[Fic] 5 comic drabbles (Part II)
5 drabbles that are 500 words or less in various comic fandoms (Morning Glories, Marvel Cinematic Universe: The Avengers, X-Men First Class), written for prompts on the comicdrabbles comm on lj. Ratings range from G to PG.
***
Clarity (Prompt: Sharp; Morning Glories)
Jun is drowning. Like from that first day in detention, he’s been floundering, sinking, every day. Water in his ears, clouding his vision, and nothing makes sense. He doesn’t where he is, why he’s here, who he is-
Until he sees a glimpse of that hair, those eyes, that sharp little smirk...Jun doesn’t see him again; he’s not even sure if it’s him, but he starts floating to the surface-
And when Guillaume takes his hand and pulls him up, he takes his first gasp of fresh air in a very long time.
He can tell from Guillaume’s little grin and his flippant remark that he meant for Jun to see him that morning at the reading of the rules, and Guillaume says ‘orders’ and ‘mission’ like they’re more important than anything else, but Jun doesn’t care.
No, not Jun - Hisao. Because that’s how Guillaume will always think of him.
Hisao can’t say that things are making sense - nothing in this place makes sense - but things are...sharper now. Less indistinct. Clearer.
Because even though Hisao doesn’t know where this is going to lead or where they are going to go, Guillaume is with him. And in this abandoned classroom, their fingers entwined, clutching at each other, it's a moment of peace, of clarity, in their confusing and chaotic world.
It may not be a part of their orders, or their mission - whatever those may be - but this is right, because this is them.
***
Noise (Prompt: Sharp; The Avengers)
Steve’s space in the rebuilt Stark Tower is too big (really, he doesn’t need a whole floor, but Tony is insistent); too empty and lonely. The gym is great, but sometimes he likes sparring with Natasha or Clint as well, and the silence reminds him of the ice.
The shop is never quiet. If Tony’s in there, it’s a cacophony of noise; his music blaring from the speakers, but not enough to cover up the banging on metal, whirring of machines, and the occasional explosion. Coupled with Tony shouting at JARVIS and Dummy, Butterfingers, and You over the music, it’s an absolute din.
The first time he steps foot in Tony’s workshop, his enhanced senses take a hit, and he actually recoils from the volume of the music. JARVIS shuts the music off with an apology, and Tony exasperatedly berates JARVIS for it before he notices Steve.
“Sorry,” Steve says awkwardly, and jumps as something prods at him and tries to push something into his hand. “Oh-hello.”
“That’s just Dummy, ignore him, he’s useless.” Tony jumps up and bats at the mechanical hand. “No, stop it. What is that? Dummy, I told you to throw that away. No, he doesn’t want it, go over there and clean up that workbench. Yes, now, go.”
Tony rolls his eyes, turns back to Steve. “Sorry, he’s such a pain, can’t even-what? What is it?”
Steve can’t conceal his laughter. Tony lets him sit in the shop while he works, and after that, Steve starts spending more time there, enjoying the company of the engineer and his AIs. He brings his sketchpad and draws Butterfingers and You as they roll around the workshop; Tony lecturing an untroubled Dummy; the glow of Tony’s arc reactor.
Even without the music, it’s still noisy, but in a way that Steve likes. None of the loud, crashing noise that seems to be pretty popular here, but is very far from Steve’s kind of tunes. Just the sounds of Tony working, muttering to himself, JARVIS’ serene voice, and the playful banter between Tony and his creations that makes Steve smile as he curiously watches Tony work.
Tony ducks out for a snack and returns to find Steve singing softly, a sweet song from his soldier days. When he notices Tony leaning against the doorway, watching him with a little smile on his face, Steve blushes and stops, but Tony tells him to keep going. He encourages Steve to sing more often, though Steve won’t do it in front of the others, only when it’s him and Tony and the AIs in the shop.
Sometimes Tony will join in too, when it’s a song that Tony knows as well, a little off-key, but their voices go well together. And other times - rarer occurrences, but these are Steve’s favourite - when it’s just Tony, and Steve will be sitting there blending colours to find the exact shade of arc reactor blue, listening to Tony’s voice, the notes a little sharp.
***
Void (Prompt: Bond; X-Men First Class)
Erik (Magneto, Emma reminds herself, but all of his little friends think of him as Erik) never takes the helmet off when there are telepaths around. He keeps his mind closed off from everyone, and his expressions guarded; his face never gives anything away, and Emma has no idea what he’s thinking.
The first time is an accident; Erik doesn’t realize that Emma’s within range when he takes the helmet off, and she doesn’t mean to pry. She’s only let in for a second, before Erik realizes that she’s back, but he’s practically broadcasting his thoughts, which are all focussed around one name.
Charles.
Curiosity is dangerous, Emma knows, and she’s not sure that she really wants to hear what goes on inside Erik Lehnsherr’s head - but for the brief moment she was in there, she felt something strange, something unfamiliar, and she wants to know what it is.
The opportunity doesn’t arise for a while, but one day, Erik is upstairs resting, and the helmet must slip a little, because suddenly the thoughts are trickling out, faster and faster every second. Halfway between consciousness and sleep, he’s broadcasting unintentionally again, his mind screaming out for one person.
Charles!
Emma pushes tentatively into Erik’s mind, wary of any safeguards that Erik might have in place, but there are none. And she soon realizes why.
She hadn’t recognized what that strange thing in Erik’s mind was the first time, because she’s never seen anything like it. It’s an empty space. A void, something that longs to be filled, and Erik’s mind must be constantly yearning for it. For Charles, because he’s still calling out for him, over and over again, and in that helmet, it must be a constant echo.
Charles, Charles, Charles...
This is why Erik has no mental safeguards. He’s never needed them. The only telepath he’s known before Emma is Charles, and he let him into his mind completely. He has given all of himself to Charles, their minds have bonded, but Erik forced Charles out of his mind when he put on Shaw’s helmet, leaving a literal hole where the telepath had been.
Emma can’t imagine what it must be like to connect so intimately with someone like that, to let them into everything you are, and then have it all ripped away.
Charles.
The next time the Brotherhood comes across the so-called X-Men, Emma notices Erik slipping. His eyes and his mouth give away his guilt, his pain at seeing Charles in that chair. What has happened has made Charles more cautious, less open, but Emma can still feel the loneliness practically radiating off him. He keeps Emma out, but she can still hear his mind crying out for Erik too.
There will always be a gap in their minds, where the other should be, where they belong. But this rift between them was opened the moment Erik put that helmet on, and has only grown wider since, and nothing may be able to close it.
***
Inevitable (Prompt: Very Bad Ideas; The Avengers)
Very bad ideas are Tony's specialty. He's an alcoholic engineer; it's inevitable. From making a coffee table that runs away with people's cups and magazines (that's a bug he still hasn't been able to figure out) to reckless decisions in the field that Steve insists could get him killed.
He brushes off Steve’s concern with smart remarks, not wanting to show how much Steve’s care means to him. It’s not like he’s never taken risks before. He takes risks all the time, and surprisingly enough, some of his wild plans actually work out.
It’s probably a bad idea to get close to Steve. Tony has a history of either putting people he’s close to in danger, pushing them away, or having them turn out to be really evil. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t have to worry about that last option (though he won’t rule out mind control), and Captain America can take care of himself, but that second one is definitely plausible. Even likely.
Tony forgets a lot of things. It’s just inevitable. He forgets birthdays and what people are allergic to and whatever meetings he has. He forgets to take care of himself, and he forgets that people care about him. And that only leads to distance and arguments and maybe he and Pepper ending was inevitable, too, maybe she just knew him too well, and couldn’t handle so much of him in her life. Tony doesn’t blame her.
He knows that Steve cares about him. Steve cares about all of them. They’re a team. It takes Tony longer than it should to figure out that Steve cares about him, but when they’re sitting in the shop and Tony looks over and sees Steve patiently letting Dummy help him hang some of his drawings up, he suddenly realizes. And promptly panics.
Steve looks over, alarmed, when he drops a wrench and jumps out of his seat, but Tony assures him that he’s fine.
It’s not fine. Steve...Steve is great. Steve is Tony’s friend. Steve is Captain America. It’s inevitable that any kind of romantic attachment with Steve is going to end badly. For both of them. It just can’t happen. Tony won’t ruin something else.
He has a friend to lose, a team to lose. But Tony’s never been very good at avoiding bad ideas, especially when the risks are high, and sitting with Steve like this feels so right. When he watches Steve in the field, when he talks to him over the comms, or watches a movie with him in the Tower or sits with him while he draws, he thinks that maybe Steve is doing him a little good. When he sees the way that Steve watches him back, the way he smiles at him, Tony thinks that falling for Steve wasn’t a complete mistake. And when Steve kisses him for the first time, he thinks that being with Steve might not be such a bad idea after all.
***
Sounds (Prompt: Gasp; The Avengers)
Clint’s overly fond of quips and smart remarks, but when he needs to, he does silence better than any other SHIELD agent, with perhaps the exception of Natasha. When he sneaks away into the rafters or air vents, perching high above and watching with sharp eyes, Clint disappears. He’s neither seen nor heard, and he likes it that way.
Silence is not necessarily a bad sign with Clint. He’s focussed and intent and controlled, but he’ll always respond to Coulson when he calls for Clint to check in, even if it’s just a few words. They learned the hard way that it’s necessary, and Coulson knows how to read every little sound that says that Clint is secure, uncompromised.
But when Clint lets out a small gasp and nothing else, and Coulson knows that something is wrong. Very wrong. The smallest of Clint’s sounds can say so much - a teasing ‘Sir’, a click of the tongue, a soft chuckle; all affectionate signals that Coulson gets from Clint regularly, but this gasp only screams danger.
Coulson starts to act immediately, ordering agents to find Barton, now, and listens for anything else, anything that will tell him that Clint is safe.
***
Clarity (Prompt: Sharp; Morning Glories)
Jun is drowning. Like from that first day in detention, he’s been floundering, sinking, every day. Water in his ears, clouding his vision, and nothing makes sense. He doesn’t where he is, why he’s here, who he is-
Until he sees a glimpse of that hair, those eyes, that sharp little smirk...Jun doesn’t see him again; he’s not even sure if it’s him, but he starts floating to the surface-
And when Guillaume takes his hand and pulls him up, he takes his first gasp of fresh air in a very long time.
He can tell from Guillaume’s little grin and his flippant remark that he meant for Jun to see him that morning at the reading of the rules, and Guillaume says ‘orders’ and ‘mission’ like they’re more important than anything else, but Jun doesn’t care.
No, not Jun - Hisao. Because that’s how Guillaume will always think of him.
Hisao can’t say that things are making sense - nothing in this place makes sense - but things are...sharper now. Less indistinct. Clearer.
Because even though Hisao doesn’t know where this is going to lead or where they are going to go, Guillaume is with him. And in this abandoned classroom, their fingers entwined, clutching at each other, it's a moment of peace, of clarity, in their confusing and chaotic world.
It may not be a part of their orders, or their mission - whatever those may be - but this is right, because this is them.
***
Noise (Prompt: Sharp; The Avengers)
Steve’s space in the rebuilt Stark Tower is too big (really, he doesn’t need a whole floor, but Tony is insistent); too empty and lonely. The gym is great, but sometimes he likes sparring with Natasha or Clint as well, and the silence reminds him of the ice.
The shop is never quiet. If Tony’s in there, it’s a cacophony of noise; his music blaring from the speakers, but not enough to cover up the banging on metal, whirring of machines, and the occasional explosion. Coupled with Tony shouting at JARVIS and Dummy, Butterfingers, and You over the music, it’s an absolute din.
The first time he steps foot in Tony’s workshop, his enhanced senses take a hit, and he actually recoils from the volume of the music. JARVIS shuts the music off with an apology, and Tony exasperatedly berates JARVIS for it before he notices Steve.
“Sorry,” Steve says awkwardly, and jumps as something prods at him and tries to push something into his hand. “Oh-hello.”
“That’s just Dummy, ignore him, he’s useless.” Tony jumps up and bats at the mechanical hand. “No, stop it. What is that? Dummy, I told you to throw that away. No, he doesn’t want it, go over there and clean up that workbench. Yes, now, go.”
Tony rolls his eyes, turns back to Steve. “Sorry, he’s such a pain, can’t even-what? What is it?”
Steve can’t conceal his laughter. Tony lets him sit in the shop while he works, and after that, Steve starts spending more time there, enjoying the company of the engineer and his AIs. He brings his sketchpad and draws Butterfingers and You as they roll around the workshop; Tony lecturing an untroubled Dummy; the glow of Tony’s arc reactor.
Even without the music, it’s still noisy, but in a way that Steve likes. None of the loud, crashing noise that seems to be pretty popular here, but is very far from Steve’s kind of tunes. Just the sounds of Tony working, muttering to himself, JARVIS’ serene voice, and the playful banter between Tony and his creations that makes Steve smile as he curiously watches Tony work.
Tony ducks out for a snack and returns to find Steve singing softly, a sweet song from his soldier days. When he notices Tony leaning against the doorway, watching him with a little smile on his face, Steve blushes and stops, but Tony tells him to keep going. He encourages Steve to sing more often, though Steve won’t do it in front of the others, only when it’s him and Tony and the AIs in the shop.
Sometimes Tony will join in too, when it’s a song that Tony knows as well, a little off-key, but their voices go well together. And other times - rarer occurrences, but these are Steve’s favourite - when it’s just Tony, and Steve will be sitting there blending colours to find the exact shade of arc reactor blue, listening to Tony’s voice, the notes a little sharp.
***
Void (Prompt: Bond; X-Men First Class)
Erik (Magneto, Emma reminds herself, but all of his little friends think of him as Erik) never takes the helmet off when there are telepaths around. He keeps his mind closed off from everyone, and his expressions guarded; his face never gives anything away, and Emma has no idea what he’s thinking.
The first time is an accident; Erik doesn’t realize that Emma’s within range when he takes the helmet off, and she doesn’t mean to pry. She’s only let in for a second, before Erik realizes that she’s back, but he’s practically broadcasting his thoughts, which are all focussed around one name.
Charles.
Curiosity is dangerous, Emma knows, and she’s not sure that she really wants to hear what goes on inside Erik Lehnsherr’s head - but for the brief moment she was in there, she felt something strange, something unfamiliar, and she wants to know what it is.
The opportunity doesn’t arise for a while, but one day, Erik is upstairs resting, and the helmet must slip a little, because suddenly the thoughts are trickling out, faster and faster every second. Halfway between consciousness and sleep, he’s broadcasting unintentionally again, his mind screaming out for one person.
Charles!
Emma pushes tentatively into Erik’s mind, wary of any safeguards that Erik might have in place, but there are none. And she soon realizes why.
She hadn’t recognized what that strange thing in Erik’s mind was the first time, because she’s never seen anything like it. It’s an empty space. A void, something that longs to be filled, and Erik’s mind must be constantly yearning for it. For Charles, because he’s still calling out for him, over and over again, and in that helmet, it must be a constant echo.
Charles, Charles, Charles...
This is why Erik has no mental safeguards. He’s never needed them. The only telepath he’s known before Emma is Charles, and he let him into his mind completely. He has given all of himself to Charles, their minds have bonded, but Erik forced Charles out of his mind when he put on Shaw’s helmet, leaving a literal hole where the telepath had been.
Emma can’t imagine what it must be like to connect so intimately with someone like that, to let them into everything you are, and then have it all ripped away.
Charles.
The next time the Brotherhood comes across the so-called X-Men, Emma notices Erik slipping. His eyes and his mouth give away his guilt, his pain at seeing Charles in that chair. What has happened has made Charles more cautious, less open, but Emma can still feel the loneliness practically radiating off him. He keeps Emma out, but she can still hear his mind crying out for Erik too.
There will always be a gap in their minds, where the other should be, where they belong. But this rift between them was opened the moment Erik put that helmet on, and has only grown wider since, and nothing may be able to close it.
***
Inevitable (Prompt: Very Bad Ideas; The Avengers)
Very bad ideas are Tony's specialty. He's an alcoholic engineer; it's inevitable. From making a coffee table that runs away with people's cups and magazines (that's a bug he still hasn't been able to figure out) to reckless decisions in the field that Steve insists could get him killed.
He brushes off Steve’s concern with smart remarks, not wanting to show how much Steve’s care means to him. It’s not like he’s never taken risks before. He takes risks all the time, and surprisingly enough, some of his wild plans actually work out.
It’s probably a bad idea to get close to Steve. Tony has a history of either putting people he’s close to in danger, pushing them away, or having them turn out to be really evil. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t have to worry about that last option (though he won’t rule out mind control), and Captain America can take care of himself, but that second one is definitely plausible. Even likely.
Tony forgets a lot of things. It’s just inevitable. He forgets birthdays and what people are allergic to and whatever meetings he has. He forgets to take care of himself, and he forgets that people care about him. And that only leads to distance and arguments and maybe he and Pepper ending was inevitable, too, maybe she just knew him too well, and couldn’t handle so much of him in her life. Tony doesn’t blame her.
He knows that Steve cares about him. Steve cares about all of them. They’re a team. It takes Tony longer than it should to figure out that Steve cares about him, but when they’re sitting in the shop and Tony looks over and sees Steve patiently letting Dummy help him hang some of his drawings up, he suddenly realizes. And promptly panics.
Steve looks over, alarmed, when he drops a wrench and jumps out of his seat, but Tony assures him that he’s fine.
It’s not fine. Steve...Steve is great. Steve is Tony’s friend. Steve is Captain America. It’s inevitable that any kind of romantic attachment with Steve is going to end badly. For both of them. It just can’t happen. Tony won’t ruin something else.
He has a friend to lose, a team to lose. But Tony’s never been very good at avoiding bad ideas, especially when the risks are high, and sitting with Steve like this feels so right. When he watches Steve in the field, when he talks to him over the comms, or watches a movie with him in the Tower or sits with him while he draws, he thinks that maybe Steve is doing him a little good. When he sees the way that Steve watches him back, the way he smiles at him, Tony thinks that falling for Steve wasn’t a complete mistake. And when Steve kisses him for the first time, he thinks that being with Steve might not be such a bad idea after all.
***
Sounds (Prompt: Gasp; The Avengers)
Clint’s overly fond of quips and smart remarks, but when he needs to, he does silence better than any other SHIELD agent, with perhaps the exception of Natasha. When he sneaks away into the rafters or air vents, perching high above and watching with sharp eyes, Clint disappears. He’s neither seen nor heard, and he likes it that way.
Silence is not necessarily a bad sign with Clint. He’s focussed and intent and controlled, but he’ll always respond to Coulson when he calls for Clint to check in, even if it’s just a few words. They learned the hard way that it’s necessary, and Coulson knows how to read every little sound that says that Clint is secure, uncompromised.
But when Clint lets out a small gasp and nothing else, and Coulson knows that something is wrong. Very wrong. The smallest of Clint’s sounds can say so much - a teasing ‘Sir’, a click of the tongue, a soft chuckle; all affectionate signals that Coulson gets from Clint regularly, but this gasp only screams danger.
Coulson starts to act immediately, ordering agents to find Barton, now, and listens for anything else, anything that will tell him that Clint is safe.