shieldretired

[shieldretired]

                                "TELL YOU WHAT, we don't give each other black eyes tonight, and everything is civil and normal, I might be up to some real fuckery tomorrow morning, who knows." Probably not, though. He is a little old-fashioned and wants to — do it right. This is probably bullshit since no first time is ever perfect if the locker room talk and the blog articles are anything to go by, but there's also a healthy dose of wishful thinking involved, and anyway, Steve doesn't even have condoms right now, so unless Dean has some hidden in his pockets, they can't do more than fool around a little, anyway.

                              Steve climbs into bed and sticks his legs under the blanket. "The odds are significantly higher of being the little spoon," he informs Dean with a wink. "But I'll try to tell my sleeping brain you prefer the other way around."

He doesn't mean to make it so serious this early into things, but given that Steve wants to share a bed, well... He doesn't want to break his hand on Steve's face in the middle of the night. It doesn't lend well to work, and he's no shining example of SHIELD agent for the most part. Not according to most of the suits.

"Can't believe you use the phrase 'fuck around and find out', and we don't even get to fuck. Cruelty, Rogers. Absolute cruelty," he teases.

"I s'pose I could be down with the bar brawl excuse if worse comes to worse. I haven't shared a bed with someone in... years, and before that, just with my kid brother while we were growing up. If our mutual traumas play nice, what are my odds of being big spoon by morning?"

He's grinning, playful, waggling his eyebrows at him.

#iomadachd #iomadachd: dean #★ ( v: post avengers )

[shieldretired]

                            "YOU KNOW, THIS DOESN'T REALLY CALM ME HERE." Dean is right: Steve would have no problem carrying a protective charm next to his dog tags, but he's been in more than one tight spot over the years, and jewelry can be easily torn off. And what then? "I don't want one of these motherfuckers inside me." It's not only the part where you play puppet to some evil being, it's mainly the fact that it's a demon, and for someone who believes in God and Heaven and Hell like Steve, this is especially nasty business. He puts a hand through his hair, looking a little distraught. Vampires, werewolves, he can deal with that. But demons? "Guess I should let all my underwear get embroidered with that symbol. I never lost my briefs during a fight, at least. Of course, then a demon could still slither up my ass while I take a goddamn shower—"

"Ayep, the one on my chest anyway. The others are for decoration. Technically you could wear it as a protective charm on a necklace or bracelet, but those can get ripped or cut off, so most hunters go for the tattoo."

It's both a blessing and a shame the super serum heals Steve too fast to keep a tattoo. He's not even sure branding would take if that were the case. Personally, he won't ask Steve to endure pain that has no end result.

"Shit... yeah, polishing up on the Latin would probably be good. There's a pretty simple exorcism, but you can't use it on yourself. If a demon possesses you, they basically put you on lockdown. Crosses are good deterrents, holy water, salt... if you ever suspect someone's a demon, you could say 'Christos', and if they are, the eyes go black."

#iomadachd #iomadachd: dean #★ ( v: post avengers )

[shieldretired]

(text: Tony 💩) Relax, you're not my type to Netflix and chill with (text: Tony 💩) it's 20 minutes, Tony, you can stand to stay for a little longer than eating a pizza and making my wifi work requires (text: Tony 💩) hang out with your favorite old geezer

[text: old capsicle]: Right, hipster, I don’t think that’s how it works. [text: old capsicle]: And I know I’m irresistible, but I’m not really up for Netflix and Chill. [text: old capsicle]: Being engaged and everything. [text: old capsicle]: I’m also not quite sure if I trust your judgment about what I like.

#dereiserne #★ ( v: post avengers )

[shieldretired]

                             "SEE, I'M MORE PICKY ABOUT WHISKEY THAN BEER. Guess having a fucking billionaire as a friend rubs off. I don't want to know what a bottle of the stuff he has in his liquor cabinet costs, but damn, it's like an angel's grace rolling down your throat." Maybe he should hint at a nice bottle for his birthday; that's better than getting underwear with a bald eagle again. Steve's head rolls to the side, his gaze upon Dean without a lick of shame. "Ah, it's rather selfish, you know. Who's gonna massage my belly again when I inadvertently eat too much for dinner again? Need my personal belly masseur for that. Also, I missed the last two episodes of Dr. Sexy and have no idea why Piccolo is angry at Ying."

"Oh completely. The variety alone is staggering. The industry is booming even if all the beer is owned by like... two companies at this point. The good beer is independent craft. Whiskey I'm less picky about, but y'know, whiskey's whiskey when it's cheap."

He knew he drank a little too much sometimes, but hell, you see the things he's seen? You'd drink too. He doesn't know how Steve doesn't do it having fought in the war, even if it does nothing for him.

The casual offer catches him off guard and he offers Steve a wry smile in return, closed lips around the fork as he swallows the bite he's just taken.

"Well, when you offer such temptations as staying the night with Captain America, how do I resist?" he asks playfully, winking.

"Think I'll take you up on staying the night if you'll have me."

#iomadachd #iomadachd: dean #★ ( v: post avengers )

[shieldretired]

                              HER WORDS ARE LIKE A PUNCH TO THE FACE. Come to think of it, Steve would rather get pummeled by a mad purple titan again than hear Nora say that. The hand around his lukewarm coffee mug tightens, knuckles turning white, and he swallows visibly. "No, that's alright," he says, "he said he was on a hunt. You know how these things are, he can't always write or call back. Hell, five times out of then, he breaks his phone. I don't know how he does it, really, does he throw them at the ghosts or what?" He laughs briefly, but it sounds hollow and forced. Dean can't be — No. He refuses to think about it. They barely saw each other during the last years because Steve was an internationally wanted fugitive, so not hearing from each other for a couple of weeks is nothing new. He'll call. He has to.

"You survived, I think that's enough. I guess fame really does change people though," she muses, tsking at him with a smirk. It's not much, but if he's smiling, she's doing her job in an unofficial capacity. She's helping as a friend now, and she'll try to keep to that as long as he wants a friend in this uncertain future.

Her expression goes rigid at his commentary, and she generally has a pretty good poker face, but not now. Not at the mention of Dean. Her other troublemaker, and honestly, the pair of them dating seemed inevitable when she thought about it. They both conspired more than once to drive her up the wall. HR had had a field day with the discrepancy in clearance and seniority.

He doesn't know, and there are very few equipped to tell him. Fewer still knew them both. It falls to her as heavy as an avalanche. She has to take a breath to steady herself.

"Oh... oh Steve. We haven't had contact with Dean since the Snap, I'm so sorry."

#iomadachd #iomadachd: dean #★ ( v: post infinity war ) #(still mad about this calico)

[shieldretired]

[text: John (Gardener)] Oh, I've already given speeches about the terrible taste of modern bananas, the ugliness of newspaper fonts in the 21st century, the merits of getting your milk delivered by the milkman, and how cabbage tastes way better these days [text: John (Gardener)] you'll find out soon enough I suppose 😉 [text: John (Gardener)] Okay, I'll pick you up Saturday at 3 at Trader Joe's. Wear something comfy, I'm taking the bike

[text: Mr Rogers] Should I ask what else your speeches could be about? [text: Mr Rogers] My place is just over in Hartsdale

#storyofwhoiam #storyofwhoiam: john #★ ( v: post endgame )

[shieldretired]

                            "UM," STEVE MAKES, BLINKING. It's not that much of a surprise, honestly, because he's been around veterans long enough to know that PTSD messes with your head and that it chooses the time when you're most vulnerable to come out: at night. (He does have some very ugly nightmares of his own, after all, even if he tries to downplay them in front of his shrink.) He just never thought that it could impair his ability to sleep next to the guy he has a major crush on. Now he's a little worried, too.

                            "Well, there's no weapon under the pillow here, so at least nobody gets shot," he tries to brighten the mood. "And I really don't know what will happen. I haven't slept in one bed with anyone else since the war. I guess we'll fuck around and find out?" Well, minus the fucking, of course. "And if we wake up with black eyes tomorrow, we'll say we've been in a bar brawl."

If Steve said it aloud, a supernatural Cold War wouldn't be a totally inaccurate description. Sure there's constant fighting, but no one side is ever truly winning. It just stays balanced as it can be. If it tips one way or another, things fall apart in weirder and weirder ways.

He snorts softly at the exclamation that he's sexy. He doesn't feel sexy, but he appreciates the compliment all the same. If it makes Steve smile, he figures it's alright to look like a doofus for one night.

"Uh..." he begins, and it feels just as lame as it sounds.

"Better question? What positions are least likely to trigger either of us cold cocking the other in the middle of the night? It's been a while since I spooned anyone, tend to sleep on my stomach with a weapon under the pillow if I'm bein' honest."

#iomadachd #iomadachd: dean #★ ( v: pre avengers )

[shieldretired]

                             "SO THAT'S WHAT YOUR TATTOO IS FOR? Anti-possession?" Steve has seen it, of course (he's a sucker for tattoos, sue him, especially if it's on the body of a very hot guy), but he didn't think much about the meaning. "Man, that fucking sucks, I can't get any tattoos. They're gone after 2 hours because my body just sheds the cells and pushes the ink out or something," he says, sounding mad. He wants to get some ink, not only because it would prevent him from playing puppet to a demon, but also because he could etch something that's personally important to him permanently into his skin. Not with the super-serum, though. Goddamn. "Great, seems like I need to polish up my Latin for some exorcism. Can I even exorcize myself?"

He chuckles a little, grinning big. "If only it was just a pair of fangs. The vampires I come across? The entire mouth is fangs, so probably your shield would be just fine, but a little extra offensive measure wouldn't go fuckin' amiss."

Really, he's glad Steve is taking to it well enough, some can't cope with the idea. However, after you fight alongside and against aliens, is it really so messed up to think ghosts are real?

"Trust me, I also don't want them possessing you, Steve. Unfortunately, very real. Really the only guaranteed way to keep 'em out is an anti-possession tattoo. After that are hex bags and charms, which work alright unless you lose the fuckers. Holy water and salt are decent deterrents, along with rattling off an exorcism."

#iomadachd #iomadachd: dean #★ ( v: post avengers )

[shieldretired]

                             THE THING IS: STEVE DOESN'T BLAME TONY. How could he have known? He solved a technological problem for SHIELD without even thinking it could benefit the bad guys, too, because SHIELD was supposed to be different, the agency of the good guys that fight the deranged God from another realm and his alien army. It may be hypocritical of him to blame himself then because how could Steve have known, but in his mind, he had the twisted-up idea that there were signs if he had just cared to look more closely. 

                              What he does blame Tony for is reaching for a bottle of alcohol instead of his Iron Man suit, though. He could be out there searching for Bucky instead of getting fucked up. He could root out Hydra splinter cells! Everything would be better than drowning his sorrow and anger in a fucking bottle, while Steve can't do much else than wait until his damn body knits itself back together.

                           "So what? I'm supposed to sit here and look pretty and let others handle this shitshow just because I got fooled once?" he barks back. "No. I'm going to end this once and for all. I won't rest until the last Hydra member is dead or captured." Oh, if Tony knew that Steve used these exact words once before when sitting in a bombed-out pub in London. "And I've had worse. My whole youth was more painful than this. Now get outta my way." He gets to his feet with the help of the little tray-table thing attached to the rolling file cabinet next to the bed and then aims for the door to the hallway. He couldn't care less that his pasty ass is hanging out of his flimsy hospital gown.

Come to think of it, a punch to the face would have been less painful – even if it had been by a fist of a super soldier. He could have dealt with that. He could have dealt with the physical pain. BUT THIS? All of this was just… It had pushed him over the edge already. It had been the reason he had found himself with a bottle in one and a glass in the other hand. SHIELD HAD FALLEN. Steve Rogers had nearly died trying to save what there was to save. And as much as Tony liked to pretend he didn’t care about anything, especially not Captain America… He couldn’t NOT care. Maybe he even cared too much. It would explain the pain in his heart, not unlike the pain he felt when the arc reactor was offline.

Come to think of it – maybe he should have stayed home. Another drink to keep him company. He was making it all worse now. Again. He had a talent for that, he kept telling himself. He had made SHIELD – HYDRA – harder to defeat after all. Weapons delivered. Playing right into their hands. It was awfully familiar.

“ – and you think they didn’t benefit from me?! You think they didn’t fucking use me?!” All he could do was laugh; a choked sound leaving his throat dry, wishing for a drink he knew he shouldn’t touch. “ – Right! You get to act all high and might and like you’re the only one whose fault all of this is. RIGHT ATLAS! I can just fucking drown all sorrows ‘cause that’s clearly working SO WELL.” The bitterness was leaving his throat even dryer; a taste to his own tongue that made him want to throw up, but he swallowed against it. He was trying to make a point somewhere – he was not going to have this ruined.

“ – You’re in NO condition to just do this lone wolf thing, Rogers. I remember what’ya told me about your buddy, believe me – and I’m not even fucking arguing with you ‘bout if he deserved any of this, but SHIT, Rogers, this is beyond any of us! Do you think we’d been fooled this easily if it wasn’t?”

#dereiserne #★ ( v: post winter soldier )

[shieldretired]

                       HE SMIRKS. "Oh, believe me, Nick is a big softie. You just gotta meet him when he's intoxicated at one of Tony's parties. Then he'll do almost anything for you as long as you don't tell another soul what weird shit he babbled about." He sits on his Harley, legs spread wide, and puts the key in the ignition without turning it. "You gotta bend the rules, Dean. Bend them until they're almost breaking." He winks. "I can write them for you. My handwriting is very nice, you can ask Sister Mary Clarence. I'm sure that evil hag is still alive today. If there isn't a mission, I'm usually just torturing my team with exercises. Just send me a text, and I'll come by and play your secretary. Then you can give your boss a report written like a love letter."

"HR in general is terrifying. We don't get along. I... okay, I'll accept STRIKE is probably full of soft bits, but Fury? Not a fuckin' chance. I refuse to believe the possibility."

He tilts his head, pulling his own keys out and thumbing for the actual one he needs.

"My handwriting is apparently an abomination before God. I still have to do them, but I have to type them instead of writing them. It's a whole thing where I offend everyone and everything in SHIELD except you and my department head. And even then... well, going from no rules to all the rules sucks ass."

#iomadachd #★ ( v: post avengers )

[shieldretired]

                       HE HAS THE DECENCY TO LOOK SHEEPISH. God, the last time someone chid him for his foul language was... probably Father Timothy, but he's a Man of the Church, that's different. Steve usually tries to behave whenever he's there, whereas he never holds back in his own four walls. But that's his mother, and although he's almost forty years old now (ignoring the whole time spent in the ice), he instantly feels like a small boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

                       "But Ma, if someone knows what it's like to get blasted into a new century, it's me. I could have helped you better than any of their shrinks. He––ck," he catches himself before he can say hell, "I could have told them that you're tough and don't like to be mollycoddled." He rubs a hand over his face, quickly getting pulled out of his anger by her small hand on his arm. She's right. It doesn't matter at all anymore, not even that Thanos and their whole time heist seem to have something to do with her sudden appearance. Steve should enjoy it while he can. "Yeah, Ma, it's just me and Cookie here. I bought the place a couple of months ago. There's still a lot to do, but I got the time now. I'm... technically retired, I assume. There was a terrible war, even worse than the Great War, where Dad died, and I signed up for it, of course. I wanted to help. Then, I ended up in the future, and it was just... one battle after another. But now I'm done, and I'm trying to tell myself that it's alright. It still feels weird, to be honest."

Sarah's lips split into a delighted grin when Cookie flops onto the ground, a soft laugh leaving her. "He's so sweet." Her arms slip from her jacket, sliding it from her shoulders and tentatively resting it on the back of the chair before sitting down.

"Steven - Mind your language." Sarah tuts however her expression's filled with fondness as she looks over at him. "I think it's more that they were worried it'd be too much for me. They were using a gentle approach but I'd much prefer to charge right in. Don't be annoyed with them, I'm here now, aren't I?" Her hand reaches for his across the table, giving him a gentle squeeze. "Honestly? I don't understand it. Something about a multiverse and timelines and some alien man snapping his fingers." She looks down at their hands. "Don't fully believe it myself. Feels like a dream. So I'm determined to enjoy every second, just in case I wake up." Her thumb strokes across his knuckles. "Tell me more about you? Are you living here alone?"

#sioraiocht #★ ( v: post endgame )

[shieldretired]

[text: Clint 🧝‍♂️] Wait, YOU crashed into the tree? [text: Clint 🧝‍♂️] And left corpses of mafia guys on the ice rink? [text: Clint 🧝‍♂️] I saw that on the news [text: Clint 🧝‍♂️] What the fuck, Clint

[text: capsicle] yes, Sam is but these cops grew up with you as their Captain America [text: capsicle] to them, you are still a hero [text: capsicle] I might have been involved in an incident in Rockfellar Center...

#defectivexfragmented #★ ( v: post endgame )

[shieldretired]

(text: Tony 💩) Oh, get a grip, I had a heart condition before it was cool (text: Tony 💩) You haven't? That's a shame, I think you'd like it (text: Tony 💩) we can watch the first episode when you're here. It's only 20 minutes

[text: old capsicle]: Listen, I do not have wrinkles. [text: old capsicle]: Also those gray hairs you refer to? That’s a side effect of the palladium poisoning. [text: old capsicle]: You’re just making fun of a man with a heart condition, Rogers. [text: old capsicle]: Also apparently your local tech support. [text: old capsicle]: I don’t think I’ve actually watched it.

#dereiserne #★ ( v: post endgame )

[shieldretired]

                               "YOU KNOW, I SHOULD HAVE SEEN THAT COMING. I'm not that great of a tactician, obviously." But it's said with a cheeky smile because Steve can get behind a telenovela for his boyfriend. He opens the car door for Dean out of some old-fashioned gentleman upbringing and because Dean is injured, then climbs in the car himself and starts the motor. Traffic is a bitch at this time of day, but Steve doesn't mind because the low rumble of the SUV seems to do wonders for Dean's sleep-deprived self. After about 40 minutes, though, they reach the brownstone Steve is staying in, and he's even lucky enough to find a parking spot right in front of the door. Because Dean is still dozing, Steve makes the executive decision to carry him up the stairs, which ears him half-asleep bitching on Dean's part, but he's still letting him haul his sorry ass upstairs, so he takes the win. Putting him gently on the couch, Steve puts an afghan over his legs and grabs him a bottle of water from the kitchen before he sits down himself.

Dean sticks out his tongue with a playful little nyeh, but he'll bring Steve around to it yet.

After all, he's supposed to sit on Steve's couch and do nothing for a couple days. He intends to do something about it beyond use him as a butler, though.

"My first order is watch a couple episodes with me, butler," he teases, limping after him once the elevator doors open, watching as he grabs something from the motor pool.

"I also would not say no to back rubs. If anyone can get the knots out of my shoulders, I expect it to be a super soldier," he adds after a moment, climbing into the SUV with only a little difficulty. He doesn't want to take advantage of Steve's hospitality largely because being able to stay somewhere other than the barracks is hospitality enough in his opinion.

He'll be asleep long before they make it back to Steve's place.

#iomadachd #★ ( v: post avengers )

[shieldretired]

[text: Amy ✌️] Maybe there's a bit of a lesbian inside me, too [text: Amy ✌️] do NOT turn this into something lewd [text: Amy ✌️] And do NOT give me nasty sex details, thanks a lot

[text: Cpt. Breestie] Okay I think we're jumping the gun there a little huh [text: Cpt. Breestie] Aren't lesbians supposed to be the ones inclined to u-hauling rather than the gay old men? 🙃 [text: Cpt. Breestie] If it ends up amazing, you can hear all about the great sex

#storyofwhoiam #★ ( v: post endgame )

[shieldretired]

                               "OH NO, THERE'S WAY, WAY TOO MUCH MONEY IN THE ALCOHOL INDUSTRY THESE DAYS. The economy wouldn't survive another Prohibition." And Steve is glad for it; he by no means needs alcohol (and it doesn't affect him anymore, anyway), but he likes the taste now and then. Dean, though? Well, Steve needs to keep a closer eye on it, but the guy can drink a lot. He doesn't know if that's healthy, so he's glad he's digging into the alcohol-free tiramisu right now. "You do that. You can take the rest home with you if you want to." He puts his head on the backrest of the couch, squinting at the hunter. "Or you can stay. And eat it for breakfast tomorrow," Steve adds with a boyish smile. 

Dean furrows his brows, mouthing 'herbal liquors' in confusion. He knows his liquors and beers damn well. Better than your average twenty-something, but the idea of herbal liquor has him floundering slightly.

"Your neighbor sounds like a sadist, gonna be honest. I'm a whiskey and beer guy myself. I heard moonshine and bathtub gin got... interesting during Prohibition. America would fuckin' riot before they banned alcohol again."

He hums around a bit of tiramisu, savoring the taste of coffee and chocolate and cream on his tongue.

"Hm? Oh fuck yeah. Don't think I can finish this all on my own, even with as big as my eyes are. It's just a little... much. Gonna give it my best shot, though."

#iomadachd #iomadachd: dean #★ ( v: post avengers )

[shieldretired]

                               "GOTCHA," HE MURMURS AGAINST THOR'S LIPS, jerking him slowly and gently at first, more a soft graze of his fingertips, really, but it soon becomes quicker, especially when Thor starts to touch him in return. His head is spinning and he feels dizzy, he feels good, and he can't help the needy little thrusts into Thor's hand nor the sloppy, deep kisses they're still sharing. "That's –– that feels good, keep doing it," Steve pants aginst the other's lips before he pulls away slightly to look down to where they're jerking each other off in the same rhythm now. The sight is obscene. It makes him groan out loud.

A pang of pride has Thor grinning: that’s the usual reaction he got and Steve’s not immune to it, either. “Shh, come here,” he instructed, closing the gap between them to claim Steve’s lips in a scorching kiss.

Thor's hands trailed down Steve's smooth chest, letting the other guide him to bed. With dark eyes, he covered the retired captain’s body with his own, careful not to crush him under his weight.

Steve’s firm fingers around him, Thor moaned against his lips, pushing forward. “Start slow,” he instructed, kissing his jaw, “then increase it,” he closed his own hand around Cap’s erection, massaging it with electric fingers.

#the-mjolnir-owner #★ ( v: post endgame ) #lemon