agoodyarn | THE RANDOMEST POST

[Prompt: sisters being lazy and texting each other via the Manual (Nita's book + Spot?) in the same room.]

steve and howard meeting after they haven't seen each other in a very long time.

[Years after Superman has become a hero, he meets the Flash again?]

code_or_dair: Did anyone pick up any juice at the store this week?

It'd been years, of course. He'd gone, every summer, for years. Summer, because that was when the ice was the easiest to read through, see through, when there was less of it and thus, a greater chance of finding what he was looking for. Who he was looking for.

But despite all the money and all the effort that he'd put into the search, despite the fact that he came out every year like clockwork, he almost couldn't believe it when the cabin boy came shouting for him, when the men started turning the boat to go back. He didn't let himself believe, didn't let himself even think about it until he was trotting across the ice and slowly lowering himself down into the strange cavernous inside of the plane. It's been years and he's older, creakier; he'll be sore for weeks after this short ride in the rig, but he has to be the one. Has to be the one to look, to find him.

He almost falls over as he uncovers the shield.

His heart is a block of ice even bigger than the one they'd pulled the damn plane from as they start chipping him out and he finds himself snapping at the workers in ways he never has, because he hates the idea of damaging--

Hurting--

Damaging him.

Of course he nearly spins around and kisses the man who announces that they're not carrying out a body.

There's a whirlwind of activity, only a small percentage of it based around dealing with the plane itself. No, Howard's focus is on Steve, goddamn Steve Rogers who was too stubborn to die, too stubborn to even age. Steve Rogers who was going to turn their worlds upside down and tear their hearts down from the bottom up.

When Steve wakes up, it'll be in a comfortable room in a mansion on Long Island. He'll be alone, in good clothes on a warm bed, and Howard will be on the way from where he's been working in his lab with a video feed on one screen to let him know when he has to drop everything and head upstairs.

The sad fact is that Clark doesn't get to go back to Central City very much anymore. There'd been a time where he'd spent most summers here, hanging out at STAR Labs and working with the Flash. But since he'd gone off to college, since he'd gone around the world finishing his degree as he got his hands dirty doing all manner of on-the-spot journalism, there just hadn't been the time, let alone the opportunity.

But given that he happened to be in the city. And given that there was a warp in one of the train tracks...

It's nice to be able to smile over at Barry, confident and unstrained, as he holds up the tracks while the train goes by.

I got this one: Liir Thropp tries to tell Trism bon Cavalish that 'It isn't what it looks like, I swear!'

This one: Picnic, over-sensitive, keep.

Or this one: A long-lost family member turns up in the middle of the night. ...which will lead to nothing good in this universe, but could be fun

"This isn't what it looks like."

Liir has never been anything but an awkward creature: awkward in his words, in his understanding of the world, in the manner in which he fits in it, as a matter of fact. However, he has never quite managed to get to the level of awkwardness that involves wearing what appears to be a rather handsome dress with an understated, but considerable, lace trim.

It's hard to wake up. Steve's never been a place where he felt so warm and secure before. The price of poverty and war; comfort was never in the cards. He sits up slowly in bed more out of obligation than a desire to be a part of the waking world. He knows in the back of his head he has to do something. The job is never done. He would be better off going towards it than waiting for Phillips to bark at him...

He looks alarmed the moment he looks down and sees a bed beneath him. It hits him like a ton of bricks. He remembers hitting the water, losing all feelings in his limbs, and staring at Peggy's photo for support as everything went dark. He's not supposed to be here.

Steve yanks back the covers and heads for the door. Excuse him, Howard. He's got to stage a jailbreak with all the subtly of someone trained by Agent Carter herself.

Trism arched a buttergold eyebrow and tilted his head inquisitively.

"You're not standing there being gorgeous in a lacey gown?"

Which is why he literally almost runs over Howard, who'd been opening the door at roughly the same time that Bruce. There's a wordless shout as his hands land on Steve's chest, then pull away, then push forward because that was real and it was solid and it was warm and it was Steve.

And that's too good to be true.

Finally, when the words coalesce in his brain, he lets himself look Rogers in the face and breathes in to speak.

"Rogers," is all that comes out, though. Hopefully, it would serve for the moment...

It's classic Howard. He finds himself relieved that this didn't turn into an escape. It's an easy explanation as to why everything is so nice. Peggy called and he came running to the rescue. Now he'll never hear the end of it, but at least he'll get to have that date.

Steve doesn't even register there is anything amiss at first. He smiles the same put upon smile most friends of Howard Stark has at first. He looks from the hands on his chest to the man and immediately it clicks together. Howard's different; older. It's still unquestionably him.

"Howard?" His brow knits together. He wonders if maybe he's in for the joke of a lifetime. That has to be makeup, right?

He'd gotten the alert, and he would have been in time to figure out a way to fix it, but it just so happens he doesn't need to. Someone else got there first, a face he hasn't seen in years and yet still so familiar. Everything is familiar. It might even be the same set of tracks.

The idea makes Barry laugh as he skids to a neat stop on top of the tracks after the train has passed, crouching and grinning over the side. "You're not gonna pass out this time, right?" he calls down. "You're a lot heavier now."

A lot heavier, a lot stronger, a lot more well-known. He'd watched Clark grow into his powers, making some mistakes but making up for them, gaining confidence, the love of the people of his city. He's too proud to have minded when Clark got too busy to visit.

Dave has something that John desperately wants or needs. Dave won't give it up easily.

Maybe some magic thing they can work on a case together?

There's a bit of a blur, or there would be to literally anyone else but Barry Allen. Clark's learned a lot over the years, including a lot of science and engineering. When he uses his heat vision and his own hands to repair the track, this time, the work is done neatly and seamlessly. So when he zooms up between them to grab Barry in a hug, well,

He's earned it.

"Hey."

Because he's missed him, but it's been long enough he doesn't even know what to say. He's just happy to see him.

Of course it's raining. Of course it's raining and it's pouring and it's disgusting out. That's just when the universe decides he needs to be walking through the streets. That's just the natural order of things when John Constantine has work to do. After all, doesn't have much drama to it when someone slams a door in your face and tells you to shove off on a bright sunny day.

He has to think about the last time he saw one of those. And he's not sure it wasn't just some sort of commercial on that he happened to catch.

Regardless, he walks up and rings the buzzer to the door of- Christ Almighty, people with the kind of power this boy has don't talk to him if they have any sense. They know better. But he's hoping, young as he is, that he doesn't have any sense. And that Balthazar hasn't mentioned his name quite yet and poisoned the kid against the idea of even letting him through the door.

...some part of his mind realizes he shouldn't have been 'worried', precisely, so much as know that Trism would throw some manner of curveball at him. If he views the world at odd angles, then Trism reacts to it as such and thus is their relationship functional.

"All right, that would not be... inaccurate, strictly."

reads_with_pride: As I recall, it was your turn to write the list, so if it's not there, it's your fault. You should go check.

Also: Really, Dair? I'm right here.

code_or_dair: And I put it on the list but I didn't see it when I went to get some milk so I was asking if you knew.
code_or_dair: And look who's answering the same way.

Well in that case it was either not enough to last a week or it wasn't on sale.

And I'm not going to dignify that with a response.

[You can practically see the "so there" in Nita's face if you look up, Dairine.]

Barry's solution would probably have been getting everyone off the train before it derailed, and he doesn't need to be told this is way better. Superman to the rescue. He's more than happy to jump right into that bear-hug, squeezing as hard as he can because he can, and yeah, maybe he tousles the kid's hair a little. Not a kid anymore, but old habits, man.

"I didn't even know you were here. Don't worry about calling and telling me you're in town, it's only been a million years, it's fine."

It's raining, yes, and it's raining hard. Good thing Dave is the kind of guys that likes staying inside with a good book, huh? Especially now that his master is out and he only has to watch over the Arcana Cabana.

Him staying over (dog included) doesn't mean the shop is open though, so he's surprised to hear the buzzer. It can't be Becky, can it? She had stuff to do...

"Ah, hello?" He opens the door but just a little bit, still leaving the chain on. "We're-- kinda closed right now."

Trism smiled warmly and twirled his finger to ask Liir to turn around so he could have a look.

"Let's see it, then."

"Here for work," he says with a shrug and a tilt of his head as he grins at the hair tousling. He's not a kid anymore but Barry's still allowed to ruffle it up.

"The... other work. I just happened to notice this was buckling when I glanced out the window. Though I did email you. Have you checked your messages today?"

"Oh, the day job? What are you—you did, really?" Barry reaches for his phone, remembers it's back at STAR Labs because of course it is, and shakes his head a little. "I sort of have, uh, not done that today, no." It's been years, but it's still that same sheepish Barry Allen smile.

"Sorry. Um, how long are you around for?" He can't help but hope Clark's around for at least a little while. It's been a while. He's been watching Clark on the news a lot, but he hasn't wanted to crowd him.

"I'm here for the next few days," he explains honestly with a glance around the area. It's occurring to him that perhaps, they should go someplace a little more private so they don't garner too much attention. He points up to the top of a building, grins at Barry, and zooms up. He knows Barry will be there when he gets there, after all.

code_or_dair: You just did.

Makeup. Oh, he's wearing makeup, but it's to make him look younger, not older. Howard Stark doesn't do much but he's a bit vain, always has been, always will be, and there's nothing wrong with a little touch up here or there. He's never begrudged a lady her underthings, after all. At least not for long.

For the moment, though, he's not thinking about ladies or underthings. He's not thinking about much of anything because he's looking at Steve Rogers, young and golden and alive in his house, real, and heartstopping.

But his mind doesn't stop long, never has never will, which is why like an engine revving up, the wheels are turning within a few moments and a cocky smile is curling on his lips.

"The one and only. You didn't think you'd get rid of me by dying, now, did you? I already conquered gravity, after all. Death was just a matter of time. Though I'm lucky enough that with you, well, that serum gave me a bit of a headstart..."

[Dairine can actually hear Nita groan, leaning face-first into her book with a smack.]

FINE. I'll go look. Happy?

"You should—" But Clark's gone before Barry has a chance to finish the sentence, and he grins and speeds off himself, the red streak right up the side of the building and skidding to a stop on the roof. "—come over for dinner," he finishes without a break, still grinning. "I can cook now, kinda."

"Or we could do dinner over Uncle Joe's," he points out with a little smile, "who I know can cook."

It's half teasing and half giving Barry an out that still involves him coming for dinner. All in all, there's nothing mean in it.

His brow knits together as (seemingly) once again he's left picking apart what Howard is saying. He doesn't consider himself to be a stupid man, but no one's mind runs as fast as Howard's. Steve thinks he has the gist of it. Somehow the serum helped him survive the crash. He's been out of it long enough for even Howard Stark to show signs of aging which is a feat in itself.

"I don't feel any different." Steve confesses. He can't help sounding embarrassed because he must look different and yet he still thinks the same. It's like time stood still for him. That's a lot to wrap anyone's mind around after just waking up.

Steve pushes it out of mind to focus on what's actually important. "Is Peg around?"

"Okay, I guess Joe would be pretty mad if I didn't tell him you were around," Barry admits, because that's totally the reason Clark is suggesting they go over there. Not because Barry's cooking experiments in the past would not inspire confidence for the present. He is better than he was, but Joe is still the master.

THE RANDOMEST POST

CALLAHAN CALL - Dairine Callahan, that is.

Okay I'd love Howard Stark and here's what I got:

bb!Clark, older now and wiser

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Liir Thropp and Trism bon Cavalish

NO SURPRISE ELPHABAS. Let's try this.

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Re: NO SURPRISE ELPHABAS. Let's try this.

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How do you get that format? :o

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Thank you. /o

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