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THIS ROUND IS NOW CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS.
ROUND FOUR WILL OPEN AT 10PM EST ON MONDAY THE 14TH.
ROUND THREE
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REMINDER: THERE IS A SPOILER POLICY IN PLACE UNTIL 7 MAY.
PROMPT FORMATTING:
Alphabetize pairings. They will be archived that way!Put [RPF] before RPF prompts ( Read more... )
It’s a peculiar proverb, though not one Loki can’t dissect for its meaning. He laughs, ignoring the painful twinge in his chest as he disturbs healing bones. Were he in the mood to tempt the green beast, and had he more time, he would rip open Steve Rogers from throat to belly, revealing all of those things in him that were no longer working, but old, rusted, lonely, craving. He would flay him in front of his friends and expose all of his hidden insecurities. He would bring the monsters out. He would dance with them.
Another time. Another game. He makes himself this promise.
Tony Stark’s elevator pings, a signal to his arrival. Loki closes his eyes, lifting his chin up and baring his throat. “How strange it is,” he murmurs, “that I, your tormentor, am the only one with a home to return to.”
He does not require sight to know the knife has buried deep, ready for when Loki chooses to rip it out again. But now, he leaves it. Lets it fester.
“I was originally going to market this as an S&M model,” Tony Stark calls out as he exits the elevator. “You know, if Pepper ever let me design and market sex toys for a broader target audience than myself.”
“You-what?” says Steve Rogers.
(Soon, Loki thinks. He begins to plan his escape.)
ii.
After Thor and Loki vanish into a fine-threaded light, Steve makes his goodbyes. He’s never had that kind of opportunity before: saying goodbye to comrades, to friends. He’s not sure what to do when Natasha touches his arm or with the ironic curl to Bruce’s mouth. He wonders what kind of impression he’s made on them and if it’s something he actually wants to know.
With Stark-well, Tony-he doesn’t need to ask. There’s still something guarded and cool in Tony’s smile and the press of his palm when they shake hands. It reminds Steve of Peggy, in a strange, discomforting way. She hadn’t been afraid to speak her mind, but there had been so much more she’d never say. He misses her. Sometimes he misses her so much, he forgets how she could twist him in knots.
Steve touches Tony’s elbow with his other hand. “Take care of yourself,” he says, and means it.
“You can always count on that,” Tony says.
“I’m serious,” Steve insists. “No more flying into alien portals on your own, all right?” He’s trying for a joke. He’s not that good at being funny, but he’s trying.
“I thought you wanted me to lay down on the wire.”
God, those knots. His throat hurts and he hates that he can be in this place again, that Tony’s mocking tone can do that to him. “Don’t,” he says, and then, “I suppose I deserved that.”
Tony looks away first. “Yeah. Well. Not so much.”
“But maybe a little.”
“Let’s not do this,” Tony says, letting go of his hand.
“Okay.”
“See you around, Cap.” And when he walks away, Tony really does walk away-every step widens the distance between them until Steve feels the disconnect. For the first time since SHIELD put him in a room with these people, he’s untethered. Alone.
He gets on his motorcycle and punches down on the kick start with his heel. The engine rumbles to life beneath him. Steve’s going to be okay-he always is. If nothing else, there’s the shield to fall back on. Captain America is never out of a job.
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(So, if I'm sad for Steve now, I'm guessing it's only going to get worse from here. . .?)
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