#🎞️ –〘 steve rogers 〙– ‘ sioraiocht . – 🎞️

[bullsh1tterz]

IT'S ADAM & STEVE, NOT ADAM & EVE.

( @sioraiocht ) ... may have taken me 1000 years to make and I might have misplaced the moodboard call but--

[bullsh1tterz]

How is one meant to feel at a moment like this? Adam's almost attempting to distract himself by venturing to answer that question. A motorcycle ride back home would've been the perfect end to a date had he ever managed to get through one. He can picture himself and whatever stand-in hottie with their hair blowing in the wind, making innuendos and talking or reveling in each other's silent company as they cross the road. It makes him sick to his stomach - ties a knot up there which reminds him of his incompetency in relationships and the inevitability of his failure at establishing them. Don't try again. You shouldn't have tried this time. This isn't on you, but it would've been if the guy was decent.

A sigh escapes him as Steve speaks, wandering mind pushing the other man's dialogue into the position of an afterthought. "I bet." he simply responds, not denying the dislike, and yet letting one of his palms strike tighter against Steve's form. Personal dislike be it as it may, he's drained and in desperate need for... anything, really, to the point where he begins to feel guilt over finding a frustrating comfort in Steve's voice when he checks up on him.

"Are you?" he diverts, head sinking down so that his forehead might lightly touch the other's shoulder. Another sigh. "Y've been drivin' for a while now. If y'oughtta stop ta rest 'r gas up 'r somethin' I won't complain... much." he lifts his head up, sliding forward so that not a single speck of distance remains between their torsos. "Y're too fuckin' kind, Rogers."

Steve doesn't fully know how to get Adam to like him. Being himself sure isn't working. The guy's got whole opinions about him that're hard to overturn. "I don't think anyone deserves that type of treatment." He takes back the phone, looking down at the address. "It's okay." It's the other side of the city but he doesn't mind too much. Nothing calms Steve down more than a drive and a chance to collect his thoughts. On the bike no-one can stop him and ask him questions or try to take photos with him.

"Yeah, well - Believe me, it'd be more fun for me too if it was with someone who didn't outwardly dislike me." Steve couldn't help the words muttering out. He'd often thought about how he'd love to take dates out on his bike, drive down along the coast, and pack a picnic. Instead, he's turned into a glorified Avengers Uber service. He kicks up the stand before looking out into the street and taking off. Traffic, thankfully, isn't too busy, meaning that he zips towards Adam's address without too much hassle. "You good back there?"

[bullsh1tterz]

₊🎞️❜ |[ @sioraiocht said ]|   :

❛ i don’t think i’ve ever seen you smile. ❜ { from steve }

His nose scrunches up as he looks over to Steve, not quite certain why that's come up. "You wanna?" he asks, turning back to fiddle around with his camera.

"Say somethin' worth smilin' at 'n bob's your uncle, Rogers."

[bullsh1tterz]

🎞️❜ |[ @sioraiocht said ]|   :

❛ hold still. this might sting a little. ❜ { from steve }

"I'm holdin' still already!" Adam protests, hand still quivering in the other's hold, however. He can't help it - he's pretty sure there's some sort of nerve damage there but he's too much of a prideful moron to admit it. "Just." voice goes lower as though holding something back. "Get it done with, okay? You hold it still." he pauses, looking at Steve and letting his nose scrunch up at the sight of him. He, too, appears to have about him the marks of the previous altercation. Not quite as harmed as the civilian that Adam is, but enough to warrant medical attention.

"... then it's gonna be your turn." he decides, mumbling it softly yet loud enough for the other to hear.

[bullsh1tterz]

: : @sioraiocht : : GETS SOMETHING VERY NECESSARY FOR SCIENCE.

Adam halts his run on instinct, turning behind him and preparing to yell at whoever's there. "Okay, wh-" a pause, mouth shut for a second. "Oh. Rogers." He runs a hand through dampened locks. Damn it. These runs are supposed to diffuse his stress, not add to it!

"What is it?" he asks, breath not yet stable as his hands draw down the seams of his shirt, pulling it off entirely so as to rinse the sweat off of it. He's assuming this encounter's not going to be a swift 'hi'-'goodbye' exchange, so might as well get a breather out of it.

[bullsh1tterz]

₊🎞️❜ |[ @sioraiocht said ]|   :

❛ ah, so you're not heartless after all. ❜ { From steve }

Adam clicks his tongue, not quite liking the implications of what's being said. So, he fussed a little over him when he saw him fighting some big-shot villain and then followed and snapped a few shots of the guy when he escaped. So, he's here to hand them in for free. That doesn't mean he's got a heart! He's just doing his due diligence so the cops will leave him alone. He does have some 'petty theft' and a couple 'possession of illegal substances' waiting to happen if he doesn't buckle up and take suspicion off of himself. That's what this is.

"Oh, don't let one act o' kindness fool ya, Rogers. I left that thing back in the womb." he tells him, placing the pictures on the table. "There's one there of you fightin' 'im. Couldn't resist snappin' there cuz the angle was just right." he then says, finally meeting his gaze. "All yours. Memorabilia or whatever."

[bullsh1tterz]

@sioraiocht's soldier fellows. ( also as a sorry for Adam's being a bitch to Steve )

[bullsh1tterz]

₊🎞️❜ |[ @sioraiocht said ]|   :

this place gives me the creeps. { from steve }

He hangs back just a second, tilting his head just to name-call. "Pussy." And yet there's a smirk about his lips. "It's gonna be fine, y're just not used to stoner scenes." a pause, palm extended casually.

"I can hold y'hand if it'll stop ya from pissin' y'pants tho."

[bullsh1tterz]

₊🎞️❜ |[ @sioraiocht sent ]|   :

[ DISCOVER ]  for sender to see receiver’s scars for the first time { steve!}

The air stirs still as he pulls the blanket off of himself - much too early in the morning - and realizes he hadn't put a shirt on for the night. No shirt and, much more frustratingly, no concealer. It had been wiped clean off from his tossing and turning over Steve's sheets.

Oh. Steve's sheets. Fuck. Shuffling sideways to make view of him, Adam clears his throat. Instinctively, his hand is reaching towards the gun-shot wound, now a stitched-up scar right betwixt his shoulders and chest as though to shield it - keep it a secret. All in vain. He can't tell what the state of his back is, but suffice to say the burn marks and scabs riddling it are starting to show below the cheap makeup.

"... Er- Mornin', I guess." he's quick to get the first word in, other hand extending just to the tip of Steve's hair and trailing along his face to cup it just for a second. "Is that supposed ta be y'r bedhead?" Then, it retracts, eyes aside in an almost awkward sheepishness at the exposure of his long-aged wounds. "Damn."

[bullsh1tterz]

From Steve!

Bucky is very smugly looking at Adam like “I told you so”

Also the lighter blue ones are more situational based!

ARE YOU 🫵 ADAM'S TYPE!? : : @sioraiocht

The man was too stunned to speak. ONE box and he's literally ideal wtf, Steve Rogers, you poor poor soul!? Well, even poorer a soul since we're actually building up to something. I cannot.

"Still not infamous. Pass." The crude bitch that Adam is - at least he's actually making a joke this time.

"Fine, fine, Rogers. Hear ya loud 'n clear. I'm holdin' ya up ta that joint-sharin' tho, buckle up." ... Is that a smile on his face? Could be. Could be.

[bullsh1tterz]

₊🎞️❜ |[ @sioraiocht sent ]|   :

🤗 Pull my muse into a hug { from steve }

He can feel his breath struggling to slither out of his throat, scratching his insides and clouding his every sense. He doesn't know when or how he'd started crying, really, but that's what he seems to be doing right now. His mind's all over the place, the events only now beginning to sloppily play back in his head all out of whack. Horror movie. Fun premise. Severed hand. Terrible dialogue. Beefcake actor. Severed hand. Severed hand. Fuck, fuck, fuck damn it all, he can't think straight - he can't think past it. He.... He can't do anything but struggle to find his breath - locate where it comes from. Where is it? It's gone. He's going to die. Good. Then he wouldn't keep flashing back to-

And pressure - a firm envelopment of his form. Instinctively, desperately, he clings to the other, head buried into his shoulder, any whimpering or screaming all choked up into forced silence. Pathetic. He must be so pathetic right now, relearning how to breathe in Steve's grasp - regaining himself as a whole. Yet even in his daze and desperation, his hands fall lightly on the other, never quite putting any extra pressure on as they blithely land against his back. He somewhat strokes it, even, acting in the manner of the comforter rather than the comforted out of pure habit.

"...I..." he manages to pronounce the letter - barely, but he does - and it gives him enough courage to breathe again. "I'm... fine now... I'm good. You can- god this is so fucking humiliating - you can let go o' me, Rogers." he says, yet every inch of him remains unmoved. Save for his head, which rubs a little closer in against the other's, dark locks brushing along the side of his neck, breath now much more stable against his upper shoulder.

[bullsh1tterz]

It had been an impulsive action- a push forward of his form against Steve's with an arm shoved up against the wall to perch him. Now, though, as the other perpetuates it into a kiss, everything becomes much more ... intended - conscious. His chest stirs like no other at the stroke, melting into the touch as he slowly slides his wall-free palm away from his side and along Steve's waist. There's a teasing quality to the blitheness of the touch - the slow pace of the motion, yet the kiss itself falls determined and firm, growing wilder in its mastery the more Adam leans into it. It's like he's putting years and years of messing around right into the earnest sentiment - an effortless effort, so to speak.

A halt to breathe, then, sends his eyes opening again to regard Steve, palm on his waist clawing slightly into the fabric of his shirt. Many a thought riddles his mind - flashes of how they've been and what could've possibly built up to this moment. Steve, the common factor, feels unreal before him. Yet, in oxymoronic contradiction, unfeasibly real. His breath, his touch, his voice. He's before Adam and all he can think to lead with is...

"...huh." for once, he's not frowning, breath steady but quick. He's just watching the other for a moment - taking every feature of him in before the hand on his waist drums up to press at his chest, another kiss, this time quick - awfully, painfully gentle, diabetically sweet - planted on his lips. Adam's eyes remain narrow in their fondness even after. "For America's supposed golden boy, ya sure know how ta kiss a sleaze-bag, s... Rogers." he almost teases, the corners of his lips twitching into the ghost of smirk before reverting to a more sincere expression as he mumbles "... that was nice."

~ @bullsh1tterz || [ALLEYWAY] The sender pins the receiver against the wall in the dimly lit alley. (( @ steve! LISTEN IK THAT'S NOT EXACTLY THE MEME'S PURPOSE BUT, FIRST KISS??? )) ~

Steve's breath catches in his chest as Adam pins him against the wall. They'd cut through it to lose the paparazzi, determined to get a picture of Captain America and the new person he's been spending time with. In the dim light, Steve stares at Adam, unable to ignore the pounding feelings that come up every single time he looks at the other man. They're suffocating. On hand is on Adam's hips, gently drawing him close as the other slides up to rest at his neck. Before either can say anything, Steve's kissing him, thumb gently stroking across his jawline.

[bullsh1tterz]

Adam had, indeed, gotten pictures of the other's fumble. Two, to be precise, before he let his camera fall over the sling about his shoulder out of a pang in his chest at his state.

"... Shut up, man." There's some sweat trickling down his forehead as a result of having run to Steve, though Adam swears even to himself that it's simply the effect of the heat. "I got pictures of Stark fucking up. I'll sell those." he decides to say, perhaps off-handedly reassuring Steve that his state won't get any more public than this, as he takes gentle hold of his shield-free arm and throws it over his own shoulder.

As Adam tries to help him up, his free hand slacks down to the flannel tied around his own waist, undoing the knot. He then wraps it around where Steve's hand used to be and tightens it over the area, concern lining his otherwise aggressive complexion. "How's this?" he asks, turning up to meet his gaze. From his own experience alone, though, he reckons that as much pressure as one needs. In fact, it might be a little too close to perfection, as though it's something he's much too used to doing. "I don't know jack about the super serum or what it does to ya - is this enough for a hospital visit 'r do I take ya back to mine 'r the Avengers Compound 'r somethin'?"

~ @bullsh1tterz || would you relax for a second? i'm just checking on you. (( For Steve. Yes he's yelling it ofc he is. 🥺✊)) ~

Steve flinches, dazed as he stares up at Adam. Every inch of him hurts, there's a pounding in his head and he's fairly certain a lot of him is fractured and bleeding but they won. It's over. All he wants to do is sleep. But he can't, because Captain America can't stay down and he knows people are watching. Hand grips at the shield, using it to push himself upright, face contorted from the pain. "Did you get some good photos?" Hand grasped at his side to ease pressure on his ribs. "Reckon you'll get good money for pictures of me getting my ass handed to me."

[bullsh1tterz]

A little cough as he gulps down on much too generous a sip, body sent forward, then, to clink their beers together. Adam may or may not have gotten a... three-can head start prior to inviting Steve. Was he even the one who invited him? This might not be his place to begin with. He doesn't know. He's an uncountable number of cans into this and he's pretty damn sure he's drunk - hammered. And for some reason it makes Steve all the more picturesque.

"'m not hungry. 're you? I can cook ya somethin' up when the table stops dancin'." he tells him, getting up and sluggishly approaching the opposite couch before flinging himself with a loud thump right beside Steve. "Sober me likes ya more than drunk me, he's just sadder." he says, head spinning just a tad as his gaze remains pinned forward. "You won't need ta remind him. He knows what 'm sayin', he's not tha type ta forget." talking about himself in third person, though, now that he'd beat his drunk self over.

Leaning sideways, he looks to Steve, hand careful not to touch him at all in spite of the deep urge to. "My head's all outta whack but I still know ya like mango smoothies." he... brags, almost? "I'll remember just fine. I always do." then, a melancholy. "even when I don't wanna..." a beat, eyes flicking intently over Steve's form, then landing right on his own. "Y're such a cutie."

~ @bullsh1tterz || "I'm so drunk right now, but I still know one thing… I'm lucky to have you in my life." (( @ STEVE OMG BRO IS HAMMERED BUT HE MEANS IT FS )) ~

The words catch Steve by surprise, his eyes looking to Adam as if searching to see whether or not he's serious. He has to be honest, half the time he doesn't know what the other guy thinks of him. Some days he feels like an almighty pain in Adam's ass but then other days there are moments where he thinks they actually get along pretty well. As a result, to hear Adam express any form of sentiment is catching him completely unawares. So much so that he's half expecting him to follow it up with a sarcastic comment.

But nothing comes.

Steve's head drops into a nod, hiding the soft smile that's formed on his lips. "Hell, I'm the lucky one. Haven't felt this like myself in a very long time and it's thanks to you." He lifts his beer, leaning over to cheers it against Adam's drink. "You've had an impact on my life. And I will 100% be reminding sober you that you said that about me." He grins, leaning back in his seat and resting his arm behind his head as he takes another drink. Figuring that Adam probably doesn't want to keep talking about it he changes the topic. "Want me to order us some food? I'd offer to cook but I'd probably poison you."

[bullsh1tterz]

Adam doesn't argue much considering Steve's already gone in with the money, but he secretly plots to stash the dying bills somewhere on the motorbike. His pride would never let him take a superhero's handouts. Normal people's, maybe, but he's a firm believer in not letting the so-called benevolent 'win'. By the time the other gets back, he's already shoved the money into a little opening at the side of the bike's seat.

There's a little grunt leaving him as he mounts behind Steve and takes hold of the phone, clicks aggressively rattling over the screen from the sheer intensity of his frustration. He doesn't say anything at all until Steve talks - trying to console him out of courtesy, Adam assumes. Fucking good-natured people; always trying to do the right thing and not realizing it makes him hate himself even more.

"How do you know I don't?" he scoffs. "Whatever. I'm just pissed cuz he didn't pay his share 'n left me stranded. That's all there is to it." He hopes this explanation's convincing enough. "Here." He extends the phone back ahead. "Might be too far." he says, but doesn't tack on the 'sorry about that' he'd ventured to add.

"I'm bettin' this is someone's fantasy right now." he comments with a certain crudeness as he wraps his arms around Steve's figure, sighing. It feels humiliating - even with the abs. "Too bad it's bein' wasted on me, ey?" a pause. "Don't answer that."

Steve doesn't say much, figuring there aren't really any words that'll make the situation better. Plus, not that it's hard to tell, but he doesn't think he's Adam's favourite person. Advice would undoubtedly be ill-received. Brow lifts slightly, gaze dropping to the wrinkled-up money. "It's on me. Consider it government compensation for a bad date." He doesn't wait to hear anything else, heading inside and paying for the food as he picks up his order.

Once outside he puts the takeout into the bag at the back of his bike. "I've no helmet for you so you're gonna have to hang on." He slings his leg over the saddle, settling onto the bike and gesturing for Adam to join him. "Here - Key your address into my phone." He reaches back, holding the phone out to him. He pauses for a moment, silent. "And - For what it's worth, I'm sorry your date went so badly. You didn't deserve that."

[bullsh1tterz]

It's such a simple question. Are you drinking enough water? No, the answer's no. But he'd never thought about it before... because no one has ever asked - pointed it out to him. No one has ever cared enough to ask. How is he meant to tackle this revelation with any degree of sensibility? How is he meant to stop the surprise from showing on his face or to resist the sensation of that lingering, caring touch? He can't - couldn't for a moment - until he clears his throat. "Whiskey has water in it, I think." he quips, ignoring the fact that he's being thanked and taking the kit instead.

He opens it without looking at it, locating the desired items all out of habit as he looks Steve over far more intently than he ever had. If there's a visible injury on him, he's hell bent on spotting it - and he does, scooching himself closer and leaning Steve's way. "How'd ya even get yer cheek busted?" he asks, annoyed, bringing a hand up to press lightly against the edge of the other's chin, carefully steering his head sideways so as to make better view of the already-waning bruise. Then, and with a swift one-fingered twist at the cap of the anti-inflammatory, he gets the bottle open and uses the edge of his palm to squeeze some cream out, looking then to it for a second and allowing his nose to scrunch up a second. He figures the super-serum might help accelerate the other's healing, but it seems productive to offer the best treatment he can to aid it.

"Shoulda kept Arnica gel in there not-..." a little groan. "Whatever. This'll do." he looks back at Steve, dabbing his finger into the freed blotch at the tip of the bottle and sending it up to tap at the injury, stroking it, then, in attentive circular loops. His eyes don't leave his own finger in fear of meeting Steve's, breath slower to disguise a quickening heartbeat.

"Tell me if I'm bein' too rough." he says, voice softer than he might've intended. "... D'you've any injuries under that suit o' yours?" he asks, still engaging in the circular motion and even inadvertently allowing his thumb to rest against the edge's of the man's face.

Steve tries his best to focus on the wound, rather than any other thoughts that force their way to the surface. He also tries to ignore the knot of concern that'd immediately formed when he'd noticed Adam's injuries. He doesn't want to think about what it means. It opens up a can of worms that would only ruin the tentative friendship they've built up. The thing is - Steve knows that there's nothing there on Adam's side. He's fully aware that even if there is a universe out there where the other guy is interested in dating an Avenger, Steve's not even close to the top of that list. So, he has all the facts, he's not deluding himself. And yet, he can't help the softness with which he dresses the wounds and the lingering touch to his arm to make sure that he's okay.

"Are you drinking enough water? Might help the headache." He settles back, looking at Adam. He debates declining the offer, insisting that he'll be okay. But, for once, it would be really nice not to have to patch himself up. He nods, holding the kit out. "Thanks."