brooklyn_boy | DRIFTFLEET PSL-stillgotmyleftarm

Calibrations. Christ alive, he hadn't expected even a fraction of all that he's seen. It hadn't been enough to just learn that Bucky is stuck here and still doesn't remember him. It hadn't been enough, on top of that, to also know 50% of the universe lost their lives because he'd failed, including Sam and Bucky. No. On top of that he had to watch memories. Memories of Peggy and Bucky and everyone else he cares about who had been dragged in here and then shoved back with no idea of what had happened. No way to fix things, just like he would have no way to fix things if he was ever sent back himself.

It is too much. It is all just too much. So Steve ends up here, at The Space Bar, ready to drink himself blind.

It is surprisingly easy, actually. Multi-universes and planets apparently mean finding something strong enough, even for him. And there is plenty to be had. This is his third night here in a row. And yeah, that isn't exactly heroic or healthy of him but, Jesus. He was kidnapped and two weeks later had all of this shoved on top. He needed a Goddamn drink. Or five.

An hour.

"One more," he orders, slurring a little but it's not like he has work in the morning. Besides, superhero serum almost guarantees a quick hangover, if even that. A drink is slid over and Steve cradles it in his hands, remembering the look on Peggy's face from Vision's memories. The memories of his own he'd lived through over and over again with the people in his own room.

He leans back, swallowing half of it in one go. Not even realizing he's nearly falling off the stool until he's nearly there and needs to overcompensate to fix it.

He needs one more; night doesn't end till he falls off completely.

Locked to Stillgotmyrightarm