who to believe
the man or the myth
rating: g
characters: Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff
warnings: none
summary: The strong man, who has known power all his life, may lose respect for that power. But a weak man knows the value of strength, and knows... compassion.
Steve Rogers has been a weak man. Captain America has always been a strong one.
Don’t buy into your own mythos, she says, in the way she once said, maybe you’re in the wrong business, Rogers. He catches the same warning in her words, in the way her mouth stretches and does not smile.
There is caution in her eyes, caution in her shoulders and the set of them under her hoodie.
It's a well-deserved warning, he thinks, so he tucks his hands into his pockets and considers it.
I don’t know what you mean.
Her lips curl to become something closer to kindness.
You’re not invulnerable, she tells him, tapping his chest with a finger, you’re not beyond mistakes. The be-all and end-all of good and right doesn’t reside in here. Her finger rests over his heart, feather-light. There is a delicacy in all she does, even when her hands blaze blue and break men. If you had met me ten years ago, you would have killed me.
To be fair, I'm pretty sure you would’ve been trying to kill me, he replies, and now she smirks.
Maybe. Just remember, Rogers, you can’t be a good man and a perfect soldier. Her hand falls away, another hand of silver gleaming in both their minds. You have to make a choice, just like the rest of us. And sometimes, we change what we choose.
Understood, he says after a moment, inclining his head. He would wonder how she knows those words but then, his past has never been content to remain merely history. But I’m only human.
Aren’t we all, she murmurs, and there is a ring of truth to it.
rating: g
characters: Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff
warnings: none
summary: The strong man, who has known power all his life, may lose respect for that power. But a weak man knows the value of strength, and knows... compassion.
Steve Rogers has been a weak man. Captain America has always been a strong one.
Don’t buy into your own mythos, she says, in the way she once said, maybe you’re in the wrong business, Rogers. He catches the same warning in her words, in the way her mouth stretches and does not smile.
There is caution in her eyes, caution in her shoulders and the set of them under her hoodie.
It's a well-deserved warning, he thinks, so he tucks his hands into his pockets and considers it.
I don’t know what you mean.
Her lips curl to become something closer to kindness.
You’re not invulnerable, she tells him, tapping his chest with a finger, you’re not beyond mistakes. The be-all and end-all of good and right doesn’t reside in here. Her finger rests over his heart, feather-light. There is a delicacy in all she does, even when her hands blaze blue and break men. If you had met me ten years ago, you would have killed me.
To be fair, I'm pretty sure you would’ve been trying to kill me, he replies, and now she smirks.
Maybe. Just remember, Rogers, you can’t be a good man and a perfect soldier. Her hand falls away, another hand of silver gleaming in both their minds. You have to make a choice, just like the rest of us. And sometimes, we change what we choose.
Understood, he says after a moment, inclining his head. He would wonder how she knows those words but then, his past has never been content to remain merely history. But I’m only human.
Aren’t we all, she murmurs, and there is a ring of truth to it.