#Sam is torn between being loving and exasperated

[copperboom82]

Pairing: Dean Winchester/OFC (Katrina)

Word Count: 1,911

Title Credit: Here Comes the Sun by The Beatles

Summary: Dean and Katrina take a moment to enjoy the day together

Set early season 8 of SPN, and part of the Long Winding Roads collection (masterlist here), but can be read on its own.

Rating: T

A/N: This was written for the monthly challenge hosted in the Fanfic Writers of the SPN Fandom discord server (join here!), using the prompt "I missed feeling the sun on my skin." and for @alphabetquest prompt Quality Time.

Thank you @justwhisperingfantasies for being my beta and for all your support! ❤️

Warnings: This is pretty much just fluff. Um. Established relationship. Some language. If I missed anything please let me know.

*******************

The concept of relaxing was not one Katrina Black had ever been truly familiar with.

Constantly moving and keeping busy had been her way of life as long as she could remember. She’d started picking up odd jobs from neighbors before she’d hit double digits, picked up her first part time job before it was really legal, worked her way through college, and she’d been balancing some combination of work, school, caretaking, and hunting since she was at least eighteen. It wasn’t that it didn’t burn her out, because it did, but it was just always how she’d coped. It was all she knew, and it had gotten her this far, so Katrina wasn’t about to poke too hard at it.

Still, when her first day off in at least a week rolled around, and it happened to coincide with what was quite possibly the last sunny day they’d have until Spring, even she found herself craving a break.

That was how she found herself stretched out on the hammock in her backyard, sunglasses obscuring a large portion of her face, a glass of spiked iced tea sweating on a table that was close enough to reach if she really wanted to, and a worn paperback by her head that she’d tossed aside about ten minutes prior in favor of her iPod. Her eyes were closed while she soaked in the rays, but she still sensed the shift when a shadow came to hover over her. As the light dimmed, she stirred from her half-asleep state, blinking while she pushed the sunglasses up the bridge of her nose and pulled out one of her earbuds.

“The hell are you doing?” Dean asked when he saw he had her attention, and Katrina quirked an eyebrow at her boyfriend.

“You wanna try that again?”

Dean rolled his eyes, but Katrina could see the smile tugging at the corner of his lips and there was no mistaking the fondness in his gaze when he looked back at her.

“C‘mon, it’s the middle of the day, and we got shit to do. Kevin ain’t gonna find himself, and we still got a demon tablet to track down, and Crowley. Plus there’s a -“

“If you don’t shut up about demons and quit blocking my sunlight, I don’t care how much I love you Dean Winchester, I will kick you in the balls.”

Dean looked torn between exasperation and amusement at the threat and shook his head. “Kat -“

“I’m serious. It’s called a day off, and you should try it sometime.”

For a moment she was nervous she may have said the wrong thing, knowing that Dean was still bitter about Sam’s year off. But then his previous amusement seemed to win out and the smirk that had threatened to make an appearance finally spread across his face.

“Serious my ass,” he scoffed. “Kicking me in the balls is about the emptiest threat you could’ve come up with.”

“You wanna bet?” she challenged, shifting where she was lying to turn more fully towards him. Dean moved in closer, his green eyes dancing with a mixture of laughter and heat that she could’ve drowned in.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he teased, leaning down just far enough to catch her lips in a kiss. “Don’t wanna do anything you’ll regret. What was it you were saying this morning? Something about -“

An almost growl vibrated in her throat before she stretched up and cut him off with another kiss. She could still hear his laughter, feel it rumbling through his chest, even as he reciprocated enthusiastically. When they broke apart only a couple of seconds later they were both still smiling, perhaps a little breathless, and there was a softness around Dean’s eyes Katrina was still getting used to seeing.

“My point still stands,” she mumbled against his lips just before settling back fully into the hammock. Her hand, however, trailed along his arm as she shifted down, finally twining their fingers together when she reached the end, still instinctively seeking that closeness even as she allowed the distance between them.

“Yeah, well so does mine,” he countered, his thumb rubbing circles into her skin. Katrina suspected he didn’t even realize he was doing it. “It’s been a few days, maybe we’ll find something if we look into the credit cards again.”

Katrina frowned up at him and tugged at his hand. “My thing’s more fun. C’mon. Kevin’s still gonna need finding tomorrow, Crowley will still need killing, and whatever other bullshit you were gonna tell me about will keep too. Take a break with me. How many more nice days are we gonna get like this?”

It took a little more cajoling, a little more of the playful back and forth banter they’d perfected through their years of friendship, but Dean ultimately relented, climbing up next to her and holding a little tighter when the hammock swayed from the movement. Katrina wasted no time curling into his side and offering up the loose hanging earbud she had yet to replace in her own ear.

It was still new, this thing between them, and Katrina constantly found herself marveling at the fact that it was real, that it wasn’t too good to be true. Being tangled up in each other managed to be electrifying and steadying all at the same time, the excitement of being with Dean like this still being new enough to make her head spin while the comfort and safety his presence had provided her for a long time already was just as grounding as it’d always been before.

They traded slow, deep, lazy kisses, taking their time to explore even though they’d done little else with their free time lately. Katrina carded her fingers through his short hair and he splayed a hand across her back, holding her to him while his other skimmed her side as if he were trying to memorize every dip and curve. Each roll of his tongue against hers sent currents down her spine and left her aching for more.

Eventually they settled in, content to just be in the moment with each other. Dean’s arms were wrapped around her while she nestled against his chest, her head tucking in under his chin and one of her arms securing itself across his waist. The Henley he wore was soft against her skin and smelled like him, and between the heat of his body and the sun beating down on them, Katrina felt herself pleasantly warm, like she were cocooned in an invisible blanket. His one hand played with her hair, and the feeling of his fingers running along her scalp was soothing, lulling her deeper and deeper into a state of relaxation she rarely reached.

The only sounds around them were a few birds chirping in the nearby trees, and noises from the road that were extremely muffled thanks to the distance. Katrina found herself on the edge of sleep when Dean’s low voice penetrated her thoughts, quiet but almost loud because of the way she was pressed against him. She could feel him speak as much as she could hear him.

“I missed this.”

“What?” she laughed lightly, “making out in my backyard? Pretty sure we didn’t use to do this.”

“No, smartass,” he scoffed. “Just being with you. And the sun. I missed feeling the sun on my skin. There, uh… there wasn’t any in Purgatory. Not really… not like this, anyway.”

The admission was somewhat sobering, and Katrina frowned, her fingers unconsciously twisting tighter in his shirt at the reminder of their time apart… of the months she’d worried she may never see him again. Dean didn’t talk much about Purgatory, but she’d done what she could to be there for him when he was willing to. Mostly that happened in the middle of the night, when he woke up from a nightmare, or in the quiet moments like this when it was just the two of them, or sometimes if he’d had a little too much to drink - though with Dean’s tolerance, those occasions were exceedingly rare.

She waited, giving him the space to keep talking if he wanted, but when he seemed content to leave it where he had she turned her head - just enough to press a gentle kiss against his chest before pulling him to her tighter. His own fingers hadn’t stopped their movements, still soothing her in a way few other things could, and Katrina felt him drop his own kiss to the top of her head.

“And you wanted to spend the afternoon hunting demons,” she teased. Dean let out a bark of laughter that carried through the yard, squeezing her as he did before planting another kiss - this one less tender but still carried all the same warmth and affection.

“Yeah, you got me there,” he admitted. “I guess your way wasn’t so bad after all.”

Katrina smiled, her eyes fluttering shut while her breathing leveled out to match his. The sound of his heart beating beneath his ribs was an extra reminder that he was safe, that he was there with her… it was a sound she’d come to appreciate more than she ever thought she would.

“Don’t know why you ever bother arguing with me,” she quipped. “Should really know by now that I’m always right.”

“Oh god,” he complained dramatically. “What the hell have I gotten myself into with you? Is this how it’s always gonna be?”

“Better get used to it,” Katrina smirked, though she doubted he could see, given how they were positioned. “You’re stuck with me now.”

And despite the teasing he’d just done, Dean tightened his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. He held her that way for a moment, only moving just enough to make himself audible when he spoke again. “Guess that makes me the luckiest son of a bitch in the world. I love you, Kat. Always. That’s never gonna change.”

Coming from anyone else, those were words Katrina probably wouldn’t have trusted. With Dean, though, she knew they were real. Yeah, this thing between them was new, but it was built off of something deep, and real, and lasting. The feelings there weren’t fast or fleeting, and she was still terrified of what complications that would bring them considering the lives they led… but she didn’t doubt them.

So Katrina smiled, even though he couldn’t see her, and pressed another kiss to his chest because it was the only place she could reach without disturbing him, and she wasn’t ready for the embrace to end.

After all, being in Dean Winchester’s arms had been her favorite place to be far longer than they’d had any sort of claim on each other.

“I love you too,” she murmured.

They stayed like that a while longer, wrapped up in each other and savoring the last nice day of the season. Dean had been right that they had things to take care of - Kevin, Crowley, closing the gates of hell, and all their normal crap too - but for at least the afternoon, it could wait.

Katrina wasn’t great at relaxing, and she knew neither was Dean. But being around each other made it almost easy. And as the hours ticked by and the sun slowly began to set over the horizon, Katrina couldn’t bring herself to regret a moment of it.

***********************

Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added): @mrsjenniferwinchesterhester @0ccvltism

[perlukafarinn]

(ao3)

The day starts out pretty unremarkable. Dean wakes up at the crack of dawn to Cas slipping out of bed for his morning jog. He pulls him down for a good-morning kiss that turns into a make-out session that turns into them trading lazy handjobs and then falling asleep in each other’s arms again. 

Their actual start to the day is around ten AM, when Cas finally gets up for his jog and Dean gets up for his cereal and a scroll through the morning news. He’s on the look for hunts, mostly out of habit since there’s been very little monster activity since Chuck went and fucked off for good. He doesn’t find anything this morning but that’s hardly a surprise. It’s been a couple of weeks since they’ve been out on a hunt and that inactivity, weirdly enough, is starting to bother him less and less. 

Cas comes back from his jog about an hour before noon and with the mildest of prodding convinces Dean to join him in the shower. Afterwards, they throw together a lunch made from yesterday’s leftovers, taking their time eating and playing footsie under the table, because that’s apparently the kind of couple they are.

Usually by this time of day, Cas would be off in the Men of Letters’ library working on translations or cataloging and Dean would be on the phone helping Garth help out young, out-of-their depth hunters or in the garage, working on one of the beautiful but sadly neglected vehicles left behind there decades ago. 

Today, both of them are seemingly feeling kind of lazy and so hardly any work gets done. It’s not until late in the afternoon that Dean feels the urge to do something productive and suggests they go out for groceries, which Cas readily agrees to. 

The ride into town is quiet. Cas plays his mixtape - the damn thing should be worn out by now and Dean should  long since be sick of it but for reasons too sappy to mention he isn’t - and they sit and listen in comfortable silence. It’s not until they pass the town hall on their way to the supermarket that Cas gets a contemplative look on his face.

“Should we get married?”

Only years of experience behind the wheel prevent Dean’s hands from twitching wildly and veering them into oncoming traffic.

“What.”

Cas looks over, frowning. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Is there any reason for us not to get married? We’re already planning on staying together for the rest of our lives.”

“Is there any reason-” Dean wheezes. “What the fuck, Cas? Is this your idea of a proposal?”

“Are you saying no?” Cas asks, mildly curious, as if they’re talking about the fucking weather and not getting married. “Because we don’t have to.”

Dean stares ahead, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “Are you actually asking?”

“I suppose I am.”

“You ‘suppose’,” Dean mocks. “Gee, Cas, that’s real romantic.”

“Will you marry me?”

Dean pulls over. It’s far too sudden, probably leaving tire tracks in the concrete, and the driver behind them honks his horn loudly as he passes. Dean ignores him, taking a deep breath as he finally turns to face Cas. 

“Are you sure?”

He doesn’t really have to ask - Cas wouldn’t have brought it up if he wasn’t sure - but he needs to hear it. 

Thankfully, Cas seems to get that. “I want to marry you, Dean. Do you want to marry me?”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean breathes. “I mean - yes. Yeah, I do.”

Cas nods decisively. “Alright then. Now?”

“Now?”

It’s not exactly how Dean imagined this scenario would go (not that he - shut up) but it’s somehow the most romantic fucking thing that’s ever happened to him since Cas first told him he loved him. And hey, this time no one had to die!

They turn around, since there’s no point in going in without (forged) birth certificates. Once they get to the town hall, shortly before closing, they find out that it’s a three-day mandatory waiting period between applying for a marriage license and them actually being allowed to get married.

Cas suggests they use the interim time to pick up wedding rings. They wind up spending the next day driving to Topeka, where they find a couple of silver rings in a pawn shop. They’re tarnished but otherwise in good condition and once they get home, Dean spends the rest of the evening cleaning them while trying very hard not to think about just what they’re for.

The second day, Cas spends out back tending to his garden while Dean almost dials Sam’s number repeatedly before hanging up, torn between wanting to let his brother know that he’s getting married and not wanting to jinx it.

The third day, they head back into town. They arrive at the town hall just after it opens and it’s not until they’re standing in front of the clerk that Dean realizes they don’t have any witnesses. The clerk assures him that they don’t need one for civil ceremonies and the next ten minutes pass in a blur until Dean is being prompted to place the ring on Cas’ finger.

He does so with shaking hands, stilled only once Cas places one of his own on top and gives Dean a patient smile. He’s this calm for a reason, Dean finally realizes.

This doesn’t change anything.

Married or not, they’ve already promised themselves to each other for the rest of their lives. Til death do them part doesn’t even begin to describe it, and in sickness and in health is almost laughable at this point.

This really doesn’t change anything.

Dean’s own hand is still as Cas takes his turn, sliding the silver ring upon Dean’s finger. They say their “I do”s when prompted by the clerk, exchange a short, firm kiss, and just like that it’s over.

They’re married. 

*

When Jody invites them to dinner about a week later, they still haven’t told anyone. Sam and Eileen will be there as well as Jack and the girls - it’s a regular family reunion and the perfect chance to announce the big news to everyone.

Dean has a better idea.

“Let’s not tell anyone,” he says. “At least, not before dessert. Let’s see if they notice first.”

They’re in the Impala, about half an hour away from Jody’s place. 

Cas shoots him an amused look. “Is this because Sam claimed he always knew we’d get together when we first told him we were involved?”

“No,” Dean lies. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, seeing Cas still giving him that look from the corner of his eye. “Fine, yes. But he didn’t know, for the record. He just likes to pretend he’s always on top of this shit.”

“He doesn’t like to admit when you’ve surprised him,” Cas agrees.

The conversation ends there but Dean’s plan is apparently agreed upon since once they arrive at Jody’s, Cas doesn’t say a word about their recent relationship upgrade. Jody doesn’t seem to notice anything different, but then Dean didn’t expect her to. She’s not the one they spend most of their time around. Neither do Donna, Alex, Claire or Kaia, none of them surprises. Patience, Dean is less sure about, but she at least doesn’t say anything. Her eyes do linger unusually long but that could mean anything.

Damn psychics.

Sam and Eileen arrive half an hour after Dean and Cas, Jack in tow. This is the real test; Sam and Dean may not spend as much time together in the past few months as they did in the years before but he’s still the person who knows Dean best and would be the most likely to notice a difference.

And yet, nothing.

Dean tries not to feel too smug.

They go through dinner without anyone mentioning it. Dean makes a point of reaching across the table as many times as he can, showing off the ring glinting on his finger. Cas must notice him doing it, judging by the fond exasperation on his face, but he’s the only one.

It isn’t until dessert that Patience breaks, patience (hah) clearly run out:

“Is no one going to mention that Dean and Castiel are wearing wedding rings?”

And all hell breaks loose.

Sam is wounded - mostly over Dean and Cas not telling him before they got married, though Dean can tell some part of it is his pride at not seeing this coming - but he’s over it soon enough, once they explain that it wasn’t a big deal, not some proper ceremony, just a quick affirmation of what they already knew.

“See if I make you Best Man at my wedding after this, jerk,” Sam tells Dean.

“Your wedding?” Eileen asks pointedly. 

Jody and Donna offer their congratulations before the conversation can get awkward, and Kaia, Alex, and Patience chime in with theirs as well. Jack looks confused at the whole proceeding, finally asking whether this means there won’t be any bouquet to catch, which only means Dean has gravely failed him in his pop culture education (oh, who’s he kidding, as if half the romcoms Jack has watched didn’t come directly from the recommended tab on Dean’s Netflix account). 

Finally, with a pointed elbow from Kaia and a hangdog expression from Cas, Claire mumbles that she’s happy for them. While Dean doesn’t doubt that’s true he also knows that this is more complicated for her than the rest of them, and for the first time he kind of feels guilty about springing this news on everyone. 

It doesn’t last long, not after Donna cheerfully raises her glass and proposes a toast to the happy couple and everyone else follows suit. They chant for them to kiss and, blushing outrageously, Dean complies, leaning over to press a quick kiss against Cas’ lips. 

“So, who proposed?” Sam asks once the hooting and hollering has calmed.

“Cas did,” Dean says, slinging an arm around his husband’s - his husband’s - shoulders. “And it was the least romantic proposal of all time, you should’ve heard him.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “If I had left it up to you, we never would have gotten married.”

“He didn’t even give me time to pick out flowers,” Dean informs Sam gravely. 

“There’s always the vow renewal,” Cas says, the casual statement managing to sound like a threat, and Dean shuts up. 

The conversation moves on, the mood noticeably cheerier. As Jack and Sam launch into a story of their most recent hunt, Dean leans against Cas.

“We could have flowers, if you want,” he mutters. 

Cas smiles at him, so bright and easy that it makes Dean’s heart stutter. He takes Dean’s hand, rubbing his thumb over the cool silver of Dean’s ring.

“That’s not necessary,” he says. “I’ve got everything I want right here.”

[hacash]

ted lasso 2x06 thoughts

OK FANDOM HOW ARE WE FEELING

Rebecca texting her 'mystery lightning man' in bed while her hot stupid side piece makes her breakfast is just...that is a power move on a whole other level. I am in awe. Queen. Goddess.

Between Jamie's dad, Rebecca's parents, and the ongoing mystery of Ted's father...does anyone on this show have a good relationship with their parents besides Sam?? Is Higgins going to have to adopt the entire cast?

He'd do a good job of it, to be certain - it was an easily overlooked plot line, but I love that while fan-favourites Ted, Nate and Rebecca all straight away bottle doing the right thing and telling Beard that his relationship is an unhealthy one, Higgins makes the call to step up and do good. Last season one of the core aspects of Higgins' arc was not telling the truth that needed to be told and we saw how much it bothered him, and I love how that's such a key part of his character. He's such a good dad.

And on that note: avoidance of difficult issues was such a part of this episode, from Ted's phone call about Henry to Beard's relationship, to Rebecca and her delightfully batty mum. I do think this is one of those arcs that would probably have landed better if we saw the whole season as a binge-watch, because we'd be able to see it playing out a lot easier, but it's so clear to see that our heroes are dealing with a lot of emotional repression (we're in England, after all) and I am loving this train wreck it's becoming.

The pub regulars were on fire in this episode. Between Baz backing down from his rather...enthusiastic fanboying and their heckling of GBBO (we've all done it, right?) I'm really glad we got them on our screens again.

I loved the little scene of Ted strolling about the grounds saying hi to the non-football employees of Richmond - it's a nice reminder that he's done so much for the club morale beyond the actual team members.

‘I am a strong and capable man. I am not a piece of shit.’ Ok, who the fuck has been hurting Colin?

Jamie was spot-on perfect this episode. I'm amazed at how smoothly Phil Dunphy passed from 'obnoxious little weasel' to 'himbo comedy gold' in the space of one season; he is a really underrated comedy character and I hope the showrunners make the most of it. I'm torn between 'bad hair' and 'so I can go back to being a prick?' as the funniest moment, but honestly it was all good. I also love how he and Roy are clearly settling into the fond exasperation of best frenemies - we got a sliver of it at the gala episode last season and I'm looking forward to more.

Also the first signs that the Gospel of Ted isn't always 100%: it was good to see Roy correcting Ted's coaching of Jamie and arranging that delightfully spiteful foul-and-goal. And Nate! Nate arranging the final play when Beard and Roy were spiralling!!

I'm still so worried about Nate and obviously there's more drama and pain in store, but for now I'm just buzzing about him actually getting the recognition he deserves. Nate the Great!

I'm always excited about the little team moments, because we never get enough of them, but seeing the happiness of the team after the win, inviting Sharon out for a drink, even just the moments of Isaac and Colin goofing around in the taxi (I miss their broship!) all warmed my heart.

And now onto the main event:

SAM IS THE MYSTERY BANTR MAN. Apart from my bemusement about twenty-one year olds who casually quote poets on dating apps (this...does not happen in my universe at all) I am both so worried and so intrigued. I really find the idea of a proper thing between him and Rebecca leaving a bit of a bad taste in the mouth - the age gap is significant, she's his boss, they're so nice as friends - but the show-writers have handled other difficult issues really well, so I trust they can handle this too.

I've already said that the parallels that would emerge between Rebecca 'n Sam (Rebecca dating a much younger man with such a notable power imbalance) and Rupert's own dating history...would be an interesting one. If she does pursue something with Sam I kinda hope this gets brought up? Because honestly if we had a male boss in his forties dating his twenty-one year old female employee on the show we would all be kicking off about it, and it's pretty skeevy not to at least acknowledge that when the genders are swapped.

AND TED. OH TED. I have so many feels about this that I can't all get down - I'm not quite sure why he was hearing replays of Jamie's dad in his head, but the 'father issues' klaxon is blaring loud and clear - but I'm just so glad it ended the way it did, with him finally asking Sharon for help. Roll on next Friday.

ETA: I just realised Sam’s the one who helps Jamie up after his foul and then stops the Spurs player from clobbering him. Oh. My. Heart.

[babyboibucky]

Babysitting Bucky - Part 5

Pairing: FATWS!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,368

Summary: You’ve been assigned by the government to keep an eye on the Winter Soldier to ensure that he was no longer a threat to the world.

A/N: It has begun lmfao, check out the link at the end of this post if you’d like to be tagged in the next updates! Would love to receive feedbacks! 

MASTERLIST

-

You found yourself in the conference room of the Avengers compound, together with Sam, Bucky, Sharon and Fury discussing about an upcoming mission.

Sharon went over the brief of the mission with everyone. There was an intel about a certain drug cartel that decided to expand their business and venture into the trade of biological weapons as well. Grabbing the folder on the desk, you skimmed through the information and frowned when your eyes landed on a familiar name.

“Black Sparrow? I thought the entire organization was taken down during the raid years ago?” You asked.

Bucky turned to you, “You know these guys?”

“One of my first missions, I was the assigned liaison officer to check up on the whistleblower who was placed under the witness protection program.” You explained.

Sharon sighed, “Apparently, not everyone was imprisoned. Whoever decided to keep the organization going, we have no idea.”

The mission required all of you to find out about the illegal trades. There wasn’t much information provided, except for the tip that an important trade might be taking place soon.

“Black Sparrow’s nest is said to be hidden within a fruit shop downtown.” Sharon added.

Fury let Sam takeover the strategizing, with him deciding to do a stakeout to see how the organization operates. Once the trade takes place, raid the nest, find out the other groups involved and most importantly the source of biological weapons.

“You up for a stakeout, Buck?” Sam asked.

Bucky shrugged and glanced at you, “Only if the babysitter agrees to do so.”

You let out an exasperated breath, “Mister Barnes, I would appreciate it if you’d address me properly.” You scolded.

Sam cleared his throat, “Alright. Sharon and I will try to research on the potential groups involved in the trades. Stakeout starts tonight so pack your things.”

-

All your things have been packed and you were about to leave your room when you received a call from none other than Secretary Ross.

“Ugh, what does he want now?” You complained to yourself before accepting the call.

“I heard about the stakeout, Agent. Isn’t it convenient?”

You rolled your eyes; the secretary’s voice was too chirpy, as if he was excited. He was definitely up to something, what it was, you still didn’t know. Something about the mission you were tasked to do was off. They didn’t even tell you for how long you needed to tag along the Winter Soldier.

“Yes, sir. I will make sure to keep an eye on the subject and report whatever it is that I find out of place.” You reassured, hoping that the secretary would simply hum in agreement and end the call.

“Good. But wouldn’t it be better if you stir things up a bit?” He asked.

You frowned, “I don’t understand what you mean, sir.”

Secretary Ross chuckled, “Push his buttons, Agent. See how he reacts to certain triggers.”

God, he really wants you to dig some dirt on Bucky. You were supposed to tell him that you already tried doing so and that nothing bad happened, but the Secretary reminded you that he wanted to see a detailed report about it and ended the call.

You didn’t want to push Bucky’s buttons anymore. Bringing up the Soldat seemed too much already and he had already proven how much in control he was of himself. However, you felt conflicted as well since you needed to file a report. You could easily fake it though, but you were afraid that the secretary might have eyes and ears lurking around.

You were too deep into your thoughts, almost losing track of the time. Thankfully, FRIDAY interrupted and informed you that Bucky and Sam were already outside the compound, waiting for you.

-

“You’re eight minutes late, Agent.” Sam reprimanded as you approached them.

“Did you have a hard time packing Bucky’s diapers and feeding bottles?” He teased.

Bucky grunted in dismay, “Jesus, Sam.”

“Sorry, had to take a phone call from the secretary.” You responded and began placing your things inside the trunk of the car.

Bucky stiffened at the mention of Secretary Ross, his hands tightened into fists at his side. You eyed his stance and noticed that he seemed uncomfortable. Who wouldn’t be if the government had their eyes on you?

“Nothing to worry about, Mister Barnes. You’re all good. I made sure of that.” You told him reassuringly before sliding into the passenger’s seat.

Bucky drove to the stakeout location with an uncomfortable silence in the air with the occassional directions coming from the GPS. You were slightly nervous about being on a week-long stakeout. It wasn’t because you were afraid of Bucky, but being with him by yourself was intimidating.

Seven days with the Winter Soldier. With no one else around.

You and the Winter Soldier. On a stakeout. For an entire week.

The more you thought about it, the more it was beginning to sink in. You’ve had your fair share of stakeouts in the past, but you were either by yourself or paired someone you closely worked with. But a stakeout with Bucky Barnes? How the fuck were you going to keep calm the entire week and maintain your calm persona?

“So...” Bucky trailed, tone unsure as if he too was uncomfortable with the silence and decided to break it but not knowing how to proceed.

“Do you want to turn on the radio?” He asked and cleared his throat, keeping his gaze on the road.

You looked out the window, “Yeah, why not.” You said with faux nonchalance.

Bucky quickly turned it on and adjusted the volume. He skimmed through various radio stations before settling on one.

Despite having the radio playing in the background, the atmosphere between you and Bucky remained awkward and uncomfortable. You could tell that Bucky could feel it too, so you decided to start a conversation.

“How has it been being an Avenger?”

You didn’t know why you chose that question, but it was the first thing that popped into your mind.

Bucky let out a soft chuckle, “Is that part of your research on me or are you actually trying to start a conversation?” He asked, glancing at you with amusement.

“You know what, forget about it, Mister Barnes.” You waved off.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I was genuinely curious.” He sheepishly responded, “But to answer your question, it’s been...weird so to speak. Especially having someone watch my every move.”

You shrugged, “Well, I apologize but I don’t have a choice. This is my job and I have to—“

“I know, Agent. You don’t need to explain, I completely understand. I’m really trying not to make it hard for you to do your job.” He explained.

You were actually surprised at how easy it was to talk to Bucky. You were expecting him to be completely broody and tight-lipped, considering all the things he went through. There were times when he’d be moody of course, but for the most part, he was friendly. And very kind.

“Well then I appreciate it, Mister Barnes.” You stated.

Bucky let out a breathy laugh, “I’m still looking forward to the day when you’d call me, Bucky.” He said and gave you a smile.

You felt your face heat up from the way he smiled at you and how his eyes crinkled at the sides. He almost looked the same as he did in his photos dated back to the 40’s, when he was oozing with that boyish charm and innocence before he was drafted for the war.

You immediately looked away and bit your lip.

-

The two of you arrived at the cheap motel that was situated a few blocks away from the fruit shop. The building was old and almost looked dilapidated. It was known to be the number one spot for illegal transactions. It was the perfect place for a stakeout.

“The old lady at the reception seemed suspicious of us, I saw how she eyed the both of us when we checked in.” You said upon entering the motel room, groaning at the stench that welcomed your nostrils.

Obviously, the room was far from decent given the quality of the motel itself. There were two beds separated by a night desk and a small coffee table; the cream curtains were splotchy and dusty, some parts of the wallpaper were torn apart and the flooring creaked with every single step.

“I think she was merely judging us, thinking we’re one of those couples.” Bucky said as he placed his bags on the bed.

“Those couples?” You asked, walking over to the other bed and inspecting the bedding.

“Well, I heard this motel is a popular location for shooting x-rated videos.” Bucky explained casually as he walked towards the window, pushing the curtains aside, revealing the perfect view of Black Sparrow’s nest.

You almost choke on your own spit, “You mean to say...that old lady thought we were going to shoot porn?!”

Bucky hummed, “Maybe. It’s probably for the best, that way we’ll remain unsuspicious. Less chances of being interrupted as well.” he replied casually, as if it was no big deal but you also noticed that the corner of his lips curved into a slight smirk.

Clearing your throat, you regained your composure and went to unpack your things instead, starting with some of the weapons you brought. A stakeout often resulted to a raid so you had to make sure that you were prepared in case of an attack. Bucky moved away from the window and closed the curtains again before sitting on his bed.

“Those all yours?” he asked with interest as he watched you arrange your knives and guns on top of your bed.

You glanced at him for a quick second and saw the glint in his eyes as he observed your arsenal, you just hummed in response and started cleaning your guns while Bucky watched in silence.

“When we sparred...” he trailed and you froze, expecting him to confront you when you brought up the Soldat to trigger him.

“You used Romanoff’s technique. Where did you learn that?” he asked.

You shrugged, “Mister Barnes, it’s not that hard to learn that move. I’m just as trained as you and Mister Wilson, I know a lot of moves.” you explained but Bucky didn’t seem to buy it.

“It’s actually kinda hard to execute that move. Not a lot of trained agents can do that easily.” he pressed.

You pursed your lips before looking up at him, “Sounds to me like you’re trying to compliment my skills, Mister Barnes.”

Bucky ended up letting go of the topic.

-

The first few hours of the stakeout was uneventful; you and Bucky simply kept watch to see whether there were suspicious movements in the fruit shop. It seemed to be a regular fruit shop but there were certain people walking in and out of it that looked pretty shady.

This was going to be a difficult task.

There were small conversations between you and Bucky, mostly formal and about the mission. Everything seemed to be going well but you knew that the longer the both of you would stakeout together, the more it was going to be uncomfortable. You figured that you’d cross that bridge when you get there.

It was past six when you felt a pang of hunger; the last time you had a meal was during lunch. You needed to get food before your stomach could even embarrass you in front of Bucky who remained staring out of the window, keeping watch.

“I’m getting us food for dinner, would you like anything?” you asked.

Bucky shook his head, “Anything is fine.” he offered a small smile.

You left the motel and thankfully, there was a nearby Mcdonald’s a couple blocks away. On your way back, you decided to casually pass by the fruit shop to get a closer look. You didn’t want to linger around but you did notice that there were certain people who kept on going in and out of the store throughout the day. You rushed back to your room to inform Bucky about it and upon stepping inside, you were welcomed by the sight of the Winter Soldier fresh out of the shower wearing only a towel that was wrapped around his waist while he was drying his hair with another towel.

Your eyes immediately zoomed in on the droplets of water that was running from Bucky’s neck down to his pecs, sliding lower to his chiseled abs. Your eyes remained on his abdomen, even when the water had disappeared into the towel around his waist. By the time you snapped out of your trance, you shifted your gaze back to Bucky’s face hoping that he didn’t catch you staring at his body.

Oh, but it was too late because your eyes were immediately met by a pair of baby blues.

“I...b-bought...” you stammered and wanted to slap yourself for sounding like an idiot. “...dinner from uh...Burger King.” you continued, unable to look away from Bucky’s piercing gaze.

“Mcdonald’s.” he said.

“What?”

“You bought from Mcdonald’s...not Burger King.” Bucky corrected you, pointing towards the brown paper bag in your hands.

You coughed and finally managed to look away from Bucky’s half-naked figure, “Yes, I meant Mcdonald’s. Sorry.” you softly said and pre-occupied yourself by taking out the food from the paper bag and placing them on the small table.

As you focused your attention on arranging the food on the desk, you felt Bucky hover behind you. His bare chest slightly pressing against your back as he reached for the french fries that was still inside the paper bag. You stood still and tried to keep your cool despite the closeness between you and Bucky. He pulled away just as quickly and grinned when you looked back at him with a frown.

“You smell good, Agent.” he said before grabbing his clothes from his bed and walking back into the bathroom to get dressed.

You blinked a couple of times before you realized what had just happened.

“Fuck!” you whispered under your breath.

This was going to be one hell of a stakeout.

-

Babysitting Bucky Tag List:

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[katymacsupernatural]

Not My Reality Part 2

Jensen Ackles x Reader

Story Summary: Y/N wakes up in a nightmare. Is it her new reality, or can she figure out how to fix it. How can she get pack to her husband Jensen?

READ PART 1 HERE

“Yeah, you’re married to me,” You retorted, angrily wiping away a tear. This day was completely destroying you, and you knew it was nowhere close to being finished. “We’ve been married for two years now. Living in Vancouver. Jared and I met when he was filming Gilmore Girls. Why can’t any of you remember this?”

Jared roughly took you by your shoulders, pushing you through the hallway until he forced you to sit down on the couch. Jensen followed along cautiously, perching on one of the arm chairs. “Jared, what the hell is going on?” He asked, and you wish you had an answer. 

Hastily wiping away another tear as it fell, you wrapped your arms around yourself, wishing they were the comforting arms of your husband. But he was looking at you as if you were crazy, and you knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. 

“I have no freaking idea,” Jared answered, sitting down in the other chair, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was on my morning run, and found her standing in the park. She has no idea how she got here, or why. No money, no phone, anything.”

“Y/N, what drugs are you on this time?” Jensen asked, his green eyes searching your face.

“I’m not on drugs!” You exclaimed. “You of all people should know why I’d never do drugs!”

Both men looked at each other, completely exasperated. “Y/N, I really don’t know what’s going on. But Jared and I are so freaking tired of you and your escapades. You know very well that you’ve only been out of rehab for a couple of months. I was really hoping you would stay clean this time.”

This sentence was the final nail in the coffin. You were so lost, and alone, and had no idea what to do next. Your face crumpled as your chest constricted with fear and anxiety. Tears streamed down your face. “No, this isn’t real,” you whispered. 

With tears streaking down your face, you peered back up at Jensen, pleading for help. “I don’t know what’s going on, but that’s not me. Not the real me anyways. I would never touch drugs! You should know that. Not after Felicity had overdosed in college. I just want to wake up and this all be over.”

The two men stood up and headed into the kitchen, leaving you alone. You could hear their hurried whispering, but it was too soft to make out any of the words. Jared’s laptop was sitting on the coffee table, and you opened it. Quickly searching your name, you were dismayed at what you saw.

There were so many stories of you. About your guest appearances on Supernatural and other shows. But more than that, it was the stories about the rehab visits, and crazy stunts that you always seemed to pull. It was you, but at the same time it wasn’t. This you had shorter hair, and multiple tattoos. While Jared and Jensen continued to argue, you typed in Jensen’s name. Your heart shattered at what you saw. Jensen was smiling at a gorgeous woman, their arms wrapped around three beautiful children. 

“He has kids,” you whispered. In your reality, or whatever the hell it was, the two of you had just started trying for a baby. Which you think you had already succeeded, and had planned on taking a test that morning. Holding your hand to your belly, you scrolled through more pictures, trying to wrap your mind around this. 

Jensen came over then, closing the laptop and sitting down on the edge of the coffee table. “Listen, no more lies. Jared and I only want to help you. So please, tell me. Are you back on drugs?”

Shaking your head, your eyes filled up with tears once again. “No. I promise I’m not.”

He searched your face for a moment. “Jared, I believe her.”

“Then how the hell can we explain what’s going on now?” Jared asked, standing behind Jensen, eyeing you as if you were completely crazy.

“Listen, I know you’re not going to believe me, but I need to say this.” Taking a deep breath, you knew this was going to make you look crazier than before. “Please just listen. Give me a chance to explain.”

“Of course,” they both answered, but you could see the sceptisism on their faces, and you knew that no matter what you said now, they probably wouldn’t believe it. 

“I don’t know how I got here. I live in Vancouver, full time. With my husband, who happens to be Jensen Ackles,” you could see the raised eyebrow, but you continued. “Not this Jensen. My Jensen. We’ve been married for two years. I’m a regular on Supernatural now. Jared is my best friend, who introduced us. I haven’t had a glass of alcohol since college. No drugs. I was laying in bed with my husband this morning, and when I closed my eyes, everything changed. Now I’m here, confused out of my mind, and I just want to get home.”

“You’re acting as if this is an episode of Supernatural,” Jensen sighed. “But things like that don’t happen. Not in real life. Maybe you didn’t take drugs knowingly. Maybe it was a prank.”

“Look!” You exclaimed. “No tattoos. No piercings. I noticed a scar on my...her face. Do I have that?”

They looked you over closely, their eyes widing as your word sunk in. “Well, there...there has to be a reason behind that.”

“Yeah, and if you can figure that out, please let me know. I’d like to get back to my real life.”

Jensen and Jared continued to talk while you excused yourself to find the bathroom. You passed by photos. Photos of Jared and his family, photos of Jared and Jensen together. Not a single picture of you. 

Wiping away the tears that you couldn’t seem to stop from falling, you quickly did your business before joining the two men back in the living room. “Listen, we’re going to go to Jensen’s house. We’re going to figure this out, I promise.”

Anxiety had your knee tapping as you sat in the back of Jensen’s SUV. You nervously picked at the loose thread on your sweatshirt, having no idea what you were going to find there. If his wife was home. How could you just stand there and watch as she interacted with her husband. It should be you, getting ready to find out your news. Sharing what you knew was going to be good news with Jensen later that evening. 

The house was huge. Parking in the garage, Jared and Jensen quickly led the way, letting you follow behind. Pictures filled the bookshelves and walls as you passed. So many pictures of Jensen with his beautiful wife. His adorable kids. So much love between everyone. It created this large knot in your belly. “Y/N, come on,” Jensen muttered, leading the way into his office. “Dee and the kids won’t be home until this evening so we have some time to figure things out. What is the last thing you remember before the park bench?”

“Being in bed with my Jensen. Spending an intimate moment together,” You said, ignoring the raised eyebrow of Jared.

“So, wait,” Jared held up his hand. “Our Y/N has never seen you naked. Maybe there’s a mole, or scar. Something that would just prove she’s not lying.”

Jensen thought carefully, but you answered first. “Well, I don’t have the scar that this Y/N does. But my Jensen has a scar. It’s his inner thigh. About an inch long, and ragged. He got it from a barbed wire fence when he was 15.”

Jensen’s mouth gaped open. “I have that scar,” he mumbled. “And there is no way our Y/N would have known that. 

Read Part 2

Dean/Jensen Tags:  @acortez82 @acreativelydifferentlove @adoptdontshoppets @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278   @bi-danvers0  @cap-just-said-language @colette2537   @deansgirl215  @flamencodiva @hamiltrash1411 @its-not-a-tulpa @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @justanotherwinchester @just-another-winchester @karouwinchester @keikoraventeller  @krys198478 @librarygeekery @magssteenkamp @misspygmypie @mlovesstories @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk  @mrspeacem1nusone @nothinbuttrouble2 @ria132love @ruprecht0420  @screechingartisancashbailiff   @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @squirrelnotsam @team-free-will-you-idjiot @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @thoughts-and-funnies @torn-and-frayed @tricksterdean @wonderfulworldofwinchester @woodworthti666 @beabutterfly987 @pink-sparkly-witch @sexyvixen7 @alwaysananglophile

My Reality Tags: @alwaysananglophile @deans-baby-momma 

Forever Tags: @aditimukul @alexwinchester23​ @algudaodoce03-blog @amanda-teaches​ @andreaaalove​   @artisticpoet​ @atc74 @be-amaziing @camelotandastronauts @caswinchester2000​ @cpag7 @chelsea072498  @closetspngirl​ @deanwanddamons​ @docharleythegeekqueen​ @emoryhemsworth​ @ericaprice2008​  @esoltis280​   @tatted-trina6​ @foxyjwls007​ @gh0stgurl​ @goldenolaf25​ @growningupgeek​  @heartislubbingdubbing​ @heyitscam99​ @hobby27​ @horsegirly99blog​ @imsuperawkward​ @internationalmusicteacher​ @iwriteaboutdean​  @jayankles​ @jensen-gal​ @justsomedreaming​ @just-another-busyfangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son​ @linki-locks11​ @littleblue5mcdork​  @lowlyapprentice​   @mersuperwholocked-lowlife​ @mogaruke​ @monkeymcpoopoo​ @musiclovinchic93​  @nanie5​   @percussiongirl2017​ @plaid-lover-bay25​   @roonyxx​ @ronja-uebrick​ @roxyspearing​  @samanddeanmyheroes​ @sandlee44​ @shamelesslydean​ @simonsbluee​ @sillesworldofwriting​ @sgarrett49​ @spnbaby-67​ @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​ @spnwoman​   @superbadassnatural​ @thatcrazybookwormgeek​   @thewinchesterchronicles​ @valsworldofcreativity​ @vvinch3st3r​  @whimsicalrobots​ @winchester-writes​ @zombiewerewolfqueen​

[calaofnoldor]

Sixth Time’s the Charm [1]

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean, OCs

Words: 1,550

Series Summary: All the times Dean has tried to get Sam to admit his feelings for you.

Chapter Summary: Dean asks you to flirt with a cop for info. Sam is not pleased.

Warnings: jealous!sam, protective!sam, huffy!sam, badass!reader, exasperated squirrel, mutual pining, idiots in love, tropesss

A/N: this is part one of a six-part mini series that is essentially an amalgamation of all the jealous/protective tropes. sorry not sorry?

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

The first time was an impromptu experiment. Of course, Dean already knew Sam had a crush on you; he raised the kid for crying out loud. That and the way Sam had stumbled over his own tongue and feet the first time they encountered you (and nearly every time thereafter) made it quite obvious to everyone… well, except you, apparently. Regardless, Dean figured it was just the case of a simple crush and poor Sammy being unable to match his finesse with the ladies.

So when the three of you came across a sleazy police captain, who was in no way shy about having the hots for you, during a rugaru hunt in Nebraska, Dean was rather taken aback by his brother’s unusual reaction.

Strolling into the Omaha police department with you and Sam on either side, the older Winchester had identified the captain immediately from his picture online.

“Captain Anderson,” Dean addressed the man directly in a low, authoritative tone, “I’m Agent Parker, and these are my partners Agents Stan and Lee.” He motioned to his right and left side as he introduced you, accordingly, pausing as you flashed your fake badges in unison.

The captain was a tall, slightly rotund fellow, with a mustache to rival an 80’s porn star’s, and he scoffed haughtily at your entrance. “What the hell do the feds want with us? And did they really hafta send three of ya?” He gestured pointedly at you with a patronizing raise of his chin and your blood began to boil at the implicitly misogynistic remark.

“Well no offense, Captain,” you spoke up; your FBI get-up always gave you an extra boost of confidence (something about the power suit vibes you supposed), plus men like him really pissed you off, “but there have been five deaths here within the last week, and from what I understand, your team has a grand total of zero working theories and just as many leads, so perhaps you can understand why the government would show some concern.”

“Mm, mm, mm!” Captain Anderson chanted obnoxiously in response. He gave you a painfully slow once-over, eyes filled with a crude and unrestrained lechery that forced a shiver down your spine. “A woman who knows how to take charge… I like that,” he licked his lips lasciviously.

Dean was torn between awaiting your likely ruthless and epic comeback or telling the douchebag off himself when he heard Sam clear his throat forcedly beside him. Looking over, he was surprised to find his giant of a little brother to be a picture of rage. Strained jaw, clenched fists, distended chest, and a murderous glare directed unwaveringly at the Omaha police captain.

Meanwhile, you were finding it difficult to resist the urge to roll your eyes and repress your temper to maintain a professional front. “We need information and clearance,” you stated firmly, ignoring the cop’s inappropriate and debaucherous display, “Are you going to hand it over or not?”

“Sorry little miss, no can do! You’re prolly gonna hafta talk to the chief if you want in on a big boy case like this one… but, you know, I can think of some ways you might be able to convince me otherwise,” he finished with a lewd wink before taking off.

Sam looked like he was about to lunge at the captain, but Dean put a hand on his arm to ground him. He was starting to suspect Sam’s behavior might have more to do with you than the fact that the captain was a regular dickhead. After all, Sam was usually the calmer and more rational of the brothers, especially during hunts.

You were too busy holding yourself back to notice though, staring daggers into Anderson’s back as you watched him walk away.

“What an asshole. I’m sorry, Y/N,” Dean began. An idea was forming in his head, one that could help him test his theory. “Look, you know I wouldn’t ask this if there was a better way, but dyou think, maybe, just this once, you could… you know? Turn on the charm a bit? Just so we can get in?”

Sam had not been fully engaged in the conversation until just then, too focused on trying to mollify the inexplicable rage that Captain Anderson had incited within him, but Dean’s request certainly caught his attention.

“What?! Dean! You can’t be serious. No. We’ll find another way. Just- No.” Sam’s voice was harder and deeper than usual and for a moment you lost yourself in it, daydreaming that perhaps he was exhibiting a sense of jealously. But who were you kidding? Sam was just a nice guy who detested sexist pricks like Anderson; this had nothing to do with you.

“No, it’s fine. Dean’s right. This is the easiest way. I’ll do it,” you stated quietly before adding with a small smile, “I can suck it up on account of saving some lives.”

Dean grinned and you walked away before Sam could protest any further. When you reached the captain’s office, you didn’t bother knocking on the open door, “Alright, Captain Anderson-“

“Please, call me Frank.” He looked up at you with such a smug and revolting expression, you decided there was no way you could follow through with Dean’s plan.

“Listen, Frank,” you crossed your arms in what you hoped was an ‘I mean business’ stance, but quickly dropped them when you realized the action had unwittingly highlighted your cleavage in the button-down blouse you were wearing and spurred yet another round of gratuitous leering from Frank. “What’s it gonna take for you to hand over the case files and grant us full access to the evidence and crime scenes?”

“Well, since I like you, I’ll make it easy for ya. How about we start with a smile?” He had leaned forward in his seated position behind his desk as he spoke, and you almost smacked him right then.

As you turned to leave, however, it was Anderson who smacked you, open palmed and right on the ass. You forced yourself to take a deep breath before slowly turning back around. Keeping your movements deliberate and unhurried, you bent over his desk, ignoring the impulse to gag at the greasy, utterly unholy scent that filled your nostrils as you got close enough to whisper in his ear, “You know what, I’ll make it easy for you too. How about, if you give my partners and I complete authorization on this case, I won’t report you to the feds for sexual harassment? See, I know people in the upper ranks and I’ve got a lawyer who wipes the floor with guys like you on the daily.” It was all lies, of course, but you figured it was for a good cause.

“So what’s it gonna be, Captain?” You asked after straightening yourself back up.

As you’d hoped, the bastard was looking a little worse for wear, though you could tell he was trying to retain what little he could of his arrogant persona. “You little bitch.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Fine. You can have it,” he pointed at a stack of file folders on his desk, and then sighed as he produced three security passes, “Go crazy! Go fuck yourself.”

“Gladly,” you sassed, ready to strut out of there with everything you came for in hand.

Behind you, things had not gone so smoothly. When Sam saw Anderson slapping your butt, he was fully prepared to march over and break the captain’s nose, but Dean again held him back, “Woah, hey, you know Y/N can handle herself. What’s up with you?”

Then when he was forced to watch you lean in tantalizingly close and whisper something in Anderson’s ear, Sam experienced an entirely foreign sensation. He was still burning with fury, but that anger was joined by a peculiar ache. His heart had risen to his throat as he stood there, completely transfixed, a look of dejection and longing written across his face.

‘Huh,’ Dean had thought with an internal smirk, ‘Sammy’s got it ba-ad!’ he sing-song-ed in his own head, storing the information away for later, when he could find an opportune moment to tease his baby brother about it.

For now, Dean gave you two thumbs up as he watched you return with a triumphant grin, holding up three official passes by their lanyards.

“Got it all. We’re completely in,” you supplied each brother a security pass when you reached them.

“Damn. You are good, woman! What did you even say to him?” Dean chuckled as the three of you left the station.

“Oh nothing, just a bit of light threatening.”

Sam stopped to look at you quizzically. “Wait, what? You mean you didn’t- you weren’t… flirting with him?”

“Nah, I was too appalled by the thought to go down that route.”

“Oh,” he huffed out, looking down with drooped shoulders and an awkward twitch of a smile. You could have sworn he looked somewhat relieved, but decided not to read too much into it, too pleased with yourself to allow the ever-growing gloom of your unrequited love dampen your spirits.

The whole time Dean was staring back at the two of you in disbelief. ‘These goddamn idiots,’ he thought with an exasperated yet slightly amused shake of his head.

→ CARRY ON

thanks so much for reading! feedback always appreciated 💞

[bookerlausanne]

Now That I’m Free

A Destiel Secret Santa gift for @i-like-to-think-i-am-cool via this year’s @destielsecretsanta2020 ;)

I hope you have a wonderful holiday and that you can enjoy this fluffy, ridiculous mess I typed after 5 glasses of wine.

Summary: Dean finally has the words if he can only give them voice.

Warnings: I just had a breakup this week #2020, so this is the schmoopyiest, melodramatic, harlequinesque, most ridiculous thing I’ve ever written. I’m sorry it’s so short.  Post season 15. In no way canon compliant.

 “Now that I’m free to be

Myself, who am I?”

Mary Oliver, Blue Iris

 It was Christmas Eve and Dean Winchester was alone.

He sat in front of a beautiful tree filled with generic ornaments – nothing saved from his and Sammy’s childhood, nothing much to speak of on the road with their- with John. He wore his Star Wars ugly Christmas Sweater and sat staring at the lights with shitty cooking Bourbon in a chipped coffee mug sitting untouched and sweating next to him.

Sammy and Eileen are headed his way tomorrow, plans adjusted to accommodate Eileen’s eight-month pregnant body having trouble sleeping in anything other than her own bed. Dean would have been more than happy to drive to them, but the change of plans came too late to reach their house in time and the concern on Sam’s face begrudgingly prevented him from any teasing or complaints. Jack will be (Dean’s willing to bet) in pj’s and drinking hot cocoa in this very spot just waiting at 4:30 in the freaking morning for the rest of their family to arrive.

And Cas-

Well, Cas might show up, might not. Not like Dean’s his keeper or his bosom sister or his confidant or possibly even his friend, certainly not his lover-

Dean eyed the mug full of Bourbon and breathed out slowly. His jaw clenched and unbidden the last two years flashed before his eyes: Cas getting pulled into the Empty, defeating Chuck, Jack becoming the new Big Man Above, and Cas – fuck – Cas alive and standing in the middle of the Bunker with nothing more than a “Hello, Dean.” a perfunctory hug and an adios back to Heaven. Yet, again.

Dean knows he’s not being fair. Cas still half lives with him in the bunker. Well, not lives lives. Ok, so he does technically live here but in his own room and with barely any contact with Dean. Not really, not anymore. And Dean knows it’s been a rough time coming off something like what happened, what he endured – yet again – what he said. Confessed.

Dean shifts in his chair, closes his eyes, and tilts his head against the wall behind him.

“Fuck.”

It’s his fault and he knows it. He has always known. It’s always him. The air between him and Cas is nothing less than intense. Fraught. Cut it with a stone thick. Because for all that Cas found the courage to say everything he did that night, Dean has felt thick tongued and uncomfortable ever since. Which, of course, Cas has noticed and tried to give him space for. Which, of course, has hurt Cas’s feelings and created a seemingly vast distance of space between them. Which, of course, as previously mentioned, is all Dean’s fault.

But be it Kismet or Karma or just Jack, tonight that is going to change. It has too.

Because Dean isn’t getting any younger. It’s not like he’s unaware but it’s something he thinks about much more frequently than he used too – especially while working on fixing up the bunker to accommodate the next round of Hunters. A Bunch of Badass Bitches as Claire likes to say. Dean smiles at the memory of the exasperated look on Cas’s face hearing her say that.

“Suck it up, Buttercup.” He mumbles to himself before taking a moment to just breathe. He gets up and clears his small amount of dinner dishes and the mug to the kitchen before coming back to the tree. He stands there half transfixed, grits his teeth for a moment and begins.

“I pray to the angel Castiel – uh, hey Cas, look, I don’t know if you’re busy but I just need you to listen for a minute and uh yeah,” Dean clears his throat and takes a moment. “Back when, when you said what you said – look, I- I know things are strained right now and I take the blame for that, ok? You deserved a response then and after and now and I –“

The unmistakable sound of Cas appearing behind him makes him pause. And he knows, god knows Dean can sense Cas around him like they’re tethered heart to heart in any plane of existence. There is a brief silence filled with so much expectation it’s almost unbearable and Dean knows – as sure as he’s ever known anything – that this is the most important moment of his entire life. He feels sick. He feels a bead of terrified, anxious sweat roll down the side of his face. He continues.

“I- I don’t have to tell you some sob story about an unloving parent who heaped a bunch of homophobic shit onto his too-pretty son. At this point it’s hardly a secret that my dad was an ass. But that kind of fear that you develop…” Dean stops and shakes head. “Look, what matters is that I couldn’t respond to you that night. I couldn’t say anything. I didn’t know and – yeah maybe that makes me the biggest asshole in the world to be so blind but I – I didn’t know. And I didn’t know what to say. And, when you came back, I still didn’t know what to say. I was frozen.”

Dean feels the tension behind him wind tight and he knows – god he knows he’s fucking this up but he has to try. He opens his eyes to the lights of the tree in front of him and fights to hold it together.

“I was frozen in the eye of a storm – because, Cas, I’m not the hero in this story. I’m not the good guy – no matter how hard I try. I-I’m not worthy. I’m not – fuck – I’m selfish.” Dean’s terrified but he must turn around. He must face this. He turns with tears in his eyes and sees Cas standing there just as wide eyed and teary as he imagined he would be. He’s hanging onto Dean’s every word because it doesn’t matter if he knows every piece of Dean’s heart, he still needs to hear it. Dean walks over to Cas until their positions are a perfect match for that night. Cas sees the struggle and determination on Dean’s face – still beautiful – and begins to hope.

“Cas, I love you.”

There is one moment where both men feel as though caught in the eye of a storm. The shock of Dean’s confession stills both until suddenly –

“I love you, too. I should have said it then, that night. I should have said it then. I should have torn down the walls of the deepest pit of Hell, torn down the foundations of Heaven myself to find you and tell you that I love you, Cas. Because I do – fuck – Cas.” Dean’s hands are cupping the sides of Cas’s face, thumbs trailing through tears of joy and shock and awe streaming from his too-blue eyes. The sight of his tears cuts into the marrow of his bones and Dean realizes that he has never, will never love anyone like he loves Cas.

And then Dean kisses him. Soft and sweet and so full of love he feels like he could die with it because  despite every negative, horrible, shameful thought that tries to break loose and tear up his mind Dean finally understands. He finally has processed and internalized and begun to believe. As Cas laughs and pulls him close murmuring his own words of love before making Dean’s breath catch at the passion of his kiss – how he slides a hand in Dean’s hair and tilts him as he likes, tasting the sweetness of his hot, wet mouth. And when Cas breaks their kiss to sweep Dean in his arms – making them both laugh at how ridiculous they must look - just to spin him around and shout with joy… that belief within Dean grows even stronger.

He is worthy. Worthy of love.

And he’s finally ready to fall.

[xplrvibes]

Sprung | Sam and Colby Story

Title: Sprung

Summary: They had never been torn apart like that before.  Nobody had ever dared try it. 

Pairing: None 

Warnings: Sam and Colby’s arrest rehashed, brief talk of the jail system, mentions of anxiety 

Author’s Note: This is based on an ask someone sent me last night, about how Sam being one who bottles his emotions up until they explode in these sweeping declarations of love and tears.  Also, since it’s the jailaversary, and I always wanted to hear more about that saga from Sam’s POV, I just went ahead and did...this. I’m not a writer, so don’t judge me too harshly-but I’d love to know if you liked!

A/N 2: Now on AO3!

***

Sam has never seen a better sight than a disheveled, tired Colby Brock waiting for him outside of the police station.

The preceding 14 hours since Sam had last watched Colby disappear behind an ominous steel door with a painful smirk forced across his face and a tremor in his handcuffed hands had been some of the worst he had ever experienced in his life.  He had stood outside the police station in the muggy Florida air with no cell phone, no car, no idea of where he was or how to get to where he needed to be.

No Colby at his side.

They had never been torn apart like that before.  Nobody had ever dared try it.  Sam felt like a piece of him had been taken; a fundamental piece, like his liver or some shit.  He felt wrong in his skin without Colby by his side; especially knowing where he had left him, and that all of the responsibility of getting him out of there rested on his shoulders.

To say Sam was stressed, would be an understatement.

But Sam was nothing if not determined, and he made it work.  He sucked in a breath, steeled his spine, and made his way to a gas station pay phone to call the Irelands.

He had work to do.

***

Fourteen hours and multiple phone calls to worried parents and terrified friends and one extremely exasperated lawyer (”On a construction site in Florida? Sam...”) and management team later, Sam was finally told that Colby’s bail had been posted and he was being released.  Sam could go and get him.

He was never planning on letting anyone separate them like that again.

“Hey,” Colby muttered as Sam walked up to where he sat with a couple of fans outside the doors to the precinct, bail paperwork and a bag of his possessions in his shaking hand.  He looked distinctly un-Colby like at the moment; rattled, definitely and it showed.  He was pale, his hair was in a state of disarray, his Justin Bieber shirt-and God, who else but Colby would go to jail in a Justin Bieber fit?-was wrinkled and stretched at the collar.  He had a smile plastered to his face, but his eyes were shining bright with barely concealed anxiety.  He wanted out of this place, asap.

Sam let out the breath he had been holding since Colby had first been walked away from him by those damn guards.  He felt the missing piece of his soul settle back in to place.  His world realigned itself. 

Colby was back with him.

“Hey,” he responded back, and held out a hand to take Colby’s possession bag for him.  “Ready to head out?”

“Totally.”

***

After saying goodbye and taking a photo with the fans who had waited outside the police station with Colby, they got back in the rental car that Sam had gone to pick up from the abandoned school a few hours earlier and headed back towards the hotel.

“So, the fans said that everyone knows?” Colby asked quietly from the passenger seat.  His ring-less hands were flexing in his lap.  His voice was shaking.

Sam gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and cleared his throat.  “Um, yea,” he responded slowly.  “Yea, they found out and made it trend on twitter for like, a whole day.  Number one trending topic,” he added.

Colby whistled.  “Shit.”  He reached up to play with his earring-a nervous habit he had developed since getting his ears pierced the year prior-and winced when he realized the earring was no longer there.  His hand fell back to his lap, trembling.

“Yea,” Sam replied.  “By the time I got out last night, word was already everywhere.”  He swallowed and briefly glanced over at Colby.  “Our parents already knew.”

Colby glanced back.  “Did you talk to them?” He whispered.

Sam nodded.  “I talked to your mom, too.  Told her I wasn’t gonna let you rot in a jail cell.  She made me promise to get you out,” he smiled.  Colby didn’t smile back. “Dude, she’s ok, I promise.  Just worried about you.”

“She’s not mad?” Colby asked in a small voice.

“I mean, probably, but...” Sam shrugged.  Colby said nothing else.  What else was there to say?

The rest of the drive was in silence.

***

Although Sam had stayed with the Irelands while working tirelessly on getting Colby back, he didn’t think Colby would be up to going there and seeing everyone right now.  So, he took them back to their original hotel, which had thankfully been paid up for another day before the arrest.

Colby hadn’t questioned it.  He walked into their room and looked around at the mess they had left behind 30 hours prior before dropping his jail paperwork in a heap on the hotel table and heading over to his bed.  He slumped down on the bed with a tired sigh, turning to lean himself against the headboard and drawing his knees up in front of him. 

Sam sighed, and came to sit down next to Colby.  He bumped his shoulder into Colby’s in solidarity, and Colby huffed and leaned his head onto Sam’s shoulder.

The silence stretched out between them for a moment, comfortable and sure.  They didn’t need words.  They both always just knew.  It was a thing that their friends and even family would tease them for sometimes, their ability to just sit and be together, with no words, and draw some kind of silent strength from one another.  They didn’t care what anyone had to say about it, really.  It gave them both peace and reassurance, and that was what mattered.

“What do we do now?” Colby asked after a moment, exhaustion threaded in his voice.

Sam shifted slightly, and bumped his knee again Colby’s.  “Our lawyer’s working on it,” he replied quietly.  “She yelled at me for a while, but she’s gonna make it so we can go back home until the court date.”

“Oh, good,” Colby responded.  “Cause like, I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

Sam reached out a hand, and clasped Colby’s shaking one in his.  “You’re ok, though...right?” He asked in a quiet voice.

Colby nodded.  “Just like, it was scary, you know?” He responded.  “I didn’t like being alone, and everyone in there was nice to me and shit, but...”

Sam smiled.  Trust Colby to declare that everyone he shared jail space with was nice.  

“Dude, you are never allowed to go to jail without me again,” Sam declared, squeezing Colby’s hand.

Colby squeezed back.  “Don’t pay your bail next time, and join me,” he responded.  

He was joking, Sam knew, but he felt the panic and fear and guilt of the last 14 hours bubble up his throat anyway, and tears began to prick at his eyes. “Dude,” he gasped, “I’m never going to let anyone separate us like that ever again.”

Colby lifted his head to look in Sam’s eyes.  “I know, brother,” he replied slowly.

Sam shook his head.  The tears were brimming now, he could feel it.  The dam was bursting.  “No,” he sniffled, “Like, they walked you into the back and I saw how scared you were, brother, like I felt it and there was nothing I could do about it!  And then I had to go out there, alone, and leave you there!  Like, I never wanted that-”

“I know, Sam-”

“-Like, leaving you behind, or losing you, is my worst nightmare, dude!  Like, I can’t do it again, I don’t ever want anyone to do that to us again-”

“-Sam, they won’t-”

“-And like, I just love you so much, brother, you know that, right?”  Sam’s mini-tirade ended on a sob, as Sam turned and pulled Colby into his arms.  He didn’t hug Colby near enough, or articulate into words how much he loved him.  It wasn’t Sam’s style; he was never good with outward displays of emotions.  Of the two of them, Colby was always the one who wore his heart on his sleeve, and did so effortlessly.  Sam struggled with displays of affection and emotion.

He knew, in his more rational moments, that Colby knew him better than anyone else on the planet.  That Colby understand how much he meant to Sam, that Colby knew how much Sam loved him.  That words weren’t needed between them; that his actions were felt and deciphered and understood. 

But sometimes, it all just came bubbling out, spilling all over the place like a volcano.  When Sam got emotional, he went all in with said emotion, and Colby understood that, too.

Colby understood everything, when it came to Sam.

“I know, Sam,” Colby responded, arms wrapped tightly around Sam’s shoulders.  Sam turned his head into Colby’s neck and breathed deep.  He smelled like sweat, and jail, and fear...but underneath all of that was the distinctive smell of Colby Brock.  The smell Sam had come to associate with home, many years ago.

“They’ll never take you away from me again,” Sam whispered, and Colby chuckled.

“I’d like to see ‘em try,” He responded.

[pictureofsirgalahad]

Shooting Stars and Satellites

I finished it! Thank you to @apsychicmoosewithflannelforfur​ for beta reading, and for everyone who liked the snippet I posted yesterday.

Summary: Jody’s house is full of damn good food, and damn good people. There’s nowhere better to spend thanksgiving.

Read on Ao3

“Dean! Will you please sit still!” 

Sam ran a hand down his exhausted face as his son once again jumped off his chair to go bother the dog, ruining the shirt that Sam had just finished tucking in.

“Why?” Dean asked, pulling on Miracle’s ear. Miracle, to his credit, was being very calm about the whole situation. 

“Because we’re going over to Auntie Jody’s house for Thanksgiving, remember? It’s a special day, so you should wear special clothes.” 

“Why?” Dean asked again. Honestly, the kid had a point. Sam sighed, giving Dean one more once over, before deciding that the shirt was a lost cause and leaving it be. 

“Good question, why don’t you ask Auntie Jody when we get there. Now come here so I can do your hair.” Sam grabbed a comb and got one pull through Dean’s mess of hair before the three year old shrieked and ran from the room. 

“Dean!” Sam chased the boy into the hallway to find him caught in Eileen’s arms, struggling to get free.

“What happened?” she asked, exasperated.

‘Didn’t want me to brush his hair,’ Sam signed back. Eileen grinned.

“Sounds like somebody else I know,” she replied, giving Sam a knowing look. He rolled his eyes. Eileen let Dean go, silencing him with a look. Their son hung his head and allowed his father to quickly brush through his hair, which turned out to be pointless anyway. At this point they were already running late, so there was a mad dash to get the Winchester Surprise out of the oven and strap Dean into his car seat. 

When they arrived, Patience met them in the front yard. She gave Dean a big hug then ushered him towards the house. He ran ahead while she helped Sam and Eileen carry some of their dishes in. 

“Sorry we’re late, things were a little chaotic,” Sam apologized hurriedly. Patience turned toward them. 

“Don’t worry about it! We haven’t gotten up to much yet, though Gertie and the boys have been so excited for Dean to get here.”

Sam chuckled fondly, remembering how ecstatic Dean had been when he had told him Sammy and Cas were going to be there. Garth’s twins were six, three years older than Dean, but they all played together like they were the same age, ever since Dean learned how to walk. Someone had once made a joke that it was meant to be, Team Free Will 3.0, but people stopped saying stuff like that after Eileen threatened to break their wrists. Gertie liked to play with them too, but she’d recently hit that awkward age where she’s torn between wanting to sit at the adults table, wanting to prove she can be a good babysitter, and wanting to just run around with her brothers. Luckily that meant she tried to hang out with everyone at family dinners, which all the guests always appreciated. 

Upon walking through the door they were greeted by Gertie and the twins running through the foyer, Claire following closely behind to make sure they didn’t break anything. Jody noticed them enter and straightened up, closing the oven door. 

“Sam! Eileen! Happy Thanksgiving!” She made her way over to the pair and gave each of them a tight hug. She grabbed Sam by the jaw and looked him in the eyes. “How are you doin’ Sam?” 

He gave her a somewhat forced smile. The five year anniversary of Dean’s death had been just a few days ago, and it had been rough on all of them. Jody sighed and patted his face, then turned around to head back into the kitchen. “Everyone’s in the living room, they’re excited to see y’all. I’ll catch up in a few minutes, I’ve just gotta finish checking this damn turkey.” 

Sam translated this information to Eileen, who was looking at him expectantly. Their friends tried their best, but it was difficult to lipread so many people, sometimes people forgot they had to be looking directly at her to be understood. 

They entered the living room and were greeted by a lot of women. And Garth. Bess and Donna were watching the game with rapt attention, while Garth and Kaia sat off to the side, drinking beer and chatting quietly. Patience and Alex were helping in the kitchen, and Sam hoped to God that wherever Claire and the kids were, she was keeping them out of trouble rather than enabling it, but he sincerely doubted it. 

Sam cleared his throat and everyone’s eyes turned to them. Then the room erupted in a cacophony of greetings. Donna got up and gave the both of them a bear hug, squeezing the air out of their lungs. Everyone was talking to them at once, and Sam couldn’t even think about trying to help Eileen, because he couldn’t figure out who to focus on. He just tried to say hey to everyone, and Eileen did the same. They all exchanged how are you’s, good to see you’s, it’s been a while’s. It was nice, seeing all of them, but it wasn’t long before he found himself putting a hand on Eileen’s shoulder to get her attention.

‘I’m going to help Jody and the girls. You stay and visit,’ he signed, getting up. She smiled at him and squeezed his hand, then turned back to the story Donna was telling about the nice young hunter she’d met recently, who had asked her to dinner and a movie, but don’t be goofball Eileen, he wasn’t interested in her! Sam huffed a laugh at Donna’s obliviousness. 

“Need a hand?” he asked as he entered the kitchen. Jody looked over at him as she washed a potato, nodding over at the cutting board that was currently occupied by Patience. 

“Sure! How about you take over for Patience over there, she’s been helping me all day long.” She moved out of the way of the sink to let him wash his hands, then went back to the potatoes. Patience gave him a grateful smile as she handed over the knife she was using to chop carrots. They worked in silence for a few minutes, the only conversation coming from Alex telling Sam to get the hell out of the way of the cutlery drawer, which he did hastily, worried about what she would do once she got the knife she wanted from it. After a while though, the overwhelmed feeling that he had been trying to escape before died down, and he felt up for some small talk.

“So, how have things been over here?” he asked, scooping up the celery pieces and throwing them in a bowl.

“Well, it’s been a little bit lonely around here with Patience in school and Claire and Kaia out of the nest. I’m just happy to have them home for the holidays.” Jody replied, and Sam nodded, drying his hands on a dish towel. The house had been so busy for so long, but now most of the girls had moved on. “At least I still have Alex, but she’s not home as much, because she got a new job.”

“Jody!” Alex squeaked, embarrassed. 

“What?! That’s amazing!” Sam cheered. She had been having trouble finding work after finishing school, and had been waiting for a job to come up for a few months. “Where are you working?” 

“I got hired as a nurse practitioner here at Sioux Falls General,” she replied nonchalantly, and Sam’s jaw dropped. 

“Alex! That’s incredible! I’m so proud of you.” 

“Thanks,” she said quietly, blushing at the praise. They quickly finished up the last of the work that needed to be done in the kitchen, and everything was in the oven. All they needed to do was wait. The three of them started to make their way back into the living room, but before they crossed the threshold, Sam caught Jody by the elbow.

“You did a really good job with them,” he told her. They both watched as Alex sat down on the couch next to Patience, stealing one of the crackers she was holding. 

“I barely did anything,” Jody replied, leaning against the doorframe.

“You know that’s not true,” Sam scolded, “They’re good kids, but you’re the one that led them down the right path. You gave them the love and acceptance they needed most. You’re a hero Jody. And a good mom.” 

“Well then,” Jody whispered, taking a sip of her beer. They both ignored the shine of tears in her eyes. “Thank you for bringing them to me.” 

They stood in silence for a few more moments before Jody cleared her throat. 

“Speaking of good parents, where’s your son?” Sam laughed out loud.

 “Hell if I know.” 

“Well, find him, and get washed up. We’re goin’ to eat soon.”

They went their separate ways, and Sam eventually found Dean in the backyard, covered in mud and showing a worm to Cas. Claire was nearby, trying to get Sammy to stop pulling on her hair. She looked so worn out that he almost felt bad for her, but instead he just laughed at her predicament and helped peel Sammy off of her. He gave her a beer as a form of thanks, which she took gratefully. 

“Cas, Sammy, it’s time for dinner.” At the mention of food, the twins perked up and immediately started running back inside. Dean made no move to get up from his spot in the dirt, tearing out handfuls of grass. “Dean, c’mon bud. Let's go get washed up.” When Dean didn’t answer, Sam crouched down to his level. “What’s wrong dude? You not hungry?” Dean crawled into Sam’s lap, and quietly started playing with the buttons on his dad’s shirt.

“Daddy?” he asked in a small voice.

“Yeah Dean?”

“There’s only one me.” Sam looked down at his son, confused.

“What do you mean bud? Of course there’s only one of you.”

“I heard Cousin Claire say I’m just like other Dean.” Sam froze. “What does that mean? There’s only on me, right?” Sam swallowed the lump in his throat and rubbed Dean’s back. 

“Yeah, there’s only one you. Don’t worry, I’m not hiding another one somewhere.” Sam told the boy, knowing that was what he was worried about. Dean nodded, and uncurled himself from Sam’s lap, now confident in his own uniqueness. 

“Then who’s other Dean?” he asked, going back to shredding up clumps of grass. Jody was going to kill them. Sam took a shaky breath. 

“Have I ever told you the story of how you got your name?” Sam asked, knowing he hadn’t. Dean shook his head. “Well, before you were born, I had a big brother.”

“Like my big brother?”

“Kind of, but it was more like how Sammy and Cas are brothers. His name was Dean, just like you,” Dean looked up at Sam, his dark eyes full of curiosity. He looked more like Eileen than he would ever look like Sam. “But he died. Just like how Mr. Water the fish died, remember?” Dean frowned at the mention of his dead goldfish, but looked like he understood. “So we named you after him, because he was really awesome, and we knew you were gonna be really awesome too.”

“Oh.” Dean said, then looked contemplative for a moment. “Am I just like other Dean?” Sam sighed.

“In some ways. Like how cool you are, and how much you love Miracle. But you’re different in a lot of ways too. And that’s a good thing. Because that means you are your own person, and we love that person so, so much. Do you hear me?” Sam took Dean by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes to make sure he understood. 

When it was clear he did, Sam decided the serious moment was over. “Come on, let’s get washed up.” he announced, trying to grab Dean by the midsection.

“No!! I don’t want to!” Dean giggled, trying to escape his father’s grasp. 

“I guess if you won’t listen to me, you’ll have to listen to… the tickle monster!” Dean squealed with breathless laughter as Sam attacked him, and was quickly begging him to stop. Sam did, and got up, reaching out a hand for Dean to take. 

Together they went inside and washed their hands for dinner. As they entered the dining room, Sam passed Dean onto Eileen, who watched with amused attention as her son excitedly started signing about the bugs he found outside. Garth and Donna finished setting the table, and everyone sat down. Sam started reaching for a roll, but Jody slapped his hand away from across the table. 

“Sam Winchester, I swear!” She scolded, with no real heat behind the words.

“Sorry Jody!” She shook her head at him, then stood up to address the group. 

“Since this is Thanksgiving, I wanted to be stereotypical for a second and tell all of you just how grateful I am that we have each other, and that everyone could make it up this year. And of course, we should remember that those who couldn’t be here, are here in spirit, and we miss them every day,” Everyone bowed their heads. It was a hunter gathering, after all. They had to acknowledge the ones they lost. 

“We’re all so lucky to be with each other and eat this food together, this food that we slaved over, so you better damn well enjoy it! Dig in.” Everyone cheered as Jody finished her speech and sat back down. 

All of them started loading their plates with delicious smelling food, and the whole room was full of laughter. Sam got Dean some strips of turkey breast, some mashed potatoes, and roasted broccoli, which was the only part of the meal he ate. Eileen had to force him to eat two bites of turkey before he could have desert. There were three kinds of pie, and a dozen chocolate chip cookies that Jody had made specifically for Dean, because Dean didn’t like pie. He never had.  

The night started to die down after desert. Jody recruited Claire and Kaia to help with the dishes, as they hadn’t helped with cooking earlier. The Fitzgeralds headed out first, because the kids all had school tomorrow. The stragglers were all lounging in the living room, trying to recover from the meal. Sam had an arm around Eileen’s shoulder, Dean curled up in between them. Eileen exchanged hunting stories with Donna, but Sam could see her yawning, and he felt about the same. Dean looked like he was going to be out for good if they stayed any longer. He patted her on the back, and she looked at him. He removed his arm from her shoulder and straightened his posture. 

‘Ready to head home?’ he asked. She nodded, and they moved to get up. Sam scooped Dean into his arms, and they said their last goodbyes to Donna, Alex, and Patience. They made their way into the kitchen to let Jody and the girls know they were heading out. Kaia waved from her spot on the counter. Claire gave an enthusiastic goodbye to them, and gave Dean a high-five to send him off. 

They grabbed the dishes they had brought along, and their coats to protect against the November chill. Jody followed them out to the front porch. 

“Bye Jody! Thank you so much for dinner.” Eileen said, and Jody gave her a hug. 

“Have a nice night Eileen,” she said once they had broken the embrace. Eileen nodded, and turned to Sam.

‘I’ll wait in the car,’ she signed, and put a hand on his shoulder as a way to tell him to take as long as he needed. Sam nodded, and turned back to say one last goodbye to Jody. Dean was half-asleep in his arms, his head rolling around on Sam’s shoulder. 

The warm light and far-off clatter of dishes inside poured through the still-open door, fading softly into the quiet night air as calming background noise. 

“Thanks for havin’ us today Jody,” Sam said quietly, hoisting his son higher up in his arms.

“Of course Sam. You know you’re welcome anytime.” She gave Sam a tight one-armed hug and kissed Dean on the top of his head. “You take care of yourself, okay Sam?” Sam smiled.

“Always do,” he replied. Jody chuckled.

“Uh huh. Dean?” Dean lifted his head to look at Jody, his tiny hand letting go of Sam’s neck to rub at his bleary eyes, “Take care of your daddy for me, will you?” 

“Kay Auntie Jody,” Dean mumbled. Sam grip on him tightened minutely. He sounded like Dean.  

“Good boy.” Jody whispered, and ruffled his hair. Dean batted her hand away, grumbling. Jody laughed and switched to ruining Sam’s hair, and he made a very indignant noise, which made Dean giggle. They all took a deep breath, inhaling in the scent of the damp grass that surrounded them. “Good night Sam,” 

He nodded, and Jody gave them one last look before turning around and heading back into the house, closing the door behind her. They were left in a gentle silence.

“Did you have fun?” Sam asked as they made their way towards the car. Dean nodded against his chest, his thumb in his mouth. They were trying to break him out of that habit, worried about the long term effect on his jaw, but Sam decided to let him be tonight. They leaned against the car door for a moment. 

“Let’s say goodnight to your brother.” 

Dean looked up at the moon, then raised his hand to give a small wave.

“Night Jack,”

A breeze came through the trees, the stars seemed to shine a little brighter, and Sam felt every blade of grass reach out to them in recognition. He sighed.

Goodnight.

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Walk Me Home - Ch 10

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension. 

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 1856

Author’s Note: Had some extra time today, so I figured I’d go ahead and post. We’ve reached the end, folks. Thank you to everyone for reading, reblogging, liking, and especially all the lovely comments. A million thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ , @fangirlxwritesx67​ , and @cracksinthewalls​ for helping my story shine. @thoughtslikeaminefield​ , thank you for the lovely image for the story. I hope everyone enjoyed it all as much as I do. 

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY. 

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 10

“Sam looks really irritated,” Kimber whispers to Dean. The younger Winchester brother has just excused himself to the restroom, but the diner is pretty quiet, and she doesn’t want to risk Sam overhearing.

“Well, yeah,” Dean says, raising his coffee to take a deep, life-affirming slurp. He doesn’t bother to lower his tone or modulate his pitch in the slightest, and Kimber shoots him an exasperated look. “I stuck him with clean-up duty last night so I could get lucky. Not to mention, our room was the only free one at the motel, remember, so he either slept there or in his car. He’s not irritated, he’s pissed as hell and probably a little jealous.”

“But you didn’t get lucky last night,” Kimber says. 

“Went home with my high school sweetheart, got to see her unmentionables, and spent the whole night in bed with her after eating semi-homemade apple pie. I’d say I got pretty damned lucky.”

She sends an elbow his way, but he’s expecting it and leans back so she overshoots and lands across his lap. She splutters indignantly as she rights herself while he takes another calm drink of his coffee. 

“Seriously, though, he’s not pissed at you. The first few months after we left, the kid wouldn’t shut up about you. He practically worshipped you: hot, nerdy as hell, the whole package. And,” he adds, his teasing expression mellowing to one of genuine appreciation, “you really helped him out with that AP stuff. He got into Stanford because of you.”

“Shut up,” she says, her face heating. “He got into Stanford? That was him, and you know it. I just gave him some resources he didn’t know about, that’s all.”

“And I was able to keep up with all my AP classes no matter where we moved, which was a huge deal to me,” Sam says as he slides into the booth across from them. “You guys talking about me behind my back?”

 “Always,” Dean smirks. “So, what’d you find out?”

“Does the name ‘Jim Weeks’ mean anything to you, Kimber?” 

She frowns, setting her fork down on the edge of her plate. “It does. I helped him out, god, what...eight, nine years ago? He hadn’t been hunting very long, maybe a year or two, and he was investigating some...Let me think, hang on.” She closes her eyes, mentally shifting through years of research, both hers and others’.

“Human sacrifices. There was a symbol carved into all the victims. I helped him find the source, the deity it stood for. It was one of my closed cases; that’s why I didn’t bring it up. He called me a few weeks later, said he’d taken care of everything.”

“Well, he was wrong,” Sam says, his face grave. “I found his journal in the witch’s car. Jim documented you helping him, what you found, where you worked, and then how the case wrapped up. You actually helped him take down en entire coven of witches, guess he didn’t mention that part. Then he went on hunting for another seven and a half years, but a few months ago, he started to write about feeling like someone was watching him, tailing him from case to case.”

Sam pauses, giving her a moment to take in this new information, then he continues.

“Said he was starting to have periods of time where he didn’t remember stuff, would wake up in the middle of the road, in the middle of the woods. He wrote about finding a doll in his car one morning; it, uh..looked like him. Throat was slit, red paint, all of it.” 

Sam clears his throat, flexing his fingers on the table top as he watches her carefully. Dean’s hand closes over hers under the table, and she realizes her fingers are shaking.

“Go on,” she says. She doesn’t want to hear what’s coming next, she really already knows, but she needs to hear it.

“The entries in his journal stop after that. The cover was soaked in dried blood. So...yeah. I did some checking, and Jim died a few months back. The scene was...nasty.”

“So, who was our nutbag?” Dean asks. His tone is rough as he squeezes Kimber’s fingers. 

“I looked into the county records where Jim took down the coven. I don’t think he did too much research into the actual witches themselves; the coven included a family, a mom and dad and a teenager. Jim thought he got the whole coven, but maybe the teenager wasn’t at that meeting? At any rate, the papers from around then talked about the murdered couple’s missing child, and then the kid just dropped out of mention.”

“Okay, Jim was sloppy, and the kid survived, and what...swore revenge? How’d he find Jim again?”

“I found these folded up in the front of the journal,” Sam says, smoothing a couple of newspaper articles out on the table. The edges are frayed and ragged, torn rather than cut. There are dark smears on both, smudges and stains from who knows what, and Kimber’s gorge rises higher the longer she stares down at them.

The first article dates back to the first investigation, showing a grainy photograph of police and federal officers milling around behind crime scene tape. Kimber points to a figure off to the side, suited and facing the camera almost straight on.

“That’s Jim,” she says, her voice quiet. He looks painfully young in the photograph, and her chest twinges. The caption labels him as “FBI Special Agent Gaiman.” 

She looks at the second article, which is much more recent. She notices immediately that the location is the same, the premise almost identical. “Town’s Dark Past Resurfaces After Nearly a Decade” reads the headline. She looks for Jim’s face, spotting it in the crowd once more, despite him aging considerably in the years since she met him.

“He used the same name again,” Dean says, shaking his head. “I mean, he didn’t have much choice, since it was probably the same cops on the case, but still. Probably how the witch found him. Might’ve started up the sacrifices again just to draw Jim out. Anything else in the car, Sam?”

Sam shakes his head, his mouth working as if he’s got a bad taste in his mouth. “More or less standard witch paraphernalia, a couple more knives. I didn’t see anything indicating we have anyone else to watch out for.”

Dean purses his lips, then looks to Kimber. “You doin’ okay?”

Kimber takes the question seriously, doing a quick bit of mental introspection. “Yeah, I think...I mean...Okay, so I’m still queasy, but I don’t feel like someone’s breathing down my neck anymore. I’m going to be jumpy for a while, and I am definitely not going to stop going to my Thursday night classes anytime soon. But, yeah. If I’m not completely okay at the moment, I know I’m going to be.”

“That’s my girl.” Dean leans over, pressing a kiss to Kimber’s cheek. Sam looks away, but not before Kimber catches the embarrassed smile on his face. Dean slides from the booth, strolling casually over to the register and grinning at the elderly waitress, who blushes and giggles as she takes the check from him.

“Dad wouldn’t let him call you,” Sam says quietly. Kimber’s eyes flash to Sam, startled.

“When we left. Dean wanted to. He tried to, but Dad said he couldn’t. Said you were a distraction we couldn’t afford. He absolutely forbade it. They got in a fight, the worst one I ever saw between them when we were kids, and Dad...he...well, he, uh...He put his foot down. And later, after Dad died...I think Dean was ashamed. Maybe. I dunno, but I think he didn’t feel like he could call you after all that time, felt like he’d let you down.”

Sam glances over his shoulder, and they both watch Dean lean down to whisper conspiratorially with the blushing waitress as he hands her his credit card. Dean turns back to Kimber, winking, and her last little bit of heartache flakes off and fades away.

“Maybe don’t hold it against him too much?” Sam says, his best puppy-dog face in place. Kimber has never seen such an earnest expression from a guy asking on behalf of another man before.

“So, what do we have on the docket, Sam?” Dean asks as he rejoins them. Kimber throws her arms around his neck, ignoring the twinge twinge of pain on the side of her throat, and kisses him soundly. He looks startled but pleased as she pulls away, eyes wide and cheeks ruddy. 

“What was that for? I’m just askin’ so I can do it again.”

She clears her throat against an unexpected lump. Behind Sam, the waitress at the register gives her a double thumbs up. “I was just jealous of the attention you were giving the wait staff. Figured you thought I wasn’t paying you enough attention.”

Sam coughs discreetly, his mouth twitching from the effort of smothering his smile. “I actually don’t have any cases for us. I was thinking about going back to the bunker and reorganizing some of those files I‘ve been going through. You know, I could really use your help, Dean. Our inventories could use some alphabetizing, and-”

“Hard pass,” Dean says, flashing his brother a quick, mirthless smile. 

“If you’re looking for something to do,” Kimber offers, then hesitates when Dean turns his focus to her. “Well, I mean...fall break is next week. There’s a harvest festival in town; we have a crafts fair and a big farmers market and a lot of baking competitions. It’s pretty fun. If...if you wanted to stay a little while, Dean.”

...

In the end, Dean stays nearly two weeks. They go to every single day of the festival, during which time, they pick out a new quilt for her bed and Dean makes himself actually sick at the pie tasting event. When he does finally leave, it’s with a promise to visit soon, and their phone numbers saved in each of their cells.

“I will say, I’m not overly fond of watching this car drive off,” Kimber says, hugging herself through the inadequate material of her sweater. The weather has turned genuinely cold, and she wishes she’d grabbed something heavier, but she hadn’t planned on staying outside for so long. 

For some reason, though, she just can’t let go of him long enough for him to get into the car.

Dean rubs his hands briskly up and down her arms, his eyes sad and fond as they roam over her face. Before she can stop him, he pulls off his jacket, draping it over her shoulders and kissing her forehead.

“You look damned cute in my jacket,” he says gruffly. “One more for the road?”

And if her lips are still swollen and throbbing when he puts the car into gear and pulls away from the curb, if his hair looks like he came straight from bed, neither of them minds in the least.

…

The end.

[anika-ann]

Nothing but the Truth - Pt.8

The Resolution

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader        Word count: 4070

Summary: A fake dating AU.  You’ve been moping for two days now; despite some surprising visitors in your hospital room, there was one person who haven’t made it yet. It’s just your dumb luck it was the one person that mattered very much.

Warnings: swearing, light angst, brief mentions of violence, fluff, extra dialogue-heavy chapter

Story Masterlist

The first thing your foggy brain registered as you woke up was that you must have a flu. There was no other explanation for how you felt.

Every single muscle, every single joint in your body, simply everything hurt and was so, so heavy… confusing images flickered through your mind, images of a dark room and the burning blue of irises, the pain and the poor attempt at a smile, the ring and leather straps, the maniacal grin on the vendor’s face—it was all adding to the splitting headache that was keeping you from opening your eyes; because no, no sharp light, thank you very much-

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” a velvety voice caressed your ears, gentle fingers lightly squeezing your hand. “You had us worried.”

Mind still fuzzy, you groaned, attempting to squeeze the warm hand back, but with zero result.

God, why is it so, so hard to move--

“I’ll call a doctor, yeah?”

Grunting something incomprehensible in disagreement, because fuck it, I just want to sleep, you drifted back into blissful ignorance, not having a care for the world.

When you woke up again, it was to Sam’s concerned gaze and you did not like that expression on his face one bit.

To your utter shock, he was soon replaced by Tony Stark; though Sam still stayed in your corner while the billionaire gushed about how you had led them right to the bad guy.

“He was crazy, alright. His brain was a like bag of cats and that coming from me? Real deal. Anyway… we couldn’t save anyone else. He was… eh, systematic. Putting trackers into the rings, stalking the couples and then he moved onto his mission of testing the true love bullshit and everyone failed, so he had the shocks to-“

Sam cleared his throat meaningfully as you winced, the ghost of the very unpleasant sensation running through your nerve endings, biting chill curling at the base of your spine, flashes of Steve’s face, the mask, the vendor, the chairs and the electricity crackling-

“Sorry. Just wanted to say… you did really great. You saved a lot of lives by helping us to lock him away. You basically entered the hero kindergarten,” Stark announced almost brightly, earning another ahem from your friend.

You smiled at the genius tiredly. “I’m not planning on joining your superhero group, Mr-“ you faltered when he made a face, “-Tony. And… I’d feel better if we could have—if the people who were taken-“

“Hey. Not your fault,” Sam interrupted you swiftly, voice as serious as his face. “You did amazing and I hope you’re never getting into this kind of shit ever again.”

Now he looked like a father torn between being proud of his kid punching a bully to their face and being exasperated because the said kid had earned an exclusion from school for it. To be fair, he possibly felt exactly like that.

“Yeaaaah, I guess that’s my cue,” Tony backed out with an awkward grin, stopping in the doorway to toss few more words over his shoulder. “Oh, I’m sorry for the delay. The deactivated trackers took us a while. Get better, hon!”

You couldn’t but grin at his demeanor, but your mood instantly shifted back to grim when you saw the look on Sam’s face. The air of an overexcited genius which Stark was carrying around was sucked out of the room, suddenly making it hard for you to breathe as the horror images filled your mind once more.

You shook your head and gulped, trying to push them back to the corner, focusing on something else entirely; namely on the black eye which Tony was nursing, one of which had a good idea how happened.

“You gave him the black eye, didn’t you?”

Sam’s furrowed brows rose at the probably unexpected remark, but he didn’t bother lying. “Damn right, I did.”

Who would have guessed that two days, only 48 hours, could last an eternity?

You would.

You knew; you had your fair share of experiencing that. Still, every hour crushed your chest as Tony Stark visited once more, Sam was at your bedside at nearly all times, Irma came to see you, hell, even Natasha freaking Romanoff stopped by and yet, yet, no Steve in sight.

Sam had told you he was busy; you could imagine. He must have probably been filling out mission reports, recovering himself, had to answer to authorities, to reporters-- and your eyes filled with stupid and pathetic tears when you thought of the reporters every single time.

Recalling your own encounter with the sensation-hungry sharks, the intrusive memory of the interview wormed its way to your brain and more importantly, to your heart; a memory of the time when everything had seemed alright, better even, almost as if there could be something more —and then Steve had said yes--- and then-

Then all you had was a hazy memory of his voice at your ear when you had been pulled out of unconsciousness, a wistful dream, a fata-morgana which you made up to console your mind when your body couldn’t quite comprehend the exhaustion and pain tearing you from your sleep only to slip back again.

He hadn’t come.

For two full days, he wouldn’t as much as shoot you a text, send flowers or something awfully sweet and Steve-like and you were starting to question just how much of what had happened down there you only imagined.

You were almost certain he had said he loved you, you would swear on it even; but if it truly happened and Steve was still not showing up, well… then it opened a whole new number of possibilities of what his motivation could be.

You refused to believe he didn’t care at all. However, you had met Steve a while ago and if you understood something about him, it was that his sense of duty was just a tiny bit inferior to his sense of loyalty. In other words, he would look out for his friends, as much as they would look out for him – more even.

So, even when Steve was supposedly busy – unless he was out of the country, naturally – he would let himself to be dragged out of the gym, out of his office, dragged away from anything that seemed urgent, yet not urgent enough for him to refuse Sam or anyone else who was concerned and insistent enough.

Hence you coming to the conclusion that he simply didn’t want to spent a single second in your presence, because he had in fact figured out that you had been about to confess your feelings to him and now he was doing everything to avoid you, because he had somehow tricked the machine when saying that stupid ‘yes’ and he had no clue how to turn you down gently now-- because Steve was nothing short of gentle.

Yep, that was your elaborate theory.

Say yay for your super-inventive brain, you thought darkly. And try not to choke at the thought of Steve ghosting you for the rest of your life.

Burying your face in the pillow and letting it soak up with your tears, you lulled yourself to sleep, grateful there was no one in your room at the moment to witness your break-down.

You were woken up from your slumber by three swift knocks on your door. It snapped you to full consciousness at instant, mostly because there weren’t many people who bothered to knock; it was quite common for them – and that included the doctors – to simply enter.

That difference in approach was essential, because your mind traitorously drifted towards the idea of Steve finally paying you a visit and it was both exciting and mortifying.

Also, it gave you hope of which you were certain would be crashed the moment the door open, so there was that.

The knocks echoed in the room once more, this time softer, as if the person behind the door worried about intruding your sleep.

Huh. Cute and considerate. How could you not get your hopes up at that?

“Uhm… come in,” you encouraged the mystery person cautiously, your heart nearly giving out when a blond head hesitantly poked in.

Yep, it’s Steve.

Or maybe I’m just high and I’m imagining him.

Hard to tell.

He offered you the weakest of smiles as if he could hear your thoughts and whispered a very shy ‘hi’.

You felt your heartbeat pounding in your temples in panic and excitement.

“Steve… uhm. H-hey. What-eh- what are you doing here?”

You would have been ashamed for stuttering like an idiot, except you were too busy freaking out over looking like a hobo, having red-rimmed eyes and chest filled with dread at this encounter, feelings spoken and unspoken sitting heavily in your ribcage—and well, generally just losing your mind.

Also, Steve was unable to speak like a normal person as well, so that helped. “I-uhm… came to check up on you.”

He stepped fully into the doorway and you expected him to come all the way in. Instead, he wavered there, not quite entering and it only caused your chest to tighten. You swallowed against the lump in your throat, trying your best to seem collected and not like desperately looking for a clue, anything to give away a single of his thoughts.

Was he hesitating because he wasn’t sure if he was welcomed after ghosting you or was it because he wanted to have an escape route open? He was a strategist, after all; it would be wise to have a chance at escaping the moment he sensed the situation going off rails.

A somewhat torn expression crossed over his face, followed by an expectant one, and you realized he must have been waiting for you to lead.

Again.

Ever the gentleman.

You would have appreciated it and possibly melt into a puddle of sappy goo, because Steve was a sweetheart always… except you hadn’t a clue what you wanted and where you wanted this to lead—well, you did know, but you doubted that would happen.

Your heart ached, a reminder of his confession possibly not being sincere and you being left on your own in your pining.

Shaking your head to free yourself from the cage of your own mind, you attempted a small smile, one that probably came off as super-awkward.

But he needed to cut you some slack, alright.

“Oh. I’m fine,” you finally said, answering the question not quite asked. “I mean… my head spins a little-“ And you’re not helping. “-but mostly I’m here because Tony Stark is being an overbearing ass. I don’t think he would admit that, but he probably feels guilty.”

It was another conclusion your brilliant mind had come to. You know, apart from the fact Steve was ghosting you because he was waking up in cold sweat dreaming about you being interested in him and all that.

But why were you telling him about Tony? Were you really that desperate to see him for a bit longer that you babbled? So desperately trying to postpone the inevitable conversation for later, because once it happened… God only knew what the outcome would be?

Your ears might have been playing tricks on you, but you would swear you heard him murmur ‘I know how that feels’ under his breath.

Hm.

“Good,” he stated, nodding his head as if he needed to assure himself that it was indeed good. “Uhm… it’s good that you’re almost fine.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

He was still standing in the doorway and your eyes started burning with unshed tears.

Small talk. Awkwardness. Things unsaid, hanging in the air, heavy and suffocating.

Was this how it was going to be between the two of you now?

And what else did you expect it would be like after you pretended to be a couple? After you kissed? And got tortured together, just in the case you forgot about that?

“What about you?” you forced yourself to ask, willing your voice not to crack. “How you’ve been?”

“Huh? Oh, uhm. Good. Yeah, good. Busy.”

“Right. I-- uhm… I bet-“

“No, actually… that’s a lie.”

You blinked, utterly taken aback at the blatant admission. It was so unlike Steve to be this cruelly honest that you barely registered that his words felt like a punch to your face.

Not that you had ever been punched to your face. Only nearly electrocuted. Which you guessed wasn’t any better.

“Oh.”

Steve shook his head, chuckling bitterly, still not moving from the fucking doorway and you wished you were in his place, so you could just flee.

“I spent half of the time staring at a wall in my office.”

“Oh… uhm.” And like an idiot, because you were one and you had no clue how to react besides bursting into tears, because he hadn’t come to see you and had been staring at a wall instead, you said: “I mean… I guess Stark Tower has some pretty interesting walls.”

This time when he chuckled, the sound was just as breathless, but lighter. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and gestured towards the chair by your bed.

“May I?”

No. Nope. You let him in here and the more you look at him and do small talk, the more you’ll want to cry. Tell him no-

“Sure.”

Idiot.

Closing the door and finding his seat, he spoke again.

“Thank you. I… I should have visited. But… I spent hours and hours wondering how to apologize, and I know that it isn’t the best excuse, but I- you--“

You tried to blink away your tears, grateful for Steve staring at the bedsheets and not watching your face when talking. That would be pretty humiliating if he saw your awe-struck, humiliated and entirely confused face; this already was enough.

Apologize? For what? For lying and getting away with it? For telling the truth and then ignoring you? For pretending to care? For caring and suddenly not caring enough? Or for what?

What, what, what-  

“-what happened in that basement-“ he continued and the tone he spoke with was already too much to bear— you knew at instant that you didn’t want the answers to your questions.

Not if it meant that you‘d have your heart broken, a wedge driven into the already wide enough raw crack in it.

“Steve-“

“I got you hurt. And I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely, leaning his elbows onto his thighs, fingers interlacing as his hands hang loosely between his knees. Wait, what? “I am so, so sorry. That never should have happened-“

Your heart skipped a pleased and relieved beat.

You shouldn’t be getting your hopes up just yet – this wasn’t about what you thought it was, he wasn’t telling you he hadn’t been lying down there, but this possibility hadn’t even crossed your mind. It should have, it made perfect sense that he was feeling guilty, because he was the captain of the team, responsible for them—

You were so wrapped up in your own head, clinging to the fact he admitted he loved you (or not, who the fuck knew), that you hadn’t even considered this.

The revelation explained so much and sounded much more like him than you could imagine and your mind started racing with new possibilities. Maybe… maybe he didn’t—or did he- this was far from him denying that he never wanted to talk to you again and had literally nothing to do with your little truth-or-lie issue, yet you felt an enormous weight fell from your shoulders, a blanket of lead that had been lying on your chest for a while now lift.

You wiggled up so you could sit straighter in the bed.

“Steve, that guy was insane. He drugged you with god knows what, he had you-- wired to something-“

“We shouldn’t have been there in the first place.“

Oh. Oh.

You gulped, your head pounding all over again, ribcage constricting.

Yeah. You supposed that was true. It didn’t mean that it hurt less; no, hearing him to say it out loud hurt more, actually, however, you tried your best to focus on the problem at hand, which was giving Steve whatever forgiveness he craved, no matter it wasn’t his fault in the first place.

“Well. I was the first to agree, if I remember correctly and you were radically against. So if anything, I kinda got us into that mess, so-…”

His cerulean eyes bored into yours, sorrow, self-torment and stubbornness incarnated, as he interrupted you.

“Maybe, but I agreed then and I promised to protect you. You trusted me and I failed you,” he accented, anger lacing his voice. He sighed then when he took a note of that and slowly breathed in and out, sounding much softer when he spoke again. “I’m sorry.”

It was as if you hadn’t said a word in the past minute.

“Steve, you’re… you’re just human. Serum or not, you’re- hell, even superman had his kryptonite and he’s fictional. You’re just— what--what he did to me--- after which I’ll be alright, by the way – that happening doesn’t make you any less of a hero,” you explained sincerely, minutely forgetting your weeping uncertain heart. “I know that you did everything you could. You don’t need to apologize for that.”

The implication that there was something else he should apologize for hang heavy in the air.

“I… about what I said down there-“

“Steve, don’t. You don’t need to explain anything. Whatever happened, however you managed to do that-“

“You think I lied,” he stated dully and you avoided his gaze at that.

You didn’t respond.

If you were being honest, you weren’t sure what to think anymore. Everything was just so damn confusing; his yes, his apology, his sorrow, him avoiding you… it was making you dizzy and it all the wondering had you honestly exhausted.

“I’m a coward.”

That got you snap your head back to him, hundreds of question marks in your eyes. “What?”

A humorless chuckle was the answer.

“I didn’t lie. I mean, I did lie down there once, and the machine caught that. And I got you hurt-“

You wanted to protest, because you’d been over this, but his previous words rang in your ears, confusing and disgustingly hopeful.

He hesitantly reached for your hand, gingerly taking it between both of his own, thumbs tenderly caressing its back. You swallowed the choked noise threatening to escape your throat at the soft touch; deliberate, yet seemingly not uncomfortable to him.

“I was forced to admit how I felt right after I got you hurt and I had no single clue what to do with that. Still don’t. I-I spend hours just sitting here and staring, trying to figure out-“

You successfully – ha, you wished – tuned out the first part, focusing on the latter one, not any less surprising.

“You’ve been here?”

He seemed distracted by that question. “Yeah, uhm-“

“Were… were you here when I woke up?” you asked, another foggy memory flickering in front of your eyes, a memory of him in the chair, the concerned frown on his face, dark circles under his dry eyes, raspy voice-

“You… you remember that? You weren’t even conscious for a full minute. You were out again before the doctor arrived, both times.”

‘Both times.’ He had witnessed you conscious twice.

Just how long had he spent here by your sleeping form?

“I thought-“ I though that I dreamed that up. Apparently, you hadn’t. He… he had been there with you. Oh. “I—so you- oh.”

He waited patiently before all of his words registered in your brain; including the ones about-

“You… weren’t lying?” you asked breathlessly, astonished and warmed from inside out for the second time in the past few days as the realization took roots in your brain, finding the remnants of your previous belief and euphoria.

“No. Not when I- when I said-”

“-yes,” you finished for him, your lips parting in amazement, your heart fluttering in joy.

There was no need to specify which question you were talking about – it was clear as day; about the only one that truly mattered.

“And I’m an idiot. I hurt you again, letting you think that I didn’t care at all and I should have come here, but I had no idea what to do next and if you-- what did you think about it- and I got you hurt-“

“We’ve been over this. Not your fault,” you chastised his distractedly, staring at his face because he was breathtaking and he… he-

His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously and you couldn’t but give him the reassurance he was no doubt seeking; you knew you would in his place.

“I… I was about to say yes. And it wouldn’t have been a lie either,” you offered quietly, a slow smile spreading on your lips.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He gave you a watery smile, tears still crinkling in the corners of his eyes as he carefully raised your hand, watching every micro-expression on your face, searching for the tinniest trace of disapproval; finding none, his lips brushed your knuckles with the gentlest kiss.

You melted into the pillow, feeling warm all over, your smile turning goofy as you finally, finally got your answer and wanted to scream it at the top of your lungs, because it was delightful.

Steve loved you.

Steve loves me.

And you loved him.

There was a mess for you to deal with for sure, a lot of explaining ahead, but… what else than the fact that you loved each other was important here?

Nothing. Not really, not at the moment at least.

Something told you this might be the true start of a beautiful relationship.

The non-faked kind.

--and you hunch turned out to be true.

The next day, the very hour of your discharge from the med-wing, Steve was waiting for you; all ready with a car to drive you home, a bouquet of cream-colored tulips in his hand to make your day downright wonderful and for some reason, also with daggers in his glare whenever he sized up the nice doctor who had been keeping you company until Steve arrived.

It earned Steve a kiss on his cheek as he led you to the car with his palm lightly resting on your lower back and if your lips brushed his before you got in, well, no one needed to know.

“Mr. Wilson, you wished me to tell you when the confessions would be made. They were just now.”

Sam glanced up from the screen and stopped scrolling mindlessly through his phone, letting out a long exhale.

Judging by the not-so-ominous tone of the AI – nope, he would never get over the fact that an artificial intelligence could speak in different ways and be sassy on top of everything – the talk didn’t end up tragically. At least Sam hoped; he didn’t think there had been much space for messing it up worse, to be honest.

“Thanks, Friday. It was about damn time. How did it go?”

A record of the infamous interview, showing his two friends making out on live TV lighted up his phone—fucking rude to hack his phone like this, especially showing him that.

“About like this, Mr. Wilson,” Friday explained nonchalantly as if that fucking thing wasn’t in control of his phone.

Sam breathed through the shock caused by the intrusive AI, focusing on the good news before planning on giving Stark another black eye because what the hell, SOME privacy left would be nice and very much appreciated-

“Didn’t exactly need the visual,” he muttered, adding a louder ’but thanks.’

His screen returned to normal and he found himself too tired to get up and find Stark right now; he could always throw it to his face later.

Speaking of planning on throwing words and things at someone’s faces…

Sam realized he had to stand up anyway, because he had a different job to do, now that the two idiot friends of his finally made it past the mutual pining phase and actually got together.

Shoving his phone to the pocket of his jeans, he went to polish his guns; just in case that the big blond dumbass planned on making Sam’s favorite almost-sister cry again.

Note: White Tulips – representing purity, innocence, forgiveness and respect, they would be a great flower for a wedding or to give with an apology. (Cream-colored tulips are closely related and have also a meaning of commitment.)

Tags:

@mermaidxatxheart​ @bobertswagert​ @kakakatey​ @ccolz88-blog​ @joeyrumlow​ @lovemeterwrites​ @jessyballet​ @bellaireland1981​

Thank you for reading and leaving likes! You’ve all been amazing :-* Special thanks for commenting and/or spreading my work, it is greatly appreciated ❤️

If you enjoyed, check out my other works and if you by any change wanted to be added to my S.R. fanfic taglist, let me know and I happily will :-*  

[psyleedee]

Sweet, Spice and Everything Not Nice.

(Inspired by the iconic™ hot chilli Jen/Danneel/Misha moment but Destiel).

dean/castiel, secret relationship, accidental coming out, crack, humor, implied blowjobs, poor sammy.

-2k words.

-psyleedee.

There's a new diner opened up just a mile away from the Bunker, and already, Dean has heard so much about it. Last Tuesday, when he went for a milk run and stumbled into Ms. Davey, she was strangely keen about the new chilli poppers the diner was serving. Dean had smiled and brushed her off with a sure, I'll try it out, and he'd gone his way. Come Thursday, he'd stumbled into Chris, the local pawn shop owner, and they'd fallen into easy conversation, before Chris had spoken up about the diner. Said they had the best damn chilli poppers he'd ever seen. Dean didn't need anymore convincing.

Turns out Sam did.

And after weeks of goading Sam and riling him up to the point where he slammed a fist on the table and said Jesus Christ, Dean, you say the word chilli poppers again and I'll shove one right up your ass, Dean had succeeded. So what if it meant his dignity had crumbled to ash? At least he'd get to eat some good, greasy food, the one he's been craving for so long.

Besides, he oughta' take Cas out on a date too.

Ever since they ended up drunk in bed one long, fateful night ago, things have been slightly different between the two of them. For starters, they smile at each other a lot. Even when they're not looking at each other in tandem. They always end up on the same side of the couch or the dining table, thighs pressed together, hands brushing. They argue a lot, over the most mundane things, like washing the dishes or doing the laundry, but sometimes, after a hunt, when Dean is gushing blood, there will be this one broken glint in Castiel's eyes when he tries to heal him. And that night, they'll make slow, gentle love in Dean's car, away from the rest of the world.

However, there's a slight catch.

Sam doesn't know. He knows nothing. At least Dean hopes so.

And hey, not like they're trying to hide stuff from Sam, 'cause come on, they're practically breathing up each other's neck with only the three of them in the bunker, but it's just that Dean has a specific plan in his mind.

A plan about coming out to his brother. And it'll be heartfelt, of course, 'cause this is not just him establishing his relationship with Castiel, but also him coming out as bisexual. Sure, forty's a little late to figure out your sexuality, but better late than never, yeah?

So that's how it goes.

Maybe they can have a nice, brotherly chat over beer and chilli poppers.

"So, here we are. At last," Castiel says, as they stand against the Impala, all three of them, studying the creaky wooden sign which reads: Donny's Diner– home to the famous Habanero Chilli Poppers.

Okay. They're at the right place then.

"Habanero? Is that like, hotter than jalapeños or somethin'?"

Dean asks, as he stuffs his hands into the pocket of his jacket, and glances at his brother.

"I don't know," Sam says, so Dean turns to Cas, who almost passes as a rugged, buff lumberjack with the way Dean's flannel and AC/DC shirt hug his chest. He has his arms folded across him, a thoughtful gleam in his eyes as he studies the diner.

"I was too busy leading armies in Heaven to really pay attention to the chillies on earth."

"God," Dean sighs, exasperated, "-just say no."

Castiel's lips twitch in the slightest of amusement, and Dean hates the smug look spread across Castiel's face.

Okay, fine, he loves it.

Whatever.

"Let's go eat some fucking chilli poppers," Sam sighs, and Dean, ever ready, follows behind him. Castiel joins them, and all three men enter the diner, which in truth, is a normal, rustic style place. The tables are wooden, the chairs quite simple, a single order station at the front, and a few women, dressed in black shirts and jeans, running around with trays in their hands. It seems casual and laid-back, just the way Dean likes a diner to be, and at once, he quirks his bottom lip, already impressed by the minimal decor and the light chatter in the diner.

"Hi!"

Both Cas and Dean jump a little at the loud, enthusiastic, squeaky voice from in front of them, and standing before them is a young, short woman, with a pixie cut and cute, black-rimmed glasses on her nose. She reminds Dean of a high schooler. Maybe she is.

"Erm, hey."

"I'm Dana, and I'll be your server today. Follow me please, I'll grab you guys a seat."

Dean smiles at her, and the trio follows her along to a booth at the corner of the room. Sam slides in one side, while Castiel and Dean slip in across him. Dana allows them to settle for a moment before piping up again. Seriously this girl has got some real hard enthusiasm for a waitress.

"So, do you guys have anything in mind already? Since a lot of people come in here for the poppers, but if you want, I can get you the menu."

Dean shares a look with Sam. Dean shares a look with Cas.

We'll have the poppers. Oh, and uh, Dana, are the poppers uh, spicy? Like, reeealll spicy? Or spicy spicy?"

Dana chuckles, and shrugs.

"On a scale of one to ten, I'd say a solid eight. But you don't need to try them if you don't want to. We have normal jalapeño poppers. Those aren't as spicy."

"We'll have the really spicy ones, since Dean has been so insistent about them," Castiel says, and the waitress nods. He turns to Dean with a challenging spark in his eyes, "-or are you scared, Dean? I mean, you haven't been known to be quite tolerant towards chillies."

"Shaddup," Dean grumbles, and watches as Sam sends him a silly look, before turning to the waitress.

"The habanero poppers, please."

Sam smiles, and the waitress walks away with a brief nod.

Dean turns back to Sam, who fixes him a dry glare, before turning to Cas.

"Alright, I'm gonna' go use the restroom for a minute," He says, and glances at Dean, after which he proceeds to slide out of the booth and walk away.

Alone at last.

Dean shifts his weight onto a single thigh and turns in his seat to face Castiel. Castiel looks at him with a soft, tender expression, before reaching out to twine their fingers together.

"Are you happy, Dean?"

"'Course I am, Cas. Are you?"

"With you I always am."

"Sap."

"I prefer the term honest."

A smile spreads across both of their faces, before Dean leans in, and presses his lips to Castiel's, who melts at once, giving in to Dean, hands grazing Dean's jaw as they kiss, tender, longing, passionate, hot... Okay too hot, abort, abort.

Dean clears his throat and backs away, glancing around the diner to find a few curious pair of eyes on them, and he sends each one a glare, linking his arm around Castiel's back to show them what's theirs. Castiel shakes bis head with a hopeless smile, and steals a peck off Dean's lips, just in time, since Sam returns not a moment later.

Dean jerks his hand away. Castiel seems a bit hurt.

"So, what'd I miss?"

"Nothing," Castiel scoffs, and looks away, setting his chin on his fists on the table.

Sam looks between Dean and Castiel, and as much as Dean hates the way Sam is suspicious, he doesn't say much.

Patience, Sammy, patience. Dean's going to come out soon. He promises. Or something.

Dana returns just in time to soothe the rising tension at the table, and at once, the prominent scent of spices, oil, and chilli wafts around them, tickling Dean's nostrils in the best of ways, and he follows his nose to find a steaming, hot plate of sizzling habanero poppers held in Dana's hand. There's almost eight to nine poppers on the plate, and each one looks downright delectable.

"Alright, I would advise you to grab yourself some water, because these can be very spicy, and we don't want another paramedic in this diner."

"You have a paramedic in this diner?"

Dean asks, incredulous as he stares at the plate of poppers.

Dana laughs. "Uh-huh, over there, that's Kenny, he's the medic."

"Woah."

Castiel sighs, and watches as the waitress sets the tray down before them.

"Anything else I can get you? Besides a huge jug of water?"

Dana smirks, and all three men gulp at once, eyes fixed to the plate of poppers.

Man up, Winchester.

"Nothing, honey."

Dean smiles, and Dana returns it before walking away.

Now.

The poppers.

Before Dean can even speak, both Sam and Castiel are swiping their hands at one, holding it up and staring down at it.

"Guys, I don't think that's it's a good idea to–"

Gone. The poppers are gone. The ones in Sam's and Castiel's hand? Gone. In their mouths.

Dean stares, wide eyed, awestruck, torn between looking at Sam and Castiel, but then–

"Oh my god," Castiel gasps, mouth stuffed full, chewing on the popper, and Dean watches as his fists clench on the table.

Yup. Dean is not touching those poppers with a ten-foot pole.

"Jesus," Sam mutters, and holy shit, the guy's actually red, and fuck, so is Cas, they're literally burning red at the cheeks and the nose, and Sam's drooling, wiping his nose, there's tears at his eyes, Castiel is swatting the table, groaning, tears streaming down his face as he chews on the popper–

This is a fuckfest.

"Dude, what's happening?"

Dean yelps, shrinking away from his brother and boyfriend, as they pant, gasp and cry.

"Hot, hot, hot– too hot," Sam cries out, and Dean almost feels bad for the bugger. Serves them for being impatient.

"Dean, oh my god, argh, hot, hot, this is the hottest thing I've ever put in my mouth?!"

Castiel screams out, banging his fist on the table, and yes, Dean knows the time isn't right, but obviously Castiel has had hotter things in his mouth before, and those things are sitting right next to him, so how dare he.

"Excuse me?" Dean scoffs, to which Castiel sends him a dry, enraged glare.

"Food, Dean! Food."

Castiel squawks, and slaps the table, but a loud, deafening yelp catches both of their attention.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!"

Sam bellows, and oh. Oops.

"I don't wanna' listen to you talk about your sex life when I'm literally dying?! Dean, what the fuck are you sitting for, ask for some water?!"

Wow. This Sam is... Not nice.

Dean falters, trapped between two impatient, burning, overreacting men, and he rises up from his seat, watching as Dana scurries towards them with a water jug, but she doesn't even have a moment to react before Castiel is snatching it out of her hands and oh, oh god.

Castiel holds the jug above his face, and Dean jumps away from the table as the water gushes out, pouring into his mouth, over his shirt, everywhere, and before Castiel can even quench his thirst, Sam is grabbing the jug, pouring it over his face just like Castiel, the water drizzling every where, and a horrified, stricken Dean simply glances up at Dana, who seems... Strangely calm.

"Oh, it's more common than you think. I'm used to it," She says, and Dean wonders vaguely, if they're paying her enough for this, before providing help in the most menial form ever, by tossing his handkerchief to Castiel.

"You, Dean, are not getting away with this. You're the reason we almost died?!"

He growls, and yanks Dean onto the chair.

"Dude, I didn't ask you to pop it into your mouth literally a second after it came out."

Dean yells, shrugging away in defense, when a loud gasp draws their attention to Sam.

"You guys are fucking each other?"

Oh. Uhm. Cat's out.

"Yes, we're fucking each other, Sam, now could you pass that jug over here?"

Dean stares at the two of them, completely normal, going about passing the between the two of them.

That was... Not how he planned on coming out. Nope.

"Yeah, uh, Sam, Cas and I are dating. And uhm, I'm bi."

Sam shrugs, and holds the jug above his face, when it seems to click him.

"Wait. Was I not supposed to know that?"

Dean rolls his eyes.

"No, you weren't. How'd you know?"

Sam laughs.

"I don't know, maybe the oh my god, faster Dean, or the oh, you feel so good, coming from your room each night might have something do with it."

Dean blushes. Hard. Too hard. Castiel doesn't seem the slightest bit bothered. I mean, well, save for the water he's practically guzzling down.

"Whatever."

Dean grunts, and slides back in next to Castiel, who pushes the jug away, and slumps back against the booth.

Silence follows both Sam and Castiel's heavy pants.

Only for Castiel to grin again.

"That was awesome, I'm trying another."

[darkstar6782]

2.15: Tall Tales - My Rewatch Review

If there is one best part about this amazing episode, it has to be the point-of-view scenes between Sam and Dean when they are telling Bobby about their investigation. While I don’t think that this is how Sam and Dean see one another all the time, having them exaggerate one another’s personality traits into the point of obnoxiousness is a great and hilarious way to illustrate the ways in which even the people that we love can occasionally get on our nerves. This is not an uncommon trope in TV storytelling—most notably, for me, is an episode of the X-Files which I remember nothing else about except for the fact that it used this particular storytelling device—but to use it here, not just as a unique way to tell the story but also to illustrate something that would end up being vital to the larger case they were investigating, is particularly well-done. Not to mention, Bobby’s exasperation with them the entire time—up to and including his response to their (kind-of adorable) attempt to apologize to one another in the middle of fleeing the scene of a crime—makes every moment even better. Bobby is definitely one of my top three favorite side-characters in the show, and I can’t wait for him to start showing up more often from this point on.

My biggest complaint with this episode is the lack of characterization around the Trickster’s third victim—the research scientist that was torn apart by the ‘alligator in the sewer’. For the first two victims—the ethics professor that cheated on his wife with his students, and the frat boy that enjoyed humiliating younger members of his fraternity—there were solid character flaws that the trickster was exploiting and punishing them for. But the only thing we know about the third victim is that he was a research scientist that did animal testing. Dean says that that’s enough to condemn him, and the show obviously expects the audience to agree, and this is where I have to vehemently disagree with them both, because there is not anything inherently wrong with using animals for scientific research. I hate to break this news to some people, but there is a lot of legitimate, important scientific research, most of it in the medical field, that requires animal testing. Without animal testing, we wouldn’t have most of the life-saving medicines and medical procedures that people rely on today, including the vaccines that we are all currently counting on in order to help life get back to normal right now. Without animal testing, a lot of the products that we rely on in our everyday lives wouldn’t exist. I am willing to concede that not all of the testing that is done on animals in certain industries is necessary, but if we are talking about a professor at a college or university, the chances that he was working on something frivolous are extremely low, and the fact that the show expects us to condemn him simply for doing his job, without giving us any other reason, is definitely a stereotype about the scientific profession that I can do without. I hope that it is something that becomes less common in media in the future, given the attention being paid to the importance of science and medicine these days, but demonizing research that can save people’s lives simply because of the way that research has to be done in order to be both safe and effective is a very narrow-minded viewpoint, and I am disappointed that an otherwise amazing episode of this show stoops to using this trope when there was really no need to.

[hnrywinchester]

As It Was

He was Captain America, he could have anyone he wanted, why would he want her? She was the kind of girl who didn’t deserve a guilt-ridden, baggage-carrying superhuman dragging her down. In the assumption the other had deserved better than anything they’d had to offer, they’d lost so much time.

⍟ Steve Rogers x Reader, set in Infinity War

⍟ 9.2k

⍟ Warnings: smut, angst, mutual pining, getting together

⍟ Part 1 of 2

They’d always had a “thing”. It was unspoken, never acted upon, but always recognized. Everyone knew it, too. Natasha would eye them knowingly when he laughed a little too hard at a joke, and Tony, he never missed the opportunity to nudge and shove Steve in her direction when he caught the Captain staring. Then there was Bruce, always trying his best to skate around the subject in conversation, hoping at least one of them would admit it. They never did. They hid under the guise of friend and colleague, but deep down they—and everyone else—knew it was more.

He was Captain America, the golden boy, he ranked up there with apple pie and baseball in the eyes of the nation, and she was just, no one. Of course, Steve Rogers thought that the sun quite possibly was fueled by her, that once she was gone the world might cease to exist. At least his would.

When the fallout from the Accords happened and he disappeared, he’d done so without a goodbye. Not that she’d thought he owed her one. She was a low level grunt, he was an Avenger, one could argue the leader of them (if Tony wasn’t around). She’d never stood a chance.

Life continued. Within a year, the world had seemingly forgotten about Captain America, but she hadn’t. No one had seen, heard from, even spoken of Steve Rogers, but he’d lived on in her thoughts. She hid in the memories of the soft touches to her shoulder as he’d pass that had evolved to brushes against her lower back, his chest grazing against her. Sometimes, she considered maybe there had been something there when she lie in her barren room tossing and turning in the early morning hours. Those times when she felt her cheeks grow hot as his eyes fell quickly from her when she noticed him staring, his mouth twitching as if he was holding back a smile—were they all in her head? Perhaps it had been real, or perhaps she just missed him more than she should.

Jumping from place to place was exhausting, lonesome, and a painful reminder of the life he wished he had. The life he’d been too afraid to start. With each new seedy motel brought another cold, empty bed and the ghost of the woman he wanted to share it with. Sam was sympathetic, assuring him one day he’d see her again, he’d be able to tell her how he felt. As if she’d be waiting for him. Why would she? She was beautiful and strong, she emitted a light that was unmatched. Any man was a fool not to be entirely enraptured with her. He was a fool. She’d have moved on, if there were even any feelings on her end to move on from.

Natasha knew. She understood. She could always sense when the darkness began to close in, just as he could for her. They’d sit in silence, the cheap booze of choice between them emptying faster than it should, both trapped in their fantasizing loops. Every time the same beginning.

“I know you loved her,” Natasha had said one night, soft and cautious.

“It doesn’t matter either way,” he snapped back, harsher than he intended.

“Sure it does. Ever wish you did something different?”

“I wish I did a lot of things differently.”

When Thanos invaded and Bruce had made contact, Steve’s stomach had dropped. They were under attack in New York. The side mission to retrieve Wanda and Vision had been a whirlwind of nerves and adrenaline. While he’d tried to keep his mind focused on the task at hand, he couldn’t help obliging the nagging dread in the back of his mind that she was hurt, in danger or dead. Surely, Bruce would have warned him. But what if it was something else? What if she was happy, dating some guy who treated her right, who didn’t hide his feelings for years and then fall off the face of the planet? Guilt punched him right in the stomach. Was he really sitting here hoping she was just as miserable as he had been? As much as he wanted to say no, he would never… or did he?

Walking back into the Avengers Compound had his stomach in knots. He wandered his way back to his old room, expecting to find it torn down, back to vacant, but it was the same. Everything was exactly where he’d left it all those years ago. He sighed. His mind couldn’t make up where it wanted to be. This was worse than being on the road, he thought. Being back here, nostalgia cruelly seeping through his brain, infecting it with thoughts of what could have been, this was worse. All those nights he’d imagined her in one of those damp hotel rooms didn’t hold a candle to just how badly he wanted one of those drawers in his dresser to be overflowing with her things. The years away had done nothing but stoke the flames.

The shower was warm, the stream strong enough to break through the outer layer of tension he’d been carrying for years. A perk of living in a Stark facility and not a hostel in the deepest, darkest recesses of the world. He stayed until the water began to run cold, he’d lost track of time, but this room held the fewest memories. He needed quiet, he needed to decompress, to sleep. Clean clothes were another perk, as was the bed calling his name. He sat on the edge, head in his hands, blonde hair falling messily over his fingers. The world needed saving and Captain America might soon be decommissioned, from regret and a broken heart.

“Steve?” a familiar voice rang out from the doorway, he’d almost forgotten what it sounded like, “Is that you?”

Slowly, he lifted his head and there she was. This was no illusion. His heart began pounding in his chest, his throat closing in as his mouth went dry. Her hair was shorter, but everything else had remained the same. Her brows were knit together, inspecting him, looking equally as shell-shocked as he felt. Every muscle screamed at him to run, pull her into his arms and never let her go, it was now or never. His brain won out. His self-loathing and his fears. She wasn’t his, she never had been.

“Hey…” he greeted, and she could hear his exhaustion and exasperation.

“It’s really good to see you,” she exhaled. Was that relief?

“Yeah, you too.”

This was his chance and he was blowing it. Years of playing this moment out second for second and none of them had gone his way. None of them had involved him pushing her away, but they should have. It’s all he’d ever done. This was characteristic and expected.

“Can I come in?” she asked, shifting her weight forward in anticipation of his response.

“Sure,” he replied, perking up.

He stood, resisting his arms seemingly involuntary desire of raising to greet her, instead shoving his hands into the loose pockets of his pants, effectively grounding them from doing anything unwarranted. As she approached, the butterflies took flight. He hadn’t been this nervous since World War II, he didn’t miss it. She came within inches, her own arms held stiffly at her sides as if she too was fighting a similar battle to his own.

“Where have you been?” she inquired quietly, her eyes scanning his face, taking in the change in his appearance, “You look so different…”

“Everywhere and nowhere,” he laughed, surprised at the ease washing over him. She always did have that effect, “not many good barbers out where I was hiding…”

“I like it. It suits you.”

A smile broke through, a real one, for the first time in years. His eyes fell away bashfully; it was amazing just how quickly she could make his knees weak. Reason was lost, and in the momentary lapse of control his hand had reached out, sliding gently onto her hip. She was warm beneath his palm, heat flowing through his veins as he pressed his fingertips slightly deeper. It was too late to turn back now. As he anticipated a slap across his cheek, he was surprised when her hand laid gently onto his chest, her eyes following her fingers as she curled them against the fabric. He cursed the thin layer of cotton for existing. For a moment, he swore she saw her lower lip quivering, her eyes blinking four times rapidly, as if she was pushing back tears.

“I um..” she began, voice shaking, “it’s nice to have you back, Cap.”

Cap. Whatever euphoria he was feeling quickly dropped. He was glad his eyes were already directed at the floor, there was nothing that could hide the sadness that was no doubt taking them over. Fingers grazed down her side as his hand fell away, it was too good to be true. It always had been. He was Captain America, Avenger, soldier, nothing more.

“Yeah, it’s nice to be back,” he sighed curtly, his tone firmer, ready to snap back into the persona that had become expected of him.

“I missed you.”

The words were barely discernible, but he didn’t dare ask her to repeat them, in fear she’d redact them. Dragging her lower lip through her teeth nervously, she moved her fingers against his chest again—it was almost intimate. The simple, small gesture sent a shiver down his spine. Their eyes locked again. This time, the walls had fallen, and vulnerability swam in their gazes.

“I missed you, too,” he sighed, taking in her touch and the way she was looking at him. His imagination had done her no justice.

A breathy laugh escaped her lips and it was then that he could see the tears pooling in her lower lids glistening in the dim lighting. She was the most beautiful thing he’d seen in a long while. He took a chance, cupping one side of her face in his hand, his breath hitching when she leaned her head into his palm, eyes closing as she slowly blinked in what looked like comfort. One tear escaped, and reflexively he swiped it with his thumb, wondering how many nights she’d cried for him while he was gone. As many as he had? When his hand reached up to cover hers he expected her to pull it away, but instead her fingers laced with his, holding him to her. He was star struck, in awe of the eyes gazing up at him so filled with reverence and adoration. He could hear his heart beating, feel the pounding of it in his ears. The world washed away and he leaned his head down, capturing her bottom lip between his, and his groan of relief as she pressed closer to him vibrated through them both.

It took every modicum of self control he had to not grab her and release all of the pent up longing he’d been harboring. When he pulled away, she leaned up, pressing her lips to his again, and he knew in that moment she’d felt every second of pain he had these past years. He hadn’t made it all up, it wasn’t a figment of an overactive and lonely imagination; she’d missed him just as he’d missed her. All those little instants he’d remembered so vividly, they were real. The passing glances and fleeting touches, they could have been this. His stomach churned at the thought of all the wasted time, the nights and mornings that could have been. Was it too late to start now?

Their mouths moved with each other effortlessly, slow and searching, but he needed more.

“Tell me what you want,” he told her, lips swollen and breath ragged.

“I just want you,” she answered, voice hoarse, eyes still closed as she pressed her forehead against his, “all of you.”

That was all he needed to hear. He dove back in, intentional and pleading, one arm wrapping tightly around her waist as his hand slid from her cheek to lock into the hair on the side of her head. As he pulled her flush to him her arms wrapped around his middle, clinging to him like she’d been waiting for this moment her entire life. It felt like she had. His tongue slid deftly between her lips and she welcomed each brush and pass of it against her own exuberantly. There was no fight for dominance, it was just them, together, finally.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he whispered, voice husky as he pulled away to look at her, needing to see her, see how he affected her. Maybe it was egotistical, but he’d dreamed of making her fall apart for far too many years to not perform when given the chance.

“Oh I think I do,” she confessed, chest heaving, “why’d we wait so long?”

They laughed, but deep down they knew there was nothing funny about it. It was years of bad decisions, self-deprecation and fear. He was Captain America, he could have anyone he wanted, why would he want her? She was the kind of girl who didn’t deserve a guilt-ridden, baggage-carrying superhuman dragging her down. In the assumption the other had deserved better than anything they’d had to offer, they’d lost so much time. Now, the world was threatened, who knew what lie ahead, but for tonight, they were here.

Gently, he grabbed her hands, leading her to the bed. As much as they’d both wanted this, nervousness began to take over. He sat first, pulling her to stand between his knees, and even sitting he was still almost level with her face. Her breath was shaky as she stared at him, her fingers raising to trace over his cheek and in that moment he’d never felt more… loved. As she mapped his jaw, he turned slightly, pressing her palm to his lips gently, silently urging her on. He was hers for the taking. Reclaiming his kiss, her arms draped loosely around his neck; they learned as much as they could. What caused that sharp intake of her breath? Which motion caused his fingers to dig a little further into the soft skin of her hips? Their pace quickened, and before they knew it shirts had been discarded and pants wrestled off and she pulled away just enough to marvel at the sight before her.

He was every bit of the superhero she’d imagined he’d be. Muscle dipped and curved around his torso, strong, thick arms branching out, she felt inadequate and small in front of him. Sensing her insecurity, he pulled her into his chest, her knees now resting on either side of him as she nestled into his lap.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, nuzzling his nose in the hollow behind her ear, “even more perfect than I imagined you to be.”

The thought of him longing for any of this had her stomach tightening, “Imagining what exactly?” she pressed, desire overtaking her brain.

“Why don’t I show you?”

This wasn’t real, she was passed out on a desk somewhere, she had to be. Yet as he turned, lifting her easily before laying her head onto his pillow, the feel of his forearms pressing into her back as his beard scratched against her chin when his lips returned to her own screamed that this wasn’t a dream. Just as quickly as he’d began, he abandoned her kiss-drunk mouth in favor of exploring the new, uncharted territory he’d uncovered, needing to feel and taste as much of her as he could. He traveled down her jaw to her throat and while he never intended to lose himself, he had, leaving a trail of small purple welts in his wake. His cheeks burned red as he pulled away, his eyes darting to her face as he expected to see her horrified and angry, but she wasn’t. Her fingers tangled into his hair and began to scratch soothingly at his scalp, freeing his concerns to return to his task. As he moved downwards, worshipping every scar and freckle, his hands exploring whatever his lips could not, he felt her slowly begin to relax.

When his fingers finally pressed against her throbbing clit, she seized, trying haplessly to not trap his head between her legs as he peppered soft, fleeting kisses to her inner thighs. This was sensory overload, every inch of her burned and ached, and he was too close and too far at the same time. Firmly, she wrapped her fingers into his long hair, thanking whatever circumstances had led to him growing it out, and pulled his face back to hers, sloppily shoving her tongue into his mouth. The time for sensuality was over.

Not needing any words, he understood. Her riled state was like a drug, and watching her lose control by his hand might never get old, he thought. He hoped he’d get to do it again and again for the rest of his life. The thin sheen of sweat that had formed across her skin had her practically glowing, Her thighs were spread wide, giving him complete freedom and access, and when he thrust his middle finger deep inside of her, the way her mouth opened in a breathless, silent scream was something straight out of his fantasies. She writhed and tensed beneath him, the brush of her skin against him as she arched sent goosebumps in its wake, one small part of him wanted to stay here in this moment forever. He could care less that he was untouched; seeing her face contorted by pleasure was enough for him, but soon she wanted more.

Winding her arms around his neck she pulled him parallel to her flushed body, wrapping her legs around his waist as she stared up into his icy, blue eyes. His blond hair fell forward, brushing gently into her face and it was his turn to unravel. He pressed in slowly, savoring every inch as he slid inside of her, his eyes clamped shut as he tried his best to keep himself together. When their hips finally met, his cock buried inside her completely, he paused. He was trembling, years of pent up sexual frustration and longing cursing to ruin this moment, but he’d be damned if it did.

“You okay?” he asked, kissing hard before she could respond.

“Yeah,” she whined, wiggling her hips, urging him forward.

Of course he obliged. Keeping an even, steady pace was much harder than he recalled it being, or maybe it was just her making self control a near impossible feat, but he managed.  Her moans and whimpers were the most intoxicating sounds that he’d ever heard, the thought alone that he himself was doing this to her was addicting and astonishing. But when his name fell from her lips in a blissed sigh, he was ruined. It flitted into his ears like the sweetest symphony, and his head fell forward into the crook of her neck as he groaned, eyes snapping shut as he let his other senses take over. He felt her hot, wet heat surrounding him, listened for her raspy breathing as the sweet smell of her perfume wafted into his nose. Her fingers were digging into the taut muscles of his back, thighs clenching around him as her impending release built up stronger and stronger.

“Steve...” she whined again, having enjoyed the first reaction. The second didn’t disappoint.

His desperate moan fell hot against her throat, his pace growing faster as he fought to please her. One of the most powerful men to ever grace the earth was reduced to a panting, quivering mess, exposed and raw, as he gave himself to her. All of him. When the true significance of the moment settled into her head, it was like her nerves revved into overdrive.

As much as neither wanted this to end, the pressure was becoming unbearable. His teeth were clenched as he tried to push it back, the muscles of her stomach and thighs tightening as she clung to him for dear life and then, their dams broke simultaneously. A high-pitched moan rang free from his chest as he pulled out at just the right moment, spilling across her stomach, his free hand reaching down to ensure she rode her ecstasy for as long as possible. Panting, he fought to keep his eyes open, to watch her pleasure fueled squirms and hear the soft, restrained noises trickling free from her throat. Never in his life had he ever felt so satisfied, so light and free. It wasn’t the sex, this was more than that. It had been the comfort of being safely sheathed inside her body that she’d willingly given to him, her arms wrapped around him holding him close. He felt… normal.

The fog in her head began to clear and she could hear her heaving breaths as she came back down. She could feel his warmth radiating from above her, his weight dipping her further into the mattress than usual. He was all-consuming, and she was content with the fact that she wanted to be his. She always had. There was no right way to bridge that subject, what if this was a one time thing? Returning from life on the run had to be taxing, bizarre, disorienting, perhaps he just needed something to ground himself. Someone to ease him back into life as he’d once known it, and she’d happened to stumble upon him at the right moment.

“I think you need a shower now, doll, sorry about that…” he chuckled, his voice snapping her fully back to reality.

Doll. A normal despiser of pet names, she felt her stomach jump at his words. Lazily, his mouth pressed against hers again, he was clearly just as spent as she was. She returned his gesture just as slow, running her hand along the length of his arm, feeling the flex of his bicep as he shifted above her.

“Wish my room wasn’t so far,” she nervously faltered, hoping the statement was enough to let him know she was ready to be told to leave.

“Your room? I have a shower ten feet away,” he replied, his face twisting into amusement.

“I didn’t think you’d want me to stay…”

“Of course I want you to stay. What kinda guy do you take me for, huh?”

His smile could light the darkest night, she was almost certain. Always genuine and toothy, fine lines crinkling the outer corners as it reached eyes. She loved the rare moments when he was carefree and unburdened and never once did she think it would be her that would pull out one of those heart-stopping grins. Quickly, he pressed his lips to her forehead, instructing her to join him when she was ready, and after a few moments to compose her rampant thoughts, she did.

When Natasha went to find Steve a few hours later, a knowing smile tugged at her lips as she slowly pushed the door open after receiving no response. The pair was soundly asleep, Steve on his back, his arm protectively wrapped around her small figure nestled into his side. It had only taken him a few years, but he’d finally gotten the courage to go for it. For a moment she wondered just how much of it was his doing, and how much was the others. She assumed it was the latter.

“Good for you, Steve,” she smiled under her breath, closing the door quietly behind her.

The next morning, her eyes were greeted by a very unfamiliar glow—the sun. Typically, she never made it much past dawn, so waking to a subtle orange glow burning through the thin skin of her eyelids was foreign, as was the firm, hot surface she was laying on. It took a moment to regain her thoughts, the events of the past night flooding back as her eyes fluttered open to the sight of the man she’d spent it with. He was still out cold, his mouth slightly open as he rest, and she knew he needed it. Without even thinking, her fingers began running up and down the expanse of his smooth, pale skin, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek lulling her right back into a serene dream state. Before long, she felt him stir beneath her, his head turning to rest against hers, fingers drawing absent-minded circles along her back as he roused slowly from the best sleep he’d had since the ice.

“Morning,” he greeted, his voice still heavy with sleep, one side of his mouth ticked up in a smirk.

“Hey,” she breathed, replaying every action that brought her here to waking up in his arms.

“Sleep okay?’

“Mhmm, you?”

“Better than I have in a long time.”

His openness surprised her. Despite this entire thing being brand new, he had no restraints in letting her know how much he wanted her there with him.

“Me too,” she admitted before pushing herself up to lay a sweet, simple kiss on his lips.

Bruce came knocking seconds later, a happy smile settling onto his face at the discovery of them together. He’d known all along that this was where they’d both wanted to be, making the news he bore even harder to deliver. It was time to go. With the fate of the universe held in the balance, there was no time for slow, lazy mornings. Not yet, but Steve would be damned if he didn’t fight with everything he had so there would be.

“You coming?” he inquired, pulling her further into his embrace, “We could use all hands on deck.”

That wasn’t a question she’d been expecting. Never once had she ever anticipated going on mission with the Avengers, especially one of this caliber. Steve had given her a summary as they’d laid in bed the night before, explaining what bits and pieces he’d collected himself. He’d tried his best to sound confident and ready, but she could hear the waver in his voice. This opponent was nothing like they’d ever seen before, with a mission far more sinister than any other.

“You want me to go?” she doubted, feeling like her presence would be a distraction, a risk.

“I do,” he cooed, “I want you with me… not because I don’t think you can protect yourself, because you can… it’s just, I spent years… wishing, and now that you’re here, I… I’m sorry, I’m… idealizing here...”

“Steve…” she began, seeing in his eyes he had the same doubts she’d had the night before, “I’m here.”

She meant it, and she knew he did too. Despite this being new, it felt like they’d been here forever. Maybe it was years of wishing for it or visions of the other and what could have been at every near-death experience, but this felt comfortable, routine, complete. Their mouths found the other again, this time purposeful and heated, he didn’t want to leave without again showing her how much he’d prayed for this to whatever or whoever might be out there listening.

“Everyone is waiting…” she breathed out, reaching between them to grab his stiffening erection, mission be damned.

“Let them wait another ten minutes,” he growled, pulling her on top of him.

In one quick stroke he filled her, bottoming out as she easily slide down the length of him, her mouth hanging open as their foreheads met. She rode him to completion, throwing inhibitions to the wind, showing him just how good he made her feel. If they were heading into a battle where they were outmatched and outgunned, there would be no regrets. He let her have her way with him, use him to get herself off, and he watched in awe. Sweat-soaked hair covered her forehead, and he pushed it from her eyes, needing to see her falling apart for him; he was going to remember this until the day he died. Once she was spent, she collapsed on top of him, whispering how badly she wanted to feel him and his primal urges took over. With one quick flip she was beneath him, his hips crashing into hers in desperation, soft, grunting moans filling the room until he sighed in utter relief as he came. Leaving this bed was going to be a challenge, but losing her would be worse.

The flight to Wakanda was filled with nerves. No one spoke. Steve sat in the back of the jet on his own while she rekindled with Natasha, her mentor and trainer for many years. Nat didn’t broach the subject of Steve, not wanting her to know she’d seen them the night before, but she could see a difference in her pupil’s eye. They were brighter, more filled with life and purpose. Steve gave her purpose, and Nat knew that protecting her would always be his will to persevere.

When the battle ensued, they were quickly separated. She found out the hard way that this was far above her pay grade. Her heart pounded as she lie panting on the ground, the carnage ensuing around her. Tears burned against her eyes as she watched the Wakandans falling, the alien creatures swarming faster than they could keep up.

“Get up, doll,” Steve encouraged as he knelt beside her from out of nowhere, “you can do it. I know you can.”

Nodding, she let him pull her to her feet, his hand gripping behind her head as he pulled her in for a quick kiss—he couldn’t resist. With a stern instruction to stay safe and alert, he was gone, the arrival of Thor pulling his attention away. His words gave her strength, and she picked up her weapon and went back to work.

“Somebody get to Vision!” Steve screamed into the earpiece firmly placed in her ear and she took off in a run back towards the tower.

Unknowing of what exactly she was walking into, she was glad to see Bruce had already arrived, but her stomach dropped when he was quickly thrown from the scene, at least taking one of Thanos’ creatures with him. Embarrassingly, she hid as she watched Vision struggle against his adversary, but she knew there was nothing she could do. She prayed someone else was coming. Wanda had responded but had yet to appear, and her mind wandered to just who they may have lost in the crossfires.

When Steve came sprinting from the side, she sighed in relief. He hadn’t seen her, but had commanded Vision to run, whose eyes immediately fell to her in her hiding place and then returned to the fight. He knew she’d been there all along and her face burned in shame. Turning her attention back to the fight she watched as Steve was tossed around like a rag doll, and she froze in fear. Her brain screamed at her to help him, but her muscles were paralyzed as she watched the man she loved, a man she thought invincible, being slowly choked to death before her eyes.

Vision calling her name softly peaked her attention, his finger pointing to the alien scepter that had been tossed near her left hand. She grabbed it, Vision’s small nod urging her forward and she ran, a guttural scream rattling through her bones as she shoved it straight through the Captain’s attacker in one fell stroke, every ounce of strength even she didn’t know she had pushing out through her hands. Steve’s eyes went wide as the blade jutted out from the chest inches from his face, as he was unsure if the blade was friend or foe. His lungs were fighting to regain lost air, and he pushed himself to the side as the body of his assailant fell forward, revealing his savior. She fell to her knees beside him, grabbing his face in her hands as she assessed him, a tear sliding from the outer corner of her eye.

“You’re okay,” she stated, more telling herself than him, “you’re okay.”

“Atta girl…” he sighed in relief, pulling her into his chest, the shields attached to his arms making the embrace awkward but they didn’t care, “I need you to hide. I need you hide, darlin’. Okay?”

“What?” she scoffed, turning to look at him and she could see the terror that had fallen over his face.

“I can’t lose you.”

Simple. Honest. She understood. Nodding, she kissed him, tasting the dirt on his lips. Vision’s scream from where he lay with Wanda at his side interrupted their brief, stolen moment. Thanos was coming. She watched as Steve transformed right back into Captain America, his face hardening and his back straightening. This was it. This was the end.

“Go,” he commanded, and she knew there was no point in arguing.

She couldn’t pull herself to go far, she needed him in her sight. The scene unfolding before her eyes was like nothing any of them could have predicted. They’d never stood a chance. Thanos walked through them all without so much as a scratch. When Steve had been knocked to the ground, his body unmoving on the forest floor, she ran to him. She didn’t care that the tyrant was still walking free among them, she didn’t care that she could easily be snapped in two, all she saw was him, lying limp on the ground, and that was all that mattered. Thankfully, she went undetected as she turned him over, trying to keep her sobs in check to keep attention off of her.

“Steve?” she whimpered, “Steve? Wake up…”

As her eyes darted from his unconscious form, to Wanda and Vision, to Thanos, she heard him groan.

“I thought I told you… to hide…” he grimaced, holding his side.

“Yeah… I don’t listen very well…” she teased, lacing her one hand’s fingers with his on his ribs, the other brushing his hair that had fallen into his eyes, “you gotta get up, come on.”

With her help, he pushed himself to a seated position and their attention was grabbed by the events unfolding. Wanda had effectively destroyed the stone, and Vision in the process, but the couple watched in horror as Thanos turned back time with no more than a simple turn of his wrist, before ripping the final stone from the revived Vision’s head. Steve’s arms wrapped around her, there was nothing left they could do. Their heads turned, foreheads pressing to one another as they shared what they assumed to be their final moment.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, feeling his failure, “For everything.”

“You know, I think I love you, Steve Rogers,” she confessed finally, a weight lifting from her shoulders as she kissed the tip of his nose.

“I do know. I do.”

Before he could kiss her again, the arrival of Thor sent a ripple of hope through the discarded heroes, his axe plunging deep in Thanos’ chest, but it was too little too late. Thanos snapped his fingers before disappearing, and with his last surge of energy Steve jumped to his feet and ran towards the scene, her hot on his heels.

“Where’d he go?” Steve asked, desperate and exasperated as he searched, “Thor… where’d he go?”

“Steve,” Bucky called from the right, and they watched as the Winter Soldier dissolved into dust.

He ran, kneeling down and running his fingers over the ash that was his best friend, his stomach dropping as his vision started to tunnel. He was gone, without a trace, his weapon discarded on the ground as if he’d never existed at all. Others followed in Bucky’s path, the pain of loss becoming palpable as members of their team disappeared. Steve pushed himself to standing, running and pulling her into his arms, his eyes frantic as his chest heaved. Not her, too. Please not her. They gripped each other tightly, squeezing to the point of dull pain as they waited in agony for their fates.

“Please no,” she whimpered, “stay.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, doll. Okay? Look at me,” he directed, keeping his own fears suppressed, “look at me…”

He didn’t care who was watching. He dove in, kissing her hard and bruising, and in any other circumstances it would have been cause for celebration. But not today. Their remaining friends watched on as Captain America, their leader, their friend, their family, clung to the person he loved, his eyes pinched shut as he kissed her like it was the last time. No one knew yet if it was. It wasn’t happy, it was heartbreaking. They sat painfully still, hoping if maybe they didn’t move, it increased their chances of life, their foreheads pressed together, breath mingling between them.

Hearts began to settle as time passed, the snap had seemingly done its work, and Steve kissed her again. Slower this time, thankful and pained. Somehow, they’d both made it out alive, but instead of a wave of relief, he was pummeled by guilt and failure. All those lives lost, they were on him. This was his loss, and trillions suffered because of it.

“Steve…” she fretted, seeing the emotions playing across his face, cupping his jaw in her hand, “hey…”

“It should have been me,” he mourned, and her expression fell.

“No. Don’t you dare…”

Leave it to him to shoulder every modicum of blame. Alone, he walked off and no one followed. She stood back with the remaining group, too shocked by his words to think clearly. He wished it was him that had dissipated to nothing. All she wanted to bury herself into his embrace, but he was gone. Nat’s hand found her shoulder in comfort, but she couldn’t let her tears free around them. Not without Steve.

“Whatever happens next, don’t give up on him,” Nat insisted, her voice low enough for only her to hear, “He needs you, whether he wants to admit it or not.”

“Do you know where he went?” she asked, looking off in the direction walked off in.

“If I had to guess, Bucky’s cabin.”

His feet couldn’t carry him fast enough as he ran through the forest, the branches whipping at his face, but he couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel anything. When he reached the tiny cottage he was thankful it had remained unscathed in the attacks. His hand lingered on the door, fighting himself between needing to see it and knowing it was only going to make everything worse. Leaving Bucky here had been one of his most difficult decisions, but he knew it had been the best one. Being on the run had left no opportunity to come into Wakanda. Despite T’Challa’s promises that he would be safe there, he couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t risk the other people that had depended on him. Three of which were now dead. Thanks to him.

Screaming, he threw the closest object, a table, to the opposite end of the small hut, his anger boiling his blood. Before he could wrangle it in, he was in a complete destructive rage. Furniture flung around the room as he bellowed and roared, and holes in the wall appeared from his fists when something hadn’t been close enough to grab. His cheeks were flushed, head drenched with sweat, hair falling wildly into his eyes. He was a man crazed.

Finally, once all but the bed lay in ruins, he fell to his knees and let his tears flow freely. He wondered which of his decisions had led to this, which of his errors had been the catalyst for annihilation. Damn if he hadn’t tried, maybe if he hadn’t run, maybe if he’d agreed with Tony on the Accords or realized HYDRA’s infiltration of S.H.I.E.L.D. sooner… The possibilities were endless and his mind couldn’t stop racing.

“Steve…” she called as she approached, not wanting to join the broken and shattered contents of the house.

“How long have you been here?” he asked, his voice cold and flat. Not that it mattered, the evidence of his destruction was surrounding him.

“Long enough.”

Certainly now she’d want nothing to do with him, and then he truly would have lost everything. His head hung in shame as she stopped in front of him, and when her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him into her chest, he sighed. She held him until his breathing slowed and his heart rate returned to normal. Her suit smelled like the Earth and ash, a stark reminder to the hell she’d been put through at his request. He’d asked to come here. He put her in danger over his selfish need to have her close. How different was he from any other villain? Risking the people he loved for himself.

“You’re a good man,” she told him, “Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise. Not even yourself.”

“This was a mistake,” he replied, and she wasn’t sure what he was referring to.

“What was?”

“Wrapping you up into my messes.”

“I made my choice.”

“You made the wrong one.”

“It was still mine to make.”

Her unwavering faith and devotion for him should have made his heart soar, but at the moment all he could see was her dead on the floor. It was the inevitable end, he knew it was. Everyone he’d ever loved had been lost. Why for one second did he think he wasn’t going to ruin her as well?

“Do you want me to love you, Steve?” she pressed and he could feel her eyes boring into him, yet he didn’t dare meet her gaze, “Or is it easier if you just think I hate you?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, and he didn’t.

“If none of this matters to you then fine-‘

“I never said it didn’t matter.”

It mattered. It was the most important thing in his world. She was everything, and he was nothing. He didn’t deserve her love, he didn’t deserve anyone’s. Half of life had just ceased to exist thanks to him and his failures, and it was by some grace from a higher power that she had survived; she deserved to remain untainted by him.

An uncomfortable silence settled as she waited for him to make a decision, her cheeks growing hot as she fought back her tears. She was exhausted, mentally and physically. Losing him now would be far too much to bear and she had to fight. Nat’s words played over in her head, and she knew the hardest battle would be breaking through his own thoughts. His head turned to peer at her and he looked lost. His face was red and blotchy, eyes heavy and dark with guilt and blame and she was certain she’d never loved anyone more. Not that it mattered. He was checked out, receded back behind the walls of a responsibility no one man should have to carry alone.

“This was not your fault,” she stated strongly, placing her hands on either side of his face.

His silence spoke louder than any words could have.

“Tell me to leave,” she commanded, letting her hands fall from his face. She needed to hear him say it.

He couldn’t, it would be a lie to the highest order, and despite it all, he couldn’t lie to her. Even if it was the right thing to do, to save her from himself, he couldn’t do it.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he cried, unable to keep his pain from surfacing in his voice.

“What do you want then?” she asked him, and he wished her hands were still softly cradling his jaw, his head was throbbing and he felt as if he was about to collapse.

What did he want? He wanted to go back in time, fix his mistakes, kill Thanos, kiss her seven years ago when life was easier and time was infinite. He wanted to throw her against that wall and fuck her until he was drowning in her, his brain numb and focused only on the way it felt to be buried inside of her. He wanted sleep, a shower, a hug… The list droned on as he felt his eyes getting heavy, the events of the day catching up to him, his adrenaline finally faltering.

“I don’t know,” he told her again, his uncertainty in himself was making her ache, “but I don’t want you to leave. Even though I think you should.”

“I’m not leaving,” she affirmed, walking away from him to sit on the bed.

“Your call.”

With a gentle pat on the bed beside her, she beckoned him over, and he obeyed. She was a pillar of strength, the eye of the storm and the home he’d been searching for his entire life. Her arm guided him to his side, his head laid gently in her lap. When her fingers began gently raking through his hair, he felt the knot in his chest loosen ever so slightly. Watching him unravel before her eyes was a form of cruel and unusual punishment, she’d spent too long wishing for this and fear had infiltrated her thoughts. He would be lost before they’d even began.

They sat in silence, the room going dark as the sun set, but neither moved.

“It should have been me,” he whimpered as the last of the light dipped below the Wakanda tree line, his body tensing as he spoke the words.

“Well, it wasn’t,” she confirmed, “and is this how you want to use the time you’ve been given?”

“I don’t know what I want, I don’t know what to do, I don’t…. know. I don’t know.”

“Stop saying that and think, Steve. The first thing that comes to mind, say it.”

“I want to go back.”

“You can’t.”

“I want to go home.”

“Okay. Let’s go home.”

The Compound wasn’t the same. No one made eye contact, mumbled greetings in passing were the only words anyone spoke. Steve had insisted she stay in his room with him, but she wasn’t sure why. He was a shell of his former self, barely there and functioning. He never slept, he never ate, he was too busy searching the universe for signs of Thanos or Tony Stark, both which had disappeared without a trace. Every day he came up empty. Some nights he’d oblige her with quick, detached sex. She wasn’t sure if he was just going through the motions of what she expected of him, or if the release was just something he needed to reset his brain. Still, every night she fell asleep alone in his bed, staring at the empty left side. She didn’t dare bring it up, either, knowing it would only work to wreck him further. She just persevered, hoping that after time he’d return to his normal self, or at least wake from this trance he’d set himself into.

Every so often, when he walked by her, his hand would drift to her hip, his lips tugging into a sad smile. He knew what he was doing, but the awareness of his shortcomings wasn’t enough to make him change. He was all-consumed. She was quiet, and he didn’t know if it was a result of the state of the world, or him. When he slipped into bed in the wee hours of the morning, her hair fanned out along his pillow, her face at ease as she slept, he told himself it wasn’t him. It couldn’t be. Yet he never found the courage to pull her into his chest like he so desperately wanted to, hold her close as he had the night before the world fell to ashes. Maybe because, deep down, he knew he was breaking her beyond repair.

“Steve?” she had called out one day as he’d been at his usual post, staring at the blinking maps, hoping that one day something or someone would pop out at him. It had been twenty one days of nothing, hope was dwindling.

“Hey,” he greeted quietly, his gaze not even turning to her.

“Can you… give me a few minutes?”

“What do you mean?”

“I miss you…”

“I haven’t left.”

If he’d ever wished to take words back, those were the ones. The response was cold and shallow. He knew what she’d meant, and he’d just… disregarded it.

“Do you even want me around?” she asked, her voice thick with the tears she was holding back, “because I can go…”

Hearing her say it was like a punch to his chest, so why couldn’t he answer her? Reassure her, take her hands and pull her into his arms. He wanted it, she wanted it, but he remained still. After a few seconds of his silence, she took it as his answer, nodding once before heading back to his room. No doubt to collect her things and leave. You know, I think I love you, Steve Rogers replayed in his head, those had been her dying words. When for a moment she thought the world was ending, she’d confessed her love for him with her final breaths, and this was how he thanked her, how he showed her he felt exactly the same way.

Love was a funny thing. It didn’t make sense or obey the laws of reason. It was messy and dirty and painful, but as Steve rounded the corner to see her slowly taking her clothes out of that drawer he’d left empty all those years, he knew that he’d let her destroy him if it would only make her feel better. She was one step from being gone and finally his priorities shifted. It wasn’t good that it had taken this drastic of a threat to get him to see the error in his ways, he knew that, but he couldn’t let her walk out that door.

As she threw her things into a neat pile on the floor, tears falling down her reddened face, out of nowhere a pair of hands turned her around, pushing her up against the nearest wall. The bright blue eyes she’d been desperate to see stared back at her, inches away, and she didn’t know whether to respond with fear or passion. He was pinning her gently enough that if she wanted to leave, she could, his chest heaving, eyebrows furrowed and she wished she could hear the conversation happening in his head. Her hands trembled as she fought the urge to grab his waist and bury her face into his chest. He’d already rejected her once, why try again?

When she didn’t protest his nearness, he pushed forward, gripping under her thighs and lifting her around his waist, his mouth crashing down onto hers rough and fueled by regret. His tongue dove between her parted lips, her own welcoming him in, and his nerves quieted for a moment. Maybe it wasn’t already too late. It didn’t take long before his pants were pulled down and hers had disappeared, her body wrapped around him as he slammed into her over and over, desperate and starved. He couldn’t help the throaty moans that fell from his mouth against her neck with each slam of his hips against hers, apologies and professions mixed in as he tried to give her everything he had. She was virtually silent, her hands gripping him for dear life as her head flew further and further into the clouds.

“Y’feel so good,” he whimpered, “I’m sorry, darlin’, I’m sorry.” He hoped she believed him.

She came once, twice, three times, each more powerful than the last. Between his fingers, mouth and the ravaging pace he fucked her with, she was a goner. It made her wonder if this was the last time. If it was, at least he was making it memorable. She’d have the bruises to remind her for at least a week. Finally, his hips sputtered, head falling to the wall beside hers, sweaty and flushed. How was she ever supposed to get over him when this image of his satiated, blissed face would be seared into her brain forever?

“I want you to stay,” he insisted, pressing his forehead to her temple, her body frozen with shock, “I want you to stay.”

“Okay,” she assured, locking her fingers into his hair, and for the first time in a long time, he held her.

Face buried into the crook of her neck, arms around her waist, she felt his silent promise to be better. When he lifted his eyes to look at her, his gaze searching her face for signs of forgiveness, she smiled. One last chance, she didn’t need to say it. There was only so much pain a person was willing to subject themselves to for the sake of love, and she’d endured more than her share at his expense. He thought back to his actions over the previous three weeks, how he’d pushed her further and further away each passing day and she had stayed faithful, patient and present. He didn’t deserve her, but she didn’t deserve to hurt from his own deprecation, it wasn’t her burden to bear. She’d chosen him and now, he realized, he needed to covet that decision. It wasn’t made lightly or easily. She’d fought for this against time, aliens and even he himself.

“I love you,” he finally said, and her eyes snapped shut. Finally, confirmation.

That night he crawled into bed beside her, clutching her close as they drifted to sleep, his mind quieting long enough to allow a few solid hours. He woke feeling like a new man. He stayed in bed until her eyes fluttered open, her fingers caressing against his chest in the most endearing of ways.

“What did you want to do today?” he asked, pulling a surprised look from the woman nestled against him. Today, and everyday hereafter, would be theirs.

The question was futile. The universe had other plans. As she showered, getting ready for a day of what was supposed to be a new beginning, a new superhuman had appeared looking for Nick Fury. She was the other end of the mysterious pager that had been bestowed upon them from who they had assumed had belonged to the man she was searching for. Now they knew. Fury had been hiding his knowledge of this woman for years. No one knew a thing, or if she could even be trusted, until she promised to find the missing Tony Stark, if he was still out there, and bring him home. Then they had no choice but to believe.

When “Carol” had left, Steve looked to her with a deep sadness in his eyes. The world as it was came first, it always would.

“Just… be in bed by ten…” she teased, pressing herself against into his side, his arms wrapping around her.

He smirked as he kissed her forehead, “It’s a date.”

[coeurdastronaute]

Titan 4

Previously on Titan

From the elevator, the guests could hear how busy the penthouse grew with every ding and opening of the doors. Every light was on, and every door was opened leading out onto the balconies and patios. Albert slept uneasily on a pile of coats on the guest bed, and no one knew as they were distracted with re-welcoming the returned lovebirds. The murmur of friends and family, mixed with the music and the evening and the summer breeze that whispered in from the balcony.

The dining room table was full-- glasses of mixed levels, empty and full bottles of wine, lots of amazing food. The faces around it all laughed and talked over and across of each other, while the evening grew long and deep into the night, unnoticed by anyone at all.

While it was once very empty, despite Kara’s best attempts, the penthouse warmed with its new furniture and nicknacks. After just a month back, it all felt still new and familiar at the same time. The city was the same, the work was the same, and yet everything was skewed slightly, and they were different people.

As everyone finally sat down, as Kara finally finished fluttering around the table, and Lena finished topping off glasses and chatting with Eliza about some shared research methods, as Jss mocks James for his cover story, and earns a laugh from Kat who yells down the table for Lucy to recall a time in Budapest, and so on and so forth, the couple finally found themselves sitting close together at dinner.

Kara winked at Lena between a smile and a talk with her sister. Lena smiled at all of it and decided that she needed more nights like that.

“Thank you everyone, for coming to this dinner, and I guess a welcome back party,” Kara stood from her chair after earning a slight nudge from Lena.

The voices chattered their approval, clapping their hands and making the host blush slightly.

“But we didn’t invite you here just as a re-house warming.”

“Are you leaving again?” Alex interrupted.

“Adopting?” Eliza smiled over her glass of wine.

“Engaged?” Nia squealed.

“Close. Um,” Kara gulped and looked at Lena. “We wanted everyone here to tell them-- well… we had to explain-- about how… see--”

“What Kara is trying to say,” Lena stood and rubbed Kara’s shoulder. “Is that before we came back, I asked Kara to marry me.”

“I knew it!” James shook his head as he wagged his finger, leaning forward at the table. “I told you Lucy.”

“And we got married,” she continued, the shock registering quite quickly. “A very quick afternoon trip to the courthouse, and a honeymoon planned for the summer.”

The quiet was a noticeable difference from the hubbub of the party. Kara gulped again and sipped her wine more eagerly. She felt Lena grip her shoulder and then hug her bicep tight as she could. It was an anchor when Kara very badly wanted to float away and disappear.

At one end of the table, Eliza looked to J’onn for confirmation, earning a slight nod as he smiled into his glass. In the quiet, the mother looked at both of the girls, the same ones she watched grow up together and face some of the most difficult things anyone could imagine-- and she saw how right it seemed.

With a small movement, the matriarch pushed out her chair and made her way around toward the center of the table, where she paused near the couple.

“I am so happy for you, both,” Eliza smiled, eyes growing glasses. She hugged Lena and Kara to her.

The table lashed out with its energy, disbelief and joy raged together in smiles and hugs and jokes and cheers. Down the line, the gobsmacked members of the makeshift family shared in on the celebration because they were too surprised to do much else.

“Welcome to the family,” Eliza smiled as she held Lena’s cheeks. She hugged her tightly and Lena clung to the motherly figure as tightly as she could, burying her nose there.

Among the hugs and all, the mother swallowed Lena in an embrace and kissed her cheek before whispering how much she loved her and wanted her in her family. Lena cried, she couldn’t help it and she hated how happy it made her.

“Does this mean no wedding?” Alex furrowed. “I thought you would want the whole wedding experience.”

“Um,” Kara squinted slightly and looked to her wife. “I think we’re okay without it. It was more important that we just committed, to be a team.”

“But the fancy dress, and the reception, and your family?” Maggie offered, swooning at the thought of her own as she looked at the ring Lena put on.

“We didn’t think you all would mind missing a rather large swaray,” Lena shrugged.

“It’s just something to think about.”

Kara offered a smile and wrapped her arm around her wife’s waist.

“A nice dress would be fun,” she shrugged.

When she was seventeen years old, Lena Luthor fell in love with two things at the exact same time. One, was her beautiful, kind, funny best friend, who had hair like wheat and eyes like the ocean, who ate all of the snacks she set out and still wanted more, who liked to sit and soak up the sun until her skin was burnt.

The second, of course, was the complex system of nerves that connected the bran to the rest of the body. During an anatomy class geared toward mechanical studies, Lena fell absolutely head over heels for the way the body worked and how it could heal and adapt, and more important, how tiny impulses that fired at alarming speeds operated the simplest of movements at a near constant pace. It was a computer, and she was obsessed with computers.

It became her life’s mission to love and understand each of her passions, one she took up very eagerly.

“We had a deal, Sam,” Lena shook her head as she dug into the open guts of a computer-esque system that took up a rather large desk in the corner of the building.

“We did, and you were supposed to be living a stress-free life in South America, but we’re compromising.”

Big brown eyes waited anxiously, surveying the working hands as she leaned against the desk. She was reluctant to admit her job was easier with Lena back. The mega-corporation was a multi-headed beast that required many skilled wranglers, and Lena wasn’t apt to hire many of them, because that would involve trust.

But she had a weakness for the ones she did.

“I’m supposed to be planning my honeymoon, just so you know.”

Lena didn’t look up from her work as she spoke, but rather surveyed after soldering.

“It’s a quick trip, and then you can get back to being ridiculously adorable with Kara. I can’t make it there and to the conference in Paris, where I was summoned.”

“I’d rather answer to the EU assembly than go to Metropolis.”

“And I’d rather go speak at the university, but they settled for you, and it’s commencement. Think of all the impressionable kids that need to hear your words.”

Flattery wasn’t as effective as it was on most, but Sam knew it got her somewhere with her boss. She also knew that Lena was fighting it for reasons other than wanting to stay home all of a sudden.

“The deal was, I do busy work and help with the management side of my company, in exchange for two uninterrupted days of research,” she reminded her appointed president of the company that bore her name. “You do your thing, and I get to do mine. I keep strict hours. I’m learning to cook.”

“Kara can order out for a night,” Sam reminded her. “She can take Ruby for pizza. Then both of them are fed, and hopefully one will keep the other out of trouble.”

“That’s too much responsibility for Ruby.”

“Fly in for the evening, do your speech, shake some hands. The press will be fantastic, and after your marriage news broke, we kind of need something else in the headlines.”

“First, Eliza guilts me, and then Maggie. I didn’t expect you to also be in on this conspiracy to make me have a wedding.”

“No one is making you, I think we just would have liked to have been there,” she shrugged. “And the press loves a good story.”

“There’s no story,” Lena grumbled, exasperated and annoyed. “She’s not some stranger I picked up on the street.”

“A quickie marriage, a swift and quiet return after fleeing in the night-- it’s a very particular story.”

“I’m going to go on this trip, just to get away from all of you.”

“You’ll go then?” Sam didn’t wait. She hugged her friend and earned a grimace before melting. Lena Luthor wasn’t the hardest person to convince when she felt something. “Think of it as a pre-honeymoon,” Sam sang as she wiggled her eyebrows and made her way back towards her own office.

The penthouse was alive as Kara trudged her way home, slightly sloppy from the sudden shower that popped up on her commute home from a long day of hunting down a lead to a very old story she hoped to turn into a rather long article. She expected a few hours of quiet. Thursdays were Lena’s night at the lab, but after her day, Kara was excited to see her wife.

She hadn’t necessarily gotten used to that word-- wife. Kara wrestled with her coat as she tugged the sticky fabric from her arms and fiddled with the ring on her finger. Lena Luthor was her wife. They were forever. The seventeen year old in her was still kind of surprised by it.

Two months back, and they were a married couple that lived in the same city that was nearly torn apart because of them, and that was challenging. Maybe Lena planned n the joys of the first year of marriage as the thing that helped them get over the hump.

“Son of a --”

The pans rattled in the kitchen, blurring out the inevitable swearing.

“How hard is it to make a damn lasagna?” Lena complained as she stared at the mess in the pan.

The rest of the counter was covered in food and bowls, and the smell was a little different, not exactly what Eliza or even Alex could mix up.

“Hey, honey,” Kara muttered as a particularly despondent Lena furrowed at her mess. “I didn’t expect you home… and cooking?”

“I really wanted some comfort food, and Eliza’s lasagna is my favorite, but I can’t get it right,” she pouted, swirling the goopy mess in the pan. “And Sam is making me go to Metropolis.”

“Hm, okay interesting.”

The former hero slowly circled, avoiding her wife only to reach around and fill up two glasses of wine from the half empty bottle on the counter. Sometimes there was no really understanding Lena and her moods, there was simply surviving them.

“Did you see that article?” Lena asked, taking out more things to chop and cook.

“Mhm.”

“Prison paroles employment and education plan.”

“Mmm,” Kara nodded into her glass of wine as she sipped and watched.

“He’s an ass. I should have burned that house down in Metropolis. I should have emptied his accounts. All of them.”

“Yeah.”

“And I have to go to Metropolis. I didn’t even want to come back to National City.”

The pan clanged into the sink as Lena gave up her struggle and tossed it aside, distraught at her failure and everything else.

She was new to the marriage thing, but Kara knew better than to point out the fact that her wife wanted to come back-- felt the need to come back, were the exact words. She definitely wasn’t going to point that out though. She definitely wasn’t going to take the brunt of the pent up anger that was evident toward the lasagna.

“Hey, look, I poured you more wine,” Kara offered, kissing her wife’s cheek and handing over the new cup.

“I have to go to Metropolis, and I have to learn how to make lasagna.”

“Sit, yeah, sit down and drink,” she tutted.

“Why did you make me come back?”

“Because I am a terrible person, and I am only happy when you’re miserable,” Kara explained as she started to dig through the cabinet.

“Don’t say that, you’re spectacular,” Lena disagreed eagerly. “You’re my wife. You can’t say things like that.”

“Before I could though?”

“Well no.”

On the space she cleared, Kara began her work as best she could, prepared to provide sustenance to her worried wife. Sometimes, she was learning, making a peanut butter sandwich after a long day and drinking a very expensive bottle of wine was all that being married meant.

“I’ll go with you, if you want,” Kara offered as she cut the sandwich in half.

“It’s just for a night.”

“Still. I like a night away. A fancy hotel with the good soaps and all that privacy.”

With a smile, Kara handed over half of her sandwich to her wife.

“Are you…. Do you want to spend money?”

“Shut up.”

Lena smiled into her glass while she picked at the sandwich. She didn’t worry about the mess and she didn’t think too hard about much else than a trip with Kara. That was how she survived most of the time.

“We came back here as a team,” Kara explained, her blush moving to her ears as she spoke with conviction. “I’d go anywhere with you. You don’t have to do it alone.”

“Thank you.”

“Good. I’ll thank Sam for giving us a vacation,” she smiled before taking a big bite.

“I have to work.”

“Right, yes, but hotel sex.”

“Today was a really shitty day before you came home,” Lena sighed contentedly as she shared the rest of her sandwich after her wife inhaled her own part. “And you’re slightly damp still.”

“The hazards of marrying a Luthor-- perpetually damp.”

Next

[yourescapetofiction]

The Tides Have Turned-Part 20 (Finale)

A/N: This is my old work, The Tides Have Turned. It is a complete story that I am reposting on this blog so the work isn’t lost and can be found for those interested :)

Twenty

Y/n’s POV

I took Nate by the hand and led him through the sliding glass doors, the others giving me a look of hope muddled with fear. We took the steps down to the path that leads to the beach, as we have done so many times before.

We walk in silence, arms swinging by our sides. A sea breeze had kicked up and was blowing our hair around, the smell of salt permeating the air. We trudged through the sand until we came to the where the water was lapping at the shore.

I stared out at the sea for a moment, formulating the words I wanted to say in my head. Nate remained in silence, clearly as uncomfortable as I was.

“Nate…” I begin, but trail off, bracing myself for the loaded conversation to ensue.

“What happened back there?” I say completely exasperated. Nate finally removed his eyes from the ocean to look at me.

“I just had a slip up, that’s all” he said, returning his attention elsewhere. I shook my head at his response. Really? He’s going to be the strong, silent type right now?

“A slip up? Nate you almost died!” I start to raise my voice.

“YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT?!” he whipped around, yelling at me. I was physically taken aback, I have never heard Nate yell like that, and certainly never towards me. He pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing.

“That was the scariest situation I have ever been in, and I’m pissed at myself that I let it get that bad” he yells, becoming worked up.

“Why did you start messing with that shit in the first place? You know you could have come to any of us. And me! You know you can come to me with anything Nate, and yet you didn’t. You took it upon yourself to mess with some fucked up shit. It hurts to know that you didn’t talk to me” I accuse, feeling myself get angry and upset.

“You really believe that I could talk to you, don’t you?” he said coming a little closer. He was steaming.

I crossed my arms and gave him a look.

“I couldn’t fucking talk to you about this stuff, because you’re the reason it happened in the first place!” he yelled. He was becoming so heated I was convinced the whole beach could hear us now. I felt like I had been shot in the chest. His words stung, and I was no longer looking at the Nathan I once knew.

“You don’t get to say that shit to me,” I say in shock. I was doing everything in my power to not cry.

He ran his hands through his hair feverishly, before rubbing his jaw, the stubble from yesterday still evident.

“If anything, it’s that bitch Jessica that messed you up!” I yell shoving his chest. There was no way he was going to blame me for his poor decisions. Anger flickered in his eyes. He began to pace, and was storming away trying to get out of this fight. His temper got the better of him though, because he stopped to turn around and yell some more.

“It’s not about Jessica! Don’t you get it?! It’s YOU! It’s always been you!” he screams, his face was red and flushed.

“You can’t fucking accuse me of being the reason you got hooked on drugs Nate! That’s you, all you” I yell back, a tear slipping from the corner of my eye. I wiped it away harshly, I was not going to let him see me cry.

“It’s not like that,” he said a little quieter, but still angry.

“Then what is it like Nate? Get it all out in the open. Destroy me, I’m an easy target” I say bracing myself for the threatening blow to our friendship.

“I’m in love with you!” he shouts before pacing a few steps away, and then back again. My heart was thumping in my chest, I was trying desperately to register what he had said.

“Fuck, I’m in love with you,” he says again fidgeting with his hair, refusing to look at me.

“It’s always been you. Not Jessica, not the other girls, you” he spoke quickly.

“Then you let me in, let me get close to you. I fucking relished our time, knowing I would never have you. The idea of you and Gilinsky, or you and Sam, kills me. But I need you to be happy, I need to know that.”

I stood completely still, I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. I just let him speak.

“Then you ended things between us, and it fucking broke me” his voice hitched in his throat.

“I tried to replace you with other things, sex, drugs, you name it. But nothing was working, I couldn’t feel anything. I took it too far, I had to drown out this feeling. I couldn’t have you leave me.”

“Don’t leave me,” he sobbed, finally breaking. He sunk to his knees in the sand, his hands covering his face.

Nate was broken, and I was the reason. It sat with me like a bad taste, I had to fix this. I couldn’t bear to see a man break down and cry, let alone someone I loved so deeply. I dropped to me knees beside him, and pulled him into my chest.

He didn’t even resist, just rested his dark head against me and sobbed into his hands. I could feel him quiver with each breath he took, the deep groans escaping his lips. His warm tears rolled down my bare skin, and I held him tighter.

I wrapped my arm around his face, holding his hair tightly. My other hand laid flat against his back, and I just soothed him until I could feel his breathing return to normal.

He lifted his head slightly to look at me, his eyes glassy with tears in them. His pink lips parted slightly, but I wouldn’t let him speak. I kissed his lips with such neediness. I needed him to know that I felt the same, that everything will be okay. I rested my forehead against his as he breathed deeply. He grabbed the back of my head tightly and kissed me again with more passion than I have ever experienced in my life.

Sam’s POV

The Jacks and I stood at the windows, watching the scene unfold before us on the beach. It was like watching a silent movie, and trying to piece together the emotions that went with the action. They had been arguing quite animatedly, but now I was forced to watch them embrace in the most passionate kiss I’ve ever seen. I can’t lie, it hurt.

“What do you think they’re saying?” G said trying to get closer to the glass.

“I don’t know, but it just got more intense” J said referring to the kiss.

I couldn’t bear to watch any longer, so I pulled away from the glass and went upstairs to my room.

Y/n’s POV

“Come on, babe. It’s okay, no more tears” I say helping Nate to stand. I wiped his eyes with my thumb, before cupping his face and kissing him once more.

“I love you” he breathed.

“And I love you,” I return intertwining our fingers together. He pulled me into his side, holding me tightly, as we walked back towards the house. He nuzzled my neck once, before we slid open the doors and lost our moment of intimacy.

“Hey, look who it is” J said rounding the corner from the kitchen.

“Hey J” I smile sweetly.

“You two look happy” G said coming in to join us.

“Yeah, we will be. Together” I smile up at Nate who squeezed me tighter.

“Congrats, man” J said to Nate pulling him in for a tight hug. We all hugged, relieved that the anger and sadness was absolved from our group. Or so we thought.

“You might want to tie up one more loose end,” J said with worry on his face, motioning upstairs to the one person that was missing. Sammy.

I squeezed my eyes shut tightly and sighed.

“Oh, Sammy” I breathed, my heart twisting in pain for an entirely different set of reasons. I loved Sammy, but it was not the same love I had for Nate.

“We should go talk to him” I look up at Nate.

“Yeah, together” he said before leading me up the stairs.

“Sammy, I-” I said opening the door to his room. I looked around to find it barren.

“All of his things are gone” Nate said furrowing his brows. We rifled through his drawers, nothing. No clothing, no phone charger, or shoes.

I looked at Nate in confusion. Something caught my eye on the vanity, a white piece of paper, haphazardly torn from a notebook. I walked closer and recognized the handwriting immediately.

You guys truly look happy together, and I’m so glad that two of the most important people in my life are happy together. Y/n, I’m just sorry that couldn’t be me. I don’t think I can be around that for a while, so I booked myself a ticket back home.

Have a good time with the guys, before you know it, it’ll be like I was never there.

All my love,

Sammy

Tears welled in my eyes as I read the note, Nate reading over my shoulder. I crumpled the paper to my chest before looking at him.

“We have to go after him” I say before running downstairs. Nate grabbed the keys, his wallet, and anything else he would need.

“What’s going on?” J asked eating an apple.

“Sammy went MIA” I said gathering my things. They looked at us in shock.

“We have to get him back!” I shout before running out the front door. Nate drove us to th airport as fast as he humanly could.

We arrived shortly after that, and Nate parked in a temporary spot with fifteen minutes allowance. We didn’t even care about a fine at this point, we had to find our friend. We stormed through the vast airport, desperately searching

“Do you see him?” Nate asked, standing on a chair to get a better look. I spun around in circles, until I saw the tall, slender frame I would recognize anywhere.

“There Nate” I point. He moved to walk towards him but I stopped him with a hand to his chest.

“Let me,” I say and he just nods.

“I’ll be at the car,” he said placing a kiss to my head.

I walked closer to one of my best friends.

“Sammy,” I say and his head snapped up in surprise to see me.

“What are you-” he began to question.

“Don’t leave” I beg, my eyes pleading with him. He shut his eyes tightly.

“I can’t, I don’t think I-” he stuttered.

“Sam, I love you, I do, but leaving is not the answer” I say holding his forearms. He breathed heavily, but let me continue.

“I’m sorry for all the shit I’ve put you through, but our family is nothing without you. Don’t leave us” I say again. “I shouldn’t have started that whole thing with you, it’s not right,” I start to stammer, desperate for the words. He put his hand up to stop me.

“It’s not your fault. I suppose I was quick to jump into something too. I think I was just lonely, and seeing how much you and Nate were in love with each other just got to me” he says.

“Sammy, you know you have a very special place in my heart” I say standing on tiptoes to engulf him in a hug. He squeezed me tightly, and breathed me in.

“The same goes for you baby girl” he said. “Now let’s get out of here, and get this vacation back on the road” he smiles that beautiful Sammy smile that I love. I wrap my hand around his waist and walk him back to the car where Nate was waiting.

Without speaking any words, Nate and Sam bro-hugged it out. Weeks of emotions pouring out. We climbed back in the car and ventured back to the beach house.

“Hello?” I call out. No answer. The guys looked at me in just as much confusion.

“Wait, there,” Nate said pointing through the glass. The figures of seven boys evident on the beach.

We journeyed outside where they were all sitting in the sand, a perfect row. We sat down beside them, Nate and Sammy on either side of me, and they all leaned forward shooting us genuine smiles. It was beginning to become dusk, and we sat furrowed in the sand staring at the watercolor that was the sky.

Colors of all magnitude were vividly swirled through the sky. I breathed in a deep sigh of contentment, resting my head on Nate’s shoulder.

Here we were, back to day one, all of us together on the beach. I was surrounded by my closest friends, and in one of my favorite places on Earth. Only this time, a promising relationship formed as well.

Regarding friendship, the tides have turned.