Even if the stars don't shine

Hypocrite

  He'd followed her in silence, closing the door behind them and watching her fold up the blanket and put it away. She smiled lightly at him then took his hand and led him to her room. Oh no, no, no. Sam would kill him, hell, Steve would too. He hesitated at the doorway, stopping her in her tracks.

  "Lana, I don't think this-"

  She chuckled. "We're just going to sleep, okay? Nothing else, trust me, I don't want Sam kicking down my door and strangling you, no one wants that," she tugged his arm in.

  "I don't want to hurt you..." he finally admitted as she flipped on the light beside her bed.

  "You won't," she shrugged and sat down on the edge.

  "You can't know that-"

  She smiled and patted the blanket beside her. He sighed and sat down. She slowly, as not to startle him, placed her hand over his heart, left of his chest and dangerously close to where the metal began. "You wouldn't hurt me, there may be metal and pain," her finger swayed over and she could feel the hardness beneath his shirt then wiggled her furthest finger from it, "but there's also blood and kindness. I trust you."

  "You shouldn't," he took her hand down and held it between them.

  She smiled simply. "And yet I do, wholeheartedly..." she stared between his eyes, they were always soft on her. "Just lie down, you don't have to fall asleep immediately, take your time..."

  Her smile was easy. This was a much more soothing version of mind control. He sighed as she stood up and went to the other side of the double bed. 

  She laid down already. "Come on, you've even got my side," she joked.

  He hesitated then laid down as well, feeling overly uncomfortable and regretful already.

  "Look up, at the ceiling," she told him and did the same. She'd stuck glow-in-the-dark stars sparsely when she'd started renting the place. "I've always been afraid of the dark..." she admitted and glanced at him from the corner of her eye, he was staring at her, "look up! It's relaxing I swear..."

  He smiled softly and did. They hardly provided any light but he could see how watching them could make someone feel better. There was this air of childhood innocence he could understand. The way he'd made paper cut-outs to stick around an old lamp to entertain his younger siblings long ago, it was familiar.  

  She grinned looking up. It reminded her of her sister, of her younger days with Snap Wilson and the neighbourhood kids, getting into trouble and being grounded, sneaking out regardless. The darker side made her stop smiling. "I think you're homesick..." she observed.

  "I don't have- I don't have a home to miss?" he glanced at her.

  She looked back at him. "Exactly... I think that's what you're missing," she sighed, "you need a home."

  He gazed up at the stars again. "I think you're right," he said in an easy voice.

  "I'm always right," she slid her hand down and held his metal one.

  He couldn't feel it very much, he wasn't supposed to anyway, but sometimes small things like the change of temperature made him aware. He almost recoiled, then he recognised that that would hurt her feelings. He didn't want that. "Lana..."

  She looked at him, somehow so much closer to him without identifying when either of them had made the shuffling move.

  "That's not a side of myself I want you to know..." he told her calmly.

  "Show me all of you... even the bad parts, you're not broken, James, only stretched and bent I guess. You only move on when you accept what happened, all of it."

  "I don't want to."

  "I know... I didn't want to either," she sighed lowly, "but I have to try or else I'd have been stuck as this-" she sucked in air through her teeth and turned to look his face up and down. "We have to move on... what else is there to do?" She didn't want to tell him what she'd done, not yet. Hypocrite, she told herself again and again.

  "Where did you get all this from?" he whispered, fascinated by the way she could switch seamlessly between energetic and serious. Her face had almost changed, still sweet but carrying more... conviction and power.

  She rested her forehead on his shoulder, it was hard and cold, it felt new and refreshing in some twisted way. "Experience, I figure... watching too many movies probably is all," she chuckled.

  There she'd just changed back. It was strange. "How old are you, Lana?"

  "Twenty-eight, why?" she looked up at him, resting her chin only now.

  "You're already wiser than a hundred-year-old..." he sighed out.

  She chuckled again and squeezed his hand. "Can you feel that?" she said after a long pause.

  He held up his hand, bringing hers with it. It still disgusted him but seeing her flesh there, somehow it seemed softer. He locked his fingers within hers and squeezed softly. "Only a trace... like this," he brought their hands to her face and brushed his against her cheek lightly, hardly touching her, it felt an inadequate explanation.

  "Do you feel better- or is this still weird?" she watched their hands, heart beating harder than she expected it to and was glad his metal bicep couldn't feel it smashing against her chest, perhaps trying to escape even.

  He looked down at her and brought down their hands, now leaning on his side to see her full on, he examined her face carefully. As if he'd never wake up from this. "Much better," he confirmed and saw her smile easily again.

  "Close your eyes, just breathe deep and slow," she instructed and waited for him to do it. "I'm here... you're safe and nothing will happen, I promise, it'll get better..." she closed her own eyes and breathed out the concern she was harbouring way back in her mind.

  This would be a long night.