Away We Go. (Avengers Fan Fiction)

Chapter 12

*Sorry for the briefness and any spelling errors you may find in this chapter. It is seriously rushed because my internet is about to go out of the metaphorical window. Read and vote pretty please and don't be afraid to message. Enjoy! (P.S. The lovely banner is thanks to AtalaEmbers)*

 

Calypso’s P.O.V.

“Tell me something about yourself, anything you want,” Steve said, hurriedly tacking on the last bit. I chuckled at his gentlemanly behavior, taking another bite of the heavenly cake that sat before me. Double fudge with dark chocolate icing. I’d say it was my favorite type of cake but I’d never had anything like it before, so I had to settle for saying it was the best thing I’d ever eaten. 

“I like the color blue,” I said, going on to explain that I favored light blue over navy or aqua. Steve nodded in acknowledgement, finishing up his own plate of food. 

“I like that color too,” he said, gesturing towards his suit, only to realize he wasn’t wearing it. 

An embarrassed cough, “What about friends? Family?” he asked.

A somberness fell upon us as he immediately recognized his mistake. He parted his lips to apologize but I held up my hand, swallowing the lump that had abruptly formed in my throat. 

“It’s fine. I need this, just let me think for a minute,” I whispered, sending him a reassuring smile. I racked my brain, trying to conjure up a memory that wouldn’t reopen my poorly healed wounds. I thought of my mother, my father, my little brother and Roland.

Roland. I remembered everything about him– the way his hair stuck out on end during humid days, the hazel tint his eyes took when he glanced up at the sun, the roughness of his palms as he grasped my hand whilst we took a stroll through the trees, the smudges of dirt that always seemed to grace his face just under his left cheek bone, the tanned hue of his skin and the muscles that rippled beneath his homemade clothes... 

Out of everyone, Roland was the one I remembered the most, missed the most. He had been my everything.

“When I went on long trips by myself, my boyfr- best friend would always worry that something would happen to me. He worried himself sick waiting at the edge of our town until I’d gotten home. Sometimes he’d wait until 3 in the morning and I’d finally had enough of his silly behavior,” I said, drawing back into my own little world.

“So I made a pact with him: If he didn’t receive a purple petunia on his front step the day I’d said I’d return, then something was wrong. If he did, that meant he didn’t need to worry and that I’d be back to see him soon,” I finished, proud of myself for not allowing my voice to crack.

“He sounds like he was a nice guy,” Steve prompted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“He was. He– he was,” I said, failing to find any words suitable for how genuinely good Roland had been. 

After a few minutes of quiet, interrupted only by the brief bickering of Tony and Natasha from a few tables over, I decided to ask him a few questions of my own. 

“Can you tell me something about yourself? Anything you want,” I said, smiling when he picked up on my slightly mocking tone. 

“I was trapped in ice for 70 years,” he said, laughing at my shocked expression.

“How is that even possible?!” I exclaimed, trying to imagine the scenario in my head. I didn’t see anyway he could have survived for that long without sustenance or breathing for that matter.

“They said it was something in my blood, the chemicals that made me what I am today,” he replied, shrugging. 

“Are you glad the chemicals saved you?” I asked, noticing the small frown that drug his lips downwards. 

“Yes, it’s just that I lost someone very important to me, and adjusting to this new time period hasn’t exactly been easy,” he said, tilting his head towards the high tech devices that littered the room. 

“Tell me about it,” I muttered, making us both smile as we realized this was something we had in common.

“Are you glad that we saved you?” he asked, and slowly, our joking mood vanished. 

“Still up for debate,” I said, gnawing on my lower lip. 

He gave me an unfathomable look, opened his mouth to speak, only to shut it again.

“Why the long face, Cap?” Tony yelled from across the room, looking back and forth between Steve and I. 

“Because I got a glimpse of yours, Stark. Made me a little nauseous,” he shot back, clearly taking the Iron Man off guard. Too bad he specialized in improvisation. 

“You sure? I’m certain that it was just your jealousy of this gorgeousness boiling to the surface,” he shot back, easily getting under Mr. America’s skin. 

“No, the ugliness was simply too much for me too bare. I think the cakes might make a reappearance,” Steve joked, making fake gagging noises. 

Seeming to have no response, Tony chucked a cake at Steve, hitting his forehead dead center. 

A beat of shock, before cakes were being launched left and right, everyone steering clear of the assassins who had horrifyingly accurate aim. I ducked under the table, using little bubbles of air to propel the cakes away from me, occasionally snatching one from above and taking a small bite. 

“Mind if I scoot under here?” Tony asked, just as he slid in beside me. I smirked at his disheveled figure, chocolate bits sticking to his hair, clothes and face. Without warning I smeared a cake onto his face, adding to the mess. He blinked a few times, but before he could respond to my actions I was gone, giggling as I dodged the food projectiles, heading for the other side of the room. 

“Oh, it is SO on!” Tony roared from behind me, and I could briefly hear him stomp his foot. If he wasn’t a child at heart I don’t know who would be.