Steve/Erik
It's a charity ball, thrown by Tony, and the team comes out in full force. Wanda and Pietro drawn out in reluctant splendour, new clothes paid for by Tony and chosen by Pepper, and Steve smiles to see the pair find their own space. A little bit back from the main area of the party, but they are there, and making conversation when people turn to them.
Bucky and Sam are in the room too, similarly hanging back from the crowd that gathers around the key members of the team, both dressed in the same style formal uniforms and with their hands ever linked together. Fresh soulmates, and when Bucky catches Steve looking, he meets the look with a reassuring smile. Steve starts making his way around the party's core towards the pair, nodding at those who acknowledge him, doing the polite thing to exchange words with those who speak to him.
He can't help but be reminded of what purpose this night serves with every glance at the crowd. Tony's made sure to invite plenty of mutants, his invitations not limited to the Xmen. The Gurthie Foundation provided scholarships to mutant university students, and Tony's pushing for more donations in response to their request for help, a combination of his own pride and the Maria Stark Foundation mission. Judging by the clink of glasses and flashes of smiles, it's already a productive night.
Steve's just passing the corner that Pietro and Wanda have claimed as their own when there's a murmur, a shift in the crowd, away from the entrance to the ball room. Steve notices Wanda tensing, and that dancing flicker around her hands before her too turns to look at what's going on.
There's a man, striding through the doors, the crowd parting before him like the Red Sea before Moses. He cuts a most impressive figure, with his brilliant red cape, and the helmet tucked under his arm that gives away his identity, and a pair of keen eyes. The face of Magneto, bared for the crowd.
The number of mutants in attendance means that the reaction isn't just voice cutting off; there's flares of powers from all sides, several members even rising to hove above the rest, wings or mental powers keeping them aloft. Magneto stops his march forward nearly in the centre of the room, looking around before his eyes come to rest on Steve, and the twins beside him. The rich guests, black ties and bright ball gowns, quickly move out of the way, until it's bare floor between them.
"Wanda. Pietro."
Magneto has a voice that carries. Steve can immediately see how he's gathered so many to follow him. He has a presence that commands the room, draws them all to watch him and listen to his simple words. Steve himself has trouble looking away to check on the status of the rest of the team. Bruce and Nat are quietly guiding guests to the exits, Tony is fiddling with his bracelets and nods when Steve looks at him. Cling already has his bow in his hands, pulled from Steve doesn't want to know where. The team's more than ready, and yet, there's something holding Steve back from giving the signal.
Maybe it's the way Wanda steps forward, her power flaring bright around her, Pietro solid and steady by her side.
"We told you," she says, and though her accent has softened over the past couple of months living in New York, there is none of that softness in her words now. "We are not interested."
Magneto spreads his arms, the cape stretching with them, blowing softly in the air currents of the room. "Is this not what they think of you, of us? A charity project, a pet to throw money at? You haven't told them the truth. What for, I wonder, but fear?"
Steve won't ask what the hell Magneto is talking about. But there's a conversation in the future to have with the twins.
Pietro's spit hits the ground with an odd, ringing loudness.
Wanda's eyes are a burning red.
"Very well," Magneto says, and with a turn of his heels, he's leaving, his care flaring out behind him. Steve steps forward, his feet loud in the chilly tension of the room, and Magneto's grey eyes turn around to stare into his face. His voice is smooth, cold, the emotion gone, the words flat.
"I have done nothing wrong, Captain Rogers."
And it's not just Steve's mouth that makes a gasping noise, but Wanda's too, and he wonders, for the brief fraction of a second, how she knows.
"I'm going to have to disagree with that."
He's glad Magneto came with his helmet off; it makes it far easier to read the expression on the man's wrinkled face. He remembers when the words burned themselves into his arm; he's older, though not by too many years, and yet Magneto alone bares the signs of age that are for both of them, should be their's together. A moment of utter shock passes across the man's features, and then something different settles into place. Hard acceptance of the facts, determination, the firm features among old skin.
"This changes nothing, Captain."
Steve steps forward. Once, twice, and there is no backlash from Magneto, from the man he sure hopes has a proper name he can use, because it sounds odd even in his own thoughts. "I think it does. You're my soulmate. We can't be completely opposed about everything."
Tony starts laughing, and that's Bucky joining in with him, and there should be something said for the wicked grin on Natasha' face. And it's different than Steve ever though that it would be, even with the words that he's had since he was five, knowing that he'll somehow end up as he is now. Magneto looks at him, and Steve holds out his hand, wondering how it feels to go that many years and not hear the worlds that are firmly meant to be said.
Magneto looks at Steve's hand, and he doesn't shake it, but he does nod, and Steve will take that.
It's not much.
It doesn't have to be.