beapeas

[beapeas]

Retreat

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Work Count: 1k

Summary: After returning from a mission, an injured Bucky hides away from everyone to take care of himself. When it comes to getting ready for bed, he needs a litttle help/

It had been a long week for everyone. With back to back missions the team was worn out and not performing their best because of it. You sat out today’s mission, instead spending your day in Tony’s workshop, fixing up some equipment. It was supposed to be an easy one anyways. You sat perched on a stool, soldering two pieces of metal together. The room had nearly gone dark since the sun had set over the city, but you were too in it to notice. It wasn’t long before you heard doors opening and footsteps stomping over your head. They were slow and heavy, seemingly dispersing across the building. You quickly set your tools down and ran up the stairs, eager to hear everyone’s reports.

It seemed as if everyone had already retreated to their rooms. Normally after a simple mission like this, everyone came home with adrenaline pumping, ready to swap stories around the table until everyone’s energy finally faded for the night. But today was too quiet. You bump into Steve and Natasha quietly chatting in the hallway, both with their eyebrows knit together and their voices hushed.

“Hey,” you interrupted. “How did it go? Is everything all right?” The pair turned to face you, and Steve sighed. You wanted to ask where Bucky went. If he was alright. But that would just be too obvious. The two of you had been teetering between friends and something more for months and Steve knew that, but you wanted to keep some dignity.

“Yeah, the mission was a success. But could you go check on Bucky? He took the brunt of it,” Steve asked. You nodded cautiously and turned on your heels, heading for Bucky’s room. He had a tendency to get beat up on a job, then hide away and lick his wounds alone. Leaving everyone to just guess he’s okay and hope he’ll leave his room for food. Steve knew, and everyone knew, that you were the one he was least likely to push away. You softly knocked on his door.

“Bucky?” No response. You carefully push the door open, half expecting to be turned away. Steve wasn’t kidding. Bucky sat on the edge of his bed staring straight forward. He didn’t look up when you walked in, giving you time to examine him further. He had a nasty cut on the side of his face accompanied by bruises dotted along all of the exposed skin you could see. There was dried blood around his hand, though you weren’t sure whose. His metal arm was discarded on his dresser, long forgotten about. You knew he wasn’t going to want to talk. But he was in one piece. 

“Why don’t you take a shower, Buck?” Showering was the first thing you did after a mission. It was the only way you could move on with your day or get into bed. You thought he could use the reset. At this suggestion, he looked up to meet your eyes. His face was blank, clouds behind his eyes. He shook his head. You nodded yours, insisting he took your advice on this one. “Come on, I’ll get it started.” Without waiting for a response, you crossed into his attached bathroom and started running the water, holding your hand out in the stream until it turned warm. Satisfied, you walked back to Bucky and reached your hand out for him. Despite his earlier protests, he took your hand and pulled himself up. “Go on, I’ll grab you some clean clothes.” He silently walked away, leaving you to rummage through his dresser. 

After grabbing a t-shirt, shorts, and clean boxers, you went to set them outside of the bathroom door. You were surprised to find it still open, with Bucky standing right in front of it, still in his dirty clothes. His hand gripped the hem of his shirt, wincing as he tried to pull it off. The few inches of skin that he managed to reveal were black and blue, making you shudder.

“Okay, okay, let me help you,” you said gently. Bucky would never ask for help. He probably didn’t want help. But from you, he’d accept it. You tentatively grabbed the bottom of his shirt and lifted it over his head, careful not to bump any bruised skin. You fought yourself not to stare. He was able to get out of his pants alone, leaning on you as he stepped out of them. He kept his underwear on, already exceeding his limit of vulnerability for the month.

You helped him step into the shower where he finally took a breath. His shoulders relaxed in the thick steam. You turn to leave him alone and give him the privacy you were sure he wanted.

“Wait,” he finally spoke. “Can you stay?” His voice was raspy, like he had been yelling a lot today. You nodded simply, glimpsing down at his arm which was outstretched to you. At his invitation, you slipped off your sweat pants and shirt, stepping into the shower in only your undergarments. You’d never been close with Bucky like this before, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Instinctively, you reached for the soap, rubbing it across Bucky’s shoulders and arms. You were careful not to hurt him, intently wiping away any dirt, blood, and sweat. No one said anything. The only sound was the water hitting the tile floors and swirling down the drain. 

After ten or so minutes of this, Bucky turned to face you. You weren’t sure what to expect, but you were definitely surprised when he wrapped his arms around you and melted into your embrace, resting his forehead on your shoulder. He wasn’t usually an affectionate person, let alone touchy or cuddly. You held him, rubbing his back as your mind swirled with questions you couldn’t ask. What happened on the mission? Why was Bucky the only one who came back black and blue? You stayed there until the water turned cold.

Once the two of you finally got out of the shower, you patted him dry with a towel and helped him get into his clothes before doing the same for yourself. Bucky still didn’t stay much and neither did you, but the storm in his eyes had faded. You’d take that as a win. You didn’t wait for him to ask you to stay the night. You crawled in next to him, pulling the covers up high. This time you leaned into Bucky, silently praying this peace between you two could stay for a little longer. Bucky found your hand under the covers, squeezing it.

“You know Sam is gonna bully me forever if he finds out about this,” Bucky mentioned. You quietly chuckled, both at his joke and out of relief that he was starting to act like himself again.

“My lips are sealed,” you replied as you settled in for the night.

[beapeas]

Mission Casualties

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Work Count: 2k

Summary: A failed mission leads to Steve and Reader being in explosion. Bucky is furious that Reader put Steve in danger like that. Or is he really upset that the girl he likes was in danger?

It was supposed to be an easy mission. A simple three person job that only required you, Steve, and Bucky. Get in, get the documents, get out. Nothing you hadn’t done before. But things changed, fast. Nobody was supposed to be there. But the building was full of conspirators ready to fight back. Bucky and Steve fended them off outside, but you saw a way in. You couldn’t have known that you were going to set off an explosion, and you couldn’t have known that Steve would take the brunt of it.

All you remember is the silence after. Listening for Bucky, knowing he would always come find you. The pounding in your head didn’t start until after Steve and Bucky dragged your half-conscious body to the helicopter. Your ears rang. Steve was covered in dust rubble, like the explosion had been right in his face. But he was standing, and he was okay. He took his seat as the helicopter took off for the compound. You sat slumped on the floor, realizing the mission had failed. You waited for Bucky to come sit by you, to make a joke and check on you, like he always did. You needed him to. Bucky had something else going on, though. He stood in the back of the helicopter, arms crossed, staring daggers at you. You can’t think of any time his anger has been pointed at you before. It was jarring.

“Are you out of your damn mind?” He hissed. You just stared back, trying to figure out if he was really talking to you.

“Bucky,” Steve countered, trying to ease the tension. Something rolled down your face. You weren’t sure if it was sweat or blood.

“Why didn’t you stick to the plan? We don’t make plans for entertainment!” Bucky began, his eyes never leaving yours. You shrink into yourself, clutching your throbbing side.

“The plan went out the window the second we got here, I was just trying to complete our mission,” You explained. You kept your voice low, you were so dizzy and speaking any louder just might make you puke. You wouldn’t look weak in front of Bucky, though. Despite your spinning head, you sat up straight and faced him.

“I don’t care about the mission anymore. You basically blew up Steve! Do you have any regard for your teammates? For their safety?” 

“He’s a Super Soldier, he’s gonna be fine,” you argued. It was a perfectly valid point, one that was proven just by looking at him. Upright and alert. “I was just doing my job.”

“Yeah, well maybe this isn’t the job for you,” With that, Bucky turned his back to you. There was a pang in your chest, like something inside of you had cracked wide open. Sure, you weren’t close with Bucky in the way that Steve was, but he always treated you with quiet, intentional care. You’d been with the avengers for almost a year, but Bucky made sure you didn’t feel like an outsider, or a newbie. Until now. Your eyes burned, and you couldn’t tell if it was from the ash that had been raining over you only minutes ago, or tears trying to escape. You looked at Steve, wondering if he heard the same thing as you. He gazed down at you sympathetically, silently telling you not to listen to him. You put your head down and stayed silent for the duration of the flight.

The rest of the day was a blur. The adrenaline wore off and suddenly, everything hurt. You were visited by a doctor who declared that you had a concussion and three cracked ribs, along with some other minor cuts and bruises. Steve got you settled in your bed. He made sure there was food and water in reach, as well as a pile of blankets, the TV remote, and your phone so you could reach him for anything else. Meanwhile from Bucky, radio silence. You didn’t have time to dwell though, the pain medicine made you sleepy, and you crashed in record time.

You wake up some time the next morning. Your eyes adjusted to the light coming in through your curtains. You lock eyes with the glass of water Steve had left on your nightstand. As you move to reach for it, you’re reminded of your injuries, feeling as if there was barbed wire wrapped around your waist. You nearly reach the glass, but the pain is too much, and you tip it over instead of grabbing it. It doesn’t break, but the sound of it falling on your nightstand is enough to send someone running in.

“Bucky?” You ask, still unable to fully sit up and see who’s in your room. You hear a familiar voice.

“No,” Steve sighs as he steps into your view. He sits down on the edge of your bed and scans your wound’s for anything concerning. One of your cheeks was covered in  a deep purple bruise, little cuts scattered all over your face. A brace sits on top of your tank top, binding your ribs together. You begin to remember the events of yesterday. “How are you feeling?” Steve asks.

“Like a bomb went off next to me,” you tried to joke. Steve lets out a stiff chuckle. “Is Bucky still mad at me?” You were almost afraid of the answer. Even more so when Steve takes his time to respond. 

“He’s not mad at you. That whole thing yesterday, that was- misplaced.” Steve stumbled through his explanation. And you saw right through him. Bucky was most certainly mad at you.

Recovery was slow and boring. You read some books, watched some movies, slept a lot. Steve was by your side the whole time. He was the only one by your side. You were fond of him, really. But Bucky had always been your best friend on the team. And he was obviously avoiding you. It had been four days since he berated you for putting Steve in danger. Four days since you had heard anything from him. Every day, you asked Steve why he was so upset with you. Why he went from being so sweet to you to so cold he wouldn’t even come see you when you were bedridden. It hurt.

You didn’t want Steve to see you cry, but on the fifth day of replaying Bucky’s words in your head, you just lost it. “Maybe this isn’t the job for you.” Did he really believe that? You pressed a hand against your broken ribs, trying to control the pain as you heaved with tears.

“Why does he hate me?” You sobbed. Steve didn’t say anything in response. He just looked at you sadly and let you cry on his shoulder. Steve knew exactly what was going on. He knew Bucky better than anyone. He knew how stubborn and guarded he was, and how much he cared about you. He knew how freaked out Bucky was when you were in the explosion. And he knew Bucky took it out on you instead of telling you how he really felt. Most of all, he knew he couldn’t watch it happen any longer. Steve waited until you fell asleep that night, then he slipped out of your room and marched across the hall to Bucky’s. He knocked on the door and let himself in.

Bucky was sitting on the edge of his bed, meticulously cleaning his vibranium arm with a microfiber towel and a bottle of Windex.

“What’s up?” Bucky addresses Steve without looking up.

“Buck, you need to get over yourself.” At that, Bucky’s head shot up.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Y/N. She keeps asking me why you hate her, what’s wrong with her. How the heck am I supposed to respond to that?” Steve stood over Bucky, saying everything he’d been needing to say all week. Bucky just stared back, horrified. He knew she was mad at him, he hadn’t seen her out and about in the compound. But he never thought she was actually blaming herself. “I just spent my third night in a row watching her cry herself to sleep. Do you know how much it hurts to cry like that with three cracked ribs?” Steve went on. Bucky dropped his cleaning supplies and his metal arm onto his bed. 

“She broke her ribs? She seemed fine on the helicopter,” He asked, a pang of guilt hitting him in his gut. Steve just nodded.

“And she has a concussion and half a purple face.” He stated matter-of-factly. “And you’d know that if you didn’t berate her then ignore her for a week.” Steve had to stop to catch his breath. Bucky held his head in his hand, processing what he had just heard. 

“Oh my god, I’m such an asshole,” Bucky admitted. Steve plopped down on the bed next to him.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “And she knows you’re not actually worried about my safety. She just thinks you hate her. I told her a thousand times that that isn’t true, but she won’t take it from me.” Steve stood up and walked to the door. “Fix it.” He said before leaving.

Bucky was up for hours formulating words to say to you. He felt like an idiot. He knew you weren't really leaving your room, but he thought you were avoiding Bucky, not on bedrest. He managed to get a few hours of sleep, and when morning came he was at your door. He knocked softly. You were never much of a morning person, but with training you were finally used to being up early. You managed a soft “Steve?” Bucky cracked the door open and responded.

“Uh, no.” He closed the door behind him and hung back, waiting for you to tell him to leave. You didn’t, you just made your best effort to sit up in bed, wincing at each movement. Bucky took this time to take in the state of you. The bruises were fading, but they were still there. Your torso was wrapped in a tight brace that couldn’t be comfortable to sleep in. Your eyes were sad, sunken in, and tired

“What do you want?” You broke the silence coldly. Bucky sighed, knowing he deserved it. He approached your bedside and knelt beside you, still deciding what to say.

“I’m sorry,” He began. Your demeanor instantly shifted. No longer cold and distant, now sad and small. Your eyes gleamed as they met his. “I shouldn’t have said all those things on the helicopter. I didn’t mean any of it. You made a quick decision, you couldn’t have known there was an explosive. None of it was your fault.” Bucky stared at you, silently begging for a response. But something in your face said you weren’t satisfied.

“So why did you yell at me like that?” Your lips pouted like they always did when you were upset. Bucky tried not to focus on it.

“I was worried. Not about Steve, you were right, he’s a supersoldier. I’ve seen him get blown up so many times. I was worried about you. I don’t remember the last time I liked someone like I like you. And I have to go into missions with you all the time, knowing we’re putting ourselves in danger. It scares the shit out of me. I freaked out.” Bucky anxiously awaited a reaction from you. A counterpoint, a scoff, maybe even a slap in the face. But you laughed. Not a dry or cold laugh, an actual laugh. Bucky nervously smiled, happy that your reaction wasn’t totally vindictive.

“You like me?” You asked, a smile spreading across your face. Bucky smiled back and nodded.

“Yes, I like you.” He laughed this time, and you reached out for his hand.

“Well why didn’t you just say that?"

“Cause I’m a jackass,” he reasoned. This got a chuckle from you, and soon, you two were laughing together. The giggles were cut short when your ribs began to ache through the medicine, causing you to clutch your side and squeeze your eyes shut. Bucky instinctively reached out, resting his metal arm on your broken ribs. The cold vibranium eased some of the pain. He slid into bed next to you, never moving his hand from your side. You sighed contently, leaning back against Bucky’s shoulder.

“Hey Buck?” You asked, sinking into his side. He hummed in response. “I like you too.” You gazed into his eyes as he flashed a soft smile at you. Bucky planted a kiss onto your forehead, and pulled the blankets up over the two of you. As you started to doze back to sleep, you forgot all about the day on the helicopter.

[beapeas]

Brother's Best friend

JJ Maybank x Female Routlege! Reader

Work Count: 4k

Summary: JJ drunkenly confesses his love for his best friend's twin sister. When John B tells JJ to back off, he accidentally breaks his sister's heart. It takes a surfing accident to set the record straight.

Billie Routlege had been tagging on to her brother’s endeavours for as long as she could remember, and tonight was no different. As much as she hated parties, her twin brother loved them, and that is where she found herself most weekends. As soon as the sun set, the crew hopped into the Twinke and headed to the other side of the island for a kegger on the beach. After a short drive, JJ hopped out of the van first and extended his hand to Billie, helping her keep her balance as she hopped into the sand. John B, Sarah, Pope, and Kie all trailed out of their little clown car, and they started their night. 

It has been about an hour since they arrived, and Billie was hanging out close to the bonfire with her book, watching everyone else from a distance. John B and Sarah were dancing the night away on the other side of the crowd, Pope was knee deep in a beer pong game with some guys from school, and Kie was arguing with a group of Kooks closer to the shore. JJ was playing bartender and chatting it up with anyone who stopped by the little card table of booze, though it looked like he was drinking more than he was handing out. A few minutes later, JJ made his way over to Billie. He was clearly drunk, swaying as he walked.

“Billie come dance,” He reached his hands out for her. She adored JJ, but she did not adore the crowd of people he was going to pull her into.

“I’m in the middle of a chapter Jay,” She motioned to her book that she had read three times already. JJ pouted his lip like a little kid and snatched the book right out of Billie’s hands. 

“I don’t care, come one.” He dropped her book into her tote bag and grabbed her hands, pulling her to her feet. She let him. JJ slung his arms around Billie’s waist and started swaying. She rested her arms around his neck, watching their feet so JJ didn’t guide them right into the fire. The light from the flames lit up JJ’s face as he hummed a tune for the two to dance to. Billie went along with it, though she was happy to spend time with him. She’d had a crush on him for years, but held off trying anything because of the whole brother’s best friend thing. It was too risky. That’s what she was thinking, anyways, when JJ rested his head in the crook of her neck.

“You smell good,” he mumbled. He was always an affectionate person, but this was abnormal. He’s just drunk, Billie thought. She just chuckled and rubbed his back, allowing herself to live in this little fantasy while she could. “Have I ever told you that I love you?” JJ asked. Billie froze in her place.

“You’re drunk,” she reasoned.

“Maybe,” he conceded. “But it’s true.” He wasn't backing down. Then, he lifted his head back up, looking at Billie. She searched his eyes, and she believed him.

“I love you too, JJ.” She was never a good liar, no use in trying now. She reached out a hand to JJ’s face, stroking his cheek. He didn’t waste any time, leaning in to kiss her. Billie couldn’t believe this was finally happening, after silently pining for him for years. He kissed her sweetly, not rushing. She rested her forehead on his, steadying her breath. They decided to leave the party, walking home hand in hand. Billie didn’t want to let go, afraid that she would wake up from this dream. It only took twenty minutes to walk back to the chateau where they crashed on the couch.

***

John B saw JJ and Billie dancing together. He saw them kiss too, the way JJ had kissed so many random girls on that beach. He was less than delighted to see his one and only little sister (by three minutes) become the next muse of the biggest player on the island. He had this talk with JJ before. He wanted JJ and Billie to be close, he was happy they were. But JJ knew better than to try anything with her, John B made that very clear. Before he went to join Sarah in bed, he decided to remind JJ of his rules. John B grabbed JJ’s arm, dragging him off the couch. He hit the floor, waking right up.

“Ow! What the hell man?” He sat up, rubbing his side of the face that hit the floor. John B put a finger up to his lips, reminding the boy that Billie was sleeping a foot away.

“Come here,” John B went out to the porch and JJ followed him, stretching his arms behind him and yawning.

“Something wrong with the twinkie again?” JJ asked. He closed the front door behind him and plopped down into a chair. It had cooled down outside a considerable amount. John B looked pretty warm though, his face was getting red. Oh, JJ thought. He’s mad. John B just stared at him. “What’s got your panties in a knot?” JJ knew exactly what it was. It took a moment, but he remembered everything. Shit.

“Dude I saw you kiss my sister! My very off limits sister.” John B just stood in front of JJ, arms crossed over his chest.

“John B, let me explain.”

“No, the answer is no. You’re not gonna treat her like your next-”

“That isn’t what happened.”

“JJ you’re my best friend. Like my brother. You don't kissing your brother’s sister!” John B threw his hands up. JJ winced at his unfortunate phrasing. “Look, bottom line is, you back off or you find another couch to sleep on.” It was harsh, but John B's stance was firm. With that, John B went back inside, leaving JJ on the porch to contemplate what he was just told. He wanted to be with Billie. He had wanted nothing more for years. All the girls he kept around were just distractions. But John B was serious. If JJ lost John B, he might as well have nothing and no one. He didn’t feel like he had a choice. 

***

The next morning, Billie woke up alone. For a moment, she thought last night was all a dream. But there she was, on the couch, in last night’s clothes. JJ must’ve just woken up before her, she thought. He would be around here somewhere. She looked around, and found him in the kitchen, sitting on top of the counter next to the stove where John B was cooking something. They were quietly talking when they noticed Billie standing up.

“Mornin’ B,” John B said. Billie approached the two boys to inspect John B’s cooking. 

“Oh good, I was really hooping for burnt pancakes today,” Billie joked. John B flicked her shoulder in retaliation. She hardly noticed, she was focused on the unusually quiet JJ. He stayed in his spot only a foot away from her, but he kept his head down. She just assumed he didn’t want to say anything to make John B suspicious. He was always pretty protective of her, and she expected nothing different this time around. “Hey Jay, can we talk?” He looked up at her and nodded silently, dreading what he would have to do. Billie stepped outside onto the porch, and JJ followed, once again. She didn’t see the look John B gave him, or the nod that he returned. He decidedly hated porch conversations now. 

“Look, if this is about last night, I’m sorry.” JJ started. Billie’s heart sank. He wasn’t supposed to be sorry. “I was really drunk, I didn’t mean to say all that or make things weird.” Billie thought she’d be leaving this conversation with a boyfriend, finally being able to call JJ her’s. She actually believed him last night. And now she felt so, so, stupid.

“Oh.” She felt tears pricking at her eyes, but she wouldn’t let him see her cry. That wasn’t good for anyone. She started to laugh, but there was no humor in her voice. “Of course, you were drunk. Why would you want me?" It took no time at all for her fears and insecurities to show themselves. "You can have any girl on the island, it’s silly to think you’d pick me. Glad we’re on the same page.” She blinked away more tears, leaving JJ to stare at her blankly. He was horrified, he wanted to hug her and tell her that none of that was true. That he really did love her and only her, but that wasn't an option. So he just stood there, mouth slightly open, like an idiot. When Billie realized he wasn’t going to say anything else, she ran back inside before the tears came in heavier. She ran straight past John B and into her room where she locked the door behind her. 

JJ stood there for a while, feeling like a piece of shit. Eventually he went back inside, but only because he was hungry. When he saw Billie about to cry, he wanted to get on his bike and drive it right into the marsh. But John B went to all the trouble of making pancakes. He kept his eyes on the ground in front of him and sulked into the kitchen where he found a plate of pancakes, but no John B. He found his friend standing up against Billie’s bedroom door, quietly talking to the girl on the other side. When he spotted JJ, he gave up on Billie and made his way back to the kitchen.

“Dude, what did you do?” John B asked.

“Just what you told me to do. Are we good?” JJ put a fist out. John B thought his sister would bounce back in no time. This was just a little bump, and if he had let Billie become one of JJ's little flings, things would have ended much worse. So he nodded and hit JJ’s fist with his.

Billie stayed in her room for most of the day. She was more introverted than her brother, so he wasn���t immediately concerned by her withdrawal from the group. She was embarrassed, then devastated, and landed on angry. Angry at JJ for being so stupid, angry at herself for buying it. She thought about all the years she spent with JJ. All the times he defended her to school yard bullies, all the nights he spent in her room when she was scared of a hurricane. She remembered the times she held him while he cried over his dad, or the many times she cleaned him up after a fight. She took care of him when he was drunk or high, she helped him with school, and worst of all, she really loved him. She went through pictures on her phone of the two of them together. He always had an arm around her or a hand on her leg. It didn’t make any sense. 

Billie spent almost a week driving herself insane like this. JJ was distant and cold. He thought he was protecting Billie’s feelings and his own, but it just drove the two of them insane. Sarah got Billie out of the house, taking her to the beach and to her favorite bookstore. Sarah was hoping Billie would talk about what happened. She got the lowdown from John B, but not even he knew what went so wrong. Everyone could see how JJ avoids looking at Billie and how she won’t walk into a room if she thinks he’s there. Even Kie won’t say anything, afraid to break the quiet tension.

One morning, John B stepped into Billie’s room to check on her. He found her curled up in bed with a book. It would have been a completely normal sight, but her eyes were red and puffy. His heart broke a little at the sight. He quietly sat down on the edge of her bed and studied her face. She finished reading the page she was on, then looked up to meet his gaze.

“You alright B?” He asked quietly. She set her book down and sat up a bit.

“I don’t know,” Her voice was a little raspy. She hadn’t used it yet today.

“Wanna talk about it?” 

“It’s stupid.” Billie waited for John B to respond, but he didn’t. He just kept looking at her expectantly. She decided maybe it was time to tell someone what happened. “It was the kegger last weekend. Everything was all normal and I was just sitting back, then JJ came over, drunk off his ass. He wanted to dance, so we did. And then he told me he loved me,” Bille told him. John B’s eyebrows knit together at this. “I know he was drunk, but he really seemed like he meant it. Then the next morning, he told me it wasn’t real.” The tears had started flowing again and John B wrapped his arms around his sister, pulling her into a hug. “I don’t know, I really thought he meant it. I really wanted him to mean it.” Billie had to stop talking, she couldn’t anymore. She just leaned her head onto John B’s shoulder and rested there. 

“Do you love him?” He asked. She took a moment to think about the question.

“I think I have for years,” was what she decided. John B felt terrible. He hated to think that his perfect little sister was miserable because he made JJ take it back. But John B had no idea what had really happened that night. He saw the kissing at the kegger, but he had seen JJ kissing a lot of girls at keggers. He didn’t want his sister to be just one of those girls. What he didn’t realize is that she never was. He made a mental note to talk to JJ and make things right next time he saw him.

There was a storm coming in later tonight, making for some pretty good waves out on the shore. Billie was tired of hiding in the corner of every room and hiding her face with a book. She decided to get her feelings out the way she knew best, and she went out to surf. Only Sarah and John B were home when she left. She let her brother know where he could find her, grabbed her board, and set out for the beach. Much to Billie’s dismay, Pope and JJ were out surfing as well. She caught JJ’s eye, but he was quick to turn the other way. Billie made sure to walk further down the shore, keeping her distance from the two boys. The waves were big and she wouldn’t let anyone stop her.

It was going well. The falling sun kept her warm in the cool water as she paddled out, and rode back in with every wave. After letting it all out on John B earlier today, she was happy to at least have one person who understood her. She felt her mind settling a little bit. The noise in her brain was being replaced with the swish of the water and the screams of the seagulls. JJ hated seagulls. They were loud and always tried to take his food. They shit on his bike when he didn’t cover it. Billie loved them. She wanted to be one right now and fly far away. 

Eventually, the sun had fully dipped below the horizon. Billie never liked surfing in the dark, it was terrifying. She decided to claim one last wave and make the trek home. She sat on her board, scanning potential waves to close out her night. There was one coming towards her, growing as it inched closer. She started to paddle out, adrenaline from the last few carrying her forward. Once she had finally reached the base of the wave, she hopped up onto her board. She was on top of the world. The wave was way bigger than she realized. She didn’t notice Pope and JJ in the distance, watching her take on this monster. She didn’t notice a competing wave coming toward her. Not until it sent her flying.

It happened so fast. She was soaring on her board, then she was under water. The ocean pushed her around, straight to the bottom where she felt a sharp rock rip into her thigh. She wanted to scream, but her head was under water. The boys saw the whole thing. The second she teatered off her board, JJ went running. Fight or flight kicked in and Billie used her arms to push her head above the water. She gasped for air and searched for her board. The salt water stung at the gash on her leg, she thought she was going to puke. She located her board and dragged herself on top of it, so she could sit up and assess the damage. 

Her leg looked bad. Some lighter scrapes outlined a deeper cut down the side of her thigh. Not to mention the sand and dirt that littered every little tear in the skin. Blood flowed out of it at a concerning rate. Billie was used to blood, but usually on the fists of her brother or cheeks of her friend. Not like this, and not this much. In a panic, she began paddling in. She practically crawled out of the water as JJ finally got to her. She ignored him, determined to take care of herself. Pope was just behind him, and made it right when Billie stood up. The sharp pain skyrocketed when she made it to her feet. It lasted no time at all as she fell back to her knees. 

“Billie, let me help you.” JJ pulled his towel off of his neck and tried to put it over her leg. She yanked it out of his hands before he got the chance. She tightly wrapped the towel around her leg, trying to keep pressure on the cut. The light blue stripes quickly turned crimson. Pope grabbed her board while JJ stood close by, aching to help. But he didn’t want to upset her more.

“Call John B,” she demanded.

“I don’t have my phone.” JJ simply stated. Billie groaned in pain and annoyance, although none of them ever brought their phones to the beach. She knew that.

“Okay. I’ll just walk home.” She braced to stand up again, no matter how light headed she was getting. Pope quickly stepped in and put his hands on her shoulders, keeping Billie seated. She didn’t protest. She put her hands over her face, trying to focus on her breathing while Pope took the towel off of her leg. The bleeding hadn’t gone down at all, and her wound was only getting sandier. Pope replaced the first towel with his own, expertly tying it as a bandage. “Thanks Pope,” She offered.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but we should get you home.” He returned. Pope threw JJ’s bloody towel over his shoulder and picked up her board and his own. That left JJ to help Billie. She had no fight left in her, tears staining her cheeks and blood staining her hands. She put her arms up, allowing him to pick her up. He held her like a little kid, careful not to touch her leg in the wrong spot. They began their trek home. Of course, it was longer than usual because Billie had to go so far down the beach to escape JJ. The same JJ who came running. How could he not love her? It was a silent walk, broken up by Billie’s occasional sniffle. JJ would hold her a little tighter with each one, hating how much pain she was in. It was nothing compared to how tight Billie was holding JJ’s arm, desperate for some relief. She hid her face in the crook of his neck, squeezing her eyes shut and focusing on not throwing up or passing out.

She didn’t lift her head from his shoulder when they walked in the chateau doors. She had completely dissociated by now. Pope swiftly went for the bathroom, where he would dig out the first aid kit. John B and Sarah were on the couch, not paying much attention until they saw the bloody towel hanging around Pope’s neck.

“Uh Pope, whose blood is that?” Sarah shouted, turning around to see Billie and JJ. “Oh my god,” she saw the second blood stained towel around Billie’s leg, and almost punched John B’s arm to get him to look. He stood up right away, assessing his sister’s face for signs of pain. She just looked defeated as she opened her eyes to meet his. He wiped a silent tear off her cheek, and cleared off the counter so JJ could set her down. 

Pope returned with the kit and got right to work. Sarah draped a clean towel around Billie’s shoulders after watching her shiver in the AC, wearing nothing but a bikini. John B hovered behind Pope, watching him unwrap and clean the wound. JJ stood back, arms crossed. He was mad. Mad at himself for letting it get this far. John B handed his sister pain medicine and her water bottle. Before Pope could cover her leg in a clean bandage, Billie wanted to shower. She was still covered in ocean filth and sand, and there was no way she would get in her bed like that. She still couldn’t stand up quite right, so she enlisted Sarah’s help and they headed away to the bathroom.

Pope cleaned up his supplies as the three guys stood around in silence.

“What happened?” John B asked. JJ just stared at the ground, shaking his head.

“She wiped out,” Pope replied. “Must’ve hit a rock or something. By the time we got there she couldn’t even stand.” John B nodded in understanding. He took the two bloody towels and dropped them into the trash, not bothering to try to wash them.

“You should wash up,” John B told JJ, noticing the blood on his stomach and hands and shorts from carrying Billie back. 

“God, I feel like this is all my fault. She only surfs like that when she’s upset about something.” JJ said. John B hands JJ a wet towel and he begins to clean himself off.

“It’s not your fault JJ,” John B told him.

“You’re right,” JJ realized. “It’s not my fault. It’s yours.” John B was taken aback, but he let JJ go on. “You made me do that. I didn’t want to tell her it was a drunk mistake. But you didn’t give me much of a choice!” He was yelling now.

“JJ,” John B tried to cut in.

“No, you didn’t have to watch her run away crying. Now she really believes that I don’t love her and it’s all because of you.”

“She told me about that this morning. I didn’t realize-”

“No, of course you didn’t, you wouldn’t even let me talk!” JJ threw the wet towel into the sink. The shower had turned off by now, and Pope ran off to the bathroom to cover Billie’s leg in gauze now that she was clean and dressed.

“I’m sorry,” is all John B could say, although JJ may not be the one he should apologize to.

“Look, I know you just want to protect her. But so do I, you don’t have to protect her from me.” JJ finished his rant and John B stood there, nodding. He knew he was right. “I’m gonna go talk to her.” 

Billie was sitting on the edge of the bathtub in an old t-shirt and pajama shorts, her leg now wrapped in white bandages. Sarah and Pope must have sensed JJ’s want for privacy, and they filed out.

“Can you…?” Billie pointed to the hairbrush on the kitchen sink, which JJ grabbed and handed to her. She began running it through her tangled hair. JJ crouched down next to her.

“Can we talk?” JJ asked. Billie nodded. It’s not like she could walk away from him if she tried. “What I said at the kegger, it was all true. I meant it all,” he looked up at Billie, waiting for a reaction. She was just waiting for the catch.

“So why’d you take it back?” 

“Your brother,” JJ chuckled. Billie didn’t. “I guess he saw us kiss, he was pretty mad. He basically said I wouldn’t be his friend anymore. I didn’t know what else to do. God, I should have punched him right there.” JJ kept rambling, filling the silence while Billie sat there, taking it in.

“I thought you were gonna be there when I woke up,” is all she could say. JJ’s head fell at this, he felt terrible.

“I know. I’m sorry,” He let his head hang, until Billie reached for his hands. She took them in hers, resting them in her lap.

“So it’s true?”

“Yes, god, it’s true. I love you, Billie.” He squeezed her hands, and she smiled for the first time in a while.

“Say it again,”

“I love you,” with his confirmation, she basically jumped into his arms. He held her tight, deciding John B was a problem for later. He kissed Billie again, no alcohol necessary this time. She came up for air and said,

“I’m gonna kill John B.” JJ could only laugh.

“I’ll help,” he promised.

[beapeas]

Silent Treatment

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Mitchell! Reader

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Ila "Rocky" Mitchell and Bradley were childhood best friends. When Maverick pulled Bradley's papers and messes everything up they go no contact. Until they're on a mission together.

The whole day of training was fucked. Rooster still won’t talk to me and I still can’t figure out why. I thought after all these years apart, he’d get over it. But we’ve been at North Island for a week now, and he won’t even look at me. It’s not ideal in any situation, but his silence is downright dangerous when we’re in the air.

Today’s festivities started when the two of us were up in the air for a training exercise against my dad. I guess Rooster saw Mav coming in behind me and he was unwilling to break his silence, so he tried to handle it himself instead of alerting me. Mav shot both of us down. That’s when I decided, if he didn’t want to talk, then we wouldn’t. I stopped trying to get through to him. I just landed without a word and marched over to Hondo to start my pushups. Bradley followed suit, taking his spot as far away from me as he could get. I stared forward while pushing up and down, waiting for Maverick to march over and give us a lecture. Maverick didn’t come. Instead of the boots I was expecting to see, a pair of dress shoes appeared before my eyes. Cyclone. 

“Lieutenant Mitchell and Lieutenant Bradshaw. My office, now.” Cyclone didn’t wait for a response. He marched away as the two of us hopped up and followed him. He asked us to sit and waited no time. “You two are some of the best pilots this program has seen,” Cyclone started. I resisted feeling proud, because I knew his sentence was only going downhill from there. “But your little spat is about to cost this mission. I will not hesitate to ground you two if this does not end now.” Now I was seething. I had nothing to do with this little spat but there I was, being handed the blame. As curious as I was about Bradley’s reaction, I refused to look at him.

“But Admiral Simpson, I’m trying. Bradshaw refuses to speak to me.” I regretted it almost as soon as I said it. Cyclone shifted his gaze to me and his face hardened.

“I don’t care who’s fault it is, I just need it to end,” he demanded. I stifled a sigh that would surely get me yelled at. “Now, I am going to go eat my lunch. By the time I return, I expect you two to act like the sun shines out the other’s ass and you have a vitamin D deficiency.” With that, he grabbed his lunch and left us in his office, alone.

I sat and stared at my feet. Where to start? Our dads were like brothers, we were natural best friends. Then he graduated high school and completely cut me off. It shattered me. He was my best friend, my first love, even my first kiss. Then he was just gone, without explanation. I guess we start there. We sat in silence for what felt like ages until I finally got sick of it.

“Why did you leave me like that?” My voice came out quieter than I meant it to. I kept looking down, but I could feel his eyes on me.

“You know exactly why,” He retorted. His voice was low and gruff, different than I remember. I’ve spent all week with him and hardly heard his voice.

“I know why you hate my dad. I have no idea why you hate me,” I finally looked up at him. He was dripping in sweat, much like I was after doing our punishment-push ups in the Southern California sun. His brows knit together as he searched my face. The sudden attention made me want to burst into tears. Maybe he’d think it was sweat.

“Mav pulled my papers. You had Mav pull my papers,” he sounded like he was trying to convince himself. My mouth dropped open. Is that really what he thought?

“No I didn’t, why the hell would I do that?” Now I was yelling. Maybe it was a bit dramatic, this all happened years ago. But I spent so long spiraling, racking my brain for a reason that he would just cut me off. Was it really all because he was jumping to conclusions?

“I don’t know, I was angry! Competition?” Now he was yelling too. I took a deep breath and tried to keep myself from seething. For as smart as he was, Bradley could be a huge idiot.

“Bradley,” He flinched at my use of his first name. I guess I’ve only used his callsign or rank here. “When I found out you left that day and blocked me on everything, it destroyed me. I cried to my dad asking what I did to make you leave for a week. Then he told me that he pulled your papers, and it was his fault that you left. We barely spoke until I moved out to the academy and then we didn’t speak at all for months.” I trailed off. Rooster stared at me but I couldn’t meet his eyes. “I was miserable until I met Jake at school and had a friend again. All of that, because you just assumed that it was my fault?” I met Rooster’s gaze, boring holes into his skull.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “I guess so.” He looked away and so did I. 

“Why wouldn’t you just talk to me? We always talked about everything.”

“I don’t know. I had a lot going on. That was the same year my mom died, I was in a weird space. Then my papers were pulled and I knew I was gonna lose Maverick too. I guess I just shut down and shut everyone out. It’s not an excuse, I know. But I’m sorry. Really.”

“I really want to hate you. But it’s been so long, that would just be a waste of my time.” I stood up and reached out my hand. Rooster took it and pulled himself up. I offered him a smile, which he returned. I finally got a chance to laugh at his big dumb mustache. He definitely didn’t have that when he left home.

I opened the door, and together we walked out of Cyclone’s office.

“Is Hangman really your best friend?” Bradley asks. I laughed.

“Yes, and you need to be nice to him.” Now he laughs. I missed this.

[beapeas]

Beapeas Masterlist

Top Gun Maverick:

Silent Treatment - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Outer Banks:

Brother's Best Friend - JJ Maybank

Marvel:

Mission Causualties - Bucky Barnes

Retreat - Bucky Barnes