#but a Soft Concerned Voice? no now i'm right back into punching things mode again

[trans-cuchulainn]

also what is wrong with me that when people try and be gentle-sympathetic when i'm in grumpy pain overwhelm shutdown mode i just want to hit something

"are you okay? ❤" no i'm filled with murderous rage, stop being soft-nice to me before i break something

[babylooneytoonz]

Warnings: Bucky has a nightmare, more truths revealed, Dark Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier mode .

Note – The dialogues in 'bold italics' are not mine. These are their quotes from the comics.

Link to Coffee Stains Masterlist here.

You welcomed this newly found relationship that had blossomed between you and the Winter Soldier. The two of you were inseparable, joint at the hip. If he was at the gym, you were somewhere around, and the two of you couldn't stop either giving giving each other googley eyes, or licking your lips at the sight of the other one; or bicker at something or the other like an old married couple. The Avengers were all used to your sassy comments now, and more so, Steve Rogers. It was funny how he had stopped chastising the two of you when you started using a derogatory language with each other.

"Who the hell keeps their stinky socks in their shoes and does not wash them for over a week?" You threw a glare towards your boyfriend, who was engaged in a hand to hand combat with Steve.

This was a casual scene for the Avengers now; listening to the two of you.

Bucky grunted, muttering something under his breath as he dodged a blow from the Captain and fell to his knees, rolling over his back, trying to avoid Steve's blow.

"Ask her, she doesn't even have that many hair on top of her head, and yet the fucking drain in my bathroom's blocked," he spat, pushing himself up on his feet as he flexed his arms and ducked, grabbing Steve by his waist and slamming him against the ground, making it look as effortless as possible.

You groaned in annoyance, filling up your palm into Sam's bowl of caramel popcorns, ignoring the way he just gave you a look of pure betrayal.

"Hey! That was my popcorns, did you guys see that? This woman just stole my popcorns?"

"Sam–" you turned towards him, your eyes narrowed, as you hissed, "Caramel popcorns aren't good anyway, I'm only doing you a favour by sharing these with you."

"Sam–" Bucky interjected, "this woman has a thing for taking over the things you love the most. She's taken over my wardrobe, and now my bed, last night, she kicked me off the fucking bed," he grunted, his arms held in front of his face as he blocked a punch from Steve.

A series of spins, kicks, blocks and counters followed, and by the next five minutes, the two super soldiers were smirking at each other, drinking water from their chilled water bottles as the two walked up to where you were sprawled on the couch, tossing popcorns carelessly into your mouth.

"Sam, tell your friend, he doesn't have the right to complain, I would be able to fit into my own damn clothes, if he hadn't stuck his dick in me."

"Whoa, hey! You two, knock it off. Listening to the two of you is like taking out dirty laundry, it just keeps getting dirtier," Sam commented, grabbing his bowl of popcorn, when you weren't looking and placing it on the coffee table next to him so you couldn't reach it.

To add a cherry on top of it, little Buchanan Barnes always chose to kick you hard against your ribs at just the weirdest of times.

"Well fuck," you cursed, your face contorting as a scorching, burning pain, something that reminded you of acidity, sizzled from inside of you, and your palm instantly flew to your bump, your body almost doubling over, as the team started to crowd over you, including your boyfriend.

"Well Barnes, I swear to God, if your spawn kicks me one more time .. Oof–" you groaned again, when the rebellious little punk kicked you once again, your palm now kneading over the fabric of your.. Bucky's sports fit t-shirt that you had taken over.

Wanda giggled in glee, leaning over you so she could feel the kicks too, and so did Sam.

Bucky just smirked, his arms crossed over his chest, as he towered over you with a look of triumph washed over his face that you managed to catch, "what you smirking at, Mister?"

"Nothing, atleast my kid knows how to shut you up." He lowered himself next to you, his arm coming to rest around your shoulder as a peace offering and you sighed, leaning into him, letting the rest of the Avengers gush over the kicks while you just took a deep breath and groaned every time the kick became brutal and you felt an urge to slap Bucky for injecting you with his super serum swimmer.

"Pesky bugger," you muttered under your breath, watching your boyfriend grin next to you and run his flesh hand over your stomach, before quickly kissing the back of your head.

"Well, what was that for? I thought I clogged your drain." You grumbled.

"Yeah, you do. But that doesn't mean I don't love you two." He leaned in to quickly peck on your lips before he stood up and threw out his palm towards you and you took it, stepping up to your feet.

"Yeah I feel like a fucking whale," you grumbled as the two of you walked out of the recreation room, towards your apartment.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

You pulled the blanket closer over your body, letting out a soft gush of air as you rolled over on your back. Your ears perked up when you felt slight movements next to you, and your eyes fluttered open.

"Нет, пожалуйста, не делай этого."

You pushed yourself up on your elbows and swiped your palm over your sleepy eyes, trying to listen to the words shooting from your left but you couldn't understand them.

Bucky was most likely having a nightmare.

You leant over him, gently placing your palm over his chest, and your other hand stroking over his sweaty forehead, as you tried reaching him out, "It's alright, Bucky. It's okay, my love. They can't come in here. Wake up."He stirred in his sleep, but your words seemed to be working on him; he visibly relaxed, and his breathing steadied.

You sat hunched over him for a few more minutes, just stroking over his warm head with your fingers, but soon, your back had started hurting, and you felt the sudden urge to pee. Discreetly, you pulled back your hand, pulling the blankets over Bucky's bare chest, as you started sliding out of bed when suddenly, his metal arm found your wrist and he pulled you back, and you tried to pull your hand away, whispering to him, "Bucky, babe.. wake up please. You have to let go of me."

You struggled to pull your wrist away but he just gripped onto it harder, and started mumbling some barely incoherent words , in Russian, "оставляй меня, Natalia." Although you couldn't figure out anything that he had whispered, you had heard just the word you never wanted to hear from Bucky's lips, Natalia. Roughly, you pulled your wrist away from his grip, and slid out of bed, tiptoeing into the bathroom and bolting the door from the inside.

Pulling your underwear down, you lowered yourself onto the WC, and your hands flew to your head, your eyes clenched shut. Your heart was drumming inside your chest, and you were suddenly feeling not so good.

Natalia.

You had a glimpse that James Buchanan Barnes knew Natasha Romanoff from his days at the Red Room, but that's all you knew. There were no details, and never did you feel the need to ask. But you couldn't help it now, it kept stinging at the back of your head, again and again, and you felt you had to know.

"Natasha?" You knocked on her apartment door and stepped back, when you heard a groan from the inside and the shuffling of sheets, before soft footsteps reached your ears and Natasha unlocked the door, rubbing her eyes as she glanced at you, top to bottom.

"Can we talk?"

"Can't it wait?" She grumbled, under her breath, but a part of her knew, that this was bound to happen someday, only she hadn't realized it would be so soon. You were bound to ask questions, but neither she, nor Bucky had thought that it would be so soon.

"He called your name in his sleep, Natalia," you bit back on your tongue and looked away from her, not wanting to break down in front of her but you could see that she was looking at you with concerned, soft eyes and she had moved out of the way, so you could step into the room.You stepped into the dimly lit room, ignoring how Natasha had taken your arm and was now dragging you to her bed.

"I knew this would happen, eventually. I didn't think it would be this soon."

"What are the two of you hiding ? What happened at the Red Room?" Your voice came out broken, and cracked.

"Listen Y/N," Natasha's voice was soft, as she sat down next to you, and reached for your hand, causing you to stiffen in response, but you didn't draw your hand back, you waited for her to tell you, what you didn't know yet.

"You do know that I and Bucky were a part of the Russian Organization."

You stared into the darkness in her room, and hummed in response.

"Well, Barnes was one of my trainers, who trained me to become who I am today," she continued.

You blinked, feeling your eyes start getting glossy, and you forced a laugh.

"This is the non scandalous part of it all, isn't it?"

"There are some things love, there is no point trying to mull over them. Whatever I had with Bucky, it's not there anymore."

"So you had something with him." You pointed out, your lower lip trembling.

"I know ..how he thinks. We were both weapons once.. to be used."

A sudden silence took over the two of you as you two sat there, contemplating when she slowly turned towards you.

"You don't have anything to be worried about. James Buchanan Barnes and Natalia was a one time thing, we couldn't work out, and we realized that we worked together better as friends, and nothing more."

You stood up, straightening Bucky's tshirt, pulling it over your thighs and Natasha followed suite, the two of you making your way towards the door.

"Besides, it's not my place to tell Y/N, this should all come from his mouth, I hope we're good?"

You nodded, looking at her, "yeah." You mumbled in a low voice as you stepped out of her apartment and disappeared out of her sight.

You took a little detour, up on the roof and reached Bucky's apartment almost an hour later. You had expected Bucky to be asleep, but when you stepped in, he was already getting dressed in his jacket by the mirror, and he turned, giving you a look of perplexity.

"Where the hell have you been?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"You could've woken me up."

"I tried to, but you were having a nightmare and you were calling out Natalia's name."

The way he looked at you, it looked like the words had left him. He stared into your eyes, searching for how you were feeling, but all he could see was a hollowness inside of you.

"Listen, I.." he began, but shut his mouth, when you looked away and slowly went to sit by the edge of the bed, withdrawing your gaze from him. It was as if you were stuck underwater, everything was slow to understand as he ran his hands through hair in exasperation.

"There's nothing between the two of us, you know it. You know that I am in love with you."

Although you could sense the sincerity in his words, yet , something at the back of your mind kept nagging at you.

"Then why did you not tell me about your relationship with the Black Widow? Why did you hide it from me?"

He was contemplating whether to walk up to you in the back of his mind. Finally, he took a step closer, and another one until he was walking up to your side of the bed and lowering himself next to you, so the both of you sat side by side, "I just didn't tell ya, because there was nothing to tell. I loved her once, but it was long time ago."

You stood up, as fast as you could with your baby bump, your hands on your back as you glared at him, "how is it so easy for you to say you loved her? Loved? And now you live under the same roof with the woman you used to love."

"With the woman I currently love!"

That came out wrong, Bucky knew that you would interpret his words in the wrong way as you pressed your palm to your lips, trying to suppress the whimper that you wanted to let out.

"Currently? Until another one comes along? And you toss me away?"

"Jesus, you're the first woman I ever fell in love with, ever since things between me and Natalia ended," he tried to explain, trying to reach out so he could take your hand, but you crossed your arms over your chest.

"That's supposed to make me feel better yeah?"

Bucky took a deep breath, shutting his eyes for a brief second and looked up at you again, his eyes expressing a foreign emotion that you had never experienced before. Was it regret? Or was it the same thing that he had with Natasha and did not have with you?

"A long time ago, Natalia Romanova made me remember what it was like to feel human. And they punished us both for that, in different ways," he blinked, his eyes suddenly cold, as though he was lost in a distant memory. "This is why I didn't tell you, because I didnt want you to react this way. We've all had pasts, doll."

"Your past is sleeping on a floor below me right now, while mine is cold in his fucking grave."

You huffed, sniffling slightly, as you grabbed your pillow, and started making your way out, when Bucky stood up, and dashed after you, slamming the door shut so you couldn't leave, "You're overreacting."

"Bucky, I am not in the mood, not right now. We're gonna talk when I've cleared my head, I'm gonna go up to the roof and just clear my head. Please don't follow me."

He nodded, as he didn't want to make this any worse for you. He moved out of your way, and you passed through, dumping your pillow in your own apartment on your way back as you made your way up to the roof. Stars were scattered all over the sky like little snow-flakes in the night. You couldn't help but smile, feeling the wind blow your hair into a tousled mane as you pulled out your phone, and dialled Fury's number.

"Y/N? Is everything alright?"

You didn't know if everything was alright; all you knew was you needed to let this all out, as it was killing you from the inside.

"Fury? Guess what, almost no one gets out of love alive."

"Y/N, what the hell are you talking about? Where's Barnes? What did he– "

"I'm gonna go now. I just need to clear my head. Take care, Fury."

"Y/N–"

You disconnected the call and slid your phone into your pockets. Fury, once your call was abruptly disconnected, called up Bucky, telling him everything that you had just told him. "I'm going to make your life hell Barnes, I don't know what you've done, but I swear, if anything happens to her, and you're the one responsible for it, I will make your life hell."

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

"Hey, what's such a cute little pup like you doing out here at the park early in the morning? Don't you have a home kiddo?" A stray little pup had made its way to your bench in the park, and was now laying on its back right where your feet were, and you were tickling its belly with your fingers.

Bucky stood behind a tree, his hood drawn over his face, as he watched you. He was worried beyond anything, he was scared that what you'd told Nick Fury was something really suicidal, but here you were sitting in a park, talking to a pup. His heart broke for you, for he could see that this was affecting you badly and he should have told you all this before. But with everything that had happened so far, he could not. And now, you had found out.

You sat back up, when you heard the sound of leaves being crushed underneath someone's boots, and Bucky stiffened, his hand flying to his gun as a reflex when he heard it too.

Your alert eyes glared at the sudden intruders in your private space, and you stood up, your eyes narrowed towards the intruders with a look of hate in your eyes.

"We thought it would be difficult to reach you, but you chose to walk yourself to us, what a nice surprise," the man with the Russian accent called out.

"Dream on, I would never make it this easy for you."

You neither had a gun, nor were you agile and flexible enough to fight them alone in a hand to hand combat. You knew you were screwed, so you had to use your mind, or maybe just run.

You took a step away, but the man was fast, he lunged at you, trying to catch you, when a gunshot sounded from behind you and the man flew back with the impact of the bullet that pierced right through his chest. You didn't need to look back to know who it was, and a part of you was relieved to see him here. Instinctively, you turned towards him and he tossed you a spare handgun that you caught midair.

Men in HYDRA uniforms kept coming towards the two of you, and Bucky had already pushed you behind him, forming a human shield around you with his body, while you aimed your gun, taking down as many HYDRA soldiers as you could, and he kept trying to deflect the shots that were fired towards the two of you mostly him, using his metal arm.

"No matter what happens, you don't step into their view, stay behind me, yeah?" he shouted at you just as you squeezed the trigger, and the bullet from your weapon hit a man's forehead, before he could shoot Bucky in his chest.

"They're too many."

"Nothing I can't handle," his words were dark, and coated in venom and for once you didn't know who it was that you were speaking with, was it Bucky, or was it the Winter Soldier. 

At first, Bucky snapped their necks with ease. Bullets rained down on him, but he deflected them with ease, and one by one, bodies were scattered all around you. It was like he was on fire; he was growling, screaming and grunting in the most animalistic way, while you kept yourself behind him at all times, but shot anyone that you could within your range.

However, somehow, neither Bucky, nor you noticed, that two of them had managed to creep behind your back, hidden underneath the shadow of the trees, and were now directly behind you.

"Bucky!" You screamed, when a sudden prick in your neck caused a surge of electricity to fly through your body, and a foreign pain filled you up. You had been tasered, and Bucky was in a pool of men, trying to fight them off while you were being dragged away, your mind barely conscious as pain rang through all your body.

The pain, however, was not from being tasered; but rather, it felt like your stomach was being stabbed brutally, and you couldn't help but cry out in anguish, kneading your fingers against the fabric that clung to your bump. The pain was so bad, you couldn't even bother rolling yourself away as the two corpses landed next to you, the minute Bucky shot them and they collapsed on either of your sides.

You didn't know what was wrong, but something wasn't right.

Bucky knelt in front of you now, trying to feel your body for any injuries, when you cried out loud, almost digging your nails into the flesh on his arms, "Buck, something is wrong with our baby."

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[hotelsweet]

Hey, I had a random idea that could work as a prompt: AU meet-cute (because I'm a sucker for these) - Jake and Amy are seated next to each other on a flight and Amy is super uncomfortable/ close to freaking out (maybe because of her claustrophobia?) and Jake helps her calm down and they spend the rest of the flight talking? I dunno; random idea is random ^^;

I’MHYPERVENTILATIGN This prompt didn’t just… kill me it leapt off my screen andpunched me in the face!! In the best way possible ofcalso I’m lowkey in the mood for thisbc I’m travelling so much over thenext couple weeks!! I loooovvvveeeee it ok I won’t wastetime let’s just jump into it:

 It’s ataround 7:18pm, sat in the airport lounge waiting for her flight, that AmySantiago figures out that she is most likely receiving a death glare from thewoman sat opposite because she hasn’tstopped tapping her fingernails against her passport for the last ten minutes.

As soon as this realisation hits her she snaps out of it,immediately feeling the odd hollowness created by the absence of her nervoustick.

It’s nother fault. Flying is and always has been one of her worst fears- thoughnowadays, she’s mostly been able to subduethe anxiety for the sake of adult life, childhood nightmares of falling fromthe sky long behind her, sometimes it simply gets the better of her.

This, by all accounts, would be one of those times.

Her fingers itch to keep tapping. A light sheen of sweatglistens uncomfortably over her forehead. Her stomach churns, nausea pulsatingunder every centimetre of her skin at the thought what’s essentially a large tin can propelling itself throughthe air until she’s back home in New York.

Focused on the huge plane outside the window, she can’t help the feeling of completehelplessness that fills her.

“Will passengers for the American Airlines flight 481 to JFK pleasebegin boarding…”

A cool, calm female voice echoes through the atrium, andeveryone around Amy begins to move, standing up and organising their thingsbefore rushing over to the gate.

Perhaps she stands up too quickly, but a wave of dizzinessslams into her like she’s beenhit by a car.

Despite the collected, sweet voice that instructs her andeveryone around her, she can’t helpthe bitter irritation that brews within her at the thought of this flight. Whenit’s bad, it’s really bad;claustrophobia, social anxiety, the works. A complete tapestry of anxiety.

With a sigh, she picks up her bag and heads towards theboarding gate, waiting patiently in line with everyone else.

Inwardly, as she pats away the sweat on her forehead, sheprays she’s not sitting next to a totalasshole.

    ***

    As luck would have it, she is, in fact, sat next to a totalasshole.

“Hey, Angie?! Could I get,like, a whole bunch more of these nuts? I’m supersnacky.”

Sat up on his seat like a little kid, the man sat next toher, in the window seat, beams toothily at the flight attendant- who, to Amy’s disgust, giggles softly at him witha nod, before heading towards the back of the cabin. He’s tall, dressed in a leather jacket with a hoodieunderneath- like he can’tdecide whether he wants to be an adult or a teenager, she thinks. Annoyancestirs within her at the entire image of him, and only partially because she hasa select and precise loathing for men who speak to female employees as if they’re friends.

Since he’sarrived, squeezing past her into his seat, he’sfiddled loudly with his little TV screen, chatted to the cabin crew like they’re his college buds, and hummed theentirety of what she’sfairly certain was a Coldplay song. She’s neverseen someone so unapologetically cheerful and friendly.

He must catch the side-eye she’sgiving him, because after he’s sathimself back down, his attention keeps coming back to her, looking at heroddly, a combination of interest and confusion in his expression.

She tries to ignore it, the way he’s unabashedly observing her in public, watching her gothrough each of her electronic devices and turn them off. His gaze burns intoher, completely unashamed, until she actually finds herself becomingfrustrated. He must be used to this, being able to look at and speak to whoeverhe wants- he’s pretty good-looking, andclearly a confident guy. Somehow, this only makes her want to scold him more.

“Can I help you?” She asks him sweetly.

“Y’know, you don’t actually need to do that,” he says matter-of-factly, noddingdown at her lap, in which sits her laptop, her phone, and her iPod, all now shutoff or on airplane mode.

“What? Yes, you do,” she says, “otherwise why would they ask you to?”

“Because it’s not actually dangerous, it justmakes an annoying noise over the radar when they’retrying to fly.”

“Well, then,” she says, smiling coolly, “I guess I just have a shred of commoncourtesy.”

He doesn’t replyto this, instead raising his eyebrows indignantly and sitting back in his seat.She glances over at him, just once, to see if he’sreacted- but all that remains on his face is a slight expression of amusement.It’s just on the brink of irritating, asthough her speaking back to him is funny somehow.

Quietly, she opens her bag in her lap, and begins to dig forher Ambien and a bottle of water. Her fingers find the bottle, pulling it outof the bag- but, to her horror, the pills are nowhere in sight.

“No, c’mon…” shemutters to herself as she begins to dig through her bag more urgently.

Annoyance and another dollop of anxiety smacks her gutharshly as she realises she’s aboutto sit here, for six hours, next to this dude,without anything to calm her down. She could always soothe the nerves with somewine, but right now she’drather do anything than bring that flight attendant back to her.

A soft dingsignifies the seatbelt sign coming on for the first time- Amy’s stomach twinges with nerves, eventhough this fits the order of things, the bustle and hubbub of people settlinginto their seats having died down. The little screen in front of her lights upand begins to play a safety video, and several flight attendants file into theaisles to begin their demonstration.

“I’m Jake,” theman next to her says quietly as she watches the hostess in front of them.

She smiles politely at him then looks back towards thehostess. It’s not that he seems genuinelyawful, or anything- even if he has been mildly irritating in the half an houror so they’ve spent together- but shejust could not be in less of a mindset to make a friend; even chatting feels alittle too much of an effort to push her head into right now. Judging by theway he was talking to that attendant, there’s alsothe chance that he’s about to start flirtingwith her, which she really can’t deal with right now. So, as far asshe’s concerned, the best option issilence.

“Okay, I’m sorry for picking on you when youput all of your electronics into airplane mode. I have a reflex where I can’t help but pick on dorky littlethings like that.”

“Are you sure that was anapology?” She narrows her eyes andturns to him. He looks at her candidly, like he’sgenuinely undecided. It’s atthis exact moment that she realises he’sharmless, going from one goofy expression to the next like a teenager.

“I guess I’m a little out of practice,” he admits, a small chuckle risingfrom his throat.

“Right.”

Though she’slooking forward at the air hostess, she allows herself a small smile now, as itbecomes clearer and clearer that, immature as he could be, his main issue as aperson seems to be being overfriendly.

“I’m Amy,” sheoffers.

“Amy,” he repeats, smiling. “Nice tomeet you.” He offers his hand, whichshe shakes firmly. “Good shake,” he comments.

“I’m well-practiced,” shesays proudly. Momentarily, she spots confusion dart over his face, but sheignores it- she doesn’t owehim the wild stories of her handshake seminars, not yet.

“So what’s bringing you to New York?” He asks quietly, after a moment.

“Sorry, I just-” she cuts in over him awkwardly, “I want to listen to this,” she says, looking between him andthe safety demonstration.

“Right,” he says, and she turns back to watch. Only a couple ofseconds pass before he’stalking again. “I can only assume this isyour first ever flight, because there’sliterally no other reason to be that invested in an airline’s safety guidelines.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” shereplies, “but do you ever stop talking?”

“I guess not,” he says, throwing a peanut in theair and catching it in his mouth. “Nut?”

“I’m good.”

“Your loss.” He throws another in the air.

“Oh! You’re not wearing your seatbelt,” she realises out loud, the concernin her tone immediately making her a little self-conscious.

“Oh, right,” he mutters, clicking it into place. “Forgot.”

Forgot? Shewatches him fiddle with it, then go into his hand luggage, pulling out a bottleof Gatorade, from which he takes a hefty swig. She can��t help but feel a little sick at this- it’s 8:30 in the morning, and thethought of any beverage other than coffee is too much for her.

He’sunlike anyone she’s ever met before- adecent-looking man, likely around her age, with the habits and chatter of afive-year-old.

Distracted by him, she almost jumps when the plane’s engines begin to rumble, graspingfirmly onto the arm rests of her seat as they do.

“Woah,” Jake murmurs, and Amy’s notsure whether it’s a genuine reaction or beingsaid in a bid to reassure her somehow. Either way, she doesn’t care. “Y’okay?”

“Yeah, just took me bysurprise a little,” she admits.

“Sir,” that flight hostess’s voicereturns again, directed towards Jake, “if Icould request that you close your tray table.”

“Sure, smort,” he replies hastily, smiling up ather.

“Smort? Very smooth,” Amyjibes as soon as the hostess is out of earshot. He narrows his eyes. “Y’knowshe’s essentially paid to flirt with you, right?”

“For the record, I find itvery hurtful and presumptuous that you’reassuming I’m trying to flirt with her.”

“Please, it’s all you’ve done since you stepped onto this plane.”

“How d’you know that?”

“I don’t, obviously, I just mean… y’know, you’re-” Shestammers, irritated by the small smile this evokes from him.

The plane jumps as something kickstarts in the engine, and,startled, Amy’s grip on the arm reststightens- she looks out of the window, and notices that they’re at the start of the runway. Atonce, both fear and gratitude seeps into her system- fear, in response to thefact that she’s about to be launched 35,000feet into the air, and gratitude in response to the fact that, by some miracle,Jake has kept her distracted from it all for the last ten minutes or so.

“Cabin crew, please take yourseats for takeoff…” A low voice comes throughthe ceiling, raspy as though playing through a radio. Panic strikes into Amy’s chest.

“Talk to me,” she hears herself saying to Jake,before she’s even thought about it. “Please.”

She’sexpecting a joke, a look of confusion, or at least a smartass reply back- butinstead, his nonchalant expression changes immediately into one of concern.

“Sure, sure,” he starts, “Uh. You never said why you’regoing to New York.”

“I’m going home,” shesays quickly, as the plane starts to move. “I livein Brooklyn.”

“Nice,” he replies, “I livein Williamsburg.”

“Hipster-ville,” she says, without hesitation. To hersurprise, he laughs.

“I was about to argue back,but someone opened a cronut store opposite my apartment the other week.”

“A cronut store? As in, just cronuts?”

“Yeah. They’re not even that great. And I’d know- I once ate nothing but pastryfor three days”

There’s apause, and Amy’s eyes find the window, wherethe plane is now picking up speed along the runway. Jake must notice this too,because he tries to pick up conversation again rather hurriedly-

“Roommates?”

“What?”

“D’you have ‘em?” He smiles, in what must be at leastpartial disbelief, at the sudden, high-paced conversation they’re having.

“Yeah, three!”

“Three?!”

“Yeah,” she laughs nervously, “I’m kind of low on cash. I’m training at the Academy right now-I want to be a cop, so I’mcommuting, and training, and working, and… what?” She stops at the only slightly gorgeous grin he’s giving her right now.

“You’re at the Academy?”

“Yeah,” she says slowly.

“No way. I’m a cop! I finished my training acouple years back.”

“Are you kidding?” She asks seriously, completelyunable to picture this man-child in uniform.

He starts to answer, but the plane leaves the ground, andshe can’t help the small gasp thatescapes her.

“It’s okay, don’tworry.” His voice is calm, natural,quiet- just for her. By some miracle, it works, even if only by a little, herbody settling into an out-of-place calmness. “We’re good.”

“Keep talking,” she pleads, only slightlyembarrassed now by her evident vulnerability with this man, a total stranger. Nevertheless,she smiles over at him, thankful for his reassurance.

“Oh, right- so, yeah, I’m working at the 90.”

“Beat cop?”

“Yeah. Hopefully a detectivein a few years.”

“That’s exciting,” shesays, but she’s got her eyes closed, tryingto quell the dizziness caused by the rapid ascent of the plane. He chucklessoftly- she presumes at her attempt to hold a conversation with her eyesclosed- and though normally she’d feela little put out by this, she can’t helpbut laugh along with him.

Of all the things she thought she’d be doing on her flight, feeling her lungs fill withlaughter as she took off was not on the list.

The plane lifts, and lifts, and lifts- and then it doesn’t, gliding through the cloudsseamlessly.

A small dingalerts her to the seatbelt sign, which has just turned off.

“So, you’re not big on flying, huh.”

The remark comes a little while after they’re in the air. She’s breathing slowly- the conversationwith Jake died down a few minutes ago, after the plane became more stable inthe air.

She glances over at him, feeling sarcasm brim in her throat-but his expression is soft, of genuine concern.

“No,” she half-laughs. “I’m not.”

“It’s no big deal.”

“It’s just so…annoying. I know, logically, that I’m fine,but it just creeps up on me, I guess.”

“It happens. Sometimes youjust need a distraction.”

He looks over at her, smiling.

“Right,” she says, meeting his gaze.

A pause lingers between them for just a moment.

“So,” he begins, eventually, cutting the tension. “How’s theAcademy?”

“Intense,” she offers quickly, “but I like it.”

“Some of those old drillsstill haunt me,” he shudders. She laughs,relaxing a little. “What do you want to do?”

“Ideally? Captain of my ownprecinct.”

“Woah.”

“Yeah,” she replies proudly, smiling lowly.

“For the record, youdefinitely seem like a Captain.”

“Really?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“You’ve known me for like, half an hour.”

He smiles, but just as his lips part and he begins to speak again,the plane jolts harshly, the first knock of turbulence.

Amy’s handsshoot straight back to the armrests on either side of her chair, one firmlygrabbing Jake’s arm. She lets go quickly,looking over at him apologetically. He looks as though he’s about to start talking again,reassure her- but he gives up, and only smiles.

Nerves spill into her system like electricity.

This time, it’s notthe plane.

  ***

   “Such a good movie,” Jake murmurs as Die Hard’scredits begin to roll in front of them.

His voice is almost too close- after a couple hours ofconversation, spanning from everything from her seven brothers to his absentpilot father to the best cop movies of all time, they’d decided to watch DieHard, Jake’s favourite and bid for thenumber one spot. However, this had meant picking whose screen to use. She’d suggested hers for two reasons: sothat she’d not have to lean againsthim, and so that she’d nothave to lean any closer to the window, and risk seeing that stomach-churningheight outside. So now, as he speaks, he’spractically in her ear.

“Are you… crying?”

“No, duh,” he replies, sitting back, buthis voice has cracked slightly, exposing him. She can’t help but chuckle. “It’s a deeply personal film to me.”

“I can see that,” she says, unable to keep her smileoff her face.

“Hey, you don’t get to tease me about gettingemotional.”

“What? Why?”

“Earlier? When I mentioned theorange soda thing? You freaked out.”

“Putting it in your cereal isobjectively disgusting!”

“Oh god, I shouldn’t have brought this up again.”

“You should not be as fit as you are.”

“I’m fit?” Hegrins.

“Not… I didn’t mean…”

“Kidding.”

She nudges his shoulder and sits back in her seat. Heatrises in her cheeks- she can feel him looking at her even though she’s turned away, and suddenly she’s wishing she’d worn literally anymakeup, or perhaps something more form-flattering than a giant sweater and apair of leggings.

“How’re you feeling?” Heasks after a moment.

“Better,” she says slowly, and she means it-she’s tired, certainly, from the stressof the morning, but otherwise, she’sfeeling pretty good. Plus, she’s madea friend. “How long left?”

“Uh…” He flicks on his screen. “Woah.An hour and a half.”

“Seriously?!” She looks over in amazement. “That’sincredible. Thank you.”

“Thank you?”

“For keeping me distracted.”

“Oh, right. Don’t worry about it. For the record, it’s been pretty enjoyable.”

She smiles gently. He’s notbad. Not at all.

“Excuse me,” an older voice comes from the seatin front of them. An elderly woman, easily in her seventies or eighties, hasher head poking through the gap between her seat and the one next to her. “Excuse me.”

“Hi,” Amy says slowly, in some disbelief, sharing a brief lookof confusion with Jake. “Can wehelp?”

“It’s just, I’ve beenlistening to the two of you, for the last couple hours,” she admits easily, prompting another shared look betweenJake and Amy. “And I was wondering if Icould ask you something.”

There’s abrief pause as they wait for her to ask- at which point it becomes clear thatshe’s genuinely asking for permission.

“Go ahead,” Jake says, after a second.

“When in the hell are yougoing to ask her out?”

  ***

  As the plane plummets to the ground, swooping so fast Amy’s ears pop, her hand is claspedfirmly over the warm arm of one Jake Peralta, a man she has known for sixhours.

Her eyes are closed, and every thought in her head centres onthe feeling of where she holds him. For the first time in her life, she’s finding her flight’s landing remarkably tolerable.

Eventually, a bump tells her they’re on the ground- then, gradually, bit by bit, they slowdown.

With a deep breath, she begins to completely calm down,opening her eyes and turning to the kind, friendly, attractive man sat next toher- for a moment, she wonders how, today, she got so lucky.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to New York. The current local time is5:30pm…”

“Okay, so I guess this is it.”

“I guess so,” she agrees.

They watch each other quietly for a second- then,simultaneously, break out into huge grins, mirroring each other giddily.

“So…”

“See you at eight?”

“Sounds good.”