#also: being so focused on bucky he accidentally lets the door slam shut in the face of 'woman who is pestering steve of the week' 🤣

[hiddlesbummmm]

This story is based off a prompt from an anon - I apologize if it's not exactly what you were expecting, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless 💕

Warnings: SFW Tickle Fic

Words: 2696 Ler Loki X Lee Reader

The Sass Queen

Today was not a good day. You weren’t necessarily in a bad mood, but it also wasn’t the nicest mood either. Typically you were a bright and bubbly person and focused on the positive. But today, all the cards seemed to be stacked against you. Days like this made you extremely sassy and blunt. You didn’t beat around the bush about anything and you honestly didn’t even want to laugh or smile.

It all started when you woke up that morning. It was a bright Saturday morning and you had completed all of your homework assignments, or so you thought. Turns out you had missed one in your syllabus that was due last night. You woke up to a confusing email from your professor asking why a smart hardworking student like you was missing such a simple assignment. Luckily, he was going to let you turn it in late, but it came at the cost of a 10% deduction to your final grade. You worked hard to complete this and turned it in by lunchtime.

The next bad thing to happen was while you were in the kitchen making your lunch, you accidentally caught your favorite necklace on the cupboard handle as you turned around to grab a plate off of the countertop. This necklace was one of the only things you had left from your parents. It had been given to you at the orphanage and it had a great sentimental value to it. You quickly slammed the cupboard door shut and it made a very loud BANG sound that echoed throughout the kitchen.

Just as you did this, Loki walked into the kitchen. He had left some toast in the toaster while he ran to grab his current favorite book from his room and had returned to you slamming cupboards. “ Oof did that cabinet look at your funny or something?” Loki snickered. You really were not ready for his teasing right now. You rolled your eyes and quickly grabbed his toast out of the toaster and took a huge bite out of it. Smirking you said “ Thanks for the toast! It was delicious” and then you left the room leaving Loki looking dumbfounded. He couldn’t believe you just did that to his toast!

A few hours later you and the team met for dinner. Saturday nights the team tried really hard to eat a meal together. Steve called it “ Team bonding”. You usually enjoyed it, but after this morning, you didn’t want to talk to anyone.

Wanda had made the team baked potatoes with any topping imaginable. You liked your potatoes simple, so you only had sour cream, cheese, and chives in yours. Bucky saw this and decided he wanted to mess with you a little.

“ Y/n, why does your potato look so naked? You know it won’t kill you to add more toppings right?” He then reached across the table and sprinkled some pepper onto your potato. You gave him a dirty look and quipped back “ Bucky why does your potato look so gross? It doesn’t take a genius to know that a simple potato is the best potato.” You then grabbed the pepper shaker, took off the lid, and dumped it all over Bucky’s potato. Bucky looked at you in complete shock. You just grinned and continued eating.

“Jeez Loki, have you been teaching Y/n your sass? She’s acting an awful lot like you! “ Thor boasted as he elbowed Loki in the side. Loki was about to say something but you cut him off. “ Oh please Thor, Loki didn’t teach me anything. I’m the sass queen and even he couldn’t beat me at that.” Bucky, Sam, and Steve let out an “ Ooooh Burn!” In unison. No one dared to sass Loki before. But frankly, you didn’t care at this point. Loki just turned his head and gave you a shocked expression. He wasn’t expecting this sass either. “ Well someone is being cheeky today. Say Y/n, wasn’t it you this morning who stole my toast!?” You giggled slightly at this. Seeing Loki flustered was the only thing lightening your mood today. You quickly shot back “ Yes. Now, what are you gonna do cry about it!?”

Loki then quickly excused himself from the table without another word and went off in the direction of his bedroom. No one else said anything except for Bucky who was whispering to Steve about how his poor potato was ruined.

You walked back to your room. You felt sorta felt bad for being too sassy, but you knew the team still loved you. Wanda even sent you a text thanking you for standing up to the boys because they liked to mess with the team and weren’t used to push back.

As you made your way down the hallway you heard something fall out of your pocket and bounce across the floor. You stopped and looked to see what it was. You quickly realized it was your precious necklace. You signed and went to pick it up. Just as you were about to place it in your pocket again, a soft but deep voice echoed behind you.

“ Whatcha got there Y/n? A gift from your secret lover” You rolled your eyes and turned to face Loki. He was back to his usual self again. You decided the best course of action would be to deflect. You had not told anyone on the team why the necklace was so important to you, and you weren’t planning on it anytime soon.

“I see you made your way back from timeout. For a second I thought you were gonna cry because someone stepped on your moment.” You smirked. You had heard Natasha say that and liked it so much you stole it from her. Loki mock gasped and put his hand on his chest. “ Ouch, I’m crushed by this.” Loki then dropped his facade and took a slow mischievous step towards you. “ Why are you being so suspicious Y/N. Just tell me what you have and I will leave you alone.” You didn’t want to back down that easily. You also knew he wouldn’t leave you alone.

“It's nothing Loki. Why are you so interested?” You spat back. Without missing a beat Loki replied, “ If it truly is nothing why are you so committed to hiding it from me”. Shit. He had you there. Loki must have noticed that he shut you up because he laughed and said “ Well so much for being the Sass Queen Y/n. The King will now take back his rightful throne and his first command is you show me what you have in your pocket”.

You laughed at this. “ Damn what an ego you have Loki. And no, I won’t show you so sorry!” And with that, you tried to walk away. Loki reach out and grabbed your wrist pulling you into his chest.

“ Fine, then I will just grab it myself”. He then started to try and pull open your sweatshirt pocket. You tried to fight back but he was holding you tightly. As Loki was wrestling with you, he kept accidentally poking his fingers into your sides and ribs. You tried to contain your giggles but he hit an extremely sensitive spot and you let out a little screech. Loki paused what he was doing and immediately gave you a puzzled look. He quickly caught on to your reaction and grinned evilly.

“ Oh my my my. What do we have here! A bit ticklish love? You blushed when he said this. This day was going to shit. Now you potentially had two secrets that were exposed today. “ Loki let’s just talk about this okay? How about you let me go and then I'll consider showing you what’s in my pocket?” Loki laughed at your attempt to bargain and only squeezed you tighter.

“ How about no” he whispered in your ear. And before you knew it, Loki had thrown you over his shoulder and was carrying you to a nearby couch.

“ You know Y/n, you have been in quite a mood today and I think it’s time to cheer you up hmm?” Loki lightly dropped you onto the sofa and pinned you down. “ Tell me what’s in your pocket, and I’ll go easy on you. If you refuse, I’ll use my new findings against you until you admit I’m the Sass King and you tell me what’s in your pocket”. You thought about this. On one hand, it would feel nice to be cheered up a little bit by Loki. The team was still skeptical of him, but you had never been. From the first time you met, you didn’t understand why people didn’t like him. He was also extremely hot, so bonus there. The downside was you would have to tell him about the necklace and you didn’t want to tell him yet.

So instead of responding to Loki as a normal person would, you stuck your tongue out at him and flipped him off with your right hand. Loki’s grin just got bigger and his eyes flashed with surprise. He expected you to cave.

“ Well alright love, I didn’t realize tickling you to pieces was an option, but you just picked it! Laugh for me!”

Loki wasted no time. He started poking your sides and ribs looking for that spot he accidentally found earlier. You didn’t even try to hide your laughter because it would be no use. “ Hehehe Loki I’ll never tell you anything. “ You tried to sound threatening but the giggles kinda blew that cover. Loki now saw this as a challenge. “ Is this a challenge dear? Because Gods never lose”.

Loki then dove down and blew a few raspberries on your neck. This sudden change made your nerves explode and you screamed! Goodness, it tickled soooo bad. “LOKI NO WAIT IM SORRY” Now you really were scared. At this rate, Loki was gonna either kill you or make you talk. Loki smirked when you started begging. “ Oooh begging are we? That just means I’m close to making you crack. I just have to find the right spot.” He then roamed his eyes over your body looking for another vulnerable spot to attack while you were getting some air. You noticed his eyes shift to your feet and you started giggling in anticipation. Loki saw this of course. “ Oh I think I have found it! This is your final warning, tell me what you have and I shall spare your feet from my wrath.” You started kicking your feet wildly at this point.

You looked at Loki and nodded your head. “ Okay okay okay, I’ll tell you… the thing that is in my pocket is…is.. uh…it’s NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!”

Loki narrowed his eyes at you. “ Wow. Well, I shall be seeing you at your funeral dear.” And with a wink, he had scooted his body down to pin your legs down. He slowly removed your socks making sure to lightly tickle your foot the whole time. You were thrashing and begging now. How could you have been so stupid! You should have just told him. You were soon ripped from your thoughts when you felt a finger lightly scratch the bottom of your foot. Your foot twitched and you immediately tried to pull your foot from Loki’s iron grip. “ Any last words dear?” You caved. You couldn’t stand your feet being tickled.

“ YOU ARE THE SASS KING! AND ITS MY BROKEN NECKLACE IN MY POCKET! Please just let me go!” You blurted out.

Loki turned and gave you a shocked expression. He was definitely not expecting that. “ See was that so hard? It really is a shame you didn’t listen to me earlier. Thank you for sharing, but for now, I just want to hear you laugh darling. Try not to be so cheeky next time. And don’t ever mess with my toast”.

Loki then scribbled his fingers all over your soles and you lost it. You had a deep belly laugh and tears came pouring from your eyes. You tried to shake his hand from your poor feet, but it was no use. Loki had weakened you significantly and all you could do was squeal. Loki was absolutely ruthless. He weaved his fingers between your toes and his smile was so wide after listening to your reaction from that. He probably tickled you into oblivion for ten minutes before he slowed his pace to just lightly caressing your feet. You are still giggling maniacally at this point, but the smile you had was real. You enjoyed this time together.

Loki then got off of you and pulled you into his lap. Your face was a bright red still but your breathing was back to normal. Loki looked deep into your eyes as if he was searching for something. He must have found it because he said “ Y/n, why don’t you tell me more about this precious necklace you have?” Your eyes widened. “How how did you know it was important to me? I’ve never told anyone before” you stammered out not making eye contact with Loki.

He just chuckled slightly. “ Dear one, you wear that necklace every single day. When you are nervous you fiddle with it, and you only take it off before you go on a mission because you don’t want to risk breaking or losing it. I know it’s important to you. I noticed you didn’t have it on at dinner and so it made sense why you were in such a foul mood. I excused myself to check your room to see if you had just forgotten it.” He squeezed you reassuringly. “ Please tell me. I want to help you. And if you don’t, I may have to find those cute toes of yours again.” You squeaked when he went to grab your feet again. “ Okay okay, I’ll tell you for real this time.” You told Loki all about your morning. About how you missed an assignment and then broke your necklace. You explained that you honestly didn’t know much about the necklace, just that it was a gift from your parents before they were killed and the lady at the orphanage gave it to you. It was the last thing you had from them and you somehow managed to break it. You broke into tears at this point. Loki rubbed your back and told you to let it all out.

Once your sniffles had simmered down Loki spoke to you in a soft voice. “ Y/n thank you for sharing that with me. I’m sorry that you felt the need to keep that hidden. Nobody here would have made fun of you and it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” You nodded and placed your head on his shoulder. “ Do you mind if I take a look at it? I want to see what it looks like up close.” You nodded again and fished it out of your pocket. You handed it to Loki and he held it delicately in his hand. Suddenly there was a burst of green light that exploded from his palm. Once it had disappeared, you realized your necklace was no longer broken. Loki had used his magic to fix it. “ Oh my gosh Loki no way! Thank you thank you thank you!” You hugged him hard and long.

Afterward, you went to stand up to get some water. Loki stopped you and said, “ You know, I wouldn’t mind if you were my sass queen. All kings need to have a strong woman fighting beside them”. You grinned widely at this proposal. “ I’ll think about it. I’m not sure I want to be a queen next to someone who eats boring toast for breakfast” you (obviously) sassed back.

Loki’s eyes lit up as you started another challenge. You raced down the hallway running from the God, but before you knew it you were lost in bubbly giggly laughter.

[pantstomatch]

untitled winterhawk mess for lissa!

SO HERE’S THE THING. It’s creeping up on midnight (my time) and I promised @lissadiane I would write her whatever she wanted for her birthday (today) because she’s amazing and, listen, I’ve been extremely dependent on her, she’s all I’ve ever wanted in a writing buddy and just, like, A FRIEND, and it doesn’t matter that we live so far apart, I feel like I get to see her every single day. She is literally the only reason I ever write and share anything. So anyway, BECAUSE IT IS HER BIRTHDAY, and because she asked me to write Winterhawk on SGA, I have... done this.  I have no actual idea how to write anyone in the marvel universe, so this is just... you know... hopefully not terrible. (the second half is rushed for time, shhhhh, just pretend this is balanced and maybe someday it’ll be magically fixed). HAPPY BIRTHDAY LISSA!! I HOPE YOU HAD AN AMAZING DAY DESPITE THE CAR THING.

The only reason Bucky tolerates diplomatic missions is because Steve's simultaneously the best at them and the worst. It's both a Steve thing and a Stark thing. Steve's got a sixty percent probability of becoming indignant on someone's behalf, and Stark's got a much higher likelihood of blowing things up. And that's only if he hasn't already accidentally insulted someone important on purpose. When things go well, they go great—one planet has a god damn statue of Steve, which Bucky finds hilarious and Steve hates with passion—which is the only reason they're still getting sent on these milk runs.

Bucky's got his palm along the outside of his P-90, pointed at the ground as he stands fifteen paces behind Steve, Stark, and Wilson.

The planet's delegation consists of two old pale guys in robes—par for the course—and a haggard nutbar that Bucky's pretty sure they're trying to sell as a wizard.

He notes Wilson watching all their hands, and scans the perimeter for threats.

The settlement is mostly a tent city built on the ruins of a more prosperous time. Half-crumbled brick and mortar, dull canvas tarps staked down over top.

For all the technology of the Ancients, the Pegasus Galaxy has basically been beaten back into the dark ages. He fucking hates the Wraith.

He's got his eyes on the sparse woods to their left when he hears a soft scraping sound. He barely tenses, forces a natural sweep of the tree line, back over the other three members of his team, and then lazily focuses on a narrow, dirt alley that snakes down behind a line of crumbling buildings. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches a thick stone slowly lift and shift. Grubby fingers appear, palms wrapped in worn cloth, gripping the edge.

Bucky forces himself to keep still, stance open.

A tuft of matted, brown-blonde hair pokes up, Bucky catches a fast look of blue eyes, busted nose and a split lip.

Graceful and quick, the kid—youngish, slim, rag-covered, barefoot—gracefully climbs out of the hole, and then promptly trips over his own feet. He catches himself on nothing, arms spread out with an almost silent whoosh of air.

Bucky spots what looks like a quiver of arrows on his back and a motherfucking bow, and rolls onto the balls of his feet, wondering if this is some kind of ambush. He slips his fingers down to lightly cover the trigger of his gun.

The kid just crouches down to heft the stone cover back over the hole, though, and when he lifts his head again, their eyes catch.

Panic moves fast over the kid's face before disappearing into a cocky quirk of lips. He winks at Bucky, lifts his finger in a 'keep quiet' gesture, and then flees around the turn of a tent before Bucky can even snap his mouth shut.

Huh.

"Buck?"

Bucky blinks once and says, "Yeah, Stevie," without looking away from the alley.

"Everything okay?"

A hand lands on his arm, the one attached to the hand still caressing his P-90, and Bucky looks up to see Steve's face schooled into Earnest Concern.

"Peachy," Bucky says. "Hey," he gestures to the hole the goddamn street urchin just popped out of, "where do you think those stone covers lead to?"

Steve shrugs. "Old sewer? Sophisticated Ancient underground bunker? Weapons store?"

Bucky feels his lips twist into a frown. Steve's eyes are twinkling.

"I know you're joking, Rogers," Stark says, swanning over, "but just because there hasn't been another Genii infestation, doesn't mean there won't be."

"I think calling them an infestation is offensive," Steve says.

"Are we done here?" Bucky asks. His skin is crawling. They're being watched.

"Nope." Stark claps Bucky on the arm and Bucky growls at him.

Stark tells him to, "Chill out, tiger," because he's a raging asshole, and the only reason Bucky doesn't punch him in the face is because Steve ducks his head to hide a smile.

Jesus.

Wilson moseys over, thumbs looped into his belt and gun draped across his back, even though he must notice Bucky's still on high fucking alert. "I don't know about you guys," he says, "but I can't wait to get off this weird-ass planet. I am not letting that grand high poopah dude read my chakra or whatever the hell he was twitching about."

Stark's face is practically plastered to a tablet but he waves a hand and says, "I believe the appropriate term, Wilson, is probe."

Over Steve's shoulder, Bucky sees the kid again, this time rapidly skirting the edge of the woods. He rolls his lips and doesn’t say anything and hopes it isn't a mistake.

*

Two days later, Bucky's cursing at the general motherfucking shittyness of their luck with his hands tied behind his back.

The 'jail' is one of the few buildings mostly still standing; dim light filters in from the single high window, and also weakly beams through the gaps in the stone walls. A solid push would probably take them down, Bucky's got enough rage to really put his back into it, but he'd prefer to have his hands free.

Fucking diplomats.

"How's it going, Stark?" Bucky asks through gritted teeth. He's hot, he's sweaty, his hair's all over his face and all he can do is scrape at the ends with his shoulder.

The only good thing is that Steve and Wilson weren't served the same fate. Steve's probably still in the 'talking them around' stage of negotiations, where he tries to explain that Stark didn't really mean it, and Bucky wasn't trying to assassinate anyone by accident, and it's sweet the way Steve always alwaysthinks that's going to work, even when it never does.

"It's going," Stark says absently. "Can't you bludgeon your way free with your robo-arm?"

"It's off," Bucky says.

At that, Stark lifts his head and an eyebrow, gaze slipping down the metal of his arm twisted behind his back.

"No," Bucky says, manfully resisting rolling his eyes. "They fucking turned it off. Nutbar wizard has the ATA gene."

"You mean old Turkey Face? Yeah, that guy's a treat," Stark says, and then his arms loosen and drop with a sigh and tiny robot with a saw climbs up over his shoulder to say hi.

Just as the little gizmo starts in on the ropes binding Bucky, the door slams open and street urchin kid gets tossed in with a yelp, and a shouted, "Sure! Be that way! See if he doesn't eat you, now!"

A guard kicks him in the leg, but he bounces up almost immediately and clings to the small slotted hole in the wood. He says, "Kidding! I'm kidding, please don't hurt him," and curses under his breath.

"Hello," Stark says, like he's real interested.

The kid's tall, but probably not as tall as he will be. He swings his arms when he turns and then leans up against the door, watching them warily. His mouth quirks up in a smile, though, and he says, "Hi. What are you in for?"

"Treason, apparently," Stark says dryly. "And failure to acknowledge the royal 'we.'"

Street urchin nods a lot, says, "Sure, sure," and paces to the small window and back to the door again. His lip's crusted over and his busted nose has radiated out into a black eye.

The tiny robot finishes Bucky's ties and he shakes out his hand in relief while the street urchin keeps one eye on him, and the other on the door. He's backed himself into a corner, arms crossed.

Bucky silently moves toward Stark and shifts so he can still see the kid.

Stark says, "Did you forget how to use your words, Barnes?" but reaches out for the latch underneath his arm, the Ancient tech lighting up in response to his own ATA gene.

Bucky doesn’t have one, the synthetic never stuck, and he's never considered it a liability before.

Stark, frowning, says, "We need to get you better non-Ancient tech attached to this thing. Give me a week after we get back. You can be a little lopsided in between missions."

"Gee, thanks," Bucky says.

His arm powers up with a whirl and a few clicks of the plates shifting. He's highly aware of the kid gawking at him as he lifts his arm and folds his fingers into a fist.

Stark waves him forward and says, "After you."

Bucky grins at him, feral around the edges, and punches straight through the wall.

Shouting from the guards kicks up as soon as they crawl through the rubble.

The kid says, "What the fuck was that?" blue eyes big.

Bucky only feels a little guilty when the awe and hesitation are what get the kid caught.

"Aw, man, no," he hears faintly as he takes off down the dirt path, conscious of Stark keeping pace beside him, because that's his job. Not saving some raggedy teenager who doesn't even have enough sense to wear shoes.

He's gonna see those big blue eyes in his nightmares. Jesus Christ.

He slows to a jog and then skids to a stop.

This sucks.

Stark says, "Hustle up, Barnes," and Bucky shakes his head.

"I'm going back."

"You want me to tell Rogers I lost his best friend to a sad-eyed alien that looks like a half-grown man-child?"

"Steve would go back," Bucky says, because it's true. Mostly true. He's pretty sure if it were between Bucky and a stranger, Steve would unhesitatingly go for him.

But Bucky's always been the only exception that feeds his martyr complex, so whatever.

Stark sighs like Bucky's a heavy burden. He says, "You don't have any weapons."

Bucky wiggles his metal fingers.

Stark pinches the bridge of his nose and says, "Take Tiny with you."

*

Tiny shoots tiny missiles. Tiny is Bucky's new best friend. Stark is never getting Tiny back.

Bucky goes for mass chaos over finesse, and has just enough time to grab the kid by the scruff of his neck and haul him backward before a wall falls on two of the three guards that were holding him down.

The shouts and explosions have brought out half the town and most of the diplomatic delegation, and Bucky sees Steve book it sideways in all the confusion, Wilson bringing up his rear.

This mission is officially fubar, unsalvageable, and Bucky just wants to get back to his tiny bunk in his tiny room with his own private tiny bath. Halfway down the street, he lets the kid go and hopes he just keeps running. It's not his problem anymore.

The Stargate is in an open field almost two clicks out of town. Bucky and Steve are the only ones not panting by the time they reach the dial.

"You came through the ring," the kid says, staring up at it with his mouth hanging open. "You came through the ring."

"Yep," Stark says, rapidly dialing out, sending his ID code through as it whooshes open. "What's your name, kid?"

"Clint." He rubs a hand over his mouth, staring at the rippling portal like he's never seen it open before.

"You going to be okay, son?" Steve says. He drops a meaty palm on join of his neck, squeezing once and then letting go.

"Oh yeah, sure," Clint nods, "but, uh," he drags his gaze away from the 'gate and up at Steve, "this planet is really small, and they were gonna cut my hand off, so, you know, anyway you can see yourselves letting me tag along?"

Steve's face goes dark. "What." Oh no.

"And Lucky and me don't take up much room, swear, except for the fact that Lucky actually does, but, uh—what?" Clint seems to finally notice how Steve's gone expressionless.

Stark whistles through his teeth and says, "Are we in Aladdin?" and Wilson snorts a laugh even though he says, "Not funny, man."

Steve says, "They're going to what?"

"Uh." Clint darts his gaze from Bucky to Steve and back again, like Bucky can somehow stop this clusterfuck of a situation.

Luckily, Bucky speaks fluent Steve. He hitches a shoulder and says, "He means you're coming with us."

"Oh, but. I mean, that's great," Clint says, but he doesn't look like he thinks that's great. He looks wary. He looks like a kid who was hoping for the best but clearly expecting the worst, and doesn't trust an inch of it—or them. "Don't you want to know why?"

"It doesn't matter why," Steve says—it totally matters why, Bucky thinks darkly, but keeps his mouth shut—and claps Clint on the shoulder, urging him forward.

Clint staggers and stops, digging his bare heels into the dirt, and blurts out, "I was stealing food."

Steve's eyes go soft. "That's okay, Clint."

"No, but. I was stealing food for him." He jerks his chin to something behind them, and Bucky whirls around to see….

It looks like how a dog would look like, if no one had ever seen a dog. If someone had just said describe a dog to me, and then drew it with their eyes closed.  It's… an approximation of a dog. Floppy ears, lolling tongue, tail that wags like a flag. Big, four-footed, furry all over, but with too many teeth for its mouth and eyes too wide-set on its pointed skull.

It is, quite frankly, disturbing as hell to someone who emphatically knows what a dog should and should not look like.

Clint's shoulders slump. They're ridiculously sharp under his threadbare shirt, and he's woefully underfed. This beast looks sort of fat.

"It's okay," Clint says.  He's sad. Hell, Bucky's sad. But, like, that thing can't come to Atlantis. It might eat everyone.

Which is why he's actually too stunned to protest when Steve says with deliberate, forceful calm that Bucky knows is absolute bullshit, "He can come too."

Wilson squawks. He says, "Steve."

Bucky tries to murder Steve with a glare, but Steve doesn't take an order he doesn't believe in, and doesn't offer anything he isn't prepared to back up with his whole soul. It's one of the things Bucky both loves and hates about him.

"Sheppard's gonna have a field day," Stark says gleefully, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "C'mon, blue eyes, the first step's a doozy."

*

Clint throws up all over the 'gate room to absolutely no one's surprise.

Also to no one's surprise, a bunch of guns get immediately pointed in the not-dog's direction until it bounds over and licks Bucky in the back of the neck. Christ.

"I have to go debrief," Steve says. "Buck, can you take Clint and, uh…"

"Lucky," Clint says, swiping at his mouth while gazing narrowed-eyed around them. Bucky doesn’t want to say he's casing the place, but he's a self-admitted thief.

"Can you take Clint and Lucky down to medical?" Steve gives him puppy eyes behind Clint's back, which is the only reason Bucky says yes.

Stark says, "I'll be in my lab." He jabs a finger at Bucky. "Barnes, arm. Tomorrow or Wednesday, whenever you're feeling it."

Bucky's tempted to not feel it at all, but on the other hand it's his arm, and he'd like it to work better.

Wilson mutters something about taking a, "Goddamn bubble bath."

Steve lifts his fingers like a boy scout but says, "Two hours. Full reports or I'll make you go talk to Sheppard. He'll hate it just as much as you will."

Clint follows Bucky out of the 'gate room, and Lucky follows Clint until they're stopped by an over-excited scientist from the xenobiologist lab. Bucky has no idea what her name is, but she's really insistent on quarantine and scans and people not accidentally dying, so he lets them herd Lucky down a split in the hallway.

Clint says, "What are they—" before cutting himself off with a sharp clack of teeth.

"He's going to the animal med bay," Bucky says. "We're going to the people-shaped one." Can't say human, he guesses, but Bucky actually knows fuck-all about the genetics of the Pegasus Galaxy. Supposedly they were all cut from the same Ancient cloth, so who the fuck knows.

In the infirmary, Dr. Biro tuts over Clint's clothes, his dirty hands, his crud-encrusted feet, and shoves a pair of scrubs in his hands before flipping the curtain around him closed.

She says, "Well," to Bucky with her hands on her hips.

"I guess… call Captain Rogers when he's done?" Bucky says.

Her eyebrows deepen into a V. "You don't want to wait."

Did he want to? Kind of. He's just not sure he should. He didn't make the decision to bring Clint back to Atlantis. He's definitely not his responsibility. At all.

Bucky sits down on the edge of an empty bed with a sigh. He needs a shower, and he needs to write up his report, and apparently he needs to make sure a too-thin alien street urchin isn’t going to die on them, too.

A half hour later, Bucky's half asleep sitting up. But Clint's got a mostly clean bill of health—dehydrated, half-starved, lacking nutrients, but in great spirits!—and is eighty percent dirt-free. He needs a shower, but his nose is taped, a butterfly bandage on his lip that definitely won't last, and the scrubs show-off his lean build and the bruises on the back of his arms, like fingerprints. He looks older and taller, even though Biro says, "He's eighteen or nineteen, he can't remember, and age in years is an Earth construct I still haven't figured out how to apply to multiple planets outside our solar system."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Clint wiggles his toes in the fuzzy socks Biro had given him. He grins, "Hey, look."

"Real fancy, Clint," Bucky says. He quirks an eyebrow at Biro. "So he's good?"

"For certain definitions of good, sure," Biro says. "I want him hooked up to a IV for an hour and then someone can come collect him."

"What's an IV?" Clint asks, watching curiously as Biro takes hold of his arm and starts tapping along the veins.

Bucky wants no parts of that. He nods at Biro, says, "Good luck," and then slips out the door.

*

Bucky has a routine in between off-world missions. Breakfast at 530AM, followed by a two hour sparring session, followed by a second breakfast of whatever fruit they have on hand, preferably sitting on the highest balcony he has access to.

After that, it's a toss-up between a nap and a run around the serpentine corridors on third floor. Lunch, usually with Steve, and then he reports for duty wherever he's being rotated in for the day—control desk, lab security, clearing out and constructions. He winds up the time before dinner swimming laps off the southeast pier, if it isn't crowded. Very infrequently, he's bullied into team movie nights by Wilson. It's nice. Structured, but not too structured.

His first job after the bullshit mission where they found Clint is to… find Clint.

"What do you mean he's gone?" Bucky asks Steve, falling in step next to him as they walk down the corridors toward the living quarters. "Can't you just have Atlantis pinpoint his vitals?"

Steve's mouth tightens. "Apparently his biometrics haven't been entered into her systems yet. No one's seen him since I dropped him off after medical."

Bucky stops. "That was two days ago, Steve."

"Yeah, I know." Steve swings on him, visibly irritated. "But Corporal Jamison didn't see him leave his room, and when he finally went in to check—"

"Finally?" Jesus, did they not think Clint was eating? Or his... not-dog thing?

"Yeah." Steve looks real pissed about that, and it's only slightly mollifying. And then he looks hangdog and guilty, because of course Clint's their—Steve's—responsibility, and the thing Steve's gonna focus on most is that Clint hasn't been coddled enough to his satisfaction, and not the fact that he's a unknown variable in what is, technically, a hybrid civilian-military war zone.

Frankly, Bucky's more worried about that too. Not that he'd eversay anything about that out loud.

Steve says, "When he finally went in to check, there was zero signs of Clint anywhere. So that's where we're going to check first."

"The place where he isn’t," Bucky says, but follows Steve when he starts moving again anyhow.

"The place Clint somehow got out of without using the door."

Clint's assigned room is small, located on a less used corridor in the living section. It's sparsely furnished. There's a narrow bed, and round table with two chairs, and a postage stamp bathroom. The bed doesn't even look slept in. There's a pair of boots shoved into a corner. A folded pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt on a chair.

Bucky idly picks up the gray Air Force shirt and says, "So he's in sock-feet and the scrubs Biro gave him," hopefully, "and no one has fucking seen this guy for two days?"

One of the chairs is at a weird angle, spun around from the table and halfway into the cramped 'living space' that boasts a skinny tower bookshelf.

Steve places his hands on his hips and goes, "Huh."

Bucky skims fingers over a light dusting of debris on the shelf and then glances up at a roughly 12x24 vent in the ceiling.  "D'you think his collarbones unhinge like a cat's?"

Steve says, "Well. Shit."

*

Clint could basically be anywhere on Atlantis. The main problem, though, as Bucky sees it, is that so could Lucky.

"So how can he hide a hundred and fifty pound… dog," Bucky generously allows, "in our recycled air system?”

The duct work threads all over the city, spilling out into every room, and god knows he's probably sleeping in there too.

Steve says, "Good question," and radios Colonel Sheppard, who lets out the longest, loudest sigh Bucky has ever heard in his life.

Steve and Bucky are unsuccessful in their mission that day, because a) the damn not-dog is still quarantined in the xenobiology lab, and b) Bucky almost punches Colonel Jamison in the face when he says he told Clint no when he asked for him.

"Now we know why he bolted," Steve says, looking like he wants to punch Jamison, too, "and we know where he was going. But we don't know why he didn't get there."

"Well," Dr. Simmons pushes her glasses up her nose. "The xeno labs are routed through a different ventilation system, since everyone was complaining about the smell."

Lucky is licking at the glass partition, staring longingly at Bucky, and he still looks like half a horror. An incomplete sketch. What comes for you in the dark and lives under your bed. Christ.

"So he's lost," Bucky says, which is why they had to end up gathering all two hundred and fifty three inhabitants of Atlantis in the 'gate room and commissary and then run a full scale vitals search on the rest of the compound.

No one is happy about it, even when Sheppard says everyone can get an extra jello.

Lost for two fucking days stuck in the vents without anyone knowing, and, god, Bucky just really hopes he got to sneak out to go to the bathroom.

An hour in, Bucky's lounging along the wall of the commissary, dreaming about all the ways he's gonna take Jamison apart in the gym, when Stark shouts, "Got 'em. Unless another bird got stuck in the tower again." He looks up at Steve. "The spire overlooking the west end."

Bucky swears under his breath. He's out on his Second Breakfast balcony. "Let me go," he says without really meaning to.

Steve looks as surprised as he feels. "You sure?"

Bucky nods. "Hold everyone from another twenty minutes, just in case he disappears."

"I'll let you know if he moves," Stark says, tapping at the tablet. He flicks his fingers over the screen and then spins it to show Bucky. "The transporter at the end of the hall only goes up to three, but it'll still be faster than going all the way around to the 'gate room. You might want to take the stairs the rest of the way."

If he thought he had the time for it, he'd stop and bring Lucky, too. He's only a little relieved that he doesn't.

He doesn't bother with stealth. He figures if Clint hasn't moved in the ten minutes it's taken Bucky to advance on his position, making noise isn't going to make a difference. When the door whooshes open, the high winds hit Bucky like a smack in the face. A storm must be heading in.

Clint's sitting on the ground with his legs dangling out under the railing.

Bucky drops down next to him and nudges him back a little, just for his own peace of mind. Clint doesn't react other than shifting further away, bringing his legs up to hug his knees.

"So," Bucky says after a long, quiet moment, "Jamison refused to bring you your dog and you go off and sulk, making the entire fucking city of Atlantis waste hours searching for you."

Clint glares at him. "What." He scoffs. "If I asked you, you woulda just let me have him?"

Bucky opens his mouth to say yeah, except who the fuck knows what he would have done. He would have at least asked the xenobologists if he was safe.

Clint snorts like a punk.

Bucky wants to wring his skinny neck and also, inexplicably, make him eat an entire plate of mashed potatoes.

He says, "Have you eaten anything?"

Petulance melts into a smirk. He says, "Maybe," which Bucky is taking for yes, and also the high probability that he’s been breaking into their stores.

Bucky sighs. This is going to be a full time fucking job. "Come back to your room," he says, "and I'll see what I can do about Lucky."

*

Clint makes Bucky feel old.

"You're not old," Steve says, determinedly sawing into his too-dense waffles. "We're not even thirty yet."

"Steve," Bucky says seriously, reaching across the table to cover his hand with his. "Steve, you're thirty-two."

Steve's mouth drops open, then snaps closed again. "No, I'm…. am I?"

"Stark's forty-one."

"No," Steve says, scandalized.

Clint befriended Romanov five days after he stopped hiding in the vents and they haven't stopped running rings around every single other person in the city since.

Clint can shoot an arrow at a bullseye two hundred feet away with his eyes closed.

He's bendy. He does handstands and walks across tables. He swings up into the rafters of the ‘gate room because using stairs takes too long.

Bucky's knees crack when he crouches down to pick up a dropped fork.

He's in shape, he's in great shape, and he's more active now than he ever was on base back on earth, but he also wears a brace on his left knee, and has to use reading glasses and if he were at home he has a sneaking, depressing suspicion that he'd have trouble driving at night.

Clint makes him feel old, and the only fucking reason that it matters at all is because he's definitely, maybe gotten a little crush.

It's been two months and Clint's filled out considerably and apparently has the arm strength to climb up the outside of Atlantis all the way up the second breakfast balcony—on a dare, because he's reckless and young—and it's fucking with Bucky's head.

Competency is hot. The fact that Clint trips over Lucky whenever he goes to open his room door and routinely falls off chairs like it's his job—he tilts them back way too far and can't seem to help himself—sadly doesn't detract from this at all.

Bucky wishes it did. In fact, it should.  There's nothing sexy about a lap full of tough chicken, gravy and rehydrated rice, and yet…

So Bucky feels beat and old, even though he's twenty-nine and lied like a rug to Steve about it—Steve's hilariously susceptible at 5:30 AM—and Clint’s probably a good ten years younger than him and also an alien.

It's never going to work.

*

Romanov has been on permanent team rotation ever since she justifiably shot Rumlow and sent him hurling into space out the back of a puddlejumper.  She subs for people stuck in the infirmary or if teams need an extra assassin on hand.

She teaches Clint how to fight dirty and gives him a gun and not even Sheppard has the balls to complain about it.

Bucky turns down every single request to spar with him because he's not a masochist, but he still manages to claim the seat next to him on the movie nights Wilson guilts him into going to.

He knocks their shoulders together and watches Clint's eyes light up when he says, "Hey."

Clint sits like an acrobat, knees and elbows in weird places, and Bucky feels all the points that press against him like fire.

They're watching Jaws and Clint's breath is fast, but Bucky can't tell if that's a Clint thing or a something is wrong thing, and he nudges his fist into the side of Clint's thigh.

"Okay?"

Clint turns to look at him, pupils blown in the half-light. "What?" he asks with a lick of his lips.

"Um." Bucky wants to reach out and curl a hand up under the hinge of his jaw. Without the tape and bruises and swelling, he's got smooth cheeks and a slightly crooked nose. "Are you okay?"

Clint's grin blooms across his mouth in honest, open affection and Bucky feels like he's been donkey kicked in the chest.

Bucky scrambles to his feet and ignores half the room staring at him like he’s lost his mind and books it out of there.

*

The next time Bucky sees Clint, he’s sitting on a table in Stark’s lab, swinging his feet and humming what sounds like Chariots of Fire.

“Bucky!”

Bucky winces at the volume, and Stark puts a hand on Clint’s knee to get his attention and mimes dialing it down.

Clint points at Stark and says, “Tony’s fixing my ears.”

“I didn’t know anything was wrong with ‘em,” Bucky says, watching the way Clint carefully watches his lips.

“He’s got truly horrendous tech in them that someone cobbled together out of what looks like twigs and bubble gum,” Stark says.

Bucky peers over his shoulder. It looks like regular wires and doodads to him, but he knows fuck all about that kind of stuff.  “Those were in his ears?”

Tony hmms absently, but then he pins Bucky down with a look and says, “I haven’t forgotten about your arm either. Who made that crap, anyway? Hammer? Ancient tech is good, but mine is better.”

Clint stares curiously at his arm, but doesn’t say anything.

Bucky was down here for a reason, but now he can’t remember why.  He’s losing it, mind and body. This is the worst.

Suddenly Clint waves his hands and says, “Oh! Guess what?”

“Uh… what?” He swears he’s usually more suave than this. He used to have game. He used to charm the pants off of ladies and men alike. His mouth feels too big.

“I’m 22 earth years,” Clint says proudly. “Tony figured it out.”

“Clint,” Bucky says, throat dry. “You weren’t even sure how many of your years you were.”

Clint shrugs. “Eh.”

Bucky takes a deep breath. “Okay, so…”

“Barnes,” Stark says, clacking what looks like a pair of tweezers together, “take the kid to lunch and a slow bone before I choke and throw up on all this tension.”

Bucky freezes. “Did you just. Did you just say slow bone?”

“What’s a… slow bone?” Clint says, head cocked, and this is when Bucky realizes that Stark hadn’t been facing Clint but Bucky is, and now he has to kill himself.

Stark arches an eyebrow at him. “That is not my fault.”

Bucky ignores him and rolls his shoulders and bites out, “Lunch.” He jerks his head toward the door and mans up. “Coming?”

*

There is a single glorious planet in the Pegasus Galaxy that boasts no less than fifteen different kinds of dinosaurs, and the fact that they have to keep going back to it to get a certain herb that both the botanists and medical doctors go gaga over is a source of unending joy to Bucky.

He fucking loves Dinosaur Planet.

He keeps trying to convince Steve to let him bring back an egg.

He knows the only reason Steve volunteers their team for these missions is because of Bucky. Stark usually insists on sitting them out, which is why they have Romanov with them this time instead. He has absolutely no idea what military organization she’s a part of, but she’s definitely not a scientist. No one’s willing to fuck with her after the Rumlow situation.

She’s got a cold, calm eye that gives Bucky the willies, but he doesn’t have a problem with her. They don’t have problems with each other.  

Except, apparently, for right now.

“Uh.”

Romanov has her arms crossed. “Well?”

“You realize you’re ruining Dinosaur Planet for me, right?” Bucky could be getting run down by a T-Rex right now.

“Answer the question, Barnes.”

Bucky could have lived his whole life happily never having heard Romanov ask him if he was interested in boning Clint, Jesus, and he knows this entire clusterfuck is Stark’s fault.

“What answer is the one least likely to get me stabbed?” He’s not above lying to Romanov if he has to.

Luckily or unluckily, Romanov seems to take that as whatever she actually wanted to hear, so she nods smartly and then gestures over his shoulder with a lazy, “Incoming,” and that is how they spend the rest of the day dodging pterodactyls.

Bucky can’t wait to come back.

*

Clint doesn’t hesitate. Whether it’s shooting an arrow, sparring, eating, swimming, talking—Clint just goes for it, all in, even if he ends up making a fool of himself.

Bucky admires that.

He’s also extremely tired, hot off the Dinosaur Planet, and three minutes ago he was dead to the world face down on his bunk.

He scrubs a hand over his face until the blurry shape in his doorway in front of him resolves into Clint’s grinning face. “Huh?” He’s almost entirely sure it’s the middle of the night, but the city does weird things to his circadian rhythm.

“Sam told me what bone means.”

All Bucky’s body parts wake up and freeze at once. “I’m going to murder him.”

Clint says, “I hope it can wait,” and then lunges forward and kisses him. Kind of. It’s aggressive enough that Bucky thinks maybe it’s his first kiss, which is goddamn charming and almost irresistible. He’s just so enthusiastic.

Bucky slides his hand up to cup Clint’s cheek, rests his metal one on the small of his back, settling him into slowing down. He eases out of the kiss with, “It’s the middle of the night, Clint, and Stark’s probably watching us through his peephole.”

Clint’s mouth is red and his eyes are wide. “Oh,” he says, but looks out of it enough that Bucky’s ninety percent certain he hasn’t understood a word Bucky’s said.

Bucky says, “Go to bed, Clint.” His legs hurt from running from dinosaurs all day and he needs at least another four hours of sleep before figuring out how to handle… this.

“Right,” Clint says, but doesn’t move.

Bucky reaches out and squeezes his hand. “G’night,” he says, and the steps back and slides the door closed behind him.

*

The only thing that Clint loves more than Lucky is pizza, and the only thing Lucky loves more than Clint is also pizza, so Bucky sweet talks Corporal Lovett into making him a pie in exchange for three chocolate bars he’d been saving. It’s an approximation of an earth pizza, and it’s only 9 in the morning, but he’s due for second breakfast anyway.

Bucky rings the bell on Clint’s quarters and tries not to be skeeved out by the echoing wooffrom Lucky, like he swallowed an actual dog and that dog is making that sound from the bottom of his throat. Lucky’s cool. Bucky gets along great with Lucky if he doesn’t think too hard about him.

Clint’s normally open face is wary when he sees him. He’s wearing shorts and an old t-shirt that has ‘Barnes’ across the right breast that Bucky’s been missing for over a month. He’s still wearing the fuzzy, slouchy socks from that first day in medical.

Bucky says, “Pizza?” holding up the tray, and Clint’s grin finally reaches his eyes.

Clint takes the pizza with a too-subdued, “Uh, thanks?” and Bucky swoops in oh so suavely and slides a hand onto the nape of his neck, tugging him into a swift kiss.

If they’re doing this, Bucky’s gonna do this right—they’re gonna date first, second breakfast, lunch, dinner—and then they’re gonna bone.

[imagine-buckycap]

I think you have my Sketchbook?- Peter Parker X Reader

Prompt: You and Peter are lab partners and he accidentally takes your sketchbook on his way out of class. You follow him around all day trying to recover your notebook full of sketches, most of which are of him. But he thinks you are stalking him when in reality you just want your sketchbook back.

Word count: 2551

Warnings: None. lots of fluff in fact (:

A/N: Sorry this is another Peter imagine, but you guys seemed to really like the last one, so I wrote another one. I promise the next imagine I post will be a Bucky imagine. Hope you enjoy the fluffball that is Peter Parker in this imagine.

Lab days in your Chemistry class were by far the most interesting. You loved mixing chemicals in just the right order and amount to produce the desired reaction. And it also helped that your lab partner was the highly intelligent and strikingly beautiful Peter Parker. All of this year you two had been doing labs together, and everyone knew you guys made the perfect team. Every reaction you two created came out exactly like the teachers sample, if not better. And today was no different. You sat on the stool at the table, measuring a clear liquid into a graduated cylinder, Peter sat beside you, setting a small beaker on a hot plate so the contents inside could boil. You read over the lab directions once more, confirming you had measured everything correctly and done it in the right order.

“Do you wanna add the phosphorus to the mixture, or do you want me to do it?” Peter asked as you watched the contents of the beaker on the hot plate begin to boil, signalling to you it was time to create the final reaction. You looked over at him, his big brown eyes peered back at you from behind the thick lab goggles strapped to his head for safety. Your heart thudded in your chest, butterflies erupted in your stomach.

“You go ahead, I’ll finish up the lab report,” you offered, opening your notebook and scribbling down the information from the lab so you would have it later tonight when you were writing up the report.

“Ok, let me know if you need me to type anything up tonight for the report,” he whispered as he focused on pouring the right amount of phosphorus into the beaker. The contents of the beaker suddenly turned yellow, then fizzed and began pouring out the top of the container, flooding over the table, and anything you and Peter were too slow to grab; which included a few pencils, a cheap calculator and the directions sheet for the lab.

“Well done Ms. [Y/L/N] and Mr. Parker,” your teacher commented as he strode by, the entire class looked at you and the yellow muck that was still continuing to consume your lab table. You and Peter smiled at each other then your teacher, offering him quiet thank yous.

“Alright everyone, you should begin cleaning up, the bell rings in ten minutes. I want all glassware cleaned and stored properly. Any station that is not cleaned properly will receive detention. These chemicals and materials are not to be fooled around with,” your teacher directed. You toned him out, you and Peter knew how to clean this up in your sleep. You headed to the back of the classroom to find the paper towels and surface cleaner to wipe up the chemicals.

“Don’t forget gloves, that product can burn your skin,” Peter reminded you, handing you a pair of beige plastic gloves.

“Thanks Pete,” you thanked, pulling the gloves on and wiping down the surface of the lab table. Meanwhile Peter took the glassware to the back of the class to rinse it in the sink.

After the table was cleared, you returned your goggles to the bin (Commenting on the obnoxious red lines they had streaked across your forehead and cheeks that would probably be there until lunch) and began packing your backpacks. You shoveled your notebooks and pencil case into the bag just as the bell rang.

“Goodbye Peter, see you tomorrow. Good work today,” you commented as you headed out the door, deciding which was the best way to head to your next class.

“Bye [Y/n], see you tomorrow,” Peter called back as you exited the classroom. You decided to take the short way, since the passing period wasn’t all that long and you didn’t feel like getting another tardy. You arrived at study hall just in time to call out a rushed “here” when the teacher called roll. You sat down at one of the numerous tables in the library, pulling out your sketchbook. You had no homework yet because it was only second period and like a good student you had finished your previous night’s homework at home. You pulled out the familiar book and opened it to the middle, where there would be a blank page. But instead of blank pages there were pages on pages of what looked like algebra notes, and they weren’t yours. The writing was small but neat. Numbers and letters were nestled together in long equations, the answers boxed neatly at the bottoms of the page. You slammed the notebook shut and grabbed your bag, rifling through the contents, praying you would find your book tucked in among the others. But you had no such luck. You opened the notebook to the front page, hoping to find the name of whoever this belonged to. Neatly written in the front cover in large black ink was the name PETER PARKER, your stomach twisted and your breath hitched.

“Shit, this is Peter’s math notebook,” you spoke. Someone whispered at you to shut up but you ignored them, you had a bigger problem. Peter probably had your notebook, which was full of sketches, many of which were of HIM. You probably just accidentally grabbed his in your rush to leave your chemistry class. But now this was going to be really embarrassing. You knew Peter didn’t have algebra until fifth period, so he probably wouldn’t be opening what he thought was his notebook until then. And between now and then you had a ten minute recess between this period and third period, and lunch between fourth and fifth. So you just had to get your notebook back at one of the breaks, not so hard right?

You sat at the edge of your seat, your eyes glued to the clock on the wall, waiting for the bell to ring, waiting for your ten minute break to begin. The bell rang loudly and you bolted out of the room, shoving your way through the crowded halls, ignoring the protests of your fellow classmates. Your eyes scanned the masses, hoping and praying to spot Peter’s dark hair bobbing among the rest. You made your way to your locker, after all you did need to grab the rest of your things for the day. You shoved the things you needed into your backpack, all the while looking out for Peter. You suddenly spotted him across the hall, talking to Ned. You decided that you weren’t going to confront him, just in case he wanted to know what was in the notebook he had grabbed. You walked up behind him, trying to keep close so that you wouldn’t be separated by the kids darting to and fro. You noticed his backpack was unzipped a little on one side. If you got closer you could just unzip it a little more and grab it. In fact, you could see the red cover through the opening. You got a little closer, reaching out to grab the zipper, you finally grabbed hold of the zipper, ready to pull it open and grab the book. But Peter suddenly whirled around to face you, your hand slipped off the zipper. His face was contorted in surprise as you stood there facing him, looking like you were trying to break into his bag. Which, granted you were, but for a good reason.

“What are you doing?” he asked accusingly.

“Uhhhh-” you stammered, not having an excuse since you didn’t think you were going to ever actually speak to him during this encounter.

“Were you trying to unzip my bag?” He asked again, you continued to stammer, wracking your brain for something to say.

“I saw her following us awhile back, but I just thought she was heading to class, not trying to stalk you,” Ned added as Peter continued to look at you, his eyes wide with disbelief. You looked at Ned, who was only making this harder for you.

“I- uh- well you-” you stuttered, but were cut off by the bell ringing shrilly once again. Peter sighed and Ned muttered something about you being a stalker before he turned away from you and proceed down the hallway. You stood there for a minute, wondering how you were going to continue on trying to get your notebook back. You eventually headed to class, knowing there was nothing you could do until lunch since you didn’t have any classes with Peter.

The next two periods dragged on, each minute longer than the last. But finally the lunch bell rang, freeing you, and five hundred other kids, into the quad to enjoy the free period. You ignored the brown bag of food in your backpack, instead focusing on finding Peter before he opened your notebook. You scanned the tables, searching face after face, but unable to find Peter. After another few minutes of awkwardly standing in the middle of the cafeteria, you finally found him at a table in the corner. He was with Ned, who was getting out his own lunch while Peter poked suspiciously at the colorless mush on his tray. You crossed the cafeteria, watching Peter instead of where you were going, running into many people on your way to his table. As you got closer Peter opened his bag and pulled out a familiar red notebook. You gasped and quickened your pace, you needed to get to him before he opened it. You were too late. He opened the notebook and paused, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion, and now that you were closer you could hear what he was saying to Ned.

“What? This isn’t mine. Where’s my algebra notebook? Do you know where this came from? These are some pretty sick sketches, you know, these ones kind of look…. Like me,” he commented, flipping through the numerous sketches of himself.

“Ned, these are definitely of me. This one's titled ‘Peter looking cute as ever as he mixes chemicals for our lab’. This is getting weird,” Peter mumbled. You were now standing only a few feet behind Peter. Tears began forming in your eyes as he continued to flip through the book. Ned looked up from the table, right at you.

“Peter, your stalker is back, and for some reason I think she might be behind those creepy sketches,” Ned stated. Peter whipped around to face you. Your heart battered in your ribcage and you voice caught in your throat.

“Did you really draw these?” he asked, his voice at such a pitch so that you couldn’t tell if he was angry or not. You stood motionless, having more and more trouble biting back the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks. You couldn’t stand here any longer and look at him. He looked at you like he was sorry for you, and the last thing you need is for him to tease you about this. If he didn’t like you like that, he sure didn’t need to embarrass you like this. You threw your bag off your shoulder and tugged open the zipper, pulling his red notebook out of your bag.

“Here is your goddamn notebook. I’m not a stalker, I wasn’t following you because I’m creepy, I just thought maybe I’d be able to steal my notebook back before you opened it, but as per usual, I’m too late. You keep the thing, I don’t want it back, not after all this. Goodbye,” you spit, trying to put as much malice into your words as possible. You hoped by being mean, neither of them would ever confront you about this again. You threw Peter’s notebook at him, the pages landing open-faced on the table, some loose homework spilling out from the front.

“What, no [Y/n] I never thought-” Peter tried to say, but you turned on your heel and left. Tears slid down your cheeks, faces turned to look at you. You trudged to your next class, just wanting the day to end.

And finally it did. The last bell rang and you slipped out of class, into the hall and toward your locker, hoping to god you didn’t run into Peter. But of course, he was waiting for you down the hall, right in front of your locker, how lucky were you? You contemplated running for it, but decided to push forward. You made your way slowly down the hall, getting closer and closer.

“Excuse me, you’re right in front of my locker, would you mind moving, please,” you murmured. Peter looked up at you from his phone, his eyes kind and contemplative. You suddenly regretted being so mean earlier.

“No, not until I give this back to you,” he stated, pulling out your sketchbook from behind his back, extending it out to you.

“No, really, I don’t want it. Especially not after the whole fiasco at lunch today,” you replied, looking down to the ground.

“No, [Y/n] take it. You’re a great artist and you should continue drawing. Those sketches you did of me were awesome. I didn’t think you were a stalker at all, Ned was just being weird because he has no idea how to communicate to girls. I didn’t ever think you were a stalker, or creepy for that matter” Peter finished, still holding out the sketchbook out to you. You now took it from him, holding it close to your chest.

“Thanks Peter, I hope this doesn’t ruin our lab partnership, I’d love to still be friends with you,” you decided, accepting that you could be friends and nothing more.

“See that’s the thing, I know your feelings toward me now, and I’d like to say, I feel the same way. But since we only have one class together, I never thought you’d feel the same way,” Peter admitted, looking down at you.

“Really?” you asked.

“Really,” he promised, his cheeks erupting in a crimson blush, a wide smile pulling up his lips.

“Well, I should get going,” you declared, stepping back a little. You weren’t quite sure what to do with this new information. You’ve wanted to hear those words for months now, but now that you had you weren’t sure what to do with them. And it seemed that Peter was just as bewildered as you were.

“Alright, by Pete. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you chirped, excited at all of the possibilities ahead of you and Peter.

“[Y/n] wait up!” Peter called after you were about halfway down the hallway.

“At least let me walk you home,” he commanded, smiling down at you as he fell into step alongside you.

“Fine Parker,” you teased, your hands brushing as you walked.

“This is great,” Peter whispered to himself, but he wasn’t all that good at whispering. God he was so cute, you still couldn’t believe this was happening. You two emerged into the warm, bright afternoon sunlight. Peter snaked his hand through yours, his warm palm pressed firmly against yours. You leaned your head on his shoulder as you walked.

“Hey maybe I could model for you some more. I’ve alway wanted to do some naked modeling,”  he joked as you waltzed down the sidewalk hand in hand.

“No way Peter,”

“Hey don’t knock it ‘til you try it,”

@tiffany-lester72

@derpycp

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