milliways_bar | (no subject)

Steve has made good use of his time in Milliways, and his drawings are done.

(The two he's giving away are. The third, he's not sure what to do with.)

He's put them into envelopes with thin pieces of cardboard, one addressed to David Posner and the other to Ellen Park. Ellen's envelope has postcards and photographs, too, from the western leg of the USO tour: California beaches, Nevada deserts, Arizona canyons, Utah rock formations, Washington forests. He's even added a few comics of his own--literally, his own, including the first Captain America issue where he socks Hitler on the jaw right on the cover.

And when he stops at the bar to drop them off, what's waiting for him but another parcel from Ellen? Even the partial pages make him smile. He loves seeing how comics are done in other places and times--he's learning so much.

Dear David,

I redid one of my trading cards for you. (Yes, they've made trading cards about me. It's all a bit silly if you ask me, but maybe it can do you some good.) Whenever you feel like it's too much for you, remember: Captain America has faith in you.

Yours,
Steve Rogers

Dear Ellen,

I'm so sorry I missed you! I was so happy to see the new pages and can't wait to look through them.

I managed to get home since the last time we talked and put your package together: more pictures, this time of the western part of the country. We even got down to Mexico for a night! I had something called Abulita for the first time. It's a spicy hot chocolate, very delicious. I aim to try it at the Bar, too.

I've also included some of the Captain America books for your world's archives, if you think they'd take them. The stories are completely made-up, but as I'm constantly reminded, good for morale.

Since you mentioned you'd never seen the ocean, I decided to give it to you my way. You'll see it someday. I'll take you myself, if it comes to that.

Take care of yourself,
Steve Rogers

With the envelopes in Bar's care, Steve orders that cup of abulita and starts looking over the comics Ellen left for him. Time stands still while he's here--he feels no guilt about putting off his return.

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Steve looks up at the rafters. "I still want to kiss that face."

Orpheus leans forward a little. "You're allowed to."

Steve smiles and says, "Yeah, I figured," as he holds Orpheus's face--it really is a nice face--and kisses him carefully.

He's not worried about people seeing him. He feels safe here.

Orpheus smiles into the kiss, one hand coming up to curl around Steve's bicep.

Well, not around.

Steve has been drinking spicy hot chocolate.

He probably tastes pretty good.

He does indeed, though it's an odd combination with the licorice-y taste of Orpheus' ouzo.

Eventually, he pulls back, leaning his forehead against Steve's, smiling still.

Steve smiles, his eyes closed.

"Yup. Right decision."

"I'm glad you think so," Orpheus murmurs, letting his hand trail up Steve's arm to his shoulder.

"Orpheus," Steve says and catches his hand. "I know you want more. I'm not sure I'm there yet."

Orpheus laughs softly. "Well, not in the bar," he says quietly.

"But I understand. I think."

He plays with Orpheus's fingers. "I know it doesn't have to be serious--that we can just have fun together."

"And you...want something serious?"

He has such a hard time, sometimes, adjusting to different moralities about this kind of thing.

"I don't know," Steve says honestly. "It's wartime. Everything's so screwy."

Orpheus nods carefully. He can remember what that was like. Steve's war, in particular.

"So on the one hand, you want to take what you can get because you might not have another chance, and on the other, you want something you can depend on when nothing else is dependable."

"Yes. Exactly."

He looks at Orpheus thoughtfully.

"Love sounds great. Sex sounds...less complicated."

"It usually is."

He returns that thoughtful look.

"I remember your war."

"What do you remember?"

"I was in France," he says, stroking his thumb over the back of Steve's hand. "I meant to leave. I usually do when there's a war. But I had a...friend. A lover. And he was in the Resistance."

"What happened to him?"

"He didn't make it," Orpheus says simply, picking up his glass again with his free hand.

Steve hooks his hand around the back of Orpheus's neck to pull him close for another kiss.

"I'm sorry," he whispers against his mouth. "I'm so sorry."

Orpheus sighs into the kiss.

"The thing is," he says, not quite pulling away. "Nobody makes it. Not for me."

Steve looks into his eyes.

"My body heals itself. I might live for decades and not look a day older than I do now."

Orpheus gives a soft, dry laugh. "Well, then."

"Sorry," Steve murmurs, dropping his eyes. "That's--that's not important."

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