attack would do that to a place <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> “Because,” James began, looking down at the documents and maps from Gao, “he said he would keep them as long as it takes to get what he wants <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> “Welcome home <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> James chuckled, nuzzling his face in Clint’s hair <|indexes|> 4 <|example|> Dinner is cooking, I’m going to check in with Steve <|indexes|> 5 | |
<|text|> scent. After his eyes got used to the darkness he looked around. Another big bed, a lot more pillows though, the same shades of blue; his hat balanced on a lamp next to a big desk with folders, papers and a briefcase next to it. If he hadn’t known better he would have assumed that Steve had a normal nine to five desk job in some office. Tony looked at the walls and paintings. He tiptoed into the room to get a closer look and opened the curtains to let in a little light to examine the picture further. Never before had he seen so much green in one place and he couldn’t help but wonder if it could be real.
Compromising, he winked at Steve and followed Rhodey. Steve stood there, trying to keep his face blank but his eyebrows shot up at the wink and he looked right at Bucky who was watching him above all the vultures at the table devouring the gift.
Steve chuckled quietly, still perusing the information. So far, based on the information gathered, they knew quite a bit about their serial arsonist. Unfortunately it wasn’t anything they could use to identify them but at least they now had a general timeframe in which the arsonist was most likely planting the device and they were able to create a perimeter in which they assumed he would strike next. He was active, he’d hit two diners in the last two weeks. It didn’t feel like much of a stretch to assume he’d hit a third next week.
“Hello, pet,” she said, thanking him as he put away her coat. “Ah, lovely. And where is Steven? And James?” She thought it a bit odd that either of them were anywhere their significant others weren’t but perhaps they had business to attend to. She waved her hand dismissively and said, “Never mind. I’ll go wash up. Smells
She didn’t shush him or otherwise try to quiet him. He needed to get it out and not feel like doing so was anything requiring hushing. She rocked him gently, reassuring him that she had him, he was safe.
you.” He moved closer, taking Tony’s hand with both of his now. “You’re strong and you’re loyal and you’re smart. And despite me deserving no less, you didn’t treat me like some heartless, bloodthirsty person. You were respectful but not fearful, kind not superficial, and you were concerned
“Maybe,” he said, dipping Tony gently, staring into his eyes, his own half-lidded and that same lazy smile on his face. He was happier than he'd been in months. His eyes fell from Tony’s to his lips and he sighed, licking his own slowly and pulling him back up.
Blood went everywhere and James dropped him, stepping on him as he moved to get to Steve who was trying to keep his breathing even but was quickly bleeding out. “Steve, Stevie, hey, hey, stay with me.” He was lightly slapping his face. Steve had lost a lot of blood already and he couldn’t keep his eyes open.
After their second round of apple | <|output|> <|example|> scent. After his eyes got used to the darkness he looked around. Another big bed, a lot more pillows though, the same shades of blue; his hat balanced on a lamp next to a big desk with folders, papers and a briefcase next to it. If he hadn’t known better he would have assumed that Steve had a normal nine to five desk job in some office. Tony looked at the walls and paintings. He tiptoed into the room to get a closer look and opened the curtains to let in a little light to examine the picture further. Never before had he seen so much green in one place and he couldn’t help but wonder if it could be real. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> Compromising, he winked at Steve and followed Rhodey <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> Never before had he seen so much green in one place and he couldn’t help but wonder if it could be real <|indexes|> 1 | |
<|text|> juice for everyone, the door opened unexpectedly and Sarah came in with Benni, both of them carrying bags.
“I hope you’re inviting everyone in the street because that should feed them all,” Tony greeted Sarah.
Steve let go and shoved Loki back towards the stairs. James followed while Dmitri and Dugan checked out the upstairs and went through Loki’s documents.
“Ah, there ya are.” Pepper smiled. “Got me worried there for a minute.” He turned to look at her and sighed again.
“Didn’t say that. It certainly would be a very hands on insurance business. And wow, you don’t want to miss a single payment.” He grinned too, taking Steve’s hand and pressing a kiss onto his palm. “You certainly give back when it’s due.”
Sarah addressed one of the men outside the house to drive them to the hospital. Tony held onto her hand during the drive there. She was trembling and muttering words under her breath. If Sarah Rogers was truly praying, Tony thought, it didn’t look good. But it had to. Because Steve promised. Everything would be fine.
When he had arranged everything as he should and was about to leave, Steve reached out and grabbed his wrist. Tony flinched strongly and Steve tasted bile in his mouth knowing that look and that reaction. His expression must not have been very pleasant either because Tony tried to pull away but Steve kept a tight hold, reaching into his suit pocket to put a small roll of cash into Tony’s hand.
The closer he got to his office, the worse and more prominent that ominous feeling became and the more grateful he was for Tony’s libido. At least he had something good to focus on to keep his mood from plummeting completely.
“Well, it’s been nearly four months and you’ve been good about using your crutches to keep weight off of it,” James continued, leaning to reach over and touch the cast, moving his fingers along it and applying pressure to the part of Clint’s leg not covered by the cast. “Does that hurt?”
Even though he was asleep—and in a wonderful dreamless sleep at that—Tony woke up immediately when touched. For a split second he saw himself back in his bed with Benni next to him and Howard behind him. That picture quickly disappeared and instead he saw him. Mr Rogers.
colouring books in the air and shakes it. “Right, ‘cause I’m the toddler of the team, I geddit. Thanks, Cap.”
“Checking.” FRIDAY said. “Initial hit – a tweet at 2:14 pm, about a mile out from the café. @Hanessy34 says:
, something that had flown out and lodged right under Tony’s elbow, blood creeping past his cheek and scrapes all down his arms – muscles screaming as he raised himself off the ground and flopped onto his ass.
Tony hitched himself onward, mental map tracing a route to the main workshop via the underbellies of his cars. The Bentley he crawled under shook above him – the front wheel in his vision tilting slowly to the right as if the entire car was being… oh shit.
Just that one day, Steve had | <|output|> <|example|> juice for everyone, the door opened unexpectedly and Sarah came in with Benni, both of them carrying bags. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> colouring books in the air and shakes it. “Right, ‘cause I’m the toddler of the team, I geddit. Thanks, Cap.” <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 | | <|output|> <|example|> Steve let go and shoved Loki back towards the stairs <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Tony flinched strongly and Steve tasted bile in his mouth knowing that look and that reaction <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> juice for everyone, the door opened unexpectedly and Sarah came in with Benni, both of them carrying bags <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> The Bentley he crawled under shook above him – the front wheel in his vision tilting slowly to the right as if the entire car was being… oh shit <|indexes|> 3 | |
<|text|> apparently disappeared from his then-safehouse and somehow had a tete-a-tete with Tony Stark. Sam didn’t know the details of what had happened that day, just as he didn’t know what had occurred when he’d sent Stark off on a wild goose chase from the Raft and only Steve and Barnes had returned. Steve didn’t offer to share, and Sam didn’t ask.
the problem, and Steve didn’t know if that was what he wanted. He didn’t know if he wanted to acknowledge a problem at all. He didn’t know if he wanted to let the myth of a Captain America who forever knew his mind, collapse.
taped across his wall, which-he knows what she’s doing here, brook and water and…this is actually incredibly lame and a little creepy considering she snuck into the place he likes to trim his nose hair in, and definitely shouldn’t make him snicker like the way it does. He washes up and lopes into the kitchen for his coffee, only to find
soft and squishy, green or not; but that wasn’t the important bit here. “Four hundred and sixteen? Isn’t that the longest we’ve gone so far?”
Another second, drawn long and taut. Tony turned his head away, heels tapping down the stairs, vanishing behind the stage.
“You were.” The words came, quiet and certain. Tony stopped and looked at the teenager with the ducked head, face still ruddy with embarrassment but with a curious steadiness to the gaze that had convinced Tony in the first place, that very first time. Peter met his eyes like it was the last thing he wanted to do, but like he wouldn’t drop it for the world. “I don’t understand superhero politics, Mr. Stark. I don’t know what exactly was going on at Leipzig, but I knew that you needed to stop Captain America from leaving. Badly enough that you’d recruit a sixteen-year-old to help you.”
“Google,” FRIDAY continued on stiffly – bless her dear processors – “has mostly come back with a collection of clips from Swedish and Korean horror movies. Should I curate them into a list?”
Tony blinked once, and blinked again, just to be sure, because- that was it? The king handing over the ‘rarest, most precious mineral’, with nary a question, forget the Spanish Inquisition that it deserved? “One more thing.”
“Are you okay?” The dork asked concernedly, all the while Tony swore to high heaven, blinking up at the bed’s ornate canopy with watering eyes. “I think I can grab some ice from downstairs–”
overtook the audio, barely space for a breath between vicious blows- Steve stared, watching the armour wince and flinch and brace itself like it was a living thing, slowly crumpling in under the vibranium.
Sam watched Stark tilt his head slightly to the right, the rapidly changing, increasingly complex microexpressions contorting his face, the silently mouthed
His hands dropped to the granite top of the basin, lips twitching into a smile despite it all. “I’m good FRIDAY.”
Minutes passed by, his breath puffing out steadily in the quiet. An interminable amount of time later, there was a heavier breath approximating a sigh- and | <|output|> <|example|> apparently disappeared from his then-safehouse and somehow had a tete-a-tete with Tony Stark. Sam didn’t know the details of what had happened that day, just as he didn’t know what had occurred when he’d sent Stark off on a wild goose chase from the Raft and only Steve and Barnes had returned. Steve didn’t offer to share, and Sam didn’t ask. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> Sam didn’t know the details of what had happened that day, just as he didn’t know what had occurred when he’d sent Stark off on a wild goose chase from the Raft and only Steve and Barnes had returned <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> An interminable amount of time later, there was a heavier breath approximating a sigh- and <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> Sam watched Stark tilt his head slightly to the right, the rapidly changing, increasingly complex microexpressions contorting his face, the silently mouthed
His hands dropped to the granite top of the basin, lips twitching into a smile despite it all <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> Sam didn’t know the details of what had happened that day, just as he didn’t know what had occurred when he’d sent Stark off on a wild goose chase from the Raft and only Steve and Barnes had returned <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> ” The words came, quiet and certain <|indexes|> 4 <|example|> Tony stopped and looked at the teenager with the ducked head, face still ruddy with embarrassment but with a curious steadiness to the gaze that had convinced Tony in the first place, that very first time <|indexes|> 5 <|example|> “I think I can grab some ice from downstairs–”
overtook the audio, barely space for a breath between vicious blows- Steve stared, watching the armour wince and flinch and brace itself like it was a living thing, slowly crumpling in under the vibranium <|indexes|> 6 6 | |
<|text|> he moved his head to dig his chin into the pillow, strands of hair slipping over his forehead and brushing over the tip of his nose. Another minute.
Wanda was upstream- there was a stream, or a brook, or one of those synonyms chattering past the nearby rocks; the faint gurgling sound was the only thing that broke the silence amidst the repetitive
fool himself again, “Cut that, that was definitely irresponsible of me. But I trusted you to make your own choices, and you’re almost as strong as the fucking
of War Machine’s boot as he stepped forward and just a little in front of Iron Man, sightline to the arc reactor severed abruptly. Saw Steve’s shoulders padded with Kevlar curl in, just half an inch, as he made the same realisation. “Iron Man has the exact location, Falcon can fly over with him to check it out.”
Steve stepped further inside. It wasn’t a traditionally walled room, space itself seeming to bend and curve unnaturally with the stylistic architecture. Smooth grey walls rose from polished wooden floorboards, curving away to form shadowed alcoves. Three echoing footsteps-and Steve was within one of the cubbies, observing objects mounted in the recesses on the wall, sealed behind glass, softly backlit.
She’s mid-air, and for a second, Tony mistakes the spinning vertigo in his stomach for awe. She’s propelled herself off a crate, and while her left heel’s already caved the body of the bot in, her descending shield is poised to deal the final severing blow. His engineering eyes scope out the twisting figure in seconds-the straight lines running from the ballet perfect point of her toe to the trim waist, twisted sharply into a forty five degree angle as she inhumanly bends backward mid fall to snap the arm of the very human guy who’d snuck up behind her. Idiot.
.” He bent down, hands feeling about wildly for several straining seconds before finding it and seizing it off the floor. Several seconds of silence fleeted by- nothing registering except the heartbeat drumming in his ear amidst the almost feverish concentration of trying to bring the recording up as quick as feasibly possible.
For the next five steps, Steve didn’t respond. Barely a sound intervened in the silence, except the rhythmic clanking of the suit, the rise and fall of their breaths with the wind. And then, “D’you think there’s any way we can get out of it?”
Several more seconds of scrabbling at the knob and the door finally wrenched open with a bang and a shower of crumbled plaster, squealing hinges adding to the din. Tony stepped through into the white-tiled, dingy cubicle of a bathroom, the tiny window at the far end showing nothing but the tall walls of the neighbouring building, barely letting any light in. He knuckled around for the light switch and flicked it on, the bulb above his head flickering to life with a quiet crackle. The washbasin was barely a foot away, and it was another struggle of effort to open the tap, the packing nut and washer flaked over with jagged | <|output|> <|example|> he moved his head to dig his chin into the pillow, strands of hair slipping over his forehead and brushing over the tip of his nose. Another minute. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> Three echoing footsteps-and Steve was within one of the cubbies, observing objects mounted in the recesses on the wall, sealed behind glass, softly backlit <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> And then, “D’you think there’s any way we can get out of it?”
Several more seconds of scrabbling at the knob and the door finally wrenched open with a bang and a shower of crumbled plaster, squealing hinges adding to the din <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> Three echoing footsteps-and Steve was within one of the cubbies, observing objects mounted in the recesses on the wall, sealed behind glass, softly backlit <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> Barely a sound intervened in the silence, except the rhythmic clanking of the suit, the rise and fall of their breaths with the wind <|indexes|> 3 3 | |
<|text|> lines of rust.
The breath stopped still in his chest for a second, refusing to move onward. Steve didn’t blink, bile burning in the base of his throat. “That’s…not the same thing.”
“I do know. It isn’t my fault, won’t ever be my fault, I couldn’t take responsibility for it if I tried.”
But of course Sam voiced nothing out loud, and Steve’s pale eyes dropped further, searching for a thing that couldn’t be found on the cockpit floor. The thin line his lips had compressed themselves into curved up in the facsimile of a smile. “Bypassed straight into voicemail, left a message. Which I guess still technically meets the terms of our agreement.”
Anyways……excitement. Yeah. Not something to be found in great abundance in Steve’s life nowadays, for someone who was technically an ex-superhero. Being on the run wasn’t very conducive to most life pursuits, forget ones involving any actual action. Things would have been so much more convenient if he had a secret identity.
of everything. The swing band with their too shiny coats, the screen with Fred and Ginger waltzing away in perfect video quality. The smarmy dancers, the clamouring crowd that was pushing past him even now, phones lifted high in the air, ready to ‘capture the magic’.
Tony scrambled under the next car purely on instinct, chest tight with exertion, lungs filling with the stench of burnt cement. Not a dumb suit then. Something intelligent was after his life… and it knew how to operate his armours.
“Really.” Tony breathed; and it was a light, sibilant, almost scoffing sound. “Answer me this, then. Would you have signed the Accords?”
Hours later, they’re trekking back to the Tower, clanking suit of armour and all. He’d offer to fly them back…except Steph is soot-streaked, and sweat-soaked and the stray strands of her hair are actually tinged a little red at the tips. There’s a little trickle of foreign blood making its way down her jawline, even though they’ve been fighting Doombots, because the universe loves fucking him over like that.
- superheroes would lose every single inch of the little credibility they still had, and everything that Tony had fought so hard for, no matter how headstrong and misguided, would be lost-
“You don’t trust yourself.” Steve said, and there was something almost pleading about it. “You’re terrified of the unlimited things you could achieve- it’s not about being right all the time, it’s that I trust
against his skull, a marching beat of rain hitting the helmet like a chorus of white noise. Monsoon green stretched below him in an unending expanse, threatening grey above – and he flew towards the horizon, unfeeling of the downpour that battered against the suit. Ever so often thunder would crack, close enough to make his speakers rattle with the feedback, the power level in the suit spiking with every roar.
His chest constricted involuntarily, squeezing away under an imaginary reactor. Words rose in his throat and they escaped too quickly, and not nearly as impassive as they should be. “Tell me you actually came here for a reason.”
The air was far less musty | <|output|> <|example|> lines of rust. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> Things would have been so much more convenient if he had a secret identity <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> Would you have signed the Accords?”
Hours later, they’re trekking back to the Tower, clanking suit of armour and all <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> “Answer me this, then <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> ” Tony breathed; and it was a light, sibilant, almost scoffing sound <|indexes|> 3 3 | |
<|text|> in the passageway than he’d expected-there were probably built in ducts, for better circulation. The blast had caused the barrier heap of sand to blow inwards, plastered to the wall and crunching under their feet, but far less in volume than expected, probably as the ceiling had already begun and there was only so much sand that could occupy a space. A space that terminated in a door, as it turned out-also helpfully taken out by the blast. The corridor stretched on ahead, blanketed black and seemingly endless.
“You think those are from the quakes?” Sam asked instead, chin bobbing up towards the cracks wreathing their way up the walls. Iron Man paused, repulsor light darting over the patch of wall-there were no jagged edges of plaster visible, just solid concrete and spider-like cracks that were clearly more than skin-deep.
Except this Iron Man would just point out in a monotone that there weren’t any visible light sources around, even though they would have had to light up this place somehow. He didn’t look too distant from a character in a horror tale himself-you couldn’t look at him straight, the only source of light, harsh and blinding, in a passageway of darkness. The light from the circle in his chest cast shadows underneath a glinting, square, deathly sharp jaw; light emanating from palms encased in blood-gold metal gauntlets that could punch through walls.
“..Alright.” And there was that little shift, that absence of an electronic whine that Tony was probably imagining anyway- that indicated FRIDAY was no longer actively surveilling the area.
Steve blinked, and blinked again, each second punctuated by the flutter of whisper-thin lashes. By the fifth time, his irises had gone glassy, though his voice wouldn’t shake. “What do you think?”
Silence never really fell, not with the ocean rumbling in the distance, but several seconds passed without words.
But after four days, an email appeared in his inbox, seemingly out of nowhere though of course it had been borne on the invisible webs that the modern world had given birth to. And so the trickle began again- sometimes four of the recordings in a week, sometimes an entire fortnight passing before he’d see the sun of Siberia gleam on metal and Kevlar again. And as the weeks passed, it became increasingly clear- Tony was not doing this to mock Steve, or prove a point, or even attempt to change his mind. In fact, it seemed more likely that Tony had no idea that Steve was receiving any of these in the first place.
There was an almost ominous silence in response to that, and Steve felt almost obliged to provide a reason (and resented Sam all the more for it), “It’s Sharon.”
The Avengers logo blazed on the wall behind her head, the corner of the A obscured by her curls. It felt, for a second, that his knees might give way after all.
Of course, he didn’t say any of that. Except a muted, “Me too,” and the responding spark in Steve’s eyes let him know that no more would be required either.
“Oh, but sweetheart.” Peggy | <|output|> <|example|> in the passageway than he’d expected-there were probably built in ducts, for better circulation. The blast had caused the barrier heap of sand to blow inwards, plastered to the wall and crunching under their feet, but far less in volume than expected, probably as the ceiling had already begun and there was only so much sand that could occupy a space. A space that terminated in a door, as it turned out-also helpfully taken out by the blast. The corridor stretched on ahead, blanketed black and seemingly endless. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> But after four days, an email appeared in his inbox, seemingly out of nowhere though of course it had been borne on the invisible webs that the modern world had given birth to <|indexes|> 0 | |
<|text|> raised soft fingers, leaned enough to ghost them over the back of Steve’s neck, catching at the flyway strands of a haircut she’d never gotten to see. “You’ve already done your time someplace else.”
They reach the Tower entrance, and the elevator zooms them up in mere seconds. They step into the common living room and she actually
and down they came, him and the suit, catching the floor harshly on his knees. His mouth tasted blood, his chest screaming bloody murder. Not enough, the suit was dead weight. He needed something to support it.
is what the UN wants us to go help with.” And the diagram of the ocean heaved up, the holograms shuddering in place, long ripples originating from the centre and cascading outwards. Tiny figures appeared alongside the circular lines, seismic readings gone wild.
He stared ahead, gaze affixed on the distance like Tony’s was, had to be. Appropriate, perhaps. Two sightlines reaching for a common goal, forever parallel, never meeting. “Running errands for Mrs Hosemann down the street, even though she could probably lift the washing more easily than I could. Making breakfast for Ma before her five am shift at the hospital, every morning. Facing down Mikey and his thugs in the alleys. Basic training in the Army. It wasn’t about whether it was unpleasant, or…scary, or difficult. Sometimes it was all three. I
Steve dropped his gaze to the dancers, head ringing. They were feisty, energetic; every vigorous jerk of their heads set free a shower of sweat droplets. The stage was fairly vibrating under the force of their tapping feet, he could feel the tremors pass into the concrete under him, though he was fairly certain no one else could. Broad smiles, on each and every face, except….
“Yes. Later.” Steph seems to force out through gritted teeth, even while her eyes seem a little dimmed. Wow. She must have really wanted those damn shakes. Maybe it’s a Depression era thing because they’re obviously going to have to chuck the bagels? She had really insisted on paying for both of them today.
“Sometime during that battle, the fight stopped being about freedom and the Avengers’ ability to save the world when it needed them, and became about protecting Bucky Barnes instead. And while I’d never back down from saving a man’s life, Captain.” Clint’s eyes flashed, from things brighter than emotion. “We damn well should have had the right to make that choice for ourselves.”
The surreal part was that there were five strapping men on that stage, complete with high-waisted, pleated pants and suspenders, jitterbugging away. Beyond the platform, and the crowd of watchers awkwardly swaying or bobbing on the balls of their feet, a swing band was strumming out something lively. Looming over it all, stood a ten foot screen swaying gently in the wind, resplendent with the black and white forms of Fred and Ginger cutting a step.
The clock ticked. The sun had dipped almost completely under the horizon; just leaving orange streaks on the glossy surfaces that shone into Clint’s eyes. What was keeping Laura and the kids?
“You | <|output|> <|example|> raised soft fingers, leaned enough to ghost them over the back of Steve’s neck, catching at the flyway strands of a haircut she’d never gotten to see. “You’ve already done your time someplace else.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> She must have really wanted those damn shakes <|indexes|> 0 0 | |
<|text|> sleep on time.” FRIDAY was much more given to interruptions too, possibly because of aforementioned caring. “You cook, and eat, and don’t get completely lost in your work, and listen to me when I ask you to take a break when you do-“
“I did. But the energy requirements for making a three inch chip and eight hundred pounds is remarkably different, believe it or not.”
There was an annoyed groan of mangled syllables at the other end, crackling over the network. Steve resisted the urge to grin. Sam was probably hitting his face with his palm repeatedly, or thumping his forehead against the desk in that entertaining way people nowadays expressed their frustration.
Tony stared at that face, the straight jaw and honest eyes- he should have closed this recording off ages ago. Maybe the point was wrecking a good memory he didn’t even remember he had, watch for himself what a concerned, blinded idiot he had been-
She looked amazing- even in a hologram, without the help of colour to fill in her strawberry blonde hair, or her creamy, freckled cheeks. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, her collar straight and starched, but there was that smallest indent in her lower lip that indicated she’d been chewing it before making the call.
“At least Tony didn’t start off helping the homicidal AI he had a hand in creating.” Sharp and cold, like a whip crack. He could see the cracks lining her expressionless face now. “She went from that to getting a free spot on the Avengers. How many years did we spend in SHIELD, atoning for our regrets-” He could see the film play out before her eyelids, just the way it did on his: Ottawa, Belmopan, Budapest, Dhaka, Riyadh…, an endless series of names they exchanged like humorous in jokes, pretending that they hadn’t bled out for each one, “-before we even knew the Initiative was something on the cards-”
“The possibility that everything I’d’ve given up my life for was a sham, was terrifying.” A deep, bracing breath. “The prospect of trusting other people was terrifying.”
“Maybe,” Ross acquiesced, but not before his lip quirked upward under that godforsaken moustache. “except I wanted to deliver the job offer in person.”
difference between sass to pass the time in those infrequent moments of boredom whilst punching aliens, and sass that covered up very real annoyance over the welfare of a fellow… an ex-teammate.
Memory-Steve’s face wiped itself of all expression, the shield rose. The setting Siberian sun flashed off it in a blinding glare as it fell in an arc- but Steve’s attention was caught by red, gauntleted fingers, rising up involuntarily to protect the face even though the owner had so clearly wanted this outcome. Goaded his way into it.
Clint had been adamant about taking Wanda along with him after the condition in which they’d recovered her from…..custody, and Steve couldn’t have been happier about it. She’d obviously latched on to Clint as a brother-figure after Pietro, someone to seek guidance from; and anyone who saw Clint with his kids would be a knucklehead to think he | <|output|> <|example|> sleep on time.” FRIDAY was much more given to interruptions too, possibly because of aforementioned caring. “You cook, and eat, and don’t get completely lost in your work, and listen to me when I ask you to take a break when you do-“ <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> ” Sharp and cold, like a whip crack <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Tony stared at that face, the straight jaw and honest eyes- he should have closed this recording off ages ago <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> “The prospect of trusting other people was terrifying <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> He could see the cracks lining her expressionless face now <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> Steve resisted the urge to grin <|indexes|> 4 | |
<|text|> deserved any less. But Clint could also be…..wilful at times, and the way his drawn face was dipping in and out of light and shadow as he unendingly scraped at his weapons…it didn’t bode well.
“All these years, Tony. The fights, with or against each other. We’ve talked and laughed and argued and cried and…” There, at that spot between his shoulder blades – Tony could feel Steve’s breath on his skin. Warm and just the littlest bit shaky. “Has any of it, ever, felt like waiting?”
Tony smiled, quick and uncaring. Pain was beginning to reassert its existence in his muscles, not content with being ignored for too long. “You could have just called.”
the repressed anguish outlined in every stark line of his face, he’d gone through so much, only to be persecuted again and again and
“Sometimes your heroes aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.” And…damn. There it was. The little contemptuous, angry voice made of concentrated hurt. And he’d been doing so well too.
“You should come around to SI on Monday.” Tony heard himself say, and just came up short of punching himself in the mouth in the seconds that followed.
The place was still desolate, even while Melbourne celebrated life and living in the world outside this building; monument really, built to honour the passing of time. So silent. Or not…not really. There was a constant hum in the space, quiet yet overpowering. Pitched at a single note, permeating through halls and corridors and little nooks and crannies. Steve had come to be used to it-it was the hum of the air conditioner, the device that people used these days to isolate themselves from the heat of the sun and the warmth of the outside air. It reigned in every room, the sound, every building he set foot in-within the closed walls of the place he was first thawed out in, the airy spaces of his classrooms, the cabins of the airplane that took twenty-three hours to fly to the other hemisphere of the world, via Los Angeles and Sydney airports (all, all humming); to the quiet abode of his own apartment. A perennial, emotionless sound filtering in from the shiny white machinery mounted on the walls, or tiny vents in the ceiling.
“Shushush.” Steve raised a hand to presumably bat Tony away, except he kind of grabbed Tony by the lapel and pulled him down instead – which okay, they were friends now, but jeez,
the thought slid into his mind, sudden and clear and perfectly formed. Not the low croon of the sax, or upbeat tempo of swing music; not the old-fashioned curve of the Cadillac, or the sharp snap of suspenders, or Fred and Ginger cutting a sharp step through the dance floor.
“He’s doing fine.” Stark repeated, words holding less emotion than the synthesised voice of Iron Man. “He’s…recovering.”
“Because.” Steve started, and paused to pull back a breath. Tony watched on, head still pounding from migraines, tongue dried at the back of his throat, eyes screaming for sleep desperately fixated on the echoes of a memory that had never happened | <|output|> <|example|> deserved any less. But Clint could also be…..wilful at times, and the way his drawn face was dipping in and out of light and shadow as he unendingly scraped at his weapons…it didn’t bode well. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> We’ve talked and laughed and argued and cried and…” There, at that spot between his shoulder blades – Tony could feel Steve’s breath on his skin <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Pain was beginning to reassert its existence in his muscles, not content with being ignored for too long <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> So silent <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> ” Steve raised a hand to presumably bat Tony away, except he kind of grabbed Tony by the lapel and pulled him down instead – which okay, they were friends now, but jeez,
the thought slid into his mind, sudden and clear and perfectly formed <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> ”
“Because <|indexes|> 4 4 | |
<|text|> this way. Filled in the blanks for himself
This has never happened before. Steve has no memories to compare it with, and catalogues every detail to add to a rolodex of sensations, for safekeeping; Tony’s eyelashes fluttering against Steve’s skin, the way the callus on his thumb digs into Steve’s chin when he’s holding it steady, the soft skin in the crevices between his fingers as their hands wound tighter together, the happiness of an impossible moment.
but that was too hard to voice, and he told his tongue to change direction, but it listened to him too well. And what came out was:
A beat passed, and maybe there was a glimmer of regret in Rhodey’s eyes, maybe like the day he’d trashed Tony’s house and taken his suit away. Just like that day, it passed before Tony could confirm it, and wasn’t followed by an apology. Just Rhodey, inhaling cold and quiet air, talking steadily. “If you think I’m going to let you do this alone, you’ve got another thing coming. I’m not leaving you.”
Three minutes elapsed, with Tony’s steady footfalls, rounding corners and pausing at crossings- before Steve realised that nothing was going to happen.
And Tony feels something sting to life under his eyelids, watches Steph’s knuckles white against a tightened fist, her shuttered eyes giving nothing and everything away.
“You came.” Two words breathed out, like they were obvious and world-changing, all at one go. “Not because you’d stopped believing in the Accords, but because you…momentarily disagreed.”
A white light danced against the shadows on the wall- a quick flash on and off. Steve resisted the urge to bury his face in his pillow and groan.
Water, water, water…Tony pushed himself back, the wheeled chair squeaking against the concrete of the workshop floor. Getting up was another task- his joints burned like
Steve opened his mouth to say, and then snapped it shut again, because Tony wasn’t asking him about that, was he? His mouth flew open again-and now he had to say something, because Captain America couldn’t fall to the level of a goldfish. “One…one night is hard-ly.. anything. Stalkers are…a bit more long term, I think.”
“No, I couldn’t have.” Peter’s lip quirked up, just a little. His gaze was clear and constant. “I was stronger than half the guys at that airport terminal, and the other half were on our side.”
A twitch of a hand, and the toilet paper ball went flying through the air, landing in the centre of the wastebasket. Perfect aim. Steve turned those massive shoulders, clear eyes regarding Tony impassively. “Is that why you’re doing this? And not just because you like clambering on and stomping all over people’s nerves?”
Tony is not ashamed to admit that he’s a little terrified. “Um, Steph. We could always have milkshakes later.”
The light changed, and Steve moved-each succeeding step lighter and lighter like he might float away.
Tony lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Does it matter? You could probably quote them to me verbatim, and in psychological terms to boot.”
Religion wasn’t meant to be just for crises. But the two seemed irretrievably entwined, | <|output|> <|example|> this way. Filled in the blanks for himself <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> Steve turned those massive shoulders, clear eyes regarding Tony impassively <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 <|example|> but that was too hard to voice, and he told his tongue to change direction, but it listened to him too well <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> ”
Religion wasn’t meant to be just for crises <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> this way <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> <|indexes|> 4 | |
<|text|> because it was when the skies darkened that people needed their faith the most. To hold on, and thus emerge on the other side, faith varnished and renewed and shining…or cracked right through the centre.
“That changes nothing.” Tony waved an impatient hand, barely avoiding cracking a nail on the adjacent wall. Hell, there really was no space in here.
He was tempted to send a piece of his mind back in response- the reply button taunted him. Tempted to type that apparently he’d left his shield in the care of the wrong man. Almost tempted to think that he should have brought down the shield where it was initially aime-
Something glimmered at the corner of his vision – an exhale fleeted from his lips, a solitary breath among thousands that had been paused midway. The Time Stone shone dully among the gaps of his fingers. But it was only a spark of green amidst a sea of red; the Reality Gem blazing next to it, eye-searing.
“Sentiment.” The word tasted cold on his tongue, like something he’d heard before and chosen to suppress. “You made a judgement call. Not based on facts, or consequences, or morals. But because you… empathised.”
Memory-Tony’s mouth smoothed up in a smirk, comfortably cocky and friendly. “You’ve already expressed your heartbreak at my imminent departure-“
This, though. This was quiet…barely whispering at the nerve endings of his eardrums, a whoosh that was there and gone. But at the same time it was low-a baritone that rumbled up from the depths of the earth, like having the faintest glimpse of something whose scope was beyond comprehension. A straining sound in the distance, deceptively quiet, layered with deeper things. The faintest threat on the horizon.
Funny, how different the world appeared when he had something to look forward to, small and ephemeral as it was.
Steve’s jaw clenched, very subtly. Tony admired the strong lines of it, beatific smile in place. And then, with a pronounced shake of his head as if he’d forgotten his place in the script, stepped out of the way with a bow and an expansive, ‘after you’ gesture.
“-ny Stark met with the Chinese foreign minister to ease out some final wrinkles with the Accords, in a step that rang out assurance for all Asian powers that were concerned about ‘superheroes’ being too Western-centric-“
"Unless you pose a danger to my students I will never read your mind without your permission. In fact, the most difficult thing about being a telepath is keeping out intrusive thought. Which is why Jean did not offer to shake hands: touch is difficult for telepaths, and she is not fully trained. Now, sit down and relax. Do you mind Jean and Scott being here? Jean will observe and monitor our exchange."
Erik," Tony greeted, as Iron Man landed, with the transporter, taller than Tony himself, coming to earth neatly beside him.
To Tony's ears he had been silent, but White Wolf whirled, snatching the gun from its holster. By then though, Steve was on him, smashing the gun aside and sending it flying over the edge of the | <|output|> <|example|> because it was when the skies darkened that people needed their faith the most. To hold on, and thus emerge on the other side, faith varnished and renewed and shining…or cracked right through the centre. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> "Unless you pose a danger to my students I will never read your mind without your permission. In fact, the most difficult thing about being a telepath is keeping out intrusive thought. Which is why Jean did not offer to shake hands: touch is difficult for telepaths, and she is not fully trained. Now, sit down and relax. Do you mind Jean and Scott being here? Jean will observe and monitor our exchange." <|indexes|> 1 1 1 | | <|output|> <|example|> Hell, there really was no space in here <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> ”
Memory-Tony’s mouth smoothed up in a smirk, comfortably cocky and friendly <|indexes|> 1 1 1 <|example|> Now, sit down and relax <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> But at the same time it was low-a baritone that rumbled up from the depths of the earth, like having the faintest glimpse of something whose scope was beyond comprehension <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> This was quiet…barely whispering at the nerve endings of his eardrums, a whoosh that was there and gone <|indexes|> 4 <|example|> The Time Stone shone dully among the gaps of his fingers <|indexes|> 5 5 | |
<|text|> walkway. Tony dived after it.
Tony forced his eyes open. Nothing about the HUD had changed, but beyond that, outside in the ocean, there was a flickering light.
The Doombot was staring down at the artefact, grasping it so tightly that it seemed to Steve that he was trying to crush it.
"It's nothing to do with either the Air Force or NASA. If you can find Storm, ask him why anyone would want to steal his sister's DNA."
There was a double click that was vaguely familiar, then a voice – Howard Stark's voice – crackled from the overhead speakers: "Steve... Steve, I cannot believe in my heart that this tape will ever be activated by your fingerprints, but if you are here and listening to this it must mean that Erskine's serum kept you alive, as I hoped it would, and that someone eventually found you. If I am standing beside you at this moment you will already know what I am going to say, but I doubt that I could be that lucky. Besides, then I would have been the one to open the doors. Only two other people ever knew what was concealed here; one is Maria, my wife, the other is Margaret Grey – Peggy Carter as was. Maybe one of them sent you here.
And Steve laughed, though perhaps there was a note of hysteria at the very back of it. "Oh, Tony, you..." He put both hands on Tony's shoulders, apparently to hold them apart. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"So Jan tells me. She also says I have to report this to you, though neither of us knows what it signifies."
They were actually outside the building and making their way along a narrow pathway that rounded an ancient baobab tree when they came face to face with the real White Wolf, surrounded by the Hatut Zeraze.
For half a heartbeat he considered responding, but it wasn't worth the risk. It was years since he'd felt that particular need...
"If the pain had interfered with the pleasure, I would have definitely said 'No.' Look, Steve, sex – sexual relationships – are about negotiation. It isn't fair on you that I know exactly what I want while you're still trying things out, but that's why it's so important to let me know when you're... uncomfortable. I can't read your mind, babe, though I can make guesses from your body language—"
. I suspect both. Nor do they have digestive organs. Instead, they can input energy, including broadcast energy."
"Your personal escort calling," Iron Man's voice interrupted. "There's an unidentified contact below us."
And there it was, hanging over the vertical side of a gully. Thor stood below it, water rushing about his knees, supporting the front of the truck with his left hand while lightning leaped from the hammer in his right.
It didn't work now. "Water and painkillers first," Steve said firmly, handing Tony a glass filled with clear liquid that unfortunately was not gin or vodka, and two capsules. Now he was faced with it, he also vaguely remembered being coaxed to drink | <|output|> <|example|> walkway. Tony dived after it. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> I suspect both <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> She also says I have to report this to you, though neither of us knows what it signifies <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> Nothing about the HUD had changed, but beyond that, outside in the ocean, there was a flickering light <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> If I am standing beside you at this moment you will already know what I am going to say, but I doubt that I could be that lucky <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> ' Look, Steve, sex – sexual relationships – are about negotiation <|indexes|> 4 <|example|> It was years since he'd felt that particular need <|indexes|> 5 | |
<|text|> a disconcerting amount of water at some ungodly hour.
"We'll sort that out later. Meanwhile, let's get out of here." He was offered a metal covered arm, which locked around his waist and he was lifted up into a darkening sky, as clouds swept in to cover the stars and the sliver of moon.
Tony snorted. "Fury thinks he owns everyone. It's about time he learned otherwise and, boy, am I going to enjoy teaching him." He suddenly saw a possible yawning chasm in his plans. "Steve, tell me you didn't sign a contract with SHIELD."
He looked hopefully at Tony, who smiled and nodded, guessing that the message had been memorised and that none of his escort spoke English. The man bowed, and led the way down the corridor, the other members of the escort falling in behind.
as the Ferrari reared up in imitation of the prancing horse on its hood and toppled towards the creek.
T'Challa had stopped talking some time ago, and even Tony had fallen silent in the face of his stubborn silence. Or maybe he was talking to his god... they must be getting close to the island now.
No, he had to go back to New York to face her with these facts and suspicions, even if the thought dismayed him.
Fucking hell, this was what Clint meant, Fury's ace-in-the-hole, the bait he had always intended to dangle in front of Captain America. This woman was meant to be a connection to the past. Steve's only connection. How could he resist it?
"Thanks." The water was balm to his throat. He knew better than to gulp it down, but the temptation was strong.
Steve watched the scratched and flickering footage with an expression of disbelief. "Okay," he said. "I admit that guy looks a bit like me, but what he's doing with that... that discus—"
The first thing he noticed was that the shower was still running but he couldn't see Steve through the glass wall of the cubicle. Skidding to a halt, he peered round it.
"He wouldn't, would he?" Jan's expression was sympathetic, but she said, "I wasn't going to but... Steve, Pepper spent over ten years trying to save Tony from himself and failed, totally, even when they were together. The only person who could exercise control over him, and even then only in subtle ways, was his mother. His relationship with his father was, well, complicated."
"She confirmed what you'd said. Did she tell you she'd gotten in deeper than she'd intended with SHIELD while trying to protect you?"
Tony didn't want to think about all Pepper had left. In fact, he wanted to think about anything rather than that. "Steve," he said. "When I woke up earlier I heard you asking for some help from Jarvis and me. I guess we both owe you – so ask away."
"But you'll accept it from soup kitchens, apparently. Steve, I will not let you starve yourself to death. Please, please stay for a while. And at least talk to Vision, even if you won't listen to me."
"It was the Hulk who went through the portal, and | <|output|> <|example|> a disconcerting amount of water at some ungodly hour. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> Tony snorted <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> a disconcerting amount of water at some ungodly hour <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> <|indexes|> 2 | |
<|text|> even if he turned back into Bruce, as long as he's conscious he can turn back into the Hulk," Hank pointed out, "and the Hulk's not going to lead them there."
"Rhodey told you that too? Well, as it happens, no, I'm not. In fact, even when we were together, marriage wasn't on the table." Or had it been? In Pep's mind, at least? "Not the marrying kind, any more than he is. So I can't help you catch him, babe."
"Do it all the same. You know where the guest rooms are. You and Betty can clean up there. I couldn't find any trace of your luggage – if you had any – but the rooms come equipped with nightwear and all the toiletries you might want. Also, Pepper left some clothes here. They'll be about right for Betty, though they'll swamp Jan. So—"
"Yes. Probably incredibly handsome and capable, half in love with his employer and armed to the teeth. Jan's a qualified pilot, but she'll have ridden shotgun on this one."
"Not that I know about," Tony replied. "Look, are you suggesting that you abandon 'Captain America'? Because I have to say I am not okay with that. Not at all. There's a whole history of heroism that goes with—"
Shuri gasped in surprise – and possibly pleasure, but Steve didn't think so – as T'Challa shouldered his way past Storm and Danvers to glare down at her and ask a plainly angry question in Wakandan.
"Panic is not in his protocols. Pepper might, though, if he tells her he's lost all contact with me. He shouldn't do that for another forty-eight hours. They're not the problem. The problem is that if I can't get him to send the armour I've got no chance of finding the Tiny Hulk, or, if he's no longer tiny, no chance of stopping him."
"Sort of a bathroom. Contains what a British sergeant I used to know referred to as 'the shit facilities.'"
"Charlotte Olympia – and I'm waiting to hear about this miracle. You haven't promised me one of those since ... oh, about midnight last night."
"What?" Tony said, looking at him in surprise. "Is that really bothering you?" He put the tablet to one side and held out his arms. "C'me here."
Thanking whatever power was looking out for genius billionaires for that ready-made excuse, Tony said, "Yeah. And because I came close to having to carry you here. And because you were dead a short time ago."
Tony was lounging in an Eames chair close to the windows, a tablet on his lap, peering at Steve over the top of the reading glasses that he had given up pretending he didn't need.
Iron Man hovered in the air above the mist that lay over the cemetery, the tops of the monuments standing like rocks in a white lake. Captain America stood on his right boot, an arm around his shoulders, feeling slightly light headed.
Feeling unappreciated and annoyed, Tony glared at him, but he guessed this counted as 'in the field' and Steve's orders were always worth following in those circumstances. He | <|output|> <|example|> even if he turned back into Bruce, as long as he's conscious he can turn back into the Hulk," Hank pointed out, "and the Hulk's not going to lead them there." <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> I couldn't find any trace of your luggage – if you had any – but the rooms come equipped with nightwear and all the toiletries you might want <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 <|example|> I couldn't find any trace of your luggage – if you had any – but the rooms come equipped with nightwear and all the toiletries you might want <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> They'll be about right for Betty, though they'll swamp Jan <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> " Or had it been? In Pep's mind, at least? "Not the marrying kind, any more than he is <|indexes|> 3 3 | |
<|text|> nodded curtly, making it clear that he was obeying, under protest, then stomped off to find the promised camp beds.
"We aren't transmitting anything, Tony. We just needed to tune in to the local radio to see what the press are making of the Great Gnome Mystery."
Howard was smiling at him. "It would be a lot to take in, even if you hadn't lost your memory – temporarily, almost certainly."
Reminded, he reached up and took the tiny communicator out of his ear. One of the first things he'd done when the Battle of Manhattan was over had been to tear apart one of the SHIELD earpieces and remake it smaller, neater and
"In far too much detail," Bruce said, putting a too-helpful hand on Tony's shoulder to keep him on the couch as Steve headed for the kitchen.
Steve peered over the top of his head. Storm was staring at an aircraft standing a few feet away – no, two aircraft, one behind the other. They resembled the aircraft used by SHIELD – quinjets, was it? – but were larger and sleeker, with the lines of a modern stealth bomber, though their wings were wider to accommodate to what looked like repulsor projectors.
Steve's eyes were closed, and when Tony lifted an eyelid, the eye inside stared sightlessly back at him. He felt desperately for a pulse, but there was no movement under his fingers.
"We don't know for certain where the Hulk is," Tony said. "But he's probably in the hands of a dangerous unknown enemy who just happens to have control of teleportation portals and some innovative weaponry."
"What the hell happened to my helicarrier, Stark?" Fury demanded, raising his voice to be heard above the din.
Steve raised his head, and the look on his face made Tony's heart skip a beat, then speed into overdrive. There was open adoration there, an intensity of feeling that made Tony's breath catch in his throat.
"He helped me cope," Steve said. "I've never been a solo act, Pepper. I like looking after people and Tony is... interesting."
He rode it. "Ms Potts was doing an excellent job as CEO, as you can see from the figures. Are we all agreed on that? Yes? Well, I want to see if the company can come to an accommodation with her. So I'm asking for time for negotiations to take place."
When it came to getting along with other people, Steve needed no instruction from him. Somehow, before Tony quite understood how it was happening, Steve, with the assistance of Bambi Arbogast, had become his emissary in negotiations with Pepper. Between them, these unlikely allies persuaded her to stay with the job of CEO, though she drove a hard bargain which included the proviso that Tony keep his distance and that her name would, indeed, be on the lease of the next ARC powered office building.
"Anthony Stark," T'Challa said, rising to his feet. "Wakanda thanks you for your assistance in the restoration of its legitimate government, the rout of its enemies and the defeat and capture of the traitors of the Hatut Zeraze. We | <|output|> <|example|> nodded curtly, making it clear that he was obeying, under protest, then stomped off to find the promised camp beds. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> "Wakanda thanks you for your assistance in the restoration of its legitimate government, the rout of its enemies and the defeat and capture of the traitors of the Hatut Zeraze <|indexes|> 0 0 | |
<|text|> are aware of the cost to you and extend our condolences. For this service we declare you and your allies friends of Wakanda in perpetuity."
The butt ends of the spear shafts hit the ground in unison with a hollow noise that shook the natural arena and possibly the buildings.
The next four days passed in a dream of pleasure. Even when they weren't naked in bed together, they usually managed to be skin to skin in some way, often just holding hands or cuddling together on the sofa. Tony felt that perhaps Steve had found some peace. Well, he hoped he had found some peace.
Oh, yes, Tony had asked for Jarvis to deploy the Mark 8. Just as well, Steve thought, because the suitcase armour might not have been advanced enough to protect them both from the explosion.
about a band of powerful wizards after the battle of New York, even during a memorably rowdy discussion about
"You can also tell me when you like something," he added, as a concession. "But no means no, for anyone, in any circumstance. Otherwise it's no deal. Promise?"
Painted on its nose was an A overlapping a circle, its crossbar terminating in an arrowhead. The font was that of the A that had been left on Stark Tower at the end of the battle for Manhattan, that was still there as a symbol of the building's new purpose, a statement of intent.
He'd been right; bursting in wearing the armour would have resulted in too many civilian casualties. As it was he had walked right into the sights of a woman in combat gear covering the elevator bank, though she had enough discipline not to fire. Another was watching the doors.
"Okay." Tony shoved himself up on his elbows. "Until I was sixteen I spent most of my time with Dad – I helped run the company, and a lot of our tech was mine. I didn't mix with other kids much. Then Dad died – or we thought he'd died – and I went to live with the Rhodes. But someone had tried to kill us both – had nearly killed me, and I thought they had killed Dad – and our company was being stolen out from under us. The CEO, Obadiah Stane, was using my tech and Dad's to build weapons. Dad had stopped arms production when I was born. He didn't want me to grow up in the shadow of a man who made weapons of mass destruction. Ironic isn't it? Because I built Iron Man and so spawned villains like Titanium Man and Iron Monger and the Mandroids. I didn't build any of them, but they were based on my tech. High school seemed unimportant compared with that. I'm an engineer so I used the battle suit I'd built to equalise the situation."
Tony lifted his head. Steve, with not even a towel to cover, well, anything, was striding across the room.
"We're going," Steve said, because that order was what he had been waiting for. He put the SUV into reverse and, instead of turning, put his | <|output|> <|example|> are aware of the cost to you and extend our condolences. For this service we declare you and your allies friends of Wakanda in perpetuity." <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> "
The butt ends of the spear shafts hit the ground in unison with a hollow noise that shook the natural arena and possibly the buildings <|indexes|> 0 0 | |
<|text|> foot to the floor and steered it backwards up the hill until out of range of the rifles.
They collapsed onto the long seat under the curving window, mouths locked together, kissing ferociously, hands seeking skin. Deliberately, Steve kneaded the muscles in the small of Tony's back.
"These might." Tony put a pile of printouts and a thumb drive carefully on Pepper's desk. "Production specs for the repulsor lifting gear. You just attach an even number of units to the sides of whatever you want to move. They've got a linked limited AI. No doubt the design department will want to add bells and whistles, which will leave you plenty of time to get the factory in Seattle to tool up, for marketing to put together a dog and pony show, and for you to start discreet negotiations with the military but I need you to hold back on the latter for at least a month."
When he got back to the Tower, he was slightly disappointed to find that Cap had, no doubt under Jarvis's direction, located and donned a black towelling robe which hid all that glorious muscle but did emphasise how fair he was and deepened the colour of his eyes. Tony might be in a committed relationship, but he was still, he was sure, allowed to look.
"No," Steve said. "The Leviathans crash-landed and the Chitauri troops collapsed before I gave the order to close the portal – it was how we knew Tony – Iron Man – had succeeded."
"You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?" Tony snarled, trying for real anger but only managing to fake it through his misery. "You're the last person who should go after Barnes. You must know that. You look at the Winter Soldier, see only Barnes, and your tactics are to let him beat you to a pulp – at the danger of letting hundreds of people die. It nearly got you killed the first time, damn it, and nearly got me killed the last time – both times. Oh, and just so you know, I'm the wrong person too, because of Mom and Dad and Rhodey and, god help me, you. And if you do you'll have the whole of the world's law enforcement on your tail. Again."
Though Steve claimed not to remember those dreams, they were obviously distressing. Not that Tony's own sleep was untroubled.
"Jarvis, keep it down," he ordered, his voice a forceful whisper, afraid of waking Tony, afraid of facing him. "What's this about?"
Steve moved his hand to the back of Tony's head, pulling him into a kiss, then wrapping his arms about him. Tony buried his face in his shoulder and hugged him back, but Steve was unable conceal his sharp intake of breath at the touch.
"Of course we're friends," Steve was horrified. "Working with you has been great, Tony, but my presence puts you in danger. I knew if I explained you'd try to make me change my mind, though I can't imagine why."
"Until I joined the diplomatic service," Ndungu said, with an air of confiding something | <|output|> <|example|> foot to the floor and steered it backwards up the hill until out of range of the rifles. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> "The Leviathans crash-landed and the Chitauri troops collapsed before I gave the order to close the portal – it was how we knew Tony – Iron Man – had succeeded <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> "What's this about?"
Steve moved his hand to the back of Tony's head, pulling him into a kiss, then wrapping his arms about him <|indexes|> 1 | |
<|text|> shameful, "I believed Wakanda to be nothing more than legend, something to give a frisson as you listened to a storyteller round the fire. I was wrong. Wakanda is a real place, a real society. It is why the countries of East Africa threw off the German and British yokes so easily. It is why we are more advanced technologically than other countries in Africa." His mouth twisted. "A gift, apparently, from Wakanda, which is, I am told, more technically advanced than any country in the world, even the one in which we stand. It is not a gift they share very often."
"Please be careful. For Bruce's sake. And I can't afford to lose any of those few friends I have left."
"I am always careful, particularly to make sure my enemies are no longer... able to be enemies," Thor replied, with no emotion in his voice. "I suggest you and the good Captain do the same."
He'd recognised the work of named artists from a distance, but he didn't know how he liked his coffee. It was desperately unsettling.
For once, Tony was proved wrong. An unlocked door opened into a tunnel, some ten feet wide, apparently running beneath the creek. Within fifty yards it started rising. A few feet further on they came across a control panel which Tony immediately recognised as similar to the one that lowered the ramp into the main tunnel leading from outside the valley to the laboratory complex. Seconds later, the wall at the end of the tunnel rolled to one side, and they walked out into the main tunnel to find themselves at the end of the ramp that led up into the storage complex. This was, plainly, the way Howard had used to bring in supplies.
Ah. This he could deal with. Dear John letters and their effect were something he knew about, had learned very quickly as the leader of his disparate band of cutthroats...
Steve was trembling. You couldn't see it, and the hands clasped in his lap were still, but Tony could feel the shake against his arm.
"No. But her name itself was memorable, as was she. Susan Storm. She was doing a Masters when I was in my freshman year."
It felt strangely intimate, just the two of them, sitting with only the table corner between them; strange because he, like all the other residents of the Towe, occasionally took food down to eat with Tony, or Bruce, before Betty had joined him. Perhaps it was because there was no voice of Jarvis to make a third in the conversation.
With all his security activated behind him, Tony felt a rush of relieved tension as the computer displays came to life and the bots trundled out to greet him.
"You can tell Fury I'm wise to his little tricks." Steve obviously felt he had plumbed the depths of Fury's duplicity and Tony hoped he was right. He suspected that this had been the woman who had been instructed to impersonate Peggy on the phone – and then turn up in person, pretending to be some sort | <|output|> <|example|> shameful, "I believed Wakanda to be nothing more than legend, something to give a frisson as you listened to a storyteller round the fire. I was wrong. Wakanda is a real place, a real society. It is why the countries of East Africa threw off the German and British yokes so easily. It is why we are more advanced technologically than other countries in Africa." His mouth twisted. "A gift, apparently, from Wakanda, which is, I am told, more technically advanced than any country in the world, even the one in which we stand. It is not a gift they share very often." <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> Susan Storm <|indexes|> 0 | |
<|text|> of relative – this Sharon person, presumably. Only Steve hadn't called her. Was that why Fury had called Steve, and only Steve here, so he could form a connection with her? Only it seemed it hadn't worked, Tony thought smugly, as, ignoring the woman, Captain America turned to Iron Man.
Because that was how SHIELD was playing this now. Of course, the World Security Council, the governments they represented and therefore, presumably, SHIELD wouldn't want anyone to know they'd been ready and willing to nuke New York.
She remembered, but from the look on her face she hadn't thought that he did, though she said nothing. She was, he knew, waiting for him to finish lining up his accusations so that she could shoot them down, instead of weakening her position by arguing each detail. He'd have to push harder to break that composure.
He concentrated hard on the voice, on the warm fingers gripping his arms, the strength that seemed to flow into him from them, the need...
But he was also all too aware that Quantum Theory could not be reconciled with Relativity, the infinitesimal with the infinite. On the levels humanity and galaxies existed, space and time were intertwined and measurable, while at quantum levels of size, neither appeared to exist.
"You're only peeved because you didn't build it first," Steve told him. Relieved, he turned towards the woman he had rescued, but as he did so he spotted something unusual moving just above his head. Instantly, he snatched it from the air.
The beam hit the doors, filling the cavern was filled with thunderous noise, everything except the doors themselves shaking as if in an earthquake, throwing down an avalanche of stone from roof and walls.
Tony flinched, but his voice was perfectly normal now as he protested, "Watch it, Rogers. Saving my life doesn't give you licence to cop a feel." His breathing was regular now, too and the ribs beneath cotton and skin hadn't felt broken or even cracked, though Tony was plainly badly bruised. It didn't seem worth pushing it, at the moment at any rate.
Tony began to feel panicked. "General Fury was using her to enlist my co-operation," he said. "If he only wants her for that, she's better off leaving SHIELD now. Though I certainly want a recording of what happens when she confronts him about it."
He hurriedly dropped his hand, all too aware of the heat rising into his face, but he didn't have a chance to stumble through an apology because Jan threw herself at him.
Okoye stared at him in surprise. "I had almost forgotten. Yes, you should go, and quickly. It will be at the vibranium mine – for all we know they are stealing our wealth even as we stand here."
With those words, memory came flooding back: riding through White Plains on his way to Yonkers, the police sirens, the screaming, parking the bike at the edge of chaos, snatching up his shield and running to help, the flying blades slicing heads and limbs, nothing – flesh and bone and granite and concrete and steel – | <|output|> <|example|> of relative – this Sharon person, presumably. Only Steve hadn't called her. Was that why Fury had called Steve, and only Steve here, so he could form a connection with her? Only it seemed it hadn't worked, Tony thought smugly, as, ignoring the woman, Captain America turned to Iron Man. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> He'd have to push harder to break that composure <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> The beam hit the doors, filling the cavern was filled with thunderous noise, everything except the doors themselves shaking as if in an earthquake, throwing down an avalanche of stone from roof and walls <|indexes|> 1 | |
<|text|> slowing them down, one youth cut in half in front of his eyes. He'd used his shield to fend them away, the vibranium steel alloy proving effective in a way nothing else had done, to help those few survivors out of the building. Going back inside had been a mistake, and he'd thought he might not get out again. Just in time, Iron Man had arrived and the team forged in repelling attacks by renegades, aliens and gods was immediately in place.
"None of us expect to die," Steve pointed out while doing some quick mental arithmetic. "But he must have been in his seventies."
"Stark, your reactor destroyed my helicarrier." The 'what are you gonna do about it?' was left unspoken.
"Meanwhile, how are you feeling? Not that I'm not in awe of the effects of Erskine's serum, but should you be out of bed?"
"Fine," Tony said, coughing water. "C'n swim... better than... you can." He pulled away from Steve, swam to the edge of the pool and climbed out, appropriating Steve's fallen towel.
The flattened notes of an unknown (to Steve) melody from a cell phone promptly broke the mood, whatever the mood had been.
"Still unable to locate anything even on the infra-red sensors except the odd crocodile, sir, and no land to speak of. If I go lower, my sensors are blocked by interference."
There was no mist. The image was clear in his mind as if he was seeing it with his eyes: it was Tony, yet a Tony who was constantly changing, tall and short, now a even younger Tony than the one he knew, now with lines around his eyes and grey at his temples, eyes blue and grey and even a dark brown, clean shaven, with a hairline moustache like his father's, with a short beard, there in an instant and gone at once, in the armour, so many different types of armour, in business suits, in jeans and tee-shirt, in some sort of uniform with far too much white about it to be suitable, with strange device after strange device buried in his chest, and it was followed by older, stranger images...
He rolled over and onto one elbow, stifling a yelp as, for a moment his vision fogged with unexpected pain.
"He should be at his full strength within a few days, according to my mother. For the moment, though, he needs your care rather than your anger."
White Wolf spoke again, and this time Okoye drew a sharp breath. "Captain – Steve – he is going to prove the heart-shaped herb's efficacy by showing that T'Challa can ingest it but an outsider cannot. He accuses Mr Stark of blasphemy, of plotting against Wakanda, the Panther Tribe and the Panther God, and of bribing my Lord to allow him to produce artificial vibranium in defiance of the Panther god and against the interests of Wakanda. For this... for this he says that Mr Stark is sentenced to death, and that all this will be proved when he... when he eats the heart-shaped herb... Captain, he will die. And if the outsider's | <|output|> <|example|> slowing them down, one youth cut in half in front of his eyes. He'd used his shield to fend them away, the vibranium steel alloy proving effective in a way nothing else had done, to help those few survivors out of the building. Going back inside had been a mistake, and he'd thought he might not get out again. Just in time, Iron Man had arrived and the team forged in repelling attacks by renegades, aliens and gods was immediately in place. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> If I go lower, my sensors are blocked by interference <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> Going back inside had been a mistake, and he'd thought he might not get out again <|indexes|> 1 1 1 <|example|> "
"Stark, your reactor destroyed my helicarrier <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> "C'n swim <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> " The 'what are you gonna do about it?' was left unspoken <|indexes|> 4 | |
<|text|> drug works... Hunter will triumph and my Lord will never live to regain his wits." She made a move forward, but Steve held her back. "Wait."
And (Ooh God, Pepper, I love you) Pepper had, without being asked, anticipated him and intercepted Fury.
"In the workshop," Jarvis said, with an air of satisfaction that suggested that that had been what he was aiming for all along.
Steve shook his head. "Fury drops by occasionally. I'm pretty sure they keep a watch on me, but it's not usually this overt."
"Thank you," Steve said dryly. "You too, Betty. Before the police arrest you both for being in breach of California's carry laws."
Tony heard nothing, but Thor plainly did, for after a short pause he continued, "That does not matter to me. If the Allfather did not choose to pursue you then, I doubt he will do so now. But you may have to answer to me..." The voice was very close now.
Howard took his time about answering and Tony just knew he was phrasing his answer in response to the note of panic in his own voice. "He's having trouble connecting with his past – with the records of his past. The superhero stuff."
"In this hidden lab I have stored the original Vita-ray equipment and its design specifications. Everyone thinks I destroyed it, but I couldn't bring myself to do it, even though all my experiments show that, without the serum, it has no discernible effect. Now, though... now I no longer trust my own judgement. I'm putting my faith in yours."
"Of course. She said that you were a very polite young man – that's good for a ninety-something old man, right? – and that you ate a lot and had better taste in art than I do."
if anyone else tries," Tony reassured him. "The damages I demand are going to be enormous. They may fund the Avengers for the next ten years. Okay, Jarvis, let's have the rest of it."
Tony must have heard it anyway, because he said, "I trust you. But then I trusted Pep – and they're not all
However, he was just pleasantly buzzed when she appeared at his elbow, her glare dislodging the half dozen field agents (and boy, did Fury pick 'em for their looks or what?) who had been listening to him with gratifying attention. The hand gripping his arm tightened alarmingly when he resisted her pull towards the door. Next, no doubt, it would be the stiletto on his foot, though why she thought crippling him would make him walk faster defied normal logic...
Tony gave a wonderful impression of a bird whose feathers had been ruffled; neck lifted and chin down, hair seeming to bristle. "I – am – not – kind. Playboys don't do kindness. It's not in the job description."
"No they aren't. HUD is dark..." Even as he spoke, Tony realised if that the problem wasn't electronic, it could be biological.
Steve bit back his retort. He should have realised how wound-up Tony was, recognised the tension, fear and guilt that was prompting this ... what was the modern | <|output|> <|example|> drug works... Hunter will triumph and my Lord will never live to regain his wits." She made a move forward, but Steve held her back. "Wait." <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> Steve shook his head <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> "
Tony heard nothing, but Thor plainly did, for after a short pause he continued, "That does not matter to me <|indexes|> 1 1 1 <|example|> But then I trusted Pep – and they're not all
However, he was just pleasantly buzzed when she appeared at his elbow, her glare dislodging the half dozen field agents (and boy, did Fury pick 'em for their looks or what?) who had been listening to him with gratifying attention <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> Steve bit back his retort <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> "
Tony must have heard it anyway, because he said, "I trust you <|indexes|> 4 <|example|> "
Tony must have heard it anyway, because he said, "I trust you <|indexes|> 5 | |
<|text|> term?... 'inappropriate behaviour'? But he couldn't deal with it now, not when their Wakandan warrior was watching them with a faint air of amusement. Instead he said, deadpan, "Okay, suit yourself." That made Tony laugh, defusing the tension. He shed both jackets, then reached for the buttons of the outer of the two shirts he was wearing.
Bruce considered the suggestion with his usual gravity. "Yes," he said at last, "I rather think I do. Also, I'm worried about the fact that Tony was in Seattle when that creature appeared there."
"Oh," Steve said again, feeling totally deflated. He'd misread everything, misread Tony. The remaining anger was draining away, leaving nothing but the guilt and shame. "And I... What I did to you— Christ, why are you still talking to me?"
"We were supposed to meet up," Bruce said. "When we got here the windows of his apartment were dark. Tony armoured up and went to take a look. He broke in and the place exploded. I take it you didn't see anything, Tony?"
"None of which explains why you're here – why the Avengers are involved," but Storm sounded far less aggressive. "If they are."
"In addition, he told me Washington's buzzing with rumours. Hurricanes don't just come to a grinding halt for hours, then suddenly change course and head off into the Atlantic, where they fizzle out. Add in the reports of both Thor and Iron Man seen separately heading into the storm—"
"Thank you for the loan of the apartment, sir, but I think it's time I moved on. And right now my only concern is my injured team-mate."
"And now you're accusing me of trying to murder you for your money. What happened to you in Africa, Tony? Brainwashing?"
He certainly hadn't been capable of undressing himself, so Steve must have done it... and he wasn't sure, right at this minute whether he was annoyed about that or the fact that Steve had left him his boxers, which sorta diminished the hotness and he shouldn't be thinking that being undressed by Captain America was hot, even if he hadn't woken up—
"Convince a Federal judge that you have reason under law to demand a warrant, then we'll talk," Roberta said. "Meanwhile, you undoubtedly have a sample of Captain America's DNA – I intend to subpoena you to produce it so we can compare it with that of any man you claim to be him, and we'll have an answer as to who he is or is not once and for all. But that does not mean we will hand anyone who is not a criminal over to you."
Tony abruptly dropped his hands. "And exhaust yourself even more carrying its weight? That's supposed to be better? Steve, please don't make me order Jarvis to keep you confined here."
"And, Steve, if you're listening, no jumping out of the plane like you did on that pirate caper – you'll hit terminal velocity and I'm not kiddin' about the terminal. Iron Man out."
His suit computer responded to his order, activating the infrared sensors, searching for a man – a super soldier | <|output|> <|example|> term?... 'inappropriate behaviour'? But he couldn't deal with it now, not when their Wakandan warrior was watching them with a faint air of amusement. Instead he said, deadpan, "Okay, suit yourself." That made Tony laugh, defusing the tension. He shed both jackets, then reached for the buttons of the outer of the two shirts he was wearing. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> "When we got here the windows of his apartment were dark <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> "
"And, Steve, if you're listening, no jumping out of the plane like you did on that pirate caper – you'll hit terminal velocity and I'm not kiddin' about the terminal <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> term? <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> Tony armoured up and went to take a look <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> term? <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> "
"And, Steve, if you're listening, no jumping out of the plane like you did on that pirate caper – you'll hit terminal velocity and I'm not kiddin' about the terminal <|indexes|> 5 | |
<|text|> – with an abnormally high body temperature.
"No, let him be, Steve," Jan said firmly. "You were right – Jim Rhodes is vulnerable, a career officer who is considered too close to Tony and blamed by some folks at the Pentagon for 'letting' Tony quit the arms industry. The fact that he's also African-American is a... disadvantage... in dealing with some people too. Tony knows all this, and will remember it when he gets control of his temper."
been played, that Ultron actually came from the Mind Stone. And we got the Vision. And without Vision, Ultron would still be in play, and none of us would be.
Tony might have scoffed at this extraordinary claim, save that the Wakandan was now weaving them through the jumble of trees and vines at blinding speed. He was glad he couldn't see much of what was around them.
He could see the haze over LA now, below and to his left, and he adjusted his course slightly to swing out over the Pacific. He had timed it just right: the sun was sinking low, laying down dazzling light on the waves.
A silver-coloured humanoid figure, superficially like the Iron Man but not, in fact, like it at all, was pacing the Ferrari, some forty feet above it. Tony grinned to himself, then lifted one hand from the wheel and gave the figure a wave.
"And I told you it didn't make a difference. Why do you think Jarvis and I had this set up? We suspected the Avengers would attract the wrong kind of attention. That room – built to hold anything up to the Hulk, with Bruce's advice – was the first thing I put in when we started rebuilding. I don't know what this bunch want from you, Cap, but after the eStarkStore incident it's clear
There was an uncomfortable pause. This time, Steve knew better than to try to fill it. Tony was plainly on a roll.
Already, the interior was seriously spooky as the unibeam reflected from clouds of mud particles. He tried to treat it as some weird computer game, that should have made the occasional body floating in the water easier to deal with. When their guts weren't floating beside them, that was.
"You mean trust your robots not to lose it? No, Tony. And the armour will draw attention to this place."
Storm muttered something that sounded like, "Too early," but Steve persisted, hauling him to his feet and hustling him into the aisle.
At least the suit computer had warned him to close his eyes when he had fired the unibeam at full power.
"Tony invited T'Challa to join the Avengers," Jan said. "He accepted, on the basis that we could call on each other in need."
"So Howard said. Tell him we want to see him soon, Tony. We miss both of you." She slapped her hand on the roof of the SUV, and Tony gunned the engine.
Steve heard harsh breathing, then a voice, much higher pitched than the Hulk's usual growl, saying, "Giant Cap help Hulk?"
Except for something he shouldn't have, memories of Tony that seemed to | <|output|> <|example|> – with an abnormally high body temperature. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> Tell him we want to see him soon, Tony <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> I don't know what this bunch want from you, Cap, but after the eStarkStore incident it's clear
There was an uncomfortable pause <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> "
Storm muttered something that sounded like, "Too early," but Steve persisted, hauling him to his feet and hustling him into the aisle <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> That room – built to hold anything up to the Hulk, with Bruce's advice – was the first thing I put in when we started rebuilding <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> disadvantage <|indexes|> 4 <|example|> disadvantage <|indexes|> 5 | |
<|text|> belong to more than one person...
Steve put his hands on his knees and leant his weight on them. He took time to catch his breath. "Who the hell are these people? And why were they trying to break in here?"
The Ferrari lay upside down at the bottom of the arroyo as the War Machine swooped towards it. Tony saw the guns click out, and curled into a ball, covering his ears with his hands as the incendiaries hit the gas tank.
" And now, she said, I'd started bringing home friends who were just as destructive and obsessed as I was without even asking her... I'd acquired one too many obsessions, apparently. Final straw, and all that." Tony drained the highball glass. "I knew she'd leave me eventually. Everyone does, if not always voluntarily. Where's the bottle—?" Steve caught movement out of the corner of his eye and was halfway to his feet with his shield out of its case when confronted with the sight of one of Tony's attendant robots, which seemed to consist of a metal arm on wheels, waving the whisky bottle in its ... hand? Pincers?
Bruce – in his new Hulk form – had had to resort to reason and Strange's prophecy to get the Ancient One to lend him the Time Stone. If Hulk couldn't defeat her, what chance did he have in this debilitated state of defeating a room full of Stranges?
"Ha! Malibu is not LaLa land – it's much worse," Tony told her. "And you can never interrupt, so don't apologise. I never do."
"Then invite him up, feed him my best Bourbon – which appears to be his drink of choice – and try to find out. Or maybe you'd better get Jan to do it."
The voice brought a rush of relief sweeping through him, along with warmth and attraction. Not that any of those made sense.
"We rescued each other," Shuri said seriously. Steve was sure that, despite her youth, no one but Natasha could match her poise. "But my brother will, I am sure, reward you for allowing us to complete it."
As they started towards it, mental alarms began blaring through the pleasant alcoholic haze. There was something wrong about Happy's position in the front seat, about the fact that he was not already out of the car with the passenger door open for them
"I know little more than I have told you. But the future of this branch of the time stream is not what it was before, and new possibilities are opening at every moment. And you came here for my help." For the first time, the Ancient One looked at where Steve lay unconscious on the couch. "Firstly, we will do our best to look after your friend, and then—"
Tony did not look at him. "Holding my breath," he said shortly. "More than that just isn't your business, Steve."
"Of course." Tony signalled for T'Challa to follow him, and the two of them hurried into a corner of the parking lot.
Howard sighed. "I suspect that conversation isn't going that well. Though it is | <|output|> <|example|> belong to more than one person... <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> "I knew she'd leave me eventually <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> " Tony signalled for T'Challa to follow him, and the two of them hurried into a corner of the parking lot <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 <|example|> Steve put his hands on his knees and leant his weight on them <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> Everyone does, if not always voluntarily <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> "
The voice brought a rush of relief sweeping through him, along with warmth and attraction <|indexes|> 4 <|example|> Steve put his hands on his knees and leant his weight on them <|indexes|> 5 5 | |
<|text|> time Tony faced up to having to deal with relationships. He went along with Pepper, who's in love with him, or thinks she is, because that was the easiest thing to do. So he needs to face the consequences, however painful they are."
Some of that paperwork – and it would be paper – might still exist somewhere, though his father had somehow gotten his hands on most of it and Jarvis had wiped all the computer records. He didn't think these guys had any of it.
There was pause while Pepper digested that 'we're both' and its implications. Then she asked, "Has he told you—?"
"Yes, Ms Van Dyne." Jarvis's voice from the air made everyone except Steve and Jan herself jump. "The express elevator will be with you shortly."
He still didn't feel good about it but the dizziness receded as he wolfed down the candy bars. He also took the first aid kit for later use, and the currency which was, well, just bills with unknown faces on them. He could read the figures, though.
"Sir," Jarvis said urgently. "The vehicle was a diversion. Seven contacts, all reading baseline human, are making their way towards the portal."
"There was something outside – above the lake – a moving light. It looked like it was heading for—" He paused as realisation hit him. "It looked like it was heading for the cemetery."
"...so, that's the situation," Steve said, having laid out the options in as few and simple words as possible. Tony found himself reluctantly impressed. "The final decision remains mine and Tony's, but—"
"Nope. Let's try the back door first." Tony banked towards the sheer crags on the southern face of the mountain. And there was the outcrop that looked like a crouching bat, wings folded, and, above it, three twisted trees.
"As a consultant. Technical consultant. Same as Dad did. And with the helicarrier at the bottom of the Sound I can't be held to repair or upgrade it."
"Thank you," Tony said quietly. "Cap has a healing factor, but it doesn't seem to the working right now."
"Supposedly to see Dad, but letting him realise I was trying to find information about Bruce, while actually—"
"Tony," Steve said, in gentle rebuke. "I'm sorry, Agent Carter, but, as you can see, I didn't need your help. That's been clear for a while. So what was I supposed to do? Fall for you because you look exactly like Peggy?"
"Between the explosion and the Hulk, every electronic circuit in the place has been blown," Tony told him. "We're out of touch with the outside world."
"Hailing frequencies open, sir," the AI said, with more ennui than Nichelle Nichols could possibly have managed even in one of her most bored moment.
Tony was unfazed, his eyes still on the tablet, fingers flying over virtual keys. "I sank her most potent weapon, she sank me in return," he said offhandedly. "But she was already in flight and didn't stop to make sure. We both got away. Pretty much a draw."
The partnership of Iron Man and Captain America – whatever he or the US government wanted the | <|output|> <|example|> time Tony faced up to having to deal with relationships. He went along with Pepper, who's in love with him, or thinks she is, because that was the easiest thing to do. So he needs to face the consequences, however painful they are." <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> We both got away <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> "The final decision remains mine and Tony's, but—"
"Nope <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> Then she asked, "Has he told you—?"
"Yes, Ms Van Dyne <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> He could read the figures, though <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> Let's try the back door first <|indexes|> 4 4 | |
<|text|> public to call him – dealt firmly with previously untouchable mobsters, stopped a minor war between two megalomaniacal (and oil rich) dictators and eliminated an outbreak of piracy in the Gulf of Mexico.
"If that is the War Machine armour then you can't damage it with a handgun – even a Stark handgun," he pointed out.
Steve ignored this persiflage. "If these reports are to be believed the whole continent is swarming with unknown beasts. I'm surprised you don't have one as a pet."
"But it stacks up Stark Industries against a lot of powerful enemies. Natasha has a scary list of them."
The woman was not, as Tony had expected, Chinese or Tibetan; her features were too angular, with no encephalic folds. Right now they were expressionless, but her eyes, green as the Time Stone, pale as her skin, were as cold as frost on grass. They were full of the pain of knowledge and, perhaps, an intellect that matched his own.
He was desperately vulnerable without the armour. Except Tony was wearing the backpack that he had said contained the armour and was carrying it as if it weighed nothing. Tony, according to Howard, had himself been enhanced by something called Extremis.
For that he would need Tony's help, couldn't imagine solving the problem without that brilliant mind working on it. Only telling him what he believed would be stabbing him to the heart.
And there had been times, recently, when his old instincts had started to stir, to suggest that there was something trailing him in the shadows.
Tony felt a surge of rage at the defiling of that perfect body. "What the hell happened to you?" he snarled.
I believe you – and I wouldn't trust you if God himself appeared to verify what you're saying – then you still haven't plugged that leak in your organisation."
There was no flash, no impact of a lightning strike, but in that instant, the readings on the HUD and Tony's view of the world blinked out.
"He was," the Ancient One said, seemingly unconcerned, but she rose to her feet in a swirl of robes. "We all need to think carefully about what is to be done and how it can be done. Ring for tea. We shall be back shortly." She signaled to Tony and Natasha to follow her and swept out of the room.
"She didn't ask about the artefact specifically, but she did ask if you and I were in touch. I thought she was playing away and didn't want you to know. I'm sorry."
"It's as far as I'll go in compromise, Steve," he said. "Either that or I'm going to pick you up and carry you."
"I'm not worried about either you or Happy," Gene retorted, but he was also smiling. "I am annoyed about you not warning me you were tussling with Yogthulu."
"But not his memories. All I have are traces of memory of you or someone like you that I can't even access without the help of a telepath. And the real Captain America was brain dead. Something happened, Tony, to put my mind in his body. | <|output|> <|example|> public to call him – dealt firmly with previously untouchable mobsters, stopped a minor war between two megalomaniacal (and oil rich) dictators and eliminated an outbreak of piracy in the Gulf of Mexico. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> Except Tony was wearing the backpack that he had said contained the armour and was carrying it as if it weighed nothing <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> "
"I'm not worried about either you or Happy," Gene retorted, but he was also smiling <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> "If that is the War Machine armour then you can't damage it with a handgun – even a Stark handgun," he pointed out <|indexes|> 2 | |
<|text|> I need to find out who did it."
"Ah, yes, the half-as-strong-twice-as-angry version of the Hulk the World Security Council wanted on the Avengers Initiative," Tony said. Then: "Yes, yes, lieutenant, I'm listening," to someone whose voice Steve couldn't hear, presumably on another frequency. Local law enforcement, Steve supposed, though he had no idea what organisation that might be.
"No? Tell me you haven't got your shield. And that's the Harley Dad built for you. I've taken out SHIELD's bugs by the way—"
Surfacing at last, the fugitive – who still wasn't sure what he was a fugitive from – shook water from eyes that stung with mud and salt. He had already swallowed too much of it, and his mouth tasted foul in the aftermath. Behind him, the bulk of what-ever-it-was that had crashed with him was submerged, and what remained above the surface was close-to-invisible in the darkness.
Steve snuggled as close as he could. He'd huddled for warmth in the Alpine cold with members of the Howling Commandos often enough, and been grateful for the protection of battledress and blankets, for the most part. Now he was naked, the sheets smooth and sensuous against his skin, as was Tony's T-shirt against his cheek. Not as sensuous though, as Tony's calloused hands on his back, skin on skin, the softer brush of the hair on his arms, his own skin ultra-sensitive to every touch, every small movement magnified, each nerve ending seemingly connected straight to his groin. He was suddenly very glad that the lower part of his body was hidden under the sheets.
Pepper was chewing on her lower lip, a sure sign of her distress. "SHIELD's been keeping you alive, not trying to kill you."
The shock of sexual desire which shot straight to stomach and groin was unexpected – and unacceptable.
"Someone should have told all of us – all the Avengers – that. And a lot of other things. SHIELD edited the files they gave me to paint Bruce, Thor and particularly Tony in the worst possible light. I expect the ones Tony and Bruce got were carefully edited as—""
"If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret. Besides, it's for the Avengers." Tony ruffled Steve's hair with one hand and abstracted a slice of toast from his plate with the other while Steve was making vague gestures of protest. He swept out in satisfied silence.
Maybe what had thrown him earlier was that Pepper looked so grown-up. It was certainly a contrast to the way she had looked when he had escorted her to the Tomorrow Academy High School prom – and then abandoned her for an emergency that had needed Iron Man. Today she had stalked out of the elevator in a designer dress, immaculate make-up that hid her hated freckles and four-inch heels. Well, she was going to get a shock if she thought they would make her taller than him.
Steve's heart unaccountably started racing as Tony reached into the bag with his left hand and drew out a rectangular object about eighteen inches long. It appeared to be made of | <|output|> <|example|> I need to find out who did it." <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> Besides, it's for the Avengers <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> Besides, it's for the Avengers <|indexes|> 1 | |
<|text|> dull blue metal, inlaid with inscriptions or possibly simply designs in what could have been oxidised copper. Near each end was a circle or button, one green, one blue, each about an inch in diameter, set flush with the metal. Beyond that, the artefact narrowed and changed from a square section to a circular one, in what might have been handgrips and would certainly serve as them.
"That's one of the reasons she's never liked me," Jan said gently, "though she managed to hide it well enough when we only met maybe a couple of times a year and usually had a whole continent between us."
The young woman grinned at him, threw the drapes wide, disconnected the alarm system with an ease that screamed both long practice and electronic expertise, and opened the window.
"No flag, just slapped some stickers on it: property of the USAF," the engineer replied promptly, disconcerting Tony, who had come to the conclusion that Rhodey's sense of humour was pretty much unique amongst middle to higher rank military.
"This is where I worked," Iron Man corrected, no emphasis in the distorted voice, "and it's where I'm going to work for the next few hours. Go to bed, Cap. Up the spiral steps, two flights. I'm sure Ann-Marie bought you some pyjamas – at least, I asked her to."
Tony called Virgil Potts from inside the stealth armour, which did not make him feel any safer or less acutely nervous.
But Tony had been kind to him, rescued him, taken him in, and accepted him without question. So had Howard. Why had he trusted the son from the first while he still felt uneasy about the father?
It was not Tony but their driver who responded. "Well observed. Open the side locker and you will find bows and arrows, if you can use them."
While Steve had had to admire the way Tony had sneakily passed on the first aid chores to the security guards, in order to distract them from investigating the arroyo or what Iron Man was doing in it, he was not about to let him get away with sidelining him again. The first time had been annoying enough, even though he would have been of little use to Tony in the dark, as he didn't have a personal light in his chest and an armoured suit to protect him. Nor could he let Tony know how much pain he was in right now, any more than he had then.
"It convinced me that you came by your vibranium honestly, if in a manner disturbing for our security." The Panther paused, then added, "It seemed that we were in danger of being overtaken by your new technology, of losing the advantage that being a source of natural vibranium could give us. I... the King and his Council began to consider whether we should approach you to offer to supply your vibranium ourselves."
There was silence for a while, except for the dull clack of the keyboard. During it, Steve systematically searched the room, growing more and more puzzled as he failed to find what | <|output|> <|example|> dull blue metal, inlaid with inscriptions or possibly simply designs in what could have been oxidised copper. Near each end was a circle or button, one green, one blue, each about an inch in diameter, set flush with the metal. Beyond that, the artefact narrowed and changed from a square section to a circular one, in what might have been handgrips and would certainly serve as them. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> "It convinced me that you came by your vibranium honestly, if in a manner disturbing for our security <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> Beyond that, the artefact narrowed and changed from a square section to a circular one, in what might have been handgrips and would certainly serve as them <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> "Well observed <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> Near each end was a circle or button, one green, one blue, each about an inch in diameter, set flush with the metal <|indexes|> 4 4 | |
<|text|> he was looking for.
"You were caught in the shock wave, Mr Stark. We can't let you fly until the doctors have certified you're fit to pilot the suit."
But, suddenly, Jan was standing in front of him, her hands fisted in his shirt. "You can't go, Steve. Tony would never forgive either of us – and you can't put yourself in the hands of the men who intended to sell your dead body."
"That's the point. I don't know. But they're hostile. Like Alien queen hostile. So if you should happen to reconstruct it, call me before you switch it on. You never know what might be on the other side – including an angry Hulk."
Hill's dark eyes fixed on his face. "But that's not why Fury asked me to talk to you. That's more about these... space-dragons—"
"Of course I mean someone other than me," Tony said, with dignity. "What's more, unlike me, they didn't do it the first night when SHIELD had so much on its plate. They did it when the whole area was under close guard."
Encouraged, Tony went on, "Well, you do make me feel like a horny eighteen-year-old, though right now it's more like a horny eighty-year-old. Something to do with being dragged out of an exploding Ferrari and rolling down a hillside. Is this what you call sympathy, Rogers?"
Tony jumped out of the driver's seat and peered over his sunglasses at them. "Don't you kids have classes?"
It was at that moment that Pepper kicked his ankle, which he wouldn't have been able to feel if she hadn't been wearing armour too. As it was, the noise made all three of them jump and every person in the office look up from their phones. It was only then that Tony realised that the room had been silent for some time as everyone listened to their conversation.
"For what it's worth, I didn't think much of Captain America when I first met him but Steve Rogers converted me."
"No, I didn't." Janet smiled impishly at Steve. "I'm making too much money from it." Her brow wrinkled. "Steve Rogers? Are you kidding me, Tony?"
"But I am of this universe. As are you. As is my uncle Dormammu. He may not love me, but he would regard an attack on me as a grave insult to the Dark Dimension."
"When I tell you not to touch something, you don't touch it!" Tony yelled. He had to shove his hands in his pockets to stop himself hitting Pepper – and when had he wanted to hit any of his friends? Leave alone Pep?
"I swear we didn't know. We weren't even sure that there really was a terrorist arms dump, but Barton and Romanoff insisted on going in because of Stark's connection to the Ten Rings—"
"He sees all things, including this strange weather. The Rainbow Bridge is recently repaired, and I needed but my father's permission to come to your aid. When I heard the villain boasting he had slain you, I feared that had taken too long."
"The girl was probably Whitney," Tony said. "She must have stolen | <|output|> <|example|> he was looking for. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> "For what it's worth, I didn't think much of Captain America when I first met him but Steve Rogers converted me <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> " Janet smiled impishly at Steve <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> "You can't go, Steve <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> "But that's not why Fury asked me to talk to you <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> "You were caught in the shock wave, Mr Stark <|indexes|> 4 | |
<|text|> the ring to try and make up for not finding the artefact. Did you tell her I had it? She turned up at home with a Doombot in tow. Dad and Steve destroyed that one and took her into custody."
"You tell me the temperature you require and the force of the spray, sir, what shower gel or shampoo you require, and when you wish the spray switched on and off. In this case, might I suggest a temperature of 105 degrees Fahrenheit, with a medium strength spray working up to strong, with perhaps a half-second cold pulse when you require it? I will make sure that the spray is directed away from your wound."
Tony's eyebrows shot up, probably because Steve had, almost from the beginning, been excused from following the 'don't hand me things rule' but he switched it on, and rested it on his knees as it booted.
"No you don't," Steve said. "You need Captain America. And I can't be him anymore. I won't sign the Accords, Tony. I can't, and if you have to wait on the UN to approve your strategy, you're going to lose."
"Vanish?" Tony raised an eyebrow. "Aren't they a bit big to be looted? I know half the locals have grabbed guns or those air-sleds as souvenirs and I suspect there are dead Chitauri bodies in quite a few freezers. If you need to track any of those down I'd look on e-Bay. Mind you, I wouldn't put anything past—"
For a few moments, a few tight breaths, it seemed that nothing would happen, then something moved in the dim light of the ARC reactor, and a brighter, yellower glow spilled out from a widening doorway. Before Tony could say anything Steve was already in front of him, outlined against the light, stepping forward with complete confidence into whatever lay beyond.
Steve thought about it. "If this one of Tony's houses then Jarvis – his computer butler – will be awake and aware of us, even if Tony himself is half a world away," he said. "Guess he recognised you."
Jan shuddered elaborately. "So eighties, darling. Cutie over there took him down." She nodded to where Okoye was crouched beside T'Challa, who was sitting on the steps of the temple." She was speaking urgently to him in Wakandan but he did not seem to hear her.
Steve sighed. He knew that that reflection of his own arrogance would provoke Tony and, indeed, as soon as he had extracted himself, his partner glared at their rescuer, who had turned in his seat and was watching them with a faint air of amusement.
The woman standing behind Howard – Roberta? – stepped forward. "You did not come here looking for a dead body," she pointed out, her voice soft but assured. It occurred to Steve that it was a voice that would lull you into a false sense of security, if you happened to be opposed it its owner.
"Damn right you'll show them to me," Steve snapped, each word bitten out in controlled anger, a voice of command. "I want to know everything. | <|output|> <|example|> the ring to try and make up for not finding the artefact. Did you tell her I had it? She turned up at home with a Doombot in tow. Dad and Steve destroyed that one and took her into custody." <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 <|example|> Cutie over there took him down <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> "Aren't they a bit big to be looted? I know half the locals have grabbed guns or those air-sleds as souvenirs and I suspect there are dead Chitauri bodies in quite a few freezers <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> "
Tony's eyebrows shot up, probably because Steve had, almost from the beginning, been excused from following the 'don't hand me things rule' but he switched it on, and rested it on his knees as it booted <|indexes|> 3 3 | |
<|text|> What you know of my – of Captain America's past, about SHIELD, about Fury, about this Doom character. I need to know what I'm in the middle of here."
Happy, bless him, drove directly into Tony's private garage from which Steve took the equally private elevator to the penthouse. He was squelching towards the guest suite he had been occupying, when the door to his left – the door to Tony's bedroom, though he had never been through it – opened and a woman's voice said, "Tony, is that—oh."
Tony lay along one of the penthouse's long leather sofas, head pillowed on a cushion, eyes closed, a glass containing the remains of a small brandy and large soda – a compromise finally agreed with Bruce – balanced on his chest and listened to his team-mates chew over the puzzling events of the day.
"You were the man in Washington, the one who hacked my systems!" Tony exclaimed, half in anger, half in admiration and wholly as a distraction because Steve could not answer without giving away his identity.
Steve changed his grip, bringing up the shield to protect himself and Jan, who was still perched on his shoulder.
"And maybe that would be true, sir. I'm sorry. All the same, I didn't do anything that could be taken as dumping her. Not without a lot of imagination."
"Hi, Bruce, how's it going?" he asked, when his friend's image appeared. "Pleased with your presents?"
Suddenly, the cliff was illuminated, the edges of the rocks sharp against the shadows of the clefts and in the deepest of those shadows shone a brighter rectangle that could only be a door.
It was not an argument Steve could deal with right now, but it told him something astonishing about Tony's feelings for him. He said: "If you feel like that, why did you reject me last night?" and if his voice wobbled a little, it was no more than Tony's had done.
Steve was shaking his head. "We don't want a fight where civilians might get hurt. Or where Bruce has to call out the Hulk."
"Stay down," Okoye ordered. "When I go ashore it will mean that the last of the stragglers have landed on the beach. Wait for three hundred breaths, then follow me. I might pass for a member of the Panther tribe, but you could not even pass for White Wolf himself."
Everything had gone with such astonishing smoothness, from the traffic jam-less drive to LAX with Jan at the wheel, being waved through various security checks, his SI pass opening the way to the refuelled Gulfstream G650 waiting for them (thanks to Jarvis's good offices) to the easy way Danvers had obtained all the clearances they needed, filed a flight plan, and obtained permission to land at Travis, apparently without a single bureaucratic delay, that Steve had been waiting for something to go wrong.
Tony called to the armour, relief flowing through him as it responded. But he diverted it so, instead of encasing him, it enfolded Steve, except for the other gauntlet, which flew to Tony's bare hand.
What was becoming clear was | <|output|> <|example|> What you know of my – of Captain America's past, about SHIELD, about Fury, about this Doom character. I need to know what I'm in the middle of here." <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> "
"Hi, Bruce, how's it going?" he asked, when his friend's image appeared <|indexes|> 0 <|example|> "We don't want a fight where civilians might get hurt <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 <|example|> "We don't want a fight where civilians might get hurt <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> Steve changed his grip, bringing up the shield to protect himself and Jan, who was still perched on his shoulder <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> "
"Hi, Bruce, how's it going?" he asked, when his friend's image appeared <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> What you know of my – of Captain America's past, about SHIELD, about Fury, about this Doom character <|indexes|> 5 | |
<|text|> that Ross had had nothing to do with the attempts on his own life. He was only interested in Steve and Bruce – or rather, Captain America and the Hulk. He had had no access to War Machine and, indeed, seemed to have had no contact with the Air Force on any level. Looked like his masters were intent on not invoking inter-service rivalry. Or perhaps Ross was outside the chain of command, and was only a customer of their mysterious enemies.
There is a Stark City. It is in Missouri and has a population that would hardly qualify it as a village!
The one really good thing about waking up in this time and place. Except, it was one more complication, one more thing that he was almost certainly going to lose.
"Well, let's send someone else. New York's no longer in danger, right? Can either the Widow or Hawkeye fly a plane?"
A man's voice, with a different accent, though still in English: "Is that possible – within the terms of modern scientific medicine, that is?"
Tony's panic only increased. "Whitney was here? What happened to her mask? If she has access to it she'll—?"
A breath later, and the armour impacted on the tower roof in Tony's normal knee down landing position, jarring every bone in his body. It ground forward a foot, a yard, then groaned to a halt.
Pepper turned to look at him directly. "Steve, he wouldn't understand that. The money's not even small change to him. What is important to him are the Avengers. He isn't willing to let go of you all anymore than he's willing to let go of Iron Man. What's more he's never liked SHIELD or Director Fury; keeping you, Natasha and Clint Barton off SHIELD's payroll is another way of thumbing his nose at both. He'd've tried to detach Phil, too, if he'd still been alive. And if he could bring Thor back from Asgard, he would."
He remembered Mallen, a glowing, zombie-like creature at the end of SHIELD's last failed super-soldier experiment. Not to mention the Mandroids, made by Justin Hammer from the tech he had stolen, purchased and still used by Fury, who knew all of that.
Tony's priority task was to discover if they were actually fighting the Presidential incumbent, the opposition nominee or whether both were innocent victims – and there was one place where he might learn just that.
Steve decided to laugh but he was confused enough for it to come out of a giggle. "One... of the Warriors Three."
"I only wish it was, but Cap and I saw it in operation today. Maybe that was how those 'leviathans' vanished from Manhattan."
"They feel... different," Tony observed, grinning. "Let's go get coffee and maybe send for takeout and I'll explain."
The pain was intense. He screamed and Extremis screamed with him. All contact with the electronic world was lost. The lab vanished, his body vanished and he was stretched into darkness. He was multitudes, each one battering against his mind, searching across the cosmos, yearning, lost and lonely...
Over the next couple of months Steve was | <|output|> <|example|> that Ross had had nothing to do with the attempts on his own life. He was only interested in Steve and Bruce – or rather, Captain America and the Hulk. He had had no access to War Machine and, indeed, seemed to have had no contact with the Air Force on any level. Looked like his masters were intent on not invoking inter-service rivalry. Or perhaps Ross was outside the chain of command, and was only a customer of their mysterious enemies. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> of the Warriors Three <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> Steve decided to laugh but he was confused enough for it to come out of a giggle <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> Maybe that was how those 'leviathans' vanished from Manhattan <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> "
The pain was intense <|indexes|> 3 | |
<|text|> treated to the spectacle of a Tony Stark he had not known existed, a whirlwind of a businessman and engineer, who orchestrated counter-attacks on government, the military, the judiciary and Wall Street with surprising skill and obvious glee.
And the Hulk leaped, not at Tony and Jan, but into the temple. The two men dropped Steve and ran towards the blue light.
"No, I haven't killed him, but he won't wake up for a while. I had to hit him hard; he's a tough cookie."
"I thought you and Miss Potts were ..." What? Engaged? Miss Potts did not wear a ring. "That she was your ..." He had a feeling that 'mistress' was almost certainly offensive. He'd heard 'significant other' which sounded ridiculous. "That she was your special girl."
"Well, that's a bummer," Tony agreed. "Because they're gaining on us. And we've no way to fight back."
"Oh." Tony's voice was little more than a whisper. Then, surprisingly, he laughed. "But you were, weren't you?" He thrust upwards, rubbing pre-cum against the inside of Steve's thighs. "Good, because now I can feel a little better about being insanely jealous of a woman who's been dead for fifteen years."
When Tony had decided that privatising World Peace wasn't enough to atone for Stark Industries sixty-odd years of arming the governments of the world and their more unsavoury agencies, and that providing clean energy for everyone at minimal cost would more than compensate for the actions of his father and himself, he had not foreseen that the personal cost would be being harangued by politicians and businessmen alike. The vested interests now were running scared of the miniaturised ARC reactors or wanted a slice of the pie.
"Right and justice and international law," Tony retorted. "And I was invited in." He carefully neglected to mention by whom. "Right now I'm trying to save your lives and stave off an international incident. So put down your fucking weapons because you would be outnumbered and outgunned even if I weren't here. Put them down, fuck it, if you don't want to die, because otherwise I can't save you."
The Panther chuckled. "No need to be so delicate, Captain. Two years before I was born, a plane crashed on the borders of Wakanda. The only survivor was a baby boy, only a few weeks old. My father and mother adopted him. In all the ways that count, he is my brother and his loyalty to the country and our people is unquestioned." Apparently feeling that this was the last word on the matter, he leaped out of the vehicle and strode over to a hitherto unnoticed stack of ... somethings ... covered by tarpaulins.
He heard Steve yell, "Tony!" With what he supposed was his last thought, as Yogthulu reared up, tentacles brushing the rafters of the double height room, Tony set the armour to respond to Steve. He faced the monster, hands raised, palms out, though he knew he didn't have enough power to do anything more than irritate it.
Thor listened to Tony's story without speaking, but his eyes changed from their normal sky | <|output|> <|example|> treated to the spectacle of a Tony Stark he had not known existed, a whirlwind of a businessman and engineer, who orchestrated counter-attacks on government, the military, the judiciary and Wall Street with surprising skill and obvious glee. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> He'd heard 'significant other' which sounded ridiculous <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> I had to hit him hard; he's a tough cookie <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> "Because they're gaining on us <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> "No, I haven't killed him, but he won't wake up for a while <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> In all the ways that count, he is my brother and his loyalty to the country and our people is unquestioned <|indexes|> 5 | |
<|text|> blue to something dark and, well, thunderous; bright fire flickered in their cold, iron-grey depths.
"Same way Thor is a god, probably. But how the hell did you get – or even think of getting – to that airstrip? From hicksville Oklahoma?"
Steve crouched in the well of the boat, the hood on his stolen robe thrown over his head, as the sailboat bounced across the lake, Okoye at the tiller. He used to feel vaguely seasick even on the ferries, but the serum had taken care of that. What he had not expected was how noisy the craft was, as the bow crashed into the waves that lifted under the rising wind, with the sails slapping and the rigging clattering. Voices called to each other ahead of them.
The Panther was unsurprised. "I did not expect to fool you entirely, but though I am T'Challa, son of T'Chaka, Black Panther, Chief and High Priest of the Panther tribe, I do not, currently, rule Wakanda. No one does. And I was never
It was deep into the night now, and the lake was masked by a thick layer of mist, no longer reflecting the stars or the thin moon that had risen above the mountains. It dimmed the lights of the houses and hotels, and the navigation lights were completely lost. The lake might have swallowed them.
"I'm in the suit," Tony pointed out. "Fastest way to get there, and even you can't cling to the suit all the way across the continent, Cap. We haven't got any other transport – at least, none that wouldn't mean one hell of a delay getting it to you."
He had just tripped over a root when Steve caught his arm, raising a finger to his lips, then pointing at the buildings below.
Happy pulled to a stop a few feet away, and jumped out of the driver's seat to open the door for Pepper. Tony's heart skipped a few beats. Pepper was wearing a white suit with a short tight skirt – it was one of his favourites – and her exit from the limo provided him with a perfect view of her long and lovely legs.
"Sorry, Pep. No more time." Tony cut contact and glared about him at his fellow Avengers. "What's going on? What's happening with Cap and Jan?"
He shifted onto his knees – or rather, tried to. He yelped, and collapsed on top of Steve, but that hurt even more.
After all, he couldn't leave it here, where it might fall in someone else's hands. If it was stolen, Gene would probably try to kill him; given the power of the Makluan rings in the Mandarin's hands, he was likely to succeed. It was better that no one else even saw it until he knew exactly what it did. That project would also give him something interesting to work on over the next couple of weeks.
"No one's dead, and no one has to die," Hennis growled in his ear. "Not if you cooperate. Now, let's go find Rogers."
"Except my private jet dodging UFOs right outside Frisco," Tony said. "It's | <|output|> <|example|> blue to something dark and, well, thunderous; bright fire flickered in their cold, iron-grey depths. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> That project would also give him something interesting to work on over the next couple of weeks <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> Voices called to each other ahead of them <|indexes|> 1 1 1 <|example|> What he had not expected was how noisy the craft was, as the bow crashed into the waves that lifted under the rising wind, with the sails slapping and the rigging clattering <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> Now, let's go find Rogers <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> "
He had just tripped over a root when Steve caught his arm, raising a finger to his lips, then pointing at the buildings below <|indexes|> 4 <|example|> "Same way Thor is a god, probably <|indexes|> 5 <|example|> "Fastest way to get there, and even you can't cling to the suit all the way across the continent, Cap <|indexes|> 6 6 | |
<|text|> apparently all over the internet. Or so Pepper says."
"—use microscopic amounts of both and not on the helicarrier. Try a reinforced bunker, and don't let anyone inside it when you do it."
"I'm calling a truce," Steve said calmly. "We have to talk this out, but not right now. You need your bed, and I'll sleep in that reclining chair of yours, if that's what you really want. God knows it isn't what—" Steve cut himself off as he saw Tony's eyes narrow.
Steve noted approvingly that she had no doubts about their ability to deal with the guards. "Perhaps none. If it's like the last one I encountered, it has its own self-destruct system. Maybe we can trigger it from this side."
"Sorry," Tony said, without any hint of repentance. "I had other business, but I'm glad you called. Please thank your minions on the way they dealt with the little burst of misinformation last night."
Unfortunately, much as he wanted to race onshore and search for Tony, Steve knew she was talking good sense. He nodded curtly and she scrambled away towards the prow.
T'challa was grinning, wide and happy. Maybe he could read Tony's thoughts. "You will keep me informed of your progress tracing the kidnappers."
Steve's face twisted in a bitter grimace. "No, it's lucky I'm not calling myself Captain America anymore. Isn't it?" He took several deep breaths, then looked up into Tony's eyes. "If it came to that, I'd back you – but I trust you – trust us – not to let it happen.
"Transportation portal," Steve explained, steadying himself by gripping the back of her seat, though he guessed the question had been rhetorical.
Most of the staff had left the building, though there were still people in the Culver sections, when a woman – he suspected it was Morganti herself – made her way towards the vault, carrying an insulated flask.
"I had help," Tony said. "Guy called Yinsen. Saved my life by sticking an electro-magnet in my chest, kept me sane while they tortured me, helped me build the miniature ARC reactor and the armour, helped me escape, gave his life for me..."
He shouldn't feel this disappointed that it hadn't. After all, he knew that everyone left, sooner or later.
"We've kidnapped you," Tony retorted, as he zigzagged the vehicle through the gap in the outer fence towards the darkening jungle. "So you didn't break your word. Not that it seems to matter to these goons."
"Uh-uh," Tony said, with what sounded very much like relief. He tapped the arc reactor. "Not enough lung capacity."
"I remembered because it was so unusual – Ms Potts doing something like that, I mean, and insisting Rushman bring the transfer papers down to her personally. And approving her transfer to your personal staff."
"I wonder if you and Tony will be able to help me check something out," one of the voices said. It was a vaguely familiar voice, but the pounding in his head was not helping him identify it.
"Something like that," Tony said, evasively. "What's going on, Steve? You don't normally open up about yourself like | <|output|> <|example|> apparently all over the internet. Or so Pepper says." <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> He tapped the arc reactor <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> "I had help," Tony said <|indexes|> 1 1 | |
<|text|> this."
Bruce's eyes narrowed as he surveyed Tony. "What the hell did you do to yourself, Stark? Or—?" A shadow settled on his expression. "Oh, Christ, it wasn't the Hu— the Other Guy, was it?"
That was not what he'd started to say, Tony guessed. He sealed the access panel with a flourish and rose to his feet while deciding how to respond. "Not anymore," he said at last. "We make a good team. A very good team. And I'm shy a partner now Rhodes has chosen the Air Force over me."
"Many places. I am Iron Man's computer," the voice explained. "This version of me runs the armoury and the house."
Natasha ignored him. "We've done all we can, short of assassination, particularly with all the key players outside the Pentagon on the stomp."
"It's all right, Steve. Or it will be." His smile was plainly forced. "I will explain, but not now. Not until I'm certain. Ja—"
The Panther looked back at him from where was pulling away a tarpaulin and extracting a white cube with a hollowed out centre. "Patience," he suggested, placing it on the smooth part of the floor. A touch to one side, and it sprang to life in light and heat and a semblance of flame. Next he unearthed a trio of carved wooden stools, then terracotta flasks of water and boxes containing what turned out to be the Wakandan equivalent of field rations, which were self-heating and which Steve pronounced to be "excellent".
Steve let out a silent breath of relief. Tony was, it seemed, merely drunk, and an amiable rather than an aggressive drunk at that. Except, in the instant before he had looked up there had been an expression of such intense misery on his face that it made Steve catch his breath. Jarvis was right; Tony needed help, though he almost certainly would reject anything Steve offered.
"And," Bruce was saying, "Fury had had a cage prepared—" when he was interrupted by a shrill beeping.
He was still Chairman of the Board. Pepper didn't want that job and, as Natasha had pointed out (or the legal Department had advised her), corporate governance was far better if the jobs were split so the Chairman could do his assigned job of keeping watch on the CEO. Keeping a watch on Pepper, as often as possible, was no hardship. Recent events, which had resulted in Government investigators crawling over some of the biggest firms in the country where the jobs were still combined, had confirmed that advice. Tony definitely wanted the Chairmanship out of the hands of any of the other members of the sometimes (often) hostile Board, if nothing else.
"Okay, okay," Tony muttered, trying to work out why he felt such unexpected pleasure at having these two men in his kitchen. "Bullies. How did the experiment go, by the way, Bruce?"
Tony stood frozen, almost wishing that he had found them conspiring or in sexual embrace. This was like being stripped naked, without the consequent sex.
But his mind was filled with voices and visions and memories that surfaced every time he was about | <|output|> <|example|> this." <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> This was like being stripped naked, without the consequent sex <|indexes|> 0 0 0 <|example|> Tony was, it seemed, merely drunk, and an amiable rather than an aggressive drunk at that <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> Not until I'm certain <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> "
Natasha ignored him <|indexes|> 3 <|example|> "Bullies <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> "Bullies <|indexes|> 5 | |
<|text|> to slip into sleep, a mixture of the traumatic events of the last few days, of his captivity in Afghanistan, of the Chitauri invasion and...
Steve burst out laughing. "No, that won't be necessary. Okay, let's put the Avengers back together here."
"Undoubtedly, but it wasn't you they were after, Cap. That trap was meant for me. So you being here isn't gonna make a difference." Tony was somehow now beside him with a hand on his shoulder, though he didn't try to push. Steve could almost see him making the calculation: this is Captain America. I can't manhandle him. Better try words instead. "You saved me yesterday, Cap. The least I can do is offer you sanctuary for a while. Now, come on, back to bed. Please, because if you fall over I'm going to need to change into the armour to lift you."
Stark must have seen something in his expression because he went on, "It was okay. Good cover. The Guardian it housed was defeated, the ring it protected now in other hands, though whether they are safe hands is... questionable." He shrugged.
As Tony jetted towards the temple steps, Okoye broke off her argument with the woman to turn and face him, holding up a hand and saying, "Do nothing, Stark. This is one of our greatest Healers; T'Challa's personal physician, skilled in both your medicine and our traditions."
That was strange, because he had been expecting a name. Perhaps even anticipating one. But he still did not know which name or even how he knew what that this was the voice of a machine.
"We need to get out of sight," Steve said, spreading his arms a little in an attempt to herd the women, then withdrawing them to his sides as they began to amble housewards.
Tony, contrary to all expectations, had been out of bed before him, a new coldness in his manner, all his prickles out, tongue razor-sharp and ready to cut Steve to ribbons.
They had only just arrived when Tony's voice spoke from Jarvis's hidden speakers. "Steve, I need you in the workshop. Jan, you'd better call Hank. If he's noticed you're gone he'll be frantic with worry by now."
he thought, even though who 'they' might be was something of a mystery. But then he was a mystery to himself.
Crouching beside Steve, Tony held his breath as the hollow sound of boots on wood moved overhead, then away from them towards their recent prison. Then Steve was moving, out into the light and vaulting up onto the walkway.
As he headed for the entrance to the armoury, Tony's eye was caught by the open garage doors. He diverted and, on landing, looked in horror at the wreckage of at least four of the cars, including his favourite Ferrari Spider. More than that, there were bullet holes in the walls.
Behind the Iron Man faceplate, Tony smiled to himself. "Told Steve you'd need back up," he said. "Didn't think that meant I'd get a chance to grab the bad guys."
Something else that was familiar enough for him to name, though if he had | <|output|> <|example|> to slip into sleep, a mixture of the traumatic events of the last few days, of his captivity in Afghanistan, of the Chitauri invasion and... <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> questionable <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> "
Something else that was familiar enough for him to name, though if he had <|indexes|> 1 <|example|> Behind the Iron Man faceplate, Tony smiled to himself <|indexes|> 2 <|example|> Okay, let's put the Avengers back together here <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> "Told Steve you'd need back up," he said <|indexes|> 4 <|example|> This is one of our greatest Healers; T'Challa's personal physician, skilled in both your medicine and our traditions <|indexes|> 5 <|example|> Crouching beside Steve, Tony held his breath as the hollow sound of boots on wood moved overhead, then away from them towards their recent prison <|indexes|> 6 <|example|> I can't manhandle him <|indexes|> 7 | |
<|text|> really been Captain America – or Steve Rogers – he should not have been.
The first kiss was soft, the sort of kiss Steve might have given his mother, the sister he had never had— but that changed as he kissed Tony back...
Tony thought, already reaching forward. He hooked his hand behind Steve's head, jerking their mouths together into a ferocious kiss, a clash of lips and tongues and teeth, Steve answering the assault with equal passion, pushing Tony away from the workbench.
"I thought you were pleased SHIELD found Captain America. You seem to be getting along surprisingly well with him."
Howard should have smiled in return. Instead, he was looking down at his hands. "Tony? What is this stuff you're covered in?"
Tony continued hurriedly. "I can find you some unused boxers and a clean shirt if you really need something to sleep in."
Tony's heart froze. He had not expected this. Though perhaps he should have, because Pepper knew him so well. How much did she know? Or guess? How much
Steve woke suddenly, gasping for breath. But there was no pain, and instead of patched sheets or thin and scratchy blankets, he was lying on material so smooth it was like a caress on his skin.
Steve took a deep breath. Talking with Pepper in the kitchen of the penthouse was quite a different thing from being summoned to the office of Ms Virginia Potts, CEO, Stark Industries.
Ghostly masts loomed to his right, so he rolled to his left, hoping to miss both the boats and the hotel pier. He just hoped that that meant the water was deep... a few feet at least...
"And you," Tony retorted, because, well, Steve was as easy on the eye as any lab assistant – or, for that matter, model or actor – he'd ever met. "Come on, human perfection, what have you and my sassy AI been conspiring about?"
He had begun suspect his time to think was limited when he had been barred from the site of the collapsed eStarkStore. The police had sealed it, then SHIELD and the FBI quarrelled over it for a time, while Jarvis hacked into all of their research files. | <|output|> <|example|> really been Captain America – or Steve Rogers – he should not have been. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> "
Tony's heart froze <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> "I thought you were pleased SHIELD found Captain America <|indexes|> 1 1 <|example|> <|indexes|> 2 2 <|example|> <|indexes|> 3 3 <|example|> He hooked his hand behind Steve's head, jerking their mouths together into a ferocious kiss, a clash of lips and tongues and teeth, Steve answering the assault with equal passion, pushing Tony away from the workbench <|indexes|> 4 4 <|example|> Talking with Pepper in the kitchen of the penthouse was quite a different thing from being summoned to the office of Ms Virginia Potts, CEO, Stark Industries <|indexes|> 5 5 | |
<|text|> <|example|> For a second, Steve stared at the phone in his hand, wondering stupidly if he’d managed to pick it up after all. Then the source of the voice registered, and…of course. Tony Stark wouldn’t let himself get snuck up on that easily. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> was aching. Information was seeping through in increments. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> her, long sleeved shirt folded to the elbows, corduroy pants worn over loafers. They seemed just as alien to him as the green-haired girl trudging in front of him, as did every laughing, merry face on the road today. Every pair of crinkled eyes, every excitable voice. Like Steve was somehow incorporeal, existing on a plane separate to the rest of these people; the ones who’d been born in and had grown up in this world. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> them. “Enough.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> attack would do that to a place. <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> “Guess we aren’t the only ones who hate him.” Steve turned the page he was holding over. It was a map of Queens with areas outlined in red and marked with a symbol meaning Bakuto’s name. Well, it actually said <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 | <|example|> scent. After his eyes got used to the darkness he looked around. Another big bed, a lot more pillows though, the same shades of blue; his hat balanced on a lamp next to a big desk with folders, papers and a briefcase next to it. If he hadn’t known better he would have assumed that Steve had a normal nine to five desk job in some office. Tony looked at the walls and paintings. He tiptoed into the room to get a closer look and opened the curtains to let in a little light to examine the picture further. Never before had he seen so much green in one place and he couldn’t help but wonder if it could be real. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> juice for everyone, the door opened unexpectedly and Sarah came in with Benni, both of them carrying bags. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> colouring books in the air and shakes it. “Right, ‘cause I’m the toddler of the team, I geddit. Thanks, Cap.” <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 | <|example|> apparently disappeared from his then-safehouse and somehow had a tete-a-tete with Tony Stark. Sam didn’t know the details of what had happened that day, just as he didn’t know what had occurred when he’d sent Stark off on a wild goose chase from the Raft and only Steve and Barnes had returned. Steve didn’t offer to share, and Sam didn’t ask. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> For a second, Steve stared at the phone in his hand, wondering stupidly if he’d managed to pick it up after all. Then the source of the voice registered, and…of course. Tony Stark wouldn’t let himself get snuck up on that easily. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> “Guess we aren’t the only ones who hate him.” Steve turned the page he was holding over. It was a map of Queens with areas outlined in red and marked with a symbol meaning Bakuto’s name. Well, it actually said <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> “Right, ‘cause I’m the toddler of the team, I geddit <|indexes|> 0 0 | |
<|text|> <|example|> them. “Enough.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> attack would do that to a place. <|indexes|> 0 0 <|example|> “Guess we aren’t the only ones who hate him.” Steve turned the page he was holding over. It was a map of Queens with areas outlined in red and marked with a symbol meaning Bakuto’s name. Well, it actually said <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 | <|example|> scent. After his eyes got used to the darkness he looked around. Another big bed, a lot more pillows though, the same shades of blue; his hat balanced on a lamp next to a big desk with folders, papers and a briefcase next to it. If he hadn’t known better he would have assumed that Steve had a normal nine to five desk job in some office. Tony looked at the walls and paintings. He tiptoed into the room to get a closer look and opened the curtains to let in a little light to examine the picture further. Never before had he seen so much green in one place and he couldn’t help but wonder if it could be real. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> juice for everyone, the door opened unexpectedly and Sarah came in with Benni, both of them carrying bags. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> colouring books in the air and shakes it. “Right, ‘cause I’m the toddler of the team, I geddit. Thanks, Cap.” <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 | <|example|> apparently disappeared from his then-safehouse and somehow had a tete-a-tete with Tony Stark. Sam didn’t know the details of what had happened that day, just as he didn’t know what had occurred when he’d sent Stark off on a wild goose chase from the Raft and only Steve and Barnes had returned. Steve didn’t offer to share, and Sam didn’t ask. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> them. “Enough.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> “Guess we aren’t the only ones who hate him.” Steve turned the page he was holding over. It was a map of Queens with areas outlined in red and marked with a symbol meaning Bakuto’s name. Well, it actually said <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | | <|output|> <|example|> If he hadn’t known better he would have assumed that Steve had a normal nine to five desk job in some office <|indexes|> 0 0 | |
<|text|> <|example|> juice for everyone, the door opened unexpectedly and Sarah came in with Benni, both of them carrying bags. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> colouring books in the air and shakes it. “Right, ‘cause I’m the toddler of the team, I geddit. Thanks, Cap.” <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 | <|example|> apparently disappeared from his then-safehouse and somehow had a tete-a-tete with Tony Stark. Sam didn’t know the details of what had happened that day, just as he didn’t know what had occurred when he’d sent Stark off on a wild goose chase from the Raft and only Steve and Barnes had returned. Steve didn’t offer to share, and Sam didn’t ask. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> he moved his head to dig his chin into the pillow, strands of hair slipping over his forehead and brushing over the tip of his nose. Another minute. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> lines of rust. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> in the passageway than he’d expected-there were probably built in ducts, for better circulation. The blast had caused the barrier heap of sand to blow inwards, plastered to the wall and crunching under their feet, but far less in volume than expected, probably as the ceiling had already begun and there was only so much sand that could occupy a space. A space that terminated in a door, as it turned out-also helpfully taken out by the blast. The corridor stretched on ahead, blanketed black and seemingly endless. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> raised soft fingers, leaned enough to ghost them over the back of Steve’s neck, catching at the flyway strands of a haircut she’d never gotten to see. “You’ve already done your time someplace else.” <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> sleep on time.” FRIDAY was much more given to interruptions too, possibly because of aforementioned caring. “You cook, and eat, and don’t get completely lost in your work, and listen to me when I ask you to take a break when you do-“ <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> deserved any less. But Clint could also be…..wilful at times, and the way his drawn face was dipping in and out of light and shadow as he unendingly scraped at his weapons…it didn’t bode well. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> this way. Filled in the blanks for himself <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 | <|example|> because it was when the skies darkened that people needed their faith the most. To hold on, and thus emerge on the other side, faith varnished and renewed and shining…or cracked right through the centre. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> "Unless you pose a danger to my students I will never read your mind without your permission. In fact, the most difficult thing about being a telepath is keeping out intrusive thought. Which is why Jean did not offer to shake hands: touch is difficult for telepaths, and she is not fully trained. Now, sit down and relax. Do you mind Jean and Scott being here? Jean will observe and monitor our exchange." <|indexes|> 1 1 1 | | <|output|> <|example|> juice for everyone, the door opened unexpectedly and Sarah came in with Benni, both of them carrying bags. <|indexes|> 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 <|example|> colouring books in the air and shakes it. “Right, ‘cause I’m the toddler of the team, I geddit. Thanks, Cap.” <|indexes|> 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 <|example|> "Unless you pose a danger to my students I will never read your mind without your permission. In fact, the most difficult thing about being a telepath is keeping out intrusive thought. Which is why Jean did not offer to shake hands: touch is difficult for telepaths, and she is not fully trained. Now, sit down and relax. Do you mind Jean and Scott being here? Jean will observe and monitor our exchange." <|indexes|> 2 2 2 | | <|output|> <|example|> In fact, the most difficult thing about being a telepath is keeping out intrusive thought <|indexes|> 0 | |