“Captain, has anyone ever told you that you were wrong?”
Steve dragged his attention away from the phone in his hand and the newsfeeds he tortured himself with daily, looking over at the king with the soft,
open expression of a person caught off-guard. “—Highness?”
The king just looked at him.
He had a strange gaze that fell somewhere between a stare and a cursory glance, as if you were at once the center of his attention and yet also a curiosity presented to him without context.
They sat side-by-side on the leather couch before the stunning panorama of Wakanda at sundown, silence pervading.
Steve cleared his throat and set his phone down. “Bucky used to tell me when I was being an idiot,” he said like a verbal shrug. “Peggy was always willing to cut me down to size.”
T’Challa kept looking.
Steve frowned at him, unsure. “Are you telling me I was wrong?”
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