Short Stories and Oneshots

Just as I Was

Author: WordAddict618

Platform: Fanfiction.net

Type: Marvel

When Steve ditches Tony's Christmas party, he runs into the last person he expected.

~

Steve stepped out onto the balcony, taking a breath of the cold air. It was his first time at a Christmas party thrown by Tony Stark, and he wasn't sure what he'd been expecting but it wasn't this. Every super-powered human that Tony had been able to find had been invited, and Steve had lost track of names after the first hour, leaving the party entirely after three.

He breathed in the cold December air, clutching the balcony ledge as he looked out over the city. Out here, it was quiet and calm. New York was covered in a soft blanket of snow, the streetlights casting halos of yellow light. It looked perfect – like a painting where each flake and drift of snow had been precisely placed.

From Steve's right, a rough voice laughed. "Don't see something like this every day, do ya?"

"I live in Brooklyn," Steve said lightly, turning to face the person. He couldn't see the man's face because of the shadows, but something in the cadence of his voice put Steve at ease. "I've seen snow."

"That's nothing," the other man chuckled. "Down here, this'll all melt tomorrow."

Steve let the conversation drop, not knowing what to say. He wished he knew the name of the person he was talking to, but it was sort of nice that he didn't. A quiet moment in the dark with an anonymous person, connecting over simple things; it reminded Steve of the war in a way.

"So, where are you from?" he asked after a minute, not wanting to let the moment die.

"I live in Alberta, bub."

Steve's response died immediately. He'd only ever known one person who spoke like that, with that specific accent. "So, what are you doing out here?" he asked after a moment, attempting a casual tone. It's a coincidence, he warned himself. He cannot be alive.

"Probably the same as you," the man said. His voice had lost a little of its friendliness, like he had picked up on Steve's nervousness. "Got tired of the party, needed a cigar."

Steve made a non-committal noise and turned his back to the street, trying to decide what to say. He didn't know if he even wanted to know who was out on the balcony with him. He hoped he was right, and the familiar voice was exactly who he thought it was, but he knew rationally that it was impossible.

"What's got you so riled up?"

Steve didn't know what to say. He remembered the files, flipping through face after face marked with a red Deceased. "Nothing," he lied.

There was the hiss of a lighter and a flame illuminated the balcony. "Memories can be a bitch, eh?" James Howlett took a drag on the end of his cigar and exhaled a stream of smoke, tucking the lighter back into his shirt pocket. "Howdy, Steve."

FIN