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( we never learned to use a compass )
[ One would assume that fighting for a common cause (Justice! Liberty! The Pursuit of Happiness! Something along those lines.) would cement the camaraderie between the members of the team with ease, but the opposite seems to be true. They've been working together, training body and mind for months now, and still Teddy feels that every session is a prelude to another irritating cockfighting show between the two so-called leaders of the team.
He's waiting outside the mansion's grounds, chewing on a stick of old Juicy Fruit that had been chilling at the bottom of his knapsack (it tastes like ass). His calves are freezing, courtesy of a Hulking-transformation before he'd remembered to don his gym shorts — there went yet another pair of perfectly serviceable jeans. If this kept up, he's going to have to work more than three afternoons a week at the records store to pay for his wardrobe alone. ]
—Bill!
[ Teddy had left the mansion when Eli had started defaulting to belligerence. Billy, bless his scrawny little soul, had stayed behind, but apparently to little effect; Teddy takes in the telltale frustration pursing his lips, and can't help the fond smile that surfaces in response. The nice thing about Iron Lad and Eli constantly attempting to tear out one another's throats (really not as cool to witness IRL as it is on Channel 7 with the real Avengers and whichever masked criminal taking center stage) — is that Teddy's found a friend. The sort of tousle-headed nerdy beanpole who natters at a mile a minute and can probably name each and every one of the various Avengers and their induction dates without drawing breath — the kind of friend that Teddy never thought he'd find, being sixteen and awkward and self-deprecating still growing into the breadth of his shoulders.
It's fun. Despite the complications and the exhaustion that has come to dog Teddy's every step, he looks forward to their training sessions. More than that, he looks forward to the time afterward: when he can wave Billy down and walk him home without needing to feel too self-conscious about it. He shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets, keeping himself from smoothing down his mussed hair.
(That's another unfortunate problem that has propped up over the past few weeks. Certain dreams of Teddy's have featured spindly white fingers and clever dark eyes with upsetting frequency, to the point that Teddy sometimes finds himself looking away when he realizes that his gaze has lingered too long.)
It's not really that big of a deal. Billy's lack of self-esteem and (...kind of adorable) obliviousness means that Teddy could probably let his gaze linger for a hell of a lot longer without giving anything away. ]
The peacekeeping mission was a failure, I'm guessing?
He's waiting outside the mansion's grounds, chewing on a stick of old Juicy Fruit that had been chilling at the bottom of his knapsack (it tastes like ass). His calves are freezing, courtesy of a Hulking-transformation before he'd remembered to don his gym shorts — there went yet another pair of perfectly serviceable jeans. If this kept up, he's going to have to work more than three afternoons a week at the records store to pay for his wardrobe alone. ]
—Bill!
[ Teddy had left the mansion when Eli had started defaulting to belligerence. Billy, bless his scrawny little soul, had stayed behind, but apparently to little effect; Teddy takes in the telltale frustration pursing his lips, and can't help the fond smile that surfaces in response. The nice thing about Iron Lad and Eli constantly attempting to tear out one another's throats (really not as cool to witness IRL as it is on Channel 7 with the real Avengers and whichever masked criminal taking center stage) — is that Teddy's found a friend. The sort of tousle-headed nerdy beanpole who natters at a mile a minute and can probably name each and every one of the various Avengers and their induction dates without drawing breath — the kind of friend that Teddy never thought he'd find, being sixteen and awkward and self-deprecating still growing into the breadth of his shoulders.
It's fun. Despite the complications and the exhaustion that has come to dog Teddy's every step, he looks forward to their training sessions. More than that, he looks forward to the time afterward: when he can wave Billy down and walk him home without needing to feel too self-conscious about it. He shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets, keeping himself from smoothing down his mussed hair.
(That's another unfortunate problem that has propped up over the past few weeks. Certain dreams of Teddy's have featured spindly white fingers and clever dark eyes with upsetting frequency, to the point that Teddy sometimes finds himself looking away when he realizes that his gaze has lingered too long.)
It's not really that big of a deal. Billy's lack of self-esteem and (...kind of adorable) obliviousness means that Teddy could probably let his gaze linger for a hell of a lot longer without giving anything away. ]
The peacekeeping mission was a failure, I'm guessing?