stark_spangled | [PSL] Steve and Sam ; mid-Winter Soldier

"Something other than kicking my ass at running, anyway. I'll go ahead and say I like this one a lot better now, before I try this stromboli and forget I'm having lunch with someone."

It can't be that good, but if there's one thing he knows how to do, it's go along with a joke.

He chuckles slightly. "Depended on the day." The question doesn't surprise him, not with the way their conversation had gone at the VA. Sam himself had admitted one of the things he liked about being out was not having anyone giving him orders.

"The way I saw it - they're COs for a reason, you know? So I always listened to what they had to say." He pauses briefly, giving a little shrug. "Doesn't mean I always agreed with it, though. Or that I always acted on it."

You could say Steve's smirk turns a little smug, but the look in his eyes doesn't change. It's about having the decency to look sorry, even if they both know he isn't really. If he hadn't lapped Sam, and hadn't been a jerk about it, they probably wouldn't be sitting here. He had to do something to stand out, after all.

Steve laughs softly when Sam remarks on it depending on the day, tilting his head in concession. As he goes on, his words only ring with more truth. Steve sobers, brow beetled, and nods slowly.

"I always felt the same way," he says, thinking about Colonel Philips for what feels like the thousandth time recently. They may not have always gotten along, but he respected him, knew he earned his stripes. "But recently I find myself questioning orders a lot more than I used to. I don't know. I understand that sometimes you have to do... questionable things for the greater good, I just ... "

He shakes his head, staring off at some unfixed point. "I just thought it would be different."

Yeah, yeah, Sam can see right through that. He knows Steve really isn't sorry, but then - Sam's not sorry, either. He'd never guessed Captain America would be kind of a jerk, but clearly, Steve Rogers is.

Sam likes it.

He leans forward a little at Steve's response, listening. He could tell Steve was having doubts about things back at the VA, but this sounds like a lot more than doubts. This sounds like some serious uncertainty, maybe even a little suspicion. Sam doesn't ask for specifics, even if part of him is curious as hell, because he knows the kind of things that Steve's doing is bound to be beyond classified.

Instead, he focuses on his last statement.

"It should be different. Back when I was serving, I always thought - part of why I was doing this was for the way things should be, not necessarily for the way things are. Didn't always work out." He pauses, considering carefully. "If you're questioning orders, there's probably a good reason."

People forget that Steve's from Brooklyn, right up until he opens his mouth. He's the All-American Boy, the Star-Spangled Man with a Plan, but that doesn't mean he's some gentle farmboy; he's got a big mouth to go along with those sharp wits. Had to, growing up the way he did.

It's easy to see why he trusts Sam, even though trust is a precious commodity lately. He doesn't know him intimately, but he can dish it out as easily as he can take it, and that ranks him high in Steve's book. Besides, he's been there. What he says makes a lot of sense, and gets Steve to approach things from a different angle.

"Yeah. We get into this to make a difference, to make things better," he nods. For the way things should be, not necessarily the way things are. That's a good way of putting it. Steve couldn't have said it any better.

He catches Sam's eyes, and for a second it looks like he's thinking way too hard. (He is.) A smile cracks through the seriousness, though, and his words are light. "You trust my instincts?"

It's not something Sam'll forget again, that's for sure.

Assuming he's ever going to see Steve after this, anyway. For all he knows, this could just be some soul searching on Steve's part, and after it's done - or at least settled a little, Sam's got first hand experience that says that kind of thing is never done - that might be that.

But he's kind of hoping not.

"Yeah, exactly. Same reason I started working at the VA, actually, just on a smaller scale." And more successful day to day, he thinks sometimes.

It'd be easy to make a joke here, to dance around implying that he might without ever actually saying it. But Sam's not the kind of guy to shy away from some seriousness, when he thinks it's warranted. "Yeah, I do." Then he grins a little. "But ask me again after we finish lunch, I might change my mind after I taste the food."

Steve doesn't invite people in very often. As hard as Natasha tries to get him to talk more with Kristen from Statistics, he keeps his relationships professionally friendly and casual. It's harder to get burned that way, and almost impossible to lose something if you never had it. So Sam's case is special. He can count on seeing Steve again.

(Though he can't guarantee what condition that will be in.)

He hopes his respect for the man comes through, even when he's not implicitly vocalizing it. Steve has never thought of getting out before, never imagined a life where he wasn't serving, but if he did he can't imagine a better calling than doing the work Sam does. He wouldn't begin to compare the two -- active duty and counseling work -- but he doesn't think he'd use 'smaller scale' to describe what Sam does, regardless.

The joke tugs a laugh out of him, enough that the corners of his eyes crinkle and his teeth flash. "If you're going to trust any of my instincts, what deli to eat at is the one to put money on. I'm never wrong when it comes to food."

It lightens the mood enough to pull Steve out of his reverie, shaking off the dismal thoughts in favor of a real conversation. He drops the wrapper he'd been poring his attention into, and leans forward on crossed arms.

"I guess I'll figure it out soon enough," he offers with a slight head shake. "The world's a lot different than it was, but that doesn't have to be a bad thing. As long as there's still people out there doing good work, there's time to figure out the rest. You know, my partner thinks I need a hobby."

Oh, that's encouraging. But really, no matter what condition it's in, Sam'll take it. He'd prefer 'ready for a day of hanging out,' but it's not like he doesn't know that being Captain America means that probably doesn't happen very often.

Honestly, Sam'd started to see a little of that respect when Steve actually showed up at the VA. From a lot of people, 'I'll keep that in mind,' was a very polite 'not a chance.' Especially around a subject as touchy as trying to get a soldier to realize there's options out there, that they don't have to go it alone.

His smile widens when Steve laughs, turning from teasing to just a little bit pleased. It always feels like a win when Sam can get a real laugh out of someone, and he gets the feeling it doesn't happen with Steve as often as it should. "Yeah? I'll remember that next time I need a recommendation for a pizza place."

He takes another drink of water, nodding his head slightly in acknowledgement. They've got plenty of time, and that kind of figuring out doesn't happen in an afternoon.

"Your partner, that the redhead in the gorgeous Corvette?" She'd been pretty gorgeous herself, but it'd only taken Sam one look - and he can own up to the fact that he'd definitely looked - to get that there was a hell of a lot more to her than gorgeous.

"Sounds like she knows what she's talking about. Everyone needs hobbies, man, what'd you like to do before?" Usually when Sam asks that question, he means before the war, but here? Well hell, he's not even entirely sure.

"You do that," Steve fires back, as easy as a Sunday afternoon. The smiling and laughing he needs some work on, but bantering and exchanging good-natured insults? That sort of thing you never lose, if you're going to survive working with the kind of people SHIELD works with. It means he feels comfortable enough to let his guard down, anyway.

His smile grows a lot more lopsided when Sam asks about Natasha. "I'm surprised you even noticed the car."

When Natasha's in the vicinity, she tends to grab attention. It's what she's good at, and Steve's not so cynical that he can't admit she earns it, beauty, skill, or not. There's a lot more to her than meets the eye. He just wishes she'd let him see it every so often without wondering if she's just playing him. He sighs without even thinking about it, and bobs his head.

"Yeah. I guess I can be kind of focused," he admits, which is a watered-down way of saying he takes everything a little too seriously. It drives her crazy. "Before?"

He leans back for this one. There's a quip like the one he gave Natasha dancing on the tip of his tongue, because it's easier defusing the conversation with self-deprecation and jokes about barbershop quartets than it is to let himself think about how everything he knew really is dead and gone. But he knows when the moment is wrong, and right now he'd rather be honest. It still comes with a small, dismissive wave of his hand, though. "I was an artist. I used to work as a freelance illustrator before the war."

[PSL] Steve and Sam ; mid-Winter Soldier

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