snippet of crack-addled crossover
In response to a conversation on 
katie_m's LJ, I give you Captain America and Dean Pelton. Yeah, I dunno either.
It wasn't as though Steve didn't occasionally see other people in his uniform. After all, this modern world had the Internet (he could never figure out why Tony sometimes added an 's' to that), even more comic books than he remembered stealing from Bucky during the war, and good reason to think well of Steve and his team in the aftermath of New York. So Bruce and Clint often sent him links to adorable little girls dressed as Princess Captain America for Halloween, or to enthusiastic Texas oilworkers dancing Gangnam style in Avengers uniforms.
But this guy. Steve glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, before affixing his gaze, properly, on the Senator speaking about the virtues of public service. This small community college was a bit run-down, the student audience the expected mix of early-20s kids in jeans and hoodies, and older students in what Steve considered to be attire more appropriate for the occasion. The guest of honor, a young blonde woman who had inexplicably saved a sea lion from drowning at a circus performance, was making faces at several people in the audience.
And the Dean of the college, a man filling a position Steve had to believe was one of probity and respect, well. The Dean, a slim bald man in his forties, was wearing a Captain America uniform, tailored to within an inch of his life (and that of any descendents he might hope to have). Except the blue material was coated with a layer of glitter, so that every time he turned to look at the audience, or clapped his hands in response to one of the speakers, he shed a flurry of sparkles, as if he were an animated character in one of those cartoon shows Darcy kept trying to get Steve to watch.
At length the Senator finished, the Dean sparkled his way to the lectern to introduce Captain Rogers, and Steve gave his number six speech, the one about public service and the importance of personal heroism. The girl glowed with righteous sincerity, blushed scarlet when Steve handed her the framed certificate, and rushed offstage as soon as the cameras stopped flashing.
Steve had a flight to catch (he preferred to fly commercial for non-emergency travel, as he was far more likely to arrive with his luggage intact and no stains on his clothing from unexpected vector changes), but as he turned to leave the stage, a hand caught his arm.
"Captain Rogers--" said the Dean, looking, for a responsible adult, oddly infantile with his head covered by the cowl of the Captain America uniform.
Steve smiled reflexively. "Dean Pelton? What can I do for you?"
The Dean smiled in return, his face relaxing into an expression of such open joy that Steve's mild boredom vanished. "You--you know my name!"
Oh, one of those. Still, he seemed harmless, aside from the glitter. "Of course, you're my host. Is there something I can do for you, Dean?"
"I--I--" the Dean stammered, and then finally slumped, turning his head away. "Never mind."
Steve looked at his watch. He had a flight, but the airport was twenty minutes away and the flight was in three hours. And the Dean's shoulders were very narrow beneath the glittering blue of his Captain America uniform. He looked like he could use some help, or at least some company: who knew what difficulties attended the administration of a small community college out here in the midwest of an America Steve Rogers barely knew anymore?
With the glancing thought that Tony would never let him live it down if he shed glitter all over Avengers Tower, Steve put a hand on the Dean's shoulder. "Why don't you come to lunch with me, Dean, and tell me what's troubling you."
Crossposted from DW, where there are
comments; comment here or there.
katie_m's LJ, I give you Captain America and Dean Pelton. Yeah, I dunno either.
It wasn't as though Steve didn't occasionally see other people in his uniform. After all, this modern world had the Internet (he could never figure out why Tony sometimes added an 's' to that), even more comic books than he remembered stealing from Bucky during the war, and good reason to think well of Steve and his team in the aftermath of New York. So Bruce and Clint often sent him links to adorable little girls dressed as Princess Captain America for Halloween, or to enthusiastic Texas oilworkers dancing Gangnam style in Avengers uniforms.
But this guy. Steve glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, before affixing his gaze, properly, on the Senator speaking about the virtues of public service. This small community college was a bit run-down, the student audience the expected mix of early-20s kids in jeans and hoodies, and older students in what Steve considered to be attire more appropriate for the occasion. The guest of honor, a young blonde woman who had inexplicably saved a sea lion from drowning at a circus performance, was making faces at several people in the audience.
And the Dean of the college, a man filling a position Steve had to believe was one of probity and respect, well. The Dean, a slim bald man in his forties, was wearing a Captain America uniform, tailored to within an inch of his life (and that of any descendents he might hope to have). Except the blue material was coated with a layer of glitter, so that every time he turned to look at the audience, or clapped his hands in response to one of the speakers, he shed a flurry of sparkles, as if he were an animated character in one of those cartoon shows Darcy kept trying to get Steve to watch.
At length the Senator finished, the Dean sparkled his way to the lectern to introduce Captain Rogers, and Steve gave his number six speech, the one about public service and the importance of personal heroism. The girl glowed with righteous sincerity, blushed scarlet when Steve handed her the framed certificate, and rushed offstage as soon as the cameras stopped flashing.
Steve had a flight to catch (he preferred to fly commercial for non-emergency travel, as he was far more likely to arrive with his luggage intact and no stains on his clothing from unexpected vector changes), but as he turned to leave the stage, a hand caught his arm.
"Captain Rogers--" said the Dean, looking, for a responsible adult, oddly infantile with his head covered by the cowl of the Captain America uniform.
Steve smiled reflexively. "Dean Pelton? What can I do for you?"
The Dean smiled in return, his face relaxing into an expression of such open joy that Steve's mild boredom vanished. "You--you know my name!"
Oh, one of those. Still, he seemed harmless, aside from the glitter. "Of course, you're my host. Is there something I can do for you, Dean?"
"I--I--" the Dean stammered, and then finally slumped, turning his head away. "Never mind."
Steve looked at his watch. He had a flight, but the airport was twenty minutes away and the flight was in three hours. And the Dean's shoulders were very narrow beneath the glittering blue of his Captain America uniform. He looked like he could use some help, or at least some company: who knew what difficulties attended the administration of a small community college out here in the midwest of an America Steve Rogers barely knew anymore?
With the glancing thought that Tony would never let him live it down if he shed glitter all over Avengers Tower, Steve put a hand on the Dean's shoulder. "Why don't you come to lunch with me, Dean, and tell me what's troubling you."
Crossposted from DW, where there are
comments; comment here or there.