Steve laughed, a loud, boisterous thing, sounding just like what it was: all of the joy and happiness that he just couldn't contain, and had to let out, or he felt he might burst from it.
"No, it's fine. I actually have one." He made a wry, amused face. "It's just still in the box, on a shelf in the closet. Never needed it before now." Yet another apartment-warming gift. He thought maybe it was also from Natasha, but he couldn't be sure, because it had just shown up, and everyone had claimed it wasn't from them. Of all his friends, he thought only Natasha would 1: get him something so "modern", obviously trying to get him to join the new millenium, yet not fess up to it, and 2: be a good enough liar that he couldn't tell when he asked who it was from.
He moved to the little side closet where his linens were kept and pulled the box off the top shelf. He was a little ashamed at seeing the layer of dust that had already accumulated on it, from sitting undisturbed for over a month. Bringing it back out into the living room, he sat on the sofa and started opening the box and pulling things out.
"I hope you know how to set one of these up," he muttered, loud enough for Rogue to hear. "Because there's a lot of cords here." They were color-coded, which he figured if he'd been born in the last 30 years, might actually make sense to him. As it was, neither red nor yellow seemed like colors he wanted to do anything with.
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"No, it's fine. I actually have one." He made a wry, amused face. "It's just still in the box, on a shelf in the closet. Never needed it before now." Yet another apartment-warming gift. He thought maybe it was also from Natasha, but he couldn't be sure, because it had just shown up, and everyone had claimed it wasn't from them. Of all his friends, he thought only Natasha would 1: get him something so "modern", obviously trying to get him to join the new millenium, yet not fess up to it, and 2: be a good enough liar that he couldn't tell when he asked who it was from.
He moved to the little side closet where his linens were kept and pulled the box off the top shelf. He was a little ashamed at seeing the layer of dust that had already accumulated on it, from sitting undisturbed for over a month. Bringing it back out into the living room, he sat on the sofa and started opening the box and pulling things out.
"I hope you know how to set one of these up," he muttered, loud enough for Rogue to hear. "Because there's a lot of cords here." They were color-coded, which he figured if he'd been born in the last 30 years, might actually make sense to him. As it was, neither red nor yellow seemed like colors he wanted to do anything with.