The Seventh Stone (Stony Marvel Story)

(Chapter 15)

"No stories tonight, Maguna."

Morgan pouted, giving me her sad puppy eyes.

"No means no honey."

She squinted her eyes and shook her head.

"Nuh- uh. I'm tired and I don't feel like it."

"Bad excuse. I wouldn't let you leave now."

"My house, my rules."

"Pleaseeeeee?" She begged. I sighed and said, "Once upon a time, daddy fell in love again. The end."

"Who was his love?"

"I- reader's choice."

"So anyone?"

"Anyone."

"So... like Steve?"

"I- excuse me?"

I stared at her. Morgan giggled, poking my cheek.

"Like Steve! Every time you look at him it looks like you want to melt into a gigantic mess of hearts."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do," She giggled, wiggling her eyebrows at me. If it wasn't for the darkness of the night my face would be a palette of red.

"What do you know about love," I moved my eyebrows in return. "Well," Morgan sat up straight, fixing her covers, "when you look around a room just to look for him, when you smile and your face gets all sunny cause you found him, when you turn all red cause I even just SAY his name..."

She grinned and poked my burning face again.

"That's what I know about love."

"Well, kid, you aren't that far off." I kissed her on the forehead and tucked her blankets in.

"You aren't far off at all."

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You ran free.

He sat quietly. One leg crossed over the other, a stolen tear crawled down his face.

The coffin stood on the alter.

He flinched and wished to turn away. He slammed himself onto the ground and prayed, whispered, begged for a do-over. He blamed the loss of a dead body on his cold hands.

Why wasn't it me?

And apologizes could not make it up this time. He curled up into a ball next to the soulless body, a red balloon tighten in his hand. When he meant to let it go, he instantly reached back.

He did not want to be alone again.

The fear of silence was the one that diminished him. As the wind crept along the walls and whistled through his ears, it was the incontentness that closed his chest up. Every moment he would glance at the coffin felt as if another knife were penetrating among the only things he had left.

Do you wish you could?

Another tear had fallen. The sorrow, oh the sorrow, it incased him whole. If there was just something, one thing he could do to eradicate the darkness that had snuck in and seized its spot, he would. He would do anything to fight the every-living desolation.

Anything.

Too late for referments. All you have left is your shoulds.

Do you wish you did?

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"Not much progress on the new suit, huh?"

Steve's voice behind half scared me into another dimension. I jumped up and almost knocked all of my coffee over.

"You just love doing the whole sneak up thing, don't you?"

"Well, you know me," He propped himself up against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. "I come in many forms of surprises."

"I have no idea what that's supposed to mean."

"You will one day." He got up and walked toward my screens, leaning in toward the work. His hand rested on the chair, mightily close to my back, and I sat up with full hesitation.

Disgusting fervors.

"What's all this fancy shit you're working on?"

"WHOA, Cap! Language!"

Steve stared at me for the entirety of two seconds before bursting out into laughter. "That might've been the worst thing you've said all day," He replied, wiping away a tear.

"You missed before. I accidently programmed 'blaster' on the machine to 'bastard' and the stupid machine wouldn't stop saying, or should I say yelling, very loudly, 'WhErE WoUlD YoU lIkE thE BasTarDs Mr. StArk?' Corporate walked by right then and there and I shit myself so hard- I really thought I was going to be fired."

Steve actually fell over, completely on the ground, wheezing from laughing so hard.

I hadn't smiled that widely in a long time.

A soft knock from the doorway interrupted our laughing fit. "Guys?" Nat furred her eyebrows in confusion. "... what can possibly be so funny?" Steve turned to grin at me and began to explain, but she simply put a hand up. "You know what, I don't think I want to know."

Steve snickered and I kicked him under my desk. "What up, Nata Rama?" I asked, sitting back and doing peace signs.

"Never call me that again."

"Aww, someone's in a bad mood today."

"It's respectful for me to be in a bad mood when I have to trust you two idiots to go all the way to Russia to get the machine part."

"Wait," Steve stopped smiling, a look of confusion written on his face, "I thought Carol was going to go..?"

"She got stuck at a mission," Nat sighed, "and wouldn't be back in time. Everyone voted that you guys would be the next best. Plus, Steve has a military badge that can help."

"That badge is literally 100 years old." Now it was Steve's turn to kick me under the desk.

"Oww! Am I WRONG?" He chuckled softly and Nat exhaled slowly, trying to calm herself.

"You guys have to be careful when you go. You never know who's on that side of the planet right now."

"Why doesn't Steve just go? Why do you need to me to go as well?"

"Do you really think Steve is going to know the piece that you need?"

"I can tell it to him. Like this. Steve, pick up a small metal level balancer, 300 in max, durable for all energy sources."

He stared at me hesitantly.

I groaned. "He's definitely going to forget."

"Yup," Nat replied, patting me on the back before leaving the room. We both watched her head out.

"Well, might as well plan out how we get this piece of crap." I moved the images of my suits off of the screens to clear space for a map of Russia.  Steve turned to me with a bit lip. "Are you sure we raised enough money for this thing, Tones? I can't imagine it being cheap."

"We raised more than enough. My episode was also able to pitch in a few more dollars." He smiled gently.

"I'm sorry that you have to come with me."

"Eh, it could be worse. I could be going with Scott."

That was all it took for him to get into another laughing fit. Nat yelled for us to shut up before I beats your asses  the whole night long.

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I had believed chemistry was the hard science. I had configured the idealistic notions for bombastery.