[FIC] Giving Up His Shield
Fandom: Ultimate Avengers 2 (2006)
Rating: PG
Pairing: Steve Rogers/T'Challa
Characters: Steve Rogers, T'Challa
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, I'm just having fun in my free time.
Summary: T'Challa is returning to Wakanda for good, and Steve has to make a decision about what he'll do.
Word Count: 931
Notes: Wrote this months ago, overly sappy, and very firmly animated movies only canon. Established relationship (things didn't work out with Natalia, and Black Panther joined the Avengers.)
Also on AO3
Steve was feeling good that morning. There were no super villains attacking, he’d done all the shopping, getting some great deals on sweet potatoes, cabbage, and some deluxe frozen pizzas. He whistled as he opened the door to the apartment. When he saw T’Challa gazing out the window, he dropped the groceries on the counter, walked up behind the other man, wrapped his arms around him, and nuzzled his neck.
“I’m home,” Steve said, resting his head on T’Challa’s shoulder. He had to bend a little awkwardly, but he didn’t mind.
“So you are,” T’Challa said. He turned his head to kiss Steve.
It was a slow, lingering kiss, and T’Challa stopped Steve’s attempt to deepen it. They rested their foreheads together. Steve could hear pigeons outside, amid the car horns, general traffic, and people talking and shouting. He felt his mood fall as time passed, and worry crept in.
“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” he said, remaining where he was.
T’Challa pulled back and for a long moment, he looked into Steve’s eyes. Then he turned back to the window and said, “I need to return to Wakanda.”
“For how long?”
He’d gone before, when Wakandan political matters required her king. The Black Panther was part of the Avengers only so long as things were peaceful and smoothly moving along in Wakanda. But he always came back to Steve.
“I won’t be returning to New York. My people need me now. There’s unrest, and…” T’Challa broke off, looking back to Steve. “I need to go.”
“Of course,” Steve said, and it was reasonable, he understood rationally, and he couldn’t be anything but rational about this. He knew that when he started seeing a king, that he couldn’t be selfish. “Your duties to your country are important. I can understand that better than anyone.”
One of T’Challa’s hands cupped his cheek. “I know you understand. That is why while I want you to come with me, I know that you will stay here, for your country.”
Steve pulled away. “Don’t make decisions for me, T’Challa.”
“I’m not. But I know what is in your heart.” He raised his hands, gesturing to all of Steve. “Steve Rogers, Captain America, symbol of hope and justice to the American people with more power than many monarchs of the past. This is who you are.”
“When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow.”
Steve bit his lip. “So soon? When did you know about this?” T’Challa did not meet his eyes. “When?”
“Last month.”
“And you're telling me this now?”
T‘Challa reached out. “Steve-”
He brushed his hand away. “I’m going out,” Steve said. He picked up his keys, which he had dumped near the grocery bags, grabbed his helmet off the hook by the door, and just stopped himself from slamming the door on the way out.
Steve drove for a long time. As afternoon became evening, he found himself wandering Brooklyn. It was familiar to him again, after all these years, and he had trouble remembering how it used to be. He rode down one street thinking he must have lived somewhere near here when he was a child.
Brooklyn, New York, America, it was all important to him. Steve loved his country, despite its innumerable problems and how often he’d wondered what kind of place it had become since he woke up.
But he had put so much of himself into it that he no longer knew who Steve Rogers was. He was Captain America.
He’d done what he could do for his country, but the Chitauri were gone, and there were other heroes now. Iron Man, Thor (when he wasn't chasing whale hunters), Wasp, Black Widow, even the Hulk. They were all still here. He wasn’t the sole hero to defend the US.
He returned to his bike and set off toward Tony’s place. He needed to blow off some steam.
When Steve returned, the groceries were neatly put away, and T’Challa sat on the couch reading.
“I thought you’d be asleep by now,” Steve said. He pulled a beer from the fridge and sat down next to T’Challa.
“I’m glad you came back,” T’Challa said, putting his book down. “I didn’t want to spend this last night without you.”
Steve accepted T’Challa’s hand. He rubbed his thumb over T’Challa’s knuckles. “I did a lot of thinking today, and you can talk when I’m finished. See, I’ve done a lot in my life. When people see me, they say, that’s Captain America, he fought Nazis, he's a national icon. But times have changed.” He set down the beer, opened, but full. “And I just want to discover who Steve Rogers is again. You said you knew me, but you know what I really love?” He leaned into T’Challa, holding his gaze. “I love you. And I want to be with you until we’re old and grey and no one gives a damn about who I used to be. Captain America has to stay in America, but Steve Rogers is just a man. I'm giving up the shield, T'Challa. I’m going to Wakanda with you.”
"I cannot ask you to-”
Steve kissed T’Challa, at first abruptly to shut him up, and then it lasted for a long, beautiful moment. “This is my decision. I love you, T’Challa.”
The moment turned eager and needy. They ended up on the floor, sweating, panting, and sated. Steve curled a hand around T’Challa’s. “Maybe I should go pack?”
“It can wait until morning,” T’Challa replied. He smiled, and Steve thought to himself that this was the right decision.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Steve Rogers/T'Challa
Characters: Steve Rogers, T'Challa
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, I'm just having fun in my free time.
Summary: T'Challa is returning to Wakanda for good, and Steve has to make a decision about what he'll do.
Word Count: 931
Notes: Wrote this months ago, overly sappy, and very firmly animated movies only canon. Established relationship (things didn't work out with Natalia, and Black Panther joined the Avengers.)
Also on AO3
Steve was feeling good that morning. There were no super villains attacking, he’d done all the shopping, getting some great deals on sweet potatoes, cabbage, and some deluxe frozen pizzas. He whistled as he opened the door to the apartment. When he saw T’Challa gazing out the window, he dropped the groceries on the counter, walked up behind the other man, wrapped his arms around him, and nuzzled his neck.
“I’m home,” Steve said, resting his head on T’Challa’s shoulder. He had to bend a little awkwardly, but he didn’t mind.
“So you are,” T’Challa said. He turned his head to kiss Steve.
It was a slow, lingering kiss, and T’Challa stopped Steve’s attempt to deepen it. They rested their foreheads together. Steve could hear pigeons outside, amid the car horns, general traffic, and people talking and shouting. He felt his mood fall as time passed, and worry crept in.
“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” he said, remaining where he was.
T’Challa pulled back and for a long moment, he looked into Steve’s eyes. Then he turned back to the window and said, “I need to return to Wakanda.”
“For how long?”
He’d gone before, when Wakandan political matters required her king. The Black Panther was part of the Avengers only so long as things were peaceful and smoothly moving along in Wakanda. But he always came back to Steve.
“I won’t be returning to New York. My people need me now. There’s unrest, and…” T’Challa broke off, looking back to Steve. “I need to go.”
“Of course,” Steve said, and it was reasonable, he understood rationally, and he couldn’t be anything but rational about this. He knew that when he started seeing a king, that he couldn’t be selfish. “Your duties to your country are important. I can understand that better than anyone.”
One of T’Challa’s hands cupped his cheek. “I know you understand. That is why while I want you to come with me, I know that you will stay here, for your country.”
Steve pulled away. “Don’t make decisions for me, T’Challa.”
“I’m not. But I know what is in your heart.” He raised his hands, gesturing to all of Steve. “Steve Rogers, Captain America, symbol of hope and justice to the American people with more power than many monarchs of the past. This is who you are.”
“When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow.”
Steve bit his lip. “So soon? When did you know about this?” T’Challa did not meet his eyes. “When?”
“Last month.”
“And you're telling me this now?”
T‘Challa reached out. “Steve-”
He brushed his hand away. “I’m going out,” Steve said. He picked up his keys, which he had dumped near the grocery bags, grabbed his helmet off the hook by the door, and just stopped himself from slamming the door on the way out.
Steve drove for a long time. As afternoon became evening, he found himself wandering Brooklyn. It was familiar to him again, after all these years, and he had trouble remembering how it used to be. He rode down one street thinking he must have lived somewhere near here when he was a child.
Brooklyn, New York, America, it was all important to him. Steve loved his country, despite its innumerable problems and how often he’d wondered what kind of place it had become since he woke up.
But he had put so much of himself into it that he no longer knew who Steve Rogers was. He was Captain America.
He’d done what he could do for his country, but the Chitauri were gone, and there were other heroes now. Iron Man, Thor (when he wasn't chasing whale hunters), Wasp, Black Widow, even the Hulk. They were all still here. He wasn’t the sole hero to defend the US.
He returned to his bike and set off toward Tony’s place. He needed to blow off some steam.
When Steve returned, the groceries were neatly put away, and T’Challa sat on the couch reading.
“I thought you’d be asleep by now,” Steve said. He pulled a beer from the fridge and sat down next to T’Challa.
“I’m glad you came back,” T’Challa said, putting his book down. “I didn’t want to spend this last night without you.”
Steve accepted T’Challa’s hand. He rubbed his thumb over T’Challa’s knuckles. “I did a lot of thinking today, and you can talk when I’m finished. See, I’ve done a lot in my life. When people see me, they say, that’s Captain America, he fought Nazis, he's a national icon. But times have changed.” He set down the beer, opened, but full. “And I just want to discover who Steve Rogers is again. You said you knew me, but you know what I really love?” He leaned into T’Challa, holding his gaze. “I love you. And I want to be with you until we’re old and grey and no one gives a damn about who I used to be. Captain America has to stay in America, but Steve Rogers is just a man. I'm giving up the shield, T'Challa. I’m going to Wakanda with you.”
"I cannot ask you to-”
Steve kissed T’Challa, at first abruptly to shut him up, and then it lasted for a long, beautiful moment. “This is my decision. I love you, T’Challa.”
The moment turned eager and needy. They ended up on the floor, sweating, panting, and sated. Steve curled a hand around T’Challa’s. “Maybe I should go pack?”
“It can wait until morning,” T’Challa replied. He smiled, and Steve thought to himself that this was the right decision.