It was nice to hear that what he was feeling was normal, even if she didn't understand the exact context. It was even nice, in some ways, to know that he'd always feel like this. To know that, even when he was ready to move on, he wouldn't lose the feeling of wishing Peggy was still around. He'd loved her, still loved her, past and present, and he wanted to always remember that.
Sometimes Steve wished the world would just stop, just pause for a few moments so he could catch his breath and readjust his bearings. It wouldn't, he knew, and he never expected it to, but it would still be nice. He was used to adapting to the world, though, because he'd learned long before the War and Captain America that the world didn't shift to accommodate you, and if you didn't adapt, you died. He was used to pushing his feelings to the side in order to get things done.
He gave a small, humorless chuckle. "I think part of the problem for me now is," he confided wryly, his accent starting to come out thicker with his turn of emotions, "I got nothin' but time, and absolutely no idea what to do with it. What do ya do after years of living fighting and bloodshed and tryin' ta outthink the other guy, wondering if this fight's gonna be your last - and then come home to just-- ordinary. I used to say I'm just an ordinary guy from Brooklyn, nothin' special. Except now it's-- I'm not really ordinary anymore, 'cause guys my age are workin' 9-to-5 jobs, a lot have a wife, maybe kids now. And I got--" something caught his eye, and Steve sighed.
"And I got Mrs. Petrelli spiking the punch at a July 4th party for retirees."
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Sometimes Steve wished the world would just stop, just pause for a few moments so he could catch his breath and readjust his bearings. It wouldn't, he knew, and he never expected it to, but it would still be nice. He was used to adapting to the world, though, because he'd learned long before the War and Captain America that the world didn't shift to accommodate you, and if you didn't adapt, you died. He was used to pushing his feelings to the side in order to get things done.
He gave a small, humorless chuckle. "I think part of the problem for me now is," he confided wryly, his accent starting to come out thicker with his turn of emotions, "I got nothin' but time, and absolutely no idea what to do with it. What do ya do after years of living fighting and bloodshed and tryin' ta outthink the other guy, wondering if this fight's gonna be your last - and then come home to just-- ordinary. I used to say I'm just an ordinary guy from Brooklyn, nothin' special. Except now it's-- I'm not really ordinary anymore, 'cause guys my age are workin' 9-to-5 jobs, a lot have a wife, maybe kids now. And I got--" something caught his eye, and Steve sighed.
"And I got Mrs. Petrelli spiking the punch at a July 4th party for retirees."