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draconicseraphim) wrote2013-12-27 01:12 pm
draconicseraphim) wrote2013-12-27 01:12 pm
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A drabble for Wyn regarding Bruce and contentment
It started as discipline. As a way to ensure that he could maintain that careful control of his body. He could run hard through city streets or mountain trails, he could experience pain, he could take fear and doubt and transform them into tools to keep the monster at bay. It had taken years and he had learned a great many forms as he had done it. The joint locks of Jiu-Jitsu, the fluid motion of capoeira's ginga, the swift decisiveness of krav maga, and the gentle precision of t'ai chi's taolu. They were all familiar to him, even if the use of the more violent forms had waned while his control grew. It was still a way to center himself to use the motion of his body to remind himself, even here in the bustle of the city, that he could control it.
He watched the sun rise over the sleepy city as he moved from one familiar stance to another, as he grew warm with exertion and felt his heart rate increase but also knew in the serenity of the moment that he had nothing to fear. Not here, not in the quiet solitude of his rooftop perch, not with people that were the closest things to friends that he had known in more years than he could count below him beginning their days. There was a routine to the building now. Steve would be back from a morning spent trying to outrun his past any moment, Tony and Clint bickering around the coffee pot as they waited for the precious "life sustaining elixir of the gods", Natasha in a rare moment of rumpled imperfection as she deftly stepped between the bickering men to steal the first cup of coffee before the pot had even finished brewing and vanishing back to her room. Tony would only manage half a cup before Pepper swooped in, graceful as ever, to argue and flirt in equal measure.
And that would be his cue, freshly showered and with a sachet of tea ready to brew. Not that he'd ever use a whole pot but Steve and Thor were both increasingly curious about his tea habits and he'd begun brewing enough for all three of them. If Thor had bothered to crawl out of bed at this hour of the morning, that is.
Idly he had to wonder if the peace this particular discipline brought him was the same as the comfort Tony found in his machines or the way the strain of the years eased from Steve's face when he could take the time to sit down and put pencil to paper. In all the years that it had taken him to establish this particular routine it had never brought that kind of peace before but maybe here, now, knowing with exacting certainty what he would find when he went back inside, knowing that people he trusted, people he might even consider friends, were waiting for him to start their days with him... finally able to embrace in some small way what had happened to him, no longer running from himself or his past... perhaps this was what contentment was.
It started as discipline. As a way to ensure that he could maintain that careful control of his body. He could run hard through city streets or mountain trails, he could experience pain, he could take fear and doubt and transform them into tools to keep the monster at bay. It had taken years and he had learned a great many forms as he had done it. The joint locks of Jiu-Jitsu, the fluid motion of capoeira's ginga, the swift decisiveness of krav maga, and the gentle precision of t'ai chi's taolu. They were all familiar to him, even if the use of the more violent forms had waned while his control grew. It was still a way to center himself to use the motion of his body to remind himself, even here in the bustle of the city, that he could control it.
He watched the sun rise over the sleepy city as he moved from one familiar stance to another, as he grew warm with exertion and felt his heart rate increase but also knew in the serenity of the moment that he had nothing to fear. Not here, not in the quiet solitude of his rooftop perch, not with people that were the closest things to friends that he had known in more years than he could count below him beginning their days. There was a routine to the building now. Steve would be back from a morning spent trying to outrun his past any moment, Tony and Clint bickering around the coffee pot as they waited for the precious "life sustaining elixir of the gods", Natasha in a rare moment of rumpled imperfection as she deftly stepped between the bickering men to steal the first cup of coffee before the pot had even finished brewing and vanishing back to her room. Tony would only manage half a cup before Pepper swooped in, graceful as ever, to argue and flirt in equal measure.
And that would be his cue, freshly showered and with a sachet of tea ready to brew. Not that he'd ever use a whole pot but Steve and Thor were both increasingly curious about his tea habits and he'd begun brewing enough for all three of them. If Thor had bothered to crawl out of bed at this hour of the morning, that is.
Idly he had to wonder if the peace this particular discipline brought him was the same as the comfort Tony found in his machines or the way the strain of the years eased from Steve's face when he could take the time to sit down and put pencil to paper. In all the years that it had taken him to establish this particular routine it had never brought that kind of peace before but maybe here, now, knowing with exacting certainty what he would find when he went back inside, knowing that people he trusted, people he might even consider friends, were waiting for him to start their days with him... finally able to embrace in some small way what had happened to him, no longer running from himself or his past... perhaps this was what contentment was.