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I’m not a year late with this or anything like that. >.>
“Werewolves,” Iron Man said, disgusted. “Werewolves.”
Jan patted in on one arm. “Yes, Iron Man, we noticed that it was a werewolf.”
“Plural,” Tony stressed. “Plural werewolf-s, werewolves. Is it just me, or does the world get weirder, and weirder every day? I’m starting to suspect that we’re all in a computer program, and someone is testing our capacity for weird.”
“To be fair, our previous battles have been against a time traveler, a man who is just really good at making glue, a circus act, and a guy who controls people’s minds. Just to name a few. Are werewolves really that out there?” Hank asked. “Besides, if this really were a computer program, none of us would be able to tell if we were real, or just a bunch of code. I’m not ready to go down that particular rabbit hole just yet.”
Steve listened as the conversation devolved into a discussion on virtual reality, and theoretical computer applications that were mostly over his head. He got along with the technology of the new century just fine, and had no trouble with navigating around his various devices, but he hadn’t had the interest to learn anything about what made them run. As far as he was concerned, Tony Stark, Iron Man, and Hank were living, breathing works of science fiction. It was amazing to him that they were even real people. If he didn’t know them personally, he would doubt that even a fraction of their accomplishments were real.
“Hey, Cap, you okay?”
Steve looked up to see Iron Man turned toward him, head tilted slightly downward. The face mask was expressionless, but Steve had gotten a good grasp of Iron Man’s body language over the years. He was mildly concerned, and maybe curious. Steve unconsciously moved a hand to cover the deep gash on his thigh. One of the wolves had gotten a claw under his shield, and he’d bled enough to soak his pant leg down to his boot. The wound had already clotted, and it was on fire. The heat was unusual – he was more accustomed to it itching as it healed – but it had been a deeper cut than he normally dealt with on a mission.
“All good, Shellhead,” Steve said, summoning up a smile.
“Hope we’re not going to catch you howling at the moon next month.”
Steve snorted. “I haven’t even had a cold since the 40’s. I think I’ll be fine.”
Jan shoved at Iron Man’s shoulder. “Like a scratch is really going to turn someone into a werewolf,” she scoffed. “They were turned by magic.”
Without the benefit of being able to see his eyes, Steve couldn’t be completely sure, but he imagined Iron Man rolling his eyes. Both of his hands had turned over, palm up and fingers spread, in a gesture that Steve had come to associate with eye-rolling. This gesture was subtly different than both hands open, fingers spread but slightly curled, that Steve considered ‘raised eyebrows,’ which was different again than the similar gesture that indicated puzzlement.
Steve turned away before he got caught staring at Iron Man’s gauntlets. Iron Man and Jan loudly argued the merits of the improbable (but more scientifically likely) theory of lycanthropy transferred by a virus versus magic. Across from him, Hank dropped an elbow to table and set his chin in his palm. Far from looking annoyed at the escalating argument, he was obviously besotted with his wife. Hank caught him looking and had the audacity to give him a wink, which made Steve flush for reasons he didn’t want to think on too hard.
“My friends, excuse my tardiness,” Thor said as he entered the room, his cape still hanging in tatters from his shoulders, and Mjolnir held loosely in his hand. He took his seat, setting his hammer in his lap, and scooted the chair up to the table. “This meeting can now come to order.”
They settled down, Iron Man and Jan’s argument drifting off into a muttered, “I’m not finished with you, Iron Man.” Steve stood to discuss the unexpected battle, and what they could have done differently, and did his best to keep his hand from pressing against the hot pulse of the cut on his leg.
(Your picture was not posted)
I’m not a year late with this or anything like that. >.>
“Werewolves,” Iron Man said, disgusted. “Werewolves.”
Jan patted in on one arm. “Yes, Iron Man, we noticed that it was a werewolf.”
“Plural,” Tony stressed. “Plural werewolf-s, werewolves. Is it just me, or does the world get weirder, and weirder every day? I’m starting to suspect that we’re all in a computer program, and someone is testing our capacity for weird.”
“To be fair, our previous battles have been against a time traveler, a man who is just really good at making glue, a circus act, and a guy who controls people’s minds. Just to name a few. Are werewolves really that out there?” Hank asked. “Besides, if this really were a computer program, none of us would be able to tell if we were real, or just a bunch of code. I’m not ready to go down that particular rabbit hole just yet.”
Steve listened as the conversation devolved into a discussion on virtual reality, and theoretical computer applications that were mostly over his head. He got along with the technology of the new century just fine, and had no trouble with navigating around his various devices, but he hadn’t had the interest to learn anything about what made them run. As far as he was concerned, Tony Stark, Iron Man, and Hank were living, breathing works of science fiction. It was amazing to him that they were even real people. If he didn’t know them personally, he would doubt that even a fraction of their accomplishments were real.
“Hey, Cap, you okay?”
Steve looked up to see Iron Man turned toward him, head tilted slightly downward. The face mask was expressionless, but Steve had gotten a good grasp of Iron Man’s body language over the years. He was mildly concerned, and maybe curious. Steve unconsciously moved a hand to cover the deep gash on his thigh. One of the wolves had gotten a claw under his shield, and he’d bled enough to soak his pant leg down to his boot. The wound had already clotted, and it was on fire. The heat was unusual – he was more accustomed to it itching as it healed – but it had been a deeper cut than he normally dealt with on a mission.
“All good, Shellhead,” Steve said, summoning up a smile.
“Hope we’re not going to catch you howling at the moon next month.”
Steve snorted. “I haven’t even had a cold since the 40’s. I think I’ll be fine.”
Jan shoved at Iron Man’s shoulder. “Like a scratch is really going to turn someone into a werewolf,” she scoffed. “They were turned by magic.”
Without the benefit of being able to see his eyes, Steve couldn’t be completely sure, but he imagined Iron Man rolling his eyes. Both of his hands had turned over, palm up and fingers spread, in a gesture that Steve had come to associate with eye-rolling. This gesture was subtly different than both hands open, fingers spread but slightly curled, that Steve considered ‘raised eyebrows,’ which was different again than the similar gesture that indicated puzzlement.
Steve turned away before he got caught staring at Iron Man’s gauntlets. Iron Man and Jan loudly argued the merits of the improbable (but more scientifically likely) theory of lycanthropy transferred by a virus versus magic. Across from him, Hank dropped an elbow to table and set his chin in his palm. Far from looking annoyed at the escalating argument, he was obviously besotted with his wife. Hank caught him looking and had the audacity to give him a wink, which made Steve flush for reasons he didn’t want to think on too hard.
“My friends, excuse my tardiness,” Thor said as he entered the room, his cape still hanging in tatters from his shoulders, and Mjolnir held loosely in his hand. He took his seat, setting his hammer in his lap, and scooted the chair up to the table. “This meeting can now come to order.”
They settled down, Iron Man and Jan’s argument drifting off into a muttered, “I’m not finished with you, Iron Man.” Steve stood to discuss the unexpected battle, and what they could have done differently, and did his best to keep his hand from pressing against the hot pulse of the cut on his leg.
(Your picture was not posted)
