“Oh no, I don’t plan on beating you,
there’s a thing called guilt.”
❝ That's your big threat? What you do to people?
'Lemme guess —- you guilted Hitler into dying.
He felt sooo bad about those innocent men and
women and children. O . K . Cap, good luck with that. ❞
“Tickle? That’s not even close.
Have you seen what I’ve done to
people?”
He grunts, trying to tame himself
from lashing out with anger.
❝ That’s not very Captain America-n of you.
It’s also fighting fire with fire. No point.
That’s just as bad as the bullies you were bullied with.
Beat me until I change —-? … Go ahead. ❞
“Do you even know what I’m getting
at? Think about that response you
just gave me, the typical; eye roll
and smartass response a teenager
would give, a teenager. Now ya’
better shape up, got it? And don’t
you even dare as think you’re
going to let that fly past you like
it’s nothing new, because I will
make you regret it.”
Ted finds this A M U S I N G ;
—- Captain fucking America
threatening him. He never
thought he’d ever see the day.
A snicker escapes him as
his arms drop to his sides.
❝ What’re you gunna do —– tickle me to death? ❞
“Your behavior.. Playing the asshole card to everyone you meet isn’t going to make you have friends, let alone have people who actually like you. I appreciate you gave the kid back his marker, but that last comment wasn’t needed, it was plain damn rude.”
He closes his eyes and sighs once more. “Act your age, not like some bratty teenager. Just because you’re a toy that’s alive, doesn’t mean you can get away with whatever the hell you want.”
It was a lecture he received
once before —- by another
person who disapproved of
his behavior and actions. And
just like last time; his response
remains the same: an eyeroll
and arms folded across his
chest.
❝ Whatever you say, Capt'in. ❞
Sighing softly, he looks down at Ted again and gives a firm look when he hears the inappropriate words. — He may be a cute bear, but who the hell raised him to be so rude? Weren’t bears — Toy bears supposed to be the meaning of sweet, caring, and nice..? Apparently not with this one. He drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out. “— Can I talk with you for a minute, bud..?”
— Oh boy, one of his famous what most would call a ‘dad’ talk was about to strike up. He was upset, yes, and surely he wasn’t going to let such a behavior towards a child continue.
Should have been predicted that
Captain America … or would he
prefer Steve — would like to speak.
❝ About? ❞
Steve tries not to smile when he watches the bear waddle off, quickly looking for something to write with; it’s cute he can admit that. Though it’s all peaches and cream for Steve until he hears the sudden sound of a child crying and taking glimpse of the bear taking the sharpie out of the child’s hand. — And that is one of the things you shouldn’t be doing in front of a man like Steve, in which case his brows furrow and a frown forms upon his lips as he takes the sharpie and ignores the others’ words to bring back the sharpie, or well at least ask the child if he can use it real quick before giving it back.
“— First off, son.. You don’t take things from others, pretty sure you must have learned that… Or well then again you’re a toy bear, but ask next time you want to borrow something from someone.” He pauses for a moment and turns towards the small child, crouching down and giving him a warm smile before ruffling his hair, telling him he’d give the marker right back. He then turned back towards the bear. “— Now, what is it that you want me to sign? Because I’m about a few seconds away from not signing anything.”
Frown lines set into his features;
vexed brown eyelids dropping.
Those small, dirty paws tighten slightly
around the sharpie —- suppressing the
urge to throw the damn marker at the kid’s
head. Maybe that’s why he hates kids.
Or why he was bad with them.
He silently thanks God that he cannot
produce any of them.
Those plastic brown eyes flick towards the
Captain, unsure if he even wants to be signed anymore.
He was going to joke with the Captain and say sign his ass —-
but now the joke wouldn’t be funny anymore.
It seeps into his fur and cotton to even feel
as if he is being weighed down.
Is this what guilt feels like?
The emotion fades quickly and Ted hands the marker to the kid.
❝ Next time, don’t be such a puss — fight back. ❞
“Sure, just give me a pen or marker.”
❝ Shi—- I don’t have anything. ❞
He peers around to find it in a child’s hand; a black sharpie.
Ted runs over, the fastest his little legs can take him,
and snatches it from the kid’s grasp — bringing it back over
in bated breath.
❝ Now I do. ❞
He ignores the crying child in the background.