[ the accommodations could have been better. but, when you were trying to lay low and blend in, you couldn't really check into some overpriced hotel and give the man at the front desk your credit card or large amounts of cash. both would draw suspicion so you went to the next best thing: a motel outside the city limits that looked straight out of the seventies.
it wasn't quite as old as steve but it definitely needed a new coat of paint. it was perfect. it wasn't like they were going to stay for long and even with the one big bed, neither of them would probably sleep. they'd argue about it, go over the consequences of exhaustion but maybe someone would fall asleep sitting up or maybe not.
the bed's a risk anyway. he doesn't even know what color the comforter is and he doesn't want to pull it back to see what's underneath.
no, steve's just going to bring in their vending machine dinner and toss it onto the small table. there are weapons spread out across the bed and his shield is against a wall but they haven't needed anything lately.
it was quiet. that meant very little besides that they'd hidden well. it wouldn't last. ]
I got Cheetos.
[ dinner of champions? who didn't want a dinner that turned your finger orange and permanently stained your teeth? fritos were more steve's thing but the bag had gotten stuck and shaking the thing till it spit out what he wanted hadn't been a possible.
not with the motel's owner standing right there, trying to talk to him about his life and his career aspirations. he'd only escaped by faking a phone call and talking to dial tone.
Cheetos. [ the word echoes in the small room, dry syllables trying to be stern betrayed by the faint hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth. ] I hope you got the Extra Hot, at least.
[ would it be enough to satisfy them both? definitely not. but it was something to take the edge off, not so much in terms of hunger but in nerves, a pattern of hand to bag to mouth that provided some focus for their overactive minds. it was, at least, something to tide them over while they waited for whatever delivery service she's managed to convince owes her a credit brings something more akin to actual food to the door. or a door. a few rooms down, a fake name, some credit card she found left in a lost and found box, an exceptionally good promotion code... all in a day's work.
but from her perch in the middle of said king bed, natasha gestures at the space beside her. there's enough room, even if he doesn't plan to sleep. he doesn't need to just stand there all night. ]
Lucky for you, I got Chinese. ETA's maybe twenty minutes if the driver doesn't get lost.
[ he tosses the orange colored monstrosity her way before pulling his jacket and rolling his shoulders. tension is nothing new but sometimes he feels it more than others. tonight, everything feels tight and coiled as if preparing for something.
steve really hopes it's not a harbinger.
he's going to decidedly not think about that as he comes over and drops down beside her, blowing out a breath and leaning back against a thin pillow that's no doubt been laundered once since someone had tossed it on the bed.
[ she shrugs. the laptop's tucked in her bag, phone on the nightstand; for once, she hadn't been doing much of anything at all. ]
Meditating, actually.
[ or she was. a good way to pass the time while steve went on his so-called snack runs, the ones that were really an opportunity for him to scout out the place once an hour on the hour. he never could just... relax. ]
[ he's barely closed his mouth from making the offer when her reply sounds in the air between them. ]
Steve. [ she's meditated in the middle of one of tony's long diatribes about technological throttling by international arms committees, she can meditate in front of 'overly accommodating by default' steve rogers. ] It's fine.
[ she's not using her pillow because she's not laying down. there was a logic to this. ]
[ sitting and just being still worked for a bit but then he started feeling that ever encroaching feeling of wasting time. like he could be up and walking, planning, plotting, doing something that would benefit them in the future.
yes, he knows that every person needs to rest but he doesn't want to rest too much. especially not with the situation as it is currently. ]
I think we can afford fifteen minutes of not thinking.
[ they've been careful. cautious. they've meticulously chosen routes and plotted courses that keep them as under the radar as possible, and as the hours wane into night, natasha allows herself to relax. not entirely — she still sleeps in a tank top and leggings, after all, never quite off-duty — but enough.
steve, on the other hand, never does. he wears that stress taut across his shoulders, spine all too straight. she knows he can bear it, but she also knows a shield that cannot bend may eventually shatter. ]
[ the answer to that should be simple. he should be able to say 'yes, he's capable' but lately, he hasn't been able to get his mind to quiet down. he was the one who'd gotten them into this mess, he was the reason his friends had been locked up for a time, and he was the reason they couldn't go home. ]
I don't know.
[ he looks over at her and shrugs. ] Seems like there's always something to think about. There's things to do. And I've gotta do them.
[ her reminder is gentle, but firm. they can only do so much each day, only accomplish one thing at a time — and from the four walls of their motel room, they can do nothing but wait for the next day to provide another opportunity to act.
and while his personal sacrifices and choice to wear the weight of the entire world on his shoulder certainly were admirable, they weren't exactly self-sustaining. eventually, even the most hardened of soldiers needs r&r. ]
You don't win everything with a fight. Remember the mall?
[ how easy it was to blend in, rather than push back. act normal, and be overlooked. ]
[ she was right. he doesn't want her to be right but she is right. that doesn't mean he's going to be able to stop thinking or pacing or trying to figure out how to fix all the things he's broken but he can admit that she's right.
to himself. ]
You telling me this doesn't mean I can just turn it off.
[ it wasn't that easy. not for him. and it wouldn't ever be. not with the world in the state that it was and every single person breathing down their necks. ]
[ at least a super soldier was unlikely to bleed profusely in the learning curve phase where every attempt means stabbing fingers with impossibly small needles.
she doesn't think he'll pick up a crafting gig, though — for a variety of reasons, the least of which being their limited budget and the likelihood of running into a nosy housewife at the local craft store. but it would be helpful, natasha thinks, to have something else for him to focus on. something that will eat up his attention in the hours between daylight. ]
I'd say getting yourself a girlfriend, but you keep shooting down all my reasonable suggestions.
[ both of those suggestions get a look from him that's equal parts bemused and 'be serious.' he's not going to take up crafting and he doesn't want or need a girlfriend. ]
Or I could keep doing what I'm doing.
[ it hadn't served him that terribly so far. ]
Besides, no one wants to be connected to me with the life I lead. You know that.
[ he could be here one day and gone the next. there were no guarantees. ]
Mm. [ a hum, considering, as she rests an elbow on her knee, chin settling in her palm. a Look. ] Nobody, huh?
[ what was she doing, then? being connected to him, living the same life? she's mostly kidding, but there's a ripple of something else lurking just under the surface. a hint at the very real loyalty she's given him despite all her training telling her to do the opposite. ]
[ the look he gives her is apologetic and contrite. he knows what she's given up to be here and he wouldn't have had her do it if it had been his choice. but he couldn't make her do anything. no one could make her do anything she didn't want to do. ]
But you have to know I wish you weren't here. Not because I don't value what you but because this is a mess. And it's my mess. No one else's.
[ they'd let the accords split them like a log, and now look where they were. scattered to the winds, unable to rely on each other; if some larger force wanted them vulnerable, they'd certainly gotten their way.
but natasha wasn't going to just leave steve to exist on the run on his own, or to shoulder that burden alone either. she owed him that, at least. ]
Don't make it worse by telling a girl you wish she'd leave you alone, okay?
[ maybe that's what the words sounded like but it's not what he was trying to express. he sighs and finally sits down, frustrated and at a loss. he doesn't know how to really say what he wants to say. ]
Besides, even if I was saying that, you wouldn't listen. [ stubborn. ] But that's not what I mean.
[ he'd argue until he couldn't anymore that it was everyone's mess. it really wasn't. he's going to carry the burden like a scarlet letter until the day he dies. ] But we're sitting in an off the map motel room and we shouldn't be. You shouldn't be.
What should I be doing? Playing Stark clean-up like I did when I recruited him?
[ that had been the defining line, the dragged divider in the sand between them. choose a side: tony or steve, going with the accords or against them. and while natasha had signed the accords, and while she'd watched as they made steve into the enemy of the state for simply standing against them, she couldn't let him go off on his own. he needed her, and she owed him.
so here she was, on a motel bed, arguing with captain america to stand the hell down for exactly one night. what a turn of events. ]
I'm where I want to be, okay. No amount of moral grandstanding from you is going to change that.
[ he's quiet for a few moments, eyes on her. there's no anger there, not even disappointment. guilt, of course, sits heavily across his shoulders but he knows that he's not the only one to deal with that. he's not unique in that regard. ]
What if I asked nicely?
[ the corners of his mouth flick up, a ghost of a smile more than anything else. it's not a serious question. he's not trying to pick a fight with her because she's the only person he has right now and he needs her. even if he hates that she's involved, that he might ruin her life a little more, he needs her. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
post civil war-ish i guess? on the run shenans.
it wasn't quite as old as steve but it definitely needed a new coat of paint. it was perfect. it wasn't like they were going to stay for long and even with the one big bed, neither of them would probably sleep. they'd argue about it, go over the consequences of exhaustion but maybe someone would fall asleep sitting up or maybe not.
the bed's a risk anyway. he doesn't even know what color the comforter is and he doesn't want to pull it back to see what's underneath.
no, steve's just going to bring in their vending machine dinner and toss it onto the small table. there are weapons spread out across the bed and his shield is against a wall but they haven't needed anything lately.
it was quiet. that meant very little besides that they'd hidden well. it wouldn't last. ]
I got Cheetos.
[ dinner of champions? who didn't want a dinner that turned your finger orange and permanently stained your teeth? fritos were more steve's thing but the bag had gotten stuck and shaking the thing till it spit out what he wanted hadn't been a possible.
not with the motel's owner standing right there, trying to talk to him about his life and his career aspirations. he'd only escaped by faking a phone call and talking to dial tone.
he'd feel bad about that later. ]
no subject
[ would it be enough to satisfy them both? definitely not. but it was something to take the edge off, not so much in terms of hunger but in nerves, a pattern of hand to bag to mouth that provided some focus for their overactive minds. it was, at least, something to tide them over while they waited for whatever delivery service she's managed to convince owes her a credit brings something more akin to actual food to the door. or a door. a few rooms down, a fake name, some credit card she found left in a lost and found box, an exceptionally good promotion code... all in a day's work.
but from her perch in the middle of said king bed, natasha gestures at the space beside her. there's enough room, even if he doesn't plan to sleep. he doesn't need to just stand there all night. ]
Lucky for you, I got Chinese. ETA's maybe twenty minutes if the driver doesn't get lost.
no subject
[ he tosses the orange colored monstrosity her way before pulling his jacket and rolling his shoulders. tension is nothing new but sometimes he feels it more than others. tonight, everything feels tight and coiled as if preparing for something.
steve really hopes it's not a harbinger.
he's going to decidedly not think about that as he comes over and drops down beside her, blowing out a breath and leaning back against a thin pillow that's no doubt been laundered once since someone had tossed it on the bed.
he hates hotels. ]
What are you doing?
no subject
Meditating, actually.
[ or she was. a good way to pass the time while steve went on his so-called snack runs, the ones that were really an opportunity for him to scout out the place once an hour on the hour. he never could just... relax. ]
The pillow's not going to bite you.
no subject
[ hotel room pillows were not something he put much trust in. ]
I don't exactly see you using your pillow very much.
[ because she was smart. ]
I can leave if you want to get back to your meditation. There's some good walking space out there.
no subject
Steve. [ she's meditated in the middle of one of tony's long diatribes about technological throttling by international arms committees, she can meditate in front of 'overly accommodating by default' steve rogers. ] It's fine.
[ she's not using her pillow because she's not laying down. there was a logic to this. ]
I think you've done enough pacing for this week.
no subject
[ ...shut up. ]
Besides, it helps me think.
[ sitting and just being still worked for a bit but then he started feeling that ever encroaching feeling of wasting time. like he could be up and walking, planning, plotting, doing something that would benefit them in the future.
yes, he knows that every person needs to rest but he doesn't want to rest too much. especially not with the situation as it is currently. ]
no subject
[ they've been careful. cautious. they've meticulously chosen routes and plotted courses that keep them as under the radar as possible, and as the hours wane into night, natasha allows herself to relax. not entirely — she still sleeps in a tank top and leggings, after all, never quite off-duty — but enough.
steve, on the other hand, never does. he wears that stress taut across his shoulders, spine all too straight. she knows he can bear it, but she also knows a shield that cannot bend may eventually shatter. ]
Are you capable of not thinking?
no subject
I don't know.
[ he looks over at her and shrugs. ] Seems like there's always something to think about. There's things to do. And I've gotta do them.
[ because no one else would. ]
no subject
[ her reminder is gentle, but firm. they can only do so much each day, only accomplish one thing at a time — and from the four walls of their motel room, they can do nothing but wait for the next day to provide another opportunity to act.
and while his personal sacrifices and choice to wear the weight of the entire world on his shoulder certainly were admirable, they weren't exactly self-sustaining. eventually, even the most hardened of soldiers needs r&r. ]
You don't win everything with a fight. Remember the mall?
[ how easy it was to blend in, rather than push back. act normal, and be overlooked. ]
no subject
to himself. ]
You telling me this doesn't mean I can just turn it off.
[ it wasn't that easy. not for him. and it wouldn't ever be. not with the world in the state that it was and every single person breathing down their necks. ]
no subject
[ at least a super soldier was unlikely to bleed profusely in the learning curve phase where every attempt means stabbing fingers with impossibly small needles.
she doesn't think he'll pick up a crafting gig, though — for a variety of reasons, the least of which being their limited budget and the likelihood of running into a nosy housewife at the local craft store. but it would be helpful, natasha thinks, to have something else for him to focus on. something that will eat up his attention in the hours between daylight. ]
I'd say getting yourself a girlfriend, but you keep shooting down all my reasonable suggestions.
no subject
Or I could keep doing what I'm doing.
[ it hadn't served him that terribly so far. ]
Besides, no one wants to be connected to me with the life I lead. You know that.
[ he could be here one day and gone the next. there were no guarantees. ]
no subject
[ what was she doing, then? being connected to him, living the same life? she's mostly kidding, but there's a ripple of something else lurking just under the surface. a hint at the very real loyalty she's given him despite all her training telling her to do the opposite. ]
no subject
[ the look he gives her is apologetic and contrite. he knows what she's given up to be here and he wouldn't have had her do it if it had been his choice. but he couldn't make her do anything. no one could make her do anything she didn't want to do. ]
But you have to know I wish you weren't here. Not because I don't value what you but because this is a mess. And it's my mess. No one else's.
no subject
[ they'd let the accords split them like a log, and now look where they were. scattered to the winds, unable to rely on each other; if some larger force wanted them vulnerable, they'd certainly gotten their way.
but natasha wasn't going to just leave steve to exist on the run on his own, or to shoulder that burden alone either. she owed him that, at least. ]
Don't make it worse by telling a girl you wish she'd leave you alone, okay?
no subject
[ maybe that's what the words sounded like but it's not what he was trying to express. he sighs and finally sits down, frustrated and at a loss. he doesn't know how to really say what he wants to say. ]
Besides, even if I was saying that, you wouldn't listen. [ stubborn. ] But that's not what I mean.
[ he'd argue until he couldn't anymore that it was everyone's mess. it really wasn't. he's going to carry the burden like a scarlet letter until the day he dies. ] But we're sitting in an off the map motel room and we shouldn't be. You shouldn't be.
no subject
[ that had been the defining line, the dragged divider in the sand between them. choose a side: tony or steve, going with the accords or against them. and while natasha had signed the accords, and while she'd watched as they made steve into the enemy of the state for simply standing against them, she couldn't let him go off on his own. he needed her, and she owed him.
so here she was, on a motel bed, arguing with captain america to stand the hell down for exactly one night. what a turn of events. ]
I'm where I want to be, okay. No amount of moral grandstanding from you is going to change that.
no subject
What if I asked nicely?
[ the corners of his mouth flick up, a ghost of a smile more than anything else. it's not a serious question. he's not trying to pick a fight with her because she's the only person he has right now and he needs her. even if he hates that she's involved, that he might ruin her life a little more, he needs her. ]
I can say please and thank you, even.