#I might post next week because I'm going to an expo and I might see some new friends there | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ftb-writes · 3 years ago

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I just realized I never posted last night, whoops!

The next prompt is a bit of a long one, so I'll just sum it up. It was a thread between @breastforce, @bitterfucked, @asundergrowth, and a handful of others, but those three are the main contributions, discussing different fantasy races and their sexualities, and bad world building. I'll post a picture of the whole conversation after this post.

This is a continuation of my What if... story from the other week.

"It is a weapons facility," Johann explains as the car turns down a dirt road.

Miss Carter, Phillips, Stark, and Steve accompany him, Schmidt having discovered that his worries were well-founded; a day before Steve's departure, a report came in the organ was on a ship bound for Italy. Johann had opted to sail out first, and he and his men met Stephen when his unit arrived.

The car -- an armored thing Johann apparently built himself, and treated like a precious child -- pulled up to an electric gate, and Schmidt flashed a smile at the guard.

"Welcome back to Austria, Herr Schmidt!" the guard greets enthusiastically.

"it's good to be back," Schmidt responses he flashes the man a badge as well. "How is your wife?"

"she went into labor while you were away," the guard gushes as the gate rolls open. "Twins, two beautiful girls!"

"Congratulations," Johann cheers, reaching out to shake the guard's hand. "You four need anything, you let me know."

"You're too good to us, Herr Schmidt!" the man says, voice thick with emotion. "We're doing fine, sir."

"I mean it," Johann reiterated before driving through the gate. "Even if it's just time off."

Johann leads his guests through the halls, explaining his group's study of the Tesseract -- which Stark is keenly interested in, asking many questions, some even complicated enough Johann cannot answer himself, promising to introduce the inventor to some of HYDRA'S top scientists.

It is on the next floor down that Steve can't hold back; he sees Bucky striding down the hall toward them and runs to greet his friend.

"I thought you might have died," Steve grunts as he hugs Bucky tight.

"I thought you might have been smaller," Bucky replies. "What happened to you?"

"I joined the Army," Steve deflects.

"I told you not to do anything stupid," Bucky sighs.

"And I'll say it again," Steve chuckles. "You took all the stupid with you. Now, let's go. I'm introducing you to those new friends I mentioned."

"Good to hear you and the men are alive, Sergeant Barnes. Colonel Chester Phillips, we met just before you shipped out."

"I remember," Bucky says; he looks relieved to see at least one other somewhat familiar face as he salutes.

"this is Agent Margaret Elizabeth Carter, and -- well, you'll remember Stark from the expo--" Steve starts.

"Always nice to meet a fan!" Howard cuts in.

"--And this is Johann Schmidt," Steve continues.

Johann pulls a face. "If we are going to be pulling rank, I am technically an Oberst-Gruppenführer."

Phillips frowns. "Well that's just not fair. How do you outrank me?"

"because I know how to kiss the right boots," Johann sighs. "At least it gets me information on Hitler's plans, which may prove useful in the major war effort."

"For information, freely given, I'll kiss a boot or two," Phillips grumbles.

"It isn't free," Johann says. "I'll expect a little leeway on any visits my men and I may make in America."

"If your Intel helps, you'll be allowed to come and go as you please -- in many countries," Peggy agrees.

"My thanks, Agent Carter."

"Now listen, punk." Bucky turns on Steve. "What did you do that led to hunting a kid-killer?"

"So here's what happened...

Steve finds himself on the roof of the facility that night, drawing the scenery. His brain swirls with thoughts, with the whispers of the dead, with troubles and worries... There are so many new things he is seeing now that he has tumbled into this underworld of hunters and monsters.

Now that he does have a moment of downtime, Steve finds himself thinking back on all his interactions with Erskine, nitpicking all the little details to find any proof of the betrayal.

"Trying to remember, or to forget?"

Steve looks over his shoulder to find Johann standing at the top of the access stairs, a dark bottle in one hand and twin wine glasses in the other.

Steve doesn't answer until after Johann has come to sit beside him. "A bit of both."

Johann makes an understanding noise and pours a generous helping in each glass, passing one to Steven. "I'll apologize now, the alcohol won't work on you with the Serum. At least you still look mostly like yourself."

"You haven't always looked like this?" Steve takes a sip of his wine. It's rich, chocolaty almost. Steve glances at Johann, frowning in concern as the German grimaces.

"The mask I wear is based on my original features, but it is just a mask. The unfinished version of the Serum I received left me disfigured."

Steve swallows and looks out at the horizon before quietly asking, "May I see?"

Johann looks at Steve for a long, quiet moment, before taking a drink and setting his glass aside carefully. He reaches up, fiddles with his collar, and Steve watches in fascination as the German lifts a cleverly constructed rubber mask out from under his collar. It's clearly more complex, meant to disguise his whole head.

"This," he says, as the mask lifts away completely, "is why I am called the Red Skull."

The moniker is understandable. Johann's face under the mask is blood red and skeletal, his nose gone save for nostrils, cheeks sunken and hollow-looking. Johann won't meet Steve's gaze.

Steve feels a twinge of empathy, an understanding of Johann's plight, if only a degree of it. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, "but I don't think this should matter much? You're still you. This is just proof that Erskine was a monster in more ways than one, that he would make something that could do this. I suppose I did get lucky, that the Serum made everything -- well, almost everything -- better for me."

"Sergeant Barnes showed me a photo," Johann admits, a teasing smile on his near-inhuman face. "I understand why you would consider this an improvement, Steven, but there was a sort of endearing charm to you before. I would have liked to have met you before."

"You'd be the only one," Steve mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. "I could never land a date without Bucky being a wingman, and most of the gals Bucky set me up with were dissatisfied. You must at least have dames that remember you as attractive before this."

"I wouldn't want them if I did," Johann sighs, and then his eyes widen in horror. "I apologize, Steven, I have forgotten myself. Disregard what I just said."

"You don't like women," Steve clarifies. His voice is quiet, in the deepening night, and he sees Johann wince and curl in on himself a bit.

"No," he admits. "Steven, please, this could have me killed."

"I know," Steve murmurs, and swallows. "It could kill me, too."

Johann snaps his head up, wide-eyed recognition and -- hope? Fear? A flurry of emotions, that he seems to try to clamp down on. "You--?"

Steve shrugs. "I've always seen both as good looking," he explains, "so I do have a chance of finding a nice girl and settling down in a safe life. But I do... prefer men, yeah."

Johann does not look so terrified, now, at least, and he chuckles as he taps his glass gently against Steve's. "To secrets, then, Captain."

Steve watches an owl swoop low in the distance and chuckles himself. "To secrets," he agrees.

"So, if you don't mind the asking," Johann casually prods after a moment, "are you and Sergeant Barnes--?"

"No!" Steve laughs. "Don't get me wrong, Buck's great! But he's like a brother to me. I do love him but not... like that."

Johann smirks at Steve's embarrassed flush, so Steve counters with, "Is Arnim--?"

"Gods, no," Johann snorts. "He is a subordinate. Even if I liked the man in such a way, I would never act upon it. Least of all with him married to an absolute firecracker of a woman."

Steve laughs outright; he can't help it. With what little he does know of Schmidt's right hand man, it's somehow easy and somehow not to imagine him with a more independent gal. "She keeps him in line?"

"She does," Johann agrees fondly. "Most men would despise that, but Arnim adores her. I think, should I ever decide to get a -- ah, wie sagt man? A beard, that I would want her to be like Anette."

Steve smiles and sips at his wine again, and Johann sips at his own. Steve knows this would have put him on his ass before the Serum, but their glasses are already half-empty and Steve still feels alert as ever.

"I see what you mean," he says to fill the not-uncomfortable silence. "About the alcohol."

Johann hums. "May I ask," he says, "how long you've known?"

Steve looks at the German, taking in his half-lounge. Johann appears completely at ease, now, and Steve's glad, that he was able to be the one to put Johann at such ease. There is no judgement between the two, and with no fear of eavesdropping, the two are comfortable. Steve thinks this might be the most comfortable he's ever been with anyone else before, and wonders at that, how a man he barely knows from halfway across the world could be this companionable with him.

"Always," Steve tells him. "As soon as I was old enough to know what a crush was. Buck knows, and my Ma knew, before she passed. My Pa had already passed, by then. You?"

Johann pulls a face. "Much the same. My vater--" this, he spits like a curse, face twisting in disgust, "said once he could tell as soon as I was born. Sheißkopf. He died when I was eight, and good riddance. A few years later, and Erskine found me on the streets."

Steve looks down at the ground, far below. "Did Erskine ever--?"

"Take advantage?" Johann finishes for him. "More times than I really remember. He'd drug us, often, to keep us... pliant. I think the only reason he kept me alive as long as he did was because I was his favorite plaything."

"That's disgusting," Steve grunts, stomach churning at the thought of Johann, defenseless and at Erskine's mercy. A surge of protectiveness wells up in Steven, and he shifts closer to Johann. "I'm going to kill him," he growls.

Johann sniffs, turning his head to wipe away tears and drain his glass. He pours himself another, and tops Steve's glass back up. "I hated myself for it," the German admits, voice cracking.

"It wasn't your fault," Steve says firmly.

"I know that. Doesn't change the hate."

Steve reaches across the little space left between them and brushes his fingertips against Johann's wrist. "It made you a stronger man for it," Steve admits. "If Erskine had tried that on me, I'd have probably died."

It is Johann's turn to look violently protective, now, and his face does something funny, like he'd just swallowed a lemon. "I don't want to imagine that for you," he rumbles, and the sound reverberates through Steven's very being. "Had Kruger failed, he may have tried after the Serum."

"What was Kruger doing there?" Steve slides his hand completely over Johann's, and the German states down at their hands before answering.

"I'd sent him to kill Erskine," Johann says, curiosity tilting his head. "Steven?"

"Must be the alcohol," Steve lies easily. "Should I stop?"

Johann snorts, knowing well enough Steven's still stone-cold sober. "I -- no. But perhaps, keep it here, for now."

"Because I can stop now, if you want," Steve adds.

"It's nice," Johann tells him. "But if someone comes?"

"They won't see us in the dark," Steve reasons.

Johann swallows again. "Don't tempt me."

"Tempt you?"

Johann sighs again and gently extracts his hand from Steve's. "Steven, this is dangerous. My government is even stricter about this than yours."

Steve feels the loss like a punch to the gut. "Right. Of course."

"The attention is not unwanted," Johann whispers. "But we must be careful."

Steve nods. "I've -- yeah."

"Steven." Johann's voice is gentle, but firm. "I very much want -- whatever you are willing to give. It must be in the utmost privacy, but please, I want it."

Steve leans over, then, and let's his lips brush Johann's cheek, and Johann whines softly and turns to press his own lips into Steven's. One of them moans, near-silently. The German is blushing bright when Steve leans back.

Johann carefully replaces his mask, shifts even closer so their knees are touching over the edge of the roof. "You'll go slow? I can't--"

"You can lead," Steve whispers in return. I know it can't be easy, living with the kinds of memories you have. But I can promise I'll do whatever I can to make you feel safe and comfortable."

"Thank you," Johann murmurs. "Intimacy is not my strong suit, I'm sorry."

"It's endearing," Steve teases, and means it. "You care so much, even with your difficulties. You deserve to have someone care about you. I'm honored you'll give me the chance to fill that role."

Johann laughs again, warm against Steve's cheek. "That's -- I didn't know what to expect of you, Captain Rogers, but the romantic side is appreciated."

The sound of heels echoes from the access stairs. "Steven? Are you up here?"

The two men reflexively lean away from each other. "Yeah, Peggy, what is it?" Steve calls back.

"Colonel Phillips is looking for you."

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