America's Favorite Pastime

[onlyforthedream]

I missed a lot in my years spent dormant and adrift in the North Atlantic. The sum total of minute cultural detail that passed me by is baffling in its magnitude, and I'm afraid no matter how much time I spend trying to catch up it's a moot endeavor. There were bigger things, though, more important things that I missed. The death of the president

Comments

[theboywhowaited]

Oh Christ, it was That Bloke.

Steve Rogers. Mr. Popular without even having been on the island one day. Not that Rory begrudged him visitors. It wasn't as though he could leave the clinic; he had been seriously knocked around. Everyone deserved friends, whether you had to work to make friendships anew or you were just lucky enough to have them intact when arriving in an inexplicable pocket dimension. But having to give a sponge bath to the man possessed the only true definition of washboard abs did something to the ego of a man who wore skinny jeans because they fit.

And now he was asking him to throw a baseball like he was some American ideal that ran around shirtless and ate apple pie, too.

"...Sure," he said all the same because, Rory's personal issues aside, Steve Rogers was a nice guy. Thankfully, though completely and utterly lacking in apparent testosterone needed to hang out with these two, Rory could throw a ball with passing accuracy. "Is this, what, practice?" he asked, a professionally concerned glance passing over Steve.

[onlyapassenger]

Recognizing the guy as the nurse who scrubbed in on Steve's surgery -- Rory Williams, his brain supplied -- Bucky has the good grace to not look as pleased with himself as he felt just a second ago, having proved, to an extent his point.

"He's taking it easy, don't worry."

[onlyforthedream]

"Physical therapy," I say, catching the ball easily out of the air and giving the Rory an appreciative nod for a dead-on throw.

"How are you, Rory?"

[theboywhowaited]

Rory didn't have a problem with physical therapy or physical therapy being used as excuse to mess around a little. He did prefer keeping people out of the clinic as much as possible, except during his clinic shifts when simple injuries were more than acceptable. Steve damaging his shoulder again would be too much time in the clinic according to Rory's standards.

He pushed his hands into his pockets and strolled closer, but out of the way of any ball trajectories. "Pretty good, thanks. Another day in paradise," he answered wryly. Yesterday hadn't been so paradise-like, with Desmond passing away. But the sun did keep shining regardless. "How are you both?"

[onlyapassenger]

Bucky appreciates the wryness in Rory's voice, if only because that statement said with anything approaching sincerity just isn't something Bucky's capable of agreeing with, not after the events of last month. Jason's hand is still messed up from being buried alive in a child's coffin, a constant physical reminder of the crap this island could pull, and no amount of sunshine could change that fact.

"Good to go," says Bucky, the old military slang rolling off his tongue. Gesturing between himself and Steve, he pulls off his glove, and adds, "You wanna join us? I don't need the glove."

[onlyforthedream]

"Doing just fine," I say, with an encouraging nod at Bucky's offer. Rory seems like a nice kid, good humored, but reserved.

"I was sad to hear about Mr. Desmond. I had spoken with him earlier in the day, gone back to see Meredith in the evening, and in the interim he had passed."

[theboywhowaited]

Rory looked doubtfully at the glove but took it anyway. "Not sure this'll help me all that much, but thanks," he said. It looked like an awkward thing not at all shaped like a hand and it took him a bit to get his fingers in the right slots. Who had thought this thing up, really?

"Yeah," Rory said in a subdued tone of voice as he fixed his glove. "I think there's going to be a service. Not sure. It's not something that happens around here all that often, you know?"