#‘he got a new ssr to run after his white day ssr for the people who wanted edmond but already had that ssr’

[pwurrz]

me explaining to literally anyone who will listen why kuya and yakumo not getting an event together was actually a good thing in hindsight because now it means quincy and yakumo can have an event together:

[villainessprefect]

title: The Game We're Playing and You're My Target

summary: Idia has three hours to survive at a party. Easier said than done. At least he can hang out in the garden...with Azul? Yeah, Azul is there too.

ship: Idiazul

word count: 2,643

Read on AO3!

Parties are a total war zone. All the extroverts are running around, greeting each other, and participating in mindless mingling. For an introvert, it means avoiding as many people as possible. After you give your forced introduction it's time to make a getaway. There's no time to hang around out in the open and wait for those normies to pounce on a poor soul.

Thankfully, all Idia needs to do is survive for three hours. The counter started the minute he stepped foot onto these overly fancy grounds and he made sure that the second his time was up, he'd disappear. It's not like anyone would miss him anyway. That excuse is easy to use to try and slip away earlier, but he can't after making a promise to Ortho.

"Just for a few hours? Please, Idia?"

When Ortho gave him those pleading eyes, he couldn't say no. And boy does he regret it.

On the bright side, he knows the venue inside and out. When prepping for the big night, Idia made sure to know all the secret getaways, the hidden hallways, the backdoors, any where to get out of the bigger and more populated areas for the night. And that helped with his first hour.

Idia only promised to be at the party, not to socialize.

The voices of people he could care less about were all drowned out by the music blaring through the speakers. Even while out in the gardens, Idia could hear the annoyingly modern music. As much as it wasn't to his tastes, it did provide as nice background noise. Wandering through the garden, he found a nice spot to relax. A secluded area that he doubts anyone would venture out to. It might not be as ideal as finding an empty bedroom to hide in, but it was better than nothing.

As Idia takes a seat on the white marble, golden eyes glance over to the main building. He huffs.

"I don't need to be with those normies," he mutters. "It's not like they need me to be there anyway. My tablet would have just been fine and I could have remained as some mystery character. The top-tier characters get all the attention anyway."

It's easy to imagine Vil stealing the show. An SSR character like him is in his natural habitat in a place like this. Plus he has the beauty to flaunt while being on stage for a crowd. Honestly, the school should have only sent him instead of all the housewardens. But, whatever.

A hand plays with his blue flames. His hair had been put up to look...decent instead of its usual mess. It's fine, he doesn't mind it, but he hated the looks he got on the way here. With his other hand, he whips out his phone. His gaze automatically goes to the time. An hour and a half left. That gives him time to grind before a game resets for the day.

"Agh, I should have just let this run on a script at home..." He murmurs. "Could have gotten some more EXP."

Idia sighs as he finishes the usual tasks. He could do more but it's monotonous and repetitive if he isn't doing something else. And the only other thing option is going back inside while letting this run. Yeah, no. Not doing that. It doesn't help that it barely ate a few minutes off the clock.

"My, my, I should have known I'd find you out here."

"Eep!"

Idia is quick to jump to his feet. Hands gripping his phone for dear life as he steps away from the source of the new voice.

"Azul?" He relaxes once their eyes meet. "I didn't know you could jump-scare someone. What are you doing out here?"

"Enjoying the scenery." Idia scoffs. "What? Don't believe me?" Azul says with an obviously feigned sad expression. "Even I have to escape from the scene every now and then."

"You? Make an escape? The only reason you'd get away is if you were losing at your own game."

"You wound me, to think I'd ever let that happen."

Idia hates that he has to agree with him on that. Azul knows people, knows what they want, and knows how to get what he wants from them. As far as he's aware, Azul has never failed in making a deal. His completionist stats were always 100%.

"There's a first for everything..." Idia mumbles as he returns to his seat. Not even this interaction took up a few minutes. When had time ever been this slow? Not even his MMO updates were this painstakingly long.

Idia doesn't think to give Azul any more attention, not until he hears the other's footsteps. Heels click against the tiles leading toward him. He sighs and looks up.

"Your brother would be disappointed seeing you out here."

"Erk!" Idia winces. That was a critical hit! "Y-Yeah..." He gulps. "W-What are you going to do? Tattle on me like some middle schooler?"

"I'm not that petty. Of course, I'd only resort to it if necessary."

Idia frowns, not liking the sound of that.

"How about this? Offer me your time out here and I'll remain silent about your failure to your brother's expectations."

"I think even he has low expectations for me..." Idia says. He knows otherwise. Ortho would be cheering him on every step of the way. But being in there? With so many people? No no no no. He needed to take baby steps first. Get comfortable at housewarden meetings, maybe go to a school event without needing to run off. Being thrown into a party was just like sending a level 1 newbie into the final boss's lair. "Do what you want."

"I'll take that as a yes."

With that, Azul takes a seat beside Idia. He sits close enough that their legs nearly touch, leaving only a small space between them. Neither seems to mind, both are comfortable with each other to be this close. Idia fiddles with his phone, trying to be preoccupied with something to make the time tick by faster. If only downloading a new game wouldn't take so long then he could at least have something to do. He's close to resorting to doing a ten-pull on his previous game out of pure boredom. He doesn't even like the current character's banner, but he wants something to do.

"If you're that bored, you know we could always do something while we're out here."

Idia hates how Azul picks up on his habits. Perhaps he'd been too obvious by swiping back and forth on his phone, or he just knows how he is. How long have they known each other? And how long have they been hanging out outside of class and club activities? It's hard to say.

"Like what? Touch grass?"

"While I think that is something you should do," Azul pauses as he gets to his feet. "Perhaps a walk would be better? That wouldn't hurt."

Idia is about to decline but sighs. He feels like he's lost this game before he's even started it. No excuse could get him out of it. So, he silently puts his phone away and stands.

He lets Azul lead the way. Idia keeps his head down, hands in his pockets. Despite the formal attitude needed for a party like this, he doesn't feel as tense as he should. If he were inside, alone, and surrounded by too many normies, he'd be having a heart attack. But out here? Being with Azul and the comfort of the cool air, and silent winds. It's comforting. He's not alone as he would like, but he feels at ease with Azul.

They pass by a small pond, one decorated with intricate statues. It reminds Idia of a game, a save point area specifically. The music was really pleasant, a gentle piano tune drifting through the air. It brought a sense of comfort after a long and hard fight. He remembers searching for the song immediately and putting it in a playlist for a later day.

"You're smiling," Azul points out.

"Eh? N-No I'm not!" Idia is quick to cover his mouth with his hand and turn away from him. Azul chuckles.

In an attempt to gain some distance between him while getting rid of his little embarrassment, he makes one mistake. A misstep. He hadn't calculated the difference in height between the pond's outer marble layer and the grass, thus leading to his ultimate downfall. He feels his body begin to fall, gravity pulling him down to meet his demise. If this is how he's supposed to go out, then it's a pretty lame way to go. A tragic and uncool death by falling into a shallow pool of water and hitting his head while all dressed up.

Didn't this happen in a game once? Would Azul be suspected of murder? Why couldn't he have just stayed home tonight? Is Vil singing that one song he did at the SDC right now? Why does he know that song? Were Azul's eyes always so pretty?

Whoever said your life flashes before your eyes before you die is a liar because his mind is running a mile a minute about everything else. Then again, he isn't dying. Or falling.

Something, or rather, someone, had stopped his ungraceful death. A hand grips his with all its might and then yanks him forward. It's so sudden that his mind goes blank. Especially as his body collides with Azul's.

"Idia," Azul breathes. His pretty ocean-like eyes were on him. "You should be more careful where you step."

Idia gulps, unable to speak. His heart racing from his (not) near-death experience and being so, so close to Azul. Their bodies are still pressing against each other, their noses only inches apart, hands still clinging to each other.

What kind of flag did he just raise? More importantly, how did he end up in a route like this?!

"Are you okay?" Azul asks, tone softer than earlier, gaze too.

"Y-Yeah!" Idia squeaks out, finally finding his voice. His hair flicks wildly, flashing pink at the tips. He unintentionally squeezes Azul's hand for support. He tries to find his footing now that he's processing everything and finds Azul's other hand placed carefully against his back, keeping him in place.

"Trying to escape me now?" Azul hums with a teasing look. That soft and trustworthy look is gone. Maybe he was imagining things- did Azul really look concerned about him earlier? "After I just saved your life too?"

"Th-That's the worst outcome. If anything, I just ruin my outfit and have to leave earlier than I'm supposed to."

"Oh? Perhaps I should allow you to test your fate then." To tease him, Azul tips Idia back. His hold is firm, but Idia can't tell if he's being serious or not. In a panic, Idia lets go of his hand and wraps his arms around Azul, clinging onto him for dear life. Even if he would like to go home early, it wasn't worth looking like a wet mess in front of Azul.

"D-Don't!" He yelps. Idia glances back to the water to make sure their distance remains the same. When he's certain that Azul isn't going to throw him back, he lets out a sigh. And then it hits him.

Idia is practically embracing Azul. While his arms remain around the other boy, he pulls back enough to catch Azul with pink cheeks.

"You're so bold, Idia," he says. He's trying to sound confident, but his tone lacks the same finesse it usually carries.

"I-It's not like..." Idia bites down on his lip. Azul's grip has loosened and he can escape from him if he wishes. But he doesn't.

"I don't mind this," Azul breathes.

"Huh."

"This. Being here with you." Azul mumbles and boldly press forward, destroying the little space between them. "Perhaps you enjoy it too? That's why you don't mind me out here. Or being in my arms."

Idia fumbles for an excuse. His mind tries to think of something, but this sudden event is leaving him with nothing to work with. There was no filled heart gauges in his vision or options that clearly led him down this route. But now he's here. And instead of being the protagonist, he feels like he's the capture target. Literally.

All he knows is their lips are about to meet. He can feel Azul's breath against his skin. Smell that sweet lavender that has a hint of the ocean he comes from. At this close, he can really see how his eyes sparkle like the waves of the ocean, the moonlight making them shimmer at just the right angle.

"I-If this continues...I-I'm going to ruin this night for you," Idia mumbles just before their lips can meet. His hands grip tightly onto Azul, fingers digging so deep into his blazer that it might just rip. Azul's hesitation upon hearing him speak is enough to let Idia turn his head to the side. Pink flames end up grazing his lips instead. "Y-You don't want that."

Azul huffs and pouts. He's upset by the sound of it. What did he do to upset him?!

"And what do you know about what I want, hm?" Azul raises a hand to grip Idia's chin, making the other boy face him. Tears prick at the edges of those beautiful golden eyes. As embarrassed as he may be, those tears don't help his situation, if anything it's a pathetic sight that Azul loves dearly.

He grins, proud, and then presses his lips against his cheek.

"The only thing you can ruin is the win streak I have against you," Azul whispers into his ear. He feels the other shudder and clings onto him with a little whimper.

"Azul..." Idia feels weak in his hold. Hot, bothered. His body might just overheat at this rate. It makes him feel like he should do something, reciprocate, at the very least. But no matter how many times he clicks on the action icon, his body doesn't move.

And then his phone explodes with an obnoxiously loud song.

With some amazing force, Idia manages to free himself from Azul. His time here was up and he didn't need to be in this final boss round any longer. Idia doesn't even mumble an apology as he makes his escape. All he wants to do is get out of here and set his thoughts straight.

Azul sighs and puts a hand on his head, rubbing it. He knew 'conquering' Idia, as he would have put it, wouldn't be easy. But tonight was a perfect chance to try. He even factored in a time limit, which is why he excused himself fairly early from the party. The only thing he didn't factor in was Idia having an alarm for his departure.

It's even worse that he can still hear the tune. He wishes that he could silence it forever, and ban that single song from all of Octavinelle while he's at it.

A light on the ground catches his attention. The source of the music comes from it as well. Azul bends down to pick up Idia's phone. With a press of a button, the garden falls silent. As he sees his own reflection against the phone's screen, he chuckles.

"There's a tale just like this, isn't there? A princess running away from a prince yet leaving behind something important." Azul hums as he pockets the phone. He's certain that Idia will figure out it's missing sooner or later and this is a piece of technology that he needs. Azul knows Idia. He knows the other will try to hide from him, but with this little bargaining chip, perhaps they'll run into each other sooner rather than later.

[lokis-army-77]

If You Please

Chapter Fourteen

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4440

This is technically a reader insert but without the (y/n) and all that. She also has no name mentioned so feel free to imagine as you please.

Follow the reader through the events of the Captain America movies and experience her love for Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: canon typical violence

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Masterlist

We escaped quickly and descended down into the dark, damp sewer system of D.C. until we came to a steel ladder directly in the middle of our path several minutes later. Maria climbed up first, to make sure the coast was clear then she signaled for us to follow. There was an SUV waiting for us a few paces away from where we had emerged. I slowly trailed behind the others and into one of the back seats. The drive to the base, which seemed to be a rundown dam in the middle of the woods, took us almost half an hour.

After getting out the van we rushed in through a singular gated door at the base of the dam. Nat was still losing blood but the first aid kit in the van helped slow it down. As we walked down the dimly lit hall I spotted a man running towards us.

“GSW,” Maria shouted out to the man. “She’s lost almost a pint of blood.”

“Let me take her,” the man shouted back, still jogging to us.

“She’ll want to see him first,” she said before we reached a set of double doors and hurried through them. Maria led us down a long corridor which opened up to a large room with a section closed off with plastic strip curtains. She reached out and pulled part of the curtain back to let us see inside. There lying down in a hospital bed was Nick Fury, who was supposed to be dead.

“Well, it’s about damn time.” Fury stated in a sarcastic tone. I looked to Steve, Who was holding Nat up, and gave him a quizzical look, which he returned with his own shake of the head.

After the initial shock of seeing Fury alive, Nat was sat down by the doctor who was trying to stop her arm from bleeding. In the meanwhile, Fury was explaining to the group how he was able to fake his death and why he was hunkering out in a dam. This plan also helped him to know which people he could have some trust in, seeing as how SHIELD was now compromised and there was no telling how far the clutches of HYDRA had gotten. Now that people thought he was dead, it would come as a surprise when he inevitably resurfaced.

When Nat’s stitches were done we headed to a table on the other side of the room which had several files and computers scattered about. I took a seat on the far end and put my head in my hands. I could feel a massive headache coming on, which was uncommon for me since I took the serum. It felt like white-hot knives were digging through the back of my skull and into the spot right between my eyes. It was so bad that I completely missed the whole conversation the group was having. I eventually laid my head down in my crossed arms to try and combat it, but the pain never subsided.

A hand came down on my shoulder, startling me out of my painful daze, it was Steve. I saw his mouth move but couldn’t hear anything but the loud ringing in my ears. I just looked at him confused. He tried saying something again but I still couldn't hear him.

“Stevie, I can’t hear anything over this loud ringing in my ears,” I whispered, I knew if I talked loudly the vibrations of my voice would hurt. He gave me a nod and held up his finger, telling me to wait as he walked away. The doctor from before came back with him and sat in front of me. The doctor motioned his hand like it was talking and I knew he wanted me to tell him what was going on, so I did. When I was done, he took a small flashlight out from his pocket and shined it in my eyes. He turned to Steve and said something then turned to me and grabbed hold of my hand.

Both the doctor and Steve led me to a second hospital bed, which was a couple feet away from where Fury had been and made me lay down. As I got situated under the covers, Steve tapped my hand a few times to get my attention and when he got it, he started to tap again. Morse code, he had made me learn it as kids, that way mom could never hear our secret conversations, it even came in handy when I joined the SSR. I watched closely as he tapped out a series of long and short patterns. He was telling me the doctor was going to give me something to help me sleep and that I would be okay. I nodded and tapped back a thank you before the Doctor came back and inserted a syringe into my arm, seconds later I could feel myself drifting away.

I woke up hours later without the searing pain of a headache and my hearing fully intact. I flipped the covers away from myself and turned to let my legs drape off the side of the bed. I hulled myself onto my feet and began to make my way to the table the group was setting at yesterday. Sam was there drinking coffee and talking to Nat, and from what I could tell, it must have been early morning.

“Good morning sleepy head.” Sam sang out. I gave him a small smile as I took the seat to his right, across from Nat. “How ya feeling?”

“Eh. I’m not in physical pain anymore if that’s what you’re asking.” I looked down at my hands and eyed the ring I had been wearing since a few days ago. It glimmered in the light as I took it off and placed it on the table. I then took my locket necklace off and slipped the ring onto the chain. I was lucky I hadn't lost it yesterday, but I wasn’t thinking I would be going into a fight. Now that I knew more fighting was to come, it would be safer around my neck.

“Is that your engagement ring?” Sam asked quietly.

“Yeah. It was Bucky’s mother, Winnifred. He originally proposed with this locket, but a few months later, after talking to her and begging her to keep it a secret from Steve, she finally gave it to him.” I smiled at the memory.

“Wait, I thought Steve knew.”

“He does now. I kind of blurted it out when he tried to stop me from going with him to rescue the 107th from the HYDRA base in 1943, but we got engaged in ‘41.” I took a long pause before talking again. “You know it feels like just yesterday when I lost him, like the pain from him being gone still hurts, but I’ve learned to cope with it over the past two years. Now I have to find out that he is alive, but not himself because he's being used as a mercenary by HYDRA. He looked at me after you knocked him down and that look broke my heart. It wasn’t the look of a man wanting to kill, it was of someone who was scared, someone who had no clue what was going on. He’s still in there, I know he is and I’m going to be the one to bring him back.” I jammed a finger down on the table to make my point.

“Are you sure he’s really still in there? He’s been in and out of cryo hundreds of times throughout the last 70 years, no to mention, he’s probably endured countless hours of brain wiping and torture from HYDRA.” Nat said in a concerned but doubtful tone.

“I didn’t lose hope when he might have been dead in the forties, I won't lose hope in him now. I’ll find a way to bring him back to me.” That was when Steve came through the double doors and into the room wearing his old suit. “Steve, where in the world did you get that?”

“I borrowed it from the Smithsonian. Here, I found your office. Thought you might want it.” He tossed a bag at me and I caught it, slowly opening it to reveal my old suit. “I still have no clue why you keep it in there and not on display with everything else.”

“Thanks, that was very thoughtful of you.”

“Don’t be sarcastic. You’re gonna want it when we go to take out the helicarriers.” He looked at me then to the other two, “Come on suit up, we don't have much time before they launch,” he looked back at me, “I’ll fill you in on the plan after you get dressed. Oh and Maria has your staff, and new guns for you.”

It was almost noon now and Steve, Sam, Maria, and I were quickly ascending the back stairs of the SHIELD base. We made it to the thirty-second floor in no time, only for the door to be locked. We all held our guns up to the door as Maria sent out some radio interference so one of the people in the room would come to check on the dish that was outside. When the door opened the man was surprised and instantly let us through

Steve came to a stop at the PA system and turned it on. “Attention all SHIELD agents, this is Steve Rogers. You've heard a lot about me over the last few days. Some of you were even ordered to hunt me down. But I think it's time, to tell the truth. SHIELD is not what we thought it was. It's been taken over by HYDRA. Alexander Pierce is their leader. The STRIKE and Insight crew are HYDRA as well. I don't know how many more, but I know they're in the building. They could be standing right next to you. They almost have what they want. Absolute control. They shot Nick Fury. And it won't end there. If you launch those helicarriers today, HYDRA will be able to kill anyone that stands in their way. Unless we stop them. I know I'm asking a lot. But the price of freedom is high. It always has been. And it's a price I'm willing to pay. And if I'm the only one, then so be it. But I'm willing to bet I'm not.”

“Always been one for speech haven't you Stevie?” I joked.

“Shut up kid, let's get going.” he shook his head, bemused.

“He totally came up with that on the spot didn’t he?” Sam asked.

“Definitely,” I replied.

We left Maria in the PA room where she would be able to monitor the status of the helicarriers as we tried to take them offline. Making our way down to the docking bay I looked out one of the windows next to where we were running.

“Steve, we need to hurry, the bay doors are opening,” I called out.

“Only a few more floors, we can make it.” After he said that, we started running faster, almost leaving Sam behind.

Finally, we pushed through one of the lower roof doors. I started to sprint toward the edge and before I jumped off, Sam grabbed my outstretched arm and started to fly. He maneuvered us to the far-right helicarrier and then let go of me. I plummeted to the deck and as I made contact with the ground I immediately threw myself into a tumble so I didn’t get hurt. As I sprang to my feet I was met with an onslaught of bullets. Ducking to dodge them I ran off to the side where a stack of crates was lying. I fished one of the guns from the hustler and cocked a bullet into the chamber. Taking a deep breath I stepped out from my cover and shot back at the men.

Two of the seven went down as a bullet went through each of their chests. I went to shoot again but a hand came out from behind me and yanked my right arm down. They tightly brought my arm to my back and grabbed my gun with the other hand. With my free left arm, I swung it back and clipped the person in the chin hard with my elbow. The grip they had on my right arm fell away as they fell to the ground. I turned around and quickly grabbed my gun from his hand and resumed shooting at the others.

I reached to the back of my holster where I had clipped two grenades before we had left the hideout. Pulling the pin and letting go of the trigger, I threw it at the men, who were immediately taken out with the blast.

“Hey kid you good?” I heard Steve's voice come through the comlink.

“Good as I can be. The deck is all clear, where are you?”

“Sam and I are inbound.” as he said that Sam shot up from below the carrier with Steve holding onto his hands. They landed a few feet in front of me and I jogged to catch up to them. “Wow, you took them all out really fast.”

I just smiled and held up the second grenade, “Work smarter not harder. Come on let's hurry up, the fact there weren't that many people on here is making me suspicious.” As soon as I said that we walked past one of the crates and Steve was pushed over the edge of the carrier by Bucky. “Steve!” Sam and I yelled simultaneously.

Sam jumped into action, trying to take off to save Steve from falling to his death, but Bucky grabbed one of the wings of his suit and flung him back. “Go put the chip in, I'll take care of this.” He yelled out to me.

I turned and sprinted to one of the doors that led into the carrier and I was met with two corridors. After looking down at each of them I decided on taking the right one. Reaching the end I heard a soft noise around the corner, I peaked around slowly and saw a man carrying an assault rifle. He was close enough for me to run up on him without him being able to get a good shot in with a gun. So that’s what I did. I ran at an angle from the corner and used my left leg to push myself off the ground and then my right to push off the wall and kick the man directly in the side of the head. He fell to the ground, completely unconscious. Not turning back I continued down the hall until I came to the stairs that would take me down to the systems room.

“Are you both okay?” Sam cut through on the coms.

“Yeah, I'm still on the helicarrier.” came Steve.

“Me too, I’m almost in the systems room. Where are you?”

“I'm grounded, the wings are busted.”

I exited the staircase and walked to the middle of the systems room. The opening to the targeting system was on the other side of the large cylindrical computer that took up the whole center of the room. I made my way around but stopped short when I saw him standing there, glaring.

“Bucky,” I held my hands up and took my finger off the trigger of my gun to show him I wasn’t going to do anything. “Bucky, I know you’re in there somewhere.” He just kept staring blankly. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will in order to get this chip where it needs to be.” I took a slow step in his direction, but in an instant, he pulled his gun and shot mine out of my hand, and started to stalk towards me. I reached over my shoulders to grab the two separated staff pieces from their holsters as I moved backward. Bucky stopped walking and just started some more before he came at me full force. I quickly stepped up onto the railing and did a flip over him, landing behind him. Before he turned around I slipped the piece of the staff in my right hand around his neck and latched on with my left, forcing him to stumble back. This didn’t hold him long because he grabbed the bar and forcefully twisted it over his head, thus breaking my grip. I stumbled a few feet ahead, almost barely missing the punch that he threw. That was when I noticed Steve had made it into the room.

“Steve, a little help here would be great,” I said as I started to run back to Bucky who had turned around to face Steve. I jumped up doing a backflip kick, using Bucky’s back as a kicking-off point and landed back on my feet as Bucky slammed into the railing. Hoping he would stay preoccupied with Steve, I hurriedly ran to the system console and opened the chip holder. I took out one of the chips and placed it off to the side before reaching into my pocket for the new chip. I had almost put it in the open slot before I was knocked off my feet and the chip flew from my hand and over the banister. I turned over off of my stomach just in time to see Steve and Bucky also fall over the banister. I scrambled to the edge to see what was going on as I called out, “Steve the chip fell over.”

“I got it, stay there.” He yelled back before Bucky sent him flying. I watched as he grabbed the chip but it was dropped further down as Bucky came at Steve again. I took my second gun out and started to shoot near Bucky’s legs, in order to try and veer him off course without hurting him. Steve reached the glass bottom of the room and started sprinting to the chip which was nestled in between the glass and a metal beam. I stopped shooting as it became harder to get a clear target without also shooting Steve.

They were fighting now, hand to hand, Bucky had knocked Steve’s shield away and he pulled his knife out in the process. He stabbed Steve in the shoulder, when he fell to the ground Bucky dove for the chip. Steve wasn't far behind him, He latched onto Bucky, choking him then throwing him to the ground.

“Steve, don't hurt him,” I cried out as I watched them struggle on the ground, my hands went straight to my mouth as I heard the loud sound of bone breaking and Bucky’s scream right after. He tried rolling over but that gave Steve an opening to put him in a chokehold. “Steve stop, that's enough, you’re hurting him,” I yelled out in despair as I watched bucky struggle to stay conscious, I couldn't watch it anymore, I turned away. Seconds later Steve yelled my name. I hesitantly looked back over the railing, Bucky was lying unconscious and Steve was jumping up onto the landing under me.

“Here”, he tossed the chip up to me and I caught it. Suddenly a gunshot rang out and I looked to where Bucky was once laying, he was standing now, gun raised.

“Thirty seconds” Maria’s voice came over the com.

“I've got it,” I spoke back, making my way to the control board.

Another shot rang out, this time I heard the impact right behind me before a pain erupted on my side. I turned to see Steve laid out on the ground clutching his stomach, the bullet must have gone straight through him to me.

“Guys, they're going online right now, hurry!” Maria almost yelled into the com. I turned back around, holding my side and took the last few steps up to the console, and securely placed the chip in the open space.

“Charlie lock,” I huffed out, confirming to Maria that I had successfully put the chip in, as I slid to my knees.

“Okay, both of you get out of there.”

“No fire now,” Steve yelled.

“But Steve,” Maria said almost reluctantly.

“Just do it,” he yelled again.

The helicarrier jerked seconds later after being hit with the rockets. I slammed into the railing and was flung over, landing ungracefully in a heap on the glass floor. I could hear shouts of pain echoing, looking around I spotted Bucky stuck under a massive metal beam. Steve apparently had to because he was climbing down to him. He got to him quickly and started to lift the heavy thing off of him. Bucky wiggled out from under the beam and knelt there for a second before Steve said something to him that I couldn't hear, he reared back and swung a punch at him after that. I stood to my feet and slowly made my way to them, stopping multiple times to steady myself as the carrier trembled violently. I reached them just as a large metal cylinder fell into the glass floor, making it give way. I fell through the broken glass and into the cold water of the Potomac River.

I swam weakly to the surface. Once my head came out of the water I took a deep breath in and made my way to the rocky shore, careful to not be hit by any debris. The shore was farther away than I had anticipated and I was almost completely out of breath as I crawled my way out of the water. Laying on my back I looked and the smoke filled the sky.

‘So much for laying low,' I thought to myself. I was broken from my thoughts as a few yards down the shoreline Bucky came out of the water dragging Steve with him. He looked back at me as he dropped Steve to the ground but then turned to walk away. I got up quickly and ran to Steve, making sure he was okay. I took out the tracker Maria had given each of us in case anything happened and set it off. They would come find him now, I gave him a short kiss on the forehead. “Goodbye Stevie, I'll see you again some time,” I whispered to him before taking off my tracker and throwing it into the water.

I started walking in the direction Bucky had gone, He couldn't have gotten far with that broken arm and I was right. I found him slowly making his way through the woods. I stayed away from him, but he never left my sight. I knew he realized I had followed him when he tried to slip away behind a group of dense trees but was unsuccessful. He tried this a few more times before giving up and acknowledging that I wasn’t going anywhere. Finally, we broke out into part of the city, but we kept a low profile, or as low of one as two people in fighting suits and a man with a metal arm could. I kept inching closer to him as we walked and twenty minutes in I was almost next to him.

“Quit following me” He let out gruffly without looking back at me.

“No,” I argued.

“Quit following me, now,” He said a little more agitatedly.

“No, I won’t. I’m not leaving you alone and hurting Bucky. I love you, I can't leave you again.” That made him stop in his tracks and eye me down.

“Don’t know who you are.” his voice sounded uncertain.

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.

“I have proof that you do.” I yanked the necklace with the ring and locket over my head and marched to him, holding it out. He took it hesitantly and looked at the ring first then opening the locket he just stared at the picture of the both of us together. I saw something flicker in his eyes before he gave the necklace back, it almost looked like he remembered something. He started back walking but didn’t say a word when I kept following, just let out a long huff.

It took us an hour to reach Ronald Reagan Airport, and I finally understood what his plan was. “So your plan is to hijack a plane?”

“You aren’t coming.”

“I don’t know why you want to argue with me, I’m coming with you.” He gave me another glare after that.

We were walking through the small wooded area across the road from the runway when suddenly Bucky stopped. There was a small metal sign secured to one of the trees to the right, in big bold letters it said ‘NO TRESPASSING’. Bucky pulled on it and it opened like a small door into the tree where a keypad was nestled. He typed in a series of numbers and a few seconds later the ground started to move several right next to us. I jerked my head in the direction of the commotion only to see the ground opening up to a narrow staircase that descended into the earth. Bucky then closed the sign and started down the stairs, I followed suit.

It became darker the further we descended, the sounds of cars faded into the steady dripping of water. By this time I was thinking to myself that we weren't hijacking a plane, but I was proved wrong as the stairs leveled out to flat ground and Bucky turned the hanger lights on. There in the middle of the room was a black jet with a red HYDRA symbol on its side.

Looking around the room there were papers strewn about, dust even covered some of the desks along the walls. The place looked like it hadn't been used in years. To my left, I spotted Bucky grabbing all sorts of weapons from a rack on the wall and shoving them in a tattered duffel bag before zipping it up and heading to the jet. I trailed behind him.

He raised his hand up and pressed on part of the back flap to the jet, a small handle shot out and he pulled on it, which opened the back hatch of the jet. When it settled on the ground Bucky and I climbed up the ramp and into the cabin. Bucky tossed the duffel bag onto one of the benches and headed for the cockpit. He hit several buttons and switches before sitting down in the pilot's seat.

“Where are we going?” I asked softly as I sat myself down in the copilot’s seat.

“Romania.”

Tag List: @ginger-swag-rapunzel @underc0vercryptid-reads @geek-and-proud @intothesoul @leyannrae @starkleila @andy-is-gay

[captainjimothycarter]

So it's a silly image but I like to imagine Steve realizing that Peggy was responsible for what's now one of New Yorks first gay bars, but back until the 90s it was an underground secret no one knew about. "Everyone needs a place to be themselves."

i don’t think this was silly at all. I love the HC so much and I hope I did it honor. Thank you for sharing it with me.

--

“What’s this?” Steve asked the second Natasha flung an old file down on top of his sketchbook. His nose wrinkled from the dust, fingers brushing over the frayed edges. This thing had to be decades old, but the same could apparently be said for him in this new century.

It was an old, unmarked file with the edges starting to yellow and fray. He was afraid if he picked it up by the edges or flicked it open, the thing would crumble apart in his hands. There wasn’t one single, distinguishing mark on this thing. It was odd, considering most of the files that Natasha had tossed his way recently were marked with some sort of SHIELD symbol or even the SSR. This one was null.

“What do you think it is?” Natasha huffed, sitting herself down across the table from him. She nearly blended into the gray walls with her outfit, the only part of her that stood out, as always was the bright, red hair. Her voice was kept down low, not in a this is a shared secret sort of way, but more of we’re in public and in a library so don’t you dare we loud.

Even if this was SHIELD’S library.

“I don’t know. Looks like a file.” 

Steve couldn’t help but roll his eyes, dropping it down so it laid on top of the book he was reading. Natasha complained he spent far too much time in the library but given the circumstances of waking up in some new century where everyone you knew was dead (including the love of your life), then you sort of became a shell of yourself and hid away in Shield’s library. One, to read all you can about missed events, and two, to hide away and distract yourself with the knowledge of the fact that you had to play catch-up of the last 60-something years.

“Just open it, Steve. I think you’ll find the contents interesting.”

His mouth opened but what could he say? Argue? Insist? Nothing. There would be nothing that he could say that would get Natasha to take this file away because she knew she’d won. She had plopped it in front of him, an unmarked file, and sat down and at him expectedly. Curiosity would get the better of him, even if Steve didn’t want to admit it. 

Natasha’s eyebrow rose in a manner that reminded Steve of his mother, that insistingly asked him if he was really done with telling the whole story. Instead, she silently waited, arms crossed over her chest.

Steve reserved his sigh for another day when she might care more about his wants and just did the quickest thing that would get her to leave him alone. He opened the damn file and immediately wished he didn’t.

Front face and center was the love of his life. Or well, there was a photo of her. Actually, there were several photos of her. Photos that he wasn’t even aware that existed. Peggy must’ve been shortly after the war, standing next to who could’ve only been Angie. She was smilingly brightly despite the shiner and he could hear her laughter echoing in his head, see the red lips despite the black and white photo. They stood with a group of people he didn’t recognize either. People that she looked friendly or even close to given how one guy was holding onto her waist. 

Steve wasn’t jealous, not by much. Maybe a small flicker of jealousy flared to life inside of him, but it instantly cooled down when he made the connection. Or, one connection. Just hidden between them, he could see the guy holding her waist was also holding hands with a gentleman that was smiling brightly at the camera. 

Oh. 

It reminded him of the gay clubs he and Bucky would risk visiting when Steve was in the better days of his illnesses when there wasn’t a risk of them being seen and ratted out by neighbors or when he wouldn’t risk coughing up a blood-clotted lung.

Sadly, there was nothing on the other side of the photo. Not that Steve expected much, Peggy had her manner of keeping things organized, and being a spy meant you left little untraced. So why she allowed herself to be photographed was beyond him.

No answer came with the next photo.

Even if in this one, he could make out the bruise under the makeup she tried to hide it with. He could see her eyes crinkling in the corners when she laughed and smiled at the camera. Her red lips instantly claiming his attention. Despite the crowd of men around her, some familiar to the old photo and some new, Steve didn’t look at them. He looked at her eyes, the warm, honey-coated eyes that were a sign to him that screamed welcomed home.

Natasha wouldn’t give these to him to stare at the photos of his beloved, she wanted him to see something, but what?

There were still men and women around her, some dressed in stylish outfits, some with funky-looking ones. Angie was still beside her and despite the closeness of the pair, one man each hung from their shoulders. The same two men who held hands in the photo before. They stood in front of a brick wall, one that looked familiar to him, but why?

It was an itch in the back of his mind that he couldn’t quite scratch.

There were more people in the next photo, more than enough to sit two photos side by side so he could cram them together to see the full photo. Still, nothing. Still, Peggy and Angie and a group of people. Men holding hands, a little braver to be outside the frame of the two women. And still that same brick wall, but why was that brick wall familiar? Why did that little notch right above Angie’s left ear hit him like, well, a stack of bricks?

And why did the next few photos, each following more, and more people, until Peggy stood by herself in front of the building, silver in her hair, a wedding band on her fingers, but pride radiating in those fierce eyes, frustrate him more?

Steve just wanted to slam these photos down and take a walk, take a breather. He doubts Natasha did this to be cruel, to throw his reminder that he had loved and lost into his face. He did that enough to himself.

Sighing, Steve ran a hand over his hair and dropped his hand beside the last photo of Peggy. Older. Shortly before she died of old age. Silver in her hair, wrinkles on her face but a fierce, determined look. 

It hit him then, why those bricks frustrated him so much, why that notch in the brick made his heart drop.

That very notch was made from Bucky using a slingshot to scare off the bees because they terrified his baby sister. 

Those red bricks belonged to the apartments that he and Bucky grew up in.

There was more in the file but Steve didn’t want to look. He wanted to shut the damn thing and turn away. Instead, he swallowed and picked up a newspaper article from the 1990s. Peggy was on the cover, holding onto a cane, looking dead in the cameras as if she was daring a soul to challenge her.

Peggy Carter: Fighting the Unseen Fight is what the title read.

“It was a gay bar,” Natasha murmured, drawing Steve from his thoughts. She must’ve seen how his hand was shaking around the article. “Peggy Carter assisted in running a few underground gay bars in New York, up until the 1990s where...the one she is standing in front of is one of the first public gay bars to open.”

“I…” Steve swallowed, his throat feeling dry. It felt like he took in a mouthful of dust. “I don’t know...why?”

“I think you know why,” she mused, giving him an almost loving look. “Because she wanted to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. I wonder where she got that from?”

“She’s always had that,” Steve snorted, forcing himself to let go of the files. “Always fiercely protective of her loved ones. I had nothing to do with it.”

“Yes, but you stirred the fires inside of her. She might not have done it because of you, but she did it in your name.”

Tapping the newspaper, the woman sat back and Steve sighed as he looked back down at it. He forced himself to read the last few questions and answers.

Why did you do it?

“Everyone needs a place to be themselves. If no one else was to protect the innocent, then I had to step up to the plate to do so. I’m only lucky that some of my connections had agreed to protect us when things got bad. During the movement, we became safe houses and safe havens for those who needed protection. Not once do I regret my actions.”

Why here? Why open the first gay bar here?

“I…could think of no place better. Steven Grant Rogers was an inspiration to me, the driving force as to how I actually met my wife. During the war, we’ve seen men, great men being sent back home for being in love with people of the same sex. I’ve seen Captain Rogers step up to the plate to put a stop to it, to take falls for kissing men and women when all of us knew that he was far from the situation at the time given the nature of the job. I’ve seen him lie straight to people’s faces, no matter their position in the government or war to keep our men’s feet on the ground. I’ve seen him harbor his best friend’s secrets until the day they both died. I protected those men and women before I met Captain Rogers again and even after he died, but Steven...gave me the courage to do more.”

“I…” Steve, this time had to open and close his mouth, to force his brain to think. “I don’t know what to say..”

“Don’t then,” Natasha breathed, reaching over to take Steve’s hand and give a gentle squeeze. “She knew you were bisexual before you even knew.”

“I think that can be said about a lot of things.”

Natasha’s lips twitched into a small smile before it disappeared. “Would you like to see the bar? It’s still functional to this day. I think it’s written into some post SSR, pre-SHIELD clause that it has to be protected and kept open. It’s still in the same spot.”

Sitting back, the blonde let out a long sigh and picked up his jacket. He might as well, he was getting nothing else done today. Not when his mind was on Peggy, on everything she’s done. “Sure. Just...what is it called?”

Natasha paused, leading them out of the empty library. Her head craned over her shoulder to watch Steve carefully tuck the file inside of his coat and follow after her. “Captain’s Commandos.” 

[arrow-guy]

Out of Time (1/??)

Synopsis: Asta is a woman out of time. She’s strong, and damn near indestructible, but when she wakes up hundreds of years in the future, she’s completely lost. She finds a new family in Peggy Carter and friends in people that she never would have dreamed of. But not everyone gets what they want, right?

A/N: Alright, I’m not really one to write OC content, but I couldn’t resist with this story. It’s a huge project that’s going to cover a lot of ground, but I hope it’ll be as fun to read as it has been to write. If you’d like, I’ve put together a Spotify playlist for this fic and you’re more than welcome to listen along!

Pairing: Jack ThompsonxOFC (Steve RogersxOFC endgame)

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: Canon typical violence

Playlist

Page dividers by @carryonmyswansong

“This all must be quite shocking for you.”

“I am not sure that’s the phrasing I would use.”

“Then how would you describe it?” The woman tilted her head to the side.

“I…” I sighed. “It’s disorienting. If I truly have been asleep for more than three hundred years, then there is so much that I’ve missed.”

“Your family?”

“No,” I shook my head. “I’ve lost so much time. There’s so much history that I missed. I have very little idea where I am, let alone how this new world works.”

She hummed. “I understand.”

“I’m not sure that you do.” I gestured to the small room. “All of this is foreign to me. Lamps that light at the flip of a switch, listening devices, new weapons. Carriages without horses or mules. Everything.”

“Yes, there’s a lot we have to teach you. If you’re willing to learn, that is.”

“You don’t know me. What I’m capable of.”

“Then teach us,” she said. “Work with us. I, for one, would like to help you build a new life here.”

Overwhelmed with emotion, I clenched my hands in my lap. “Why?”

“Because everyone deserves a chance. You never got yours.” She leaned forward on the table. “Do you have a name?”

I shook my head. “Not one that is worth using.”

“Then I suppose that means you get to choose a new one.” She smiled kindly and pushed her chair back from the table. “I’ll give you some time to think about everything.”

“No.” She stopped in her tracks. “I’ve made my decision.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll stay,” I said. “If you will have me.”

“Of course we will. And, your name?”

“M-my name… Asta. My name will be Asta.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Asta. I’m Peggy Carter.” She grinned. “I have a very good feeling about our future.”

“You’ll be staying here for the time being,” Peggy showed me into a small apartment. “You’re only three doors down from me, so come find me if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Peggy.”

“It’s nothing, Asta, really.” She fussed with the cushions on the small couch. “As of Friday, you are legally my sister. If someone asks for your surname, you tell them it’s Carter. Understood?”

“I understand, but I have no accent. It’s hardly believable.”

“If you’re questioned, we’ll say you were sent to live with relatives here during the first war. You stayed here for university and lost your accent when you were young.”

“I feel as if we may lose track of this lie.”

“We’ll be careful. If you have to leave your room, I’ll go with you. Field any questions someone may ask.”

“Alright.”

“There isn’t much that you can talk about from this century until you start your lessons.”

“When will we start?”

“Tomorrow morning. We’ll go to the library and you can choose whatever you like.” She paused to look back at me. “You can read, right?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I can read and write.”

“I apologize. I have to ask, as we don’t fully know what kind of education someone from your time might’ve received.”

“Seems as though it’s something that would have been recorded,” I muttered.

“Most history caters to what the rich and successful did,” Peggy explained. “Much of British history, specifically, focuses on the plague and royal drama.”

I shook my head. “Ridiculous.”

“No argument here.” She folded her arms. “I’ll be back to get you for dinner, alright?”

I nodded and she left.

I only lived in that first apartment for about four months before I was moved to a room at the SSR headquarter in New York. There, I could be better monitored by the SSR. Living there meant that no one asked questions that they shouldn’t and I was able to learn and ask questions without someone looking at me like I’d grown a tail. Living there made it more convenient for them to run their tests. They weren’t nearly as invasive as I might have expected them to be, but they often left me exhausted and worn down. The day they realized that I could withstand the explosion from a grenade was particularly exciting for their team of scientists. I, however, went back to my room at the end of the day and collapsed into bed after picking and brushing the shrapnel from my hair.

Peggy visited me as often as she could in those first few months. As it stood, she wasn’t allowed out of her apartment after a certain time. I never really understood curfews for grown women during that time. I have a feeling it was set as a way to control the tenants. We went out on our weekly trips to the library. She would quiz me on things I’d learned on our walk to and from, our arms laden with books. She was the first real friend I’d made since childhood and I cherished every moment I got with her.

The science team got bored with testing my strength and durability nearly four months, and by then the SSR signed off on a select group of agents to begin training me in combat. I started off learning hand to hand combat but had to hold back in order to keep from hurting the trainers. Enough were scared of me that they moved on to using heavy bags and demonstrating throws and takedowns on football dummies. It was only when new agents were brought in that I actually got to put any of that training to use. Most gave up after two sessions with me if they were smart.

Three months into my training, Peggy was allowed to slowly incorporate casework, provided it wasn’t anything that required any kind of physical altercation. I think they saw me as a walking lawsuit at the time. When I stepped between Agent Thompson and an angry suspect with a shotgun, their opinion seemed to change. He and I had had little to do with one another before that, though Peggy had worked closely with both him and Agent Sousa. We became more familiar with one another after that incident.

“Y’know, I wondered what your deal was when we first found you,” Jack mused one day.

“Oh?”

“Well, yeah. Some mysterious woman gets found asleep in a coffin, Snow White style, of course a guy’s bound to be curious.”

“Have you figured out my deal yet, then?” I asked, resting my chin in my hand.

“You’re hard to read,” he said. “So, no.”

“Mmm,” I hummed. “Pitty, that.”

He snorted and shook his head, but I caught the corner of his mouth turning up in a smile. We went back to our paperwork in silence. For some reason, it was easier to pick him out of the crowd during training for the next few weeks. I got suspicious of how often I saw him after an additional two weeks and began to notice money changing hands. It took a couple days before I realized that money only made an appearance when I fought a new agent. I let it go on for another week before I confronted him about it.

“Stop betting on the new agents, Thompson.”

He’d grinned. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll kick your ass,” I said.

“Didn’t think you knew how to talk like that,” he said. “I’m impressed, Carter.”

“You’d be surprised, the things that I know,” I smirked. “I’m a quick study.”

“Oh, I know. Midge says you’ve read through about half the public library by now.”

“You know she doesn’t like to be called Midge.” I shook my head and clipped up the heavy bag. “I don’t get why you treat her so poorly. If she were a man, she’d be your best friend.”

He shook his head. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I folded my arms and leaned against the wall to study him. “You’ve seen her in action. Hell, she’s half the reason you’re alive.”

“She is not.”

“Who do you think sent someone to check on you in California?” His eyes went wide. “Yes, I know you were shot in your hotel room.”

“I- That’s classified.”

“Which is why only Peggy and I know about it.”

“Why would you know?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Because I’m classified, Jack. No one’s supposed to know about me, so I have the pleasure of knowing about everyone else.”

“Impressive.”

“Quit deflecting.”

“Quit interrogating me,” he hissed.

“Ah, don’t like people getting close to your truth, do you?”

He growled and took a swing at me. I grabbed his fist, stopping him in his tracks, planted my foot in the middle of his chest, and kicked him away. He stumbled back, lost his balance, and fell to the mat. He groaned as he sat up and pressed one hand to the small of his back.

“Don’t throw a punch if you’re not ready for a fight,” I said. “Next time, I’m not going easy on you.”

“That was you going easy?”

“Did you know that I could crush your skull with one hand?” I crouched down in front of him and tilted my head to the side. “That I have lived longer than you could ever dream. That if you tried to shoot me, and your scientists have, if you tried to even cut or scratch me, nothing would happen? There would be no wound, no welt. Not even a mark. If you come at me again, a bruised tailbone will be the least of your worries.”

He leaned away, his eyes wide.  “What the fuck.”

I stood and offered him a hand up. He hesitated and I rolled my eyes. “Just let me help you up.”

“I’m not sure how comfortable I am with that.”

“I’m not going to hurt you. Just take my hand already.”

He hesitated, but eventually let me help him up. He brushed off his pants as soon as he was on his feet again.

"You're kind of terrifying," he said.

"That's the point." I looked him over. "Were you here to train, or…?"

He looked startled by the question but didn’t back down. “I might’ve been.”

“Well don’t let little ole me stop you,” I said.

He shuffled around and lifted weights for about half an hour before giving up. He made a point to avoid the gym whenever I was there from then on out. I thought it was hilarious at the time.

About two months later, an SSR agent walked up to Peggy and I while we were talking.

“Time for the lunch orders, ladies,” he said. He held out a notepad and pen with a sly smile on his face. “The natives are getting restless.”

“Order your own lunches,” I said.

He grabbed Peggy’s hand and slapped the pad and pen into it. “Not my job, sweetheart. Just get lunch.”

Peggy’s jaw tightened and she moved to get up from her chair. I held up one hand to stop her and took the pen and paper with the other. I grabbed the agent’s hand and slapped the pad and pen into it, just as he’d done to Peggy.

“Look, sweetheart. I see you’ve got two working legs. You are more than capable of ordering your own damn lunch. That is, unless you have issues with the English language, but judging by your accent, you don’t, so perhaps you’re still struggling to learn the alphabet.” I tipped my head to the side. “So, unless you’ve got some other convenient issue that’s miraculously spread through the office, I suggest you get lost and get your own fucking lunch. Does that sound reasonable to you, Agent?”

His eyes went wide and he looked to Peggy for some kind of backup. He didn’t find any.

“Look, lady, it’s just how things are done around here! You can’t blame me for that shit!”

“Can’t I? Because I don’t see you doing anything to change it. The only person I’d expect to ask someone to get lunch for them is Sousa, and he’s the only one around here who seems to know how to do anything for himself.” I shoved him lightly, which sent him stumbling backward. “Start a new tradition. Get your own lunches. Stop bothering us.”

He nodded dumbly and ran off to tell his friends they had to fend for themselves that day.

“We’re going to get in trouble for that,” Peggy said, a smile tugging at her lips.

“No,” I said. “Jack’s too scared of me to do anything about it.”

She cocked one perfect eyebrow. “Oh really? What did you do to put the fear of God into poor Jack Thompson?”

“Threw him around a little in the gym and threatened him,” I shrugged. “The usual.”

She snorted to cover up her laughter. “Why am I not surprised?”

I grinned and braced myself on her desk. “Because you know me.”

"That's very true." She shook her finger at me. "You really shouldn't go around threatening people."

I laughed and waved her off. "Don't worry about who I'm threatening. He hasn't bothered you in weeks, so I'd say it was worth it."

"Asta, you didn't."

"I didn't do anything drastic. I just mentioned that I thought it was funny that he's so rude to you, but if you were a man he'd treat you like a war hero." I added, very pointedly, "Which you are, and he needs to recognize that."

"I didn't do anything."

"I'm pretty sure you're responsible for facilitating, possibly, the greatest uprising in SSR history. You're the reason Captain America was able to get into the fight. You were key in strategy meetings. You were there for every single little thing, and they still treat you like dirt. Useful, but only if you can give them what they need."

“I’m not saying that I disagree with you, but-”

“You do disagree with my methods, I know. I’m sure this is a conversation we’ll have many, many times in the future.”

“I’m not so sure I like the sound of that.”

I laughed. “Would you like to go out for lunch today? My treat.”

“Your treat?”

“Didn’t you hear? They started paying me while you were in California, flirting with Sousa.”

“I wasn’t flirting,” she said. She caved when I shot her a questioning look. “Fine, I wasn’t just flirting.”

“There it is.” I reached out and tugged on her hand. “Come on. You can ask Daniel to come along. I might even invite Jack.”

Peggy laughed. “Why?”

I shrugged. “Dunno. I think I mostly want to see what he’ll do. Regardless, I’m paying so you might as well just say yes.”

She sighed but smiled regardless. “Fine, I give.”

I grinned and watched Peggy haul herself up from her chair and cross the floor to Sousa’s office. She tentatively opened the door and poked her head inside. Daniel gestured for her to come in and she slipped into the office. I saw him nod and smile and he got up to follow her from the office. I folded my arms and pushed off the desk.

I shouldered open the door to Jack’s office and leaned in the doorway. He slowly looked up from his paperwork to meet my eyes.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey. Peg ‘n’ I are going out for lunch. You want to come with?”

“You sure you want me there?” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.

“Yeah, you’re not bad company, Jack. You’d do well to remember that.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“Come on,” I said, pushing off the doorway. Jack stood up to grab his coat. “I don’t want to be a third wheel.”

He laughed and followed me out onto the floor. “And what am I getting out of this deal?”

“Free lunch.” He looked amused. “What?”

“On whose dime?”

“Mine? Who else’s?”

“Asta is an employee, Thompson,” Peggy said. “I thought you already knew that.”

“That’s not what I meant!” he said. “I just didn’t expect her to be paying, is all. I’m not saying that she couldn’t afford it.”

I placed my hand on his arm. “She’s messing with you, Jack.”

Daniel snorted and offered Peggy his arm. “Where to, ladies?”

Peggy suggested the diner and both men readily agreed. When we got there, Daniel sat next to Peggy and tucked her under his arm. Jack froze when he saw them but relaxed when I shook my head and picked up the menu.

Daniel, Jack, and Peggy made pleasant conversation while we ate and I sat quietly to listen. I occasionally offered my opinion if it was called for, but was otherwise silent.

I was nibbling absentmindedly at a french fry when Jack asked, “What’s your take on this, Carter?”

“Well…” Peggy began.

“Oh, sorry, I should've been specific. I meant Asta,” he said. He nudged me with his elbow. “We haven’t heard your take on the case.”

“You want my opinion?” I asked.

“Well, yeah.” He slung his arm up over the back of the booth, right above my shoulders. “We know what we think, but a different point of view is important.”

I looked at Peggy and found my amusement reflected on her face. I finished the fry before answering. “Huh, okay.”

I reached for another fry and Jack said, “Are you gonna tell us or what?”

“No, I’m gonna make you wait,” I shot back. I bit down on the fry and Daniel burst out laughing. I looked up at Jack and found him red in the face. The wink I gave him didn’t help much with his predicament.

“I’m serious! We’ve pretty much exhausted our ideas here.”

“I know, give me a moment to think.” I sat back and pressed my fist to my mouth. “There was one woman you spoke to who didn’t quite sit right with me.”

“A suspect?” Daniel asked.

I shook my head. “No, I think it was someone’s wife or sister. She just knew too much about what happened in that lab. Showed no signs of grief at all.”

“Not all people grieve the same.”

“I am well aware of how people grieve. This was different. She was, I don’t know… almost smug? Like she’d gotten away with something and was trying not to gloat about it. I didn’t say anything because I figured you’d want to go over your own theories first.”

“No, that helps,” Jack said. “A lot, actually.”

“Don’t sound too surprised there, Thompson,” I said.

“I’m not surprised. I’m sorry we didn’t ask for your help sooner.”

I tried to hide my smile, but I caught Jack smiling out of the corner of my eye. I kept quiet the rest of lunch, content to listen to the casual conversation.

On the walk back to the office, I hung back to people watch. Eventually, my eyes were drawn to Peggy and Daniel. I remember when she’d come back from California and the first thing she told me about was the development between the two of them. I sat with her while she talked about everything that happened, only half listening at the time, but happy for her regardless. From what she’d told me of her life before coming back to New York, she deserved happiness.

“What’re you thinking about?” Jack asked.

I jumped, not realizing he’d been pacing me for five minutes. I pressed my hand to my chest and wheezed out, “Holy shit.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, it’s alright. Why do you want to know?”

He shrugged. “Your shoulders were kinda hunched and you had this far off look in your eyes. I figured it had to be something pretty serious.”

“Oh.”

“So?”

“It’s nothing,” I said. “I was thinking about when Peggy came back from California. She was happier than I’d ever seen her.”

“And now?”

“She’s still just as happy. Whatever this thing is with Daniel is lasting. I'm happy for her.”

“Huh,” he said. “I thought you would’ve been thinking about your own life. Or past life, or something.”

I laughed. “No. My life wasn’t all that interesting before I got here. Nothing worth dwelling on.”

“I doubt that’s true.”

“It is, though. There’s so much that I escaped in my past. The stress of an arranged marriage or how I’d take care of myself if no one wanted me. Now I have a job and friends and…” I pressed my lips together and shook my head. “Sorry.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry, that was a lot.”

“No,” He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Thanks for telling me.”

“Thanks for listening.”

He offered me his arm and I snorted before placing my hand in the crook of his elbow. I caught him smiling and felt myself blush. We walked on in silence for about five more minutes before Jack asks another question.

“Why did you invite me out today?”

I shrugged. “I don’t like being a third wheel.”

“Seriously?”

“Also kind of wanted to see what you’d do.”

“So I’m an experiment.”

“A little.”

“Wow.”

“I don’t mean to insult you. It’s just hard to tell where I stand with you.”

“Explain.”

“Well, Peggy and I are pretty much sisters and has made that abundantly clear, and Daniel thinks I’m odd but puts up with me because of Peggy. The rest of the men in the office act like I don’t exist until lunch rolls around and they’re too lazy to go out and get their own or they don’t want to do their jobs.”

“And me?”

“I can tell you’re curious about me, but I never know what you’re going to do. I avoided you at first, and you sought me out in the gym. I threatened you and you still went out to lunch when I invited you. Now, you’ve got me on your arm and we’ve talked more than I have with the majority of people I know.” I frowned. “I guess I find you interesting. I want to understand you.”

He hummed. “Alright, that's fair.”

“I wasn’t trying to ask you on a date earlier,” I added. “I know that worried you.”

“What?”

“You froze up when Sousa put his arm around Peggy earlier.”

“Right, that.” He shook his head. “I just don’t like being ambushed with it, is all.”

“Hm?”

“I’m not used to being asked out.”

“You’re usually the one who asks.”

“Exactly. But, if someone did ask me out on a date, I’d want to know what their intentions are.”

I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “Are you saying that you want me to ask you on a date?”

Jack looked around before pulling me under the overhang of a corner store. I glanced at where his hands held my arms before looking up at him, confused. Carefully, I held his elbows and tilted my head to the side, silently asking him to talk to me. His brows pulled together and he frowned.

"I don't get you," he said.

"That doesn't answer my question."

Someone had stopped to stare at us, and I suspect they were worried for my safety. Jack seemed to pick up on this and turned us so that he had his back to the wall instead of me. He sighed and let go of my arms.

He began to step away. "They're gonna wonder where we are."

I grabbed his hands and pulled him back to me. "No, Jack. Tell me."

"Asta-"

"Please? I won't bother you anymore after this, I promise." I gave him a small smile. "We both know how quiet I can be. It'll be like I'm not even in the office."

I immediately let go of his hands and folded my arms tight against my body. I could feel myself trying to make myself smaller and hated it. Jack put his hands on my shoulders and straightened them out. He then trailed his hand down my arm and took my hand.

"I'm not an easy person," he said softly. "I'm not good with feelings or anything like that, and that's probably my fault. But everything new I learn about you makes me want to know more. I want to understand you and where you came from and what made you who you are. I want to know if you knew Shakespeare or if you made art in your past. I don't know if I want you to ask me on a date. I just know that I want to know you."

"I can tell you right now that I didn't know Shakespeare," I said. "I knew of him and saw a couple of his plays, but I didn't know him."

"See?" He shook his head. "I want to be around you. I just don't want to force more than that."

I nodded. "Thank you for telling me."

"Of course."

"Can I have a couple days to think about what you've said?" I asked. "I need some time."

“Yeah, sure.”

"I'm not good with words." I gently squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be. It’s hard to be upset when you keep asking so nicely.”

“Okay.”

He moved my hand to his elbow again and led me back out onto the sidewalk. Peggy and Daniel had beaten us back to the office by ten minutes when we stepped through the doors. Jack excused himself and went back to his office. Peggy pulled me aside as soon as I was alone.

“What took you so long?” she asked.

I shook my head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re late getting back. What happened?”

“Oh. Thompson wanted to ask me a couple more questions. That’s all.”

“That’s odd.”

I shrugged. “I’m an odd person. People tend to want to ask questions. You certainly did, at first.”

Someone in a lab coat wandered out into the office, looking lost. I looked past Peggy and caught his eye. He immediately relaxed and crossed the floor to talk to us.

“We need your help in the lab,” he said.

“Why?” I asked. “I thought you were done with me.”

"Well…" He scratched the back of his neck.

Realizing that going with him would get me away from Peggy's questions, I held up my hand to stop him. "You know what? It doesn't matter, let's just get it over with."

I apologized to Peggy and left with the lab coat.

The tests took nearly a week and didn't leave me any time to work in the office, let alone think. Each night, I was allowed two hours to train in the gym before I had to return to my quarters. I was frustrated, to say the least.

The day we finished the tests I spent more time than usual in the gym, working out my frustrations on a punching bag. I had knocked it off the hook three times before I had to sit down and patch it up.

“Thought I might find you down here.”

I let out a startled squeak and looked over my shoulder. Jack stood ten feet away from me with his hands in his pockets. His hair was a mess and something in me wanted to fix it.

“Hi,” I said dumbly. I couldn’t figure out anything else to say.

“I haven’t seen you in a week.”

“I’ve been stuck in the lab,” I tried to explain. “By the time I can get away you’re already gone for the night.”

“Okay.”

I ignored the punching bag and spun around to face him. “I did want to talk to you earlier. I’m sure I could’ve made some time. I apologize.”

“I don’t know why you’re apologizing, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why are you standing so far away from me?”

“Because the last time I was with you in this room you put me on my ass.”

“So you’re scared of me?” I pushed myself to my feet. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

“I think I’d be scared of you regardless.”

“You want a rematch?” I asked.

“Are you messing with me?”

”I don’t joke about fighting.”

“Why do you want to fight me? I can’t seriously be a challenge for you.”

“It’s not about you being a challenge. It’s about the fact that you’re scared of me.” I locked eyes with him. “And I don’t want you to be scared of me.”

“So you’re trying to make me face my fears?”

“Yes.”

“Seriously?”

“What the hell kind of relationship could the two of us have if you’re too scared to get close to me when we’re alone?” I snapped. “So either you spar with me and we can move forward, or I’m going to bed and putting this behind me.”

“I don’t want to fight you.”

“Why not? You can’t physically hurt me.” I folded my arms and took several steps closer to him. “We’ll lay ground rules. No body throws and anything that could be considered a blow to the genitals to either of us is off the table. We go till one of us is on the mat. Sound reasonable to you?”

He squinted. “Fine.”

“Wonderful!” I stepped back and grabbed the heavy bag and moved it to the corner with the others.

Jack shed his suit coat and tie before turning to face me. He approached me as he rolled up his shirt sleeves. I wandered over and stopped in front of him to size him up. I tilted my head to the side and looked him over with my hands in my pockets. I nodded and took a step back to look him in the eye.

Jack readily got into his fighting stance with his fists held up to guard his face. I blinked at him and waited for him to make the first move. It took him nearly two minutes to make up his mind and actually throw a punch. I moved my head to the side to avoid it. Confused, Jack took several more swings, only for me to dodge all of them.

“I thought we were supposed to fight,” he growled.

“We are,” I said. “I fight differently.”

He tried to grab me, but I easily sidestepped and slapped his hands down. He hissed in pain and I muttered a quick apology before settling into the fight again.

I blocked each punch and kick he threw at me, quickly slapping them away or simply catching the blows with my forearms before pushing him back. He didn’t seem to understand what I was doing and just kept trying to come at me harder than he had before. Eventually, I had both his fists held in my hands, crossed at his wrists. I pulled them in opposite directions and Jack cried out in pain and surprise.

I leaned in and said, “See, if you weren’t you, I’d headbutt you right now. But I don’t actually want to hurt you, so I’m not gonna do that.”

“Should I be thanking you?”

“That depends,” I placed my foot in his stomach and pushed him away. He stumbled but managed to regain his balance. “Are you going to give me an actual fight, or are you just gonna keep fucking around till I get bored?”

That annoyed him enough that he finally started coming at me with some decent force. He was faster than he initially let on and, consequently, suddenly more of a challenge. I only narrowly dodged a blow to my stomach before he managed to catch me with a punch to the jaw. I staggered back, more surprised by the blow than anything else. Jack didn’t seem to recognize that, though, and followed after me to make sure I was alright.

When I saw the concern on his face, I laughed and pushed him away with a hand to his chest. He tried to use his proximity to his advantage, but only wound up winded when I punched him in the stomach. He wheezed as he tried to regain his footing and kept his distance until he could find another opening. We were lazily circling each other when he saw his opportunity.

He rushed me and ducked in time to just barely avoid my fist. He grabbed my wrists and hooked his heel around mine and kicked back. I fell to the mat with him hovering over me, pinning my arms down. I looked up at him, eyes wide. Jack panted as he tried to catch his breath.

“I win,” he declared.

“Do you?”

"You said we'd go till one of us was on the mat. I took you down. I win."

I laughed. "I guess."

"What do you mean you guess?" he said. He didn't sound angry and the smile playing at his lips betrayed him. "I have you pinned!"

"You won the match, but my plan worked perfectly." I hooked my legs around his and flipped us. I grinned at the look of shock on his face. "You weren't even thinking. You just went for it. And look at how close we are."

"Oh," he said, his voice suddenly small.

"Are you scared?" I asked. "Scared of me?"

"Not of you."

"Then what?"

"I'm scared of this. How close we are."

"Why?" I sat up slightly and Jack moved with me. My heart hammered in my chest.

"Because I think I'd really like to kiss you right now, and I don't want to push you for something you don't want." I sat back in his lap and he propped himself up on his hands. He smiled sadly.  “Please say something.”

“I don’t- I’m not good with words.”

He nodded. “I know. You told me.”

“Can I just…” I slowly reached out and placed my hands on his shoulders. His eyes locked on mine and he nodded.

I carefully traced my fingers over his shoulders and up his neck. I framed the line of his jaw with the tips of my fingers and paused for a moment. I allowed my eyes to scan over his face, mapping out the angles of his cheekbones and the curve of his nose. My eyes were drawn up to his hair as I remembered what a mess it was when he first walked in. I bit my lip to hide my smile as I reached up to comb my fingers through and relished the feeling of his hair between my fingers.

I trailed my fingers down the back of his neck and his eyes fluttered shut when I traced over his cheekbone. He leaned into my touch when I cradled his face in my hands. I then lightly brushed my thumbs over his lips, which sent a shiver through Jack’s body.

Jack slowly opened his eyes. His gaze lingered on my lips for a moment before he managed to meet my eyes.

“Can I kiss you, Jack?” I whispered.

“Yes,” he breathed.

I smiled and tentatively brushed my lips against his. He let out a shaky breath against my lips and tilted his head to gently press his lips to mine. He waited for me to kiss him back before he moved one of his hands to the back of my head and weaved his fingers into my hair. I felt more than heard myself make a small, needy noise at the back of my throat and pulled away. I covered my mouth with my hand out of embarrassment.

"What?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I don't know what that was."

“Hmm?”

“That noise.” I groaned and covered my face with my hands. “That’s so embarrassing.”

“Look at me.” I shook my head and he laughed. He gently coaxed my hands away from my face. “Come on, look at me.”

I bit the inside of my cheek and met his eyes. He looped my arms around his neck and settled his hands on my waist. I frowned and tilted my head to the side.

“What is it?” I asked, voice small.

“I don’t get how you can go from being so confident to a blushing mess.” I rolled my eyes but immediately looked him in the eye when his grip on my waist tightened. "The sound you made isn't embarrassing. It's cute."

"No, it's not…"

"Yes it is," he insisted. "I like it. I like knowing that I have an effect on you. Y'know, other than pissing you off and annoying you."

“You don’t… you don’t piss me off.”

“I don’t?”

“No, you don’t. I just- I get frustrated, and I want to understand. I want to understand you, but learning people isn’t like reading books. It’s not easy.” I fiddled with the hair at the back of his neck. “But I don’t want this to be easy. If you want there to be a this.”

“I do want that.” He drew gentle circles on my sides with his thumbs. “But I don’t want to frustrate you.”

“I think that’s part of relationships, Jack. If we do this, I’m going to be annoying, you’re going to frustrate me. We’re going to have disagreements. But we’ll learn together. Grow through experiences and be better people. I think that’s worth a little frustration, don’t you?”

“I do.” He smiled. “I don’t know why you keep saying you’re bad with words. You expressed yourself pretty perfectly just then.”

“I don’t know about that. I just spoke the truth.”

“Do you want to do this?” he asked. “Us.”

I nodded. “Yes. You’re a challenge I’m ready for, Jack Thompson.”

He grinned and pressed his forehead to mine. I tilted my head to the side slightly and kissed him tenderly, which he returned before pulling away and wrapping his arms around me and holding me close. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been held like that, so I pressed my nose to his neck and clung to him.

“I should probably go to my room,” I mumbled. “I was supposed to leave the gym an hour ago.”

“They gave you a curfew?”

“Kind of, yeah.” I braced myself on his shoulders and got to my feet. “I really should go. They’ll send someone from the night shift around to check on everything.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You afraid to get caught?”

“No,” I offered him a hand up and he took it. “The tongue lashing I’ll get if I’m caught is annoying. If I can avoid it, I will.”

“Let me walk you back then,” he said. “You can’t get in trouble if I’m the one who made you late.”

I laughed. "Okay, I'll take you up on that."

He opened the door for me and offered his arm when he stepped out into the hall after me. I stuck close to his side the entire walk back to my rooms. We were fortunate enough to avoid running into anyone along the way. I stepped out in front of him when we reached my door and keyed in the passcode to unlock the door.

“No keys?” he asked.

I shook my head and pushed the door open. “You can lose keys. Even if you lose your fingers, you can still figure out something to punch a code in.”

“Kinda dark.”

I snorted. “Do you expect anything less from me?”

“Y’know, I probably shouldn’t. But I always manage to underestimate you.”

I turned to face him and leaned in the doorway. “Something I’m sure you’ll continue to do.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure it is.”

I stood in my doorway, staring and smiling at him for a moment before realizing what I was doing. I shook my head and tried to make my escape. "I guess this is goodnight, then."

"Wait," he reached out to me and I stopped. He took my hand and stepped closer.

"Hmm?"

He stooped down to kiss me. "Okay, now I can say goodnight."

I laughed and bit back my smile. "Just go. I'll see you tomorrow, Jack."

"See you tomorrow."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Asta."

He kissed my forehead and backed down the hall. Before he turned the corner he did a little twirl and waved to me. I heard him whistling as he walked away and I smiled and shook my head as I closed myself in my rooms.

I sat on my bed and buried my face in my pillow to muffle the sound of my giddy squeals. My legs flailed in little butterfly kicks of nervous excitement. I couldn't figure out how to express exactly how I was feeling in the moment, but wrote what I could down in my journal. I couldn't wipe the smile from my face, even in my sleep.

The next morning wasn’t nearly as happy as the night before.

I was whisked away by a pair of lab coats just before I could sit down for the morning briefing. They rattled off something about inconsistencies in their tests from earlier in the week. They fussed over me for nearly four hours before I was able to get away. At that point, I was exhausted and nauseous, and wanted nothing more than to just sit down so that the room would stop spinning.

When I reached my desk, Peggy wasn’t there. The file and notes on her desk told me that she was probably in an interrogation, or something close to it. I quickly realized that I needed to be somewhere out of the way if I didn’t want to be pestered about a case I knew nothing about, or worse, hauled off to the lab again.

My eyes landed on Jack’s office, and it dawned on me that I hadn’t seen him yet that day. I glanced around to make sure no one was watching before crossing the floor and knocking on the door. I didn’t receive an answer and decided to knock more before letting myself in.

The desk lamp was on, but Jack was nowhere to be seen.

I didn’t give his absence much thought as a wave of dizziness crashed over me. I nearly fell, but braced myself on the arm of the couch and waited for it to pass. When it did, my vision was blurry and I immediately laid on the couch. I squeezed my eyes shut and curled into a tight ball.

I faded in and out of sleep for nearly two hours.

A gentle hand on my forehead woke me. I leaned into their touch and they pushed my hair off my forehead. I could vaguely hear them saying my name.

“Asta?” I cracked my eyes open. “Hey, there you are.”

“Jack?” My voice sounded rough and I hugged my arms around myself.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You look a little grey.”

“I don’t know.” I shivered and moved closer to Jack. “I don’t feel well.”

“You weren’t feeling like this last night, were you?”

“No, I was fine. I was fine this morning too.”

“When did this start?”

“Around noon, I think. It was a little more than an hour before I left the lab.”

“I thought they were done with their tests.”

“So did I, but they said something about inconsistencies and dragged me off before I had time to process what was happening.”

He frowns. “Can you sit up?”

“I don’t know. I was really dizzy earlier.” I covered my face with one hand. “It’s why I came in here. I didn’t think I could make it back to my room.”

“Let’s get you sat up,” he said.

He helped me sit up, though I leaned heavily against the arm of the couch. I pressed my hand to my forehead as the dizziness settled in again. I tamped down the urge to dry-heave and settled with focusing on keeping my breaths deep and even. When everything got to be a little too much, I let my head fall back against the back of the couch and covered my eyes with one arm.

“This is hell,” I muttered.

Jack squeezed my hand. “I’m getting Peggy. I’ll be right back.”

I let out a shaky breath when he let go of my hand and wrapped my free arm around my stomach. I kept quiet when Jack returned with Peggy. 

“Asta,” Peggy placed a gentle hand on my arm. “Jack tells me you’re not feeling well.”

“She’s been stuck in the lab for over a week,” Jack added. “She was fine until they started calling her in for whatever tests they forgot.”

“You suspect someone in the lab has something to do with this?” Peggy asked.

“I’m not pointing fingers. I’m just saying that she was fine last night, and now she’s not.”

“Do you think he could be right, darling?” she asked.

“I don’t know if I’d, ugh-” I cut myself off to bear out a dizzy spell. “I don’t know if I’d rule it out. They took me by surprise this morning when they grabbed me. I wasn’t able to ask many questions.”

“Help her up, Jack,” Peggy said. “We’re going to the lab.”

He did as he was told and I leaned heavily against him as he helped me down the hall.

“Think you can make it?” he asked.

I nodded and he kissed the top of my head when Peggy wasn’t looking. I stumbled when we were about halfway to the lab and Jack stopped to sweep me into his arms and carry me bridal style the rest of the way. I tucked my face into his neck and focused on the sound of his breathing to distract myself from the nausea. I stopped paying close attention after that.

A man greeted us upon arrival, saying, “Agent Carter, Agent Thompson. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Pleasant surprise, my ass,” Jack muttered. “You have some explaining to do.”

“Excuse me?” The man sounded offended.

“Exactly what tests have you been performing with Asta over the past week?” Peggy asked. “Because I am certain it wasn’t anything sanctioned by the agency.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. Ms. Carter is simply a point of interest for us.”

“In what world would tests for a point of interest leave your subject so nauseated and dizzy that they can hardly keep on their feet?” Peggy demanded.

“I’m sure she’s fine, if not a bit dramatic,” he said. “She left of her own volition not two hours ago.”

“Oh, really? Then I’m sure I can just set her down right here, and she’ll be fine,” Jack said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I’m sure she would be.”

I clutched at Jack’s suit coat when I felt even a slight shift in his body. “Don’t, please.”

“Can I set you on the table?” he asked, his voice soft enough that only I could hear.

I nodded and he carefully set me on the cool, metal table along the wall of the lab. He stayed close enough that I could’ve reached out and taken his hand.

“See? She’s fine.” The man stepped closer. “Aren’t you, Ms. Carter?”

“What did you do to me?” I asked.

“What?” He stepped even closer. He didn’t realize his mistake. “Speak up, Ms. Carter.”

I reached out and wrapped my hand around his throat, too quickly for him to react. Peggy tried to step in, but Jack held a hand out to stop her. I wasn’t choking him. Just holding him tight enough to scare him a little. Tight enough to keep him from getting away.

“What. Did. You. Do. To. Me,” I ground out. “You and your little minions have kept me locked up here for a week, not telling me exactly what you were doing or why you’ve been poking around.”

“I’m sure-”

I tightened my grip and he whimpered. “Oh, you’re always so sure of yourself, but I don’t have that kind of faith in you. You’re going to tell me what the fuck it is you’ve been doing, or I swear I will crush your neck and watch the life leave your eyes.”

I released him and pushed him away from me. I heard Jack mutter a quick “Holy shit,” before rushing to my side when I started to curl into myself. He helped me sit back against the wall and kept one hand on my knee in case I needed his support.

“Just what have you been doing in this lab?” Peggy repeated. “Even if Asta can’t follow through on her promise, I’d be glad to take a stab at it.”

He looked past Peggy to Jack for some kind of support, but Jack just shook his head.

“We discovered that the structure of her DNA is similar to Steve Rogers’ after the Vita-Ray procedure,” the man began. “We took half the week to test her reflexes and ensure that she was fit enough before-”

“Before what,” Jack hissed.

“Before we began testing our new super-soldier serum.” He seemed to realize that what he’d said wasn’t positive and scrambled to fix that. “We haven’t finished the procedure, yet! There’s no way to be sure that whatever is happening to her is caused by the serum.”

“What is wrong with you?!” Peggy shoved the man hard enough that he fell to the floor. “How dare you even think about trying to recreate the serum! We do not play God in the SSR. And we certainly don’t test… shit on people without their consent!”

“We didn’t know what would happen!”

“I should kill you myself,” Peggy hissed. “Pumping my sister full of poison. You are scum.”

I took Jack's hand and quickly told him to stop Peggy before she actually did murder the man. Jack stepped between them just as one of the lab technicians walked in.

"What's going on?" she asked. She caught sight of me hunched over and her eyes went wide. "Is she okay?"

Jack filled her in on the situation while I did my best to calm Peggy, who was completely seething mad. The technician seemed genuinely horrified.

"I don't think any of us thought he'd go through with it. I mean, he'd talked about it after the initial DNA examination, but no one seemed interested enough in pushing it, so no one presented it to the higher-ups." She shook her head. "I guess a few people were interested enough to start testing."

"Will she be alright?" Jack asked.

"I don't know. I'd have to see what the serum was made with in order to determine that."

Peggy seemed to perk up at that and I held her hand tightly and looked from Jack to the scientist on the floor. He seemed to get the idea and started asking him questions before Peggy could make a move. They found a vial of the serum within five minutes.

The technician examined a slide of the serum under the microscope and scribbled notes every time she looked away. I didn't keep a close eye on what she was doing and, instead, opted to rest my head on Jack's shoulder. Peggy held onto my hand even after I loosened my grip.

The technician fussed over the sample for about twenty minutes before making her decision.

"She'll be fine," she announced. "There isn't anything that's immediately toxic in the serum. If I'm being honest, I don't think it's much of a serum at all, but it's definitely enough to cause nausea and dizziness, like Asta is experiencing."

"How long till she's back to normal?" Peggy asks.

The lab tech shrugged. "I'm not sure. Considering the number of doses, I'd say give it a few days and see how she's feeling then."

"So… you're essentially saying she needs to sleep it off?" Jack asked.

"Precisely. Though I would suggest that someone stay with her, or at least frequently check on her. It's easy for someone to get dehydrated in her state."

“At least I’m not going to die,” I mumbled.

Jack laughed and softly said, “I’ll stay with you, if you’d like.”

I turned my head to hide my smile against his arm. “I’d like that, yeah.”

Sousa was called in to help Peggy detain and process the man who had, essentially, poisoned me. Peggy hung back, worrying about leaving me behind and I waved her off, saying that she should go help Daniel.

“I’ll make sure she gets back to her room alright,” Jack said. She didn’t seem convinced and he added, “I’m going to stay with her. She’s not going anywhere for the rest of the day.”

“Alright.” She caressed my cheek and I smiled. “I’ll come to check on you later.”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me. Just make sure he gets what he deserves.”

She nodded and watched Jack help me off the table. I had hoped I would be able to make it without him having to carry me, but my legs gave out almost as soon as we made it through the doors. I hid my face against his chest after he picked me up.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I hate that you have to do this.”

“You just don’t like feeling helpless,” he said.

I corrected him, saying, “I don’t like being a burden.”

“I get that, but I’d much rather carry you to your room than have you dying in my arms.”

“Aw, two days, and you’re already so attached.” I laughed. “Should I be worried?”

“Oh, definitely,” he said. I could hear the smile in his voice. “It’s just gonna get worse from here.”

I hummed softly and settled against his chest. "I look forward to it."

Once inside my room, Jack helped me gather comfortable clothes and waited outside the bathroom while I changed. I took my hair down and allowed the curls to just hang around my shoulders. When I was done, he helped me hobble to my bed and situate myself before he took his jacket and shoes off. He sat beside me on the bed and kicked his feet up. As soon as he finished loosening his tie I curled into his side, seeking out the warmth of his body.

“If you’re gonna be on the bed, you might as well lie down,” I said.

“You want me to?”

I nodded. “You keep me calm.”

He scooted down the bed and turned on his side. I shuffled closer and pressed my nose to his chest. With one hand held against my stomach, I rested the other on his hip. I sighed softly, content.

“Now who’s the clingy one?”

I smiled and slung my arm over his waist and mumbled, “Still you.”

He snorted. “I walked right into that, didn't I.”

"You did."

"If you're gonna be mean, then maybe I’ll just leave."

"Aw, you don't mean that." I tipped my head up to look at him. He tried to scowl at me and failed. "If you did, you wouldn't be here. Peggy would, and she'd be sitting in that chair over there."

"I know. You're right." He tucked my hair behind my ear. "Just try to rest. I don't need you dying on me."

I nodded and he leaned in to kiss me softly. He wrapped his arm around me and kissed my forehead before I snuggled into his chest and allowed myself to drift off.

I woke to a hissing sound several hours later. It took a minute for the sound to register as someone shushing someone else.

“What are you doing in her bed?!” Peggy demanded.

“She is asleep,” Jack hissed back. “Lower your voice.”

“I can see that she’s asleep. Why are you in bed with her?” She sounded upset. “When you said you’d stay with her this certainly isn’t what I pictured.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t.”

“Then why.”

“She asked me to.”

She scoffed. “I highly doubt that.”

“I’d say you could ask her, but she’s asleep.”

“Not anymore,” I mumbled.

Jack let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed my back. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I should probably get up and try to eat something anyway.” I sat slowly up and combed my fingers through my hair. “If you’re going to ask, Peggy, just ask. I don’t want to hide anything from you.”

She frowned. “You asked him to stay with you?”

“I did.” I glance at Jack and he smiles. “You have nothing to worry about. He’s taking good care of me. I promise.”

“I just… did I miss something?” she asked. “Have I been ignoring things that are happening in your life?”

“No, you haven’t. This is just something that’s very…” I pressed my hand to my mouth as I searched for the right word. “It’s very personal, and I need to keep it close to my chest for now. I’m not hiding anything from you, I just don’t get many things that are just for me.”

“I understand.” She smiled and reached out for my hand. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Of course.”

“If you hurt her, Jack, I will murder you.”

Jack shook his head and got up from the bed. “I was really hoping I could avoid the threats until we were further down the line, but thanks for the warning!”

He asked me what I’d like to eat and I asked for some Saltines and water. I didn’t think I could keep anything else down. Peggy almost made for the door, but Jack stopped her and said he’d go out and get some food. He asked if there was anything she wanted while he put his shoes on. When she said no he kissed the top of my head and left for the store. Peggy watched him leave before looking back at me, a mix of shock and confusion on her face.

“What?”

“The two of you seem quite comfortable with each other,” she said. She sat beside me on the bed. “I know you said you’d tell me, but I can’t help feeling as if I missed something.”

“You didn’t, I swear.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. You can’t miss something that you weren’t there for.”

“How did it happen?”

I shook my head and scrubbed my hands over my face. “I’m not entirely sure. We’ve bothered each other since I started training, so that had to have been almost a year ago now. Then there was the time I scared the life out of him in the gym, and then last week we started talking after lunch. I think that was the start of anything mutual?”

“Is that why you were late getting back?”

I smiled sheepishly. “Maybe.”

“You could’ve just told me. I wouldn’t have judged you.”

“It’s not that I was worried about that. Like I said, I don’t have many things that are just for me. I wanted to give myself time to feel like I live a normal life.” I pulled my knees to my chest and sighed. “I know that my life will never be normal, and I’m fine with that, but the more time that I’m allowed to work on cases and go out into the city without a chaperone, I feel like I’m taking some normalcy back.”

She took my hand and squeezed gently. “I understand.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, Asta. I don’t want to control you or your life, and I’d hate for you to feel that I was doing so.”

"I know you don't, but it feels like the SSR controls almost every facet of my life. It gets frustrating. I wish I had more time for myself." The door opened, but I didn't notice. "I want to learn to paint and go dancing and spend time with Jack. I don't want to feel like a prisoner."

"You want to paint?" Peggy asked.

"I have since I was little. My family was poor, so I never had the money or opportunity, not to mention the fact that I'm a woman. Everything worked against me then. Now I have the money and I have a little extra time." I pressed my nose to my knees. "I know that sounds stupid."

Someone new said, "No, Asta, it doesn't."

I blinked, confused by the new voice, and looked up to see Jack standing beside the bed. "Hey," I said.

"Hey." He held out a sleeve of crackers and a glass of water.

"Thank you." I smiled and took them from him. "I didn't hear you come in."

"I didn't want to interrupt your conversation," he said.

“How considerate of you.” Peggy squeezed my knee and pushed herself up from the bed. “I have to get back to work. I’ll check in tomorrow and see how you’re doing.”

“Okay, I’ll see you then,” I said.

I watched her leave before setting the glass of water on the bedside table and opening the sleeve of crackers. Jack returned to his place on the bed and I let my head fall to his shoulder as I nibbled on one cracker. I think I ate nearly half the sleeve before I felt I could drink anything, and quickly downed the entire glass of water when I tried. I was exhausted by the end and settled back against Jack once I’d placed the empty glass on the table.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yes. Thank you. For all of this, really.”

“It’s not a problem, Asta, really.”

“I just don’t want to become your problem,” I mumbled. “I’ve caused a lot of worry for you over the past week. I don’t want that to be where we start.”

“An agent would’ve been assigned to monitor you, regardless. I’d rather it be me than someone else.” I frowned and he wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “You’re not a burden, Asta. I’m worried about you because I care for you. There’s no start or end involved there. I just wanna make sure you’re okay. Is that okay with you?”

I nodded. "It's alright with me."

"Good."

I nodded against his shoulder again and cuddled into his side as my eyes grew heavy. Jack helped me lay down again without saying anything and held my hand as I drifted off.

"I probably won't be here when you wake up again," he said. " I've gotta get some work done in the office and then get home for the night."

"Okay."

"I'll be back tomorrow to check on you. If Carter doesn't get to you first, that is."

"You can still come if you want," I mumble. "I like spending time with you."

I felt him chuckle against my hair. "I'm glad you do."

I hummed and pressed my nose to his chest. "Goodnight, Jack."

"G'night, sweetheart."

--------

Part 2

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[etherealwaifgoddess]

One In A Million - Chpt.1

Summary: Project Traveler is ready for its first test subject and you volunteer for the position, unwilling to risk any of the other brilliant minds who have been working on the project from the beginning. 

Word Count: 1.6k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! Who’s ready to get this started!? I’ve been sitting on this fic a while now and I finally feel like it’s ready to be out in the world. I’m so excited to share it with you all. Hope you enjoy! XOXO - Ash

Chapter One

“Send me.” you offer, causing the room full of scientists and PhD’s to turn and stare at you. “I mean it.” you continue, “You guys need someone you can trust who knows the science behind this if it goes wrong. The only one who will miss me is my cactus.” 

Chelton, the head of SHIELD’s Traveler project, looks at you thoughtfully. You’re young, still working towards your PhD after completing your masters a few years ago. It’s hard for him to believe you have nothing tying you to the world, but thinking back he can’t remember you ever talking about family or friends or anything personal. He assumed you were just taciturn by nature but he realizes now it was more than that. “You realize this is test number one?” he asks you, “We’re pretty sure it’s ready to go but if we’re wrong....”

You waive him off, “I know, I know. Death, dismemberment, permanent brain damage, yada, yada, yada. I’ve watched you guys work on this for two years now, it’s as ready as it’s ever gonna be. And someone needs to be the guinea pig, so it might as well be me. I’m still learning, if you lose me there’s still enough brains to keep things going and try again. If we lose one of you the project could end permanently.” You know it’s calloused but you made up your mind as soon as you had seen them putting the finishing touches on the transporter a week ago. 

“Don’t discredit yourself, Y/N.” Chelton admonishes, “You're a valued member of this team. I want you to take the weekend and really think about this. Make preparations if you’re still serious after thinking it over. When you come in on Monday if you’ve changed your mind, no one will think any less of you.” 

You give him a soft smile, knowing you need to assuage his concern, “Okay, thanks Chelton. I’ll think about it. Now, who’s ready to get out of here?” You pick up your files, ready to pack up for the day. It’s been a long week and you’re suddenly eager to get home, this will be your last weekend in the twenty-first century for a while. 

Your apartment is a small studio over top a corner shop and it’s just big enough that you’re not constantly bumping into your furniture. Definitely an upgrade from the shoe box you lived in at college with two roommates. When you had moved to the city to work on the project recreating Tony Stark’s time machine it felt like a luxury just to have a place of your own. You water the little cactus who sits on the window sill in your living room, and settle in with your laptop to pay a few bills online. If things go as planned and you come back, it will be important to still have a roof over your head. 

Your evenings are quiet with none of your friends living in the city. You email a few of them to let them know you’ll be away on a work trip and that you miss them. The picture of your parents sitting on the bookshelf makes your heart ache for a moment. You wonder if they would be proud of you if they were still alive. They’ve been gone for a decade now but it doesn’t do much to dull the pain of their loss. 

Your stomach rumbles, reminding you that you haven’t eaten since breakfast. Normally you’d just scrounge up something from your cupboards, whatever you had leftover from earlier in the week. But a sense of fatalism hits and you realize that if you don’t make it back in one piece on Monday it doesn’t really matter if you blow a day’s worth of pay on a five star restaurant or not. And you have been dying to go to Peter Luger Steak House since you moved to Brooklyn. You put on your nicest looking dress, dark blue silk that accents your curves without making you look lumpy, and throw on a little make up for the hell of it. This might be your last weekend alive and you’re going to make the most of it.

xxXxx

Monday comes far too quickly and you’re a little ashamed to admit you’re not feeling your best. You’ve decided it’s easier to accept the idea that you’re not walking away from the test run so that you’re not devastated if and when something goes awry. You spent the entire weekend doing all the things you usually put off for more practical endeavors. The queue on your Hulu and Netflix accounts are clear and you’ve eaten a lifetime of fancy foods. You also learned what good, twenty year old scotch tastes like and it was worth every cent. You probably didn’t need to finish off the whole bottle over the course of three days though. 

You drop your bag into your bottom desk drawer and hand Chelton an envelope when he comes over to greet you. “This is everything,” you tell him, “Passwords, account information, a list of people to contact. If things go sideways I know I can trust you to take care of things for me.”

The older man accepts the envelope but pulls you in for a brisk, uncharacteristic hug. “I’m so proud of you.” he says roughly. 

“Oh come on, pull it together old man.” you tease, “I’ll be back in all of a minute if we’ve done our jobs right.” 

“That’s right, and you’ll have some wild stories for us I’m sure.” 

You join the rest of the research group, letting them know test number one for project Traveler is a go. The room erupts into happy chaos, everyone working at their stations getting the machine up and running. You run through the processes, double checking it for full functionality, and for the first time you start to feel genuine excitement that you might actually be about to go back in time. 

Harris, one of the other original scientists on the project, gives you a run down for a second time, as if you didn’t assist with creating the protocols yourself. “You will have three jump points back to our time once you get there. One month, six months, one year. If for whatever reason you can’t get back on the first jump you still have two more shots to find your way back to us. You have to set up these three devices in the basement of the Strategic Scientific Reserve headquarters when you arrive to keep the link open for the jump points. You cannot lose this brooch or you’ll have nothing to pull you through. When you get there write down the exact time and date so you can ensure you’re at the jump points in time, it’ll be down to the second so be sure you do that first thing.” 

“I know. I’ll be just fine.” you assure him while straightening out the neckline of your smart looking dove grey suit. The team had rustled up a vintage suit for you so that you didn’t stick out like a sore thumb when you got back to 1940. You fasten the antique looking brooch to the breast of it, knowing you’ll need to carry it on you always to ensure you have a way back. The team had decided against wristbands due to how obvious they would be in another time period and had settled on a tie tack or a brooch depending if it were a man or woman going back. 

Harris nodded but carried on, “When you get there ask for Agent Wilson right away. Show him this card and he’ll get you access to one of the SSR aliases and bank accounts. You’ll be set up for as long as you need to be there. But remember, if you make any drastic changes to the past you’ll be forming a split in realities and creating a new timeline. We don’t know what kind of effects that could have. You need to stay under the radar and keep your head down.”  

“Will do. It’ll be okay. I’ll be back in a minute, maybe six if I’m having a good time. You just worry about where you’re taking us all for dinner to celebrate tonight.” 

Harris nods and lets you past him to take your place on the transporter. It’s been five years of tireless work for most of the people in the room trying to recreate and improve upon the machine Tony Stark and Bruce Banner used to send the Avengers back for the infinity stones. You learned so much in the past two years since you joined them. It was the opportunity of a lifetime and you are so grateful to have been given it.

“Okay guys, this is it. Nobody better eat my yogurt in the fridge before I get back.” you say with a wry smile, getting into position in the middle of the machine. 

A few of the guys chuckle while they begin flipping switches on the control panel, readying the transporter.

Chelton returns your smile despite deep worry lines creasing at the side of his eyes, “We’ll see you in a minute.” he says and then he presses the final set of command keys.

You don’t close your eyes, not willing to miss a moment if they’re your last. Everyone’s faces are broadcasting varying mixes of fear, excitement, and hope as you look around your team. It starts out slow, a faint tingling of the hairs on your arms. Like you had rubbed a balloon along them and static electricity had built up. The tingling increases until your whole body is thrumming with a buzzing energy and then the world goes white.

[nettlestonenell]

You can come out from hiding under your desks, now.

Three Reasons You Can Stop Fretting About Peggy Carter in Endgame

It is Nell, Gentle Readers, here to settle your uncertainties and qualm your queasies in the wake of Avengers: Endgame, in particular its finale.

Tumblr (and I) are well-aware at this point (and even, it seems, some covering the fandom-at-large) that Steve’s dance with Peggy in the penultimate moments of Endgame has more than one Peggy and Steggy fan on the edge of their seat—and not always in a good way.

This emotion needs it’s own verb.

Here are the three reasons you’ve got absolutely no excuse to be worried.

But What Happened to Peggy’s Character Development in Agent Carter? Didn’t Steve Just Steal All That from Her? And Her Family? (And US?!?) Did Steve Rogers Just Sort of Murder Peggy’s Children and Grandchildren? In the Name of Love? Did I Just Watch That?

Take a breath, Peggy fan. Thank you for your support of TV-Peggy, but according to Avengers: Endgame’s in-film explanation [and multiple post-opening Russo interviews, if you accept those into canon], nothing done in the past/time heist portion in the film negates what we’ve already seen and know to have happened IN THE MAIN MCU TIMELINE (which I’ll now call ‘ours’). So Peggy DID all the things we saw her do, including become a wife and mom and grandmom and co-create and run SHIELD…and die. That can’t be unwritten or taken away from her. From “Our” Timeline Peggy.

Please put down the gun, Agent. We’ll handle it from here.

Something to notice is that the two guys who wrote Endgame, Markus and McFeely? Well, they’re actually the two guys who are credited as “Created by” for Marvel’s Agent Carter. They served as Executive Producers on the show. They wrote The First Avenger. The Peggy Carter we know (“Our” Peggy) is courtesy them directly building on the comics, for Cap’s first film, AND for the TV show. [We also cannot forget Kevin Feige, who produced The First Avenger and the TV show, AND the 2013 One-shot. Peggy is part of his hard work, too.] These are the guys who cared about and remembered James D’Arcy’s top-shelf performance as TV Jarvis, who said, of all the people they could have picked to include in the biggest movie ever to be released on this planet: yes, we want to put him in our film, most people won’t get it at all, some will get the Jarvis comics reference, and a few—we happy few—will know exactly what is going on and our hearts will grow three sizes in three seconds. This is a choice we make, because we love that show and that story, and those characters.

We as fans love Peggy Carter, yes. But these guys? These guys LOVE Peggy Carter. They’ve placed her centrally into the MCU, they’ve thought about and developed and worked on her and her journey for a decade (even before 2011 when TFA was released) . Is it logical they’d then turn around and just…set fire to the thing? Over-writing and backspacing their story and that character’s development?

And so do McFeely and Markus and Feige, Peg. So do they.

Speaking of that 2013 One-Shot, Have You Seen It?

It was attached to the DVD release of Iron Man 3, and it became a backdoor pilot to the TV series. So? Well, if you’ve watched it, Gentle Readers, you will know that it…cannot be canon if we are meant to accept ONLY Marvel’s Agent Carter TV Series and “Our” Peggy. It’s contradictory, Peggy is not entirely as we’ve come to know her. It’s a different Peggy.

Two interchangeable white men in suits and positions of power? Who ever heard of such trickery!

See, with the time travel rules and notions set up in Endgame, the multiple tellings of Peggy Carter’s story actually…work in greater harmony than ever before. Think about it:

The Peggy Carter in TFA doesn’t have the shaky standing among co-workers and on-going struggle to accept her own worth over how others treat her that is given to/developed for her in Marvel’s Agent Carter TV Show. That new (but necessary to dramatic progress) character beat was created and introduced in the TV show.

The Agent Carter One-Shot Peggy is NEITHER the Peggy nor the SSR agents that we meet and watch in the TV Show.

And the Peggy dancing with Steve in Endgame is NOT “our” Peggy. She’s Peggy at a different point than when we knew her—or, Peggy at the LAST point we knew her, about to change and grow beyond our understanding of her with Steve re-arrival.

She is Peggy (just like the One-Shot is Peggy), same skill-set—but different life experiences.

You Can Choose to Believe What You Like About that Dance.

It’s not going to be elaborated on any more than it has been on film. And here, ultimately, is your saving grace. Here, is the possibility of harmonizing Our Peggy with Branch Reality Peggy. Please thank Kevin Feige and McFeely and Markus for this. For leaving that shot unexplained, inexplicit, but open to eternal speculation.

It is never good to die without finishing a poem. Just ask Coleridge.

And here is what Nell is going to believe about that dance, and why.

Number One: The song choice, yes, it’s a WWII tune, but it could be playing at any time. Nostalgia is strong in all generations, but of course Peggy and Steve might dance to a song from that time—they could dance to that record in 1947 or 1957 or 1967. It’s about memories. So, the song being used as they dance is no real year-locative indicator. It’s timeless.

Number Two: The house. And here’s what I know. The house shown is a California bungalow, built predominately in warm US climates from 1910-1939. It’s a very particular style of house—not one you’d find in New York City (or Brooklyn). We are shown that house, and a small yard—and no other houses or buildings in-shot. So, clearly not in the city. [see Number Three]

Picture for architectural reference only.

The house has a yellow exterior. Is there, um, anybody from the TV Series we associate with the color yellow? Who ALSO had a California bungalow-style house—in California? Whose interior was painted yellow? Could it be this person’s house? And maybe they’re…gone?

You gotta love a man w/ a consistent aesthetic.

Number Three: Keen-eyed viewers of both seasons of the TV Show will recall both a shift in fictional and actual location from Season One being in NYC to Season Two moving to California. With this came a significant shift in cinematography. Suddenly, Agent Carter was sun-infused, the camera leaving things so sun-dappled it sometimes bordered on being out-of-focus.

Above, Season One Agent Carter. An homage to noir.

Above, Season Two Agent Carter. Let the sun shine in.

That’s exactly how the dancing scene was shot.

Conclusion: This scene is set in California, therefore, after Peggy moved there from NYC, as she stated she was about to do in the series finale.

Number Four: Steve Rogers knows the details of “our” Peggy’s life. He would know when she married, to whom, all about her children. He would know her timeline. We can’t know what became of her husband (whom we generally assume to be Daniel Sousa), only that he is absent from photos at her aged bedside. It would be no huge stretch to wonder if he hadn’t been killed working for the SSR. If this were true, Cap would know that as well. Being a widow would not negate Peggy’s children, nor prevent Cap from coming on-board and helping raise them. Or the two of them having children of their own.

No doubt, this photo was on the other side of Peggy’s bed when she was in care.

It’s no great stretch at all to go forward understanding that Cap’s arrival could show up the day after Agent Carter’s series finale episode set around 1947—or even fifteen years later.

Bottom Line? Cap knows more about “our” Peggy’s life than we do, and whenever he chose to stop in and stay [and maybe he co-ordinated it with returning one of the stones, such as in 1970—the dancing clip is rendered timelessly, and will take closer scrutiny to try and date it through Peggy’s dress, hair, and possible wrinkles-given] he would do so in a way so that he (and the writers) would rob Peggy and her family of nothing.*

Because that’s who Steve Rogers (and the screenwriters that created the film version of him and Peggy) is.

Peggy’s known. Peggy’s always known.

*Right after he managed to rescue Branch-Bucky.** **After stealing more Pym Particles as he replaced the Tesseract in 1970.

Sleep tight, Gentle Readers, Cap hasn’t disappointed you—or Peggy. He (and Feige, and McFeely and Markus) have just made it so you can

[dukereviewsmovies]

Duke Reviews: Captain America: The First Avenger

Hello, I'm Andrew Leduc And Welcome To Duke Reviews Where We Are Continuing Our Look At The Marvel Cinematic Universe...

Where Today We Are Looking At The First Movie With The First Avenger, Captain America...

When I Saw The Trailer For This Movie, I Had No Idea Who Captain America Was, I Had Seen The Original Movie With Matt Sallenger When I Was Younger But I Had Absolutely No Memory About It Whatsoever And After Watching The Nostalgia Critic's Review Of It, I'm Glad I Don't...

So I Went To The Comics And Bought An Omnibus Of Captain America Comics With The First Few Issues, And I Liked It To The Point I Couldn't Wait To See The Film In Theatres, However, When I Saw The Captain America Costume I Started To Not Hold Out Much Hope For The Movie As It Didn't Look Like Captain America From The Comics

And The Idea Of The Human Torch Playing Cap Instead Of Someone Who Hasn't Been A Superhero Just Added To That But Luckily, When I Saw The Film I Absolutely Loved It But Is It As Good As I Remember It?...

Let's Find Out As We Watch Captain America: The First Avenger...

The Film Starts In The Arctic, As 2 Agents Of S.H.I.E.L.D. Are Taken To A Ship That Has Been Uncovered By A Russian Oil Team, Lasering Their Way Into The Vessel, The 2 Agents Find The Vessel Iced Over. Discovering What Looks To Be A Red, White And Blue Shield Covered In Ice, One Of The Agents Tries To Contact Nick Fury, Saying That He Has To Know About What They Found...

But Before We Can Find Out, We Go To A Flashback In Norway In The Year 1942, As A Hydra Tank Barges Into A Church, So The Leader Of Hydra, Johann Schmidt (Played By Hugo Weaving) May Enter With Soliders To Find The Tesseract...

(Imitating Agent Smith From The Matrix) Mr. Anderson...

Searching A Tomb, Schmidt Finds Something That Looks Like The Tesseract But As Schmidt Points Out, The Tesseract Was The Jewel Of Odin's Treasure Room And It's Not Something Someone Buries...

Asking The Caretaker Where The Tesseract Is To The Point Of Threatening To Destroy The Entire City, The Man Points To A Big Wooden Wall Carving Of Yggdrasil, The Tree Of The World, Which Is Where Schmidt Finds It...

With The Caretaker Telling Schmidt That He Contol The Power Of The Tesseract And He Will Burn For It, Schmidt Kills The Caretaker Before Walking Out...

Meanwhile In New York, We Go To An Army Enlistment Center Where Steve Rogers (Played By What's Left Of Chris Evans After Playing This Character For Many Movies) Attempts To Join The Army Only To Not Get In Due To His Bad Health..

Going To A Movie Afterwards, Steve Gets Mad At A Guy Who Doesn't Care About The Newsreels And Wants The Cartoons To Roll Which Leads To A Fight Outside Between The 2 Of Them...

Saved By His Best Friend, Bucky Barnes (Played By Sebastian Stan) Who Got Himself Enlisted And Is Shipping Out Tomorrow So, That Night Him And Steve Take 2 Girls (One Being Possibly An Ancestor Of Clara Oswald) To The World Of Tomorrow Expo Where They See A Science Demonstration Done By Howard Stark (Played Here By Dominic Cooper)...

Going To An Army Recruitment Center At The Expo, Bucky Tries To Stop Steve From Enlisting Again (As He's Been Lying On His Enlistment Forms And That's Technically Illegal) But Not Willing To Sit On The Sidelines Anymore, Steve Tells Bucky That He's At Least Got To Try No Matter What The Cost...

Telling His Friend To Be Careful And To Not Do Anything Stupid, Bucky Leaves, Overhearing His Conversation With Bucky, Steve Is Confronted By Dr. Abraham Erskine, A Scientist Who Works For The SSR Who Offers Steve A Chance To Get What He Wants...

Meanwhile At Hydra HQ, Johann Schmidt Has Arnim Zola (Played By Toby Jones) Work On A Machine That Will Transfer The Power Of The Tesseract Into Weaponry For Hydra....

Activating The Machine, Arnim Zola Is Cautious When Raising The Energy For The Transference But Schmidt Is A Patient Man And Places The Machine At Full Power Which Causes A Interesting Effect But It Works...

With The Energy They Have, Zola Tells Schmidt That It Could Not Power All Of His Designs But Change The War As Well As The World...

A Few Days Later At The SSR Base Camp, Steve And A Bunch Of Other Guys Are Briefed By Agent Peggy Carter (Played By Hayley Atwell) And Colonel Phillips (Played By Agent K Himself, Tommy Lee Jones) Who Tell Them About The SSR And How They Will Be Choosing A Man To Be The First In A New Breed Of Super Solider...

Cue The Training Montage!

Well, I'll Admit Steve Isn't Mulan But He Got The Flag!

With Erskine Deciding That Steve Is The Right Man For The Job, Phillips Fights Erskine On It As He Believes That Steve Is A Loser And That A Man Named Hodge Is Better Decision As He Passed All Their Tests, But Looking For Qualities Beyond Physical For This, Phillips Decides To Throw In A Dummy Grenade Which Steve Gladly Takes For His Fellow Soldiers, Saying That He's Still Skinny, Phillips Walks Away...

With The Experiment Happening The Next Day, Erskine Pays Steve A Visit In His Bunk Where He Asks Erskine Why Him? This Leads Erskine To Tell Steve How He Was Recruited By Adolf Hitler Himself To Join The Nazis But Telling Hitler That He's Not Interested, Hitler Instead Sent Schmidt Who Shares A Passion With Hitler For The Occult And Myths...

However Unlike Hitler Who Believes It To Be Fantasy, Schmidt Believes It To Be Real And That There Is Some Great Power Left By The Gods Waiting To Be Seized By Man. Hearing About Erskine's Formula, Schmidt Could Not Resist Taking That Power For Himself, But When Schmidt Took It There Were Unfortunate Side Effects...

Saying That The Formula Amplifies Everything That Is Inside Of The Person, With Good Becoming Great And Evil Becoming Worse, He Says That That Is Why Steve Was Chosen Because A Strong Man Who Has Known Power All Of His Life Will Lose Respect For That Power Where A Weak Man Knows The Value Of Strength And Compassion...

Before Tomorrow, Erskine Has Steve Promise Him One Thing, That He Will Stay Who He Is, Not A Perfect Solider But A Good Man...

Back At Hydra HQ, Schmidt Tells Zola That His Men Have Located Erskine And Tells Zola To Give The Order To Kill Him...

Taking Steve To The SSR's Hideout, Peggy Takes Steve Into A Lab Where The Experiment Will Happen...

Meanwhile At Hydra HQ, Schmidt Is Visited By Some Of Hitler's Generals Which Leads To Him Showing Them The Results Of His Work By Saying That Hydra Is Developing An Arsenal To Destroy Schmidt's Enemies In One Stroke Including Germany, Which Leads To Him Wiping The Generals Out With One His New Weapons...

I Guess We Can Change The Name Of The Musical To Springtime For Red Skull...

With The President Retasking The SSR To Go After Hydra, Steve Wants In But With Erskine's Death, Phillips Considers The Project A Failure As Erskine Promised Them An Army Of Super Soliders And That Just Having Steve Is Not Enough To Win The War.

However, A Senator Believes Different After Both Him And The Country See Steve In Action And Offers Steve Another Opportunity To Serve His Country...By Selling War Bonds....

(Start At 0:22)

And What Can I Say About This? I Absolutely Love It! There's Only One Other Thing That Could Top It And That's If They Played This...

Doing A Performance At An Army Camp That Goes Horribly, Steve Runs Into Peggy Who Reminds Steve That Erskine Wanted Better For Him Than To Just Be A Performing Monkey, Seeing Wounded Soliders Come In From The 107th, Steve Remembers That That Is Bucky's Troop Which Leads Him To Talk With Phillips About If Bucky Survived And Phillips Makes It Look Like He Didn't...

Asking If Phillips Is Planning A Rescue Mission For The Ca, Phillips Tells Steve No As They're 30 Miles Behind Enemy Lines That Are Heavily Fortified And They'd Lose More Men Then They'd Save, But Unable To Accept That Steve Plans A Rescue Mission With The Help Of Peggy And Howard Stark, Who Takes Steve Into Enemy Lines On Board Stark's Airplane...

Parachuting Into Enemy Lines, Steve Boards A Truck That Takes Him Into Hydra Base, Once Inside, Steve Rescues The Missing Soliders Including The Howling Commandos (With Two Of Them Played By Damien Dahrk And Spider-Man's Principal?)...

(Start At 0:31)

With The Soldiers Fighting Hydra And The Base Exploding Around Them, Steve And Bucky Go Up Flights Of Stairs Only To Be Confronted By Schmidt...

(Start At 0:30)

Back At The SSR Camp, It's Believed That Rogers Is Dead But...Yeah, Steve Survived As Well As The Soliders From The 107th Including Bucky...

Meanwhile In Washington, Steve Is About To Get A Medal For Valor By The Senator But Of Course He's Not There...

Stan Lee Cameo!

Returning To The SSR's Headquarters In London, Steve Shows Peggy The Locations Of The Hydra Bases That He Saw On Schmidt's Map While Bucky Tells Them About The Weapons Factories However, Hydra Has Shipped The Parts To His Main HQ Which Is Not On The Map...

Phillips Tells Carter To Coordinate With MI6 (Which Makes Me Wonder If Captain America And James Bond Have Ever Teamed Up) To Look For Schmidt's Main Base, While They Send Rogers To Deal With The Other Bases...

With Phillips Putting Together A Team To Help Steve, Steve Already Has People In Mind Which Leads Him To Recruit The Howling Commandos And Bucky To Help Him...

The Next Day, Steve Goes To Meet With Howard Stark, But While He Waits, He Talks With Margaery Tyrell Which Leads To Her Kissing Steve (And Who Wouldn't Want To Kiss Her) Only For Them To Be Spotted By Peggy Despite Steve Thinking That Her And Stark Had Something Going On...

When Stark Talks With Steve, He Tells Him That There's Nothing Going On Between Him And Peggy Before He Shows Steve Some New Shields Until Steve Finds A Prototype Made Out Of Vibranium...

(Imitating Black Panther) Wakanda Forever!

Which Will Work...

(End At 2:02)

Not Happy With What Is Going On With His Bases, Red Skull Tells Zola To Finish His Mission Before Captain America Does Or Else...

Attempting To Get Zola Back To His Headquarters As Quick As Possible, Zola Ends Up Boarding A Speed Train That Unfortunately Passes By Where Cap And His Crew Happen To Be...

Using A Zip Line, Cap, Bucky And The Other Howling Commandos Board The Train Only To Be Confronted By Hydra Soliders With Major Weaponry...

Major Weaponry That's Powerful Enough To Burst Open A Wall...

After Dealing With The Soldiers, Another One Enters And Blasts Bucky Out Of The Train Only To Leave Him Hanging By A Handle, Attempting To Save His Best Friend Steve Tries To Reach For Him But Unfortunately The Rail Breaks And Bucky Just Falls To His Death...

But In Good News, They Capture Arnim Zola...

Phillips Interrogates Zola Who Doesn't Say A Damn Word Until Phillips Gives Him A Letter That Shows Him That The Red Skull Has Turned On Him And Believes Zola To Be A Liability Which Leads Zola To Spill His Guts On Red Skull's Plan...

Finding Steve In A Cafe That Him And His Friends Went To Before It Was Destroyed, Peggy Finds Steve Having A Few Drinks To Try To Dull The Pain Of Losing Bucky But Like The Flash, Due To His Powers He Can't Get Drunk...

But Peggy Tells Steve That It's Not His Fault And If He Believed And Respected Bucky Then He Should Honor His Decision. Understanding That, Steve Swears To Go To Go After Schmidt And Destroy Hydra...

Steve, Peggy And The Howling Commandos Fight Hydra's Soliders Off, But Eventually Steve Catches Up With Red Skull Only To See Him Take Off In His Massive Plane, But When Phillips And Peggy Commandeer Red Skull's Car, They Attempt To Catch Up With It...

(Captain America) You Remember The Little Red Button?

(Phillips) You Don't Have To Tell Me Twice!

(Pushes Little Red Button)

Catching Up With Red Skull's Ship, Steve Kisses Peggy Goodbye, Before Hopping On Board...

As Steve Sees Missiles Targeted For Every City On The Planet, More Soliders Appear To Fight Steve, With Him Defeating Every Single One Of Them, Before Facing Off Against Red Skull...

(Start At 0:28)

With Peggy Contacting Steve On-Board The Plane, She Tries To Direct Him To A Site To Land But There's Not Enough Time And He Has No Choice But To Force The Ship Down...

Peggy Talks With Steve For As Long As Possible Till His Ship Crashes....

We Get A Montage Of What Happened After The War Including A Scene Where Howard Stark Finds The Tesseract In The Ocean And Peggy Keeping A Picture Of Steve Before Cutting To The Future! As Steve Wakes Up Years Later In A Hospital (That Looks Like It's In The Past) By A Woman (Who Is Supposedly Sharon Carter Except Instead Of Emily Van Camp It's Amanda Righetti From The O.C.) Who Is There To Tell Steve What's Going On...

However, The Game Playing On The Radio, Is A Game Steve Went To Years Ago...

(Start At 1:17)

After The Credits We Get A Sneak Peak Of The Avengers Before The Movie Ends...

And That's Captain America: The First Avenger And I Absolutely Love This Movie...

The 1940s Setting Is Fantastic, I Love The Story, I Love The Characters, I Love The Villain Despite Everyone Saying That He's Lame And Honestly I Have No Idea Why Hugo Weaving Did Not Want To Come Back For A Sequel As Red Skull Is Such A Good Character And A Great Villain In This Movie, I Love The Effects In The Movie With The Hydra Weaponry, The Costumes Are Great And It Is One Of My Favorite MCU Films And I Say See It...

Till Next Time, This Is Duke Saying That Next Week We're Tackling The Avengers!

[takadasaiko]

Second Chances: Chapter Two

FFN II AO3

Summary: Steve has every intention of returning the Infinity Stones to their correct place in the timeline and heading back to his own. His problems start when he makes an impulse decision to jump over to 1946 and Peggy decides to go back home with him. It only gets more complicated from there when Howard tags along with them to 2023. Tony lives fix-it fic. Pepperony.

Chapter Summary: Steve's trip does not go as planned for anyone involved.

Notes: This chapter has major spoilers for Agent Carter S1, but on the flip side if you haven't seen the show (which you should! It's amazing!) you shouldn't have too much trouble following. Any relevant plot points are mentioned.

Chapter Two

He didn't have to be there. He hadn't been involved with the original mission and there were plenty of people that could report back how the whole thing went once it was done, but even if Mr Stark and Ms Potts - Mrs Stark? Pepper? He still wasn't sure - were just trying to distract him while they worked through the long line of doctors that would want to see Mr Stark today Peter wasn't going to say no. It was time travel. Actual freakin' time travel.

"You okay there, Queens?"

Peter looked over, Captain America's voice cutting through his thoughts. "Oh yeah. Definitely! So, catch me up. What happens if you see yourself? Do you break all of time and space?"

"This isn't Doctor Who."

Peter looked over and his eyes widened. "Wow. You don't look the same in person as you do in TV. Mr Hulk. Sir. Dr Banner? I, uh…. did you always wear glasses?"

Captain Rogers and the Hulk exchanges looks that Peter hoped were amused more than irritated. The blond man shook his head and moved over to talk with the man with the metal arm. Huh. Guess he was on their side now? What all had he missed in five years time?

"Tony says you create your own webbing in the lab," Dr Banner prompted, drawing Peter's attention back over to him.

"Yeah. Yes. I do."

"I can give you a quick run through the system that we have while Cap gets ready if you want."

"Really?" the teen all but squeaked as he bounced over to the control board.

"And Bruce is fine," the older man said kindly, offering a small wink. "You're one of us, right?"

"Yeah. It's official and everything. Well, sort of? I guess. Mr Stark made me an Avenger when I showed away in the space ship."

"I bet that went over well."

"No, not really. He was pretty pissed." His gaze drifted over the mechanics. "He's, uh….. going to be okay, right?"

"Tony?" Peter nodded and Bruce purses his lips. "He's ... got a long way to go. My body absorbs gamma radiation better than any other person I've come across and it still did a number on me." He motioned to his arm still fitted in a sling. "That much radiation should have killed him. There's still a chance he'll lose his arm."

"But he'll get better?"

"He's stubborn. I wouldn't bet against him. From what he's told me he should have been dead multiple times over."

"You ready for me?" Cap asked as he stepped up into the single platform, a case in hand and a white suit replacing his uniform.

"You have enough for each of the six jumps, the return home, and you got two extra in case something goes wrong, didn't you?"

"I did. After last time, better safe than sorry."

"No kidding."

"What happened last time?" Peter asked and Bruce looked a little sheepish.

"My past self gave Tony a concussion and they had to improvise." He moved to set the coordinates. "Ready when you are." He waited for the nod. "Alright. See you in ten seconds."

"Be right back," the blond answered, and in a flash of light he was gone.

                                                _____________

Steve has told Director Fury once that after what he had been through, nothing would surprise him. He'd lost ten bucks to him that day and had learned a valuable lesson: things could and would always get stranger and more fantastical than he could dream up. Returning the Space, Mind, and Time stones were easy enough. The Power Stone's hiding place left him with a reminder of just how small he was in the grand scheme of the universe, but returning the Reality Stone left him in awe….. and almost an Asgardian prison. He had left the Soul Stone for last, hoping against hope that maybe it would give back the soul that had been sacrificed and he could use one of those extra Pym Particles to bring Natasha home. Natasha didn't come back, though, and as if to add insult to injury he found himself having to follow a man he had lost everything trying to defeat.

And then it was done, and Captain America was left to his own thoughts. The pain of a lost friend and the sacrificed could-have-beens crash into him and he made a choice. 2023 could wait.

He flipped the dial back and felt the wave wash over him, pulling him through to the other side. It left him standing on a familiar street, Manhattan bustling all around, and a horn honked at him. "Hey, buddy! Outta the street!"

Steve sidestepped, the car only barely missing him, and he stepped back onto the sidewalk. "Hey, mister, whatcha wearing?"

He looked down, and a little boy with freckles covering more of his face than not stared up through coke bottle glasses. He was tiny, thin, and somehow a more familiar sight than any person had been since he'd woken up from the ice. "A costume," he managed.

"Like Captain America?"

"Yeah. Kinda like that."

The kid moved on and Steve turned towards the newspaper stand at the corner. A familiar face stared back from the front page, all charm and suave and Steve couldn't help the way his lips twitched upward as he read the headline: Howard Stark Cleared Of All Charges Fights to Have His Inventions Returned.

"What have you gotten yourself into this time, Howard?" he murmured, catching a few lingering looks from passersbyers. First thing was first. He needed to blend in. Once he did that he would find Howard, and Howard would help him find Peggy. He owed her a dance, and after everything that had happened, he couldn't bring himself to turn away now.

                                               _____________

When his weapons had first been stolen from his home vault Howard had sat through three days of mind-breaking congressional testimonies. Now that it was over and Peggy had helped proved his innocence, the inventor found himself right back to square one, but this time instead of trying to prove that he didn't sell weapons to communists, he was there to argue that the government didn't get to keep them after all was said and done. He groaned to himself and downed his last gulp of water. As the senator drolling on and on, he set the glass down hard enough to stop the man mid-sentence. "As riveting as this has all been, I do have plans tonight."

"Then you're conceding ownership to the US government?"

Howard snorted. "Oh no. I've played nice, Mr Senator. Given you your say and then some, but you can talk to my lawyers. Trust me, my inventions'll be out of your hands by the time I get back to California." With that he stood, straightened his suit jacket, and flashed the balding man a shiteating grin and a wink before swanning out with the stuffy old men shouting at him from behind. Let them shout themselves hoarse. It'd do the country some good, and he had a date. Lola. Lena. Lizzie? He'd remember by the time he got there. If not, Jarvis could remind him.

He breezed through the hallway and out the front door, his steps light as he started down the broad stairs in front of the building. Lorain. That was it. Lorain McKenna.

"Howard."

The voice stopped him dead in his tracks halfway down and he spun towards it. A man stood at the bottom. He was tall, broad, and handsome, even with his face half covered by the cap he wore. Dark brown eyes traveled the figure up and down. He knew that voice. He would have known it anywhere. It just wasn't possible. "Steve?"

Blue eyes met his and there was a very small smile playing at the younger man's lips. "Hi, Howard."

"Holy….. how?" He was moving forward, taking two steps at a time until he nearly tripped over himself. "You're here. You're alive. I knew you were. I've been looking. I've been-"

"Can we get out of the open?"

The inventor glanced around. "Yeah. Yeah, 'course. I know just the place."

                                               _____________

Howard had a driver waiting to pick him up that he called Jarvis. Steve tried not to stare at the man that was obviously Tony's first inspiration for the AI that had been woven into Vision. Likewise, though, he found Jarvis doing plenty of staring of his own, and he heard the British man demand to know if Howard had "mentioned this to Ms Carter yet."

"Where do you think we're going?" Howard popped off and gave Jarvis instructions to drive to the airport before turning to fix his clever gaze on Steve. "So you've gotta have one hell of a story."

"It's…. been a doozie," Steve murmured. "Where is Peggy?"

"New York. Working for the SSR."

Steve tilted his head a little. "What's that?"

"Spycraft. Our girl's still got it. You know she just cleared my name when they'd have hanged me like a traitor? Peg believed in me."

Jarvis made a whiny, noncommittal sound from the driver's seat and Howard shot him a glare. "Says the man who was gonna shoot me outta the sky. Wanna talk about having some faith, Jarvis?"

"No, sir. I'd rather not if it's all the same to you."

Steve chuckled. "Sounds like you've had some adventures of your own."

And that's all it took to send Howard into a full debrief of all of the shenanigans they'd been up to since the war ended. Peggy's time with the SSR, his countless rounds of fondue that made Steve wonder if Tony had any siblings running around out there that he just didn't know about, and right up to the most recent chaos that included a Russian psychiatrist and a leathally trained blonde that had brainwashed Howard to the point that he'd nearly doused Manhattan with a toxic drug that would have killed them all in a truly brutal manner.

He spent the car ride out to the airstrip and the short plane ride from DC to New York City reliving it all. Laughter, tears, and a black eye that Peggy had given him at one point, though he was less willing to explain what had prompted that.

At the end of it they stood outside of a beautiful mansion in New York and Steve turned a questioning look on his friend. Surely he would have known if Howard and Peggy….. anyway, Peggy would never….. right?

"I can see your brain misfiring, my friend. Don't worry. I've never been her type. She's pretty particular," Howard added with a suggestive smirk.

Steve swallowed hard. "We should have called ahead."

"Yeah? And how would that have gone? Hey, Peg, found your man. I'll have him to you in a jif."

The blond snorted a chuckle at that. "Guess so." He could almost feel Howard side eyeing him as they made their way up to the door. "What?"

"I get I'm not the one you want to spill all your secrets to, but Peggy's has it rough since you went down. You should tell her. Whatever it is."

It was such a switch from the teasing tone Howard had been speaking in that it felt not unlike getting socked in the gut and it focused Steve. He would have to tell Peggy… something. It's not like he could just show up, have their dance, and go home. What was he doing? Upending everything. That's what. Peggy would have a husband. A family. She might not have them yet, but she would and really, what were his options? Ruining all of that or saying goodbye all over again. He could stay, even if he didn't care about potentially fracturing the timeline, but he'd promised Tony he'd come back. Strange as it was, after all they'd been through, that held weight. He needed to go home and make sure his friend was okay. Howard's son. Either way he'd have to tell her something about where he had been. She wouldn't just accept that it was complicated.

The front door jerked open and a pretty woman with dark blonde hair came flying out, calling over her shoulder. "Don't wait up, Peg! I'm -" She slammed to a stop, eyes traveling up and down Steve to the point he was starting to feel uncomfortable. "Wait…. no way. Are you-"

"You must be Angie," Howard prompted. "Peg's roommate."

"You're Mr Stark."

"Mr Stark was my father. Call me Howard. Peggy didn't tell me how pretty you are. And you're staying in my house? We should get to know each other."

She looked somewhere between flustered and flattered at Howard's obvious advancements, but it was a voice from inside the house that stole Steve's attention. "Angie? You alright?"

Peggy Carter rounded the base of the stairs and suddenly all four of them were standing in the doorway. Peggy was staring straight at him and all at once Steve was that scrawny kid from Brooklyn that hadn't known how to talk to women, much less a woman like Margaret Carter. He couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, couldn't even think. To his left, Howard motioned. "Surprise, Peg."

"Steve," she breathed, and nothing else mattered.

                                               _____________

It was amazing how much energy he seemed to be expending just by sitting up in bed. He could feel his body trying to nod off, determined to shut down and force him to rest, but his main doctor - a trauma surgeon that Strange knew and that Tony was at least vaguely sure had more of a connection with him than the Wizard had been willing to admit in the brief introduction - was there and Pepper was laser focused on going over recovery and treatment. It was something to keep him semi focused until the kid came back with his report. And he would. Peter was smart as he was talented, but most of all he was eager to please, and that meant he wouldn't get bogged down by anything else when he knew Tony was waiting on what he had to say.

"Dr Banner will be responsible for the continued treatment of the radiation poisoning," Palmer was saying, "while my focus will remain on everything else."

Tony's attention swung back around to her. "When can I start physical therapy to get movement back in my arm?"

Palmer grimaced. "That won't be our immediate focus…."

"I'm an engineer. A mechanic. I need mobility in my hands."

"You want mobility in your hands. What you need is to focus on making as full of a recovery as you're capable of making. Your lungs and heart took a hit. Without getting that damage under control, you'll never make it to the physical therapy that will get you to where you want to go."

Tony opened his mouth to argue, but Pepper reached a hand out, her palm resting against his uninjured leg, and the argument died on his lips. "Just tell us what you'd recommend, Dr Palmer. We'll do it."

The door opened, distracting from whatever nuggets of wisdom Christine Palmer might have wanted to bestow upon them, and Peter stuck his head in. "Oh," he said instantly. "Sorry. I'll-"

"Come on in, kid. Doc here is just explaining how my life is gonna suck for a while."

"Better than dead," his wife points out and Tony tilted his head.

"Can't argue that." Dark eyes flickered to meet a set of slightly lighter brown. "How'd it go? Cap make it back in one piece?"

There was something about the look he wore that made Tony's chest tighten. Peter shook his head. "I'm…. I'm sorry, Mr Stark. Captain Rogers didn't come back. We waited, but he….."

A short, painful breath left him and Tony heard Pepper tightened her hold on him. They both knew what that meant. Something had gone wrong. He'd gone by himself into scenarios in which they'd refused to send just one Avenger alone before and instead of beating the odds, they'd beaten him. .

"Tony?" Pepper murmured, but he couldn't find the words. It hurt. More than he could have expected after everything, and he reached out with his left hand until she took it, her support the only thing holding his raging emotions in check.

Cap was gone, and he wasn't coming back.

                                               _____________

TBC

Notes: I adore Dominic Cooper's version of Howard, but I've never written him before now. I lovehim him. There are so many parallels between late 20's/early30's Howard and late 30's/early40's Tony. So many.

Next time: There's not turning back for Steve now and Tony tries to manage expectations for his recovery.

[imjustthemechanic]

Glockenspiel

Part 1/? - Transmission Part 2/? - The Sandhill Hotel Part 3/? - Piccadilly Part 4/? - The Future

“Isn’t it obvious?” asked Howard.

“No, it’s not obvious at all,” Peggy told him.  HYDRA having a time machine opened up enough cans of worms to fill a grocery store.  They might go back and murder Steve before he could become Captain America.  They might steal the secrets of the atom bombs and deliver them to Nazi Germany or Imperial Japan.  Peggy could probably fill a book with the awful possibilities, and these escaped HYDRA operatives doubtless knew things she didn’t.

“Sure it is,” said Howard.  “All we have to do is go back, and we can stop this from ever happening in the first place.  It shouldn’t be hard.  We’ve got seventy years to do it.”

“Or!”  Toulouse held up a finger.  “You might create the very future you’re trying to avoid!  That happens in movies all the time!”

“I’ve got a headache already,” sighed Peggy.  This was too much to take, even for her – she needed to sit down.  The hotel room Toulouse had gotten them was spacious and nicely furnished, with a sofa and chair at one end, facing a black glass panel mounted on the wall that Peggy could only assume was an extremely pretentious piece of art.  At the other were a pair of enormous beds.  Peggy went and sat down on the sofa, and took a deep breath.

“The first thing to do,” she decided, “is to find whoever’s running the SSR these days.  Toulouse, do you happen to know?”  She probably didn’t.  It was an American organization and Toulouse was British, and anyway, the SSR liked to keep out of the spotlight.  Many people seemed to think it had disbanded after the war.

“There isn’t an SSR anymore,” Toulouse replied  “There was SHIELD, but they’re gone now.  It was run by a guy named Fury, but he’s dead.  Mysterious car accident,” she added.  “Everybody knows it was an assassination, though.”

Peggy frowned, thinking.  “Zola was in SSR custody.  The man we met in there must be from at least a little while in our own future, because he couldn't have gotten away from his escorts to use the machine again... he might even be from a few years ahead.  So we do have to return to our own time, and make sure he doesn't get the opportunity.”  That would be at least a start, although the full ramifications of this would take more time to deal with.  “Do you think you can build a time machine?” she asked Howard.

“Probably,” he said, coming to lean on the sofa from behind.  “But as in the case of the Rift Generator, it'd be much easier just to steal one.”

Peggy nodded grimly.  “So we have to sneak back into that hotel.”

“Why do we have to sneak?” asked Toulouse.  “Daddy owns the hotel.  If I can just get in touch with him and tell him they’re in there, he’ll send somebody to chase those men out and we can just walk right in and use the thing.”  She picked up the slab-phone again.  “Let me ring him.”

“Wait, Toulouse,” Peggy reached out to stop her.  “Are you absolutely sure your father’s not involved in this?  I know that must be a painful question for you…”

“Daddy?  Of course not,” said Toulouse.  “He was promoted to Deputy Prime Minister because he wasn’t involved in the whole HYDRA thing while the fellow he replaced was.  They put him in charge of the investigation committee and the Queen gave him a special honour for it.  If there’s Nazis in his basement he’ll want to do something about it, I promise you.”

That sounded very reassuring, but Peggy still didn’t want to absolutely trust this man she’d never seen.  Come to that, she wasn’t sure she trusted Toulouse, either.  “Maybe don’t mention the time machine part,” she decided.

“I’ll just tell him about the cows,” Toulouse decided.  She entered a number and waited impatiently while it rang.  “Harvinder?  Oh, thank goodness.  I need to talk to Daddy.  It’s an emergency.”  There was a brief pause as whoever she was talking to replied.  “I don’t care if he’s in Honk Kong, Cape Town, or Saskatoon!” said Toulouse.  “This is important.  There is some seriously weird shit going on in the new Piccadilly!”

“I’m going to wash up,” Peggy decided.  It had been a long day, first on dusty roads in the foothills and then sweating in the warm, close environment of the walk-in safe.  She needed a shower.

“Don’t take too long,” Howard said.  “I want to go next.”

Peggy automatically expected a hotel bathroom to be tiny, but this one was huge.  There was an enormous tub, two sinks, a giant mirror, and lots of fluffy white towels.  It looked like a lovely place to relax for a evening, but even if Howard hadn’t asked her to hurry she knew they didn’t have that kind of time.  She therefore limited herself to a shower, though she ran the water scalding hot and washed her hair twice.

She emerged in a thick white robe with another towel around her hair, to find Toulouse had taken out that silver thing she’d been keeping in the walk-in safe and had opened it like a book, propping it on the desk.  One side of it was a sort of flat typewriter, while the other displayed a moving image, and Toulouse was staring intently at it as her fingers flew over the keys.  Howard, meanwhile, was mesmerized by the black glass panel on the wall, which was also showing images.  It was some kind of miniature cinema screen, Peggy realized, showing colour newsreel footage.

“Okay, here we go!” Toulouse announced.  “Good news.  Looks like both of you make it back to the 1940s just fine!  Howard Stark died in a car accident along with his wife in 1991…”

“My wife?” Howard asked, looking over his shoulder in startlement.  “I got married?”

Peggy wasn’t quite shocked, since she’d always assumed he’d have to settle down sooner or later, but it was still a surprise to get confirmation of it.  “Good heavens,” she said.  “Next you’ll be telling me…” she paused, glancing sideways at Howard.  He’d hinted that his own father hadn’t been very good at it.  Would he… she decided not to ask just yet.  “What about me?”

“You’re still alive, but you’re retired,” said Toulouse.  The text on the device in front of her was scrolling past too quickly to follow.  “You were married twice and outlived both of them, had two kids and outlived one of them, too, and helped keep everybody from dying in the Cuban Missile Crisis.”

“Good to know I continue to do my job,” said Peggy.  There was a thought, she realized – if she could find out where her older self was living, she could visit her.  Would that cause a paradox and destroy the world?  Her future self would not appreciate that after a lifetime spent saving it, so best not to go there.  She leaned to take a closer look, but then Toulouse’s little telephone, now lying on the table next to the typewriter device, started playing music.  Toulouse squeaked and grabbed it to put it to her ear, and Peggy had to straighten up in a hurry so as not to be smacked in the face.

“Daddy?” Toulouse asked.  “Oh, finally!  Listen, have I got a story to tell you!  Those men in the basement are not electricians, they’re some kind of weird conspiracy.  They’ve got a machine that’s making cows or something!”  She covered the bottom of the device and looked at Peggy.  “Should I tell him they were locking people in the safe?”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Peggy decided.  “The fewer people know we’re here, the better.”  Even if Mr. Sandhill wasn’t a member of HYDRA himself, there was no telling who he might mention the incident to.  Somebody at his hotel company must have suggested to Zola that the men could get in under the pretense of electricians.

Toulouse nodded and put the phone back to her ear.  “No, Daddy, cows.  Yes, moo!  And there’s a car that came right through the lobby windows with no driver.”  There was a short pause.  “No, a car!  Cows don’t need drivers!”

Peggy suspected this phone call would take a while.  She went and sat down next to Howard on the couch.

“The washroom is free,” she noted.

Howard jumped a little – he’d been so wrapped up in what he was seeing on the cinema screen, he hadn’t even noticed her sit down.  “Peg, look at this!” he said, gesturing to the wall.  “It’s a personal theatre!  It can show you all kinds of things.  You can get films, you can get cartoons, newsreels, serials, all in your home!  Toulouse doesn’t know who invented it.  I hope I did.  If I didn’t, when we go back I will.”

The image on the screen showed aerial footage of a large ship, still blackened and smoking from a recent fire, being towed into a harbour not by a tugboat but by some tiny, unidentified object.  It switched, then, to a man who was recognizably a reporter with a microphone, standing on top of a building with the ship visible in the water behind him.  He turned to interview what was either an astonishingly advanced machine or else a man wearing some kind of red and gold armor.

“See that?” Howard pointed to the corner.  “It says live.  We’re watching this as it happens on the other side of the world!  This is in Canada!”

Sure enough, a caption at the bottom of the screen read LIVE: Iron Man tows burning tanker into Vancouver.  The being in the armor reached to remove its helmet.

“You tune it with this,” Howard went on, holding up an object about the size and shape of a candy bar.  He pressed a couple of buttons on it, and the image changed – from the news, to footage of sharks swimming, to South Asian people in fabulous costumes dancing, to a group of men and women sitting arguing in a restaurant.  “This is wild.  I always hoped I lived a long life, just so I could see what the future brings – now here I am, and I get to go back knowing what’s possible and maybe help it along a bit!”  He grinned.

“Here I thought you'd be disappointed in the lack of flying cars,” said Peggy.

“Only a little,” Howard assured her.  “The cars are beautiful, aren't they?  They look like they could fly, even if they don't.”

Peggy thought they were hideous, all streamlining and no elegance, but she didn't say so.  “The washroom is free,” she repeated.

“Oh, right,” he said.  “There’s another robe, right?”

“There is,” Peggy assured him.

He turned off the theatre with a look of honest regret, and went to wash up.  Peggy looked over her shoulder at Toulouse, but the young woman was still on the phone.

“Anyway,” she was saying, “I told the police there was a bomb in the hotel, because I figured they wouldn’t think cows were serious and after that thing in Sheffield they probably wouldn’t believe me if I said there was a conspiracy in the basement…”

Yes, this was going to take some time.  Peggy decided she needed a breath of fresh air.  She got up and went out on the balcony to take another look at the city.

The suite had a large terrace with a private pool, chairs and tables to sit at, and a few small garden beds.  Peggy passed them by and went to lean on the railing, the better to appreciate the view.  It was properly night now, with a half moon hanging low over the city and the whole place glittering with lights.  The last time Peggy had seen London in the dark, it had still been blacked out for fear of German bombers.  Seeing it all lit up like this was strange in itself, but still not nearly as strange as the city itself.  The giant ferris wheel and the towering glass buildings beyond didn’t even look like England, let alone London.  The skyscrapers would have been out of place even in New York.  One had a graceful spiral twist to it, looking rather like an enormous Christmas ornament.  Another resembled a pyramid stretched out to impossible proportions by a funhouse mirror.  They looked like something from the cover of one of those science fiction magazines Agent Penner liked to read.

But there was the outline of Big Ben, brightly lit against the dark sky.  There was the Waterloo Bridge, and if Peggy leaned very far forward she could just see the turrets on top of the Tower.  This was London, certainly, but it was London utterly transformed, the familiar bones wearing a new and alien skin.

This was the first real moment of quiet Peggy had been allowed since this all began in the bunker outside Los Angeles, twelve hours and seventy years ago, and now that she had the opportunity she did her best to try to digest the situation.  The future!  Seventy years was a lifetime – people who’d been small children when she’d left were now on their deathbed.  Most likely anybody she’d ever known was long dead, and from what Zola and Toulouse had said about the SSR and its successor organization SHIELD, there wasn’t even an institution they could go to for help.  A time traveler in the 1940s would have come to the SSR’s attention, to be met with either help or opposition depending on the individual’s agenda.  Who took care of such things in the 2010’s?

“Peggy!” called Toulouse’s voice.

She looked up.  Toulouse was standing in the French doors, waving at her.

“I’m coming!” Peggy said.  She took a couple of deep breaths to compose herself, and then headed back indoors.  She’d had her moment to digest, and now it was time to deal.

Back in the room, Howard was getting out of the shower, and Toulouse was back at her typewriter device, her fingers flying over the keys composing a letter to one of her professors, while at the same time her mouth chattered about their current situation.  “Somebody’s going to collect my things and bring them here,” she said, “so that’s taken care of, and I managed to wear Daddy down.  He’s gonna send Prince to investigate.”

“Prince?” asked Peggy.  Was that the name of a dog?

“Like the Artist,’ said Toulouse with a nod.  “He’s my big brother – my half-brother, to be exact.  His Mum was Daddy’s first wife  Mine was his third.”

“How many has he had?” asked Howard.  For once Peggy was glad he’d said something, because her first question would have been to ask what kind of person names their children Prince and Toulouse.

“Six,” said Toulouse, as if this were quite ordinary.  “Don’t worry, he didn’t behead any of them.  Now,” she went on, “it’s late, so he won’t bother being there until tomorrow.  That means we can get up early, go in, and send you guys back to the 1940s, done!  Then Prince and I can clean up, and Daddy can get another award from the Queen for thwarting a plot against the throne!”  She seemed to think it would be quite simple.

Peggy knew better.  “Once we’re back inside the hotel,” she said to Howard, “can you repeat whatever it is you did in California?”

“I’m not sure what I did in California,” Howard admitted.  “I think there must have been a residual charge in the coils and my touching the wire caused a short circuit.  Once I’ve had a chance to study it, I’ll be able to figure it out.”  He smiled, proud.  “You know me.  The only thing I’m better at than building stuff is figuring out how other people’s stuff works.”

“Then I just hope it’ll be that easy,” said Peggy.  Once they got back, the real work would begin – keeping tabs on Zola, and figuring out what this all had to do with die Glocke.

[loverontheleft]

Ready to Leap (4)

AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut anticipated. Chapters 1-3 can be found on my Masterlist.

Brendon x reader. Warnings: language and implied sexual situations. ALSO SOME KILLER FUCKING DIALOGUE; I LITERALLY HIGH-FIVED MYSELF A FEW TIMES (I looked like a goddamn seal). Lesson of the day: it’s important to notice your strengths and validate them.

Word count: 4.2k. Also, I tried some new formatting with the internal thoughts; honestly I was just too lazy to italicize them in the first three chapters but if y’all have a preference just lmk. I don’t think I love it but I’ll do what you want.

—————————————————————

“MS. MILTON. DO YOU KNOW WHAT I HEARD?” You wince at Jessica’s volume.

“Too early to be so loud Jess. We’re in 1st block and you’re at 3rd block volume.”

“I HEARD THAT YOU AND MR. URIE WERE MAKING OUT ON THE MARCHING BAND FIELD YESTERDAY.”

“That’s not true,” Caroline argues from across the room. “They kissed but they weren’t making out.”

“Well, I heard they hooked up.” You can’t tell who that is. Probably Eric.

Caroline comes to your defense. “No, you guys, they only kissed!”

“No, they definitely hooked up.” Brian smirks from the back row. “I saw it.”

You’re done with this. “Everyone.” They freeze at the tone of your voice. You never raise it; you don’t have to. “First, all of you are wrong. I brought him a water bottle. Second, consider your environment. This is a classroom and a place of learning. Respect it as such. Your current topic is inappropriate.” You’re calm and you look at everyone in their desks. “I don’t want to hear anything else about it, understood?”

“I’m just saying Ms. Milton, no one would judge you. He’s so sexy.”

“Jessica!” That’s Caroline. Bless her.

“I mean have you seen his face?” Anna is joining in now. “And his butt? Lord!”

“Anna!” Caroline is probably planning to become a teacher. Or a nun. You’re not sure which.

“He’s super hot Ms. Milton, you should get it.”

“Beth!”

“Ladies! What did I just say?” You’re annoyed now. They can tell. They turn back to face you, chagrin clear on their faces. “I’ll ask again. Am I understood when I say I don’t want to hear anything else about it?” The entire class nods. “Good. Moving on. We’re going back to Beowulf, Canto 11. Brian, you’re up first.” A groan from the back. “You had plenty to say about me, I want to hear what you have to say about Grendel in Canto 11. Don’t make me ask again.” Your voice is level but they can hear the restraint. Everyone, including Brian, knows better than to fuck with you right now.

The rest of class goes much more smoothly, and you feel your shoulders drop. The bell rings. Maybe second block won’t be so - ah, shit. “Ms. Milton, do you know what they’re saying about you and Mr. Urie?” Emily’s eyes are wild and she’s come flying into the room with Stacy and Josh, two other band kids, right behind her. You hold up both hands, hoping to cut her off but it’s no use. “They’re saying you KISSED.”

You laugh. “Oh, is that the worst you’ve heard?” Her jaw drops and you continue. “You three were there and you saw that nothing happened. Don’t let what other people say bother you. I’m fine.” You smile reassuringly and Stacy looks unsure. “Really.”

“Well. If anything did happen -” Stacy starts, and Josh cuts her off.

“The band leadership board supports it.” You act quickly and stifle your laughter. Maybe the worst is a twitch of your lips. Good to know you have their blessing. “After you left, Mr. Urie let us go home 15 minutes early. He’s never done that.” Josh looks impressed.

Hope he went home to take a cold shower after that eyefucking you gave him; you know you did, that white shirt plastered to his chest with sweat had you all - BRAIN. FUCK. Knock it off. “Well, thank you guys. That’s kind of you. I’m sure I had nothing to do with you getting to leave early; you probably earned that with your hard work.” The three of them look at each other and it’s clear they don’t believe you. “Anyway.” You make eye contact with each of them. “If the class isn’t quiet during SSR because they’re discussing this rumor, you three are going to shut it down, yes?” They all nod eagerly. “Good. Thank you.”

There’s some chatter, but the three of them and a few other band kids in your second block quell the gossip and you transition to Beowulf with more ease than first block. You have good students, all in all. The annoying ones don’t ruin it for everyone, and you count yourself lucky.

When the bell rings for third block, you snatch the print-out of the pop quiz you’re giving tomorrow and book it to the copier. You’re feeling lucky; today’s a good day; you’re only going to say nice things to the stupid fucki-...hardworking and tired machine. You round the corner and the juxtaposition of your emotions is harsh. On one hand, Brendon’s back is to you. On the other, he’s writing a sign that says “Out of Order” and taping it to the stupid fucking bitch machine. It’s like your heart went on Tower of Terror. Yanked up, then sent crashing down. Fuck.

“Nooooooo,” you moan, sliding to the floor. He turns, sees you, and smiles wanly.

“I’ve done my best and I can’t get it. I let Jess in the main office know, so hopefully we’ll get a repair guy out here later this afternoon.”

“In time for me to make copies of a pop quiz I’m giving tomorrow?” You look desperate. Copy machines in this school are on strike, if Brendon can’t get this one to work and the repair guy doesn’t come, you’re fucked. He shrugs and offers you a hand.

“Come with me.” You take it and let yourself be pulled to your feet.

“Brendon, cookies won’t fix this.” He grins and shakes his head.

“I have something better than cookies.” You gasp playfully but you follow him back to his office inside the band room. “I have this.” He points to the corner and you turn to him in awe. And then, you’re annoyed.

“You jerk!” You hit his chest lightly. “You’ve been hiding your own copy machine?” He grins and catches your wrist.

“I’ve been saving the public copy machine and saving you time by not making you walk all the way here to me.” You consider this. “It’s for all of the sheet music I have to print. The school didn’t want me holding people up by using teacher’s lounge copiers, so this was a gift from the Band Boosters. You’re welcome to it for as long as you need.”

“This walk isn’t bad. I’d walk a lot farther to get to you.” Fuck. That was out loud. You walk briskly to the machine and start running copies, your head down, praying the comment will go over his head.

He makes a thoughtful sound and says nothing else for a moment. Then, out of nowhere: “You’re wearing pants today.” You give him a weird look over your shoulder. “You can climb the tower this afternoon then. I mean,” you glance again when he pauses and he looks almost nervous. “If you don’t have anything better to do.”

You turn fully, leaning back against the machine. “It’s a Tuesday. What else could I possibly have to do?” He shrugs and you just want to go hug him, he’s blushing and he looks so insecure right now.

“I don’t know, I mean, maybe you’ve got plans with some-”

You cut him off. “I don’t have any plans. With anyone except for you now. I’ll be there.” He breaks out into a smile and the confidence is back. He eyes your outfit and tells you you look good. Your turn to blush. “It’s different. I mean, I am just so used to the skirts…” you trail off, running a finger over the pattern on your ankle pants.

He shrugs. “You look great all of the time. I mean...the students say so. Someone joked you’d win Best Dressed for the senior superlatives.” He grins. “And yeah, it’s a departure from your normal look, but it’s not a bad one by any means.” You’re not sure what to say.

“Thanks.” You collect the copies and look at him and the door. “Any other secret food-based missions we’re going on today?”

He shrugs. “Nothing on my calendar.” Your eyes meet and you blush again. Why are you like this? It’s never been weird before. Those stupid rumors.

“Have you heard th-”

He interrupts you. “The rumors that we kissed and/or made out and/or had sex on the marching field yesterday?” You feel your shoulders drop and you exhale. “Yeah I have.” He looks up at you and grins. “I’d like to think the two of us have a little more class than to go at it on the field.”

You laugh, and the tension is broken. “It’s like they don’t know us at all.”

He stands, stretching. “Exactly. Come on Milton, let’s go get a cookie.”

Turns out there’s a fridge in the student council room too, and you both audibly gasp with glee when you see the carton of 2% milk. You turn to him, looking conflicted, holding a ten dollar bill in your hands. “It’s only Tuesday. Debbie will notice before Friday that they’re running low, right?”

He nods seriously. “She comes in here every day during 4th block. We’ll be fine.” You tuck the ten under the coffee pot and look at him expectantly. He looks back. “Am I making the cookies?” He seems amused when you nod. “Y/n, you know they’re not really better because I dropped the hunks of frozen dough onto the hot surface, and you didn’t, right?”

You shrug, filling two mugs with milk. “But why risk it?” He laughs at your serious expression and gives in, dropping the dough and setting the timer.

“Alright Milton, spill.” You look dubiously from him to the mug of milk in your hands and he rolls his eyes. “Not what I meant. You know,” he nudges your hand with his mug lightly, “your story. It’s been a whole two weeks and I know your name, what you teach, your age, you’re single, and your favorite movie. And,” he grins, “sometimes you disappear on me. I look over and you’re just staring into space.”

You blush. Oh, I could tell you where I’m at, all you have to do is ask. Shut. Up. Brain. “I’m not great with giant vague topics. What do you want to know?”

“Well, I know this isn’t your first year teaching. Where were you before this? What brought you here?”

You look up at him through lowered lashes. “I killed a man.” You can tell from his eyes he doesn’t know whether to believe you or not and you burst out laughing. “Dang Urie, they did a background check on both of us to get hired, remember?” He nudges you again and you fold. “I taught in Texas for 5 years. I grew up there. My parents died when I was 10 and my grandma passed in early February two years ago. Couldn’t stand to be in the area so I moved from Austin to Amarillo. So when my ex from Austin showed up, I did what I do best.” You give him a rueful smile. “I ran.” He is looking at you so softly and you feel the need to comfort him. “I mean. He wasn’t abusive or anything like that. It was just a messy end and he wanted to get back together and I couldn’t - well, wouldn’t. I respect myself too much.” He gives you an encouraging smile. “But he didn’t like hearing ‘no,’ and kept showing up and I just got tired of it. So I called my best friend, she came from Austin, and we starting packing up my apartment. I gave my notice of not continuing my lease, declined to renew my contract, and I sent out my teaching resume, said I’d move really anywhere, and liked y’all the best. So here I am. New start.” He nods slowly, considering this. “What about you? How did Mr. Brendon Urie end up in glamorous Putnam, Connecticut? I know you’re not from here; Tracy in the English department knows everyone and everything from Putnam and she’s got nothing on you except you’ve been here for five years. Hermit.” You point at him playfully.

He shrugs. “I’m a west coast transplant too. Napa Valley, born and raised. Just got tired of it, I guess. Did the same thing as you; except I’ve done all five years here. Got my teaching license and sent out the resume nationally.”

You look at him in disbelief. “You got tired of Napa Valley, where the air smells like wine and the sun is shining almost all the time?” He shrugs again, meeting your gaze. He certainly doesn’t look like he’s got anything to hide. “Okay then.” You nod decisively.

He glances at his watch. “I don’t want to steal all of your planning period. Mine is really a break; we have band after this, so my prep work is minimal. You have to teach.” He looks cautious and you wave away his concerns.

“I’m an insomniac and I’m here when the building opens at 5. I’m super productive in the morning so this is also my break.” He relaxes a little.

“Next question.” He pauses. “I’m going back over the annoying ones your kids asked. Uh. Where do you get your clothes?” He grins. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like someone’s daydream from 1950. You know, the pencil skirts, the sheath dresses...”

You laugh. “That’s the best one I’ve heard yet. My best friend, the one who helped me pack, is a seamstress and she works for the performing arts center in Austin. We both have a very particular style, so she’s made all of my skirts and dresses. The tops and pants are from wherever.” He looks impressed.

“That’s really cool.” He thinks for a moment. “What music do you like?”

You consider. “I’ll really listen to anything. I like most everything, but give the choice, I’ll usually go with some form of alternative pop/rock. Oh, and showtunes. I’m a huge Broadway nerd. Being so much closer to the city is amazing. 3 hours in the car is nothing.”

He nods. “I love Broadway. Do you have a favorite show?”

You groan. “That’s like asking me to pick a favorite child.”

“Wait, do you have kids?”

“Nope. Unless you count the 73 I see on a daily basis.” You grin at him. “Favorite show...favorite show. Uhm. I relate so much to If/Then, but I also love Next to Normal. Fuck, I can’t choose. That creative team is so talented.” You must really look distressed because he places his hand over yours and you shiver at the contact.

“You don’t have to choose a favorite. I’ve seen both of those and they are incredible.” You return the question to him and he thinks for a moment. “Of the classics...probably RENT. Of the contemporaries...Maybe Book of Mormon?” You nod approvingly and he checks his watch again. “We’ve got time for one more if we want to sneak out between lunches. Speaking of lunch, what’s your favorite food?”

“Again, favorite child scenario. I love all food.” You grin and pop the last bite of cookie in your mouth. He laughs and stands up. “And yours?”

He smiles. “Same answer but I’m going to attempt partial credit and give you a restaurant suggestion. The Stomping Ground on Main Street if you haven’t been already. So fucking good.” He extends a hand and you take it, rising to your feet and you leave the room. You stealthily move from the front of the cafeteria to the back, though stealth might not be necessary since the cafeteria is empty except for staff, and you slip through the arts hall door. You pause at his room and he gives you that crooked smile that makes you warm all over.

“I’ll see you later Milton. Practice starts at 4:30 and we’re done at 7:30. Glad you wore pants so I can get you on my tower.” He gives you a quick wink and then he’s disappearing into the room. You’re certain you’re blushing. He knew what he was doing that time. He had to have known.

The fourth block gossip circuit isn’t as bad and yet, in some ways it’s worse. There aren’t any band kids in this class, so no one has even somewhat accurate stories by this point in the day. As a result, the stories are so outrageous, even the students repeating them don’t seem to believe it. They do seem to like Beowulf though.

The bell rings and it’s 3:35 and they’re flying out the door. You’ve officially got an hour til marching band practice starts and that might be just enough time when you factor in traffic.

You end up being exactly right; you’re pulling in beside what you assume is Brendon’s car and it’s, according to your car, 4:20. You open the door, muttering “blaze it” to yourself and grab the cooler from the backseat. You wore shoes with more traction this time so getting down the hill and dragging the cooler isn’t half as bad as yesterday.

He meets you at the base of the tower. “What’s all this?” He looks behind you at the cooler and back at you. “You look great by the way.”

You give him a weird look. “I literally haven’t changed since you saw me two and half hours ago…you on the other hand…” he’s changed into something similar to yesterday’s outfit and he shrugs, either not noticing or reacting to your appreciative glance.

“Thought you should hear it again. What’s in the cooler?”

You smile and bite your lip, feeling the blush creep up your face. His question finally processes. “Oh. I brought you water yesterday so I brought them water today. And snacks! For when they’re done for the day of course.” He looks so happy. It’s a small band, maybe fifty students tops, so this wasn’t a big deal - two packs of water, a bag of ice, and two variety packs of granola bars. You tell him this and he shakes his head.

“No, it is a big deal. I appreciate it. So much.” If you could capture the look on his face right now, you’d look at it every day for the rest of your life.

“It’s the least I can do since I’m hijacking your copier for the foreseeable future. The repair guy didn’t come today.”

He pretends to look annoyed. “Oh no, you’ll be coming to see me all the time and I’ll have to talk to you. Gross.”

You laugh. “I’m not coming for you, Urie,” fuck; phrasing, do better brain, and this time it’s a serious fuck-up because he smirked and raised one eyebrow - fuck fuck fuck. “I’m coming to see that copier of yours.”

“You’ve wounded me. I’ll never recover.” He looks around. Marissa is the only student even remotely nearby; everyone else is unpacking their instruments and talking to others. You can tell she’s waiting for instructions. “Marissa, please start the group warmups. I want the trumpets at least 20% louder, let them know, please. You can use your judgement with the others. Listen closely and remember what we talked about in identifying the ones who are sharp and who are flat. Now go get’em.” She nods eagerly and he sends her off with an encouraging smile. He turns to you. “She’s an excellent drum major and a very gifted flutist. She’s only a junior, so she’s got time, but she’s looking at Berklee in Boston, Juilliard, and Oberlin. I think she’s gonna get in at all of them but I’m biased.” He grins and shakes his head a little. “Sorry. I’m bragging. Let’s get up there. After you.”

You turn to give him a playful grin. “Trying to get a good view, Urie?” Oh, you are shameless.

“No!” He looks horrified. “Honestly, it’s a safety thing. I don’t want you to slip and fall without anyone to catch you.”

“Oh. Well thank you in advance for catching me. I’m accident-prone and I will fall.” You are sure you look embarrassed, not considering the safety of it and saying what you said out loud.

He smirks. “Well I’ll catch you as needed. Also the view thing might also be true, yeah.” You’re laughing as you climb the ladder and he scampers up behind you, sunglasses in place and an extra pair you hadn’t noticed before tucked in his shirt collar. “Here you go.” He hands the other pair to you. “It can get kind of bright when the sun starts to set, if that makes sense.” You nod and accept them gratefully. “Now Ms. Milton.” You look up at him and he looks very serious. “I’d like for you to listen to the trumpets and give me some feedback, and then I want your general opinion on the show.”

“I think I can do that.” Just as the words leave your mouth, the warmups start and as promised, Marissa has the trumpets louder. You smile appreciatively and nod as they run through their scales. “They have a lovely tone. You’ve got one or two who are sharp.” You both wait and Marissa, without hearing you, gives the same feedback. It isn’t long before the show is starting and you’re honestly blown away. You’re leaning slightly over the edge to watch, and your jaw is dropped. Eyes wide, you turn to him excitedly, hitting his arm repeatedly. “Did you see that?!” He grins and nods. The band transitioned seamlessly from interwoven triangles to a full company forward march and it was stunning - you’d never seen it done that well before. “Brendon, this music!” Your eyes are welling up. The show is called Heroes and Villains and what started with a jazzy Superman theme and a riff on The Incredibles has been a wild ride; you’ve just been transported from a full-band, raging interpretation of Dies Irae with something you can’t quite place before it to a soft, lone trumpet playing Taps. “This is gorgeous. Really.” He smiles softly.

“Do you really think so?” You look at him in surprise.

“Uh, yes! It’s amazing!” His smile gets a little bigger but he tries to contain it. It dawns on you. “Did you do this arrangement?” He just looks at you, beaming, and you poke him in the side. “Brendon I don’t know your middle name Urie, did you do this arrangement?” When he nods, you shriek. “Brendon! Damn you for being both so talented and attractive it’s not fair! This is truly incredible, really.”

He grins at you. “You said I’m attractive.” You roll your eyes and shove him lightly. You did say that. Fuck. You wave a hand in front of his face.

“Focus on what’s important here, Urie.” He nods and grabs his megaphone.

“Sounded great everyone. Pack up and enjoy your Tuesday night. Make good choices. Ms. Milton brought water bottles and snacks for you, so grab something on the way out.”

You and Marissa are both staring at him. “Mr. Urie it’s 4:50...we only warmed up and ran it once…” her voice is cautious like she wants her Tuesday night but also doesn’t want to risk her Superior ranking at State. Everyone else meanwhile is either packing up or already packed and flying up the hill.

He beams down at her and drops the megaphone. “And it sounded great. You did wonderfully. Now call that guy you like, Jason or Justin or whatever and let him know you’re free.” She’s gaping at him and he just grins and makes a shooing gesture. “Go on. Text him if you must but make contact. Go go go.” The teenage girl in Marissa’s brain takes over and she’s off the podium, stuffing things in her bag, and racing toward the parking lot. You turn to head down the ladder and he stops you with a grin. “I set them free, not you.” You shiver a little, enthralled. Okay. You’ll bite.

“Fair enough. Okay, first of all, that opening with Superman as a jazz rendition was so fucking cool and it blended into The Incred-what are you doing?” He’s got one hand on your waist and he’s drawing you closer, eyes blazing.

“Focusing on what’s important.” And his lips are on yours and you’re pretty sure this is real. You moan and arch into the kiss, reaching a hand up to get his hat off so you can run a hand through his hair, pulling gently. He gasps into your mouth and his teeth tug at your lower lip, the hand on your waist bringing you closer still.

“God, Urie,” you sigh against his lips and he pauses, using his other hand to cup your face.

“Yes, Milton?”

“Oh thank god. This is real.” You kiss him again, flicking your tongue out over his and when he responds eagerly, really exploring your mouth, you feel your knees start to buckle. You cling to his shirt and he tightens his hand on your waist, wrapping his arm around you now and holding you up and against him. “Told you I’d fall.” You whisper this and he smiles down at you.

“Told you I’d catch you.”

[enkelimagnus]

Propaganda

Bucky Barnes Gen, 1189 words, rated T for Hydra shit

Jewish Bucky Barnes, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier: Episode 2 The Star-Spangled Man

Bucky's inner thoughts as he watches that Good Morning America interview.

Read on AO3

Part 16 of Making a Home - the Jewish Bucky series

-------------------

The blonde man on the tv screen looks and acts like a pale copy of Steve. It’s as if they’ve tried to make a new version of it, but all they really did was a bad paint job on a vaguely man-shaped figurine.

John Walker. He has the name, the looks, and he’s probably a good christian boy. He’s everything that Bucky would have avoided for self-preservation back in the day. The type of guy who wouldn’t get what being in Bucky’s shoes, or even Steve’s was like.

Even his uniform feels like a parody of Steve’s, with the blue and red, the pattern too similar for it to be a coincidence. The A on his helmet has a star on it, because of course it does. They’re even added the little wings. The new Captain America. He probably has no idea that the first helmet was stolen from the dancers of Steve’s revue.

Granted, the guy is handsome, in that perfect American way, corn fed and bred for greatness like on the propaganda posters. Might as well be standing in a field of blonde wheat with a blonde girl on his arm.

Even the song they played when he came jogging into his old high school’s football field was a parody of the one the girls sang on Steve’s revue, when they toured the fucking front line in those short skirts to try and give the men a semblance of fantasy.

Bucky saw a couple of those, after the weapons factory, even if Steve had stopped playing in them.

Fucking hell.

For the last two days, the guy’s face has been plastered everywhere. He can’t fucking believe it.

Sam has been radio-silent for the whole time too, which isn’t the case of everyone. The Avengers group chat has been busy.

It wasn’t Bucky’s choice to be a part of the thing. It was on the phone when he got it. He has no idea how, and he’s not willing to ask. Besides, if that person confesses, he doesn’t know if he’ll manage not to tell them to go fuck themselves.

It’s not that he doesn’t like these people. They’re not bad people.

Banner’s nice enough, and in another life, Bucky would have loved to listen to him talk about his work. Barton’s a dick on a good day, and Bucky likes that about him. He gets the guy. Ex-special ops, and all. But Barton sends way too many random pics of his happy family.

Maximoff has never sent a single text into the chat since she went ‘I’m getting him back’, the day Bucky was taken to the Raft.

Rhodes is military through and through, in a way that makes Bucky slightly uncomfortable. Back in the 40s, they had an excuse to be that into the army, it was the Second fucking World War.

Peter Parker is a fucking teenager and Bucky doesn’t make a habit of chatting with teenagers, in general. Especially ones that talk in ways he just cannot understand.

Scott Lang is a menace.

Sam’s… The only guy Bucky can really stand in this group, but he’ll never say it to his face. Sam has all the good Steve used to have, but he’s more stable, and less of a reckless idiot. Except when he’s giving away Steve’s legacy to the government, only for the government to immediately give it to another guy. A guy Steve didn’t choose. A guy that’s nothing like Sam in any way.

And considered the training montage currently on his screen, showing Walker at sunset training with the shield near a fucking lake, it didn’t stay in the Smithsonian long.

Sam should have known better than to trust Senator Hughes and his pretty words about closing the chapter on Captain America. It makes sense though, because Sam’s a good, kind, trusting man, even if he shouldn’t be. He trusted Natasha and her baggage of death. He trusted Steve when the entire intelligence community was hunting him down, and then trusted him enough to help him go after Bucky. And he still trusted him to become criminals, to get sent to the Raft, to be on the run. Sam is a good, trusting man. That’s one of the reasons Steve chose him.

And now there’s that white guy on tv with Steve’s shield on the ground by his chair, getting his praises sung.

He guesses that’s what the world believed Steve to be. Big, beefy, perfect American guy, with ladies swooning at his feet and a strong military record. Patriotic to the bone, his entire life spent in the U.S. Army. The perfect soldier.

It’s written in the Smithsonian, though. It’s written that Steve was skinny and got beat up all the time, that his family was poor, that he was the grandson of Irish immigrants, at the time when being Irish was as bad as being Slav. When being Irish, and a Catholic, wasn’t white enough for anyone but the census bureau.

He’d broken the law four times to try and get into the war, to try and fight a bully. He would have done that no matter the flag. He probably would have crossed the border and tried to get drafted into the Canadian forces if they’d kept rejecting him in the states.

This guy is all… security and safety and there’s the flag on his shoulder. Granted, Steve was dressed like an anthropomorphic Star-Spangled banner, but it’s different. This is the same flag they put on official military uniforms. Steve’s was made by Howard Stark, by the SSR. The Howling Commandos were never American, they were more than that, with a Frenchman and a Brit. They were the Allied forces’ in a way but they weren’t the United States’. Not really.

John Walker’s Captain America is a man of the U.S. Armed Forces. He’s America’s soldier.

Even though I never met him, he feels like a brother.

Bucky scoffs lightly at that. If you’d met him, he wouldn’t have liked you . You would have berated him for not following orders.

History barely remembers that the only reason the Howling Commandos existed was because Steve got orders, elected to ignore them and come get Bucky’s ass out of that Hydra facility when the whole chain of command wanted him to stay in Azzano and dance prettily to showtunes.

For some reason, Bucky feels like the man on the screen wouldn’t do that.

He feels like wrenching that shield from him and hiding it somewhere no one would ever find it. Beating up the guy and going off the grid, never to be found again. Back to a small Romanian apartment, and this time Steve wouldn’t be there to come get him.

He stands up from the floor, cutting off the tv. But before he does any of that, he needs to go and see Sam. Maybe the guy is as mad as Bucky is. Maybe the two of them can rectify this fucking disgrace of a decision the Brass made.

Whatever happens, it will give Bucky the occasion to let Sam know exactly the mistake he made.

[shieldagentscully-blog]

SAS 5 - Great Minds

May 1994 - Washington D.C.

The body was a 34-year-old male, Puerto Rican, gang member who had been the star witness in a Department of Justice trial involving a cartel operating out of the Port Authority in New York, importing goods and drugs for distribution and sale on the black market. The case was run of the mill, honestly, and the unfortunate fellow had been pretty cut-and-dry as far as such cases went. There wasn’t much a bullet to the back of the skull was going to tell you outside of the fact that the caliber was enough to make an open casket impossible for his family. Scully did what she could to ensure that the funeral home didn’t have to deal with too much of a mess, sewed up the Y-incision and went back to her office to begin writing up her notes.

She was only mildly surprised to see anyone sitting in there. Certainly, she was used to the itchy agent or three who would on occasions camp out there with the impatience of a hyper two-year-old waiting for the results for their investigation, and in fact she had been expecting that very thing on the body she had just put into the freezer. She didn’t even pause as she rounded towards her desk, barely looking at the woman seated across from it.

“Javier de Valle was a standard execution, plain and simple. Was asked to kneel in a parking lot, hands behind his back while they put a slug into the back of his head. The exit wound obliterated much of the upper part of his face. I’m getting ballistics to give me the specs on the weapon used and if it’s traceable, and when they do, I’ll add those to my report. I should have something preliminary for you by the end of the day with addendums within the next 48, depending on how our trace goes.”

The woman merely blinked dark eyes at her, a hint of something tugging at her lips. “Well, that was a horrible way to die.”

It was the British accent that caught her attention, as few people from Justice ever had one of those. She paused, really looking at her visitor for the first time. An older woman, maybe in her 60’s, still clearly vibrant judging from the bemused smirk on her faintly lined face, hair slowly fading from brunette to silver. Her well tailored suit and elegant pearls made Scully suddenly very aware of the standard-order scrubs she was wearing and her own copper hair pulled up in a messy scrunchy at the top of her head.

“Ummm...I’m sorry, I thought you were from Justice, on the body I had sent down to me.”

“I wish I was now, it sounds fascinating.” She shrugged, regarding Scully quickly. “Let me guess, gang killing, likely drugs or some such, and your body was an informant?”

Scully couldn’t deny or affirm that, so she only stared. The woman only seemed more amused by that.

“Of course, it’s the sort of everyday, run-of-the mill stuff that the Department of Justice feels they need to send to Quantico, because nothing less than their best forensic pathologists would do. After all, not everyone can tell that a man having his face blasted off was shot in the back of the head.”

“In fairness, most people wouldn’t get past the face being missing, but beyond that, I suppose they could have used a New York City coroner. They are backed up for a week or more, however, and as this was a key piece for a DOJ investigation, they came to me, as they should.” Scully leaned back in her chair, regarding the stranger. “You know, Quantico is a Marine base. They don’t just let anyone in here.”

“Well, good thing I have the clearance for that sort of thing.” Her smile was now genuine as she leaned across the desk, placing a white card in front of Scully. It read “Margaret Carter, Director, Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division”

Scully suddenly felt her mouth go very, very dry.

“Director Carter,” she managed, clearing her throat and tugging at her blood spattered and rumpled top. “I...uh..how can I help you?”

“I just wished to say hello, introduce myself, and tell you that Agent Coulson is speaking to your friend on my orders.” Her expression was mild enough, but there was something of the predator in her as she leaned back, crossing her legs at the knees, pulling her skirt down primly. “I must admit, I find it admirable the devotion you have for Agent Mulder. It’s rare to find that in our line of work. Though, to be fair, you two aren’t exactly the standard for FBI agents, now are you?”

“May I ask why you are reaching out to Mulder?”

“Because I know his father.”

That gave Scully pause.

If she expected Director Carter to elaborate, she was mistaken, as she breezed by that tidbit. “Agent Mulder has been on our radar for some time, since before the FBI managed to snare him. It is unfortunate they did because they’ve squandered the talent as they always do. Bill Patterson is a jackass and always has been, but, that’s where they put your partner and nearly ruined him for anything else.”

Scully’s brain swum as the other woman rattled off the information, racing to try and keep up with her. “I’m sorry, you said that SHIELD wanted Mulder first?”

“Oh, we had every intention of taking him. Politics got in the way of that.”

“But Mulder was a profiler. He didn’t work anti-terrorism.”

“As brilliant as your partner’s mind is, Agent Scully, I didn’t want him because he knows how serial killers think. I wanted him because of the way he thinks; outside the box, without labels or preconceived notions, willing to turn the picture on its side and look at it in a different way.”

“I see.” She didn’t really, but she wasn’t willing to admit that. “And this has nothing to do with the X-files, the death of a high profile man in a global conspiracy who served as Mulder’s informant, or the fact that Mulder was infected with a strange virus whose origins cannot yet be quantified?”

“It could be all of that, too.”

None of this made sense.

“I’m sorry, Director Carter, but I find it hard to believe that a global organization such as SHIELD is going out of its way for someone the FBI has nearly written off. Why not just approach him out in the open, like you and I are? Why all the clandestine business?”

Far from offending the other woman, Scully’s tone made her laugh outright. “I knew I’d like you from the start. I pushed to have the pair of you, honestly, but Fury said to try the more obvious one first. I’m glad to see my instincts were right.”

Before Scully could feel nettled enough to demand answers, the other woman leaned over to a briefcase at her feet, pulling out a file she flipped open on her lap. “Dana Katherine Scully, born 1964. Your father was career Navy, retired a read admiral, your mother was a homemaker and now spends her retirement volunteering and working for veterans’ causes. You have three siblings, a sister, Melissa, who last we saw was driving up the coast of California to see friends in San Francisco. You have two brothers, both career Navy, one in San Diego, the other based in Norfolk, specializing in naval intelligence.”

She raised an eyebrow at that. “Interesting...might have Fury look into him.”

“Is there a point reciting my life story?”

“I like knowing about people.” She didn’t even look up from the page. “You graduated from Maryland summa cum laude taking a bachelors in physics, and then Stanford Medical, where you specialized in cardiology before switching to pathology and the FBI. Had it not been for Daniel Waterston, you’d have been making high figures fixing hearts, instead you are in the basement of the Hoover Building trailing after a man whose heart was broken years ago and he’s never been able to fix it. Why?”

She might as well have dumped cold ice water over Scully’s head for all the shock Carter caused. She hadn’t expected her to drop Scully’s previous sins on her like that.

“I...my father and brothers were Navy. I wanted to do something equally as worthwhile, to make a difference.” It was mostly the truth.

“And a broken heart from a man cheating on his wife wasn’t the reason?”

“Do you honestly think I’d still be here, doing this, if Daniel Waterston is the only reason I joined the FBI?”

Her answer seemed to please Carter. “You didn’t want to join the Navy yourself? You have brains, a medical degree, you could have excelled. They are always looking for that.”

Scully did know that, had even considered it, briefly. “When I was a girl, my father was more often away than at home. It was Vietnam, he was off at one base or the other, and my mother was left in San Diego fending for four kids and praying that he’d come home safely from wherever her was stationed. Granted, it wasn’t World War II, but we all saw the news every night, the names read off. I wasn’t interested in being shipped off to fight in a war and break my mother’s heart.”

“Even though women can be in the military, now, which was more than in my day.” Carter only sounded slightly bitter at that.

“There are other enemies and other ways to fight a war and I’m not Captain America, able to throw myself into battle and defeat my enemies by just beating them into submission.”

She had meant it as a small joke, a call back to SHIELD’s history with the SSR. She had struck a nerve, though. Carter’s geniality faltered, briefly, regarding Scully, as if attempting to stick her 5’2 frame into anything close to Steve Rogers and failing miserably.

“No,” she finally sighed, somewhat sad, somewhat humorously grieved. “Few people can claim to be as hard-headed or foolishly determined to fight unwinnable wars as Captain Rogers was. But, I think your friend, Fox Mulder, might just give him a run for his money.”

That made Scully snort loudly. “He just might.”

She wasn’t sure what it said about Mulder if they could mutually agree he was almost, but not quite, foolish enough to do something like take an untested serum in order to fight super-Nazis. Scully didn’t think she wanted to put the notion in his head.

“Back to the matter at hand, you joined the FBI to make a difference, to have a bit of adventure, use that incredible talent of yours to solve the world’s problems and not just triple bypasses. So, why are you stuck in Quantico again, dissecting gangland executions for needy DOJ prosecutors who got their short hairs in a twist because they didn’t protect their informants well enough?”

Scully nearly choked on her own spit as Carter dropped them neatly between them, all tweed and pearls, as cooly as she was discussing the weather. “Well, I’m here because that’s where the FBI assigned me after Agent Mulder’s unfortunate fall out and the closing of the X-files.”

“Are you seriously happy here, though, doing work any city examiner could do while teaching green-faced cadets how not to puke at the sight of blood and guts coming out of a corpse?”

“Is it what I’d like to do, no, but I’m knowledgeable at it.”

“I’m knowledgeable at how to make a good cuppa and not dribble on myself and yet you don’t see me at tea parties.” She sniffed mildly, disdain evident. “All this talent wasted because the FBI wanted to reign you in and shut you up. Are you really content accepting that?”

“And what, leave? To do what? Work for you?”

Carter only arched one dark, elegant eyebrow.

“I’ve never done the work SHIELD does. I’m a pathologist who has some skills in an ER, that’s about it.”

“You also have some knowledge on a virus known as ‘Purity Control’ correct?”

How in the hell did Carter know about that? “I’ve seen it, yes, but the evidence I have for it is gone now.”

“Yes, I’m afraid it is. But, I can help you and Mulder find it again.”

“How? His contact has already been killed.”

“Because the FBI has no idea what they are dealing with, but I do. SHIELD has been fighting them for decades. And I’m offering a chance for you to come alongside Mulder to keep up your work.”

Keep up their work? Opening the X-files?

“What is it that SHIELD does again?”

“A little bit of everything, Agent Scully, but primarily we protect, just like every good shield does. Things, places, but mostly people. We are what keeps the world safe at night, able to live another day, because there are things out there that are far bigger than armies or governments, and threats that no one could even predict or begin to understand. We are the first line of defense, and if we are lucky, the only one they ever meet. That’s the idea, anyway, and I should know, as I helped found the bloody place.”

Found? Scully’s eyes went impossibly wide as she stared at the woman in front of her. “You...helped to found SHIELD?”

“Why yes, darling, else the thing would have never gotten off the ground, though I daresay without Chet and Howard we’d have failed even getting that far. The threats didn’t end because Hitler was dead. There needed to be an organized group that could handle these sorts of bigger-than-life threats, ones that all the superpowers caught in their Cold War were too busy to pay attention to. Thus, SHIELD was born.”

All Scully could think in the heat of the moment was that the Gunmen would die of absolute envy at this moment.

“So you want Mulder to help you stop global threats?”

“Fox Mulder isn’t the only one we want.”

Scully knew it was coming, but even when the other shoe dropped, she still felt stunned. “I’m just a forensic pathologist. We are a dime a dozen.”

“You are a gifted scientist, a talented doctor, and you’ve managed to keep up with the likes of Mr. Mulder for over a year, which knowing his reputation I say is an impressive feet. Beyond that, I’ve seen your work. You have a clinical mind and a meticulous investigatory brain and I want it. The Bureau is wasting what talent they have here throwing you at gangland killings and raw recruits, you have more to offer than that.”

Scully glanced down at her scrubs, then at her desk, the piles of papers stacked in the corner, the notes scribbled across a legal pad, the tape recorder with her verbal notes on it from her autopsy. She hadn’t minded returning to the lab, really, but if she were honest with herself, she missed the field work she had been doing with Mulder, the true investigations, the search for the truth. Besides, if he was going to be working for SHIELD, he would need a minder.

“How is your insurance plan?”

At that, Carter smiled widely. “As long as you don’t mind the occasional experimental treatment, I think you will find it adequate.”

“Good, because you are going to find that Mulder is going to need it.”

[theliberaltony]

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Welcome to Pollapalooza, our weekly polling roundup.

Poll(s) of the week

It was a historic week in the U.S. Senate, as the impeachment trial of President Trump got underway. We got opening arguments, fights over decorum, dealmaking and more. We also got a bunch of new polls measuring how Americans felt about all this, and … support for Trump’s removal from office remains as polarized as ever. Almost every poll released this week found the country closely divided on the question, although most showed that slightly more people support Trump’s removal than oppose it.

The latest polls say Americans favor removal — narrowly

Polls released this week asking whether President Trump should be removed from office

Dates Pollster Sample Support Removal Oppose Removal Net Jan. 2-15 Gallup 1014 A 46% 51% -5 Jan. 14-16 SurveyUSA 4069 RV 46 39 +7 Jan. 15-17 HuffPost/YouGov 1000 A 46 43 +3 Jan. 6-19 Pew Research Center 12638 A 51 46 +5 Jan. 16-19 CNN/SSRS 1156 A 51 45 +6 Jan. 17-19 Politico/Morning Consult 1997 RV 47 45 +2 Jan. 16-20 Monmouth 903 A 49 48 +1 Jan. 17-20 FiveThirtyEight/Ipsos 1587 A 54 42 +12 Jan. 16-21 Associated Press/NORC 1353 A 45 40 +5 Jan. 19-21 The Economist/YouGov 1500 A 43 42 +1

Source: polls

Overall, our average of polls focusing on removing Trump from office shows, as of Thursday night, that 48.1 percent of Americans support doing so.

That includes 83.9 percent of Democrats but only 8.4 percent of Republicans. Support among independents is almost exactly between the two, at 41.8 percent. Furthermore, these numbers have barely budged since the House voted to impeach Trump in December. That implies that each side’s political maneuvering in recent weeks, like House Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s delay in sending the articles of impeachment to the Senate and Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell’s restrictive rules for the Senate trial, haven’t affected public opinion.

You might also notice that our impeachment tracker (on display below the removal tracker) has crept up to 50.5 percent.

However, it can be misleading to make a one-to-one comparison between the impeachment tracker today and the impeachment tracker a few months ago. Before the House voted to impeach Trump, this tracker incorporated a more diverse array of questions, including those that asked if Trump should be “impeached and removed.”1 That question is now obsolete: These days, the only question pollsters are still asking about impeachment (as distinct from removal) is whether respondents approve or disapprove of the House’s decision to impeach Trump. (The removal tracker currently draws from questions that ask only if Trump should be “removed,” without mentioning impeachment.) The impeachment tracker now reflects trends in only one pretty mildly worded question, one of several reasons it’s possible that support would be higher than in other impeachment-related polls.2 A good example of this can be found in the Monmouth University poll released this week: Americans were evenly divided (49 percent to 48 percent) on whether to remove Trump from office, but they approved of the House’s decision to impeach by 7 points (53 percent to 46 percent).

Opponents of Trump might be tempted to think that having 48 percent of the country behind his removal bodes poorly for his reelection chances. I wouldn’t be reassured by that number if I were the president — Trump’s approval rating (the most direct measure of his popularity we have) remains pretty bad — but there are several reasons why we can’t assume that this means at least 48 percent of the country will also vote against Trump in November. First, although they are few and far between, at least some of those who support removal self-identify as Republicans. They may support his removal because they believe that Vice President Mike Pence (who would take over if Trump is ousted) would make a better president — but if faced with a choice between Trump and a Democratic candidate, they might still prefer Trump.

In addition, many — if not most — polls asking about removal are conducted among all adults, not among voters. (The idea, after all, is to see how the country feels about removing Trump, and the country includes millions of nonvoters.) The people who end up voting in elections tend to be a tad more Republican than the adult population. So a pollster that shows narrow support for Trump’s removal could actually begin to show narrow opposition to it with a sample limited to likely voters.

The upshot is that we can’t actually say with much confidence whether impeachment is hurting (or helping) Trump’s reelection chances. Nor is it even clear it’s having any affect at all.

Other polling bites

Following recent reporting that Sen. Bernie Sanders told Sen. Elizabeth Warren in a private meeting in 2018 that he did not think a woman could get elected president, CNN/SSRS asked voters if they thought a woman could win. And voters overwhelmingly said yes, 84 percent to 15 percent. There is a notable gender gap, though: 89 percent of men said a woman could get elected while 9 percent disagreed, but women were less convinced, at 79 percent to 20 percent.

A new Atlanta Journal-Constitution poll found that voters in Georgia approve of Trump’s job performance 51 percent to 48 percent. That’s pretty different from what the last AJC poll found: a 44 percent approval rating and a 54 percent disapproval rating. The difference could be because this week’s AJC poll included education in its weighting formula, an important development considering that respondent pools that underrepresented white voters without a college degree may have been responsible for some of 2016’s most egregious polling errors.

Secretary of State Mike Pompeo not running for Senate in Kansas is considered a blow to Republicans’ chances of holding onto that seat, as it makes it likelier that the party will nominate divisive and potentially unelectable candidate Kris Kobach. Kobach’s main threat for the nomination now appears to be Rep. Roger Marshall, and this week, a pro-Marshall political action committee released an internal poll showing Marshall at 29 percent and Kobach at 28 percent. But internal polls often overstate their candidates’ standings in hopes of getting favorable headlines. So this poll actually implies that Kobach probably leads right now — although with more than six months until the primary, there’s plenty of time for that to change.

The Kaiser Family Foundation is out with a wide-ranging new poll on abortion. Sixty-nine percent of Americans do not want Roe v. Wade to be overturned, but the public does support many restrictions on abortion that have been implemented on the state level: For example, 66 percent support requiring a 24-hour waiting period between meeting with a health care provider and actually getting an abortion. In response to another question, 63 percent of Americans say they know someone (which can include themselves) who has had an abortion.

A new poll by The Economist/YouGov finds that 5 percent of Americans identify as vegetarians and an additional 2 percent identify as vegans. However, those under 30 are much more likely to say they have a meatless diet: 9 percent of them are vegetarians, and 6 percent are vegans.

Trump approval

According to FiveThirtyEight’s presidential approval tracker, 42.0 percent of Americans approve of the job Trump is doing as president, while 53.8 percent disapprove (a net approval rating of -11.8 points). At this time last week, 42.4 percent approved and 52.9 percent disapproved (for a net approval rating of -10.5 points). One month ago, Trump had an approval rating of 42.7 percent and a disapproval rating of 52.8 percent, for a net approval rating of -10.1 points.

Generic ballot

In our average of polls of the generic congressional ballot, Democrats currently lead by 5.5 percentage points (46.8 percent to 41.3 percent). A week ago, Democrats led Republicans by 5.9 points (47.0 percent to 41.1 percent). At this time last month, voters preferred Democrats by 6.5 points (47.4 percent to 40.9 percent).

Check out all the polls we’ve been collecting ahead of the 2020 elections.

[thisdaynews]

Harris allies see sexism and desperation in Biden camp backlash

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/harris-allies-see-sexism-and-desperation-in-biden-camp-backlash/

Harris allies see sexism and desperation in Biden camp backlash

Sen. Kamala Harris has surged in polls since she called out Joe Biden during last week’s debate over his associations with segregationist senators and his opposition to busing. | Joe Raedle/Getty Images

2020 Elections

‘He doesn’t get a pass because he was Barack Obama’s vice president,’ one lawmaker backing Harris says of Biden.

Four days after their prime-time showdown, the tit-for-tat between Kamala Harris and Joe Biden is still going strong.

Some Harris allies said Monday they saw sexism and desperation in the backlash from the former vice president’s camp. They were outraged after an ally of Biden suggested she hadallowed her ambitionto get the best of her when she challenged the former vice president’s long opposition to busing for school desegregation. And at least one black leader aligned with a rival campaign rose to Harris’ defense, too.

Story Continued Below

“Why couldn’t she be ambitious? She’s running for president of the United States,” Rep. Bonnie Watson Coleman, co-chair of the Congressional Caucus on Black Women and Girls, said in an interview. Watson Coleman is backing Cory Booker but said she felt compelled to speak out. “That, however, does not diminish the significance of her speaking out [about] her experiences as a young black girl, and the significance of the civil rights movement and how it provided an opportunity for her.”

Harris has surged in polls since she called out Biden during last week’s debate over his associations with segregationist senators and his opposition to busing. But Biden’s surrogates questioned her motives while emphasizing — albeit presumptively — that she blew up her chances of being selected as the early frontrunner’s running mate.

Among the Biden endorsers to blast Harris was former Carol Moseley Braun, the first black woman to serve in the Senate. “Her ambition got it wrong about Joe,” she said.

The hostilities carried into Monday, when a top Biden supporter suggested Harris’ knockdown would help Donald Trump in a general election by creating a “TV-ready moment that they could use in ads in cities like Philadelphia.” The person close to the Biden campaign also suggested Harris would get her comeuppance in a future exchange.

But Watson Coleman and others took aim at what they considered to be a tone-deaf critique of Harris. She said the dismissal of Harris’ argument stems in large part from a focus on her gender and race: Though the Democratic primary features a record number of women, they noted that two white men in their 70s are leading so far.

“It’s disingenuous for people to say she doesn’t have a right to speak to those experiences,” added Watson Coleman. “And it’s very interesting that as a black woman, how she speaking out on these issues becomes a louder issue for response than if a white man or someone else had spoken about their particular experiences and what impassions and motivates them to run.”

Biden’s decades-long stance on busing — he once called the entire concept of busing for school desegregation a “bankrupt concept” — raises questions about whether he’s equipped to handle the modern racial environment where segregated schools remain an issue, nearly a dozen Harris allies and advisers argued to POLITICO in recent days. They also rejected the idea that it reflected poorly on Harris, whose detractors said was being too-cute-by-half in leveling the critique and then advertising it on social media and on t-shirts to drive home her message.

While Harris was prepared to address Biden’s record, Biden also appeared at first ready to counter her claims. During the debate, Biden contrasted her decision to become a prosecutor with his choice to take a job early in his career as a public defender. He also was briefed enough to know that busing at Harris’ school in Berkeley was voluntary.

Still, he did himself no favors by essentially giving up on the argument before his time was up, giving Harris even more of the upper-hand in the post-debate analysis.

Harris has raised more than $3.6 million online and at events after the hit on Biden. On Monday, one of her advisors told POLITICO that their perception is Biden was rattled in the debate and instead of dealing with the merits of the issue, his supporters took out their frustrations on Harris, including the idea that she’s harmed her own career by calling him out.

So far, Harris’ move is paying big dividends for her campaign.

Biden’s frontronner status appears to be crumbling: He dropped 10 points in the latest CNN/SSRS poll released Monday, to 22 percent. Harris gained 9 points, vaulting into second place at 17 percent.

Biden’s support from non-white voters fell to 25 from 30 percent, while Harris’ backing with the group surged to 19 from just 4 percent.

“I think they believe that their victory hinges upon the establishment believing he’s the only candidate that can beat Trump,” a Harris adviser said of Biden’s camp. “If that starts to unravel then the game is up.”

Harris allies, meanwhile, defended her tack in the debate as in keeping with her profile as a prosecutor willing to speak truth to power.

J.A. Moore, a state representative in South Carolina, said the busing issue hit close to home. Moore’s aunt, Loretta, was part of an early group of black students to integrate a high school named after the late segregationist Sen. Strom Thurmond, who was nominated for a presidential run as a Dixiecrat.

Biden helped lead the charge against busing, a position fact-checkers of his debate remarks determined went beyond the federal government’s role. He strongly opposed Delaware’s court-ordered busing program, characterizing it as “a rejection of the whole movement of black pride.”

Moore said Biden’s 40-plus-year record is fair game, for Harris and other Democratic rivals.

“Here in this country we don’t coronate anybody. No one is just magically bestowed our party’s nomination. You have to earn it,” Moore said. “And one of the big things we will look at here in South Carolina — especially with the African-American community being the majority of voters in the primary — we will examine his entire record. He doesn’t get a pass because he was Barack Obama’s vice president.”

While Biden’s supporters tried to turn the tables on Harris, Marguerite Willis, a recent Democratic candidate for governor in South Carolina, said she was stung by the way his camp has handled the fallout. Willis sees it as a cry for help from a campaign that’s slowly coming apart in an era it simply wasn’t built for.

“As a woman,” she said, “I hear that as ‘who do you think you are? You need to wait your turn.’ As a politician, I hear that as ‘Houston, we have a problem.’”

Read More

[gyrlversion]

The 78 wildest lines in Donald Trumps epic ABC interview

I went through the whole thing — and pulled out the best lines. They are amazing(ly) odd.

1. “Good event. Nice event. … (inaudible) ethanol in there. Great crowd, great people. Great people.

Inaudible Ethanol would be a good band name. And away we go!

2. “But caucus is different. People walk in. You talk to them.”

[Opens PoliSci textbook, flips to “caucus” section, reads]: “Caucus is different. People walk in. You talk to them.”

3. “These people couldn’t get in. Great people. It’s a lot of — look at the — look — look at the people. They can’t get in, George.”

Trump is forever obsessed with how many people come to see him and how even more wanted to come see him. Always.

4. “Feel great about I think virtually every state that we’re competing in. I think Iowa’s great. I think Ohio and Florida, North Carolina, South Carolina. Pennsylvania, I feel really good about.”

” Trump campaign fires multiple pollsters after unflattering numbers leak”

5. “Yeah, well, we’ll be announcing that in about two months.”

Trump is talking about the health care plan that no Republican elected official wants him to announce. Take special note of his timeline…

6. “You’ll see that in a month when we — when we — introduce it. We’re going to have a plan.”

…because it just changed. So, according to Trump, he will be announcing his new health care plan in mid-July, roughly two weeks before Congress heads out of town for a month on its annual August recess, er, district work period.

7. “With respect to trade, we have a lot of power. And — we have great numbers. The companies are very strong. They’ve very liquid.”

Which companies? All of them?

8. “He’s my pick. I agree. But, you know, we also have people in there that weren’t my pick. But he’s my pick. And — I disagree with him entirely.”

Trump’s referring to Jerome Powell, his appointee as chairman of the Federal Reserve. Who is Trump’s pick but not his guy. If you get my meaning.

9. “And I inherited almost $21 trillion in debt. I inherited that.”

It’s true that President Barack Obama grew the national debt at the fastest pace ever. Know who’s second? Donald John Trump. Also: “I invented the piano key necktie. I invented it!” — Jacobim Mugatu

10. “We’re close to being very, very strong. We’re close to being stronger by far than ever before.”

Very, very strong is good, right?

11. “People don’t understand tariffs, but I understand them. And I also understand the power of tariffs.”

” This is not how tariffs work: A fact check of Trump’s misinformation on trade (among other things)”

12. “I had a case of it recently with The New York Times where they’re writing things knowing it was wrong. Knowing.”

It’s not exactly clear what story Trump is referring to here. But the idea that The New York Times published incorrect information knowingly is very hard to believe. And by “very hard to believe” I mean “not possible.”

13. “I don’t call it tweets. I call it social media.”

Same.

14. “And it’s not tweet. It’s social media.”

No, I have no idea why this distinction is important to Trump either. Thanks for asking!

15. “I put one out this morning. And as soon as I pressed the button, they said, ‘We have breaking news.’ Every network, every station. ‘We have breaking news.’ They read my tweet. Why is that bad?”

This explanation is the best one I’ve seen about why Trump uses Twitter so much. He loves to be able to drive news cycles — even if the news cycle is unfavorable to him. The power to do it is intoxicating to him — someone who spent his whole life trying to get coverage for himself from what he believed to be a biased media. Now, he can make the news with a single tweet. And he loves it.

16. “Nobody’s ever been treated badly like me.”

Nobody? Ever? [Consults first page of any history book eve.]

17. “Although they do say Abraham Lincoln was treated really badly. I must say that’s the one. If you can believe it, Abraham Lincoln was treated supposedly very badly.”

This is accurate — especially if your definition of “treated supposedly very badly” is “was assassinated.”

18. “Nobody’s been treated badly like me.”

Yeah, I think most peoples’ “Americans treated very badly list” would go something like this: 1) Trump 2) African slaves 3) Native Americans.

19. “We’ve gotten great poll numbers recently. Tremendous poll numbers.”

” Fox News Poll: Democrats want a steady leader, Biden leads Trump by 10 points”

” Top Dems Lead Trump In Head-To-Head Matchups, Quinnipiac University National Poll Finds”

20. “I wanted to say, ‘I’m running. I’m running. I’m running.’ But I wasn’t running. There’s a big difference when I run and when I just say, ‘Hey, I hope you vote for somebody.'”

“I’m not on the ticket, but I am on the ticket because this is also a referendum about me. I want you to vote. Pretend I’m on the ballot.” — Donald Trump, October 2018

21. “But Rasmussen– well, I don’t know c– Quinnipiac has never been accurate for me. Rasmussen was the m– one of the most accurate polls.”

According to 538’s pollster rankings, Rasmussen received a C+ for its work in the 2016 campaign. The pollster had a 1.5 mean bias toward Republicans.

22. “And, you know, for women — as you know, I did very well with women last time. I was hearing I wouldn’t have. I’d say, ‘Why? Why? Explain.’ I did very well with women –“

[Narrator voice] He didn’t. Trump lost women 54% to 41% to Hillary Clinton.

23. “Well, I got 52%.”

He didn’t actually get 52% with women. He got 41%. He got 52% with white women. Which, well, draw your own conclusions.

24. “I think that — hey, Hillary Clinton focused on women, and I did phenomenally well. Many, many, many points above what they thought.”

Trump got 41% among women. Mitt Romney got 44% in 2012. John McCain got 42% in 2008. George W. Bush got 48% in 2004 — and 44% in 2000. So if 41% is “phenomenally well” then I did “phenomenally well” in Calculus in high school.

25. “I think we’re going to do tremendously now with African-Americans, with Asians, with Hispanics because they have the lowest unemployment numbers they’ve ever had in the history of the country.”

Trump’s job approval among non-whites was 23% in the latest CNN-SSRS national poll.

26. “We’re doing the best job that anybody’s done probably as a first-term president. I think I’ve done more than any other first-term president ever.”

It’s starting to dawn on me that Trump may not be a huge student of presidential history. Or, like, history more generally.

27. “Mueller comes out. There’s no collusion. And essentially a ruling that no obstruction.”

Nope! Robert Mueller made quite clear — in his special counsel’s report and in his public statement earlier this month — that if he had been able to declare Trump innocent on obstruction of justice, he would have done so. And he didn’t.

28. “George, the report said no collusion.”

From the report: “We understood coordination to require an agreement — tacit or express — between the Trump Campaign and the Russian government on election interference. That requires more than the two parties taking actions that were informed by or responsive to the other’s actions or interests. We applied the term coordination in that sense when stating in the report that the investigation did not establish that the Trump Campaign coordinated with the Russian government in its election interference activities.”

29. “Probably I average four or five hours or something like that.”

“How does somebody that’s sleeping 12 and 14 hours a day compete with someone that’s sleeping three or four?” — Donald Trump

30. “Uh I’m not a breakfast guy at all, fortunately. I like the lunches but the dinners is what I really like.”

My meal rankings: 1) Dinner 2) Breakfast 4,627) Lunch

31. “That’s why if we can take over the House, we will have things done like never before.”

“Vote for me, and all your wildest dreams will come true.” — Pedro

32. “I have the biggest people — yesterday I had some of the biggest business people in the world in my office and they have beautiful offices perhaps more beautiful than the Oval Office, although to me there is nothing more beautiful because of what it represents.”

Eloquence, thy name is Donald Trump.

33. “You didn’t have flags to any great degree. You had an American flag, but for the most part you didn’t have flags. Uh, it’s quite a bit different than President Obama.”

Donald Trump’s contribution to the Oval Office? Flags!

34. “It’s very comfortable, and back there I have a tremendous amount of work. In fact, you’d see it’s a much different uh, effect. You can’t have — every time we have pictures everyone wants a picture, you don’t want to take all things off your desk so I have a desk back here that I actually use much more.”

Trump has been criticized for having an empty desk in the Oval Office. So, he makes sure to tell Stephanopoulos that there’s a “tremendous amount of work” behind the desk. That’s like when my parents asked if I had done my homework as I was playing video games and I said: Oh yeah, it’s all done — it’s in a big folder in my backpack.

35. “And the heads of royal companies and car companies and other presidents did not make the Oval Office easily available and I do.”

Ah yes, the well known “royal companies.” Are they related to the Golden Company?

36. “I opened it and I saw the letter I read it and I thought it was very nice and I have it. Uh, right there that’s more judges I’m signing, we’ve signed a 107 judges since I’m in, and I’ll get a 145 plus two Supreme Court judges which we already have and the numbers should be quite a bit higher than that.”

In which Trump goes from talking about the letter Obama left for him in the White House to the number of federal judges he will get confirmed. Without a pause. Or a break. Pure stream-of-consciousness stuff here.

37. “Because we’ve given the biggest tax cut in history.”

38. “It’s actually phony polling and I believe it’s suppression. They suppress, they want to suppress the minds of people so they don’t bother going out and voting.”

This is not a thing. What Trump is saying is that the polls aren’t good for him and, therefore, they must be fake.

39. “I think it’s probably, uh, I want them to think whatever they think, they do say, I mean, I’ve seen and I’ve read and I’ve heard, and I did have one very brief meeting on it. But people are saying they’re seeing UFOs, do I believe it? Not particularly.”

Word salad! With a side of UFOs! Delicious!

40. “And some of them really see things that are a little bit different than in the past, so we’re going to see, but we’ll watch it. You’ll be the first to know.”

The President of the United States on the possibility of aliens: “We’re going to see, but we’ll watch it.”

41. “I think I have the greatest base in the history of politics because they are not believers in false things.”

42. “For instance, on Good Morning America today they had that phony polling information. I explained to you last night that it was phony, but you didn’t do anything about it. You should have, but it was late in the evening and perhaps you didn’t get a chance.”

Your regular reminder that Trump watches a LOT of TV.

43. “I like the truth. I’m actually a very honest guy.”

44. “George, I know he hates me. And then he puts 18 people on who are Democrats.”

Donald Trump’s evidence that Robert Mueller hates him is because he knows Mueller hates him. Which all makes sense! Oh, also, Trump said that Mueller acted honorably in the probe in March. Good times.

45. “Because nobody has any idea how corrupt the media is. They are corrupt. Not all of it, fortunately. But the media is corrupt.”

Read “corrupt” here as “unwilling to write only positive stories about me.”

46. “When you will see my financial statement, at some point I assume it’s going to be released, you’ll be very impressed by the job I’ve done. Much, much bigger, much, much better than anybody.”

Remember: Trump is the only post-Watergate president not to release a single page of his past tax returns.

47. “If you’re going to cough, please leave the room. You just can’t, you just can’t cough. Boy, oh boy. OK, do you want to do that a little differently than uhh-“

White House chief of staff Mick Mulvaney coughed during Trump’s answer about his “fantastic financial statement.” Two thoughts: 1) Trump is a noted germophobe and 2) He is effectively trying to executive produce ABC’s interview of him.

48. “I look forward to, frankly, I’d like to have people see my financial statement because it’s phenomenal-“

So, I think Trump is talking about his tax returns when he keeps saying “financial statement.” Of course, if he truly wanted people to see his tax returns, he could, you know, just release them.

49. “But they’re asking for things that they should never be asking for, that they’ve never asked another president for.”

Trump is the only post-Watergate president not to release a single page of his past tax returns.

50. “No, people hate Obamacare.”

In the May edition of the Kaiser Family Foundation’s tracking poll, 49% had a favorable opinion of the Affordable Care Act while 42% had an unfavorable view of it.

51. “Do you agree with the cough? I hate to have a cough in the middle of a (inaudible). … No, but don’t you agree with that?”

Yes, the cough is the key thing here.

52. “My life has always been a fight.”

His father gave him a “small” loan of $1 million when he was in his twenties.

53. “The campaign, the Trump campaign rebuffed them. We had nothing to do with Russia.”

“At least 16 Trump associates had contacts with Russians during campaign or transition”

54. “I’ll tell you, you talk about collusion, take a look at the collusion with the Democrat Party and Facebook and Google and Twitter. That’s called collusion, that’s called real collusion.“

The “real collusion,” in Trump’s mind, used to be between Clinton’s campaign and the Russians. That seems to have changed of late for Trump — as he has moved on to alleging a broad conspiracy against conservatives on social media sites. He has yet to provide any compelling evidence to back up this claim.

55. “And [Rusian President Vladimir] Putin, I will say this: if he had it, it was up to him. He would much rather have Hillary Clinton be president right now.”

We know from the Mueller report that Russians interfered in the 2016 election to help Trump and hurt Clinton because they believed Trump would be better for their country’s long-term interests. Also, Putin said flatly that he wanted Trump to win after the two men’s summit in Helsinki.”Yes, I did,” he said. “Yes, I did. Because he talked about bringing the US-Russia relationship back to normal.”

56. “I would guarantee you that 90%, could be 100%, of the congressmen or the senators over there, have had meetings — if they didn’t they probably wouldn’t be elected — on negative information about their opponent.”

Trump seems either incapable or unwilling to understand the difference between negative information a campaign unearths about another candidate and taking information from a foreign power. The first is business as usual in politics. The latter is a clear attempt to influence the outcome of another country’s sovereign elections.

57. “I don’t know, I stay uninvolved. I stay totally uninvolved.”

Trump is talking about his dealing with the Justice Department and its ongoing investigations. And yes, this statement is beyond laughable.

58. “Not only — not only wasn’t he charged, if you read it, with all of the horrible fake news — I mean, I was reading that my son was going to go to jail — this is a good young man — that he was going to go to jail.”

It is true that Mueller did not charge Donald Trump Jr. It is also true that Trump Jr. agreed to meet with Russians at Trump Tower in the summer of 2016 on the promise that they had “dirt” on Hillary Clinton. It is also also true that Trump Jr. replied to an email promising dirt on Clinton with this now famous/infamous line: “If it’s what you say I love it especially later in the summer.”

59. “I’ll tell you what: I’ve seen a lot of things over my life. I don’t think in my whole life I’ve ever called the FBI. In my whole life. You don’t call the FBI.”

This is from a 2017 BuzzFeed story: “According to a 1981 FBI memo, Trump offered to ‘fully cooperate’ with the bureau, proposing that FBI agents work undercover in a casino he was considering opening in Atlantic City. FBI agents even prepared an ‘undercover proposal concerning the TRUMP casino’ that senior agents and Trump planned to discuss, according to the document.”

60. “The FBI director is wrong because, frankly, it doesn’t happen like that in life.”

Trump is saying that FBI Director Christopher Wray, who he appointed to the job, is wrong about politicians needing to report entreaties by foreign powers to the FBI. Trump, as you may know, is not in fact a law enforcement professional. Here’s what Wray said on the subject last month in testimony to Congress: “If any public official or member of any campaign is contacted by any nation state of anybody acting on behalf of a nation state about influencing or interfering with our election, then that’s something that the FBI would want to know about.”

61. “I don’t — there’s nothing wrong with listening. If somebody called from a country, Norway, ‘We have information on your opponent,’ oh, I think I’d want to hear it.”

Truly stunning stuff here. What Trump, who is, reminder, the President of the United States, seems to fail to grasp is that a foreign county would almost certainly have a motive for passing along negative information about Trump’s opponent.

Think back to what we know about Russian interference in the 2016 election. They sought to interfere to help Trump and hurt Clinton because they thought Trump would be better for their interests. Trump’s blindness — willful or otherwise — that other countries would pass along this information as part of an attempt to manipulate an American election to produce their desired results is scary — especially when you consider that we have another national election coming in 17 months.

62. “It’s not an interference. They have information. I think I’d take it.”

It is interference. There is a reason that we only let Americans vote in elections. Because Americans should be the ones who have the only say about the future leaders of America. I mean, come on. This is 7th grade civics class stuff.

63. “Barron’s doing fantastically. He’s here. He likes soccer. He’s doing a great job.”

Me on my sons: “They’re here. They like soccer. They’re doing a great job.” Weird, right?

64. “He– w– when you say ‘me,’ not me. … Because I didn’t know him at that time. That was a very different deal. But here’s the bottom line. I ended it.”

This is how Trump responded to Stephanopoulos’ question about whether North Korean leader Kim Jong Un asked the United States to pay for Otto Warmbier to be returned to the US. So yes, he did.

65. “I think that Kim Jong Un– and you’ve heard many bad things about him, but you’ve heard from me different things.”

This seems to suggest that Trump doesn’t believe Kim is a bad guy — and that many of the reports of the atrocities by Kim are, uh, “fake news?”

66. “[Kim] could have almost an instantaneously wealthy behemoth.”

My college jazz fusion band was named “Instantaneously Wealthy Behemoth.”

67. “I say a lot of nice things about a lot of people that are very soft and nice.”

Real quote.

68. “Some might be nice, and some might not be nice. But I’ve done a great job.”

Honestly, same.

69. “The story on that very simply, No. 1, I was never going to fire Mueller. I never suggested firing Mueller.”

Trump denies here that he directed then White House counsel Donald McGahn to fire Mueller. Worth noting: McGahn has testified under oath Trump did exactly that.

70. “I don’t care what [McGahn] says. It doesn’t matter. That was to show everyone what a good counsel he was.”

Oh, it matters. Especially because, again, McGahn was under oath. Which Trump isn’t in this interview.

71. “Because he wanted to make himself look like a good lawyer.”

OK. So, McGahn lied under oath to make himself look like a good lawyer? The logic here is truly mind-boggling.

72. “But Don McGahn thought he did a great favor. And maybe he even believes it. But that never happened. And I have people that will tell you it didn’t happen.”

Which people?

73. “A president can run the country. And that’s what happened, George. I run the country, and I run it well.”

This was Trump’s response to a simple question: “So a President can’t obstruct justice?” I mean…

74. “I answered a lot of questions. They gave me questions. I answered them in writing.”

Trump refused to sit down with Mueller in person despite repeated attempts by the special counsel’s team to make that happen.

75. “They do societies that are so false. Everything — I mean, almost everything. They do so many false.”

“So many false.” — Donald Trump on the media

76. “I would say that he certainly must have known about it because it went very high up in the chain. But you’re going to find that out.”

No big deal here — just the current president accusing his predecessor of being aware of a Justice Department-led conspiracy aimed at keeping Trump from the White House!

77. “No collusion, no obstruction.”

Not what Mueller said. Here’s what the report said: “(I)f we had confidence after a thorough investigation of the facts that the President clearly did not commit obstruction of justice, we would so state. Based on the facts and the applicable legal standards, we are unable to reach that judgment. … Accordingly, while this report does not conclude that the president committed a crime, it also does not exonerate him.”

78. “Somebody that did a really great job for the country.”

Donald Trump on his legacy. This feels like a good place to (finally) end.

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