[paris, it turns out, isn't quite as hideous as london. it's not as if rain has never come to themyscira, not as if the occasional storm hasn't either, but it'd never occurred to her that any one place could be so constantly dreary; judging by the week she's now spent here, in paris, at least, the sun shines on more days than not. there's a certain beauty to much of the architecture, its style unfamiliar but eyecatching. she finds herself charmed by the vendors that line the streets they walk together, by the way one can seem to find music and laughter and life around almost every corner.
and the food? the food is amazing — even more so than ice cream.
(if this is what life is like when no one is fighting, diana thinks, it is nice.)
there's a certain cafe, in particular, that has fast become her favorite, one that sells this wonderful creation steve had told her is called a crêpe, which can be served in almost any way one can imagine. they have come here four mornings in a row at her request (she will not rest until she tries every possible option), but he doesn't seem to mind; in fact, she often catches him watching her with a spark of amusement in his eyes that she finds captivating, with a smile that makes her feel as warm as the sun.
now, though — now, as she sips on her cup of another wonderful concoction she has learned is called café au lait, his hand idly finds hers under the table. she turns her head from the window, glances down, and:]
I thought this is what people do only when they are 'together,' [she tells him, a small smile on her mouth and just the slightest hint of teasing in her tone.]
[He meets her gaze with a smirk, a raised eyebrow and he doesn't remove his hand.
He thought her naive when they first started on this adventure. The world wasn't as simple as killing one man to end the war. Because it wasn't always the war that made men do terrible things. It wasn't being German that made a man turn a blind eye to the horrible things around him. There was not honor and generals fighting on the battlefields with their men. There was sneaking around, living a lie, spending more than one cold night clutching a gun and catching little sleep, there was following orders even when those orders meant someone else would die.
Men are messy. Men are ugly. Men have terrible hearts sometimes. He's seen it. He's lived it. He is it.
But he fought for them anyway because that's what he believed in. Because maybe he couldn't fix everything but he could fix this one thing and somewhere, someone's life would be better for it. He'd just wanted to shake her until she realized that, until he got some common sense in her head but once it's there, once everything is said and done and the armistice is signed, he realizes-- she taught him a lesson he needed to learn as well.
Steve runs his thumb along the back of her hand. He could spend the next twenty years going to every cafe in Europe if she wanted.]
We've been getting breakfast together every day this week. Are you trying to tell me that doesn't mean anything to you?
[there is so much she's still learning, has yet to learn, about man's world. the nuances of the social hierarchy, the reasons why women are not allowed in certain places and frequently force themselves into restrictive torture devices of fabric for what etta describes as "fashion," will probably elude her for a long time. so, too, will the reasons why men can turn cruel, why so many can willingly look away from the suffering of innocents and allow lives to be lost for political gain and personal profit, all more complicated than she could've ever believed.
but she knows this for certain — there is also goodness in the hearts of men, that inspires them to sacrifice and love and believe. the proof of that is everywhere. it's sitting right in front of her.
as she studies him, lets his thumb brush her hand, her smile broadens.]
It is breakfast. [a pause, a slight shrug of her shoulder before she takes another sip of her coffee and flicks her gaze toward the window and back again, all exaggerated for effect.] We could be associates. Together but not 'together,' that's how you would say it, right?
[she's not sure when the semantics of that will stop feeling utterly ridiculous to her.]
[Sometimes he thinks she goes out of her way to be oblivious. And other times he thinks it just comes naturally because she really doesn't understand. Her island is very different from the rest of the world. For a moment, he can't tell if she really doesn't get his meaning or if she's just teasing him.
It's been an amazing week. It's been the kind of week people write stories about. A boy falls in love with a girl, they save the world, they go for crepes after. They spend every day exploring the city of Paris together and every night exploring each other and he doesn't need anything more than this. Him, her, the world at their feet. He doesn't want to own her or force her into a role that she could never really fit into.
He just-- it'd be nice to know if she were as captivated by him as he is by her.]
I was thinking something a little more official. More... committed than associates.
["committed," he says, and her demeanor shifts. she gently sets her cup down on the table and allows her teasing smile to fade into something more serious. her eyes are on him completely now, looking to meet his.
she ponders for a moment in silence after that, casting a series of words around in her mind, testing the weight of them until she lands on the one that feels right.]
Partners? [it's a term they'd also had on themyscira — not like men's strange concept of "marriage," but used to refer to a type of commitment all the same. above all, the bond between partners is built on trust. they fight side by side without hesitation, watch each other's backs in battle. they stand together through life's trials, stronger than any single individual is alone.
she and steve have already fought through darkness together. he has already had her back, and she his. she would not trade the days and nights they have spent in each other's company for anything in the world, and wants to experience as many of them as she can. partner seems like a perfectly logical thing to call him.]
[She has this way of looking at him where he swears she can see into his soul and see every little goddamn thing about him and it's terrifying and arousing at the same time (he understands you so well, Sammy, my friend) and for the life of him-- he can't figure out if she likes what she sees.
He thinks she must or else she would have abandoned him by now. She doesn't strike him as the kind of woman who would stick by a guy just because she's saved his life a couple of times now.]
Does partners mean the same thing on Themyscira as it does here?
[ there are so few moments in his life that steve could ever dare to call good. even less are the times he thought he could ever have something perfect. but this is perfect. he doesn't deserve this kind of moment. not when he is in the middle of such suffering. but he is not fool enough to not appreciate every second the diana graces him with.
because that is what it feels like. she is giving him the gift of her company. of her innocence. her simple belief that the world is, and can be, a good place. even if sometimes he just wants to shake her to make her understand that the world isn't and will never be that place, he can't deny how refreshing it is too. especially when he has been surround by nothing by some the darkest deeds man has done.
it's going to break his heart when she realizes how things really are. a part of him would give anything to protect her from the knowledge. her belief is just too important for this world to ever lose.
but that's not to think about right now. not when her breathing is soft, steady beside making him feel a peace he hasn't in such a long time. she is warm against him, and steve can't take his eyes off of her. like this all might really be a dream.
his fingers are combing carefully through her hair when he feels her stir, more than just shifting in her sleep. it's still dark out. there are still hours before either of them have to face the war, and the job that is left for them. ]
It's not time to get up quite yet. You should rest more.
[ steve isn't ready for this to be over with yet. ]
[perhaps most striking about man's world is that it is cold. for most of her life, she has always been able to trust that the sun would be at her back, a loyal friend to accompany her on all the ventures of the day. warm, too, are the relationships among sisters, smiles and affection given readily and openly. but since she's left the island, she's barely seen the sun emerge from behind the clouds, and has had to acclimate to a constant bite in the air and the presence of goosebumps up and down her arms. she's encountered hostility and suspicion at more turns than she's ever dealt with before.
cold. that's the best word she can find to describe it.
now, though, when she begins to stir — cold is not what comes to mind. the warmth that emanates from steve beside her is enough to fill her from head to toe, to make everything outside of this room feel like a distant memory. she keeps her eyes closed for a minute, two minutes longer, simply to relax into the feeling of his fingers in her hair. a smile spreads across her face, unbidden.
the word that's just on the tip of her tongue is content. at sunrise, she knows, it'll vanish when the war returns, when they take up their arms and do what they came here to do, but for this moment, she can be at ease in it.
she shifts to face him, reaches out a hand to brush his face. when she speaks, her voice is soft, barely above a whisper.]
[it must've taken bruce considerable time and resources to track down the photograph, and that fact doesn't escape her. she has built up an extensive network as diana prince, renowned antiques dealer, one that reaches all over the world, but even that has always come up empty. for almost a hundred years, she has had only a watch to remember steve trevor by; even if it's long since stopped ticking (which she hasn't attempted to investigate how to fix), it serves as a constant reminder of what they hadn't had — time. seeing his face again brings tears to her eyes and a surge in her heart. the opportunity means so much more than she can possibly say.
"men are still good." what bruce had said to her as metropolis, as the world had mourned superman comes back to her now. it's a beautiful sentiment, even if she has learned that it is a little too simplistic to fully encompass the truth. men are much more complicated than she'd thought all those years ago, with no easy explanation for the cruelty and horrific things that exist everywhere, but there will always be goodness in their hearts, too; it can be seen in random acts of kindness, in sacrifices made unflinchingly.
and that is what is worth protecting.
she places the watch with the photograph, locks them away both in a safe and deep in her heart, and walks toward the future. there's a new war to fight now, one that is not in her personal mandate to look away from. plans are made, she takes a flight back to the united states. they start looking for the others.
it's late into the second night of their work in bruce's base of operations, and diana finds her eyes starting to grow tired; so far, it's been a lot of poring through files and staring at screens without much to show for it. she blinks and turns away from her own task, finding bruce in the half-light. the silence that's persisted between them for hours is finally broken as she ventures:]
I will tell you my story if you will tell me yours. It seems like a fair exchange.
[Bruce is the sort of man to allow silences to stretch to hours on end. He could talk the talk, walk the walk, everything that would be expected of him as Bruce Wayne, businessman.
In reality? A comfortable silence is what he prefers, at times. To be left alone and untouched by sideways social pressures is what he yearns for some days. He takes comfortable silences as something to accept and even appreciate.
The silence is finally broken, with a statement Bruce hadn't expected to come from Diana. The photograph really had been hers, and, like him, she has an identity to maintain as well. It's not as if she could explain away looking identical to a woman in a photograph from World War I to the general populace.
A secret to keep, a reminder to maintain. In that way, they were alike.
He glances to her, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.]
I'm not sure what there is to tell. It's been in every newspaper, every magazine, every... everything. The start of it, at least.
[As Bruce Wayne, he took the death of his parents hard. As Bruce Wayne, he did everything in his power to repair the growing cracks in the city. As Batman?
Ask any Gothamite what they think of the Bat. They know he exists, but why is a mystery to them all, outside of the superficial crime-fighting scenarios.]
What do you want to know?
[It's unusual of him to answer so freely. He may, perhaps, not even answer everything. Some things a man has to keep to himself.
But they're teammates now. They're looking for others like themselves. Something had to eventually give if they're to fight this war to its end.]
The climate is warmer than he's accustomed to, although certainly not unpleasant, and the food and cultural more kind of a joy to lose himself in. He likes the mornings best, with sunrise just another event in the lives of busy natives. He likes the narrow streets of island villages, too, where cars aren't allowed. He likes the fishermen who head out before dawn, the shopkeepers setting up for an influx of business later in the day.
Somewhere, he picked up enough Greek for conversation purposes, which makes haggling for breakfast in the markets more enjoyable. Most of all, Bucky likes the part where he's unnoticeable. Just another American expat traveling through Europe. He's still paranoid, still doesn't sleep more than a few hours, still ready to run at a second's notice. The Mediterranean mindset feels comfortable right now, though. And he's loath to upend that.
He's not too loath to address the lady standing next stall over, though. Blue eyes flick down at the fruits and vegetables for sale. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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and the food? the food is amazing — even more so than ice cream.
(if this is what life is like when no one is fighting, diana thinks, it is nice.)
there's a certain cafe, in particular, that has fast become her favorite, one that sells this wonderful creation steve had told her is called a crêpe, which can be served in almost any way one can imagine. they have come here four mornings in a row at her request (she will not rest until she tries every possible option), but he doesn't seem to mind; in fact, she often catches him watching her with a spark of amusement in his eyes that she finds captivating, with a smile that makes her feel as warm as the sun.
now, though — now, as she sips on her cup of another wonderful concoction she has learned is called café au lait, his hand idly finds hers under the table. she turns her head from the window, glances down, and:]
I thought this is what people do only when they are 'together,' [she tells him, a small smile on her mouth and just the slightest hint of teasing in her tone.]
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He thought her naive when they first started on this adventure. The world wasn't as simple as killing one man to end the war. Because it wasn't always the war that made men do terrible things. It wasn't being German that made a man turn a blind eye to the horrible things around him. There was not honor and generals fighting on the battlefields with their men. There was sneaking around, living a lie, spending more than one cold night clutching a gun and catching little sleep, there was following orders even when those orders meant someone else would die.
Men are messy. Men are ugly. Men have terrible hearts sometimes. He's seen it. He's lived it. He is it.
But he fought for them anyway because that's what he believed in. Because maybe he couldn't fix everything but he could fix this one thing and somewhere, someone's life would be better for it. He'd just wanted to shake her until she realized that, until he got some common sense in her head but once it's there, once everything is said and done and the armistice is signed, he realizes-- she taught him a lesson he needed to learn as well.
Steve runs his thumb along the back of her hand. He could spend the next twenty years going to every cafe in Europe if she wanted.]
We've been getting breakfast together every day this week. Are you trying to tell me that doesn't mean anything to you?
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but she knows this for certain — there is also goodness in the hearts of men, that inspires them to sacrifice and love and believe. the proof of that is everywhere. it's sitting right in front of her.
as she studies him, lets his thumb brush her hand, her smile broadens.]
It is breakfast. [a pause, a slight shrug of her shoulder before she takes another sip of her coffee and flicks her gaze toward the window and back again, all exaggerated for effect.] We could be associates. Together but not 'together,' that's how you would say it, right?
[she's not sure when the semantics of that will stop feeling utterly ridiculous to her.]
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It's been an amazing week. It's been the kind of week people write stories about. A boy falls in love with a girl, they save the world, they go for crepes after. They spend every day exploring the city of Paris together and every night exploring each other and he doesn't need anything more than this. Him, her, the world at their feet. He doesn't want to own her or force her into a role that she could never really fit into.
He just-- it'd be nice to know if she were as captivated by him as he is by her.]
I was thinking something a little more official. More... committed than associates.
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she ponders for a moment in silence after that, casting a series of words around in her mind, testing the weight of them until she lands on the one that feels right.]
Partners? [it's a term they'd also had on themyscira — not like men's strange concept of "marriage," but used to refer to a type of commitment all the same. above all, the bond between partners is built on trust. they fight side by side without hesitation, watch each other's backs in battle. they stand together through life's trials, stronger than any single individual is alone.
she and steve have already fought through darkness together. he has already had her back, and she his. she would not trade the days and nights they have spent in each other's company for anything in the world, and wants to experience as many of them as she can. partner seems like a perfectly logical thing to call him.]
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He thinks she must or else she would have abandoned him by now. She doesn't strike him as the kind of woman who would stick by a guy just because she's saved his life a couple of times now.]
Does partners mean the same thing on Themyscira as it does here?
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because that is what it feels like. she is giving him the gift of her company. of her innocence. her simple belief that the world is, and can be, a good place. even if sometimes he just wants to shake her to make her understand that the world isn't and will never be that place, he can't deny how refreshing it is too. especially when he has been surround by nothing by some the darkest deeds man has done.
it's going to break his heart when she realizes how things really are. a part of him would give anything to protect her from the knowledge. her belief is just too important for this world to ever lose.
but that's not to think about right now. not when her breathing is soft, steady beside making him feel a peace he hasn't in such a long time. she is warm against him, and steve can't take his eyes off of her. like this all might really be a dream.
his fingers are combing carefully through her hair when he feels her stir, more than just shifting in her sleep. it's still dark out. there are still hours before either of them have to face the war, and the job that is left for them. ]
It's not time to get up quite yet. You should rest more.
[ steve isn't ready for this to be over with yet. ]
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cold. that's the best word she can find to describe it.
now, though, when she begins to stir — cold is not what comes to mind. the warmth that emanates from steve beside her is enough to fill her from head to toe, to make everything outside of this room feel like a distant memory. she keeps her eyes closed for a minute, two minutes longer, simply to relax into the feeling of his fingers in her hair. a smile spreads across her face, unbidden.
the word that's just on the tip of her tongue is content. at sunrise, she knows, it'll vanish when the war returns, when they take up their arms and do what they came here to do, but for this moment, she can be at ease in it.
she shifts to face him, reaches out a hand to brush his face. when she speaks, her voice is soft, barely above a whisper.]
If I should rest, then you should also rest.
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"men are still good." what bruce had said to her as metropolis, as the world had mourned superman comes back to her now. it's a beautiful sentiment, even if she has learned that it is a little too simplistic to fully encompass the truth. men are much more complicated than she'd thought all those years ago, with no easy explanation for the cruelty and horrific things that exist everywhere, but there will always be goodness in their hearts, too; it can be seen in random acts of kindness, in sacrifices made unflinchingly.
and that is what is worth protecting.
she places the watch with the photograph, locks them away both in a safe and deep in her heart, and walks toward the future. there's a new war to fight now, one that is not in her personal mandate to look away from. plans are made, she takes a flight back to the united states. they start looking for the others.
it's late into the second night of their work in bruce's base of operations, and diana finds her eyes starting to grow tired; so far, it's been a lot of poring through files and staring at screens without much to show for it. she blinks and turns away from her own task, finding bruce in the half-light. the silence that's persisted between them for hours is finally broken as she ventures:]
I will tell you my story if you will tell me yours. It seems like a fair exchange.
[especially if they are to work together.]
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In reality? A comfortable silence is what he prefers, at times. To be left alone and untouched by sideways social pressures is what he yearns for some days. He takes comfortable silences as something to accept and even appreciate.
The silence is finally broken, with a statement Bruce hadn't expected to come from Diana. The photograph really had been hers, and, like him, she has an identity to maintain as well. It's not as if she could explain away looking identical to a woman in a photograph from World War I to the general populace.
A secret to keep, a reminder to maintain. In that way, they were alike.
He glances to her, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.]
I'm not sure what there is to tell. It's been in every newspaper, every magazine, every... everything. The start of it, at least.
[As Bruce Wayne, he took the death of his parents hard. As Bruce Wayne, he did everything in his power to repair the growing cracks in the city. As Batman?
Ask any Gothamite what they think of the Bat. They know he exists, but why is a mystery to them all, outside of the superficial crime-fighting scenarios.]
What do you want to know?
[It's unusual of him to answer so freely. He may, perhaps, not even answer everything. Some things a man has to keep to himself.
But they're teammates now. They're looking for others like themselves. Something had to eventually give if they're to fight this war to its end.]
/mix and mashes (post aou)
The climate is warmer than he's accustomed to, although certainly not unpleasant, and the food and cultural more kind of a joy to lose himself in. He likes the mornings best, with sunrise just another event in the lives of busy natives. He likes the narrow streets of island villages, too, where cars aren't allowed. He likes the fishermen who head out before dawn, the shopkeepers setting up for an influx of business later in the day.
Somewhere, he picked up enough Greek for conversation purposes, which makes haggling for breakfast in the markets more enjoyable. Most of all, Bucky likes the part where he's unnoticeable. Just another American expat traveling through Europe. He's still paranoid, still doesn't sleep more than a few hours, still ready to run at a second's notice. The Mediterranean mindset feels comfortable right now, though. And he's loath to upend that.
He's not too loath to address the lady standing next stall over, though. Blue eyes flick down at the fruits and vegetables for sale. ]
Those ... bananas any good?
[ At least Bucky thinks they're bananas. ]