#but my favorite part is actually CREATING the robot. making a body to run the code in. a physical creation.

[fabulouslygaybean]

i love robotics but it's so hard to find classes that actually, like,,, focus on actually building robots

[thenamesblurrito]

assorted Transformers fics to rec (part 1...?)

i really do think fic recs are valuable to fandom so here’s a random collection of Transformers fics i like, with no particular theme. these were compiled by frantically googling half-remembered bits to try and find the only ones i remember reading years ago, and i know i’m missing some i’d like to include

EDIT: part 2 here!

A Prime Performance

TFP AU, incomplete, AO3. Megatron is an actor in a children’s show. this is just as hilarious as you think it is. some slowburn MegOp. i love all the easter eggs and references and the way this in-universe show is created and run?? it’s fascinating

All Roads Lead to Rome

no set continuity/vaguely Bayverse, oneshot, AO3. a huge robot warrior like Sunstreaker is odd enough in modern times, just imagine him in ancient Rome. extremely interesting premise to me i love this bit and would love more. warning for typical crass patriarchal expectations for women in marriage but nothing actually explicit

Another Gate

Bayverse, complete multichap, FFN. whatever Sam is now, it isn’t human. some REAL good body horror, friendship, and alien strangeness ooooo

Bodies (break)

IDW, oneshot, AO3. Ultra Magnus goes to therapy and Rung is something wrong. oooooooghhghghhf i LOVE when people lean into the oddness and creepiness of the local god

Brave New World

fan canon, ongoing webcomic, TFW05. a spin on BW among other things, following Rodimus Prime’s crew of beastformers as they face down an assortment of bad guys and mysteries. LOVE this canon guys i LOVE it, very very good beast mode choices, very heartfelt and very funny, i also love seeing the art progression over the years. lovely webcomic here

Burn a hole in the old grip of the familiar

TFP, complete multichap, AO3, NSFW near the end. it’s focused on Ultra Magnus/reader but the first half of this fic is probably my favorite. the overwhelm and incredulity the reader character grapples with for awhile, i feel like it’s pretty realistic for someone who’s been shoved into a weird new world. DEFINITELY did Breakdown dirty though. has sequels that i haven’t read

dares for the first time

G1, oneshot, AO3. lovely little take on a G1 Guiding Hand that makes me feel things

Dog of Law

IDW, complete multichap, AO3. the Lost Light crew don’t find Minimus in Tyrest’s cells, they find a small green turbofox. lovely character driven piece here and honestly i just really like when his canonical turbofox alt is used i think it’s a shame we never got it in the story proper

First Contact

IDW, incomplete, AO3. listen it’s only a little bit written but i am OBLIGATED to post isekai/modern girl in Middle Earth/falling into fiction type of stories and i really liked the setup for this one okay! i love isekai and this was the only one i could remember to track down

Grey Is The Night

Batman/vaguely IDW crossover, complete multichap, AO3. there’s a new police car in Gotham, and it’s up to no good. listen i don’t even do DC stuff but Batman meeting Prowl here is done MARVELOUSLY ohhh i love this very much, the plot is GOOD, and i bet folks who actually like DC will love it even more

Hazard Light

IDW, oneshot, AO3. a hanahaki take on Brainstorm/Perceptor that i actually like, despite not usually enjoying hanahaki at all, with some nice Cybertronian biology too

How to Save the World in 8 Minutes and 3 Seconds

vaguely G1/continuity soup, oneshot, AO3. how does Prowl save a species, with blocked communications, no visuals, and a short time limit? why, he just keeps an eye on social media of course! a lil dark and fun and clever

In Media Bellum

TFP, incomplete, AO3. human reader is caught up with Team Prime in a delightful exploration of culture and introspection and found family. no shipping but masterful platonic relationship work! it feels... idk relaxed? caring? i love the tone of this writing

Juxtaposition

vaguely G1, complete multichap, FFN (also on AO3 but never finished crossposting). a human OC gets in a car accident and starts hearing voices in her head, unknowingly saving a Cybertronian’s life, even if it’s in a very atypical manner. love this OC, love the whole premise here and the exploration of an alien reality from a human POV. no shipping, if that’s not ur thing

Lost Light/Rodimus

IDW, oneshot, Tumblr. the ship comes to life and has something important to ask Rodimus. i love this concept it’s very good, very intriguing

Magnus Carey

IDW, oneshot, AO3. Verity teaches Minimus about Christmas. short and sweet, i love their friendship

My Totally Real Mary Sue Husband Who Lives Back On Cybertron

TFA, oneshot, AO3, Dratchet. “Ratchet offhandedly mentions he's conjunxed. Bumblebee refuses to believe him. Hijinks ensue.” funny and in character and sweet

Mythbusters Season Nine Interlude: The Autobot Special

G1/Mythbusters crossover, oneshot, AO3. busting some myths AND some Decepticons! it just keeps getting better and better the further you read. i laughed out loud so many times, and cheered at recognizing so many classic Mythbusters bits, and i will get on my hands and knees to beg for a Dirty Jobs sequel these shows were my CHILDHOOD

Patronus

TFP, twoshot, AO3. Megatron has teatime with Rung, who... is not a normal bot. more good good Rung being something wrong

Property Of

Bayverse, incomplete, FFN. when Sam and Mikaela meet Bumblebee, it isn’t as an Autobot scout, but rather as a new owner of these recently discovered organic animals called “humans”. a very well done human pet fic that doesn’t veer into psychological torture or boundary crossing or anything (sorry if that’s your jam) and while it’s incomplete i still love what’s there, especially as the kids learn how to communicate their personhood to an ignorant Bee

Rules to Follow When Making First Contact

continuity soup/fan canon, ongoing series, AO3. listen i know many folks aren’t here for the human characters but i LOVE all the humans here they are each characterized so well and i love seeing how its been blended together across canons. this is a very clever, very engaging setup with a very grounded presence for alien robots that hits in ALL the right places for me. AUTOBOTS LEARNING ENGLISH YALL!!! YES!!! very good very good

Scrimscrim

TFP....... sort of, incomplete, AO3. what do you do when you end up with a Starscream toy brought to life? this is a hilarious premise with good characterization, a lovely human OC, a ridiculous situation handled very realistically, and generally good fun to read. reverse isekai is perhaps more of a favorite of mine than isekai!

SG Prime

TFP SG au, ongoing webcomic, own website and DA. REALLY REALLY COOL YALL. fantastic designs and inclusions and expanding on TFP lore and making very interesting SG dynamics and just. excellent.

TFP Wheeljack in TFA

TFP/TFA crossover, ongoing series of posts, Tumblr. i LOVE crossovers, i will kill and die for crossovers, and this is one of the few i’ve been able to find! there’s enough posts under that tag that i haven’t been able to read them all but what i did see is GOOD

The Echo Garden

IDW/TFP crossover, incomplete, AO3. Soundwave gets picked up by the Lost Light. okay i am a SUCKER for crossovers as previously stated and this one is Good. leans fully into being a crossover and expounding on the differences between universes. Soundwave needs to figure out what to do with himself! also features some delightful slowburn SoundRod and a lovely ensemble cast. Toaster is the best

The One Where The Decepticons Are The Good Guys

TFP SG au, incomplete, AO3. i’m not typically a fan of Shattered Glass stuff but this doesn’t feel terribly OOC or completely upended or alien to the original plot, i think this is done very well and i can’t wait for more

Transformers Recovery: Primal Launch

fan canon, complete multichap, AO3. it’s like the Lost Light but weirder, i don’t even know how to convey its awesomeness. VERY funny, VERY cool, Sky Lynx is there, Swerve is important, Riptide is such a good bot, Megatron exists, just all good things here. treat yourself and read this it’s such a delight

Twenty-Five to Life

vaguely IDW, oneshot, AO3. Starscream/Minimus soulmate au that makes me wheeze when i read it because it it so painfully in character and hilarious oh my god i am CRYING laughing by the time i finish it. petty criminal Starscream, noble Minimus, oil and water. gets raunchy but nothing explicit with an NSFW sequel

Under Control Till You’re In Front Of Me

G1, oneshot, AO3. i need more people to join the Shockwave/Moonracer ship please please it’s good

Xenoethnography

canon soup/based in TFP, ongoing series, AO3. a more hard scifi take on Transformers from the POV of an anthropologist hired to study them. y’all, THIS IS GOOD. seriously if there’s one fic out of all of these i could keep, it’d be this one, it’s just so so good ugh. ugh i love it i need to catch up with it again

[dottoreparadox]

Theory: How did Dottore make his Segments?

To start off this blog, let's get right into one of my favorite living Harbingers.

That's right, it’s essay time, baby. Let’s fathom out how Dottore made his segments.

(Tl;dr included at the end if you only care about the conclusion and not how I reached it and what evidence I have for it because this shit gets looong. Over 3k words long, in fact.)

What we know about Dottore’s segments:

They were created by Dottore. Yes, that seems like a very obvious statement to make, but I do need to establish that these are not things he found but rather an invention of his own making. We’ll get into it later.

We have seen them referred to with the terms “segments” and “prostheses” in canon (also as “surplus” but that’s just Dottore being Dottore). A segment is defined as: “each of the parts into which something is or may be divided” while a prosthesis is: “an artificial body part, such as a leg, a heart, or a breast implant.”

I would like to make a note here that they are not referred to as “clones” despite the widespread usage of this term in reference to them by the fandom. I’ve certainly done it myself. It's important to note that they are not clones. Clones would imply that these are genetic copies of the original and/or organic in nature. This is not the case (I’ll get into the not organic argument in a bit). If they were mere clones, they would be their own person. Instead, these are “the eyes” that Dottore “placed in the dimension of time.”

They ARE Dottore. Not copies of him. Think of them more like time travelers in some kind of stable paradox rather than clones.

Also, they likely share a mind space in some capacity or other based on the overlapping dialogue we saw when Dottore erased his segments and the implications held in this statement:

“What did you see when you were imprisoned [by the Akasha]? You were observing me, and that's how you know I've long grown tired of their doubts and endless arguments. ”

The Omega build was able to speak to and listen to the other segments while he was in Sumeru and they were not present (having just sent the one segment that was helping him back to Snezhnaya).

(I would like to take a second here to clarify that while the many segments may have shared a mindscape of some sort, they were not a hivemind as we’ve previously seen in Genshin. A hivemind, as we saw it in Alhaitham’s story quest and as it is often used in science-fiction, is when multiple individuals all share a single “mind.” The segments all had their own minds. They could not have all been constantly arguing with each other if that was not the case. (Remember how the hivemind made by Siraj fell apart.) So they shared a mindscape where all their minds could touch, while keeping their own mental boundaries.)

Anyways, the shared mindscape is another important bit of evidence in proving they are not mere clones and are instead multiple versions of the same person. (Well... maybe. It could also be taken as evidence that they're all robots running using a single, remote central processor; but I don't have any evidence for this besides the likely shared mindscape; so I won't be exploring that theory further.)

Okay, now that I’ve quibbled excessively over the terminology around Dottore and his segments and brought up a bunch of interesting but kind of irrelevant points, let’s get into the actual purpose of this analysis and theory: how did Dottore make his segments?

The only direct statement we have to go on for answering this question is this line of dialogue:

“Segments are extraordinarily difficult to make. They require extremely rare resources and enormous amounts of time and effort.”

The time and effort seem like they go without saying for any kind of creation at the level of complexity as an entire functioning human being. So we won’t be going into a deep analysis of this part. Instead, let’s focus in on these “rare resources” and what they might be.

To start off, we need to establish what kind of work Dottore does. After all, if his specialty was in organic life, he would likely have made clones rather than what the segments are.

Let’s start with the one hundred percent confirmed work he has done rather than the speculated accomplishments. We have definitely seen Dottore work with:

Ruin Machines (the ruin guard factory we visited in Childe’s story quest, Zandik's legacy note series if that does end up being him)

God remains (Dottore invented Delusions and, at least in Inazuma, the Delusions were made using the Tatarigami energy left behind after Orobashi was killed. He also released the Tatarigami energy in the first place during the Tatarasuna incident. In the manga, he used god remains to suppress Collei’s Eleazar.)

Robots (Krupp in the manga, Scaramouche’s mecha body in game)

The Akasha (I’m not entirely sure how to define this one. God power? Cognition? Software? Maybe all of the above. But he could use it so well that he could edit people’s minds and trap Nahida’s consciousness in the Sanctuary of Suresthana, so let's put it on the list)

Human enhancement (based on the wise doctor’s pinion from the pale flame artifact set and just about every soldier we’ve seen from Snezhnaya. I’ve seen lots of comments along the lines of: “what are they putting in the water over in Snezhnaya to make everyone giant?” Yeah, the answer is Dottore. He’s doing weird shit to people again.)

Human cognition (this one kind of falls under the enhancement section above, but I felt his work with things like manipulating minds and dreams was its own category, see the second event in the Apple Island Archipelago. I can't remember if it was directly stated that Dottore made that machine... but it almost definitely was him.)

And more! (I’m sure we’ll learn about new and more exciting atrocities he’s committed as the game continues. Also I probably forgot something, oops.)

Out of all of that, the best basis for building a body would be his interest in machinery. This assumption is backed up by what we are told in the Pale Flame artifact set:

“"A human is nothing more than a machine of a certain level of complexity." Thus declared the youth from his lectern in the seedbed of wisdom. If one were to disassemble a part of this machine and make enhancements to it, Its performance could be greatly amplified. With or without a Vision, and irrespective of their physique or combat skills, "Enhanced humans" would surely display strength far beyond the average.”

Now, if we also pull on some evidence that is most likely to have been done by Dottore (even if it hasn’t been confirmed that it was him), then we can put stronger emphasis on his interest in Ruin Machines. Dottore is almost definitely Zandik from the Zandik's Legacy series of notes. Zandik was fascinated by the Khaenri’ahn machinery to the point that he was reprimanded for his interest in such dangerous technology. He was ultimately denied permission to bring parts of the Ruin Golems (or other Khaenri'ahn machinery, it's unclear) back to the Akademiya and instead had to help seal them up. (His interest could explain the Fatui’s later knowledge on how to reactivate a Ruin Golem that we used in the Tanit quests. Just a bit of further evidence on Dottore being Zandik.)

Pulling from Zandik’s Legacy again, we know that he wasn’t a member of the Amurta darshan, so I think it is fair to say that his interest here lies in machinery rather than human biology/anatomy. (Though, honestly, the darshans are so weirdly laid out that who even knows where any one topic of study will show up.) I’m not going to speculate here on which Darshan Dottore might have been in (that’s a future post I'm considering making) because I don’t think it matters due to the fact that we’ve seen three (or maybe four depending on how you count it) separate Darshans work with machinery.

Even if we ignore Zandik’s Legacy, we know that Dottore has definitely studied Khaenri’ahn machinery from Childe’s story quest where we visited his old Ruin Guard research lab.

I wish we had a better answer to exactly what he was doing there (was he just studying them? Was he making his own Ruin Guards?), but it is fair to say that he has likely formed a comprehensive picture of Ruin Guards due to the fact that he abandoned the research lab later on. He doesn’t seem like the type to leave a question unanswered, so he most likely figured out whatever interested him about Ruin Guards.

So if he understands how Ruin Machines work, he is capable of repairing broken ones using pieces from other machines (as mentioned in Zandik’s legacy notes),

"...It should be possible to repair this titanic machine's primary weapons system using components salvaged from abandoned mechanisms, but to avoid attracting the attention of the other team members, I have simply made some basic measurements for now."

and is capable of making human machines (Krupp in the manga);

then I think it is very likely that the prosthetic bodies created for his segments were made using Khaenri’ahn technology (or at least took inspiration from them because he found them so ingenious).

This actually might explain why his segments are so human. Ruin Machines specialize in biomimesis. Every single Ruin Machine we have seen so far (except the Perpetual Mechanical Array, but that’s based on the Algorithm of Semi-Intransient Matrix of Overseer Network (never make me write that out ever again, oh my god), so it’s still mimesis even if it’s not biologically based), has mimicked biological life forms including humans.

So the idea of using Khaenri’ahn technology to create a realistic human is not far-fetched. It would need some sort of skin to complete the mimicry, but that honestly seems much easier to create than the entire functioning robot (but I’m no robotics expert. I could be wrong about that) plus we’ve already seen evidence that Snezhnaya has that kind of capability. Just look at Katheryne. She’s some kind of robot but appears fully human. She might have even been a prototype for the segments. (Though she could equally be a creation of Sandrone's. We don't know enough yet to say. It's equally possible she is a collaboration between the two of them or that they both based their humanoid robots on Khaenri'ahn tech. If my theory about Sandrone's identity turns out to be right, this is actually highly likely.)

(A very human looking and acting robot, Katheryne is.)

Using scavenged Khaenri’ahn technology to build the body would also explain the rarity of the parts needed to build a segment better than the segments being made using purely Snezhnayan technology.

Just building any old robot would be easy for Snezhnaya. Based on passing mentions of their nation having things like trains, they are most likely in the midst of some kind of industrial revolution, so we know they can create intricate metal work with complex moving pieces and engines (also like, Katheryne, again). Plus we’ve seen the mass produced clockwork mecha from Fontaine. It’s not unreasonable to assume that, since Snezhnaya seems like it’s more advanced than Fontaine (compare Fatui elemental guns to the Fontaine muskets), they could produce something similar.

Pristine Khaenri’ahn technology, on the other hand, is a rare find and disabling machines that still work in order to get their parts would result in damage, possibly to the very pieces that Dottore would need. Likely, it takes a great number of Ruin Machines to build a single segment and on top of that they might require specific, potentially rare pieces (such as the Eye of the First Field Tiller that we found with Dainsleif, but that's just an example of a rare piece, not something I think Dottore actually needs to build segments) rather than the run-of-the-mill mass produced legions’ pieces. This is speculation though. We really have no idea about the full intricacies of Ruin Machines.

Now, I hope that was convincing enough on it’s own to establish that Dottore most likely used Khaenri’ahn technology or Khaenri’ahn inspired technology to build the bodies of his segments.

Because my closing argument is the model of what is under his mask and that is understandably not a reliable resource as it hasn't been seen in game.

I know the color scheme is off, but it does remind me of a Ruin Guard's eye. And I don't think anyone can deny that it's very mechanical, even if it doesn't look Khaenri'ahn per se. Before you dismiss this evidence entirely, may I remind you of the monster version of Dottore from the storybook.

Beyond the immediate similarities in the images, I would like to direct your attention to the single eye the monster has and the fact that it was wearing a suit to hide its true body. These are weird details to use if they just wanted to establish that he was a monster. The foxes were happy to accept a cat as a fox. Dottore didn’t have to have a fursona. And if he did, he didn’t have to be a strange, bird-like cyclopes. He could have just been a bird.

(Honestly, I just found myself caught on the detail of the single eye and was sort of confused by the decision until I saw that data mine/leak/whatever it is. I thought it was pretty cool attention to detail, even if they weren’t details we knew about yet. And don’t come at me saying Genshin doesn’t pay that kind of attention to detail. They absolutely do. I remember how Venti's Vision didn't glow in the Unreconciled Stars event because it isn't a real Vision.)

I wrote all of that and then reread Scara's 4th char story and it straight up says he got the segment's bodies from studying Scara, who in turn was based on Khaenri'ahn tech. So I guess I'm right, but not for the reasons I thought. OTL.

So if that’s the body of a segment accounted for, what about the aspect of time?

I’ll admit, his work with god remains threw me for a bit of a loop at first. My initial, tentative speculation was that he had somehow found remains of Istaroth, the god of time, and used them to get his different perspectives of time. This mostly came from the fact that Istaroth was the name of the god of moments in Greek mythology and that fit the idea of the segments very well. However, I am pretty sure this is not the case.

For one: we don’t even have definitive proof that Istaroth is dead. Well… maybe. Neuvillette’s story about Visions included this little gem: “all fragments of the primordial were driven to devour each other,” which might be a reference to the four shades, of which Istaroth was one. In that case, Istaroth would be dead, but the state of their remains, pardon my channeling of Cyno for a moment, remains a mystery.

(Get it? Remains? Cause they're remains that remain? I’ll stop now.)

Anyways, we don’t know exactly what “devour each other” might entail, so we can’t say for certain that Istaroth is dead. They might exist in a different form now instead.

For two: we have another, much more reliable, accessible, and established place where Dottore could have gotten different versions of himself from time: Irminsul. It is well established in canon that Irminsul contains the entirety of a person’s memory/data in Teyvat, and we also know that it is possible to visit Irminsul and access the data stored in it.

So the next question becomes: what proof do we have that Dottore used Irminsul? We’re going to go on a little side track about Irminsul really quick to answer this question.

Remember what Nahida said about Irminsul?

"Irminsul's inner region consists exclusively of torrents of information."

This inner region in question was noticeably blue. And as the quote above, plus other comments and observations made during our foray with Scaramouche into Irminsul suggest, all of the data stored in Irminsul takes on that same glowing, blue color.

This quest is not the first time we have seen the color blue in reference to memories obtained from Irminsul. Remember: all ley lines are roots of Irminsul. What blue phenomena do we see in relation to ley lines? Blossoms of Revelation.

They are described in the adventurer’s handbook as follows:

“A flower blossom known as "Revelation" which grows from the Ley Lines in response to someone's desire for battle. Perhaps the treasures within it can help one recall the perils that they have experienced once before… ”

Computer: zoom, enhance.

“Recall.” Blossoms of Revelation tap into the memories stored in the ley lines. We also know that ley line disorders can disgorge past memories from various quests and events. (Such as during the Caribert quest where we literally experienced our twin’s memories after the Abyss Order messed with the ley lines in the area. There were several others in Inazuma from what I remember but I don’t feel like looking up their names rn. It’s like 2:30 in the morning idgf. This is well established fact. Google it yourself.)

Also, it gives you experience books. Experiences are relived via memories. I really don’t think I need to go further into proving what’s up with the Blossoms of Revelation.

Now what does establishing that blue has to do with memories in Irminsul have to do with Dottore? Let’s take another look at Dottore. In fact, let’s look at every segment of Dottore we have seen so far. The versions from the manga and the game are pretty wildly different.

So what’s the one common point? That’s right. Their blue hair! He can have multiple versions of himself because he has blue hair!!!!

I’m kidding. I mean, that is a common point, but the actual important detail here is that earring.

The earring has held my attention for quite a while because it’s such a strange detail. Why does he have a weird glowing blue vial as an earring? Is it just to show that he loves science? I mean, maybe. We can’t rule that out. But I think it might be something more important. It is the one thing that was not changed between cow-mask Dottore and yassified Dottore. And it’s the same shade of glowing blue as Blossoms of Revelation and Irminsul's heart (and fruits and sapling fragments/information packets and-- I think you get the point).

So my theory is this: the earring contains some form of past data extracted from Irminsul. This is the “save file” that the segment is operating from. Or at least part of it. I’m not convinced Dottore put his entire “brain” into an easy target like that. If we look at the segments we saw in Sumeru, we see some other parts of his outfit with that same blue glow. So it’s more likely that this is simply some overflow or a backup or some other function I haven’t thought of. Or maybe he’s just bragging and it really is his memory drive sitting around as an easy target because he doesn’t think anyone is smart enough to realize what it really is. Fuck if I know.

I think it's also worth pointing out that Scaramouche seemed familiar with navigating the inside of Irminsul. Presumably, this means he's been there before on at least one occasion. (anyone remember if this is directly stated in the quest?) This would imply that the Fatui have had business with Irminsul before. So either they're editing time for their own reasons or Dottore made Scaramouche go fetch these copies of him for him.

And before you say that Scaramouche deleting himself from time means that Dottore couldn't make the segments without him, remember that fate is fate and always happens no matter which form it takes. If Scaramouche couldn't get the data for him, then it would happen in another way. The same applies for him getting the Segment's bodies from studying Scaramouche. (Also, I feel like if Dottore knows about Irminsul's ability to edit memories, he probably would have come up with a way to get around it? That seems very much in his wheelhouse. So we can't be sure that he doesn't remember Scaramouche. I have my own theories about the scope of Irminsul and how you might be able to dodge its edits by being in, say, the Abyss or another place outside Teyvat proper. So if Dottore stuck a segment in one of those places... But that's speculating. And wouldn't apply to the Scaramouche deletion anyways as he'd just erased them all.)

To sum it up: I think the Doctor is getting his past versions of himself by extracting copies of his own data from Irminsul somehow. Perhaps he has a way to make Irminsul give him fruits containing his own data from certain points in time. I have no idea how he's doing it. (If someone else has any ideas of how, please let me know.)

Now, before anyone comes at me all: "um actually we also see blue energy like that from Desheret's civilization, explain that." You're right. We do.

Primenergy (name stolen from Alain Guillotine) is indeed another possibility for what the blue light is. If it's Primenergy rather than Irminsul juice, then it's probably the power source that Dottore has decided to use to power the segments instead of azocite. Which I guess makes the earrings something like a backup battery? And leaves us with no clues as to how he's playing around with time. (Still probably Irminsul as it's the only thing we've seen such capability from.) But there you go. Possibility explored. The Segments could be a mix of Khaenri'ahn and Desheret's technology. It's as likely as any of my other ideas. Hell, it might even make more sense than it being condensed Irminsul juice.

I don’t know that we’ll ever actually get an answer to how Dottore built his segments as we don’t know if he’s going to build more or not. And even if he does, we don’t know that the game will go into how he’s done it. It’s not super relevant to the plot. This was just me satisfying my own curiosity and figuring some other people might have had the same question as me.

Tl;dr: Dottore built the bodies of his segments using Khaenri’ahn technology and put his mind in it using saved copies of himself from Irminsul, which are possibly stored in the glowing blue earrings he wears.

So there we have my theory on how Dottore built his segments. Please, feel free to give me your thoughts and possible refutations/further evidence (comments, reblogs, asks, in the tags, however you feel comfortable talking with me is fine). I would love to know what the rest of you think.

As for future areas I’d like to get some answers on, please hoyo, explain what the fuck he was talking about when he said “A long time ago, I made a major decision in hopes of preserving all my perspectives of how I observed the world.” What the fuck was the major decision? It can’t just be making segments. Does this imply that he had to do something to himself to become capable of making segments at all? Did it have to do with accessing his past records in Irminsul? Did he turn his original body into the first segment? Like, probably that last one, as he should be somewhere between five hundred to four hundred years old, but I demand answers!

(Actually, on that topic, I would really like an answer to whether or not there is a "prime" Dottore, as the fandom likes calling him. We don't actually have any clue what's up with his original body. We just know that all the segments except the Omega segment got deleted. So is Omega the last Dottore or is there still an "original" around as well? Or is Omega original Dottore and all the others are earlier versions of him as he never grew past that age?)

[quincifurcjones]

Some of my OC's I've made

As a person who "dabbles" in game development from time to time, I have multiple characters I have made art of, for games that will most likely never happen. I'll just make a sort of list of them here because it seems easy to make these kind of compounded posts in Tumblr.

Yo, look at one of my Favorite OC's I made: Zex

I just really like how he turned out, I was used it in a asset class and the animations were kinda non-fluid, but I love the base static design I did of him.

The color pallet I did for him turned out really well, the grays and greens for the upper body and the offset blues and purple for his spindly limbs. I never had a fully concrete idea of what he would do, I just liked how he looked.

Next on the docket is my rootin' tootin' mystical gun shoonin' magi-gunner: Murrie

I have a lot of animations and weapons done for him that were mostly inspired by one of my favorite arcade cabinet games, Sun Set Riders. My goal was to make something that harkens back to run and gun games while it mostly plays like a mega man X game, just with the robot masters instead being western tropes or crazy mages.

One of my favorite process for him was making his silly mage-cowboy hat. It was an interesting process to do, inspired by this:

A lot of my process is using old sprites from my previous projects to make a better one over time. That's probably one of my favorite processes to do, the long time iteration that can be done.

Look at him go! The little hat animations were some of my favorite parts to do for these as I wanted to give the idea of it shifting ever easily.

Next is another magic caster, I call him Lim (mostly because It's shortened from little mage)

The setting for this one is an Isaac/Gundeon type dungeon place where he entered to fulfill his greatest wish. hohoho, what could that ever be.... Surely its not sad and regretful. He and the rest of a band of misfits will ever wander there trying to survive and find the Nexus of the Lost to fulfill their heart's desires.

The last one is my oldest put to pixel, Skeleman

I remember making it as I first started out pixel art back in 2018, he was haphazardly fastened together out of a better artist's character model and a pixel art skull I found when typing "pixel art skeleton" into google. I've iterated him a decent bit over the years, but I still feel a bit conflicted over using him as a base sprite because of how I created him in the first place. Anyways if I ever did try and actually do something with him, it would be a kirby or starfy like (overly cartoony action platformer with powerup abilities).

That's it! go home! I have more, but the rest are much more half baked that I may save for a later post. If I ever want to talk about what I did to create them in greater detail, or if there is an interesting story with any of the rest like how I did with Murrie.

[finchmotionvideo]

I do genuinely dream of being mega wealthy(think Bezos. I dream big) Cuz I wouldn't do it like all you bleeding heart bitches who would give it away I would buy a mansion in 12 different countries to live in for each month of the year. Every one would have a different theme and amenities and I would have huge glass elevators instead of stairs and in each home I would install a pantry(with junk food for me but also everyones favorites) on each floor so I could always be snacking. and I'd have a cocktail bar with one of those robot mixologists. Can't forget that

And my God I'd have the finest electronic systems money can buy(inferior to passion, but I'm just trying to play Games here, man). Instead of having to emulate games I'd just have one of every system ever made. Would set up a program to auto-buy every game ever sold digitally and create the world's largest game preservation library. id pay volunteers to hunt for lost media(you might think this could be viewed as charitable. Well, Its not for you. It's so the video essay guys have better material.)

A little narc of me but (assuming i didn't have my own body but we were all still a system) I'd get hella fucking plastic surgery man I think that's metal. Hmm... This part displeases me... Yeah I'm not accepting that. remake my body to my specfications bitch(reduction here lift there oh and don't forget the semi-annual Botox for our jaw pain which we can't get consistently so we sometimes get bad pain). Oh God and I'd fix our eyes and I'd pay up the fucking nose to see anyone who will take the back pain seriously. I'd have every medical test run on us just for fun, have our brain and organs and bones imaged so they could be cool decor. One million percent getting our genome sequenced and paying a panel of world class experts as much as they wanted to write a study on our genes going over anything cool or interesting. Beau would pore over the results for fucking weeks.

Id have a pool and treadmill and (purposefully designed to be easily destructible) boxing bag so I can vent my rage better..

Don't get me wrong I would still see people of course but. Like. I'm throwing a house party at my megamansion and if you come you have to obey MY social rules(don't act like a fucking inconsiderate egotist. I bet everything I own that I can be an attentive conversationalist if you haven't pissed me off yet. Can you?). I'd be the soup nazi of my billionaire quualude raves. If I percieve of an Infraction(ableist behavior rude behavior or just if I find your incessant talking without consideration of what others think tiring) I can just actually admonish people for it from a position of power: "stop that or I'm kicking you out". The power to create a very optimal party environment in the palm of my hands... Perfectly curated vibes.

You know my wardrobe would be on point too like rooms upon rooms of tailored outfits or thrifted ones or bespoke pieces I bought off a museum struggling to stay afloat. Haha I'm just kidding I would get them to make exact replicas. Honestly I would go for 90s Nouveau riche Harvard undergrad who was raised on the teat of cutting edge parisian fashion but everyone else would have a much different answer to that question.

Beau could have some workshop with like 5 different morgan yu desks(adjustable height) absolutely unparalleled amounts of counter space and he would arrange all the supplies on ordered shelves for the easiest access so he can paint when he wants without going thru 45mins of setup and getting everything out. Probably he would also hire someone to set up a vault of digital comics so he could keep track of them all. Would give him an electric rotary press so he doesn't hurt his arms and I'd get him things he's always wanted for his birthday like [wouldn't you like to know].

Riley could have any instrument or cooking tool or ingredient he wants the spices and ingredients will be as stacked as the one in The Menu(2022). I'd pay for his private lessons from Gordon god damn Ramsey I would PAY to have Julia Child's soul reanimated so he could round out his baking skills. I would hire a pastry chef(a Cuban one, and also a French one) to make the traditional specialities for him each morning and a live-in or on call sushi chef. Honestly he would probably just volunteer or do some kind of hobby that puts him in contact w all different types of people that seems to be how he'd like to spend his time.

Thalia could uh. Have enough money to buy a personality idfk.

June and James would share the library and they'd always be bringing new stuff in from old bookstores or antique shops whatever so the Mustiness in that room would be Wack. They would have stupid fucking amounts of old trinkets or furniture. They would collect and collect and collect. But they wouldnt even be around very often they'd be going out to historical sites in mesoamerica or studying the Taíno. Or reading the graffiti in Pompeii or spending weeks taking notes on every exhibit in every historical museum in Beijing or interviewing Yoruba people across the diaspora about their spiritual/cultural history. They're very... Academic. I could see them funding studies or research into areas they're passionate about(James likes history/anthropology/science/military history and June likes biology/linguistics/neuropsychology(or neurochemistry)/genetics but they both have a lot of overlap in a lot of other subjects like they both go bananas for cultural analysis over time and paleobiology. James tries to learn about rail transport but it doesn't stick. BECAUSE THEY BOTH HATE PHYSICS AND MAAAATH)

In conclusion, you should not let me be a billionaire because I would be too good at it. Thank you for your time

[my-writings-and-musings]

Could you perphaps do hc for Blitzwings reaction to his tiiny human S/O being hurt because the Autobots accidentally collapsed something on them in a fight because they didn't know they were there

I'm not quite as knowledgeable on TFA but I did a crash course and rewatched some of my favorite bits so I hope this fits what you had in mind!

·The size of all earth life respective to Cybertronians means that, even when absolute care is maintained by all, the odds of a nearby human staying safe are far from optimal when bots fight. This is a reality Blitzwing has had to consider carefully since bringing you into his life. Generally his solution has been to keep you as far away from his "work" as physically possible, but unfortunately enough for him, it occasionally tracks him to you. All he can do when that happens one day is insist you take cover in a nearby abandoned building while he goes on the attack. You heed him without question despite your worry for his safety, knowing that he tends to fight less effectively when stressed due to his personalities clashing, and also because his stories about "Autobots" paint a very brutal picture...

·The Autobots outnumber him as they move in, their goal being to drive him away from what they presume to be a human endangering mission, but it's quite obvious who has the advantage once things get started. You can soon hear him holding his own even from your little hiding spot, the roar of battle shaking the very ground beneath your feet, and a thick accent returning combat banter with ease. The Autobots may just be trying to guide the triple changer outside of civilization, but they still end up being driven back themselves quite swiftly, though they of course are unaware it's because he won't be leaving while you are in cover. He's hardly reveling in victory while holding his ground, as frankly he just wants to get this over with and return to you, for what was supposed to be an enjoyable day in this deserted area of the city... His Hothead self boils in rage at having lost precious time, which results in him focusing everything on driving the meddlesome Autobots into retreat as aggressively as possible. You're more than worth letting enemies get away just this once, but he fully intends on leaving them with a few scars for the trouble.

·The strategy appears to work, at least from your perspective, in that their responding attacks start to become more focused on distraction than corralling. He's told you enough about combat for you to recognize suppressive fire as the typical tactic of those seeking to retreat, and you find yourself sighing in relief from your crawlspace, hearing the blaster fire grow less frequent with every passing second. Being more or less ambivalent to the Autobots means that just seeing them leave is the ideal ending for you. Blitzwing gladly notes their impending escape with a touch of pride at having saved his tiny partner, ignoring that the Autobots are probably only giving up so easily because they've come to the baffling and somewhat accurate conclusion he's not here for anything malicious. There's scattered talk of establishing a perimeter to keep him from trying anything where humans actually live, but it's fading quickly as the team prepares an obvious final retreat.

·Blitzwing so delighted to be saving you that he'll smoothly alternate personalities to let them have a turn at the feeling, or at least, what each considers to be the feeling of victory. The thought of being your savior is appealing to all of them if he's quite honest, and admittedly he can't wait to gloat on his rescue to you in person. Unfortunately, his happiness is cut short when the Autobots just so happen to include the building you're shielding yourself within amongst their final shots, unintentionally causing dilapidated supports to crumble under the gunfire they only unleashed to distract. You don't have time to run before things collapse all around you, but you do manage to catch a glimpse of his expression before everything goes dark, and the sight of his hand reaching in your direction is the last thing you see... His concern for the battle ceases in that instant. Your tiny body, so fragile and soft he'd teased you for your lack of armor every time he'd held you, was now beneath countless tons of rubble he might never clear away in time... if there was still any time.

·Confused Autobots are left gaping as he turns tail to start digging into the remains of the building in a frenzy. His personalities start to fight for control, and for those listening he becomes and endless loop of arguments with himself while digging for what can't actually be a human, right? Because it sounds like he mentioned the word human but that must be a mistake, certainly? But if there's even a chance... Programming to fight Decepticons clashes with oaths to protect organic life, and Optimus is forced to act and offer assistance to the panicked con, an offer that is initially met with threats before his desperation results in him caving to the reassurance that any human within is their responsibility to rescue. Only his love for you could lead to him accepting help from Autobots, but he's still much too worried to feel very self conscious, because each minute is far too precious to waste.

·You aren't entirely aware of your own survival. Though you can hear heavy movement from the outside of your little crawlspace, battered and barely conscious as you are, only the faintest hint of a shout heavily colored with a familiar accent gives you hope help is near. Servos capable of warping steel overturn literal tons of rubble with each swipe in his desperate hazes, resulting in boulders of debris flying in the wake of an impossibly determined Decepticon. The Autobot's calls for strategy and teamwork are only met with silence or threats; if the human in this rubble can't be recovered, then he'll make certain their body isn't alone. He ignores their resulting debate with Optimus over whether or not to continue assisting. All that matters is you, his unexpected treasure amongst the cold chaos, and his absolute refusal to lose you while there's still a flicker of his spark in existence.

·Light strikes your eyes without much warning as the rubble above you shifts, forcing you to flinch in your tiny space and cough as the dust irritates your lungs, which in accordance with your current luck sends a pang through probably broken ribs. The only silver lining to it all is that your noises create an immediate reaction up above. Increasingly clearer voices come as the window of light grows and boulders of debris trapping you in are removed, spurring you to cover your eyes as the final hunk of mortar is removed and you're blessed with a rush of cool, fresh air as the sunshine streams in. To your incredible surprise the gruff voice that speaks first to comfort you is not one you know. There's hardly time for your dizzy head to wrap itself around the phenomenon before large but gentle hands reach down to skillfully pluck you free, but the relief of being rescued doesn't last long, and trouble is brewing even before you discern the team of surprised and worried faces circling you as the Autobots.

·You're in the hands of the Autobot medic when Blitzwing sees you've been pulled, injured but alive, from the collapsed building. His joy at seeing you breathing is matched only by his terror to see you in the hands of his enemy, which quickly turns into far more usable rage as he jumps back into rescuing you from the threat that started everything. Shouts to unhand you are his only warning before a charge, one that's quickly called as a bluff when he refuses to risk your safety and skids to a halt before his enemies. The same medic holding you carefully in his hands stares down the much larger triple changer without a flinch, though the remaining bots encircle him protectively, warning him not to hurt this human in their ignorance. A standoff forms in the tense moments where Blitzwing borders on panic, alternating between threats and demands and barely disguised pleading for the return of the human whilst the bots remain steadfast in their assumed defense. It's only through sheer grumpy determination that the medic, who you learn in this moment is called "Ratchet", is able to briefly cut through the shouting and try to force an understanding, starting with the fact that if any of them care about human safety they'll let him give this one some much needed help. Unfortunately mutual distrust keeps both sides moments from launching a new attack.

·You're in no position to fight and free yourself from the ambulance turned robot holding you, but even as Blitzwing stands just ahead and looks to you with that helpless expression, you realize you don't think you need to. There's no aggression in the arms supporting your battered body, just the cautious concern of an expert. But you know your partner; he feels deeply, and once his emotions take off he struggles to listen to reason. Thus you decide to speak up and help Ratchet act as mediator, partly to be relieved of at least a bit of this pain, but also to get back to the mech who you know only wants to see you safe. The hardest part is keeping down a cough as you try to speak...

·Everything stops when the voice of a weak and battered human pipes up, silencing the still intermittent arguing and turning the attention of all gathered bots to them. Blitzwing drops the entirety of his aggressive stance once he focuses only on you, stepping closer only to be stopped by the rest of the still distrustful Autobots. Your gentle pleading for him to stay calm and hear them out stops a brawl from erupting once again, and also creates a wave of surprise amongst the Autobots; this Decepticon has befriended a human?! His Icy personality is colder and more in control than ever when he prompts the medic to lay out his plans for your care, followed by a warning that you will decide whether or not to accept it, and that if they attempt to force anything on you or take you away there will be no Autobots left on earth by the time he stops them.

·Ratchet is mercifully to the point when he explains that he merely wants to ensure there is no immediate danger from your injuries, and to provide some basic aid to tide you over until a human proffesional can assist. In the grip of rather considerable pain, you can't help but concede to the logic of the plan, looking to your partner so he can see the certainty in your eyes as you express your consent. Ever true to his word regarding you, the triple changer nods his own assent, but insists he will be by your side through it all. Ratchet is able to locate a more sheltered location nearby, and despite the complaints of his fellows agrees to render aid in private, with only his patient and the Decepticon in question to assist him. The distrust crackling through the air makes it quite difficult for you to be relieved at the prospect of medical attention.

·Blitzwing is there for you at every moment, letting your tiny hand squeeze his large servo as the medic patches you up, his dexterity surprising you almost as much as the human medical kit he carries "for the sake of a different human that frequently gets herself hurt". Every whimper of pain from you makes the Decepticon growl through his whispered comforts to you, and by the time the medic has the immediate damage bandaged and secure each of Blitzwing's three personalities has had a turn threatening the old medic. Ratchet doesn't even seem to mind as he strongly encourages you to head for a hospital while he finishes putting away his supplies. The rest of the Autobots leave with a tense and awkward parting (as well as a few murmured apologies) that includes a promise that this incident may change things for Blitzwing, should he be so inclined... An Icy expression only bids them farewell, and when the two of you are alone he finally holds you close, whispering a thousand apologies for failing to protect you from his war. Though you hardly feel prepared to understand a several million year conflict, you embrace him in return, able to take a moment to just appreciate being back with your love. The moment only ends when he, somewhat bashfully, asks what a hospital is and if you could more effectively be transported there via tank or jet?

[dancingazaleas]

jeankasa | guidance

yeah i gave them a header what abt it⁉️

this ship is gonna be coming up a lot on this page because i have immense love for this pair

also, i would just like to make it clear that i do know eremika is canon. i don’t ship it personally. pls don’t attack me

warnings/notes: modern au!, blind!mikasa, cursing, mentions of bullying, mentions of insecurity, hints of depression, shit ending

if someone had ever told mikasa that she’d lose her sight at the age of 19, she would’ve brushed it off.

but now here she was at 19, service dog attached to her hip as she navigated through the streets. her clumber spaniel dog, who she named vanilla, turned her to the left, trying to lead mikasa to the her favorite coffee shop. when she felt a small wave of air and heard the sound of vanilla’s nails clinking on metal, she knew that she was at her desired location.

with caution, she walks inside the shop and turns her head to the side to figure out where she was from muscle memory. before she could contemplate, vanilla lead her through the webs of the tables and to the counter to order. she put out her left hand, trying to feel for the edge of the counter so she could hear the cashier.

she felt at ease when she felt the cold metal on her fingertips, inching her feet forward to let them bump into the counter as well.

“hello,” mikasa said to the cashier, praying that there was one actually there, “i’m blind, so i apologize if i seem to be difficult.”

“it’s alright!” the cheery cashier said back, “let me know if you need help with the menu.”

mikasa thanks her and orders herself a vanilla bean frappe, even though she thinks it’s basic; she quite enjoys it. vanilla leads mikasa to a table and she cautiously sits down in her seat in fear of that there might not actually be one there.

“oh, did you need something,” she heard a baritone voice ask her when she plopped her butt in the seat.

“oh! i didn’t know there was anyone sitting here. i’m blind and vanilla led me to this seat,” she explains, getting ready to get up to find another seat.

“y-you don’t have to leave..!” he suddenly shouts, startling mikasa, “i mean... you don’t have to leave, you can sit here. i’m jean kirstein.”

mikasa’s face heats up as she sits back down, “i’m mikasa ackerman.”

“i’m going to grab your hand to shake it, is that alright,” jean asks and he smiles at mikasa’s nod.

when jean touches mikasa, she feels a jolt of electricity run down her spine that makes her shiver.

his skin is rough against his own and her hand is small in comparison. her hand is encased in warmth while his is encased in cold.

jean’s face was a cherry red as he stares at mikasa. she’s honestly gorgeous, black lipstick on her plump lips with a small blush running across her cheeks. her hair ebony and was a tiny mullet, bangs spread across her forehead.

her hand accidentally came into contact with his sketch paper, and she quickly yanks her hand back towards her in fear.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to touch that.”

“don’t worry, it’s just my sketch pad. i’m an art student at trost university,” he waved his hand, despite her lack of sight.

“my brother and our friend go to trost. our friend, armin, is a marine biologist students. he’s really sweet. my brother’s name is eren, he’s studying criminology,” mikasa gives a sad smile and jean knows it’s because she wants to go to trost too.

“oh i know them. i don’t... exactly get along with your brother a lot,” it manages to make mikasa crack a real smile.

“i’m not exactly surprised, he’s a very brash person,” he watches her hands lean down to pet vanilla.

before he’s able to get a word in, her name is being called for her to get her drink. her eyebrows furrow from frustration, she doesn’t know where to go.

“i’ll get it for you,” jean’s already getting out of his chair, walking over to the counter with her drink on it.

she thanks him when he guides her hand to hold it.

“so,” jean doesn’t know what to say, “shouldn’t you be getting back to... your house?”

“i should, but i don’t want to. i don’t get to go out alone much,” he nods at her.

“i’m sorry if this is rude, but were you always... blind,” jean asks slowly, gesturing his large hands in a circle.

“no, i haven’t. i started losing my vision around my 13th birthday. it was gradual and by the time i was 16 i could barely see anything, now i can’t see at all,” mikasa seems sad as she explains her situation, dejectedly sipping out of her straw.

“i’m so sorry, i couldn’t imagine going through that. you’re strong for enduring that,” jean puts his hand on top of her’s, flinching at mikasa’s flinching.

“i don’t feel strong,” she frowns, “i’m always being coddled and i can only talk about it with armin and vanilla, even if she’s a dog. you barely even know me and i’m dumping my baggage onto you.”

jean’s face flushes at the realization, “no, no, no! don’t worry, i-i asked! if anything, i should apologize for asking so much.”

mikasa shakes her head, earrings clinking as they dangle down.

“it’s alright, i haven’t gotten to talk to many people like this is a while. what’s your number,” she’s taking out a phone with a light purple phone case.

he doesn’t know how she uses it, but he’s not going to ask. he takes and when his thumb presses against the contact app, he jumps at the robotic female voice telling him ‘contacts’. guess he got his question answered.

he types in his number, trying to get used to the robot calling out each letter and number as he types.

he never thought he could learn so much in such little time.

————

jean never thought that him and mikasa would become friends. if he were being honest, he thought that mikasa wouldn’t text him after he gave her his number. he’s not that interesting in his opinion.

but luckily, she did. and now, a couple of months later, he’s guiding her hands to paint on a canvas in front of her. she’s anxious and hesitant as jean helps her swipe the paintbrush across the canvas.

“relax your body, i’ve got you. the picture will look weird if you’re too stiff,” he rubs his thumbs in circles over her wrists.

she takes a deep breath and jean can feel most of the tension leaving her body. he guides her hand to paint a large stripe in the color of a peach, hands warm against her cold skin.

“paint what feels right, let your body move on its own,” his hands slowly leave her wrists, and he watches as she runs the brush across the canvas with relaxation.

back and forth her brush runs, lips parted in slight relaxation and concentration. her face has splotches of lavender and bubblegum pink on it, and her hands are covered in a maya blue mixed with the purples and pinks.

jean can’t help but feel himself swoon at the sight, milky grey eyes darting around the canvas aimlessly and her reluctant free hand feeling for the edge of the canvas to let her know how far away she is. she’s in a loose white button up where the sleeve are cut at her elbows. her vancouver blue skirt ends at her scraped knees and her feet are bare, making her toes curl around the stretcher of the stool she’s sitting in.

“i think i’m finished,” she says as her fingers loosely hold the paintbrush in her hand.

jean looks at the painting and he feels a sense of pride in his gut at the sight. despite how much he guided her hands, she still managed to create a masterpiece all on her own.

the painting is messy, but jean loves it nonetheless. the painting is of a mix of pink peonies arranged in a vase with hydrangeas and himilayan blue poppies, peach ranunculus flowers with their petals spread in blossoming. there’s a dash and a mix of different colors in each flower that makes it feel completed and some of the colors dash out of the lines of the flowers and mixed into the honey brown background.

it’s messy and choppy, and if mikasa were an art student, she’d get a 68% on this painting. but in jean’s eyes, she’s scored a 100%.

“it’s beautiful,” he smiles, taking the paintbrush out of her hands and onto the cart of paint supplies next to the easel.

he grabs a thin brush and dips it into a black, signing it as ‘m.a.’ in the right hand corner.

“i doubt it,” she shrugs, “when will i be able to hang it up?”

“probably in a few days. i’ll text you when and i’ll come over and hang it up,” he helps her off of the stool.

“thanks,” she nods hand now reaching up to search for his own.

he puts his palm against her’s, taking note of how much smaller her dainty, yet tough, hands were against his own. their fingers intertwine perfectly and their temperatures contrast each other’s.

mikasa’s got a small blush as she stares at jean’s chest. jean lets go of her hand, moving it to her cheek along with his free hand and tilts her head up to look at his own.

jean leans down a bit and their lips connect in a sweet kiss. mikasa’s lips are soft and wet against jean’s. they shiver at the other’s contrasting temperature, but deepen the kiss anyways. jean pulls away and watches mikasa’s eyes flutter open and her face get even more red.

it has him kissing her again.

————

mikasa’s giving small chuckles and smiles as jean walks behind her and holds her hands up above her head in his own, guiding her bare feet through the runny sand. vanilla is running circles around the two of them, barking and partly happily.

jean’s making arrogant comments, which is why mikasa’s smiling, as he leads her over back to their group of friends sitting in a sandy fire pit. mikasa’s smile fades when jean sits her down on a bench in front of the fire, the sound of voices flooding her sensitive ears.

it’s mostly sasha and connie, cackling at one another obnoxiously. jean sits on mikasa’s left and eren is at her right.

“we can roast marshmallows now that the lovebirds are back,” connie snickers and it has everyone but eren, mikasa, and jean laughing.

eren’s pretending to gag as he bumps his shoulder into mikasa’s to look over at jean above her head. mikasa doesn’t need sight to know that there’s a sneer on jean’s blushing face when he also pushes his shoulder to her’s.

“stop it,” she says, “i need help with my marshmallow.”

“even blind, mikasa still scares you,” armin laughs to eren, taking a metal stick and a marshmallow from sasha’s outreached hands.

“it’s not like i’m the only one scared of her. jean’s quaking in his boots!”

jean ignores and stabs a marshmallow onto his own metal stick, guiding mikasa’s hand to grip around the wooden handle at the end. he positions her arms to hold the marshmallow over the crackling flames of the fire, and then starts to put his own marshmallow on a stick.

the conversation continues on without comments of both jean and mikasa, now focused on teasing eren. when mikasa’s marshmallow is finished, jean puts the handle of his metal stick between his knees. he’s taking ahold of graham crackers and hershey’s chocolate after he pulls mikasa’s stick away from the fire. he holds her stick at the handle and guides her with his voice to arrange herself a s’more.

“now close it carefully around the marshmallow,” he says and she obliges with caution.

he puts the metal rod on the bench beside his thigh, kissing her cheek as she bites on the s’more.

“it’s messy, be careful,” he’s holding his marshmallow back out over the flames.

she turns her head towards him, giving a small pucker of her messy lips. he kisses her lips, the sticky residue of the marshmallow sticking to his own. he laughs when he pulls away and licks his lips, enjoying the gooey treat.

he’s putting together his own s’more now, occasionally looking towards mikasa, who’s listening to sasha and eren’s conversation with rapt attention. she’s got chocolate, crumbs, and melted marshmallow spread across her mouth.

“babe, let me wipe your face off,” he’s grabbing a paper plate and sitting the s’more on it, then place the plate on the bench.

her eyes look downwards as jean wipes off her messy face with the sleeve of his shirt; something he doesn’t usually do.

“thank you,” she turns her head away, hand patting his thigh in search for his hand.

with his left hand, he holds his s’more. he gives his right to mikasa, who leads it to put his arm around her shoulders. he smiles and tugs her closer to him, kissing the crown of her head before he eats his s’more.

he groans when the flavors hit his tongue, going in to take another bite but stops at mikasa’s head turning to him.

“can i have a bite,” she asks innocently, like she didn’t just have one of her own.

“you just ate one,” he furrows an eyebrow.

instead of a reply, she opens her mouth in hopes for jean to put the s’more against her lips. he rolls his eyes while shaking his head, putting a corner of the s’more against her pretty pink lips. she bites down and he revels at the sight of her small smile.

“thank you.”

“whatever, you would’ve kept bugging me if i hadn’t,” jean snickers, pecking continuously at the crown of her head.

“true,” she smirks and nuzzles her head against his lips.

he shoves the rest of the s’more in his mouth, mikasa only knows because the everyone laughs at the sight. when he’s done chewing, he leans close to her ear to whisper to her.

“i’m gonna go to the car real quick and get a blanket. even with the fire it’s starting to get colder, and you’re wearing a sundress.”

mikasa gives a silent nod, and feels her mood dampen whenever he gets up and leaves.

“can i talk to you,” she lifts her head a bit while she processes the voice.

“yeah, what’s up marco,” he sits next to her.

“nothing’s up. i just wanted to thank you, i guess,” he gives a breathy laugh.

“what for? i didn’t do anything.”

marco put a hand on her shoulder while he smiles, ignoring the fact that she cannot see.

“mikasa,” he starts, “jean’s a lot happier because of you.”

“oh,” she blinks, “i didn’t do anything. if anything, it’s the opposite. he helped me accept and love myself even though i was blind. he guided me.”

marco laughs, “mikasa, while he may have guided you and your hands, you guided him into becoming a better person. he was so lonely and sad before you. he would have one night stands a lot of the time just so he wouldn’t have to sleep alone. his sketchbooks used to be so gloomy and bitter before you and now his sketchbook radiates life. there are so many sketches of you and the people around him, and he hadn’t done that since sophomore year of high school. he paints with light colors instead of the gloomy grey’s and blue’s he used to paint with. he’s so comfortable and content with you, and i’ve never seen him act that way with another person besides myself. he loves you, mikasa.”

mikasa feels herself crying at the speech. ever since mikasa was little, she always felt out of place, even with eren and armin. they were so vibrant and passionate to the point where mikasa could barely comprehend it. mikasa felt she had never made an impact of anyone, not even eren.

in high school, kids would whisper about her in the hall. she always acted unbothered but late at night she would cry silently under her blanket. mikasa never thought of herself as special, even if she was blind. mikasa often felt ashamed of herself for so many reasons; her lack of passion, lack of speech, lack of emotion, and her blindness. she often felt suffocated by the coddling and unsaid expectations eren’s dad left on her shoulders.

when she met jean, it was a breath of fresh air. someone treated her normally and would make her feel free. she felt like she fit in with jean, that he didn’t think she was weird for flaws. she asked him about it once, and he replied that when he said he loves her, he meant her flaws as well. jean made her feel special yet normal at the same time. he never let her lack of sight become a hinderance, instead guiding her with his hands and his voice.

to find out she impacted the person who changed her whole world made her emotional and happy beyond belief. she was also bewildered at the discovery because not once had she impacted someone to her knowledge.

“oh my god! i’m so sorry, i-i didn’t mean to make yoy cry!!!” marco’s freaking out and mikasa doesn’t need sight to know that all eyes are on her.

“mikasa?! what’s wrong?!” eren’s booming voice fills her ears.

“just happy,” she sobs and rubs away her tears.

“hey babe, i got a thin blanket so it might not warm you up too mu— what happened?!!” mikasa hear’s jean’s voice getting closer.

“i’m okay,” she sniffles, but jean ignores her and pulls her onto her feet. it has vanilla following behind.

jean leads her further from the group, stuttering out apologies as if he had done anything wrong. when he stops, he turns around and cups mikasa’s damp cheeks and kisses her nose.

“what’s wrong? what happened? are you okay,” he worries, voice cracking.

“i just,” her own sob cuts her off, “marco told me that i guided you into changing a-and i’ve just never had a-an impact on anyone.”

jean relaxes with a sigh, kissing her softly on the lips.

“he’s not wrong, you’ve impacted me in a way i can’t explain. i’m also sure that you’ve impacted so many people, you just don’t know it. you are so special,” he smile fondly, wiping away her tears.

“you make me feel special,” she laughs through her tears, “and i’ve never felt that, and you know that.”

he hums while he nods.

“cause, again, you are special. my special girl,” he murmurs to her right before he kisses her.

“you’re special because you guided me in the right direction of happiness,” he mumbles against her lips.

“ditto,” mikasa gives a small smile, “thank you for guiding me.”

[idga-buck]

Some and Others, 3/?

Earth’s mightiest heroes save the city again, but that’s never the end of the story.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4,301

Content: canon typical violence, death, destruction, swearing

Bucky was going to call. He just didn’t. He was surprised you hadn’t and overwhelmingly disappointed that it meant if he was going to apologize, it was a conversation he’d have to initiate himself. It could wait though. Just a little longer while he figured out what he wanted to say.

A week later, the Post ran a story about the same gossip site that had leaked your photo of him being shut down after many of their stories and photos were found to be fake. A rarity for the world of journalism these days, Sam noted casually as they stopped at a newspaper cart. Bucky bought a couple candy bars and watched the man with the thick black mustache and the gold chain slip copies of the article in front of a few of his worst sellers. Could he actually be that lucky? It was an easy out after a week of dodging questions and trying to remind the world to stay out of his business.

“So that photo of you? The secret girlfriend?” Sam waited for Bucky to respond, but when the centenarian opted to buy a Pay Day instead, he watched closer. Bucky hated that. Sam said he had a staring problem, but Sam was the one with x-Ray vision. He could read people, read a room, read Steve’s body language from across a battlefield and adjust his position without being told. As annoyed as Bucky acted when paired up with Sam Wilson, he was one of the few people in this century that Bucky Barnes respected. Truly. Except for that moment on a street corner when brown eyes were scanning his complete lack of guts and deciding what was worth commenting on.

“Yeah,” Bucky ripped open the wrapper a little too aggressively and responded with peanuts between his teeth. “It wasn’t real.”

Sam nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets while Bucky stuffed his face. “I don’t know how you land the fake girlfriend story, when I’m right here,” they started walking away from the stand while Sam jabbered on. “And lookin’ as fine as I do? Come on, man,” he danced ahead of Bucky a few steps, forcing him to look up. “You know this would make a better story.”

Before Bucky could say anything, a loud crash echoed between the buildings. Nothing was visible from their block, but both men, trained for combat, were instantly on alert.

“That for us?” Sam asked, eyeing the busy intersection.

“No,” said Bucky, a clipped tone in his voice as he shook his head and started walking again.

Another crash, this time accompanied by the faint human noises that usually follow tragedy.

“You sure about that?” Sam’s eyebrow shot up.

Sirens from every kind emergency response vehicle blared in the distance, growing louder then quieter again as they wove their way through the streets, changing directions to avoid traffic.

Bucky pointed at a passing fire truck, waiting until it had turned down another street before speaking. “See? They got it.”

Then Sam’s phone rang and Bucky swore, planting his hands on his hips while whoever was on the other line confirmed that the emergency growing in the distance was in fact for them. Sam placed the call on speaker and gave their current location. Stark’s voice was muffled and metallic, the way it usually was while calling from inside his fancy helmet, but he told them to stay put as he did a fly by with Sam’s equipment.

“Tell the Tin Man he’s got a special delivery,” Tony informed them from somewhere overhead.

“They're your wings,” Bucky grumbled, looking up from the ground as the familiar glare of Iron Man’s thrusters came into view. “And your robot.”

“First of all,” Sam informed him. “Red Wing isn’t a robot. He’s a drone.”

“It,” Bucky corrected, “is a robot.”

“I’m gonna tell him you said that,” said Sam before pointing up to where Iron Man had doubled back to get a better angle. “And… unlike some of us present, my body is exactly as God created it, flesh and bone.”

“Pop up, deep center,” Tony’s voice rang out obnoxiously through Sam’s phone once more.

Bucky watched a black bundle falling from the sky, trying to position himself under it and pushing more than one pedestrian out of his way to do so. “Actually, I was a catcher back in ‘32.”

“THEN CATCH!” Sam hollered just before the EXO Falcon gear landed square in Bucky’s chest, forcing him off his feet and onto his ass, skidding to a stop on a sidewalk while the people around them scattered, gasping and grabbing at their phones to take pictures of the two Avengers. Bucky laid flat on his back, both arms still wrapped around the bundle, and took a deep breath when Sam stood over his head, arms shooting out to his sides as he yelled “SAFE!”

Bucky groaned and tossed the black bag up into Sam’s arms, hard enough to make him stumble but not enough to knock him down. “Should have said ‘out.’” Bucky grumbled and Sam chuckled as he dug through the bag for his equipment. “Safe makes it sound like I-”

“You really wanna argue about baseball right now,” Sam laughed, securing his wings over his torso and releasing them both with a flash as if stretching before a fight. “Or are we gonna go save the world?” Bucky didn’t answer, just took off running in the direction of the screams. “That’s what I’m talking about,” said Sam to himself, shooting up into the air.

…

Robots. Drones. Whatever they, Bucky Barnes has decided that he hates them.

Fighting Nazis was easy. Not physically. Not when your gun isn’t really yours and the food sucks and you’re almost as worried about losing your toes as you are losing your team. But it made sense. These men in their wool coats wanted innocent deaths. Something in Bucky that had been there all along was born anew in the war. He was a protector. Of his sisters, of Steve, of his country. It made sense.

Nothing about Hydra made sense and the therapist he stopped seeing told him it was okay to think about those years differently than the rest. So he did.

When T’challa presented him with a black vibranium canon for his left side, the enemy was otherworldly. Literally. They didn’t bleed like men. They made horrible screeching noises when they died, but even that was different from me. They rode disgusting creatures with teeth that could have scratched his arm if he’d let them get close enough. They were invaders, their leader sought destruction on an even greater scale than the War. Bucky was a protector again, protector of Earth, of life in the universe. An unimaginable title for the boy he’d been, sitting in front of the radio with his family and marveling at the president's voice. It’s not like he was eager to do it again, but space invaders whose goal was universal genocide would be met with the business end of Bucky’s favorite rifle.

Fighting robots, however, was fucked up.

Bucky was still processing his new life, still getting used to the idea that people carried plastic cards in their wallets and could pull money out of the walls with just a few buttons. There were movie theaters with screens two stories high. Cars plugged into the sides of hotels. The cell phone in his pocket was overwhelming as is. In a few minutes, he could buy all the clothes he’d ever need, pay for dinner, and talk to people across the country. It was baffling.

All this technology, all this progress, and of course there were people who weaponized it. Bucky hated that. He remembered science fairs, remembered Howard Stark’s big promises. There was so much hope in him as a young man. He’d live to drive a flying car, his children would learn about the world through a holograms in their livingroom, his grandchildren would live on the moon. The possibilities were endless. So much so that people with horrible intentions for the world also believed that the possibilities were endless, forcing Bucky into his current position.

His thighs were wrapped around the base of a machine, arms wound near the top. He threw his shoulders back with all of his might, squeezing his legs in the process, and didn’t stop until the metal gave way. Bucky fell onto the pavement with his own momentum, the enemy in two pieces with wires exposed and frizzling as they died. He dropped the robot and rolled to his side, observing the scene around him. Steve used a cleaner approach and sent his shield flying through the air. Three more bots’ were sliced in two, the last of which was pinned by the shield into the side of a brick building. Sam circled above, with Redwing swooping below to draw laser fire away from bystanders while Wanda tried her best to herd them away, spinning to throw angry red energy at anything that came their direction.

“Sergeant Barnes!” The familiar and overly excited voice of the kid in blue and red spider gear startled Bucky. The kid swung in unexpectedly, decked out and ready to help. Bucky didn’t care that he was probably skipping school to do so and swung his vibranium arm behind him, the metal of another droid crunching under his elbow. “How can I help?”

Bucky squinted, a little dumbfounded at the question. There was a six block radius being overrun with droids, drones, robots- whatever- and people were terrified. “Pick something,” he grunted, taking the robot's head… top part, between his hands and twisting until it gave way and the bottom half dropped powerless to the ground.

Just then the sound of metal screeching pulled both their eyes to a city bus being thrown around like it was weightless, crunching the vehicles nearby, and sending more people into a frenzy as buildings were still evacuating onto the street. “That! Pick that!” Bucky commanded and the kid flew away, attached to a white string like a kite. Two more robots were approaching from the sidewalk, red eyes glowing and ready to fire. Bucky looked around the street for something, anything that he could use before deciding on a minivan. The windows looked clear, driver and passengers already scampering away at the first sign of trouble, so Bucky planted his boot into the back door and kicked. The door caved in and the vehicle flipped onto its side before skidding to a halt on the sidewalk and crushing the robots beneath it.

“Uh! MISTER BARNES, SIR, SARGE-!”

Bucky turned back to look at Peter, propped up on a light pole and leaning so far back his body was almost parallel to the ground. The only thing keeping him upright was the two thick white webs attached to the bus, one at the front and one at the back. It was tipping over dangerously low, trapping a small group of people between the bus and two buildings, one that had smoke billowing out the windows. This was a mess.

Bucky ran through the street, jumping onto the hoods of abandoned cars to avoid weaving between them before leaping off an SUV and rolling back into a run on the sidewalk. A laser struc Peter, knocking him clean off his perch, and the webs supporting the bus went dangerously slack as it started tipping toward the trapped people again. Bucky jumped, wedging himself between the building and the collapsing bus with great effort. His shoulders dug into the brick behind him and his thighs burned as he shoved the bus away from the wall, gritting his teeth as he felt it slowly start to tip away from the ground. The kid was now on the ground somewhere out of sight and Bucky had to hold back from sending the vehicle flying, lest he squash Stark’s favorite spider in the process. The tension in his legs grew as he held it steady, adjusting his feet and shoulders until he felt it wasn’t going anywhere.

“Hey!” He called out to the people below him. “Get out of here, go!”

There were rushed thank yous and lots of tears as the crowd dispersed from their trapped position. But one voice stood out among them and it made Bucky’s heart speed up.

“Bucky?! Oh my god, BUCKY!”

Bucky’s eyes were closed under the strain, but he’d know your voice anywhere. He opened them just in time to see Peter recover and zip off in a new direction. Bucky released his breath and shoved his feet out hard, tipping the bus back. He dropped from the wall and grabbed you as the bus wobbled precariously in both directions before finally falling into traffic and directly onto the roof of an empty red sports car.

Bucky hadn’t realized how tight he was holding you until you said his name again and the word was broken. His arms relaxed a bit, but you made no move to run away… or let go of his jacket. The two of you just stared at each other, breathing heavily, before screaming drew your eyes away. The small crowd of people you’d been stuck with were running away from where you stood, but the two in the back collapsed, their bodies charred and heavy as they hit the ground. You screamed then and Bucky pulled your back into his chest, hugging your stomach as you keeled over. He’d seen so much death in his hundred odd years, it was hard to witness it with these fresh eyes. You weren’t prepared to watch two innocent people’s skin melting under lasers. Hell, neither was Bucky and while you cried in his arms, the smell of burning flesh stung his eyes. He’d never get over that smell, no matter how many world wars he participated in. His face was buried in the back of your head, shushing you as he lifted you up. He took careful backwards steps until you were both hidden in the same alley you’d just been trapped in. Bucky looked up at the burning building and decided he had a minute before you were both in danger here.

“Hey,” he said softly when you went limp against his chest. “Hey now,” he repeated, spinning and almost dropping you when he realized you hadn’t just relaxed… you were unconscious. “Shit,” Bucky dropped to his knees and let your body lean up against his chest, slapping at your cheeks and calling your name to try and wake you up. Half of your face was red with blood from a wound he couldn’t see somewhere in your hair. Break up or no break up, he couldn’t leave you like this. Any other person, he’d run them to safety and double back to continue clearing the streets. But this wasn’t any person. It was the girl he dumped in the middle of a restaurant and had continuously put off calling to explain himself. He hadn’t gotten the chance to clear the air and leaving you to wake up in a few hours in the middle of a destroyed midtown was just too cruel. He did like you and now it felt like he owed you.

Bucky picked you up like a doll and slung you around to his back, crossing your arms over his chest as your legs dangled behind his knees. That wasn’t going to work, he decided after only a few steps. “Can you hold on a little-“ Bucky drifted off as he turned his face to see your face hidden behind him, your forehead limply resting against his shoulder. “Of course not,” he berated himself and stopped to adjust again. This time he stooped, grabbing one of your arms and one of your legs with his hands. You were slung over his shoulders like a backpack, the same way he carried goats in Wakanda, only much easier since you weren’t kicking or screaming and he had two hands with which to wrangle you.

His steady march out of the fray was interrupted once by Wanda. After directing pockets of people to safety, she’d sought out the source of the invasion. Bucky looked around for a safe place to stow your body and found an SUV that was abandoned but still running with the doors unlocked to lay you out across the backseat, carefully tucking your feet in before slamming the door behind him. He liked Wanda, despite not knowing what exactly she was capable of, but liked her a lot less when he found himself immersed in a glowing red forcefield and being lifted into the sky. When he was forced through the large glass window of another building only to look up and find her floating gently through the hole his body had created, she shrugged.

“This way was faster,” she said, Sokovian accent much softer than their first meeting.

“Right,” Bucky groaned, making a mental note of how many Avengers could zip through the air with ease and the odds of being the one she found on the ground.

They raced up the final set of stairs and Bucky ripped the maintenance door to the roof off its hinges. It was unlucky that Bucky and Wanda had been the ones to find the bastard responsible. If it had been Steve, he’d been bound and handed over to the authorities. Tony might have thrown him in armored vehicle and shook him around a bit before demanding answers. Bruce… depending on the day wouldn’t have been much better. Nat would have gotten answers easier than either of them and Sam was easily the most noble of the bunch, so Bucky had no idea what he’d do. The right thing, whatever that was. But Wanda wasn’t particularly fond of people who harmed innocent people. The motivation didn’t much matter to her when the sounds of children crying could be heard in the streets. Bucky didn’t have much grace for people who were smart enough to help, but broken enough to hurt. Like the bastards in Hydra, who healed him, kept him alive, gave him extraordinary strength then weaponized him. Anyone who had this level of technological advancement and chose to bring destruction with it was a waste of air. Wanda hoisted the man up into one of her angry red orbs while Bucky broke the control panel into as many pieces as he could, destroying anyone else’s opportunity to learn from this guy. Neither of them had anticipated this guy to be so well armed. It looked like a pistol, but whatever it fired managed to get through Wanda’s energy field and pierce her shoulder, breaking her focus just enough for him to drop back onto the roof. He took off running to the edge and leapt, but Wanda recovered faster, using her powers to yank him back. Bucky caught him in the air and squeezed, locking the man in a painful hold until he noticed glowing red numbers counting down behind the man’s neck. Shit.

“Bucky!” Wanda pointed at the man’s hands, wrapped threateningly around a plunger that could only mean one thing.

Without a better option, Bucky turned back to edge. He released the man and as he tried to stumble forward, Bucky’s boot landed square against his sacrum, launching the man through the air and into a neighboring building in a ball of fire. Both Avengers watched the corner offices go up in flames, disgust and horror in both their eyes.

“The whole block was evacuated,” Wanda said softly and Bucky nodded. There was a distinct lack of screaming coming from the direction of the building and sirens soon flooded the streets below as first responders made their way into critical areas. From the ledge, both of them watched as the remaining bots dropped to the ground before their team, disengaging en masse. Steve looked up from atop a bodega and saluted the sky in their general direction, lifting the shield as a second acknowledgment before jumping down to the street to start… whatever Captain America does once the threat has been neutralized. The PR and clean up stuff wasn’t Bucky’s scene and he turned away, making it all the way across the roof, still observing the scene below, before remembering that you were somewhere, either still unconscious or just waking up, deeply confused in the back of a stranger’s car.

“You okay?” Bucky asked, wanting to make sure before asking Wanda for any favors.

She pulled her hand away from her shoulder, black nail polish and red blood looking menacing and downright witchy against her pale fingers. “I’ll be alright,” she assured him, eyes already glowing red as she prepared to offer more aid.

Bucky stopped her and nodded over the side of the building. “Gimme a lift?”

She snorted and waved her fingers without looking at him and soon enough, Bucky found himself falling on his ass once again. He needed to work on his dismount if this was going to become a regular pairing. Thankfully or maybe not, you were trying to wake up as Bucky slipped into the driver’s seat and commandeered the vehicle. He turned back to watch you whine in pain as you tried to sit up, before slipping back into sleep when he told you to stay down. You were in and out for most of the drive, which helped Bucky weave up and over curbs to avoid stagnant areas where everyone had abandoned their cars out of fear.

…

You woke up with a headache, exasperated by the bright lights of the emergency room. Bucky could see the moment you came to by the hard squinting that melted into a grimace. You’d had a couple false starts, but when your eyes opened and locked on his, Bucky knew it was the real deal this time. He stood to pull back the curtain and immediately a nurse was shimmying her way into your space, brushing her chest against Bucky’s in the process. He nodded and gave her a tight smile. It had been like that since he walked into the ER with you. Avengers carrying blacked out civilians get a lot of attention, but they also get speedy service. Which is what Bucky told himself when he stuck around once you’d been admitted. You’d get better care if he stayed with you, so he did. Feet propped up on the end of your bed and dropping whenever someone came to run another test. He wasn’t family and didn’t claim to be, so they told him nothing, but nurses managed to smile flirtatiously in between doing their job. In another life, Bucky would have… done something. Anything. He smiled. He was a hundred, not dead, but there was something off putting about receiving these looks when you were asleep right there between hanging curtains in an overrun hospital as ambulances and families started to arrive from the mess he’d just left.

You answered their questions slowly, but correctly. Your name, where you were, what year it is, who the president is. The doctor would be in soon and Bucky took the minute of alone time to scoot the chair they’d brought in for him. You were watching him expectantly as the legs scraped across the floor, just a few inches before he could reach a hand out to yours. You looked down curiously at your hand in Bucky’s.

“They spelled my name wrong,” you murmured and Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut as you lifted your joined hands to observe the little plastic bracelet closer. He shook his head, wanting to apologize, but also hoping you wouldn’t connect the dots that he’d given them your information incorrectly. “Bucky?” He looked up to find your eyes wider than usual, a little more vulnerable than he was used to seeing you and wanted to do something to make you feel better. But like the entirety of your relationship, he had no idea how to do that.

“You’re okay,” he nodded, telling himself as much as he was telling you.

“Thank you,” you squeezed his fingers as your voice shook.

Just then a man in a white coat, pushed back the curtain and Bucky stood reflexively, dropping your hand in the process. He turned back and saw your face fall before crossing your arms over your chest and looking away from him.

“Sergeant Barnes,” the doctor addressed him first.

“Bucky,” he corrected without thinking and turned his body, opening up the room a bit and directing attention back to what mattered. The patient. You.

“Thank you for bringing her in,” the doctor continued, then looked back and forth between the two of you. “We’ve got it from here, if you need to-”

“He can stay,” you piped up. The doctor asked if you were sure, but you were. The doctor nodded, turning fully toward the bed and while that was Bucky’s goal, he now felt completely out of place in the tiny space.

“First things first,” the doctor started. “You and the baby are just fine, so I don’t want you worrying about that at all. Do you have a OB or a-”

Bucky stopped listening at that moment and focused on the roaring ocean in his ears. He looked to the bed where you were listening intently to what the doctor was saying, nodding and shaking your head mechanically. While he stared, you stole a glance in his direction. Your face was blank and he didn’t spend much time trying to read it.

“This sounds personal,” he said, voice flat and vibranium hand already reaching for the curtain at the end of your bed. “Take care.” Without sparing another look, Bucky walked through the busy emergency room with his left hand tucked into his front pocket, making him invisible to anyone who didn’t know he was there.

A/N: Here we go! It’s happening. I’m not sold on the way this ended but it was getting long as is and don’t worry, Bucky will have his chance to make it up to you.

Tags: @fangirl-swagg @learisa

[elwenyere]

Deck the Halls

(Steve/Tony fluff, in which the Avengers make their own holiday decorations, and it goes about as well as you would expect)

Also on AO3

“Okay,” Tony said, “I am willing to admit that putting repulsors on the Iron Man ornaments was not my best idea.”

He paused to duck as a pillow, half a molasses crinkle, and what looked suspiciously like a tranquilizer dart flew at him from three different locations in the Avengers common room.

“But I maintain,” he continued from behind the couch, “that the underlying principle of the design is both technologically sound and aesthetically adorable. Also, refs, can I get a rule check on ‘no using knock-out techniques on your teammates’?”

“If I wanted you knocked out, you’d be dreaming of sugar plums right now,” Natasha called out from somewhere behind a makeshift barricade of packages and wrapping-paper rolls. One of the tiny Iron Men buzzed over her head, sending a barrage of dime-sized repulsor blasts at a Rudolph gift bag, and Natasha shot the ornament out of the air with her Widow’s Bites.

“Also, calling in the refs is a pretty bold move,” Bruce added, “considering that the miniature murder bots guarding our Christmas tree are in flagrant violation of rules ten through fifteen.”

Bruce’s voice was slightly distorted by the walls of his blanket fort, which Steve had suggested building as an anti-Hulking measure when the first wave of ornaments flew off their branches and into attack formation. So far the strategy had proved successful, with only one close call after Thor almost collided with the fort during an enthusiastic mid-air tackle.

“Remind me never to do holiday dinners with you guys again,” Rhodey groaned. He was crouched next to Tony behind the couch opposite Steve’s, and Steve could hear the faint whir of the War Machine gauntlet as he scanned the room. “I could be falling asleep on my couch to the Vince Guaraldi Trio, and instead I’m hiding from an army of weaponized Christmas figurines.”

“When you’re subpoenaed for the inevitable senate hearing about this, just remember: it was all Steve’s fault,” Tony advised.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Steve replied, adding an eye roll that he knew Tony would hear in his voice.

It was true that Steve had been the one to suggest that they make their own decorations for the Tower this year. But it was also true that Steve’s contribution (a hand-drawn series of family holiday cards to hang on the fridge) had been the only one that hadn’t tended to produce chaos. Thor and Natasha’s idea to braid garlands had started out innocently enough. But then they’d decided to add “motivational mead” to the creative process. Ten hours later, they’d produced so many strings of spruce, holly, and taffeta that the garlands had to be looped around every available surface, twisting around lamps and chair legs until the common room looked like it was being slowly strangled to death by a festive boa constrictor. Bruce – in a complete failure to learn from the previous Halloween’s Saltwater Taffy Incident – had concocted a spiced eggnog so addictively good that each new batch he made disappeared almost immediately – setting off a cycle of recrimination and dairy-based hoarding. And Clint had stayed true to form by making an extremely explicit, themed pin-up calendar of himself, which had been quickly banned from all common areas by a 4-2 vote (“I think these poses are courageous,” Thor had explained, “considering your very small human sizes”).

“Blame is assigned by the survivors, Stark,” Natasha said evenly. Her face darted into view at one end of her barricade, next to a box wrapped in “Hulk Smash!” paper. “And if we don’t get these ornaments contained before Bruce’s chocolate pecan pie has to come out of the oven, I can’t guarantee that anyone in this room will qualify.”

“How many left, JARVIS?” Tony asked.

“Just three, sir,” the crisp voice replied. “And my sensors indicate they are all locked in a standoff with the large stuffed hedgehog on the lower floor.”

“Do I have to ask?” Rhodey muttered.

“It’s for Pepper,” Tony explained, “a running gag: she thinks it’s hilarious.”

“We should set a trap to draw out the remaining ornaments,” Steve decided. “I want eyes on the perimeter – where the hell is Clint anyway?”

As if on cue, a grappling arrow shot across the room and latched onto the side of a container of eggnog. The metal wire attached to the hook pulled taut and then retracted with a sharp twang, yanking the eggnog over their heads and back into the air vent.

“You have a problem, man!” Rhodey yelled after Clint’s feet as they slithered away from the opening in the ducts. “Get help!”

“Ah that gives me an idea!” Thor exclaimed. He popped his head up from behind the kitchen counter, where he had apparently been braiding one of the garlands into his hair. “The tiny Iron Soldiers seem determined to guard the spirit of the holidays. Perhaps we can use that to our advantage.”

“Right,” Tony agreed, “cover me.”

He stood up and strode toward the Christmas tree, gauntlet charging.

“Come out, my tiny, murderous robot sons,” Tony called, “or I’m going to turn your favorite tree into a pile of toothpicks.”

“Did you actually equip them with audio sensors? Or are you just grandstanding?” Rhodey asked.

“Kind of stepping on my moment here, Gumdrop,” Tony replied.

And whether it was because the ornaments had somehow sensed a threat to the tree or because they had successfully subdued all the stuffed animals in the vicinity, Steve’s ears suddenly picked up the low whine that meant hostile décor was incoming. As Tony held his position, Steve saw Natasha, Rhodey, and Thor leap out from cover and take aim at the three diminutive Iron Men that were shooting toward their creator’s head.

“Tony!” Steve yelled, and Tony let out a small yelp of surprise as Steve tackled him sideways onto the couch. Steve curled his body protectively around Tony’s, and he threw up his shield just in time to shelter them from the disintegrated ornaments, which fell like a shower of harmless glitter into a halo around their heads.

Steve cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks flush slightly as a chunk of armor the size of a pea pattered onto the couch next to them with a barely audible fizzle.

“My hero,” Tony smirked.

“A bit overdramatic, Rogers,” Thor observed.

“Ooooooh, Captain America!” Clint called in a high-pitched voice from a nearby vent. “You’re so dreamy. Will you sign my chest?”

A chorus of boos and a smattering of tossed cookies followed Clint’s laughing retreat back through the ducts.

“So I’m thinking the Mark II ornaments should come with a fail-safe button,” Tony mused, looking up at Steve with his head still resting in the crook of Steve’s arm.

“Tony,” Steve sighed.

“What?” Tony asked with exaggerated innocence. “I have models for the whole team. There’s even a little Cap ornament with magnets for the hug and fly.”

Steve chewed his bottom lip.

“Are you trying not to smile?” Tony asked.

“I’m trying to contain my disapproval,” Steve replied.

“You’re trying not to smile,” Tony confirmed. “Let it out, Steve. I’m objectively delightful.”

“You’re objectively a threat to national security,” Steve retorted.

“Yeah, and you love it,” Tony nodded. “That’s like…your number one turn on.”

Steve finally allowed a smile to spread across his face. In the part of his mind that was always scanning his periphery, he was aware of Natasha helping Bruce out of his blanket fort and picking a piece of lint out of his hair – her hand lingering a little longer than necessary as Bruce assured her he had a backup pie in the fridge. Rhodey and Thor were loudly concocting plans to smoke Clint out (and pointedly ignoring Clint’s own contributions from the vent above them). And in the center, as always, was Tony, who was grinning victoriously as he took in Steve’s expression.

“You’re right,” Steve told him. “I do love you.”

Tony's smile froze in momentary surprise and then softened.

“This is how you want to say that for the first time?” he asked teasingly, his hands coming up to brush at Steve’s sides just above the hem of his jeans. “On the couch, surrounded by our catcalling friends and the scorched remains of the homicidal holiday ornaments I created?”

“Yep,” Steve answered, leaning down to kiss Tony’s forehead. “I love that you make messes,” a kiss on the right cheek, “I love that you invite messes to move in,” a kiss on the left cheek, “I love that since I met you, you’ve made every mess of mine your mess too,” a final kiss – as gentle as Steve could make it – on Tony’s lips. “I love you, Tony.”

He pulled back so he could look into Tony’s eyes and watch the rapid play of emotion across his face – always too fast to track.

“I love you too, you big sap,” Tony replied, and as the team whooped and set off a round of Christmas crackers, he pulled Steve back down by the front of his Iron Man sweater.

[rockmiyabideusexmachina]

2021 Megaman Valentine’s Day Contest Results

Among the many things this past year or so has tested us with is delays, and I apologize that this year’s Valentine’s Day contest results are included in that. I certainly did not plan on this taking until March to get completed, and I am sincerely sorry to have kept you all waiting. But hopefully it is all worth the wait!!

Thanks once again to every single one of you who participated! I will be contacting the winners soon enough. Work will probably keep me from replying to everyone immediately, but I will send a message about prizes hopefully within 24 hours.

Also, my thanks to @subzeroiceskater​ for helping out with judging this year. Not to mention the promo pic above and other assorted bonuses that always bring me a big smile. I might say this seemingly every year, but you all made judging this VERY hard. It might have something to do with the themes as well, but I think both of us flipped and rearranged our rankings repeatedly, and even then, it was hard to decide on who would place. XD Each one of you did an amazing job!

After the break, you’ll see the winners for both categories, along with all of the entries. Raffle prize winners will be noted below by their alias, as well.

Category 1: Kiss From a Rosered (Talent)

For our talent category this year, the theme focused on your favorite Megaman characters giving roses to their special someone, along with incorporating the symbolism of specific rose colors within the piece. That rose color was also to be the predominant color within the piece, to the best of your ability.

A grand total of 9 entries were submitted for this category. You can see the full gallery of all entries at full-size [HERE]. Each entrant’s name will also link to their individual pieces at full-size.

1.) Sapphire: *$100 prize*

Subzeroiceskater said:

Oooooh, this is so cute and pink! Piiink~ Ehem. I love the depth, angle, and color grading of these—notice how Roll’s black linework is at the forefront of the pic but colors mixes with the lights and colors from the sun further along the pic. There’s a lot to admire about how everything easy to read with so many competing elements like the similar hues and bright lighting.

Pink roses usually mean a gentler sort of love but did you know that different shades of pink could signify different things as well? A darker shade may mean gratitude; medium shade could be about a first love or congratulations while a light shade may mean admiration. Tron holding a singular pink rose with varying shades of pink while literally tripping over herself and a Servbot could only mean—that this is hilarious.

Miyabi said:

From a technical standpoint, I think your piece clearly felt the most polished, crisp and virtually professional of the bunch. But more than that, I felt it also best gave off the vibe of the rose color dominating the piece, but in very subtle, beautiful ways. Where as the pink sunset causes many of the normally white areas, like Roll’s collar/sleeves, parts of Gustaff, and more, to ooze that pink lighting. Even with her klutziness, you still also portrayed the feeling of sweetness, admiration and appreciation that a pink rose conveys. Just so pretty, calming, and joyful to look at!

2.) Forceway: *$75 prize*

Subzeroiceskater said:

There is a sort of gentle irony with how Skull Man and Shade Man are both robots modeled after horror symbols—skulls and vampires—but are here surrounded by a soft sea of pink roses. The dark night is often depicted as a primal fear because it hides our deepest fears but here—illuminated by the bright shining moon—the night is transformed into a scene of love—perhaps devotion, with how Shade is gently cradling Skull, as well with the church bell in the background. This is a very tender piece mixing the shadows and the sweet.

Miyabi said:

I know most digital art programs have the brushes and shortcuts to make detailing things like roses a lot easier, but your bed of roses certainly look all done by hand on your own, and that alone impressed me a ton! Based off of the Ariga Megamix tale of Skull Man not feeling appreciated or having a family after Cossack stored him away, I felt the pink roses and Shade showing him that he is actually appreciated here was a fantastic conceptual choice. Purples in the sky and Shade’s body split the canvas and contrast with the pink well, including how you used the pink for some of the stars in the sky. Beautiful job!

3.) DigitallyFanged: *$50 prize*

Subzeroiceskater said:

Yellow is a bright color, often evoking the sun, warmth, light, joy and hope. With roses, its positive connotations continue with possible meanings of friendship, care and remembrance. Tabby’s piece seems to evoke the last one the strongest—with Zero, broken and forgotten in a lab—but, not entirely, because of a bond that is stronger than apparent death lives on—even if in this moment, it’s only a memory. Even the roses are not real—just projections of what was once alive. This is fantastic use contrast with the dark, moody blues against the vivid, almost defiant yellows; and the repeated little motifs such as X crying and the water drops falling all over Zero. It stands out from the rest of happy entries with how sad it is but it still manages to be hopeful.

Miyabi said:

Zero’s blonde locks certainly are an iconic part of his design, so playing off of that and focusing on yellow as your rose color fit perfectly. You definitely made this a very emotive piece considering technically, neither of these two are even alive and moving here! As mentioned above, the little details like the water droplets balancing against Cyber Elf X’s tears, the digital lines to make it appear like X has created the cyber-roses for Zero, and Zero’s battle damage caught my eye immediately. You certainly captured the yellow rose symbolism of remembrance and friendly affection beautifully!!

And the rest of the wonderful entries, in alphabetical order by alias:

AbilityField: [Page 1] [Page 2] [Page 3] [Page 4]

*Raffle Prize Winner* Captain N Mega Man Cel

Subzeroiceskater said:

It’s so poetic about how this contest theme is about how the language of flowers is used to communicate feelings beyond just using words; and so, the comic is completely silent, relying on actions to convey its meaning. Yellow roses could mean friendship, care and affection; and it’s shown wonderfully with how Iris and Lan are so thoughtful with one another. It’s so cute how Iris missed Lan only because he was already out buying roses for her. Given how hard comics are to make and how this is fully colored, I really wanted to give this first place—however I felt the color usage of yellow could have been stronger, especially with the last page, where it would have had the most impact. I had to squint and zoom out to even see if the lighting had changed. Still, it’s such a very warm and lovely work.

Miyabi said:

I always appreciate the effort people put into making multiple-page comics for these contests, and this is no exception! Even without dialogue, you did a great job at conveying your story through your art in each panel and it was easily understandable. Another utilizing the yellow rose, I certainly felt the friendship and warmth in your tale. As Subzero mentioned, the only thing keeping it from placing was that the yellow colors weren’t as dominant in other areas of the pic, besides the panel by Sal. Still, your coloring was very crisp and vibrant throughout each page, and it was an awesome submission!

aw-colorcat:

Subzeroiceskater said:

With the red for Metal Man, orange for Cut Man and the explosion of yellow flowers, that’s the trifecta of warm colors. Yellow roses could mean delight and this pic is delightful in all ways. Cut looks so cute practically swimming in the sea of flowers and greenery, as does Metal’s adorable expression—which is a feat since he only shows his eyes. I also really like the juxtaposition and balance of this piece from: the rust-brown car against green-yellow nature running wild, and Metal holding a bouquet meanwhile Cut’s covered with plants. It makes me want to get some fresh air myself!

Miyabi said:

Cut Man looks grateful for being able to ride in that pickup bed of flowers, and I have a feeling the two of them had a wonderful time just snipping and sawing away at all the stems to gather them all. XD Love how the yellow and oranges play off of both character’s color schemes nicely. The subtlety of the yellow flowers in the foreground, along with the sun and tree in the background all play off each other well, too! Just an absolutely cute pic!

Dark-Dullahan: 

Subzeroiceskater said: 

What a fantastic composition. Dark-Dullahan does away with most color, leaving the colors of the mixed-bouquet roses as the main focal point. Classic red for romance, a gentler pink for affection, mixed yellow roses to signify caring and probably so much more—seems like Nana can’t contain her feelings for Massimo. I love how the close up of the bouquet doesn’t just form a kind of heart at the top but serves as the divider between the two, like a diptych. With such a wonderful offering, Massimo would surely accept her feelings.

Miyabi said: 

As you brought to my attention, your mixed bouquet had a few different meanings, such as the dark pink representing thanks to Massimo for saving Nana from Silver Horn, and the red tips on the yellow roses to symbolize falling in love. Certainly got those vibes from her shy demeanor, as she sheepishly tries to hand them to him. Also agree with Subzero that the line from the bouquet nicely works as a way to separate them uniquely with the background. Sorry you weren’t able to complete it as fully as you had hoped, but the concept behind it certainly was strong!

Donnie:

Donnie also sent in an alternate version made during the creative process, in a different artistic style, that I still feel needs to be shared, as well. Fun to see the contrast, yet still have the same feeling and mood to the piece. 

Subzeroiceskater said:

Oh, I adore this one. It reminds me of a movie poster with the tagline. I love the extra PINK flourishes of the letterings like with the Mega Man logo color change and cute pixelated font and heart. Both Rock and Roll’s expressions are so cute, too—with his more subdued smile contrasted with her exuberant grin. Much like how the pink rose could mean many things like thoughtfulness, cheer or as a show of appreciation, this piece is positively sparkling with affection, hearts and all. It’s clever how the sunset is giving the picture an overall pinkish-red hue while having the yellow light as an outline. A darling piece.

Miyabi said:

With pink roses again, I truly liked the additional hue adjustments where you can feel the warmth and see the lighter pink mixed into their skintone, or areas normally of white - from eyes to teeth to the Megaman logo - that have taken on the pink in it’s place. With the painterly watercolor style you used, it all blends in nicely. Even in your earlier version, I feel you brought a strong game with the hues, but toned down the red from that version to make it feel much stronger towards pink, with a tighter crop of your canvas. It was fun to see how it evolved, and strengthened your piece in doing so! Fabulous job!

DragonMarquise:

Subzeroiceskater said:

No better way to show how madly in love you are than a bouquet of roses that run the gamut of—I can’t call these warm colors because these passions are running hot. Orange seems to be the dominant color here—which in roses could symbolize a love that’s passionate, fierce and deep. It’s also expressed nicely with the two lovers embracing, engaged in mid kiss, their bodies also forming a subtle heart shape, to emphasize the flurry of hearts around them. The bouquet is not just orange roses, however, but a mixed bouquet of the classic romantic red and the more affectionate pink—it’s a piece that’s bursting with all degrees of love.

Miyabi said:

You also certainly mastered the limited color pallette challenge as you tackled this piece! Orange, the color of passion, is certainly felt in their deep kiss and embrace. I too caught the heart shape their heads essentially form, which is then further enforced with the heart of hearts behind them. I thought that concept was pulled off very well. Perfect for the fiery intensity of Match, this turned out to be a very hot pic!

Mattasaurs:

Subzeroiceskater said:

This one has a very clever framing (eh? EH?). The color white is often associated with purity, innocence and hope, and with white roses—weddings and marriage. Sonia dons the classic white wedding dress which has a très élégante design—and the little Lyra on her belt is very cute. The pink background is also very romantic and a nice way to tie in with her theme colors. I dig the lovey-dovey feel of Geo doing the classic bridal carry while clasping a single white rose...but seeing the thorns, I think he better watch his hand!

Miyabi said:

For a theme emphasizing color within the pic, I salute you for taking the biggest challenge in choosing white. In many ways, it could have been the hardest to keep as a predominant color, but still make the pic interesting and visually appealing. Choosing to have the petals all around the frame, with the bouquet nearby was a clever touch. With white often used for weddings and new beginnings, I think the concept of your piece worked just right, where it was subtle, but still incorporated enough other color to give the piece some life. 

Category 2: Kawaii-rimi (Humor)

For our humor category this year, the theme focused on your favorite Megaman character gifting the plush form of another Megaman character to their crush, instantly created by a ninja-like character, to play off of the Kawarimi concept from the EXE series. 

With just 3 entries in our humor category this time around, every entrant placed. You can see the full gallery of all entries at full-size [HERE].  Each entrant’s name will also link to their individual pieces at full-size.

1.) Mattasaurs: *$100 prize*

Subzeroiceskater said: 

Y’know how blocks of wood are sometimes used by ninjas when they do that whole body switching thing? I think it’s clever how this pic has Sal—Woodman.exe’s operator—conjuring the doll. Everything about the pic is so fun and colorful: from Sal’s mischievous grin of accomplishment, Miyu being completely shocked by her chibi doppelganger (check out that body language!) and Masa’s confused expression.

Miyabi said:

Yes, while to some, Sal might not be the first one they think of when they think ninja in the Megaman Universe, but I certainly thought she still fits the bill in her design. Usually we don’t see this much emotion or shock out of Miyu, so seeing her torque her body, taken aback at a doll of herself, is amusing in it’s own right. Meanwhile, nothing fazes Masa. And a bit of randomness: oh man, seeing Masa’s head in profile, with his bandana...wow, I never realized how much his head shape with the bandana looks like a fish’s. I can’t unsee it now. Anyways, I also agree that the color, polish, and fun vibe made this a worthy winner!

2.) ColeManX: *$75 prize*

*Raffle Prize Winner* Captain N Cutsman Cel

Subzeroiceskater said:

E-Eyes? What did you mean by that, Mr. RT-55J?  Although judging from the sparkle on those booblights… I understand, Cinnamon—if that happened to me, I’d be making asides to the camera, like I was in “The Office”, too. Cinnamon’s enthusiastic smile with this whole bizarre scene really sells it for me but shoutout to Marino’s smug satisfaction in the background.

Miyabi said:

🎵 I kind of liked it your way How you shyly placed your eyes on me Did you ever know That I had mine on you?🎵

RT says it only has eyes for Cinny right now, but it’s also known to be a little grabby hands, so I don’t know if I’d fully trust it...but good thing this is just a plush version. Time for the tables to be turned, and Cinnamon to get her claws and paws on it, instead. Very cute, although after the DiVE V-Day event, we all know this is a ruse and your pal boobeyes only belongs to the Ferham Fanclub. XD

3.) Ronin-Apprentice: *$50 prize*

Subzeroiceskater said: 

This whole comic is so sweet and fluffy, nya!  ~(=^‥^)ノ☆ It’s adorable how Proto brings up his gift first and the surprise is how Shadow handmade his gift. The little cat-eared Blues design is so darling--almost as cute as him fussing how totally NOT a cat he is. “Did you steal my cat.” had me snorting. Now I’m wondering where Tango went off to…

Miyabi said:

FU-SION-HA! 

Aside from getting his own Super Adaptor, this is probably the closest we’ve got to seeing Tango and Blues merged as one. LOL I’m sure that plush would have a ton of fans wishing it actually existed. The panels where Blues embarrassingly hides behind his scarf and gets pet like a cat had me laughing! Very cute and adorable comic, that certainly had the most depth in terms of the theme of this category!

[elizabear]

my home is your body, how can I stay away?

I WROTE MY FIRST FIC. And I was brave enough to post it. So, if you want to read a fake-friends-to-real-lovers Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes post-Endgame AU where we pretend that Steve and Natasha are still alive and well in the 21st century, you can check it out below or read it on AO3.

Title: my home is your body, how can i stay away?

Rating: Explicit

Category: M/M

Relationship: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes (background Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanoff)

Additional tags: it’s like fake/pretend relationship, but it’s actually fake best friendship, fake friends to real lovers, post-Avengers Endgame, Epilogue What Epilogue, Natasha Romanoff Lives, Steve Rogers Stays, is everyone bi?, ambiguous barbershop quarter, bisexual Sam Wilson, bisexual Bucky Barnes, bisexual Steve Rogers, bisexual Natasha Romanoff, Captain America Sam Wilson

Words: 30,367

Link to AO3 here

Summary: "Anyway, I think if we team up, we can convince Steve that we’re best friends now. Then he’ll get jealous and remember how much more important we are to him than Natalia.”

Sam considers this carefully. He’s never been pressed so close to Bucky before, their faces only inches away from one another. From this distance Sam can see how long and thick Bucky’s eyelashes are. He can smell the pleasant scents of Bucky’s clean sweat and spicy aftershave. 

He wants to press his thumb into the cleft in Bucky’s chin.

“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea,” Sam hears himself say.

“Great!”

After they save the world, after Steve leaves and returns again with a smiling Natasha tucked tenderly underneath his arm, after all the happy and tearful reunions, after Tony Stark’s funeral, Sam Wilson takes a minute to sit his ass underneath a tree and freak the fuck out about the fact that he’s just been dead for the last five years.

He’s listening to a robot tell him for the fifth time that his mother’s number is “no longer in service,” his hand shaking as he presses redial on Steve’s borrowed cell phone. He wants to call his sister, wants to find out what happened to his niece, but he can’t remember his sister’s number and the only thing he can think of to do is just to keep calling his mom over and over again. He’s starting to really settle into the panic attack, gulping for air as his heart pounds wildly in his chest, when Bucky Barnes squats down beside him, perfectly balanced on those lean and powerful thighs.

“You OK?” Bucky asks quietly. Sam shakes his head silently, too overwhelmed to even begin to answer that question.

Like people are just OK after waking up five years in the future. Like people are just OK after turning to ash and then reforming into a human being. What is he even made of right now? Is he made of the same atoms and cells he was made of before he turned to dust? Is he even the same person? Did Sam Wilson die? Is he just a new Sam Wilson that Bruce Banner created out of thin air, a brand new body with the same memories as the first Sam Wilson? God, what is this Ship of Theseus nonsense, everything about this is so fucked up—

“OK, I need you to breathe,” Bucky says gently, interrupting Sam’s spiral into actual fucking madness. Bucky grabs Sam’s hand and pulls it to his chest. “Can you feel my chest moving? Feel me breathing in and out? Stop thinking, close your eyes, and match your breaths to mine.”

Sam squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on the feel of Bucky’s chest rising and falling underneath his hand. Bucky’s sternum is flat and bony underneath Sam’s palm, but he can feel the gentle rise of Bucky’s strong pectoral muscles underneath his fingers. Bucky’s skin is warm through his shirt, and Sam focuses on the solid feel of him as he follows Bucky’s slow and deep breathing. Bucky’s thumb presses firmly against the inside of Sam’s wrist. There’s an anxious tingling all over Sam’s skin, washing over him from head to toe, making Sam afraid that he’s going to buzz right out of his skin.

But Bucky is breathing deep and slow, and Sam lets himself relax into it, feels himself fall in sync with this not-quite-stranger, his best friend’s best friend, who is very considerately trying to keep Sam from falling apart.

“You’re doing great, Sam,” Bucky praises gently. “Just keep breathing, you’re doing great.”

“I hate this,” Sam mutters.

Bucky strokes his thumb over the sensitive skin of Sam’s wrist and leans closer, hesitating briefly before resting his forehead against Sam’s.

“Just breathe, Sam. You’re doing so good,” he murmurs softly.

Sam feels a warmth uncurling deep in his belly, reacting to Bucky’s closeness and his quiet praise. Is Bucky the most instinctually effective peer counselor in the world or is he actually seducing Sam right out of a panic attack? Sam absolutely cannot think about this now, he needs to focus on the original source of his practical and existential terror.

“I hate every part of this,” Sam admits, frustrated. “I hate that I can’t get in touch with my mom. I hate that I don’t know if my niece is OK. Bucky, who has been taking care of my niece?��

“Hey, it’s OK, Sam.” Bucky says, his tone gentle and reassuring. “We’ll find your niece. If she survived the Snap, Steve and Natalia would have kept track of her. They wouldn’t have just let her disappear into the system. You have friends.”

“Right,” Sam says, feeling that glacier sitting atop his chest begin to recede a little. “OK. Friends. Steve and Natasha will know how to find Michelle. I just need to ask Steve and Natasha how to find Sarah and Michelle.”

“Great! See, you have a plan now and everything,” Bucky says encouragingly. “Everything is going to be fine. You’re going to be fine, Sam.” Bucky leans back onto his heels, and Sam breathes a little deeper as the world comes into sharper focus.

Sam nods. This is all going to be fine. He’s alive, he’s breathing, and he has his hand on Bucky Barnes’s warm, firm chest. Bucky’s eyes are kind, and Sam can almost understand, maybe for the first time, why Steve cared so much about bringing Bucky home. Maybe Bucky isn’t so bad. Maybe everything is going to be fine. Sam can just about manage, now, to stuff all this panic inside his chest where it can’t hurt him. If he just stuffs it in there forever, he will never have to deal with it.

Sam takes a moment to congratulate himself on his healthy coping strategies.

“You’re not too bad at this, man,” Sam says. “Where did you learn to handle a panic attack like that?”

“Well, I mean, I had a lot of them after realizing that I was responsible for literally dozens of grisly murders,” Bucky replies dryly. “But also I spent like fifteen years obsessing over the state of Steve Rogers’s lungs and trying to keep him from dying of asthma so he could grow up and be Captain America.”

Right. Captain America. That’s the other thing he’s panicking about.

“Hey, what just happened?” Bucky asks gently. Bucky strokes his thumb over Sam’s wrist. “Your blood pressure just shot way up again.”

“Tell me you’re not some kind of human sphygmomanometer,” Sam says. “I don’t have the patience for that level of weird right now. Stop monitoring my blood pressure. That’s creepy.”

“OK,” Bucky says slowly. “Sorry. What’s going on?”

“Steve asked me to be Captain America. Says he’s not retiring, but he’s needed off-world for a while, and he thinks I should be the one to carry the shield.”

Suddenly, just like that, the strange, tentative peace between them shatters. Bucky’s face turns white, then flushes a deep red.

“Steve asked you to be Captain America,” Bucky repeats coldly. All traces of warmth are gone from Bucky’s face, and Bucky’s mouth settles into a grim line. “Excuse me a moment.”

Sam sighs as Bucky stalks off in Steve’s general direction.

Bucky returns a few moments later, Steve in tow, the two of them having some kind of whisper fight that Sam can’t really hear.

“Can’t believe you would do this—”

“—you know he’s a good choice—”

“—supposed to be your best friend—”

“—c’mon, Buck, you know I wouldn’t—”

Bucky yanks on Steve’s wrist as they approach Sam.

“OK, first of all, Steve, where the fuck is Sam’s family?” Bucky demands.

Steve pales, then looks genuinely contrite. “Oh, God, Sam, I’m sorry. I should have told you right away. Sarah and Michelle, they survived. They both survived the Snap. They’re living in your mom’s apartment in New York.” Steve hesitates for a moment, then adds, “Your mom was one of the ones who disappeared. She was at home watching Michelle when it happened. She should be safe. We’ll get a phone to her right away.”

Sam feels his stomach plunge at the knowledge that Michelle is five years older. He already missed two years of her life on the run with Steve after the Accords. Would she even remember him?

“Nat has your old phone stashed away. It should still have all your contacts in it. Natasha—she paid the bill. Every month you were gone. She never gave up hope we’d get you back,” Steve says, looking proud and a little teary-eyed.

While Sam works on processing the fact that his six-year-old niece is now his eleven-year-old niece, Steve rambles on about Natasha, and how brave she was, and what a rock she was, and how she kept everyone together, and how she sacrificed her life to save everyone, for kind of a while. Sam’s honestly kind of surprised. Steve and Natasha have always been close, but Sam’s never seen Steve as openly effusive about anyone other than James Buchanan Barnes Before The War, Steve’s most favorite person ever.

“OK, that’s great, Steve,” Bucky interrupts in a frosty tone. “But what’s this about Sam being the new Captain America?”

“Oh! Carol wants Natasha and me to go with her to a couple of planets that are struggling to organize after their populations suddenly doubled. Actually, I thought maybe you could come with us, Buck?” Steve offers. “I know how much you love space and—”

“No, Steve, I think I’ll stay here with Sam,” Bucky says stonily, glaring at Steve. Sam is a little stunned.

“What? Why?” Steve asks. He looks a bit like a confused golden retriever. “I thought you’d jump at this opportunity, Bucky, you really—”

“I really think I should stay here. Since I’m Captain America’s right hand man and all. And since Sam is Captain America now.”

Sam doesn’t really know what to do with all of this, because it seems like there’s really a lot going on here between Steve and Bucky that he doesn’t want to get involved with. And honestly, he’s not one hundred percent sold on the idea of working with Bucky at all, since they hardly even know each other. Today is the first time they’ve really interacted in a way that isn’t hostile or at the very least kind of pissy, and to be honest the uncomfortable sexual tension Sam felt earlier wasn’t exactly welcome.

But then a thought occurs to him, and Sam is instantly filled with delight. “So wait. What you’re saying is that you’re going to be my sidekick!”

“What, no, I’m not going to be your sidekick, I’m going to be your partner,” Bucky argues.

“Nuh uh, nope. It’s right there in the comics. Bucky Barnes was Captain America’s sidekick,” Sam says with a smirk. “Are you gonna wear the outfit?”

“What outfit?” asks Bucky, narrowing his eyes.

“Oh! The outfit with the little booty shorts?” Steve asks.

“I’m not wearing an outfit with little booty shorts,” Bucky says scornfully. “I’ll wear my regular outfit.”

“Leather bondage gear it is, then!” Sam replies. He feels more cheerful already.

***

“So what else did we miss?” Sam asks later, when they’re all settled in at one of the cabins on Tony’s property.

Steve and Natasha are tangled up together on the sofa, Natasha’s legs slung over Steve’s lap and her head resting against his chest. Steve and Nat have been trading inside jokes and finishing each other’s sentences all night, and it kind of seems like Sam and Bucky must have really missed a lot, because Sam doesn’t remember Steve and Nat being so telepathically linked before he got dusted.

Bucky is sitting alone, tense and uncomfortable-looking, in a chair near the fire. He must still be pretty pissed at Steve for choosing Sam over him as the next Captain America, because he keeps shooting murder glares at Steve through narrowed eyes. When Steve’s not gazing adoringly at Natasha, he’s busy having a silent argument with Bucky through a complicated series of expressions that include rolled eyes, pleading looks, clenched jaws, and prissy, pursed lips. Sam is honestly feeling pretty left out right now, because there’s a lot of unspoken communication going on here between basically everyone but him.

Steve heaves a frustrated sigh, tears his gaze away from Bucky, and responds, “Well, they built a giant wall between the United States and Mexico. It was a pretty big deal, lots of people were really unhappy.”

“Seriously? Half of the entire United States population disappears, and Americans are still freaking out about immigration from Mexico?” Sam asks incredulously.

“Oh, no, we didn’t build the wall. Mexico actually built the wall,” Natasha says. The wicked look in her eye suggests that this is going to be a good story.

“Wait, what? That stupid promise actually came true?” Bucky asks.

“Well, kind of?” Natasha says, giving a little so-so motion with her hand. “Mexico didn’t actually build the wall because of illegal immigration, though. They built it after a bunch of riots and border skirmishes in late 2020.”

“So, what? Gang violence? Drug cartels?” Sam asks.

“Nope. It was the season finale of a television show on the CW called Supernatural,” Steve explains, as if this doesn’t make the whole thing somehow even more confusing.

“You’re telling me that we were gone for five years and now CW shows are a source of tension between the United States and Mexico and they built an entire wall about it,” Sam says, raising his eyebrows.

Sam is dubious as hell about this new foolishness—he’s starting to feel a lot more sympathetic towards Steve’s frustration with all the impenetrable pop culture references people expected him to grasp—but Bucky visibly perks up at the mention of Supernatural. “Oh, how did that go? Is Destiel canon yet?” Bucky asks.

“No,” Steve responds at the same time that Natasha replies, “Si.” Then they both cackle wildly, as if this is some seriously comedic shit, and honestly, Sam’s getting a little annoyed with all their inside jokes. He sneaks a look over at Bucky to see how he’s responding to all this, and Sam is relieved to feel slightly less like an asshole when he sees that Bucky doesn’t look any more charmed by Steve and Natasha’s Abbott and Costello routine than Sam feels.

“OK,” Sam says slowly, really drawing the word out. “So I guess if I want to understand all of that”—here, Sam gestures broadly at Steve and Natasha, attempting to convey his incredulity at their unnecessary dramatics—“that you just did, and apparently also current U.S. foreign policy, I’m going to have to watch a TV show on the CW.”

“It’s fifteen seasons, it makes for great depression watching,” says Natasha, shrugging. Bucky nods in agreement. “And Steve was pretty genuinely moved by the relationship between the two brothers.”

Steve confirms this with a solemn nod. “They were brothers, but they were also best friends.”

“Anyway it was better than a lot of the junk we watched while you were gone,” Natasha continues. “Half the time Steve and I spent in bed together we were just binge watching trash tv and getting overly invested in the love lives of twenty-five year olds pretending to be teenagers pretending to be detectives.”

Bucky shoots Sam a significant glance at this, somehow communicating half the time they spent in bed together? with the tense raising of his eyebrows alone, and says, “Sam and I will watch Supernatural together. I’ll get him caught up.”

And yeah, maybe fifteen seasons sounds like an awful lot of time to commit to spite-watching a television show with Bucky just to handle how weird he feels about Steve and Natasha’s whole new bed sharing thing together, but then Bucky stretches his arms over his head and reveals a pale sliver of belly, little trail of hair drawing Sam’s eyes pleasingly downward.

“Yeah, all right,” Sam says. After all, this Supernatural show does sound pretty important to this sketchy new future Sam didn’t ask to find himself in.

Bucky turns to Steve. “So when do you and Natalia have to head out?”

“Probably in a week or two. We want to make sure everything’s settled here before we head out.”

“A week or two, Steve, really? You think Sam’s going to be ready to be Captain America in a week or two,” Bucky says flatly.

Sam thinks Bucky sort of has a point, but out of loyalty to Steve and his own sense of competence he keeps his mouth shut.

Steve’s shoulders hunch defensively. “It’s going to be fine, you’re going to do a great job supporting Sam.”

“I shouldn’t have to support Sam, Steve—”

“Bucky, c’mon, you know I wouldn’t have—”

“Not even a supersoldier, Steve—”

“Sam doesn’t have to be—”

Natasha is listening to this argument with a fond look on her face, like she actually missed this shit while they were gone.

“OK, listen,” Sam interrupts before Steve and Bucky get too distracted by their bullshit. “The Captain America thing is huge, yeah. But I feel like maybe we also need to be concerned about the world’s population suddenly doubling instantaneously? That’s kind of a big deal.”

“Oh!” Steve lights up. “Natasha’s had a plan set up for that since like a week after you guys disappeared. She’s spent the last five years preparing for every contingency, basically every scientific or magical possibility that might bring you guys back. In fact, phase one has already started, getting lines of communication open to reconnect families and arranging emergency housing.”

Steve beams down at Natasha, and then—Sam can’t even fucking believe this—Natasha actually blushes in response. Steve and Natasha are, respectively, the most repressed and tightly controlled people Sam knows, and now they’re acting like emotionally healthy people who express their feelings in front of other people? Sam is suspicious as hell, and when he looks over at Bucky, Bucky is bug-eyed, looking frantically and significantly at Sam with that unmistakable are you seeing this too, what the fuck expression on his face. Sam hates the fact that things are so weird now that he’s bonding with Bucky over this.

“Pepper Potts is coordinating everything through the Avengers Foundation,” Natasha says. “She needs something to do right now, and she’s basically the most frighteningly efficient person I know, so. Your only job right now is figuring out how to work together without killing each other.”

Natasha eyes them both a bit skeptically, and Sam is instantly offended at this implied slight to his professionalism.

“Bucky and I are going to do great,” Sam says. “We are definitely going to be absolutely fine at working together.” He shoots Bucky a hard look, daring him to disagree.

“Absolutely fine,” Bucky repeats dutifully, then hesitates. “You’re sure, though, right, Sam? You really want to do the Captain America thing?”

“Definitely,” Sam confirms. Bucky searches his eyes for a moment, then nods, apparently satisfied with whatever he finds.

“Great!” Natasha says with a pleased smile, and shares a satisfied look with Steve.

“Anyway,” Sam says, changing the subject, before they can figure out Sam has no fucking clue how to be Captain America and definitely doesn’t feel certain about working with Bucky Barnes. “What else did we miss while we were gone? How did Brexit go?”

“Oh, God,” Steve says.

***

The next morning, Sam walks down to the cabin’s kitchen for breakfast and finds a disaster.

“Is this a murder board?” he asks, aghast.

The wall next to the kitchen table is absolutely covered in papers that have been hastily pinned up, and there are at least eleven different colors of string stretched together in a complicated web over top of them, forming a bizarre rainbow of crazy. Where did Bucky even find that many different colors of string in the middle of the night? Did he break into a Joann Fabrics?

The kitchen table is littered with papers as well, and Sam counts six different green tea bags sitting on a napkin next to Bucky’s mug. “Have you been up all night?”

“No! And yes!” Bucky answers, his eyes red rimmed and wild, looking simultaneously exhausted and absolutely frantic with energy. He cards his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Do you know how much money Stark was spending on the Avengers Initiative after you guys blew up SHIELD? The litigation team! The insurance premiums! The property damage settlements! Weapons and technology! Research and development! Sam, the cost was astronomical!”

“Wait, this is all financial stuff? I thought this was more of, like, a traditional murder board situation here.” Sam pauses, then struck with sudden uncertainty, he asks, “Is financial stuff part of Captain America stuff?”

“Well, I mean, kind of, yeah,” Bucky responds. He stands up and restlessly paces the tiny kitchen. “You didn’t think you were going to just run off with the shield and, like, live off the kindness of strangers or something, did you?”

“Obviously, no,” Sam says, offended. Actually, though—not that Sam is going to admit it—Sam hasn’t had a real job in so long that he sort of forgot that this was going to be an issue. “Wait, did you get all this stuff by hacking Stark Industries?”

“Well, yeah,” says Bucky, defensive now. “I didn’t want to be rude and ask Ms. Potts in the middle of the night. Also I killed her daughter’s grandparents.”

Sam considers this for a moment, then shrugs. “Yeah, that’s fair,” he says. “So what about the funding we had before? Is that gone?”

“It’s not gone, but there’s no way the money in Steve’s and my bank account will be enough.”

“Wait, you and Steve share a bank account?” Sam asks, raising his eyebrows.

Bucky’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Well, yeah, of course. Why would Steve and I need separate bank accounts?” he asks, looking puzzled.

“Why would you...” Sam repeats faintly. “OK. Moving on from that codependent nonsense, you and Steve were the ones funding us while we were on the run? Steve never said.”

“Well, I mean, I did steal a bunch of money from HYDRA, and Steve had some backpay saved up. But there’s no way Steve and I have Captain America money. Stark barely had Captain America money. Sam, he was spending down his entire fortune on the Avengers Initiative. Did you guys know he was doing that?”

Sam closes his eyes, shaking off the waves of guilt and grief he felt at the mention of Tony’s generosity. “No, I didn’t,” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” Bucky says grimly. “It’s bad. Like, really, really bad. You aren’t an international fugitive anymore. If you want to be Captain America, you won’t be able to just save people, destroy a few buildings, then dash off to the next country before the police catch up to you. You have to actually deal with the fallout afterward. And, most importantly, and I cannot stress this enough, you need actual income. Was Stark seriously the only one of you with a real job?”

“I mean, yeah?”

“Of course he was,” Bucky says, deflating and leaning back against the counter with a thud. “God, you’re all idiots. I went off to war in the 1940s and I left one Steve back at home. Then I fell off a train, woke up seventy years later, and found out that Steve managed to find an entire team full of Steves, and each one of you is just as beautiful and heroic and stupid and utterly impractical as he is.” Bucky raises his metal hand to massage his temples, apparently fighting a headache so powerful that even his serum-enhanced regular arm isn’t strong enough to deal with it.

Sam carefully ignores Bucky’s insinuation that he finds Sam beautiful and heroic. Instead he pours Bucky a glass of water and slides it over to him. “OK, so what do we do?”

“Well, you’re not going to like it.”

“I’m not, huh? Just tell me.”

“We have to rebuild SHIELD,” Bucky states firmly. “We have to get in touch with Nick Fury.”

“Absolutely not,” Sam says.

“Sam, it’s the only reasonable choice. We can’t afford to privately fund your career as a superhero, OK? I mean, the insurance? The legal team? I’ve drafted fifteen different budgets and there’s no way we can get this off the ground. But if we rebuild SHIELD, there’ll be funding and qualified immunity. You won’t even have to work directly for SHIELD. You could be an independent contractor.”

“I don’t like this.”

“I know. But it’s the only way.”

“Is Fury even going to listen to us, though?” Sam asks skeptically. “Like, will he even hire you? You shot him, like, five times.”

Bucky grimaces. “Yeah, that wasn’t great. But listen, the man’s probably been waiting for this moment for years. If he can get Steve and Natalia’s public support behind SHIELD 2.0? He’ll seize the chance.”

“Shit,” Sam says.

***

When Steve and Natasha come downstairs, sleepy and happy looking, casually emerging from the same bedroom that Sam knows only has one queen size bed, like bed sharing is just a regular part of their regular lives now, Bucky introduces them to the financial murder board.

“So if you really want to do this, if you want Sam to be Captain America, we need to rebuild SHIELD,” Bucky concludes.

“SHIELD?” Natasha perks up. “We’re getting the old gang back together?”

“Natasha, like, 40% of the old gang were secret Nazis,” Steve says reproachfully. “And more importantly, Nick Fury didn’t notice they were secret Nazis.”

“He definitely started to suspect something was wrong near the end there, though,” says Natasha.

“Well, he’s our best shot at getting government funding, so unless you want to ask Tony Stark’s grieving widow for money, I think this is the best we can do.” Bucky turns to Natasha. “Natalia, you know how to get in touch with him, right?” he asks.

“I do. Pepper sent out working satellite phones via courier last night. They should have arrived by this morning. I’ll give him a call,” Natasha says. “He’s going to love this.”

“Your mom should have gotten a phone too, Sam,” Steve says. “I’ll text you her number so you can give her a call.”

“Thanks, man,” Sam says, relieved. While Steve works on sending Sam his mom’s contact info—does Steve’s phone have a holographic display? Does Old Man Steve know how to work a phone with a holographic display?—Sam asks Bucky, “How did you even pull all these records together, by the way? Are you like a secret accountant?”

“Bucky worked as an actuary before the war,” Steve responds absently, thumbing at some buttons on his phone screen. “He was getting his degree in mathematics before he dropped out to enlist.”

“An actuary?” Natasha asks thoughtfully. “I can see that. That actually makes a lot of sense.”

“It paid the bills,” Bucky allows.

When Sam receives Steve’s text with his mom’s contact info, he steps outside for a bit of privacy. Sam watches Steve and Natasha leaning together through the sliding glass window as he waits for his mom to answer the phone. Sam feels a pit growing deep in his belly, a black hole that’s been sucking in everything Sam could have lived and built and experienced in the past five years, leaving him empty and lonely and lost, missing parts of himself that he should have been gaining. Inside, Bucky is standing alone in front of murder board, his shoulders tense, while Steve and Natasha talk and smile and touch each other’s forearms.

“Sam? Sam, baby, are you OK?”

“Mom!” Sam exclaims. “Mom, I’m OK. I’m OK.”

“Thank God,” she says in relief. “We’re OK too. Sarah and Michelle, they’ve been living in my apartment. Michelle’s eleven years old now, Sam. We missed five years of her life. How did this happen?”

And Sam tells her how it happened. He tells her about the battle, and then the second battle, and then realizing that he had died and was resurrected by magical stones. He tells her about Bucky Barnes, standing there in disgruntled disbelief when Steve and Natasha explained that they’d woken up five years into the future, his only reaction to state flatly, “I was told that this wouldn’t happen to me again.”

When he tells her that Steve’s asked him to be the new Captain America, Sam’s mom gasps in surprise. “Captain America? Sam, are you sure?”

“Yeah, Mom. I am sure. I think I could really do some good,” Sam says softly.

“Do you have good people around you? Do you have people who will take care of you?”

Sam thinks of Steve and Natasha leaving for space in a few weeks, moving on to bigger and more complicated catastrophes, superheroes who’ve grown so powerful and competent and amazing that they’re needed elsewhere, on worlds larger than their own. And then he thinks of Bucky Barnes staying up all night to do superhero math so Sam can be Captain America, even though Bucky is apparently pissed that Steve chose Sam for the honor instead of him.

“Yeah,” Sam says. “I have people who will take care of me.”

***

That evening, Sam and Bucky sit at the table and watch Steve and Natasha put together the most disgusting struggle dinner Sam has ever seen. Steve is piling gross stacks of bologna onto bread and seems to think condiments are optional, while Natasha has dumped a bag of iceberg lettuce into a bowl and poured an entire bottle of ranch dressing on top of it. This, she insists, is a “salad.” Steve and Natasha move expertly around each other in the kitchen like they’re performing a choreographed dance, casually touching each other’s shoulders and hips as they slide past each other. Obviously they’ve created this sort of repulsive dinner situation more than once. What have these two been eating for the last five years? Sam can’t resist glancing up at Bucky to catch a look of horror on Bucky’s face, his nose scrunched up in disgust.

When Steve sets their plates of dry bologna sandwiches and the soggy bowl of lettuce onto the table onto the table, Bucky suddenly announces that he’s vegan.

“You are?” Steve asks suspiciously. “Since when?”

Sensing an opportunity, Sam rushes to support Bucky’s desperate ploy to avoid this dinner. “Bucky and I are both vegan, actually. It’s new.”

“Really,” Natasha says. “You and Bucky do stuff together now. Stuff like going vegan.”

“Uh huh,” Sam says staunchly.

The best way to handle Natasha is just to brazen it out. She’ll suspect that you’re lying, but she won’t actually say anything until she has proof. Unfortunately, she’ll stoop to any and all means—however invasive or conniving—to catch you out. Sam guesses he and Bucky are both vegan forever now.

“Go ahead and eat your dinner,” Bucky says. “I’ll just make Sam and me something while you guys eat.”

While Steve and Natasha eat and trade inside jokes and talk about a bunch of political events Sam does not understand—did Michigan actually successfully secede from the Union?—Sam watches in astonishment as Bucky prepares the most incredible looking burrito bowls Sam’s ever seen in his life. In like twenty minutes, the dude whips up some chipotle lime black beans, diced tomatoes, corn, fajita veggies, and quinoa, then proceeds to make pineapple mango salsa from scratch using a mortar and pestle. Where did Bucky even get these ingredients? The last time Sam checked, the fridge was almost empty.

Bucky looks relaxed and capable, and Sam watches the muscles in Bucky’s back shift and move as he chops and grinds and sautés. Bucky’s got a kitchen towel slung casually over his shoulder, and a few strands of hair at his temples curl a bit in the steam coming off the stove top.

“So what else did y’all get up to in the last five years?” Sam asks.

“Oh! Should we tell them about the—” Natasha begins, her eyes lighting up.

“You mean the dude with the—”

“With the plastic fangs!” Natasha finishes, wheezing with laughter. “What was that guy’s name? Oh, God—”

“—Baron Blood!” they exclaim in unison, cackling.

Sam can’t help but feel a little annoyed by how easily Steve and Natasha finish each other’s sentences. Sam knows, intellectually, that Steve and Natasha lived each one of the five years that went by in seconds for him and Bucky. He knows that Steve and Natasha have always been close and that it makes sense for them to, like, trauma bond after everything they’ve gone through together. But he’s never felt so left out by his own best friends before. He looks over at Bucky, relieved when he sees his own feelings of frustration and isolation mirrored on Bucky’s face.

“Wait, you fought the Bloody Baron from Harry Potter?” Bucky asks.

“No, it was Baron Blood, not the Bloody Baron.”

“Was the guy an actual baron, or were his parents just rich and tacky? Was his first name Baron?” Sam asks, fascinated despite himself.

“I think it was, like, a self-appointed title?” Natasha says. “I don’t think he was a real baron. Anyway, Steve decapitated him with his shield.”

“He was a Nazi vampire,” Steve explains.

“Like an actual vampire? Are we fighting actual vampires now?” Sam asks.

“I think so,” Natasha says doubtfully. “Steve had to soak his shield in holy water blessed by the pope first. It was a whole thing.”

“Wait, are you guys talking about Todd?” Bucky asks. “Brown hair, red eyes, ranted a lot about what an important superpower echolocation was?”

“Yes! Did you know this guy?” Steve asks.

“Eh, we weren’t close or anything. But there were some weird ass HYDRA experiments in the eighties and nineties. Most people these days think the Satanic Panic was a myth, but actually HYDRA really did have agents trying to indoctrinate daycare kids into supernatural cults. Todd was one of the evil brainwashed HYDRA daycare kids, volunteered to get some really hinky stuff done to him to try to create a master race of genetically pure vampires. Oh, and he was super obsessed with you, Steve.”

“Oh, God, was he ever,” Natasha says. “Let me tell you what he did when he got Steve tied up in his gross dungeon—”

***

While Natasha says goodbye to Bucky, squeezing Bucky and muttering something in Russian in Bucky’s ear, Sam is startled to feel Steve grab him tightly and pull him into an aggressive hug. Sam takes a minute to breathe in Steve’s familiar, comforting smell—still wearing Bay Rum even after all this time—and rests his chin on Steve’s strong shoulder.

“We love you,” Steve says, then hands him off to Natasha.

Natasha gives him a sweet kiss on the mouth. “We’ll miss you,” she says.

When Steve and Natasha disappear into the distance, Sam looks over at Bucky. “We, we, we,” Bucky says wryly.

***

Six weeks later, Sam and Bucky have formed a pretty solid partnership. They’re still living in one of the cabins on Tony Stark’s property in upstate New York for now, but they’re scheduled to report for duty at the new SHIELD headquarters in New York City on Monday.

Steve and Natasha are coming back to Earth this evening, scheduled for security briefings and press events promoting the resurrection of SHIELD, promising the public that Sam is going to make a great Captain America and that there definitely aren’t any more secret Nazis in the upper echelons of power at SHIELD.

As far as Sam can tell, Bucky’s still pretty pissed at Steve for asking Sam to be Captain America instead of him, but fortunately that grudge doesn’t seem to be carrying over to Sam. Instead, Bucky is perfectly pleasant and helpful as hell, which is pretty terrific considering the fact that Sam could use all the help he can get right now. Learning how to use the shield—especially while flying—is complicated as fuck and Sam probably would have lost patience pretty quickly without Bucky reassuring him that Steve was shit at math and definitely was not doing trigonometric calculations in his head while he fought.

“Does Steve seem like the kind of guy who’s doing a lot of thinking while he’s fighting? No, this is all practice and muscle memory,” says Bucky, clapping Sam’s shoulder. “C’mon, Steve and Natalia are scheduled to get here in like an hour. Let’s take showers and get ready to meet them for dinner.”

It’s humid as fuck outside and Bucky’s shirt is drenched in sweat, clinging so tightly to his skin that Sam can count each one of his abdominal muscles individually. Bucky raises a water bottle to his mouth and takes a long pull. Sam watches a drip of sweat slide down Bucky’s throat.

“Yeah, good plan,” Sam says. A cool shower sounds really refreshing right now.

***

When they meet Steve and Natasha for dinner, Sam nearly forgets that he and Bucky are pretending to be vegan until Bucky orders a wheatberry salad and then kicks Sam underneath the table. Sam grimaces and reaches down to rub his shin, looking regretfully at the shiny picture of the giant burger and fries that Steve ordered on his menu.

“I’ll have the wheatberry salad too,” Sam says, trying not to sound too sad about it.

Steve and Natasha are bursting with stories about space. They’re happy and full of excitement, and if anything, they’re somehow even closer than when they left. They have very strong feelings about Kree politics, and they tell a lot of stories about famous people from space that Sam does not know. They touch each other constantly.

The wheatberry salad is amazing.

“So what else happened while we were gone?” Bucky asks, mercifully changing the subject from the boring Kree legislative process. “How did the last season of Game of Thrones go?”

“Oh, it was incredible,” Natasha raves, her eyes lighting up. “David Benioff and D. B. Weiss were taken in the Snap, so they had to hire this fantasy author named Brandon Sanderson to write it. Everyone was really skeptical about how it would go—especially with half of the cast gone—but he did an amazing job. It’s now considered one of the strongest finales of any show in history.”

“You know, I never could get into Game of Thrones,” Sam remarks. “All those big-budget fantasy dynastic political dramas are just so unrealistic.”

“See, that’s what Shuri said when I told her I was watching it to research living in a monarchy after I moved to Wakanda,” Bucky says. “But then her secret illegitimate cousin traveled from across the sea to claim her brother’s throne in a trial by combat. And then her supposedly slain brother dramatically returned from the dead with the help of a magical herb in order to defeat the usurper in battle, so.” Bucky lifts his shoulders and raises his hands in a sort of smug, so who turned out to be right there? kind of shrug.

“Yeah, OK,” Sam concedes, tipping his head to acknowledge the point.

“It’s crazy that we’ll never know how much better it could have been with Benioff and Weiss at the helm, though,” Steve says, and Sam’s stomach drops a bit as he’s hit by another wave of wrongness, that same ears-ringing, tunnel-vision-forming wrongness he’s been feeling since he dramatically returned from the dead. Because what’s the deal with Steve being so literate in pop culture that he not only watches hit prestige dramas but actually knows the names of the writers? To Sam, it was just a few weeks ago that Steve declared Star Trek: The Next Generation “a bit too flashy” for his taste.

“Hey, did George R. R. Martin ever finish the books?” Bucky asks hopefully.

“No, he died,” Steve says.

***

Later that night, after Steve and Natasha have conspicuously gone to bed together, Bucky grabs Sam’s hand, puts a finger to his lips, quirks an eyebrow, and leads Sam silently into a small closet on the first floor of the house. The closet is full of thick winter coats that push Sam and Bucky right up against a wall, their bodies pressed tightly together. Bucky turns on the flashlight app from his phone to give them some light.

“What are we doing in here?” Sam whispers.

“It’s the only place in the house where Steve won’t be able to hear us. Just keep your voice down,” Bucky explains.

“Oh, shit. We’re not plotting to overthrow SHIELD again, are we?”

“No!” Bucky says. “It’s been like six weeks. HYDRA won’t have a secret majority interest in SHIELD for another twenty years at least. Look, have you noticed how Steve and Natalia are, like, obsessed with each other now?”

“Yes! What is with that? I thought I was Steve’s best friend!” Sam hisses.

“Well, you and Steve are definitely close friends,” Bucky says skeptically. “But best friendship is an exclusive relationship. It’s the closest and most intimate connection you can have with someone. And you can only have one of them. Your best friend is someone you would kill for, someone that you would die for, someone you would come back from seventy years of brainwashing for. Someone you would drop the very symbol of everything you believe in for. So, I think we can all agree that I was Steve’s best friend.”

Bucky looks pretty self-satisfied after that whole speech.

“I don’t think we can all agree that you were Steve’s best friend,” Sam says, tilting his head skeptically.

“Well, I was, but the point is that I don’t think I am anymore. I think Natalia might be Steve’s best friend now,” Bucky whispers, irritated.

“I know! I hate it,” Sam confesses. “Steve and Nat and I used to all be best friends. Now they have all these inside jokes and I feel left out all the time.”

“Again, Sam, you can’t have two best friends,” Bucky corrects. “Anyway, I know we haven’t always gotten along in the past, and maybe some of us have made mistakes like kicking people off helicarriers or wrecking their cars, but I think if we want Steve back, we might be able to work together on this.”

“I’m listening,” Sam says.

“OK, so I think we need to try to make them jealous.”

“I don’t think Nat gets jealous. Does Steve get jealous?” Sam says doubtfully.

“Oh, Steve gets jealous,” Bucky confirms. “Did you know that like five seconds after I admitted that I remembered growing up with Steve, he immediately started getting passive aggressive about some redhead named Dot that I spent three dollars on back in 1937? It was like the very first thing he brought up.”

“Oh, God, was Dot short for Dolores?” Sam asks. “Steve complained about her all the time while we were out searching for you.”

“That was her!” Bucky says. “Steve was so jealous of Dolores. Anyway, I think if we team up, we can convince Steve that we’re best friends now. Then he’ll get jealous and remember how much more important we are to him than Natalia.”

Sam considers this carefully. He’s never been pressed so close to Bucky before, their faces only inches away from one another. From this distance Sam can see how long and thick Bucky’s eyelashes are. He can smell the pleasant scents of Bucky’s clean sweat and spicy aftershave.

He wants to press his thumb into the cleft in Bucky’s chin.

“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea,” Sam hears himself say.

“Great!”

***

The next day, while Steve and Natasha are busy in meetings with Rhodey and Fury, Sam moves into his new apartment in Brooklyn. It’s not actually so much his new apartment so much as it is Steve’s old apartment, but apparently Steve doesn’t need it anymore since he’s spending so much time out in space with Natasha and he “can always just stay with Nat while I’m in town, it’s no trouble, Sam, Natasha and I are used to bunking together.”

Sam actually has a lot of questions about how used to bunking together Steve and Natasha are.

Sam’s unpacking his clothes when he hears the doorbell ring. His spine stiffens and his fingers twitch for a weapon. Steve and Natasha are both scheduled to be out for hours still, and Steve’s a pretty private guy. Sam doubts many people know about his apartment.

He grabs a gun from his safe, loads it, and walks silently toward the front door.

“Sam, I know you’re in there.”

The muffled voice on the other side of the door is thankfully familiar. Sam feels the tension in his chest release and he lowers his gun. It’s just Bucky.

Unfortunately, all that tension in Sam’s chest immediately returns when Sam opens the door to discover that Bucky is, for some reason, carrying a duffel bag and surrounded by cardboard boxes. Sam’s stomach sinks.

“What the fuck, Sam?” Bucky complains, shoving past him into the entryway and setting down his bag. “You didn’t even look through the peephole to make sure no one was holding me at gunpoint? If we’re going to live together you’re going to have to be a lot more careful about security. I have a lot of enemies.”

“I’m sorry, if we’re going to live together?” Sam repeats, horrified. He puts the safety back on his gun and sets it down onto the counter.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Um, yes? Remember our whole fake-best-friends plan? You literally just agreed to it last night. Here, help me with these boxes.”

Bucky goes back into the hallway, where he bends over to lift a box labeled “pots and pans,” his skinny jeans stretching obscenely over his ass and thighs.

“Yeah, OK,” Sam says, and follows him out into the hallway.

***

“OK, so, explain this to me again: why does being fake best friends mean that we have to be actual roommates?” Sam asks later, passing Bucky a beer.

They’re sitting on Sam’s couch now, surrounded by fifteen boxes labeled, variously: “favorite grenade launchers,” “crossbows,” “guns (1 of 10),” “scopes and silencers,” “marijuana,” and “warm sweaters.”

“Is this beer vegan?” Bucky asks, checking the label. “Hold on, I’m gonna need to look this up.”

“Wait, are you actually vegan?” Sam asks, watching in astonishment as Bucky pulls up an app on his phone, types in the name of the beer Steve left in the fridge, frowns, and then gets up to put the beer back into the fridge. “I thought we were just pretending to be vegan to avoid Steve’s bologna sandwiches and that gross salad.”

“We were! But then I looked it up afterward to make sure I could pull this off in front of Natalia and I actually read a lot of really harrowing and kind of horrifying stuff about animal agriculture,” Bucky says, grimacing. “Anyway, if we want Steve and Natalia to believe that we’re best friends, we’re going to have to live together. Steve and I always lived together, and Steve moved in with you like five seconds after he met you.”

“To be fair to Steve, he did make it two very sad years living alone in the most depressing apartment I have ever seen, and he didn’t move in with me until you shot a man through his walls,” Sam says.

“That was just an excuse,” Bucky says, waving his hand airily. “Steve and I spent the entire winter of 1937 living in an uninsulated attic apartment with a broken window. If Steve didn’t want to live with you, he would have just slapped some duct tape over those bullet holes and gotten an extra blanket.”

Sam considers this and then reluctantly concedes the point. He’s seen Steve look unnervingly comfortable in some pretty horrific living situations over the past couple of years.

“All right, fine. But do we really need every gun ever made in our living room? I feel like surrounding yourself with this amount of weaponry has got to be an unhealthy coping strategy.”

Sam feels pretty confident about this—he’d been like three-quarters of the way through his Master’s coursework to become a licensed professional counselor when Steve Rogers bulldozed his way into his life.

“And what are we going to do if we need to take down SHIELD again, Sam?” Bucky demands. “How much do we really trust Nick Fury? Anyway, we aren’t storing these in the living room, Sam, that would be tacky.”

“Uh huh,” Sam says, his stomach sinking. “And where are we storing them?” He has a bad feeling about this.

“In the spare bedroom, of course.”

“What spare bedroom.”

“The spare bedroom-slash-armory! We only really need one bedroom, Sam. Steve and I always shared a bedroom.”

“Did you,” Sam says. “And I suppose you shared a bed too.”

“Of course we did. Why would Steve and I need separate beds? We were best friends.”

Bucky gives Sam an odd look, like he thinks Sam in the one being strange about this. As if indefinitely sharing a bed is just normal best friend stuff. Sam wants to believe that this is some kind of Depression era, growing-up-in-poverty sort of thing, but honestly Steve and Bucky are just so intensely weird about each other that Sam is pretty sure that it’s actually a Steve-and-Bucky thing.

Sam thinks about sharing a bed with Bucky every night. He wonders if Bucky wears a shirt to bed, or if Bucky slides into bed bare-chested, wearing only a pair of shorts or maybe even just some tightly fitted boxer briefs.

“All right,” Sam says, sighing.

***

Later that night, when they’re lying in bed catching up on Supernatural—he has got to know how this show somehow became relevant to international geopolitics—Bucky leans over to pull a huge bag of weed out of the nightstand. Then he slowly, carefully rolls the fattest joint Sam has ever seen. It’s somehow absolutely massive but still structurally sound and perfectly balanced. Sam puts the show on pause because he has a lot of questions about this.

“Where did you learn how to do that? Does marijuana even work on you?” Sam asks. “Did you learn how to do this as part of that whole Eat Pray Love thing you did while Steve and I were looking for you?”

“What? No. Steve taught me how to do this back in the thirties.”

“Excuse me, Steve Rogers taught you how to roll a joint in the thirties? Steve ‘Captain America’ Rogers knows how to roll a joint?” Sam asks, scandalized.

“Yes? I didn’t have any other friends named Steve—actually, Steve was always my only friend,” Bucky says offhandedly. “Anyway, Stevie started rolling his own asthma cigarettes when he was like twelve, had those perfect long-fingered artist hands even when he was little. Then when he started art school he started bringing home marijuana after class. He’d roll us a joint and we’d sit out on the fire escape and smoke before bed every night.”

“Steve Rogers,” Sam says, wonderingly. “What a little punk.”

“Right? I’m always saying that but no one ever believes me. Here,” Bucky says, passing the joint over to Sam. Sam hesitates for a moment—he hasn’t smoked pot since before he joined the Air Force—but then he gives a mental shrug, figuring that SHIELD probably isn’t going to drug test him. Yeah, Nick Fury is kind of a dick, but Sam doubts that he’d give a shit about a little recreational marijuana use.

Sam feels a little thrill when he raises Bucky’s joint to his lips, the paper still slightly damp from Bucky’s saliva. He seals his mouth around the end of the joint and sucks in deeply, sharing this wet vicarious kiss with Bucky, who watches Sam’s mouth with interest. Sam feels the sharp burn in his lungs as he holds in the smoke, then coughs violently when he exhales, passing the joint back to Bucky.

“Damn,” he says. “This stuff still works for you?”

“Yep,” Bucky says. “HYDRA wanted to make sure they’d still be able to drug the shit out of me when they were experimenting with their own version of the serum, so unlike some reckless assholes who actually volunteered to get the bona fide serum, I can still get stoned. Which is I guess some small consolation for spending seventy years on some pretty intense amphetamines and weird psychosis-inducing experimental drug cocktails.”

“Yikes. Well, that makes sense, I guess,” Sam says. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Bucky pauses. “Well, it’s not fine fine. But I’m fine. Now.”

“I’m glad,” Sam says, and he realizes he means it.

***

The first time Sam fucks up as Captain America, he finds out the answer to a great personal mystery: why Steve Rogers was considered “the greatest tactician in American military history.”

It’s not because Steve is actually a great tactician—in fact, Steve is an instinctive fighter, brash and brave and most of all impulsive.

Apparently, the real reason Steve was considered the greatest tactician in American military history is because Peggy Carter was the greatest tactician in American military history, and Bucky Barnes was the greatest bullshitter in American military history.

When Maria Hill orders them to Fury’s office for debriefing after that disastrous mission, Bucky grabs Sam’s arm and digs his nails into the tender skin on the underside of Sam’s forearm.

“Whatever you do, do not say anything,” Bucky hisses. “Just shut the fuck up, and let me handle this. I mean it.”

“I need to take responsibility for this, Bucky. Steve would take responsibility for this.”

“Steve would absolutely not take responsibility for this,” Bucky states firmly. “Trust me, I’ve been bailing that little punk out of trouble for one hundred years. Do not say anything.”

When they get to Fury’s office, Sam witnesses an actual miracle. Fury begins by asking them a series of terse questions in a clipped tone that slowly grows more and more agreeable as Bucky’s answers—calm, thoughtful, and pleasant—make Sam’s actions sound both necessary and entirely reasonable. The tone shifts from an interrogation to a more customary debrief, and by the end Fury’s countenance is less thunderous and more just his sort of standard expression of grim disapproval.

The truly bewildering part is that Bucky’s explanations for Sam’s behavior are so convincing that Sam himself is now questioning whether he even fucked up at all. Nothing Bucky says is a lie, and Sam’s not even sure he would characterize anything as misleading, but nevertheless Sam slowly moves from the distinct impression that both he and Fury considered the mission a failure, to the cautious notion that maybe he’d actually made the best of a bad job after all.

When Fury dismisses them, he offers them a gruff, “Excellent work, gentlemen,” and then he actually claps Sam on the shoulder as Sam walks out the door.

What the fuck.

***

“Excuse me, are you some kind of hypnotist or sorcerer?” Sam hisses when they return to their office. “What the fuck was all that?”

“Should we get Thai food for lunch? I’m thinking pad see ew,” Bucky muses, scrolling through the menu on his phone. “What about you?”

“Get me the tofu pad thai,” Sam says. It turns out Bucky wasn’t wrong about the environmental impact of animal agriculture—that’s actually some deeply sobering shit, and Sam feels like he should probably try to be a good role model now that he’s Captain America. “Seriously, though, I did fuck up that mission, right? I wasn’t imagining that?”

Bucky sighs. “Sam, you made the right call. Maybe Fury wouldn’t have agreed immediately, but I didn’t spend my entire life justifying Steve’s aggressive self-sacrificing bullshit to people in positions of authority for no reason. Steve knew when to step up and do what was right, sure, but he also knew when to shut up and let me do the talking afterward.”

Everything about Steve’s career in the Army makes so much more sense now.

“Thanks, man,” Sam says, awkwardly. He hesitates a moment, then asks, “You really think Steve would have made the same decision today?”

Bucky gives Sam a long, considering look. His gaze is solemn and sympathetic, and his lips press together in a sad smile. “Sam, you’ve got to stop comparing yourself to Steve.”

***

Sam misses a lot about Steve, but he very specifically does not miss running with Steve. That’s because Steve is an asshole, and while Sam may enjoy the view from behind when Steve laps him for the fiftieth time, he definitely does not feel like Steve deserves to act as smug about it as he does when Steve is quite famously the recipient of performance enhancing drugs.

Sam and Bucky are running their usual route in Prospect Park, feet pounding together in rhythm as they listen to the dope ass Carly Rae Jepsen playlist Bucky made for them on their headphones. It turns out that Sam’s been putting up with a lot of shit from Steve that wasn’t actually necessary, because despite being a full year older than Steve—or is it four years younger, now, after the Snap?—Bucky has managed to develop some pretty cool taste in music. More importantly, Bucky seems mercifully content to run at a speed that is completely normal for unenhanced people who are still in fantastic shape and also have great legs.

Speaking of great legs, Sam’s having kind of a hard time handling the length of Bucky’s running shorts today. Bucky’s legs are long and strong, lightly muscled and flexing attractively as his steady stride eats up the pavement, and his thighs—

“So how come Steve won’t run like a regular person?” Sam asks, reluctantly dragging his gaze away from those lean, golden thighs.

“Did he try to give you some shit about how he has to run that fast to stay in shape as a supersoldier?” scoffs Bucky. “No, Steve runs that fast because Steve has anger issues and a high sex drive. Otherwise he’d be starting fights and jerking off four times a day.”

Sam’s breath catches a bit in his chest and he tries very hard not to stumble at that. “Oh?” Sam asks, trying to sound casual. “And you? You’re not jerking off four times a day?”

“Living with you, sweetheart?” Bucky says with a wink. “Of course I am.”

***

This isn’t actually Sam’s first time living with a Russian assassin, because he spent two years on the run with Natasha, so he’s used to a lot of weird ass habits. But one thing that confounds the shit out of him is why Bucky insists on navigating Brooklyn solely through a maze of gross alleyways that smell absolutely foul.

Steve and Natasha are finally home from their peacekeeping or worldbuilding or diplomatic journey through the stars—whatever the hell they’ve been doing for the past few months—and Sam and Bucky are on their way to meet them at a café for lunch.

“Man, are you sure we’re not going in circles? I could swear we’ve passed that blue dumpster at least twice already. Is this some kind of spy thing where we’re doubling back to lose a tail or something?” Sam asks.

“No. And this blue dumpster is the blue dumpster behind the hipster café with the oat milk latte that you hate, the one with too much cinnamon,” Bucky explains patiently. “The other two blue dumpsters are behind the artisanal pickle shop and the thrift store where the secondhand clothes actually cost more than they do when you buy them new.”

“Right,” Sam says with a heavy sigh. Then he perks up when he sees their favorite stray cat. “Oh, hey, it’s Steve the cat!”

“Aw! Hi, Steve!” Bucky coos. He reaches into his pocket to toss a few treats toward the skinny, ill-tempered cat, who eyes them suspiciously before hissing viciously, his scraggly hackles raising. Steve the cat ignores their treats, presumably offended by their insulting attempts at charity, and Sam and Bucky positively melt at this pointless and self-destructive display of spitefulness.

“He’s so cute!” Bucky says.

“I love him so much,” Sam agrees. “C’mon, let’s leave the treats here and keep going. Maybe he’ll eat them after we leave.”

“We should stop at the pet store on the way home and pick up a different brand. Maybe Steve has allergies,” Bucky suggests.

“Good idea,” Sam says, nodding.

As they head toward their lunch with Steve and Natasha, Sam’s surprised to realize that he feels pretty relaxed and confident about their whole fake-best-friends plan. Usually he’d be having some kind of heart palpitations at the thought of trying to pull one over on Natasha, an actual spy who actually lied to the actual God of Lies and actually succeeded at it, but instead Sam thinks that he and Bucky might really get away with this whole fake-best-friends thing. It helps that Bucky looks so cool and self-assured walking beside him, hips loose and easy and confident as those long legs lead them toward their whole best friends debut.

Eventually they weave their way out of Bucky’s trash labyrinth and make it to the café, where Steve and Natasha are waiting at a table along the sidewalk. Steve and Nat look happy, laughing and chatting animatedly, their body language intimate and relaxed. Sam feels a brief moment of apprehension, but Steve smiles broadly when he sees Sam and Bucky approach, and Steve and Nat both stand to offer hugs and kisses in greeting.

“We’re so glad to be home,” Natasha says, sitting back down with a sigh. “Do you know that after spending the past few months trying to navigate alien bureaucracy, I’ve actually missed filling out post-mission paperwork at SHIELD? Do not repeat that to Fury.”

“Fury’s already trying to convince Natasha to train as his replacement when he retires,” Steve brags, putting his arm around Natasha’s shoulders. The flash of envy Sam feels at Steve’s obvious pride in Natasha is swiftly overwhelmed by Sam’s genuine happiness for her. He can’t think of anyone he’d trust more than Natasha to be the next Director of SHIELD. Probably she wouldn’t let in any secret Nazis or mad scientist artificial intelligences at all.

“That’s great, Natalia,” Bucky says warmly. “How soon can you start? I already hate working for Fury.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure Fury has like three decoy replacements lined up and at least another decade of weird mind games in him before he’ll seriously consider retirement,” Natasha says, nodding her head approvingly. “And to be fair to Fury, he’s probably still pretty pissed about that time you nearly killed him.”

“Actually, Fury really likes Bucky,” says Sam defensively. “Just last week Fury even thanked him for giving him the chance to fake his own death—said he’d been looking for just the right opportunity for years.”

Bucky smirks and nudges his knee against Sam’s underneath the table. Sam deliberately doesn’t move his leg away, warmth spreading through him from the point of contact.

“I feel like I should be surprised that Bucky won Fury over that quickly, but honestly it makes sense. The nuns loved Bucky,” Steve says, rolling his eyes.

“Fury does have kind of a weird nun energy, doesn’t he,” Natasha says thoughtfully. “I’ve never really thought about it before but now I’m kind of obsessed with the idea.”

When they’ve finished ordering—bacon cheeseburgers for Steve and Natasha, falafel salads for Sam and Bucky—Natasha asks them how they’re enjoying their new vegan lifestyle.

“Have you been eating a lot of aquafaba?” Natasha asks, too innocent by half.

A surge of triumph wells up in Sam’s chest. He knows that Natasha is testing them, and he knows that they’re going to pass this test.

“Aquafaba’s actually more of a baking thing, sort of an egg white replacement,” Sam explains, biting his lip to resist shooting Bucky a smug grin. “And Bucky doesn’t eat anything with added sugar, so we don’t do a whole lot of baking.”

“And since when is Bucky such a healthy eater?” Steve asks incredulously.

“Some of us got hasty Nazi knockoff serums, Steve,” Bucky replies. “I’m like a hundred years old. How do I know if I can just eat whatever I want and still have perfect blood pressure and cholesterol like you? Also, do you know how much we’ve learned about nutrition since you and I were in school? When was the last time you even got a physical, Steve? Natalia ought to be making sure you take better care of yourself. I make sure Sam exercises and eats a sensible diet.”

“I stay fit,” Sam agrees.

Bucky smirks and lets his eyes travel along Sam’s biceps and shoulders. “Yeah, you do, sweetheart.”

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to get a physical, OK? But my primary care physician was taken in the Snap,” Steve says defensively. “I didn’t have time to find a new one. I’ve been very busy.”

“I’m actually finding this all very interesting,” Natasha says, her chin propped on her hand and her voice low and amused. “Has Bucky always been this fussy and meddlesome?”

“Only when it comes to my best friend,” Bucky explains with great apparent sincerity.

Steve chokes on his soda, coughing and sputtering violently, and Sam looks up from his salad to grin and catch Bucky’s eye. Natasha gives Steve a few strong thumps on the back.

When Steve recovers from his coughing fit, he narrows his eyes in disbelief. “I’m sorry, your best friend? Is Sam your best friend? Because I thought Sam was more like your best friend’s best friend.”

“We’ve gotten really close since we moved in together,” Sam says earnestly, slinging a friendly arm around Bucky’s shoulders.

It’s not even a lie, really. They’ve got a pretty great routine going, and Bucky’s an easy roommate. They wake up every morning and drag themselves out of their shared bed, sleepy and warm, and head out for an early run, letting Bucky’s bomb ass running playlist and the exertion of their run build up the physical and emotional energy they need for the day. They take Bucky’s weird secret assassin route through the alleys to and from the subway every day, and when they come home in the evenings they catch up on all the movies and music and weird political news they’ve missed in the past five years. They smoke a joint together in bed every night before they go to sleep, and they laugh and swap stories and usually make fun of Steve. It’s all very comfortable and cozy. It’s actually, Sam is startled to realize, the closest thing to home he’s felt in the past two-slash-seven years.

“So you moved in together,” Steve says, his voice awkward and high pitched. “That’s—so great!”

“Speaking of moving in together,” Bucky says innocently. “Have you guys decided where you’re going to live? We can move the weapons out of the spare room at our place if you want to move in with us.”

“I’m sorry, the spare room? It’s only a two bedroom apartment, Bucky!”

***

Sam is happy to be back in the field with Steve and Natasha, but he can’t shake the slight uneasiness that comes from thinking he’ll be able to predict their actions, that he’ll be able follow the rhythm of their fight together, only for the two of them to do something totally different than what he expects at the worst possible moment. It turns out that five years was just long enough for Steve and Natasha to fall perfectly in sync with one another and out of sync with Sam.

It’s Sam and Bucky’s first official SHIELD mission with Steve and Natasha, and everything is going mostly fine except for the fact that instead of turning into nice, clean piles of dust like in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, these gross ass vampires are exploding like giant bags of blood every time you slay them. It’s super nasty and definitely unhygienic.

The vampires are feral, mostly mindless leech-like creatures that don’t seem to have a lot going on in their probably decaying brains. So on top of dying in a rather revolting sort of fashion, they’re not even sexy or sophisticated or even European the way pop culture has promised him. The whole experience is a real letdown, and it isn’t even really dangerous so much as it is messy and tedious.

“Last one!” Bucky calls out, firing his crossbow straight into the heart of a vampire standing in front of Steve. The vampire explodes in a disgusting spray of borrowed blood, drenching Steve from head to toe in its recycled bodily fluids. Sam stifles a laugh.

“God damn it, Bucky,” Steve complains, his face twisting in distaste. “Just for that I’m taking first shower on the Quinjet.”

Sam gives Bucky a discreet fist bump when they climb aboard, whispering, “Nice shot, man.” Bucky snickers.

Steve is always so funny when he gets all prim and fussy, like some kind of stuffy Victorian schoolmarm. It’s kind of adorable.

In order to fit a full decontamination chamber and shower into the Quinjet, there’s only one of them, so they have to take turns showering. Sam and Bucky have a sort of medium amount of blood on them, while Natasha has somehow managed to escape the whole gory ordeal without a single drop of blood—or even sweat? Literally how is she so pristine?—anywhere on her. Since they’re only in New Jersey, not too far from home, Natasha decides she can wait until they get back to SHIELD headquarters to shower.

“So what’s the deal with all the vampires?” Sam asks. “I thought you and Steve killed that Bloody Baron guy.”

“We did,” Natasha replies, frowning. “It must have been a nest he left behind. Usually new vampires are too stupid or underdeveloped to feed themselves—they’re sort of like human babies that way—but I guess after their vampire dad guy died they must have gotten hungry enough to try to find something to eat on their own. I would have thought that they’d have all starved to death by now, though.”

When Steve finally exits the shower a thousand years later, he shoots them a smug smile. “Good luck fighting over who goes next, guys,” Steve taunts, in an irritating, self-satisfied sort of way. “There’s probably not enough hot water left for both of you.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Bucky says casually. “Sam and I always shower together anyway. We can share. C’mon, Sam.”

Bucky grabs Sam’s wrist and tugs him along toward the shower, and Sam uses every ounce of energy he has left in his body to keep his facial muscles firmly under control, refusing to offer any kind of reaction whatsoever to that frankly shocking claim. What the fuck, Bucky? On the plus side, though, Sam has the pleasure of watching Steve’s eyes widen and his stupid smirk fade as horror slowly sets in.

Natasha’s face, of course, lights up in surprise and then sheer fucking delight at this unexpected turn of events, because Natasha loves drama.

“What,” Steve says weakly.

“Yeah, it’s no big,” Sam says, nonchalant as hell. “We’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Steve and Natasha whisper furiously at each other as Bucky pulls him out of the room.

When Bucky shuts the door to the decontamination chamber behind them, Sam falls back against it, running an open hand down his face and groaning. “Bucky, man, what are you doing?”

“What?” Bucky asks, eyes wide and guileless. He’s unbuckling the chest fasteners on his uniform, and Sam decides to take a moment to indulge his purely intellectual curiosity about how exactly Bucky straps himself into all that tactical fetish gear.

“Steve and I always used to take baths together,” Bucky says. “Do you know how long it took to heat up buckets full of water on the stove just to take one bath? And by the time one person was finished, the bath water would be dirty and cold! And Stevie was so little, it was just easier to bathe together so we’d both stay warm, especially in the winter—”

While Bucky prattles on about Depression-era plumbing, filthy shared tenement showers, cold water apartments, the potential dangers of cold baths for people with weak lungs, and how extremely normal it is for best friends to shower together, Sam watches Bucky methodically strip down to bare, sweaty skin.

“Do you need help, sweetheart?” Bucky asks, amusement in his voice.

“What,” Sam says absently. His eyes are intently following the path of a bead of sweat that’s sliding slowly down the hills and valleys of Bucky’s well-defined abs.

“You’re still dressed.”

“Oh! Right. Yes. I mean no! I don’t need help.”

As Bucky turns on the water and adjusts the temperature, Sam undresses hurriedly, tossing his bloody uniform into the laundry container marked “BIOHAZARD” and stepping into the shower with Bucky.

“Now, Sam, I just want to say: it’s OK if you get hard,” Bucky says sincerely, clearly trying but then utterly failing to hold back a grin. He looks directly into Sam’s eyes and claps him on the shoulder. “You know, Steve and I always—”

“Don’t say it,” Sam interrupts. “Do not say it or I will kill you, I swear to God.” Literally the last thing Sam needs, as he desperately tries to redirect the flow of blood running to his cock, is to think about Steve and Bucky showering together with erections. Jesus Christ. Sam is not made of fucking stone.

“I’m just saying, it’s perfectly normal—”

“I will kill you, Barnes,” Sam warns.

“It’s the beauty of nature!” Bucky proclaims with a shit-eating grin, then easily dodges Sam’s half-hearted blow to the face. “And if it makes you feel better, I will be making literally no effort to avoid ogling you, so.”

Sam rolls his eyes and suppresses a smile. “Whatever, man. Help me wash my back.”

***

After they shower together on the Quinjet, Bucky apparently decides that there’s no reason for them to stop showering together now that they’ve started. So every morning when they finish their run, Bucky follows Sam into the bathroom, stripping off his sweaty clothes and just stepping right into the shower, waiting for Sam to join him. And at this point it feels like maybe it would be weird if Sam said something, like maybe he should have said something the first time Bucky decided they were the kind of friends who took showers together, but quite frankly the first time Sam was so distracted by the shift and pull of Bucky’s muscles as he tugged off his shirt that Sam didn’t think to protest.

So now they shower together every morning, and they share the same body wash and shampoo too, because Bucky says that they already smell just like each other from spending so much time together that it doesn’t really make sense for them to use different products. Plus, Bucky explains, with two full grown men in the shower at the same time, there’s just not enough room to clutter up the space with a bunch of different bottles.

Sam is pretty sure that Bucky just likes it that Sam smells like him, though. Bucky’s weirdly possessive that way, and it turns out that maybe Steve is too, because every time Sam gets up close in Steve’s space during training, Steve’s nostrils flare, the briefest look of jealousy crossing his face.

So, on the plus side, their plan is definitely working.

On the down side, however, Sam has exactly zero opportunities to jerk off now, and he’s about to spontaneously fucking combust out of what is probably fatal sexual tension. Because every morning, Sam wakes up to a soft, sleepy Bucky pressed against his back, hips grinding gently against Sam’s ass. And every morning, Sam watches Bucky get sweaty and breathless on their run, thin t-shirt growing slowly more transparent, clinging to those perfectly sculpted pectoral muscles. And then, after all that, Sam has to actually get naked and shower with the guy, who is not at all shy about the way his erection springs up out of his running shorts as he pulls them down his hips.

And all of this—this whole fucking blue balls-inducing, brain-melting, sexually frustrating journey into madness—happens before Sam can even get a goddamn cup of coffee. It is eight in the fucking morning and Sam is about to die from his boner.

“Hey, Sam?” Bucky asks, giving himself a critical look in the bathroom mirror. “Can you cut my hair?”

“Do I look like a barber,” Sam replies flatly.

“No, but I feel like if we’re going to your mom’s today, I should probably look sharp, right? And I just don’t feel like the long hair goes with a suit.” Bucky frowns. “There are probably plenty of videos about hair cutting on Youtube, right? I’ll bet you could figure it out.”

Sam does not remember inviting Bucky to his mom’s house with him today, and he has no idea why Bucky is planning on wearing a suit, but he does remember how Bucky Barnes had looked in those old photos, with that classic haircut highlighting his sharp cheekbones and that perfect fucking jawline. He’d looked like an old movie actor, like Cary Grant or Gregory Peck, and Sam has always had a weakness for handsome men who look like they could take you to church and then take you straight to bed so you’ll have something to confess about next week.

“Yeah, all right,” Sam agrees.

It turns out there are actually a bunch of tutorials on how to cut hair on Youtube—apparently there was a whole thing that happened in 2020 where everyone had to cut their own hair for a while?—and after two or three videos Sam feels reasonably prepared for this potential disaster.

He sits Bucky down on a chair in the kitchen, because Bucky’s hair is thick and long, and Sam wants to make sure he can sweep everything up nice and easy when they’re done. When Sam runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair to start trimming the length, Bucky groans softly, his eyelids fluttering closed.

“Forgot how much I like having my hair touched,” Bucky murmurs.

“Oh, yeah?” Sam says, biting his lip. He wonders if Bucky also likes to have his hair pulled, and for a moment he regrets ever letting Bucky talk him into this hair cut, because he thinks he’d like to see Bucky’s long hair twisted around his fist as he guides Bucky’s mouth down onto his cock.

“I never had a professional haircut before the Army,” Bucky confesses. “My mom always cut it for me when I was a kid, and then when I moved in with Steve we’d do it for each other. We always needed money back then, couldn’t afford a barber.”

“Hold still for a moment,” Sam says, touching Bucky’s jaw and gently guiding his head into the right position. He runs the clippers over the back of Bucky’s neck, fingers pressing lightly against Bucky’s temples to move him where he needs him. Heat blooms deep in Sam’s belly at the way Bucky shivers under his touch. When Sam finishes trimming the sides and back of Bucky’s head, he leans down to softly blow the excess hair off the nape of Bucky’s neck. Bucky moans quietly, biting his lip and arching his back almost imperceptibly. Pretty little goosebumps rise on the back of his neck.

“Take a look,” Sam says quietly, handing Bucky a mirror.

Bucky turns his head left and right, preening a bit as he admires the tidy cut Sam gave him. He looks gorgeous, hair neatly trimmed in a way that draws focus to that devastating bone structure.

“Not too bad for your first try, sweetheart,” Bucky says, grinning. “Think your mom will like it?”

“Oh, I think she will.”

***

When Sam’s mom opens her door to see that Sam has brought a friend to visit, she looks delighted at this unexpected turn of events.

“Sam, baby! It’s so good to see you! Come in, come in!” she exclaims, pulling Sam in for a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek before leading them into the living room. “And who is this handsome young man?”

“This is Bucky,” Sam replies, shooting his mom a warning glare. Do not embarrass me, he communicates silently. She widens her eyes in response, giving Sam an overly innocent look and covering her heart a touch dramatically with her hands. Moi? her body language says. Sam is not fooled. “Bucky is my co-worker. And my roommate. And my friend.”

“Hello, Mrs. Wilson,” Bucky says, smiling like a goddamn choir boy. “It’s so nice to meet you. I hope you don’t mind that Sam invited me along today.”

Sam most definitely did not invite Bucky along today, but he feels like it would be rude to point that out in front of his mom, who looks very impressed by Bucky’s whole general existence. She looks even more impressed when Bucky presents her with the vase of lilacs he insisted upon buying along the way.

“These are lovely, Bucky! I’m always happy to meet one of Sam’s co-workers slash roommates slash friends,” she says teasingly. “And don’t you look nice! Sam, doesn’t he look nice?”

“You didn’t have to wear a suit to meet my mom,” Sam says with a sigh, rolling his eyes.

They already had this whole argument before they left, but Bucky was adamant about wearing the suit, and honestly Sam didn’t work that hard to try to talk him out of it. Sam didn’t even know that Bucky owned a suit, let alone one that was so perfectly tailored to those shoulders and those slim hips and those long legs. Once Bucky actually put on the suit, Sam suddenly felt like all of his objections were a bit trivial and unnecessary. So now, like an idiot, Sam is also dressed up, wearing a button-down shirt and a navy blue blazer to visit his own mother.

“It’s a Sunday, Sam,” Bucky says reprovingly, in a tone that suggests that the day of the week is somehow relevant to his sartorial choices. Sam’s mom nods approvingly at this, so maybe it’s some kind of weird older generation thing that Sam is too young to understand.

Sam feels a bit ill at the unwelcome realization that Bucky is technically older than Sam’s mother.

Sam’s mom serves them tea and cookies while they catch up, and Bucky is unfailingly polite, charming in a sincere sort of way that Sam should have expected from all of Steve’s stories about growing up together in the neighborhood. It occurs to Sam that Bucky probably developed this skill as a self-defense mechanism against the inevitable havoc that Steve wreaked in their lives, using it to keep the two of them out of trouble with mothers and teachers and, eventually, commanding officers.

When the subject of Captain America comes up, Sam’s mother frowns disapprovingly and says, “I just don’t know why that boy asked you to take on this kind of burden. Is he even retired? Why couldn’t he be Captain America?”

Sam’s mother always refers to Steve as that boy.

“That’s what I said!” Bucky exclaims. “I was furious when Steve said he wanted to pass the shield on to Sam. Why did Sam need to be Captain America? Sam was already a superhero. I mean, he was the Falcon! He could actually fly. How cool is that? Steve could never fly—Steve just fell, usually without a parachute. Being Captain America just meant doing the same thing Sam was already doing, but with an unfamiliar weapon and a lot more attention from bad guys. It seemed so risky and unnecessary.”

Sam is a little stunned at this revelation. He thought the reason Bucky was mad at Steve about the whole Captain America thing was because Steve hadn’t chosen him to be Captain America, not because Bucky was worried about Sam.

Sam’s heart thumps a bit in his chest, warmth flowing through his veins to thaw out a part of him that he hadn’t even realized had been just a tiny bit frozen, an icy chunk he’s been carrying around inside of him ever since he’d accepted Steve’s offer to be the new Captain America. Bucky looks soft and sincere, and Sam didn’t know how much he needed to hear that someone believed in him just as he was—that there was someone who didn’t just think that he’d make a good Captain America but that he was already a pretty great superhero all on his own.

Sam’s mom nods enthusiastically. “Exactly,” she says, then turns to Sam. “I like this one, Sam. He seems so much more sensible than that other boy. That one was always getting you into trouble.”

Bucky chuckles. “Oh, Steve is good at getting people into trouble. But the thing about Steve is that Steve attracts people who are just like him, people who are good and brave and ready to stand up for what’s right no matter what the cost. Sam was fighting for what he believed in long before Steve ever came along. You raised a good man, Mrs. Wilson,” Bucky says, smiling softly at Sam.

And Sam’s heart breaks a little in his chest at this, because he doesn’t think that Bucky realizes that Bucky is the very first person Steve attracted who shared his innate goodness and integrity, because Bucky doesn’t think he’s a hero like Steve and Sam.

Sam’s mom is clearly pleased by Bucky’s compliment, and she looks proudly over at Sam. “Sam is the best man I know,” she says, her voice strong, full of conviction. “I’m glad he has a partner who understands that his heart is just as valuable as his training.”

“Sam’s heart is exactly why Steve chose him as Captain America,” Bucky says. And then he tells her stories about Sam’s new job, stories that are carefully edited to minimize the danger they had faced and to maximize Sam’s capability and competence in dispatching various minor villains. He tells her about all of the countries they’ve traveled to, all the little boys and girls who’ve looked at Sam with stars in their eyes. Bucky makes sure to include Steve in these stories too, subtly but effectively touting Steve’s unflagging loyalty and care and dependability.

Sam remembers Steve telling him that Bucky was the first to shout “Let’s hear it for Captain America!” when they returned from Kreischberg, successfully distracting Colonel Phillips from any disciplinary action he might have been contemplating against Steve for going MIA. It’s hard to throw the book at someone who’s actively being celebrated by hundreds of grateful, cheering soldiers.

Bucky, Sam is beginning to realize, is the greatest hype man Sam has ever seen.

“Thank you so much for a lovely afternoon, Mrs. Wilson,” Bucky says with a kind smile. “It was really nice to meet you.”

“Come back next weekend!” Sam’s mom replies enthusiastically, giving Bucky a warm hug. “You can meet Sam’s sister Sarah and his niece Michelle. They’ll be sorry they missed you this week. Sam, dear, come give your mother a hug.”

When Sam pulls his mother in for a hug, she whispers, “I’m so proud of you” in his ear. Sam flushes a bit, feeling awkward and self-conscious.

“Thanks, Mom,” he says.

***

That night when they’re lying in bed, passing a joint back and forth, Sam makes a long overdue confession.

“I was mad at you, you know,” Sam says apologetically. “When you ran away. And when you didn’t come back after Peggy died. I thought you weren’t being a good friend to Steve. I don’t think—I don’t think I was being very fair to you. And I’m sorry.”

The thing is, Steve had told Sam a lot of stories about Bucky, about how charming and funny Bucky was, what a good friend he was, what a good sergeant he was. In Steve’s stories, Bucky was a giant, a larger-than-life sort of figure, a man who never gave up and never let anyone down.

And maybe Sam bought into all of that mythologizing, because when Bucky didn’t come back to Steve, Sam felt betrayed on Steve’s behalf. And he realizes now, with a sharp pang of regret, that this reaction was deeply unfair to Bucky, based on the legend of Bucky Barnes rather than the man. Because Bucky was supposed to be the loyal Howling Commando from Steve’s stories, Captain America’s Sergeant and Steve Rogers’s Best Friend, the hero who always rescued Steve when he needed it, even when Steve didn’t think he needed rescuing.

And Steve had so desperately, desperately needed rescuing, especially after Peggy’s death. Sam would never forget the sight of Steve Rogers, Captain America, tired and small and so very fragile, dipping under the weight of Peggy’s coffin as he carried her down the aisle.

When Bucky turns to face Sam, there are lines of grief in the corners of his eyes. “I was sorry about Peggy,” Bucky says quietly. “She was my friend too.”

Sam reaches out to brush his thumb along Bucky’s cheekbone, cupping Bucky’s face in his hand. Bucky raises his hand to cover Sam’s, cool metal against Sam’s skin, and Bucky shivers a little under his touch.

“You’re a good friend, Bucky. I’m sorry I thought you weren’t.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Bucky says with a tired smile.

***

When Steve knocks on their open office door, he looks with surprise at the sign on the doorway. “Sam Wilson and James Barnes?” Steve reads aloud, looking concerned. “Sam, they didn’t give you your own office? I feel like Captain America should get his own office. Do you want me to talk to Fury? Because you shouldn’t have to share with Bucky.”

“Nah, it’s cool,” Sam says casually. “Fury gave us two offices, but we just figured it was easier to share since we’re always together anyway. Bucky’s office is our murder board room.”

Steve looks disconcerted by this. “OK,” he says, frowning. “Well, I just came by to let you know that Nat picked up another HYDRA facility on her radar, right near where we found those vampires in New Jersey. She sent you an e-mail with the details.”

Sam doesn’t know why Steve needs to stop by to tell him something that Natasha already sent him in an e-mail, but whatever. There’s something a little bit hesitant in Steve’s expression, a little bit lonely, and maybe Steve just came by because he wanted an excuse to see them.

“Thanks,” Sam says, with a warm smile. “C’mon, let’s go over to the spare office to tell Bucky to put it on our murder board. Make sure you tell him how great it looks, by the way. We spent like thirty minutes at Joann Fabrics picking out just the right shades of yarn to tie everything together. He actually has a whole color-coded system for it, with a key in an Excel spreadsheet and everything.”

While they walk down to go see the murder board, Steve tells Sam all about Bucky’s job as an actuary before the war. Apparently all those years doing informal risk assessment calculations to try to keep Steve from killing himself while they were growing up led to an actual career. “He was actually in college for mathematics when he dropped out to enlist.”

“I wonder if he put that on his resume when he applied for the job,” Sam says. “Actually now that I’m thinking about it I wonder how Bucky fit like 80 years of experience as an actuary, a commando, a brainwashed assassin, an international fugitive, and then a goat farmer on a one-page resume.”

“Wait, Fury actually made you two submit resumes?” Steve raises his eyebrows.

“Nah, just Bucky,” Sam replies, grinning. “I think Fury just wanted to give him a bit of a hard time after he shot him. Bucky actually wrote one up for him too. Wouldn’t let me see it, but if Natasha just so happens to find it anywhere on SHIELD’s servers at some point…”

“I’ll let you know,” Steve says, chuckling.

When they get to the spare office and see Bucky tacking up some new papers on the vampire murder board, Steve’s laughter catches abruptly in his throat. Bucky’s newly short hair is styled today in an appealing combination of his old, neatly parted look and a more modern fashion.

“Bucky?” Steve says breathlessly, his voice thick with emotion.

“Oh, hey, Steve,” Bucky replies awkwardly, raising his hand to his newly cut hair a bit self-consciously. “How does it look?”

“Great!” Steve says fervently, eyes shining. “You look—God, you look so great, Bucky.”

“Thanks,” Bucky says, biting his lip shyly. “Sam cut it for me. Had to look respectable if I was going to meet his mom.”

Steve looks unexpectedly stricken for a moment, but then recovers quickly. “Well, it looks great,” he says. “And you met Sam’s mom! That’s—great. That’s also great.”

“She loved him, of course,” Sam says, rolling his eyes. “He wore a suit. And he brought her flowers.”

“Bucky always did bring my mom a flower when he came to visit, even if he had to steal it from someone else,” Steve says wistfully. “That’s—that’s so great that he still does that.” Steve looks dreadfully, deeply jealous right now, although Sam honestly can’t tell if Steve is jealous of him, jealous of Bucky, or jealous of Sam’s mom. Probably a weird combination of all three.

“Well, it turns out Bucky is great with moms. Even put in a good word for your sorry ass while he was there,” Sam says cheerfully.

“Wow! Good! That’s—that’s so good,” Steve says, his voice a little weak now. “Wait, does your mom not like me? Actually never mind. We can talk about it later. I’ll just—I’ll just be going now. I can see that you two have a lot of work to do, so I’ll just—go.”

When Steve leaves, Bucky raises an eyebrow at Sam. “You think maybe the whole make-Steve-jealous plan is actually working?” Bucky says wryly, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a crooked smile.

Sam stifles a laugh. “Yeah, just a bit.”

***

Sam and Bucky are just getting out of the shower after their run on Saturday when they hear an unexpected knock on the front door.

“I’ll get it,” Sam says, pulling on a t-shirt and a hoodie. Bucky’s still standing in front of the closet, clad only in a gratifyingly small towel as he takes his time deciding what to wear today.

When Sam gets to the door and opens it, he’s surprised to find Steve and Natasha standing in front of him. Steve looks a bit sheepish, but Natasha appears utterly relaxed, at ease in the way that she always is no matter what’s going on or how weird Steve is.

“Surprise!” Steve says awkwardly. He raises his hands briefly like he might be attempting some sort of jazz hands or something, then clearly thinks better of it and sticks his hands in his pockets where they can’t get him into trouble. “We’re here to take you guys out!”

“Sam, sweetheart, where’s our blue sweater?” Bucky calls out from the bedroom.

“Sweetheart?” Steve repeats thinly.

“Our blue sweater?” Natasha repeats gleefully.

Bucky emerges from the bedroom, hands smoothing out a few wrinkles in the aforementioned sweater as he tugs it into place. “Never mind, I found it,” Bucky announces. “Hey, guys.”

“Well, hello, Bucky. So you two share clothes now,” Natasha observes, the corner of her mouth curving blithely upward. “Isn’t that interesting?”

What’s particularly interesting, Sam thinks, is that he is ninety-nine percent certain that he saw Steve wearing that same white t-shirt Natasha has tied neatly at her waist just the other day.

“Of course we share clothes. Why would Sam and I need separate clothes? We wear basically the same size, even if Sam’s shoulders are a bit nicer than mine,” Bucky says, winking at Sam.

“Your waist is trimmer, though. You’ve got that nice lean look going on, it’s really working for you.”

“OK!” Steve interrupts, sounding a bit frantic. He and Natasha trade a few weird, indecipherable looks back and forth and Natasha rolls her eyes. “So we were thinking we would take you guys out this morning, have some best friend time.” Steve says this last part with particular emphasis.

“Great, where are we going?” Bucky asks.

“Actually,” Steve says, “we were thinking about splitting up. Sam, how do you feel about going to a ball game with me?”

“Sure,” Sam says, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “What are Natasha and Bucky going to do?”

Natasha and Bucky have a brief conversation in Russian, gesturing back and forth a bit before Natasha flatly states, “Bucky and I are gonna go to yoga and then get mani pedis.”

“OK,” Sam says, raising an eyebrow in skepticism. Honestly he probably doesn’t want to know whatever it is they’re really planning to do, if only for the sake of plausible deniability. Sam wonders if he and Bucky should think about getting married at some point so they don’t ever have to testify against each other. He should bring it up later, probably not in front of Steve.

***

Steve and Sam are sitting in the sun, relaxing at a Mets game, and Sam has missed this so much. It’s spring, still a bit chilly, but the sun is out and the day’s warming up quickly. Steve looks happy and relaxed, golden hair shining in the sunlight and a little bit of pink on his cheeks and forehead that will fade away before they’re even home from the game tonight.

“So you and Bucky are getting along well,” Steve says, glancing at Sam out of the corner of his eyes.

Sam hums noncommittally, taking a sip of his water. He’d checked the app on his phone to see if any of the beers they had on tap were vegan, but unfortunately none of them were. Which is fine, really, because Bucky’s been nagging him to drink more water lately. In fact Bucky’ll probably ask Sam about it when he gets home, so now Sam will be able to tell Bucky yes, he had a bottle of water today, he’s staying hydrated.

“You don’t think Bucky’s a bit—much?” Steve asks uncertainly. “Some people used to think he was a bit overbearing.”

“Nah, he’s cool,” Sam says mildly, then hesitates. “But, well, he doesn’t have much use for privacy, does he? I mean, he’s always so—around. And so attractive! And sometimes a man needs some time to himself, for personal, intimate things. You know what I’m saying?”

“You’re dying of sexual frustration, aren’t you.” Steve smirks, with a knowing little glint in his eye.

“God, yes.”

“Old Bucky Barnacle. So that’s still his move, huh?” Steve says, his voice wry. “Well, good luck with that. If history repeats itself, I’m sure the situation will eventually come to a head one way or another.”

Sam doesn’t know what to do with that ominous remark, but since it’s such a nice day he decides to let it slide.

“Bucky did say something to me once, kind of struck me as odd. He said that you were his only friend growing up. Which—that’s not true, right? I mean, he’s so handsome and charming and—surprisingly sweet. I feel like a guy like that would have a lot of friends.”

Steve laughs ruefully. “You’d think so, right? But Bucky never really seemed to want other friends, and honestly a lot of people thought there was something a bit—funny, about him. And about me.”

“Funny like maybe you two were a little too close?”

Steve rubs the back of his neck, looking a little flustered. “Yeah, maybe,” he admits. “We were always together. God, Bucky used to get so jealous when I’d make other friends. But he loved me, wanted me to be happy. I think he was happiest when we were a part of the Howling Commandos. He just wanted me to be around people who valued me and appreciated me, I think.”

“He liked Peggy a lot,” Sam says mildly, carefully.

“He talked to you about Peggy?” Steve’s eyes widen slightly in surprise.

“We talk,” Sam says, careful to keep his tone guarded. Sam doesn’t know how much Steve and Bucky have really had a chance to connect after Bucky came back from Wakanda, doesn’t know how much Bucky is comfortable with Sam revealing. He gets the feeling that Steve and Bucky have been dancing around a lot of things for about eighty-five years now. “He likes Natasha too.”

“Does he,” Steve says, with a small, speculative smile.

***

They’re sitting on the sofa, catching up on Riverdale, and Sam can’t believe how much better the show has gotten since the Decimation forced them to write out Archie Andrews. They’ve just finished the episode where Betty Cooper reveals that the murdered Jason Blossom was actually just a clone of the real Jason Blossom—who apparently was in the witness protection program the whole time—when Bucky suddenly announces, “I think we should practice kissing.”

“Yes, absolutely, one hundred percent,” Sam agrees immediately, then pauses. “Wait, why?”

“Well, Steve and I used to practice kissing all the time, so it’s obviously a pretty normal best friend thing to do,” Bucky reasons, gazing earnestly at Sam with wide, too-innocent eyes. “I feel like it would be suspicious if Steve found out I haven’t kissed anyone in almost eighty years and my so-called best friend didn’t help me get back into practice.”

Then Bucky pulls his right arm across his chest, casually stretching the strong muscle in his shoulder, the thin material of his t-shirt straining over his firm bicep. And wow, Bucky really should have been a lawyer or a politician or something, because Sam always finds his arguments extremely convincing. He’s honestly the most persuasive guy Sam has ever met.

“Yeah, OK,” Sam says. “C’mere.”

Bucky leans toward him, hand coming up to touch Sam’s face gently. Bucky’s so close that Sam can feel Bucky’s soft breath against his mouth, and Sam leans forward to rest his forehead against Bucky’s.

“OK?” Bucky murmurs.

Sam hums in response, leaning forward to touch his lips softly to Bucky’s. Bucky’s hand trembles a little on Sam’s face, nerves or anticipation, but then Bucky’s grip tightens and he pulls Sam closer, opening his mouth to capture Sam’s lips between his.

The kiss starts out soft and sweet, tentative, and then slowly grows more passionate. Sam gasps when Bucky’s teeth pull gently at his bottom lip, tugging his mouth open so Bucky can slip his tongue inside. Sam moans and strokes his tongue against Bucky’s, heating burning through his veins as their tongues slide wetly against each other. Sam can feel Bucky’s heart beating right against his own, through their shirts and their skin and their sternums, a pounding, frantic rhythm that matches the pulse of blood traveling directly to Sam’s cock.

Sam tangles his fingers in Bucky’s hair, gripping the short strands in his fist and tugging gently, pulling Bucky’s head right where he needs him. Bucky pitches forward a bit, off-balance, bracing his hands on Sam’s thighs before climbing eagerly up onto Sam’s lap. Bucky is making sweet, urgent little sounds that send a shiver of want down Sam’s spine, and Sam has to pull back for a moment, take a minute to breathe and let his racing heart settle in his chest.

“Sam,” Bucky says, pupils dilated and dark. “Fuck, sweetheart.”

“Yeah,” Sam breathes, panting and fighting to keep his hips still, trying to keep from shifting them up against Bucky’s. “That was—.”

“Good?” Bucky asks, lips curving into a crooked, cocky grin.

“It was all right,” Sam replies casually, feigning nonchalance. “I think you still need more practice. C’mere.”

***

They practice kissing a lot after that, which is great, and also lucky, because when Bucky hisses “kiss me” to Sam in the middle of a HYDRA raid, Sam doesn’t even hesitate.

They’re sneaking into that New Jersey HYDRA facility Natasha found near the gross vampire lair, and Steve and Nat are breaking into one end of the facility while Sam and Bucky creep through the other. They’re trying to be quiet, don’t want to be caught before Steve and Natasha have a chance to get the data off HYDRA’s servers, so when a HYDRA goon stumbles into the hallway with them, Bucky hauls Sam right up against him and kisses him fiercely.

The HYDRA goon makes a noise of surprise and confusion, clearly baffled by the two heavily armed men making out in the middle of a research facility, but Sam’s having a hard time paying attention to him over the feel of Bucky’s lips, which are spit-slick and firm and insistent against Sam’s. When Bucky starts grinding his hips against him—wow, Bucky is really selling this—Sam lets out a low moan that Steve and Natasha will almost certainly hear over the comms.

“What’s going on here? You’re not supposed to be here!” the goon says.

Bucky releases Sam’s lower lip from between his teeth with a loud pop. “Huh? Oh, sorry, guess we got carried away,” Bucky says sheepishly.

“That’s OK, just—hey, wait! You’re the Winter Soldier!” the goon exclaims, apparently catching sight of Bucky’s metal arm.

Steve and Natasha burst into the hallway at that moment, and when the goon turns back around to face them Sam pulls his shield from its harness and throws it at the man, who falls to the floor like a sack of bricks. Sam catches the rebound.

“Oh, hey, guys,” Bucky says with a grin, casually reaching down to readjust the lines of his uniform from where Sam’s fists had wrinkled it during their makeout session. “You didn’t have to come help out. We had everything under control here.”

“Had everything under control here,” Steve repeats. “We saw you on the security cams necking right in front of a guard!”

“Well, sure, but the guy caught us red-handed sneaking down the corridors. Thank God Bucky’s such a quick thinker or that guard would have thought something was suspicious going on,” Sam says, shooting Bucky a grateful smile. Bucky grins back at him. “Using the old pretend-to-be-a-couple-making-out scam was a great call.”

“A great call?” Natasha says, raising her eyebrows. “You’re dressed as Captain America and the Winter Soldier and you’re right in the middle of their facility. In what way did you appear to be two passionate lovers out for an innocent stroll?”

“To be fair, that guard would have no idea if Captain America and the Winter Soldier had a more than professional relationship,” Bucky points out.

“And are you questioning Bucky’s professional judgment as a master of covert operations, Natasha?” Sam says reproachfully, shaking his head in disappointment. “Bucky was a ghost for over fifty years. I think the man knows how to keep from blowing a cover.”

Steve sighs heavily, rubbing his temples in frustration. “Look, let’s just do a quick sweep through the basement, OK? It’s the only place left that we haven’t checked out.”

When they make it down to the basement, Sam is surprised to find that the whole thing has a very distinct incel-with-a-sex-dungeon vibe to it. Which is not really an aesthetic that he thought HYDRA would be embracing, but he’s learned to roll with it when it comes to the weird shit that HYDRA gets up to. The room looks moldy and kind of wet, with a clammy cement wall that has an actual, albeit cheap-looking, coffin propped up against it, right next to some rusted metal chains that look like a serious tetanus hazard. There’s also a microwave and a pretty expensive gaming PC down here, screen turned on to one of those gryphons and gargoyles MMORPGs.

“Is someone living down here?” Bucky asks, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “Or, even worse, is someone living in that coffin?”

There’s only one way to find out. Steve walks over to the coffin and yanks it open, jumping back in horror when a man wearing a neck brace and plastic fangs pops out and cries, “Steve! I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist coming back for me and my vampire babies. And you’ve found my new dungeon!”

His creepy red eyes are on fire with ecstasy.

“Ew, it’s Todd,” Bucky says, making a sour face. “I thought you killed that guy.”

“Yeah, me too,” Steve says with a frown.

“My name isn’t Todd,” Todd says peevishly. “It’s Baron Blood. How would you like it if everyone called you Bucky instead of the Winter Soldier?”

“Everyone does call me Bucky.”

When Todd has the nerve to look judgmental at this, Sam narrows his eyes and snaps, “Bucky is a great nickname.”

“It’s very cute,” Natasha agrees.

“I gave it to him,” Steve says, nodding proudly.

“Did you,” Todd says, eyes widening in alarm. “I didn’t mean to imply that Bucky was a bad nickname! Not at all! In fact, I love it. I was just—pointing out that it might be a tad unprofessional to use someone’s regular name in this kind of formal confrontation between a superhero and his archnemesis. I mean, this is really more like a work meeting, so I think it’s best if we just stick to titles, right, Captain America?”

“You called him Steve, earlier,” Natasha says.

“Well, the relationship between a superhero and his archnemesis really is such an intimate connection,” Todd purrs.

“Gross,” Bucky says.

“Anyway,” Steve says loudly, “Sam is Captain America now, I’m just a regular SHIELD agent. And I’m actually kind of in between call signs right now, so you can just—just call me Steve, I guess.” Steve looks a bit queasy at this.

“Wonderful, Steve,” Todd says smugly, his smile sharp and unnerving underneath those plastic fangs. Then he turns to Sam, looking him critically up and down before disdainfully stating, “I certainly won’t be calling him Captain America, though.”

“Why not? That’s pretty rude, Todd. We’re having a work meeting.” Natasha’s tone is disapproving.

“Well, for one, I’m racist,” Todd explains. “But also there will only ever be one Captain America, and that’s Steve Rogers. This guy’s just the Falcon.”

He says it scornfully, and Sam honestly might have felt a little insulted, but instead he remembers what Bucky said to his mother, that the Falcon was cool, that he could fly, that Sam was a superhero before he ever met Steve Rogers. And so Sam stands tall, raises his head high, and does his fucking job because he is a hero and a professional.

“Whatever, Todd,” Sam says. “I’m going to have to arrest you now.”

Unfortunately, Todd chooses this moment to reveal that he has the ability to transform into a swarm of bats, each of them wearing a tiny neck brace and plastic fangs as they form a small cluster and fly right out of the room and presumably away into the night.

Sam sighs in frustration. “You’re out there somewhere, Blood Baron, and I’ll find you!” he calls out after Todd.

“No, you won’t!” Todd shouts from a distance.

Sam puts his hands on his hips and narrows his eyes. “Yes, I will.”

“Nope!”

Bucky looks around the room, sighing in disgust as he takes in the mess and chaos from dozens of vampire bats flying about, leaving bat fur and guano everywhere.

“Great, now we’re all going to have to get rabies shots,” Bucky complains.

 ***

Sam and Bucky’s whole fake-best-friends plan is working phenomenally well, because ever since that Saturday Steve and Natasha had showed up unexpectedly to take them out, they’ve been regularly scheduling what Steve insists upon calling “best friend dates.” So long as they’re all in the same city, every Saturday they get together in pairs or as a foursome so that no one ever feels left out and everybody gets some quality time with each other.

When Steve and Sam hang out, they usually go to a game or to the gym—not to do any serious training, just to spar, getting sweaty and screwing around trying out new moves on each other. The best part is that for whatever reason the other SHIELD agents seem super reluctant to work out at the same time as them, so Sam and Steve always have plenty of room to wrestle and grapple around on the mats, pinning and taunting each other until someone gets frustrated enough to really slam the other one around a bit.

Sam has no idea what Bucky and Natasha do on their mysterious outings—they claim they’re going to drag brunches or yoga or spin class, but Sam can only guess what kind of sketchy shit a pair of formerly Russian former assassins might get up to together. Thankfully they’re always careful to mastermind their operations in Russian, presumably so that Sam will never be forced to reveal anything incriminating about them if he’s questioned. Bucky takes care of him like that.

Sam’s dates with Natasha are always super weird and fun—they usually end up going to see some kind of crazy conceptual art exhibit or avant-garde foreign film, then get coffee afterward and pretend to be fancy art critics. Or they’ll wander around old flea markets and antique stores and look for insensitive gifts for Steve and Bucky.

Sam is pretty sure that Steve spends his dates with Bucky doing something really homoerotic and intense like drawing semi-nude portraits of Bucky in 1940s military uniforms.

Actually, if they’re not already doing that, Sam should suggest it. He could probably try to pass it off as “healing” or “cathartic” or something, and maybe Steve will even show him the drawings afterward now that Sam has so much experience critiquing art with Natasha.

Today Sam and Natasha had planned on going to an outdoor art fair for their best friend date, because it’s funny to buy Steve tacky cat art and then watch him fumble for an appropriately gracious response, but this morning dawned with the sound of thunder rumbling ominously in the distance. By noon it’s pouring rain, a thick wall of icy water erupting from angry gray clouds, and Natasha is soaking wet when Sam answers the door.

“Jesus, Nat!” Sam says, ushering her into the apartment. “Let me grab you a towel for your hair. Do you want a change of clothes?”

“Sure, but don’t worry about the towel,” Natasha says with a careless wave of her hand. She opens the duffel bag she’s brought with her to reveal a barber’s cape and a pair of shears. “You’re going to cut my hair!”

“Oh, I’m going to cut your hair,” Sam grumbles, rolling his eyes. “Why does everyone seem to think I’m a barber?”

Sam leads Natasha into the kitchen and pulls out a chair for her before heading into the bedroom to try to find a pair of sweats that might fit. Natasha’s tiny, petite even when she wears heels, and it’s easy to forget that about her when she always stands so tall and confident. Sam wonders sometimes if that’s how Steve looked before he got the serum, all tiny and full of courage and swagger. Sam definitely does not think about how he and Bucky might have a type, and instead he grabs a t-shirt and the smallest pair of joggers they own, the ones that pull nice and tight over Bucky’s thighs and ass, before heading back into the kitchen.

Instead of waiting in the chair, Natasha’s standing in the nude, unselfconscious, wringing her clothes out over the sink. Her skin is pale and damp, glistening even in the dim, stormy light of the kitchen. Sam swallows and allows his eyes to trace the path of a drop of water sliding down the side of her neck only until it hits her collarbone, then looks away.

Sam clears his throat and tosses her the bundle of clothes. “Here, put these on,” he says, keeping his gaze averted while he grabs her wet clothes out of the sink. “I’ll put yours in the dryer.”

“Leave the bra out! If you put it in the dryer you’ll ruin it!” Natasha calls after him.

Sam rolls his eyes. “I have a sister, you know!”

Sam hangs Natasha’s bra up above the dryer, and damn, he can see why she doesn’t want him to ruin it. It’s gorgeous, black and lacy and expensive-looking—sexier than the three no-nonsense cotton bras that Natasha rotated between during those two years on the run. Sam smiles as he fingers the lace along the band, a gentle wave of happiness cresting over him at the thought of Natasha finally allowing herself to wear something beautiful.

When Sam returns to the kitchen, Natasha’s dressed, cozy and comfortable in Sam’s favorite t-shirt, joggers rolled up around her waist in an attempt to keep them from hanging onto the floor. Sam tries very hard not to feel any sort of way about how Natasha looks in Sam and Bucky’s clothing.

“So what am I doing here?” Sam asks. He flicks on the light and wraps the barber’s cape around Natasha, snapping it carefully at the back of her neck. Natasha’s hair is already damp, and Sam combs it straight, parting it just above her left eyebrow the way she likes. He’s lost track of the number of times he’s watched her straighten and style her hair this way over the years. “Do you want to keep any of the blonde?”

Natasha shrugs. “Nope, just lop it all off.”

“You’re lucky Bucky’s hair was long enough that I had to watch a bunch of videos on how to cut women’s hair too,” Sam says. He uses the comb to pull her hair taut and then trims off the bleached ends. “Actually, you’re lucky you’re beautiful enough that you can pull off an at-home hair cut from a dude with exactly one professional reference.”

Natasha rolls her eyes and reaches back to pinch Sam’s leg in response.

“Careful!” Sam warns, jerking back to dodge her unnecessarily strong fingers. “If I slip with these scissors, you’re gonna end up with the same haircut I gave Bucky. Do you want to be matching Russian murder twins? Steve and I won’t even be able to tell you two apart anymore.”

Natasha gives him a sly look from beneath her lashes. “Are you saying you and Steve would mind if Bucky and I switched places on you once in a while?”

Sam bites the inside of his cheek and ignores the massive trap Natasha has laid for him, all giant wooden spikes sticking out of a hole in the ground that Natasha’s barely even bothered to camouflage with leaves.

“You and Steve are nasty,” Sam says. “Don’t get me and Bucky involved in your business.”

“Sam,” Natasha teases in a sing-song voice.

Sam ignores her and focuses on trimming her hair, watching the blonde strands drift down to the tile floor. The kitchen is silent around them, quiet enough that Sam can hear the hum of the refrigerator over the soft sounds of the rain pitter-pattering outside, finally beginning to slow.

“Sam, ” Natasha says.

“I’m almost done,” Sam interrupts. He trims one last stray hair that’s escaped from the rest. “You like it just below your shoulders here? If you part it in the middle you’ll look just like you did when I met you.”

“Sam—”

“Here, take a look,” Sam says, handing over the mirror.

He unsnaps Natasha’s cape and busies himself with cleaning up, bringing Natasha’s scissors over to the sink to wash them. Sam soaps up the scissors and watches the storm move off into the distance through the kitchen window. There’s a ray of sunshine peeking through the clouds off to the west, just beginning to hint at the promise of a pretty day ahead.

When he’s done cleaning the scissors, he turns back to face Natasha and catches her smiling at herself in the mirror. “Sam!” she says, her eyes bright and sparkling. “I do look just like I did when you met me.”

“Yeah, Nat, you do,” Sam says with a fond smile, tugging on a lock of Natasha’s hair. “You look just like yourself again.”

The corner of Natasha’s lips tugs up in a wicked grin. “You think I’ve still got what it takes to bring down an entire secret government agency?”

“Nat, you don’t need to bring down an entire secret government agency. You’re gonna run one someday.”

***

The next Saturday Sam and Bucky are making their way through the alleys of Brooklyn on their way to lunch with Steve and Nat, and Sam can’t honestly say that the smell of dumpsters is really doing a lot for his appetite. He’s hopeful that they might run into Steve the cat, but otherwise it would really be nice to just go the regular way for once.

“Man, I don’t think we’re being followed,” Sam says. “Do we really have to go through the whole trash maze today? Can’t we just walk on the streets like regular people?”

Bucky looks concerned. “Wait, what do you mean being followed? Do you think we’re being followed?” Bucky’s spine stiffens and he looks alert, eyes darting back and forth to check the alley entrances for suspicious characters.

“No? But isn’t that why we walk through all these alleys every time we go somewhere?”

Bucky looks shifty for a moment, then embarrassed. “No? It’s really more like—OK, so the truth is—I don’t actually know my way around Brooklyn through the streets,” he mumbles.

“I’m sorry, you just said what now,” Sam says flatly. “Bucky, you grew up here.”

“I know, OK?” Bucky lifts his arm to scratch the back of his neck self-consciously. “But do you know how many fights Steve got into in these alleys? We didn’t have cell phones back then, Sam! The only way to make sure Steve was safe was just to take the alleys everywhere and hope I’d run across him before he got himself killed.”

“Oh my God, you really are the world’s best best friend,” Sam marvels. “No wonder Steve wouldn’t shut up about you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes and trying to hide a pleased grin. “All right, sweetheart, show me how to get there the fancy way. Lead on.”

So Sam leads Bucky out of his weird little warren full of dumpsters and feral cats and into the sunny streets of Brooklyn. Their shoulders and hands bump a bit as they walk along, and Sam’s heart beats a little faster when Bucky briefly tangles their pinky fingers together and gives him a little squeeze.

When they get to the restaurant they find Steve and Nat sitting close together, grinning and laughing and looking fondly at one another, and Sam is surprised to find that he doesn’t feel even the slightest burn of envy at their casual display of intimacy. Instead his heart swells with affection for them, his best friends, and Sam feels thankful that whatever trauma and heartache they’ve suffered over the last five years, at least they’ve finally learned how to express all those emotions they’d been keeping locked so tightly inside of them.

Steve and Nat seem lighter, happier, quicker to offer smiles and physical affection and verbal assurances of love. It’s kind of sweet really, Sam thinks.

Steve and Natasha look happy when they see Sam and Bucky arrive, standing up to give them big hugs and quick kisses on the cheek or the lips. The four of them chat for a while about what else Sam and Bucky have missed over the last five years—they’re still catching up, working their way now through the four legendary albums Taylor Swift released after her boyfriend was lost in the Decimation. She dropped all four albums at the same time, received massive public and critical acclaim, then disappeared for the next four years. Sam is profoundly unsurprised by the revelation that he and Bucky share an appreciation for hot, artistic blonds.

When the subject turns to work and thus to Todd, Sam groans. “So what’s the deal with that guy anyway? I thought you literally beheaded him.”

“I did,” Steve says with a grimace. “But he had that whole neck brace situation going on? So I guess he’s using it to just sort of—hold everything together.” Steve looks a little nauseated at the idea.

“Todd is so gross,” Bucky complains.

“You soaked the shield in holy water blessed by the pope, though, right?” Sam asks, frowning. “Todd’s Catholic, so it should have worked.”

“We did,” Natasha confirms. “Steve took a trip to Rome and went to a special mass and everything.”

Steve turns to Bucky, looking displeased. “Oh! Did you know that they do the mass with the priest facing you now? So now he can see if you’re goofing off in church. And they don’t do it in Latin anymore, so they expect you to actually listen too.”

“Remember when Father O’Connell caught us sneaking comic books into our hymnals and Ma wouldn’t let me see you for a month?” Bucky says, shaking his head and letting out a low whistle. “She always did think you were a bad influence.”

“I honestly thought you were going to die every single night when you snuck up that death trap of a fire escape to my bedroom in the pitch darkness.”

“Well, c’mon, like I was really going to go an entire month without seeing my best friend?” Bucky says, scoffing. “Plus that was like the same month we discovered masturbation so forgive me for being willing to risk death to come see you every night.”

Natasha snorts a little at that, and Sam makes sure to look directly in front of him at Steve so that he does not catch Natasha’s eye.

“Anyway,” Natasha says loudly, clearing her throat. “I think our mistake was in getting holy water blessed by the wrong pope.”

“The wrong pope?” Bucky lifts an eyebrow. “There’s only one pope, Natalia.”

“Not anymore!” Natasha says cheerfully. “After the Snap, there was a huge schism in the Catholic Church between the ‘faithful’ and a group of people who thought that what we actually experienced was the Rapture. There was this whole conspiracy theory that the old pope and a group of cardinals—who were all taken in the Decimation—deliberately suppressed information about the Rapture because it conflicted with Catholic teachings. So the remaining ‘faithful’ cardinals elected one pope, but then another group of cardinals broke off and elected a different pope.”

“What,” Sam says.

“Yup!” Natasha says, eyes alight with amusement. “So the schismatics moved their Holy See back to Avignon in France, but before they did, they—get this—collected the old pope’s ashes and put them on trial.”

“What,” Sam repeats, mouth dropping open in disbelief.

“It was the most batshit insane Medieval farce of a trial I have ever seen, and I grew up in the Soviet Union.” Natasha tips her head in reluctant approval at this lunacy. “So anyway, now there are two popes, and they’ve each ex-communicated the other.”

“So if Todd is a follower of the schismatic pope, then I guess we need to go get some holy water blessed by that guy instead?” Sam says.

“Natasha and I can go,” Steve offers.

Bucky narrows his eyes at this and bumps Sam’s knee under the table. “Nah, Sam and I can go. The last time I was in Avignon, I was in the infantry and it was being bombed by the Germans,” Bucky laments. He knows how guilty Steve feels about the horrors Bucky witnessed in the war before Steve rescued him from Kreischberg. “Plus Avignon is really beautiful this time of year.”

“It will be a healing trip,” Sam says earnestly.

***

One of Bucky’s many mysterious superpowers is that no matter where they are in the world, no matter what part of any city, no matter what language everybody is speaking and whether Bucky can speak it too, Bucky can disappear for fifteen minutes and magically return with the best weed Sam has ever smoked.

They’re at their hotel in Avignon, relaxing after a pretty tense dinner with Pope Stephen X—known apparently to “regular” Catholics as the Antipope of Avignon—and his loony band of schismatics. Sam has already expended the majority of today’s allotted emotional energy pretending that everything this guy did wasn’t deeply weird.

“Do you think he’s actually going to release a papal bull against Destiel?” Bucky asks. He sucks on the end of their joint, cheeks hollowing out attractively as he inhales, before he exhales and passes it back over to Sam.

They’re on the roof of the hotel, where they’re probably not technically allowed to be, but Sam used his wings to get them up here anyway and he’s sure they have some sort of diplomatic immunity or something, right? Probably. They have a gorgeous view of the Rhone, painted dark purple in the setting sun, and the Palais des Papes looks Gothic and romantic as hell surrounded by Medieval ramparts.

“I don’t know, man,” Sam says, shrugging. He feels warm and lazy. “I tried to tell him it’d be political or religious suicide or whatever if he did. Like 40% of the world’s Catholics live in Latin America and they’re all Destiel believers down there.”

They lapse into silence for a moment, and then Bucky says, “Hey, Sam? Do you ever think about submarines?”

“I mean, occasionally, I guess,” Sam says thoughtfully. “Why?”

“I dunno,” Bucky replies, leaning back and looking up at the sky. “It’s just so funny thinking about all the submarines floating out there, hiding from each other. Like, what a ridiculous thing we all decided to do. We just send people out for months at a time and tell them to find other submarines but not to let other submarines find them. And like every major superpower does this, and it costs billions of dollars.”

“That’s a good point, but also you’re high as fuck,” Sam replies, stifling a grin. “Where did you even get this weed?”

“French Mafia,” Bucky responds blithely.

Sam shakes his head in disbelief, wondering when that became a thing. He pours another glass of wine from the picnic basket they brought up with them and takes a sip. “This is a nice ass spread, by the way. You really know how to make a guy feel special.”

Bucky grins in response, and oh, Sam knows that grin.

“C’mere, baby,” Sam says. “Let’s make out.”

***

It takes a while for Natasha to track Todd to his new lair, but eventually she finds it in the Free State of Michigan. Like everything else about the world after the Snap, everything about that situation is confusing as hell too, because when Michigan seceded from the Union, the Upper and Lower Peninsulas actually split apart from each other. It wasn’t even because one peninsula wanted to leave and the other wanted to stay either—they both wanted to leave, but the Lower Peninsula refused to let the Upper Peninsula tag along with them, arguing that they didn’t contribute enough to their tax base.

So now the Lower Peninsula is an independent country known as the Free State of Michigan, while the Upper Peninsula is still a part of the United States of America and is known simply as Michigan. They fought a lot over which peninsula got to keep the name Michigan, and the Upper Peninsula only narrowly won that battle after Ohio got its trashy ass involved.

Finally, after the Battle of Toledo and the total shit show that was the Second Michigan-Ohio War, the United States government finally agreed to let the Free State of Michigan leave so long as they got to keep the Upper Peninsula and call it Michigan. So now the Lower Peninsula is a libertarian hellhole called the Free State of Michigan and Sam has to use his passport to get there.

“Do you even need a passport?” Bucky asks. They’re in the middle of fighting Todd, who’s not actually that good at fighting but is very good at exploding into a group of bats every time they try to land a punch. “You’re Captain America. I feel like this is a situation like the Queen of England, where she doesn’t need a passport because all passports are issued by her.”

“I don’t think that all American passports are issued by me,” Sam says doubtfully. He should probably check with Nick Fury or maybe the President about that, though.

Todd re-forms back into a person just to be a dick and tell Sam he’ll never be the real Captain America.

“You’re an asshole, Todd,” Sam informs him. Then, before Todd can become bats again, Sam slings his shield, already coated in holy water blessed by the Antipope of Avignon, directly at Todd’s neck, busting through his brace and re-severing his head.

 “Nice hit,” Bucky says, whistling in admiration.

Unfortunately, this doesn’t seem to do the trick, because Todd just stands up, gropes blindly for his head, and once he finds it, he poofs into a swarm of bats, each one cradling its little head in its right wing, flying off into the night at a distinctly wonky angle.

“Damn it, Todd!” Sam calls after him. “What the fuck do you even believe in, man?”

***

They don’t stay at a hotel in the Free State of Michigan because it’s a dystopian nightmare where every hotel room is a smoking room and Sam is genuinely concerned about being hunted for sport, so they take the Quinjet back to New York.

They get in late, showering perfunctorily and climbing into bed nude together, too tired to bother pulling on pajamas. When Sam wakes up in the morning, he can see that it’s really more like mid-afternoon, the sun streaming in through their curtains, filling the bedroom with soft, diffused light. Bucky is pressed up against his back, too hot and just a tiny bit sweaty, his hard cock nestled up against Sam’s ass.

When Sam shifts a bit against him, reluctantly considering the prospect of getting up and starting the day, Bucky makes a discontented little noise and wraps his arm around Sam’s chest to pull him back.

“No, come back here,” Bucky mumbles, voice rough with sleep. He throws his leg over Sam’s, trapping him into place, and drops a warm kiss onto the back of Sam’s neck. Sam shivers at the feel of Bucky’s lips against the sensitive skin at his nape, and Bucky’s hand wanders down Sam’s chest and along his flank as he subtly grinds his cock into Sam’s ass.

Sam lets out a low chuckle. “Oh, that’s what you want?” he asks with amusement.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Bucky breathes. “That’s what I want.”

Sam turns over to face him, capturing Bucky’s lips in a slow and dirty kiss. Bucky moans softly, and his hand slides down to blatantly grope Sam’s ass, fingers kneading into the hard muscle. Bucky’s cock is pressed against his, and Sam can’t resist grinding a bit against him.

When Sam pulls back from the kiss, he asks, “You sure about this? Sex changes things.”

“Sure I’m sure,” Bucky says, grinning. “I mean, it’s been awhile, but Steve and I always—”

“Do not tell me you and Steve used to fuck back in the day.” Sam groans, willing his brain not to indulge those mental images.

“Wait, did you and Steve not—”

“No!” Sam says defensively. “Steve and I were best friends, not boyfriends.”

“Sam, first of all, it’s totally normal to fuck your best friend, it’s called friends with benefits. I looked it up, and it’s a thing.” Bucky sounds placid, relaxed, his tone entirely too reasonable, his expression even and unbothered. “And second of all, you and I are only pretending to be best friends, so it’ll be even more fine for us.”

Bucky shifts his hips against Sam again, and Sam stifles a low moan. Sam is absolutely going to go along with this nonsense. God, all of his relationships with all of his friends have gotten so deeply weird ever since Steve came into his life. Steve’s boundary issues with Bucky are infecting the entire rest of the team.

“Yeah, OK,” Sam agrees, then gasps as Bucky leans down to lick and then gently bite Sam’s nipple. The sensation goes straight to Sam’s cock and he can’t resist thrusting his pelvis up against Bucky’s hard abs. “Fuck, baby.”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Bucky says, licking his way down Sam’s chest, mouthing and sucking at the skin on Sam’s lower belly and thighs, soft and gentle and careful, like maybe he doesn’t want to leave any bruises. Sam wonders if that’s a leftover habit from fucking Steve, if Bucky hadn’t wanted to leave marks on Steve’s pale, delicate skin, still so quick to bloom purple even now that his bruises fade in a matter of hours. As Sam pictures Bucky’s mouth on Steve, licking and sucking at him the same way that he’s torturing Sam now, heat spreads through his entire body, his skin on fire.

Bucky spends an excruciatingly long time just teasing and kissing around Sam’s cock before he finally, finally runs his tongue slowly up Sam’s hard length.

“Fuck,” Sam curses, fighting to keep his hips still. Bucky looks up at him from beneath those long lashes, and Sam feels a sharp tug in his lower belly at the sight of those gorgeous gray eyes. “Fuck, please.”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Bucky says soothingly.

He presses a soft kiss to the tip of Sam’s cock and then wraps his pretty lips around him and slides down, maintaining eye contact as he takes Sam deep into his mouth. Sam gasps at all that wet heat surrounding him, shocked by the fire racing down his spine as he feels Bucky swallow him down.

“Bucky,” Sam says helplessly, reaching down to put his hands in Bucky’s thick hair, soft and still messy from sleep.

Sam shifts restlessly, trying not to fuck Bucky’s mouth as Bucky leisurely drags his mouth up and down Sam’s cock, his pace maddeningly, frustratingly slow. When Bucky slides all the way down to the base of Sam’s cock, taking his entire length into his mouth, Sam’s hips jerk involuntarily and his fists clench in Bucky’s hair.

“Fuck, baby, I need—I need—”

Bucky pulls his mouth off Sam’s cock and Sam moans at the loss of that tight heat. Bucky’s eyes are knowing, his lips spit-slick and pink, so pretty and swollen.

“I know what you need, sweetheart,” Bucky says sympathetically, wickedly, his voice rough from Sam’s cock down his throat. “You gonna let me fuck you, Sam?”

“Yeah, God, yeah,” Sam says. Sam’s pulse leaps at the thought, and he takes a deep breath to try to force his racing heart to calm down, to steady his shaking hands.

Bucky kisses his way back up Sam’s chest, leaning over Sam to whisper in his ear, “So gorgeous, sweetheart. Gonna make you feel so good, Sam.”

Bucky reaches into the top drawer of the nightstand to pull out a condom and a bottle of lube. Sam starts to turn over, to bring himself up onto all fours, when Bucky stops him and says, “No, stay there, sweetheart. I wanna see you while I fuck you.”

Bucky grabs a pillow and slides it under Sam’s ass, pulling Sam’s knees up and spreading his legs apart so he can look at him. Sam trembles under Bucky’s gaze, his skin prickling as Bucky’s eyes roam greedily over Sam’s body.

“Fuck, Sam,” Bucky says reverently. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” Sam gasps, arching his back when he feels the slick press of Bucky’s finger at his hole.

He tries not to clench up, tries to relax his muscles as Bucky slides a finger smoothly inside him. Bucky is sweet and soothing, praising Sam as he works his finger in and out of him, telling Sam how beautiful he is, how good he feels, how much Bucky can’t wait to be inside of him. Sam’s poor, neglected cock is dripping precome onto his lower belly, and Sam reaches down to take himself in hand, giving his cock a gentle stroke.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” Bucky says, his eyes hot and admiring as they watch Sam’s fist moving over his cock.

Sam keeps at it, leisurely jerking himself off while Bucky works a second and then a third finger into him. Bucky’s eyes are dark and hungry, and Sam feels aroused and exposed and needy, desperate for more, ready for Bucky’s cock to fuck him open and fill him up. He’s panting and gasping, chanting, “Please, please, please” as Bucky’s fingers stretch and pull at his loosening rim.

“You want it?” Bucky says, ripping open the condom package, pulling out the condom and sliding it down the thick, flushed length of his cock.

“Please, yes, I need it,” Sam begs.

And Sam’s embarrassed by his eagerness, how desperate he is for it, but the humiliation only makes him more aroused, his cock hardening further under his hand. He’s always so quick to say yes to Bucky, so quick to be tempted even against his own common sense, and Jesus fuck is he grateful for that now because that is Bucky’s cock sliding into him, pushing past the tight ring of muscle at Sam’s entrance and filling him up.

Bucky grabs Sam’s legs and hitches them up around his waist, sliding another inch of his thick cock deep inside Sam, who’s gasping and panting beneath him. Sam’s knees tighten around Bucky’s sides, gripping him tight and using his leverage to pull Bucky deeper into him. Sweat begins to form at the small of Sam’s back and behind his knees, prickling at his overheated skin.

“Sam,” Bucky moans. “God, Sam, you feel so good, sweetheart.”

Bucky bends down to steal a wet, filthy kiss as he slides his cock deeper, pushing that last, final inch all the way into Sam. Bucky’s hips are flush against him, and Sam feels so connected to Bucky, with Bucky’s tongue sliding slickly into Sam’s mouth and Bucky’s cock thrusting deep into Sam’s ass, and Sam swears Bucky’s heart is beating in time with his, twin rhythms pounding faster and faster until Sam feels like they’ll both burst into flames.

“C’mon,” Sam urges. “I need it. Please, baby.”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes, leaning down to give Sam one last kiss before he braces himself on his arms and starts moving, slow and deep and dirty, into Sam. Sam’s head falls back as his back arches, and Bucky’s teeth nip gently at the exposed skin of Sam’s neck. Sam reaches down to grab Bucky’s ass, and Bucky inhales sharply when Sam pulls him, hard, so far inside him that Sam feels like he’ll choke on Bucky’s cock.

“Sam—Sam, you—”

“Yeah, baby, please—”

“God, Sam—”

Bucky fucks him so slowly, so sweetly, that Sam feels like he’s going to float off into space, lost in the feel of Bucky’s cock hitting that sensitive spot before dragging back out against his tender rim. Sam moans every time Bucky hits his prostate, feeling his balls begin to tighten and draw up against his body. Bucky’s pace slowly shifts from controlled and relentless to wild and irregular.

“Sam, Sam, look at me,” Bucky groans. Sam opens his eyes to find Bucky looking wrecked, his lips swollen, eyes dark and dazed, looking beautiful and so utterly focused on Sam. Their eyes meet and Bucky holds the contact, biting his lip and moaning. “Sam, Sam, I’m gonna—”

“Yeah, c’mon, do it—”

Bucky comes with a choked cry, shuddering and thrusting his hips erratically against Sam. His body shakes and shivers, breath coming in heavy gasps against Sam’s mouth.

Sam groans and focuses his attention back to stroking his cock, his hand moving faster and faster as Bucky pants and recovers above him. Sam’s almost there, so close, when Bucky leans down to kiss him, teeth biting gently at Sam’s bottom lip, and stars explode behind Sam’s eyes as he spills over his fist.

Bucky is slow to pull out of Sam, kissing him lazily before removing the condom and then collapsing on top of him. Sam wraps his arms around Bucky as they breathe and let their hearts settle, pressed tightly against one another.

“God, Sam,” Bucky says, voice muffled by Sam’s neck, sounding happy and exhausted and overwhelmed.

Sam lets Bucky rest on top of him for a while until he begins to feel suffocated by the weight of an entire supersoldier resting on him. He nudges Bucky to the side a little, and Bucky rolls onto his back, pulling Sam over to rest his head on Bucky’s shoulder.

Sam wonders if Bucky understands that “friends with benefits” usually don’t make love to each other the way that Bucky just made love to him.

“Good, sweetheart?” Bucky asks, pressing a kiss to the top of Sam’s head.

“Yeah.” The corner of Sam’s mouth turns up in a grin. “You did all right.”

“You were pretty good yourself,” Bucky says appreciatively. “Thought I was going to die when I got inside you. Christ, sweetheart.”

They lapse into blissful silence for a moment, and Bucky reaches over to grab Sam’s hand and pull it onto his chest. He plays with Sam’s fingers idly, intertwining their fingers and then pulling back to stroke his thumb over Sam’s palm. Bucky seems utterly relaxed and content, and Sam hates to break the comfortable silence but he just has to ask.

“So,” Sam says casually, “is that always how you fuck? All slow and romantic and full of eye contact?”

“Well, I mean, I’ve only ever had sex with Steve, so I guess so?” Bucky says, frowning. Sam is a little stunned at this revelation, eyebrows shooting upward in shock, because Bucky is one of the most attractive men Sam has ever met and Sam now knows for a fact that Bucky knows how to seduce someone if he wants it. “I guess I’m not really sure how I’d fuck someone other than you or Steve. I mean, maybe Natalia—”

Sam decides to interrupt Bucky before he finishes that interesting thought. “Rumor has it that you were a real smooth operator back in the day, though, taking ladies out on the town and double dating with Steve and going out dancing all night. You’re saying you never seriously tried it on with anybody else?” Sam asks in disbelief.

“Well, I mean, there were girls,” Bucky says slowly. “But I sorta got the feeling that they didn’t really take me seriously? Like, they were happy to go dancing with me, and they’d give me a sweet kiss at the end of the night, but if I tried for anything more they’d just pat me on the cheek and tell me to say hi to Steve for them and I really should take out their friend Betty next week.”

Bucky shrugs, obviously baffled by this behavior, but Sam suddenly understands exactly why Bucky wasn’t very successful with the ladies, and Sam really should have been way less surprised by the fact that even the sheltered Catholic girls of 1940s Brooklyn could tell that Bucky and Steve were deeply weird about each other and Bucky wasn’t exactly available.

“Did you ever want to get married and have a family?”

“Sure, someday,” Bucky says carelessly. “But Steve and I were still young when the war hit. I thought we’d have more time together. And then we didn’t, and Steve met Peggy, and you know how everything went after that.”

“It didn’t bother you when Steve found Peggy?”

“No, of course not,” Bucky says, his eyes shining and earnest. “Peggy was a doll. And I’ve been in love with Steve my whole life. I knew we’d always be best friends. It never even occurred to me that I could ever really lose Steve, not in a way that mattered. After all, who can ever really come between someone and their best friend?”

And that—explains a lot about Bucky’s near fanatical devotion to the very concept of best friendship. Sam shakes his head at this, knowing that there’s probably no point in trying to shake Steve and Bucky out of the wacky coping mechanisms they’ve developed for 1940s homophobia. After over a hundred years that shit has got to be way too deeply entrenched in their psyches.

Sam resigns himself to embracing their crazy on this particular issue. At least Bucky is hot.

***

Sam and Bucky are visiting Sam’s mom, and Sam doesn’t know how his mom knows, but somehow she definitely does know that something is different between Sam and Bucky, and boy does she look thrilled about it.

“Thank you so much for the lovely flowers, Bucky!” Sam’s mom gushes. “And you thought to bring a dish for dinner! Sam never used to bring a dish with him to dinner.” She beams at Bucky, so clearly approving of all of the changes Bucky has brought to Sam’s life, then looks meaningfully over at Sarah and Michelle. “And don’t they look handsome!”

Michelle simply nods obediently at this, because she’s eleven and not particularly impressed by Sam’s too-formal attire, but Sarah gives him a quick once over and then raises her eyebrows in mild surprise at his tailored blazer.

Sam and Sarah have a quick conversation through facial expressions, communicating “What’s all this then, Sam?” and “Don’t make a big thing about it, Sarah,” and “Is he your boyfriend?” and “Shut up, Sarah!” through a series of suggestively waggled eyebrows and narrowed eyes and teasing smirks.

“I hope it wasn’t too much trouble for you to plan a meal without meat, Mrs. Wilson,” Bucky says with concern. “If it’s too much or you don’t want the hassle of meal planning, you’re all more than welcome to come to our apartment for dinner on Sunday nights.”

And the thing is, Bucky’s not being smarmy or insincere about it at all. He would be genuinely happy to have Sam’s family over for dinner every Sunday night, because Bucky likes cooking and he likes Sam and he likes families, and maybe Sam’s starting to feel some kind of way about all of Bucky’s effortless charm and openhanded generosity and muscular thighs.

“So you and Sam are living together,” Sarah says with interest. Even Michelle perks up at this, finally glancing up from her phone, where she’s been texting rapidly or possibly live tweeting this entire embarrassing conversation.

Bucky puts a casual arm around Sam’s shoulders, and come on, Bucky has to know how this looks to Sam’s family, right? “Yep, for probably around six months now, right, sweetheart?” Bucky says, smiling at Sam.

And suddenly Sam realizes that maybe Bucky doesn’t know how this looks to Sam’s family, because Bucky has such an extreme lack of awareness regarding normal friendship boundaries, and also because they’re so far deep into this whole fake-best-friends thing that this is just the way that the two of them act now, all the time.

And, really, Sam has to blame Steve and Natasha for this too, because the two of them are only encouraging this madness with all the “best friends dates” and the excessive physical affection and their own overly invested relationship. Literally no one in Bucky’s life is modeling basic relationship boundaries for him, no wonder he slipped through the cracks of normal human friendship behavior.

And Sam must be crazy too, because he just smiles back at Bucky and says, “Yep, that sounds about right, baby.” Because Sam isn’t really all that concerned about normal human friendship behavior when Bucky looks at him like that, gray eyes all warm and soft and pleased, like Sam’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

Sam’s heart beats a little faster in his chest, warmth traveling through his veins, and oh, this is a thing.

“You know, when you and Steve were living together, he never invited us over to your place,” Sam’s mother points out. Thanks to all of Bucky’s hard work rehabbing Steve’s tarnished image in Sam’s mother’s eyes, Steve has been upgraded from that boy to Steve, always stated with a faint moue of distaste.

“Steve and I were international fugitives, Mom,” Sam replies, his tone patient. “We didn’t have a stable place to invite you to.”

“And whose fault was that!” Sam’s mom says triumphantly.

“Mom, I made my own choices when it came to the Accords.”

“Sam’s not a follower,” Bucky agrees, and it’s sweet that Bucky thinks so but Sam realizes now that that is a complete lie, because Sam has done nothing but follow Bucky along in this foolishness ever since he felt Bucky’s body pressed up against him in a closet. “And if anything it’s probably my fault how everything went down. I was the one they blamed for that bombing—Steve and Sam were just trying to help me. They really are the best friends I could ever ask for, and I’m still not sure I was worth everything they went through for it.’”

And maybe it’s just a fluke of the phrasing, maybe Bucky didn’t really mean it, but Sam can’t help but notice that this is the first time Bucky has ever used the plural form of the term best friend.

“Oh, dear, that wasn’t your fault!” Sam’s mother protests. “You were framed for that bombing!”

“Well, it certainly wasn’t Steve’s fault either, Mom.”

Sam’s mother sniffs. “Well, I still think Steve could have made more of an effort to get to know your family.”

“I’m still friends with Steve, Mom,” Sam says, rolling his eyes. “Our friendship is not past tense, we’re not, like, broken up or something.”

“Then why isn’t Steve here for Sunday dinner with the rest of the family?” Sam’s mother gestures around the table at the five of them, and Sam’s heart skips a beat as he realizes that his mother is including Bucky in the family.

Sarah and Michelle are observing this conversation with ill-concealed glee, unabashedly enjoying Sam’s friendship-slash-relationship-slash-familial drama. Bucky’s arm is still wrapped around Sam, his thumb rubbing absent little circles on Sam’s shoulder, and Michelle is tapping away on her phone as she watches. Sam doesn’t have high hopes for this staying off the internet when he catches Michelle snapping a surreptitious photo of Sam tucked in snugly under Bucky’s arm.

It’s Bucky’s metal arm, too, so no chance of passing Bucky off as some random dude.

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, Sam thinks. He leans over and gives Bucky a soft kiss on the mouth right in front of his family.

***

Sam and Bucky are fooling around on the sofa after finishing season one of The Mandalorian—apparently Pedro Pascal’s bedroom voice really does it for both of them—and Sam is finally getting the chance to trace Bucky’s abs with his tongue the way he imagined every single time he jerked off in the shower back before Bucky started taking showers with him.

Sam shifts down to suck a bruise into the sharp jut of Bucky’s hip bone, and Bucky moans underneath him. Bruises don’t last any longer on Bucky than they do on Steve, but Sam still likes seeing Bucky’s fair skin mottled with fresh marks, likes the possessive little thrill it sends through him to see Bucky’s perfect flesh marred by Sam’s mouth and teeth.

“Sam, please, suck me, sweetheart,” Bucky begs.

“Yeah,” Sam agrees, pulling Bucky’s boxer-briefs down his hips and watching in satisfaction when Bucky’s hard cock springs forward, flushed and thick and perfect. Sam is impatient tonight, wants Bucky’s cock in his mouth now, and he leans forward to swallow Bucky down in one long, slick slide.

“Fuck, Sam,” Bucky moans.

Sam grabs Bucky’s hips as he bobs his head up and down, fingers digging in tight, bruising, to keep Bucky from thrusting into Sam’s mouth. Bucky is strong enough that he could easily break Sam’s hold but he doesn’t, squirming restlessly underneath Sam, frustrated and needy and desperate.

Sam pulls off Bucky’s cock long enough to take in a big gulp of air before he slides back down, taking Bucky as far back into his throat as he can, and Bucky moans brokenly when Sam tightens his mouth and lips around him. Sam sets a steady rhythm, swirling his tongue around the head of Bucky’s cock and then sucking him back down again, spit slicking up the way. Sam reaches up to roll Bucky’s balls between his fingers, squeezing and tugging gently, admiring the heft of them in his hand.

“God, Sam, Sam,” Bucky chants, hands fisting in the sheets to keep from grabbing Sam’s head and fucking his face. “Sam, sweetheart, I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

Sam moans around Bucky’s cock, and Bucky cries out, tapping Sam’s shoulder in a desperate warning before he breaks Sam’s hold on his hips and thrusts forward, flooding Sam’s mouth with come. Sam swallows him down, bitter and salty, and then leans forward to rest his head against Bucky’s pelvis and catch his breath.

“God, Sam,” Bucky says, panting. He looks flushed and beautiful, and Sam’s heart feels like it’s going to explode in his chest.

“I love you too,” Sam says helplessly.

Bucky looks awestruck for a moment, then says, “C’mere,” in a rough voice.

He pulls Sam up and gives him a quick, hard kiss, then reaches down to unbutton Sam’s jeans and slide his hand around Sam’s cock. He strokes Sam firmly, a brutal pace that drives Sam half out of his mind. Sam’s already so hard from sucking Bucky’s cock, can still taste Bucky’s come in his mouth, and he won’t need much to get there.

“Baby, please, I need—”

“I know what you need, sweetheart,” Bucky says comfortingly. He buries his head in Sam’s neck, biting down on the thick cord of muscle that leads to Sam’s shoulder, and Sam’s back arches in pleasure. Bucky strokes him just a little faster, almost enough, thumb rubbing at that sensitive spot right beneath Sam’s glans. “C’mon, sweetheart, come for me.”

And Sam does, come splattering over his lower belly, mind going blissfully blank and toes curling in pleasure. While Sam comes down from his high, Bucky reaches up to cup Sam’s face in his hand, stroking his thumb tenderly over Sam’s cheek. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

Sam leans forward to kiss him, losing himself in the warm heat of Bucky’s mouth, their lips moving in a slow, gentle slide against each other. They make out lazily for a while, hands roaming appreciatively over each other’s bodies, until Sam reluctantly pulls away to clean up.

When Sam returns to the living room, Bucky is sitting in the dim light of the television, chewing anxiously at his lower lip. Sam plops down next to him, turning on his side to face him and putting his feet in Bucky’s lap.

“Did you mean it?” Bucky asks uncertainly. “It wasn’t just, like, a heat of the moment thing?”

“I did,” Sam confirms, his voice sure and steady. “Did you mean it?”

“God, yes, Sam. I love you.”

They look at each other dopily for a while, then Bucky tugs at Sam’s legs to urge him further down the sofa, closer to Bucky. They curl up together and enjoy the comfortable silence until Bucky says, “Tell me something you’ve never told Steve.”

Sam thinks for a moment, then groans. He covers his face with his hands, peeking embarrassedly through his fingers, and says, “OK, so I went through a phase, when I first got out of high school, where I told everybody to call me Snap Wilson.”

Bucky laughs incredulously, then claps a hand over his mouth to stifle it, mostly unsuccessfully. “I’m sorry, you told them to call you what now?” he asks gleefully.

“I told them to call me Snap Wilson,” Sam grits out. He is already regretting this, but Bucky looks so fucking elated that Sam can’t bring himself to care too much about the inevitable teasing he’s going to receive. And it’s Bucky, not Steve or Natasha, so Sam knows that the ribbing won’t be too savage.

Bucky is already trying to suppress his wild grin, pressing his lips together until they turn almost white. “So was this like a rough time you were going through, like trouble at home or something, or did you just think Snap Wilson sounded cool?” His voice is a mixture of genuine concern and barely concealed amusement.

“I just thought it sounded cool,” Sam confesses.

Bucky laughs in delight, and Sam gives him a sour look, poking him in the side. “Yeah, yeah, your turn now, buddy,” Sam says. “Tell me something you’ve never told Steve.”

Bucky sobers up, clears his throat and says, “I didn’t enlist in the Army.”

“What?”

“I let Steve think that I enlisted, because I didn’t want him to know that I had to drop out of college to pay for his medical bills when he got sick the winter of ’41. Got called up shortly after, told him that I enlisted.”

Sam’s heart breaks a little at that, for Bucky, because he would have done anything to take care of Steve, and for Steve, who never would have forgiven himself if Bucky had gotten drafted and sent home in a body bag on his account. To this day Steve still feels guilty about leaving Bucky behind in that ravine, even though he had no reason to believe that Bucky could have survived the fall, and anyway Steve drove a plane straight into the Arctic like a week later and couldn’t have rescued Bucky anyway.

“So wait, how does Steve think you paid for his medical bills?”

“I told him I got paid to pose for some dirty pictures,” Bucky says with a saucy grin. “Then he asked to see them and I had to beg one of his photographer friends to take some for me to try to sell the whole embarrassing lie. Honestly I was a little flattered that Steve had exactly zero questions about the whole thing, like of course someone would pay to see me jerking off wearing a pair of women’s stockings.”

Sam raises his eyebrows at that. “Any chance those pictures are still around somewhere?”

“I’m pretty sure Steve burned them all before he headed out on the bond circuit,” Bucky says with regret, then brightens. “But on the plus side, I think I just came up with a great idea for the erotic portrait series Steve’s been working on during all of our best friend dates.”

Sam grins cheerfully at this. “Nice.”

***

A month later, they’re in Eastern Washington with Steve and Natasha, fighting off a horde of formerly human white nationalist cult members who are now a group of largely mindless but probably still racist vampires.

The vampires aren’t much of a threat, but there are a bunch of them and they’re good at causing enough chaos that it’s hard to get close to Todd, who’s in a neck brace again and back on his bullshit.

Sam’s done a ton of research on Catholicism since the last time they met and he’s still not sure how to finally kill this guy. The holy water blessed by the Roman pope didn’t work, and the holy or possibly unholy water blessed by the Antipope of Avignon didn’t work, and Sam’s pretty much run out of popes to get holy water from. Out of a commitment to preparedness Sam’s brought along vials of leftover holy water from each pope, but he’s honestly not sure if they’ll be much help to them if neither of them even works.

Sam, Bucky, and Steve are all covered in blood from the vampires they’ve slain so far, but as usual Natasha still looks perfectly pristine as she lectures Todd on his many sins and hypocrisies. God, she even had the audacity to wear a white uniform to this. Sam’s heart swells with affection for her.

“I thought you were supposed to be Catholic, Todd. It’s not very pro-life of you to create all these vampires,” Natasha says, shaking her head in disapproval.

“I’m just trying to make humanity great again,” Todd snaps defensively through his ridiculous plastic fangs. “Society works best when there are a few strong leaders and many weak, dependent followers. HYDRA believes in order. The Catholic Church used to believe in order too—it used to understand the value of an authoritarian system of governing its followers.”

And just like that, Sam understands Todd’s belief system. “He’s a Sedevacant!” Sam announces, pointing a finger in triumph.

“What?” Bucky asks, firing a crossbow into a vampire trying to latch its fangs into Steve’s calf. The vampire explodes in a shower of red, and Steve wrinkles his nose in disgust but keeps fighting. At this point there’s not very much of Steve that isn’t covered in blood, and Sam hopes they aren’t all going to have to worry about bloodborne diseases from this whole gross situation.

“Remember all those changes in the Catholic Church since you and Steve were kids? Those all came about after the Second Vatican Council in the 1960s. Sedevacants believe that the church lost its way and fell into heresy when it embraced modernism. So according to them there is no valid pope—the seat of the pope is actually vacant,” Sam explains, tossing his shield off to behead a vampire looming over Bucky.

“Thanks, sweetheart!” Bucky calls, blowing him a kiss.

“Great,” Natasha says, irritated. “And how are we supposed to get holy water blessed by no one? Wouldn’t that just be regular water?”

Sam frowns in dismay at this terrible, zany loophole Todd has apparently discovered.

Todd cackles triumphantly. “You can’t! You’ll never be able to kill me—there’s no holy water on earth that’s been blessed by no one,” Todd boasts. “I’m invincible!”

“Not so fast,” Bucky says, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Sam, do you still have both vials of holy water?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Mix them together!” Bucky says. “Holy water blessed by the pope plus holy water blessed by the antipope will cancel each other out.”

Todd’s eyes widen in horror. “No, that won’t work!”

“It’s simple math, Todd,” Bucky says smugly. “Sam, do it, I’ll cover you!”

Sam’s hands are steady as he unscrews the tops of the bottles, sure in the knowledge that Bucky will have his back if any vampires try to latch onto him while he’s busy. He coats the shield in holy water from each of the vials, making sure to cover every square inch. Then, with a mighty throw, he launches the shield toward Todd, nailing him directly in the throat.

When Todd’s head is blown back off his body, he explodes into a bloody, disgusting mess.

“Gross,” Steve says.

The baby vampires stumble around, confused and lost without their leader, and it only takes about twenty minutes for Sam and the others to slay the rest of them now that Todd’s dead.

 Sam makes a mental note to use all of his influence as Captain America to get Bucky an honorary doctorate in mathematics from Harvard or Yale or something after all this.

***

Sam and Bucky spend forty-five long minutes showering off all the blood after their showdown with Todd and his racist vampire gang, the last fifteen of which are spent with Bucky pressed up against the shower wall with Sam’s tongue in his ass.

“Fuck, sweetheart, please,” Bucky begs. He’s trembling and squirming, spreading his legs shamelessly for Sam. “Fuck me, Sam, please.”

Sam reaches down to squeeze the base of his cock, liquid heat pooling in his belly at the thought of sliding his cock into that tight hole he’s been eagerly, methodically loosening. Bucky’s hands are pulling at his own ass, spreading his cheeks so sweetly, so obediently for Sam’s mouth. Sam traces a finger around Bucky’s wet rim, poking in just a bit to test him out, and Bucky’s thighs twitch and shake around Sam’s face.

“You think you can take it standing up?” Sam asks, giving Bucky an assessing look.

Bucky bites his lip and sobs a bit, panting and gasping, his face pressed up against the shower wall. Bucky looks wrecked already, so pretty, and Sam decides to take pity on him.

“C’mon, baby, let’s go to the bedroom,” Sam says, standing up and shutting off the shower.

He wraps Bucky in a towel and leads him to the hotel bedroom, and Bucky shivers prettily in the cool air, goosebumps rising on his clean, damp skin. Sam crowds Bucky against the mattress to warm him up, leaning his head down to dip into the wet heat of Bucky’s mouth, sliding his tongue against Bucky’s in a dirty kiss that leaves them both moaning.

Sam grabs the lube and Bucky spreads his legs eagerly, obscenely, and the sight is so erotic that Sam feels like he’s been punched in the gut, breathless with desire and desperate to plunge his cock into all that tight, willing heat. His hands shake a bit as he fumbles with the lube, and he coats his fingers until they’re nice and slick, ready to slide right in with just the slightest amount of pressure.

Bucky gasps when Sam slips one long finger into him, biting his lip and arching his back. “Sam, more—I need—”

“I got you, baby,” Sam says, sliding another finger in next to the first. Bucky’s mouth gapes open, his throat emitting a choked off little cry, and Sam’s cock is achingly hard at the sound, weeping messily against Sam’s belly, dripping little trails of precome. Bucky’s a quivering mess underneath him, and Sam presses wet kisses between Bucky’s thighs as he ruthlessly opens him up. “God, look at you, baby.”

Sam gives him another finger, and Bucky takes it, keening and begging. “More—please—Sam, I want your cock.”

“Oh, you think you’re ready for it, baby?”

“Yes, please, Sam,” Bucky whines, and Sam reluctantly removes his fingers, climbing up to settle his body over Bucky’s, letting gravity pull him down so they’re pressed tightly together. Bucky may be sweet and pliant underneath him now, but Sam knows how strong he really is, how easily he can bear Sam’s weight.

When Sam starts pushing his cock inside of him, Bucky gasps, mouth opening in a small o of pleasure. Sam fucks Bucky shallowly until he grows impatient, needs to go deeper, grabbing Bucky’s thighs to pull them up so he can bend Bucky in half underneath him. Bucky’s limbs are long and flexible, moving easily as Sam moves him right where he needs him. Sam bites his own lip, hard, as Bucky’s hole pulls him in, clutching greedily at Sam’s throbbing cock.

When Sam slides all the way home, Bucky gasps and says, “Sam, Sam, wait—”

Sam pauses, his cock buried fully inside Bucky, panting harshly at the effort of keeping his hips still.

“Yeah, baby,” Sam says, voice straining. “What do you need?”

“Sam,” Bucky says, and he sucks in a deep breath, closing his eyes and visibly working to control himself. “Sam, I need to tell you something.”

Sam looks down at Bucky and waits, letting Bucky take the time he needs to settle. Sam’s hips are flush against Bucky’s ass, his cock seated fully inside of him, and he feels so connected to Bucky, like they’re two parts of the same whole.

Bucky pants raggedly for a few moments, squirming and restless under Sam, until he calms again, opening his eyes to look at Sam. Bucky’s lashes are long and gorgeous and damp, his pupils dark and dilated.

“Sam, I have to tell you,” Bucky says, flushing prettily, his wide eyes so earnest and sweet. “I—somewhere along the way, I want you to know, everything became real for me. You—you really are my best friend.”

Sam closes his eyes, heart so achingly full in his chest.

“You’re my best friend too,” Sam says softly, seriously, because he knows this is important to Bucky. “I love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.” Bucky’s eyes are wet and shining.

Sam grinds his hips against Bucky’s ass, his lips curving up in a dirty grin. “You gonna let me fuck you now?” Sam asks. Bucky gasps, hands coming up to grip Sam’s back, fingers digging in bruisingly hard.

“Yeah, Sam, yeah, fuck me,” Bucky breathes.

Sam pulls out and then slams his hips back into Bucky, who gasps in surprise, spine arching in pleasure. Sam sets a hard and deep rhythm, letting loose all of the leftover tension and stress from the fight earlier, taking all that frustrated energy out on Bucky’s willing body. When Sam nails Bucky’s prostate, Bucky’s hands scrabble over Sam’s back, clutching and pulling at him frantically. “Yes, there, there,” Bucky says, voice desperate and breathy.

Sam drives his cock into Bucky faster, pounding harder as he feels his balls tighten and heat race up his spine. He’s close, so close, and he leans down to brace himself on one elbow so he can reach down to grab Bucky’s hard cock. He can tell from the noises Bucky’s making, those sweet, high whimpers, that Bucky isn’t far behind him. When he strokes Bucky hard, his fist sliding brutally up and down Bucky’s cock, Bucky arches his back and comes, spilling all over his sweaty chest.

The sight of Bucky’s come, pearly and glistening over his taut abs, sends Sam over the edge. Sam’s hips jerk and stutter, his thrusts erratic, shuddering as he feels his balls empty into Bucky’s tight hole. He wants to collapse, wants to let go and fall onto Bucky, let Bucky catch him and hold him, but instead he pulls out. Bucky whines quietly at the loss, and Sam can’t resist reaching down to rub his fingers against Bucky’s wet, puffy hole, admiring the slow trickle of Sam’s come dripping out of him. Bucky shivers at the touch of Sam’s fingers to his abused hole, probably raw and oversensitive, and Sam reluctantly drops his hand.

“Sorry,” he says, kissing Bucky’s knee in apology.

“S’ok,” Bucky slurs. “Like it when you get all vulgar and possessive on me.”

“Speaking of possessive,” Sam says, heaving out a heavy sigh and collapsing back onto the bed next to Bucky, hooking his ankle over Bucky’s. “Can we talk about the whole fake-best-friends thing? Like, where are we with that and what was our endgame there?”

“Well, I guess I was wrong about only having one best friend,” Bucky admits, looking at Sam out of the corner of his eye and grinning bashfully. “And I guess the plan was just—make Steve jealous.”

“And?” Sam prompts.

“And—I think that was it? I’m not really sure where I saw it all working out,” Bucky confesses.

“I feel like maybe you’re not all that great at planning without a murder board.”

“I’m a visual planner,” Bucky says defensively. “And it seemed kind of disrespectful to make a murder board about Steve given the fact that I did, in fact, try to murder him several times as the Winter Soldier.”

“That’s fair,” Sam concedes, tipping his head to acknowledge the point. “But we’re good now, right? I mean, we’re best friends with each other, we’re best friends with Steve and Natasha, Steve and Natasha are also best friends—and I’m kind of crazy in love with you.”

“What I’m hearing you say here is that my crazy plan worked.”

“Yeah, OK,” Sam says, hiding a smile. “Maybe it did.”

***

It’s a Saturday, and Sam and Steve are on their best friend date, and Steve is kicking Sam’s ass in the gym. Sam knows, intellectually, that he’s in fantastic shape and that there’s no shame in being beaten by a scientifically enhanced human being. That doesn’t mean that it doesn’t still hurt his pride—and his back, motherfucker—when Steve manages to take him down hard without even having the decency to break a sweat.

“I think that’s about enough for today. I feel like I’ve done a pretty good job wearing you out,” Steve says, smirking like an asshole, because he is an asshole. “Let’s hit the showers.”

When they get to the SHIELD locker room, it’s nearly empty, the way it usually is on Saturdays. There are still a few particularly dedicated SHIELD employees roaming about, mostly new guys. For whatever reason most of the seasoned employees stay away from the gym locker room on Saturday afternoons when Sam and Steve work out. Today, when people catch sight of Sam and Steve walking in, they blanch and immediately speed up with whatever they’re doing, hustling out of the locker room like it’s on fire or something. In under two minutes, Sam and Steve are the only ones left.

“It’s weird how everybody always leaves when they see us coming in to shower together,” Sam remarks, stripping off his sweaty shirt and tossing it in his locker.

“I wonder if they’re intimidated by us,” Steve muses, then takes a moment to admire Sam’s bare chest. Steve’s eyes are hot and appreciative as they travel lazily up and down Sam’s torso.

Sam shrugs in response, then winces as he feels a muscle tighten up in his back. “Ouch,” Sam hisses. “Man, I know I’m not twenty-five anymore, but damn, I really don’t need the reminder, you know?”

Steve’s brow furrows in concern. “Here, let me take a look at that when we get in the shower.”

They finish undressing and then get into the shower together. They share a stall, because Steve read an article about water conservation that he apparently found very inspiring, and also because sometimes it’s nice having a buddy with you. Sam lathers himself up, and then out of habit he reaches over to spin Steve around so he can wash Steve’s back too.

“God, that feels good,” Steve moans, the sound of it echoing in the strangely empty locker room. Sam spends a good few minutes really working Steve over as he scrubs Steve’s back, groping and kneading at Steve’s lats and traps while Steve moans and arches his back in pleasure.

When Sam finishes, he gives Steve a little pat and says, “OK, you do me.” Obligingly, Steve turns around to rub Sam’s back, massaging the tight muscles, his hands sliding easily over Sam’s skin with the slick of Sam’s body wash.

“This where it hurts?” Steve murmurs, digging his fingers into Sam’s lower back. “God, you’re really tight here.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, groaning at the pleasure-pain of Steve working at the sore point in his lower back. He huffs a frustrated, petulant sigh. “You know, sometimes I feel like the more I lift, the tighter I get.”

“Maybe you should start going to yoga with Bucky and Natasha,” Steve suggests. “Actually, they’re starting a class in about twenty minutes. If we hurry up in here, we could probably meet them there if you want.”

“Wait, Bucky and Natasha are at yoga today?” Sam asks in disbelief. “You’re telling me that Bucky and Natasha go to yoga? That’s what they’re doing on their best friend dates?”

Suddenly, Steve looks very anxious and very guilty.

“Wait,” Steve says slowly, apprehensively, “Bucky does tell you what he does on his best friend dates, right? He—I mean, you do know—”

“Yeah, Steve, I know,” Sam says, his tone dry. “I just thought yoga was, like, a cover for something. I didn’t think they were actually going to yoga.”

“Oh!” Steve brightens. “Yeah, it’s doing some really amazing things for Bucky’s flexibility. And for Natasha’s ass.”

Sam shrugs. “All right, then, let’s head over.”

Sam and Steve finish up in the shower, moving more quickly than their usual leisurely Saturday afternoon locker room shower pace. Sam’s skin is still a bit damp under his fresh gym clothes, but the air outside is warm, and he’ll be sweating again soon anyway once he starts working out in the humid yoga studio.

When Bucky and Natasha see Sam and Steve, their faces light up with big smiles.

“Hey, sweetheart!” Bucky says, coming over to give Sam a hug and a kiss while Natasha does the same to Steve. “You and Steve are done earlier than usual.”

“Yeah, he whooped my ass,” Sam admits, scratching his jaw.

Sam and Steve switch hugging partners, and Nat’s body feels small and strong in Sam’s arms when she goes up onto her tiptoes to give him a warm hug and a kiss on the lips. And when Sam sneaks a look downward, he notices that Steve was not lying about all the great things yoga’s been doing for Natasha’s ass.

Sam lets go of Natasha and turns back to Bucky. “So you and Nat really do yoga,” Sam says, shaking his head ruefully. “You know, all this time, I thought you two were doing some secret spy shit that you were trying to keep me from having to answer questions about? I was half-convinced that we should be thinking about getting married just so we wouldn’t have to testify against each other.”

Steve and Natasha raise their eyebrows in surprise, but Bucky looks pleased at that. “Well,” Bucky says, lips curving up in a crooked grin, “let’s not take that marriage idea off the table just yet.”

Natasha clearly aims for a sober expression, but the corner of her lip twitches and her eyes sparkle with mirth. “You know, I can’t say that we’ll definitely never get up to any secret spy shit, Sam. Maybe it’s not a bad idea to keep that in your back pocket.”

Steve raises an eyebrow and nods thoughtfully. “Plus, do we even know if Bucky’s still considered an American citizen?”

“I’m honestly not sure,” Bucky admits. “But being married to Captain American should grant me automatic citizenship, probably.”

Sam shrugs placidly and slings an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “Sounds like a good plan to me.”

After all, Sam’s mom always did say that happiness was being married to your best friend.

[anjuschiffer]

Amira Wayne [Unclassified]

So I’m creating a series dedicated to unused chapters/scenes from Amira Wayne... Since these aren’t part of the actual fic, I will not be using the same tags from the fic themselves. If you wanna be tagged, just comment on the pieces themselves or send an ask :D

-

This was originally going to be the official Day 6 fic, but then I ended up changing the plot too much to be able to use it...

If I had followed my OG plot, then by this chapter, Bruce, Dick and Amira would still be in good terms, healthily healing from Jason's death.

Also, Tim would've be adopted by Bruce when Amira finds out that Tim has been severely neglected by his parents.

-

Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan

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MASTERLIST | A03

-

Day 6 - Deleted Chapter

It was another boring day at the WatchTower, some of the heroes lounging around while those with proteges kept an eye on them. 

Wally was immersed into the new game Tim had brought in the other day, only for his ears to catch the sound of the zeta tube opening.

While his first thoughts were to ignore it, the voice of the person to whom had just come changed his mind.

“Hello everyone! Sorry for our delay! Batman has a few things to work out before coming here, so I hope these pastries make up for it.” 

“And you are?” Wonder Woman asked, wondering who this child was. 

“Diana. Barry. Arthur. Meet Ladybug, Batman’s war-“ Superman started, only to get cut off. 

“Bug!” Wally squealed with a grin on his face, running up to hug his favorite person in the world as soon as she finished handing the box over to Superman.

Sure, the two have only met a few times, but can you blame Wally? She made the best cookies in the world! And not only that, she was able to get on Batman’s good side! Batman even let her drive the Batmobile!

Ladybug erupted into a fiery pink blush, earning chuckles and giggles from some of the adults in the room. 

She quickly averted her eyes when she saw Bart and Uncle Kent smile at her, Diana giving her a knowing face. Arthur simply looked at her with confusion, Ladybug hoping he wouldn’t figure out why she seemed so familiar with him. 

“S-See too nice to you! I mean! Nice to-to see you too!” Ladybug stammered, hoping he wasn’t able to hear her heart. 

Who was she kidding? Of course he was probably able to hear her hearty happily thumping away. 

Wally finally let go of Ladybug, grinning at her. 

“You won’t believe who’s here!” Wally said with a smile, catching Amira’s attention. 

While this wasn’t Ladybug’s first time at the WatchTower, it certainly was her first time on her own and having to meet other League members. As far as Wally knew, Ladybug had only met Superman, Wonder Woman, Aquaman and Flash. And maybe Martian Manhunter...once. 

“Who?”

“Hal! You know? Green Lantern!” 

At those words, Ladybug gaped, a smile quickly overcoming it. 

“No way! This is probably the first time I’ll be able to properly meet him! Oh no!” Ladybug quickly brought her yo-yo to her face, checking for any flour left behind. “I want to make a good impression. Wally, do I look alright?” She asked as she put her yo-yo away. 

“Splendid as ever.” He replied with a grin, causing her to blush once more. 

“Careful there. Wouldn’t want Batman to hear those words towards his new ward.” Bart reminded Wally, taking a cookie from the box Ladybug had brought in for them. 

“Relax.” Wally assured, grabbing hold of Ladybug’s hand. “Now, let’s go and find Hal! He’ll be so excited to finally meet you!”

“I hope I make a good first impression.”

“He’s going to love you!” Wally said, giving her a toothy grin. “You’ll see.”

Wally and Ladybug ran through the doors, Flash and Wonder Woman following them, not wanting to miss the events that have yet to happen.

Arthur, meanwhile, fought with his thoughts, attempting to connect the dots in his mind. 

-

Bruce let out a sigh as he finally got to the WatchTower an hour and a half later, surprised to see Clark sitting near the Zeta Tube waiting area.

“Kent. What are you-”

“Waiting for you.” He quickly replied, handing Bruce a napkin, a bat shaped cookie on it. “Aside from Amira being a kind girl, she’s also quite the baker. Alfred must be happy to have a set of hands to help him around the kitchen.”

Clark had accidentally found out about Amira being Ladybug one foggy night while visiting Bruce. Clark was waiting for the man in his study when he caught her entering it via the window in full Ladybug costume. 

“Not only can she bake, but she also knows how to get the boys to listen to her with a single command.” Bruce said with a sigh, regretting letting Amira go ahead without him. Making sure that Dick wouldn’t go off solving cases without backup and for Tim to not wander into the BatCave by himself is what held him back. “So where is Amira?”

“Last I heard, she was busy arguing with Hal-”

“Jordan’s here?” Bruce asked, only then realising that two were heading towards the sparing room, hearing muffled shouts coming from the room.

“Knowing that Amira wanted to meet him, Wally offered to introduce her to him.” 

“And you let them?” Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, fully knowing the headache that was awaiting. “Let’s just hope-”

Bruce wasn’t expecting to see what he saw when he entered the room.

There, in front of them, Ladybug finished slamming a robot against the floor as a timer went off, the crowd cheering for their victor.

“That was amazing!” Bruce heard Wally shout, looking over to Ladybug, a prominent blush on her face as she held her hand in the air. Bruce wanted to throw a glare the boy’s way, but chose not too.

She let her hand drop to her side, feeling as her entire body almost fell down with it. She let herself take in big breaths of air, fully knowing she badly needed it.

“That’s the fifth time in row that I’ve beaten you.” Ladybug said after catching her breath. Sparring with robots was nothing compared to fighting her brothers...brother. She straightened herself up, doing a few bends to the side to calm down her aching body. “If you still want to go another round to try and prove-”

“Ladybug.” Bruce’s voice boomed, making everyone quiet down and causing Ladybug to harshly flinch.

“B-Batman.” She said, slowly turning to face. “I know you said that I should wait for you to arrive so that you can properly introduce me as your ward, but-”

“She’s your ward?” Hal asked, glancing between Batman and Ladybug. “Should’ve known.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Bruce asked, narrowing his eyes. 

“Using underhanded methods to destroy-” 

“I didn’t use any underhanded methods!” Ladybug defended, holding back a blush when she heard ��She fought fair and square!’ from Wally. “Batman taught me how to make the most of my surroundings and of my abilities! He’s the one who taught me to access my situations instead of charging in...unlike you.”

“Excuse me? Are you-”

“Instigating that you solely rely too much on your ring’s power? Yes.” Ladybug said, stepping out of the ring. “Makes you think you’re invincible.”

“Not like you’re any different.” Hal retorted, pointing at Ladybug’s earrings. “Your earrings are also magical. As for how I know, I scanned it earlier. I know what they are.” Hal said with a smirk when he saw Ladybug scowl. 

“My earrings-”

“-are just like my ring.” Hal completed, walking up to Ladybug. “You too rely too much on your magical earrings.”

“No, I don’t.” Ladybug sternly said, straightening up. “And to prove it. Let’s have a simple sparring match. One round, no time limit. And to make things fair, no magical item for me since you believe I rely too much on it.”

Everyone watched as Ladybug went over to Bruce, who simply looked at his ward with pride. 

Everyone watched as Ladybug called off her transformation, watching as she held her earrings in her hand before giving them to Batman.

Wally’s jaw dropped at finding out that it was Amira behind the mask. 

“Dad, hold my earrings.”

“Dad?!” Hal yelled, wondering if this meant death. “Batman is-”

“My father? Yup. Name’s Marinette by the way,” Amira said, bowing her head as she said it. 

Wally looked at her in confusion. Wasn’t that Amira?

Technically, Amira wasn’t lying. “And before I forget, let me just tell you,” Marinette stepped into the ring, stretching her arms for the upcoming fight. “Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean you should underestimate me.”

-

“-and that hold you did at the end! That was...amazing!” Wally blabbered away, causing Amira to turn a shade redder than what she already was.

As soon as the match started, Hal wished he hadn’t challenged the young girl.

No matter how many times he would hold her down or throw her across the ring, she would never. Back. Down. Ever.

She fell on her back? Did a flip to get back up or twist her body to attack him from below, oftentimes kicking him in the jaw.

She rolled towards the edge of the ring? No problem. She simply stopped herself and went back to dodging Hal’s chains and weapons. He hated it when she would grab a chain and use it against him, or even better. She used it as a step stone to land a hit on him.

He hated her axe drops the most. That thing hurt like the devil.

He grabbed her? She would pull him towards her and knee him in the stomach or chest and then punch him square in the face. But wait! When she didn’t feel like doing that, she’d simply throw him towards her side and push him down, letting some distance go between them before she would flip towards him and do a dropkick on him.

Their fight continued until Amira landed the final blow. 

Hal was too late to notice the girl behind him, grinning at him like a madwoman.

Using his projectile as a foothold, Amira launched herself towards him, the heel of her foot connecting with his shoulder, causing him to fall onto the floor, Amira using that opportunity to grab Hal.

But Hal wasn’t going to go down that easily. 

Grabbing her arm, he attempted to tuck it behind her and hold her down, but she proved to be quicker than him.

She pulls him towards herself, placing his arm under his body, wrapping her legs around his body.

Hal felt his arm ache in pain from the unnatural stretching, the pressure on his back not helping his lack of breath. 

It also didn’t help that he also had pressure going against his chest due to Amira’s leg pushing his arm into his chest and her hands pulling his head into his compressed body.

His head was starting to become light, his vision starting to spin.

He wanted to breathe, but he just couldn’t. 

Feeling the last of his energy beginning to leave him, he tapped out, gasping for air when Amira released him.

“It wasn’t anything, really.” Amira finally replied to Wally, internally smiling as she recalled how smoothly her plan went.

With his focus on breathing, Hal’s concentration slipped from his ring, allowing Amira to guarantee her win. She slipped his ring off his finger temporarily, making sure that he wouldn’t attempt to use it as she waited for him to tap out.

When he did, she quickly slipped it back on, grinning as she claimed her victory.

But that was a low move, even for you.

Yes, it was, but something had to be done to knock Hal off his pedestal.

“You think you could teach me how to-” 

“Sure!” Amira chirped, internally screaming at herself for saying that. “I'd be happy to teach-“

“Nightwing could teach you.” Batman cut off, causing Wally to shudder and Amira to giggle.

While her first meeting with Hal didn’t go as planned, she sure hopes they can spar with him again in the near future. It’s not everyday she was able to spar without having to hold out after all!

“Can’t wait until our next visit Father!” Amira said, quickly slipping into her Ladybug costume. “And I can’t wait to see you again.” Amira told Wally, waving to him as she stepped into the Zeta Tube.

While she enjoyed visiting the Tower, she couldn’t help but wonder how Jason would’ve reacted had he had the opportunity to see it himself.

[duhragonball]

Hellsing Liveblog Chapters 25-27

This is the first leg of the “D” arc.   I had originally planned on trying to do the whole thing in one post, but it’s pretty long and meanders in places, so instead I’m going to break it up, starting with the part that wraps up volume 4 of the collected editions.

Much of these first three chapters just showcases Millennium preparing to depart their secret headquarters in Brazil.  They have three blimps, maybe more.   We already saw the Graf Zeppelin III, but there’s also a Graf Zeppelin II and a Hindenberg II.   Also, the Major refers to all of this as “Operation Sea Lion 2″.  The original “Operation Sea Lion” was Nazi Germany’s plan to invade the U.K. during World War II.   It was never enacted, however, because the Germans couldn’t establish air and naval superiority over the British.  Basically, the Major is declaring that he has finally achieved what Hilter could not, thanks to his “Last Battalion” of 1000 vampire soldiers.

The bridge of his flagship (flagblimp) has this big comfy chair on a robot arm, and a panoramic world map.   The arrows on the map point in all sorts of nutty directions, including the United States and other European nations.   I could have sworn I had heard some mention in Hellsing Ultimate of Millennium sending forces to the U.S., but the international angle was never mentioned again, and I assumed that I must have imagined it.  In any event, the Major made it clear that his target is Alucard specifically, so it doesn’t make a lot of sense to invade places where Alucard is not.

The Major prepares to take his seat only to find Warrant Officer Schrödinger sitting in his chair.   Remember, Schrödinger inexplicably teleported himself to London to address Hellsing and Iscariot, and then he got shot and killed for his trouble.   But now he’s back, alive and well.   He mocks the Major for being to slow, and the Doctor scolds him for his insolence, but the Major orders Doc to back off.   This is a running gag throughout the rest of the series.  The Doctor keeps trying to chastise Schrödinger, but the Major lets him do whatever the boy wants, almost like he’s some favorite pet.  

Meanwhile, an unidentified helicopter tries to land on a British carrier, the H.M.S. Eagle.   The Captain orders his crew to open fire, but the first officer suddenly does this:

So yeah, the first officer is a vampire now, and he’s sold out Queen and Country for Millennium.  He and a handful of vampire crewmen kill the rest of the crew and turn them all into ghouls, allowing the helicopter to land, making way for...

This lady, Lieutenant Rip Van Winkle.  I should point out that in the pages leading up to her boarding the Eagle, she was singing Engelandlied, a German war anthem from World War I.   She’s nutty, is the idea.

So, I’m gonna go ahead and put forth my fan theory that all the bad guys we dealt with prior to Rip were just patsies for Millennium, and not actual members in their own right.   This includes Tubalcain “Dandyman” Alahambra, because, for all his powers, no one ever said his rank, leading me to think he didn’t have one.   Same with the Valentine Brothers and any of the vampires Alucard and Seras were sent to fight during the first dozen or so chapters of this manga.   Millennium may have turned them into vampires, and in some cases they even let them in on Millennium’s inner workings, but they were never more than cannon fodder.   Jan seemed to understand this, although Luke and Dandyman seemed to believe they were genuinely created to represent the new pinnacle of vampiric power.   Even the Doctor thought Dandyman had a strong chance of beating Alucard, but in the end they were just experiments meant to test Alucard’s mettle.

And, really, the rest of Millennium is not much different, except Rip and the others actually know why they’re being sacrificed, even if they don’t necessarily understand how or when.

Meanwhile, Seras still won’t drink blood, and she keeps trying to eat regular food instead, even though she struggles to swallow every bite.   I’ve never been very clear on whether vampires in Hellsing can eat non-blood food or not.  Seras is doing it, albeit painfully, but I don’t think she really gains anything from it, except whatever coping mechanism this is supposed to serve.   

So in walks Sir Integra, who dumps a bag of medical blood on her table.  Seras never really answers Integra’s question, but she already told Walter, and it’s not much of an answer.   The heart of the matter is this: Seras really doesn’t want to be a vampire.   Or, maybe, more accurately, she doesn’t want to stop being human.   The trouble is that she already lost that battle way back in Chapter 1. 

In many ways, Seras has accepted her fate.   She works for Hellsing, recognizes Alucard as her vampire master, and so on.  I think she understands that this is the only life she can have now, and her will to live is strong enough that she appreciates what Alucard and Integra have done for her.    At her core, Seras is a public servant, and fighting monsters for Hellsing is not so different from fighting crime as a policewoman.  I think she sees her current condition as a means to that end.   She doesn’t crave power like the evil vampires we’ve seen thus far.    Seras views her abilities as a means to an end.   Alucard biting her gave her a way to stay alive and continue fighting the good fight.

However, she doesn’t want the baggage that goes along with that.   She wants to retain as much of her humanity as she can, and drinking blood is the one thing that she has some control over, or so she believes.

But Integra’s far too practical for that dilemma.   Alucard was willing to respect Seras’ relucatance, but she needs her troops on their toes and ready for action.  So she takes a knife and cuts open her finger, and then orders Seras to lick the blood off.    This is... disturbingly sexual, and one of a number of scenes that reminds me that Hirano Kouta had done a lot of, er, adult comics before Hellsing.   I think he did a lot of uniform fetishy stuff too, which is why Seras and Schrödinger’s uniforms look so similar to each other.   Both are meant to resemble German WWII gear.   I’m willing to grant some leeway here, because there’s probably only so many ways to do a finger-licking scene like this without sexualizing it a little, but the last bit with the saliva trail is just revolting. 

So, what’s bugged me for a long time was that if Seras drank (a little) of Integra’s blood here, why did this subplot not get paid off until much later in the story?  She drank blood, didn’t she?   Well, yeah, but Integra ordered her to do it, so it doesn’t count.   This came up a couple of times earlier in the story, when Walter and Al mentioned that she wouldn’t drink blood willingly.  It’s not just an ethical issue for Seras, or she’d simply chow down on the medical blood.  I guess Integra could force feed her every night, but that wouldn’t solve anything.   This is about Seras accepting her transformation as a fait accompli.   I think this is why she very nearly drank Alucard’s blood back in Northern Ireland, when it sure looked like there was no other way for her to survive.  But if she’s just sitting there with no one making her do it, and no urgent need to do it, she’ll refuse every time.  

I think Hellsing uses the premise that a vampire has to do more than just bite a human to turn them into a vampire.  That is, Alucard had to put his own blood in Seras’ body to complete that transformation.   I think that’s how it worked in the Dracula novel, and Seras herself mentions it in the Gonzoverse anime.   But that wouldn’t count either, because it’s part of the change itself.  The idea is for the new vampire to partake in blood-drinking by choice, and until that happens, they won’t get all the cool powers.   

One other thing, Integra takes this opportunity to mention that she’s a virgin, which is a weird flex for this situation, but okay.  In Hellsing, that means Integra could become a vampire herself, but not if Seras bites her, because it has to be a vampire of the opposite sex.   In any case, Tegs warns Seras not to bite down during this creepy finger-licking KFC-hentai thing.   

Back in the damn ocean, Lt. Rip van Winkle is welcomed aboard by the traitorous crew of the Eagle.   She asks them how it feels to be a vampire, and causally reminds them of their treachery.   Then she gives them new orders, which are to die by her magic gun, which fires a bullet that can turn around in midair.

And so the First Officer and his lackeys learn the same lesson as the Brazillians working for the Dandyman, and the Dandyman himself, and the Valentine Brothers and whoever else.  Millennium might turn you into a vampire, but that hardly means that you’ll live forever.   Millennium always demands treason as payment for their help, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that they might betray you sooner or later.

Besides, Rip doesn’t need the British crew, because she has her own henchman on board her chopper.   While she waits for them to wake up, she paints a swastika on the deck, just to make it clear that they’ve taken control of the Eagle, which she renames the Adler.  That’s German for “Eagle”, you see.

Back on his blimp, the Major cuts this twenty-minute promo which basically amounts to “I love war, we have no particular agenda except to wage endless war for the fun of it.”   Back in England, Alucard is eagerly awaiting their arrival.  

[solalunar-eclipse]

Scars You Can’t See - Chapter 6

Chapter title: Tip of the iceberg

Word count: about 4300 words

WARNING: This chapter contains descriptions of blood and violence.

Author’s Note: I must admit, while I said a couple of chapters ago that this was inspired by Mission:Impossible, that’s by no means the only inspiration for this fic.

First | Previous | Next

...

It was the next day after the heist, and the whole team was exhausted. Still, they had to remain on the run, and they all knew that there was still work left to do.

The three had decided to head into the sprawling city of Westopolis. It was a thriving seaside metropolitan area with a big name for tourism- a good place to hide out among the crowds.

They ended up renting a small, lower-level room in a towering hotel made almost entirely out of glass and steel. The receptionist was very reluctant to hand over the keys, clearly expecting Rouge in particular to trash the room and break all the furniture.

“Miss...Ruby, was it?” he asked, arching an eyebrow condescendingly. “I suppose you may stay here, though you must pay for any...damages incurred.”

“Absolutely.” she replied, without the slightest hesitation. Turning on her heel, she walked off with Shadow and Omega in tow, leaving one immensely surprised employee in her wake.

Their room was decently clean and nicely furnished, albeit a little plain and without the excellent views those on the higher floors would receive. Rouge left shortly afterwards to go find a VHS player, leaving the other two alone in the room. Omega remained standing and attempted to curb his impulse to break something simply to spite the receptionist. They didn’t have an unlimited supply of money, after all.

Meanwhile, Shadow simply slumped onto the bed and glowered at the wall. The E-series robot, after a minute of studying him, decided that he was likely tired from the mission yesterday, as well as highly apprehensive about what he would have to do soon. 

Omega did not normally give a second thought to the emotional state of most organic life-forms. The large majority of people, to him, were mostly irritating but otherwise of little concern or importance. He remained indifferent to- if slightly perplexed by- their hormonal imbalances and the ‘feelings’ that they produced. It was simply foolish to be ruled by something as fickle as your emotions. (He was aware that he had acted in a manner deemed irrational in the past, but this was due to his programmed goals, not a spur-of-the-moment sensation.)

Shadow was an exception to this rule. Omega viewed him as a person who had fought by his side many a time with impressive skill. Now, the awareness that the hybrid was reduced to a weakened mess simply by the constraints of his organic body was...strange. Omega found that he disliked seeing a talented fighter being laid so low by something as fickle as a few chemically induced sensations.

While the robot would never admit it out loud, Rouge and Shadow were people whom he would defend from any danger or displeasure, no matter what. Although most organics could handle the world just fine on their own, he had decided, these two in particular were talented enough (and their company was enjoyable enough) that he would punch anyone and anything who dared to harm them. And then fire a few missiles at the offending thing for good measure.

This thought process, he decided, explained why he sat down on the bed and proceeded to pick up the dejected hedgehog as though he weighed next to nothing.

“Hey- Omega! Put me down!” Shadow shouted, flailing in surprise and embarrassment as he was lifted into the robot’s arms. He made several grumbling noises upon realizing he was trapped, but ceased the majority of his movements.

“You are still not acting like...you.” Omega said, looking at Shadow thoughtfully. “We are currently attempting to remedy the issue, but it appears that this is more of a long-term solution. What would be an acceptable short-term solution?”

The hybrid rolled his eyes. “There is no ‘short term solution’, Omega. Running from the most dangerous law enforcement in the country tends to make people a little tired. There’s no need to search for a solution, anyway. I am perfectly capable of dealing with this on my own.”

Omega considered how best to proceed. Despite Shadow’s protests, he clearly required aid. And he hadn’t missed the hybrid’s refusal to admit to the effects of his past on his current state. He was never very good at dealing with emotions or stubbornness- that was more Rouge’s strong suit- but Rouge wasn’t here. And he was.

He had been told before that physical contact was often pleasant for organics, when initiated with people that they trusted. And Shadow trusted him, correct?

Thinking for a moment longer, Omega chose to touch the hybrid’s quills in a calming manner. He did so cautiously, ensuring that his sharp fingers would not cause any unwanted harm. Shadow was too caught off guard to protest, his eyes closing within moments as he resigned himself to being pet. As the mechanical creation continued in his repetitive motions, he noticed a quiet noise emanating from somewhere in the room.

Further examination revealed that Shadow was the source of the noise, and that he was purring.

It wasn’t much, just a little rumble in his chest, but something about the indescribable noise made Omega tighten his grip slightly on the small (oh so very small) hedgehog. Despite Shadow’s incredible prowess in battle, he was still reminded in this moment of just how fragile and vulnerable even the most powerful organics were.

Embarrassingly enough, this was when Rouge decided to fling open the door. Shadow snapped out of the daze Omega’s attention had put him in and squirmed as he tried to escape the steel trap that the robot’s arms had created. His effort was too little, too late, however, as Rouge squealed upon seeing the two ‘bonding’. “Awww! You guys! This is so sweet! I swear, I’m getting cavities just by being in the same room as you two.”

Omega glowered at her. “This is not ‘sweet’. I am attempting to…” He trailed off as he realized that what he had been doing did, unfortunately, fall into the category of cute things. “...fine. I was merely aiding Shadow in his moment of emotional distress. There is no need to make such loud shrieking sounds.”

“I’m fine.” the hybrid grumbled sulkily. “Stop worrying about me.”

Rouge shook her head. “Hon, we’re never going to stop worrying about you. That’s pretty much what being friends is about. We care about how you’re feeling.” She tried to wrap her arms around both Shadow and Omega, but resigned herself to the fact that she didn’t by any means have long enough arms for that. Instead, she worked her way into Omega’s hold, smiling warmly at the two of them. “Hugs are good for everyone.” she declared. “That’s just a fact.”

Shadow allowed himself to smile, just a little. “I...appreciate you both doing this for me.” he said quietly.

The E-series robot watched this interaction with a certain amount of...he wasn’t sure what this was called, actually. He was...pleased? Yes, he was pleased to see his two favorite people getting along.

He decided to hold them a little longer as a result.

Rouge sighed after a minute, though, resigned to what came next. “I guess we’ll have to get to the difficult part eventually.” She looked over at the VHS player, before pulling the box of tapes out. “Which day was it again?”

Shadow pointed at a cassette. “That one.” he muttered, staring down at the bedspread.

“Can you not remain in an adjacent room or go somewhere else for the duration of this video?” Omega asked him.

The hedgehog shook his head. “No. No, if we’re putting this out there, I want to know what it looks like.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to us, hon…” Rouge reminded him.

“I need to prove it to myself.” he declared, an air of finality to his words.

Omega stood and plugged the player into the TV set, before putting the tape in. He began to set up the screen, and it seemed to take an eternity before everything was ready to go. Rouge grabbed Shadow’s hand and squeezed it tightly. The robot, on returning to the bed, took his other hand. He took a deep breath. 

“Do it.”

Omega pressed play.

...

The tape shows a grid of all the security cameras throughout Space Colony ARK. The footage is slightly grainy, but the three can make out vaguely distinguishing features on all of the people. 

Omega fast-forwards the video until the moment that the first G.U.N. soldier appears. Shadow holds both their hands tighter.

They watch as the soldiers begin to move through the space station. At first, they don’t cause much alarm- the space colony was funded by G.U.N., after all. Their leader and a couple of others enter the main laboratory and speak to the scientists. After a minute, an alarm goes off.

One of the soldiers fires on the scientist who triggered it, and he sinks to the floor, red pooling around him. All of the other researchers freeze.

Several screens away, a small hedgehog and his sister begin to run.

The space station itself is against them. They were sitting and stargazing on the exact opposite side of the structure from the escape pods. The two have to rush through an endless maze of corridors, avoiding the soldiers throughout it all.

The soldiers are now firing indiscriminately on civilians and government scientists alike, as they are blocking the halls and the soldiers are desperate and violent. The people are only unintentionally in the way, of course- they’re simply fleeing the destruction. None of the researchers knows where Project:Shadow is right now, and the soldiers are frustrated. Every second that slips by is one where they don’t have what they came for.

Clearly, they didn’t come into this situation looking for a peaceful outcome.

Meanwhile, the blond-haired human pauses to catch her breath. She is very sick, after all, and has not run much in her lifetime. The hedgehog looks worried, but remains by her side. He is partly fearful due to her health, after all- and he would never leave her side in such a dangerous situation.

He startles at the first sound of gunshots and begs her to keep moving.Thankfully, she gains a second wind from the adrenaline and they continue to run. Despite the fact that the hedgehog is skating, pulling her along, they are not moving very fast. Not fast enough.

Behind them, the carnage continues.

On the bed, Shadow is crying silently. Rewatching the destruction of his childhood home breaks his heart, and both of his friends can see it. He looks at the desperate hope in the eyes of the hedgehog on the screen (who isn’t that much younger but at the same time so different) and knows what comes next. 

He spots an elderly scientist with an instantly recognizable moustache, handcuffed to a railing. The man is one of the few survivors of the massacre. He begs the soldiers to spare his daughter’s life, to bring her back safely. Shadow is startled to hear, among the words, a plea to please remove Project:Shadow alive. To not kill him.

The scientist looks desperate and tells the soldiers that he loves his children. He tells them that he needs to see them again.

His children. Plural.

The sound of crying rings out across the hotel room.

The human girl convinces the hedgehog to get in the escape pod first. He can’t work the controls because he’s a little too short- ‘fun-sized’, she calls it. Besides, it’ll make her feel better. He could never argue with that.

The soldiers arrive. The girl looks back and forth between the pod and the controls. Shadow pinpoints the exact moment, this time, when her expression changes from fearful to resigned. He wishes he hadn’t eaten this morning- his breakfast won’t sit still.

Shadow screams “No!!” as she lunges for the control panel, the word ripping raw from his throat as though he can somehow save her if he just shouts loud enough. He chokes as he hears the gunshots, as he sees her fall. He sees himself clawing at the glass, screaming and crying unintelligible words as Maria speaks her dying wish.

He barely even sees the pod eject, his eyes blurred with tears. Omega pauses the video.

...

Rouge pulls Shadow into her arms. He’s shaking and barely seems to be aware of what’s going on, silent tears trickling down his face as he sits limply in her embrace. She feels him gasping for breath- he can’t quite seem to get the air he needs.

“Breathe, Shadow.” she murmured. “I’m here, I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay, I promise, but all you have to do is breathe.”

He reached out and held her back tightly, clinging to her with enough force to drive some of the air out of her own lungs.

“I’m here for you, Shadow.” Rouge whispered. “Just let me know what you need when you can.”

“I will not go anywhere either.” Omega said, turning his volume down. “You will be safe here with us.”

Shadow gasped for breath one last time before whispering quietly, “You promise?”

“Of course you are.” Rouge rubbed circles on his back comfortingly. “We’ll always watch out for you.”

“Absolutely.” Omega added.

After another few minutes, Shadow began to relax a little, but he made no move to pull back from the bat. “Sorry…” he muttered.

“No, don’t apologize.” Rouge said, her voice strong and warm. “None of this is your fault. None of it. I promise.”

“I shouldn’t be reacting like this.” he growled.

Omega placed a hand on his back. “It is completely normal to react in such a way to traumatic experiences, as a matter of fact- and that is the truth.”

“You’ve seen it now, hon. We’re going to watch the rest of the video, but you just turn your back and lie down, okay?” Rouge offered.

“Okay…” Shadow sighed, too exhausted to fight- and he didn’t really want to, anyway. Both of his friends kept their hands on him as he turned around, and his face relaxed more as he closed his eyes, exhausted from his panic.

“I will mute the sound.” Omega informed him.

…

Mostly, the rest of the video was just filming the cleanup and shutdown of Space Colony ARK. Eventually, once the crews started getting to the lower levels, the cameras were shut down. It seemed that G.U.N. didn’t want anybody to know what happened next.

But there were still five full minutes left of film…

Omega and Rouge shared a look. The bat turned to Shadow and told him that the tape was going to run longer than expected. They’d watch it all the way to the end, even if it was just a black screen.

It turned out that it wasn’t blank at all.

When the camera opened with a new security camera view, Rouge grew tense. 

The date says it’s about ten years ago. It’s dark out. The footage shows G.U.N. soldiers standing in the shadows, watching a gathering of people. It looks like someone’s speaking to them from a stage. One of the soldiers gives a signal to the others.

They charge into the crowd without warning. People begin to shout and run as the soldiers move through the crowd, stunning people with batons and taking prisoners left and right.

Amidst the chaos, the speaker begins to film the event. She is grabbed from behind by two soldiers while a third points a gun at her. She appears to talk to them, panic evident in her eyes. The third soldier snatches her phone with one hand and steps on it before shooting it twice. The speaker doesn’t look to be above twenty.

She looks scared. She doesn’t look like a criminal. She looks like an ordinary person.

The tape ends there.

Nobody speaks.

…

“What happened?” Shadow asks, turning over just as Omega switches off the TV. “What is it?”

“I’d have to watch it with the sound on to be sure-” Rouge swallows thickly at the idea- “but it looks like G.U.N. attacked a bunch of innocent citizens.”

Shadow looks shocked. “I thought that was-!”

“Illegal.” Omega says flatly. “That is illegal...and it goes against everything G.U.N. is supposed to stand for.”

“I...I’m going to watch it again.” Rouge said. “I have to know. Shadow, go for a walk, okay?”

He leaves without question.

They watch it again.

Once they’re done, Omega watches as Rouge sits for a minute to process the film, before she rewinds the tape. Squinting at the screen for a moment, she sags slightly when she finds what she was looking for. 

The bat walks into the hallway and sees Shadow standing at the end of it, looking out the window. The sunlight frames his strong stance and alert ears. Anyone else would say he looks powerful. 

Rouge thinks he looks apprehensive.

“Shadow?” she calls, walking over to him. A twitch of his ear signals his acknowledgement. “There’s more.”

“What is it.” he responds, his voice monotone.

“This took place in Empire City. On United Federation soil. With ordinary people talking about nothing but their ideals. I suspected it the last time, but I had to rewatch it- there’s a couple of background clues in there.” Rouge’s voice shakes.

Shadow shakes his head. 

“She was just a girl, Shadow.”

Suddenly, his back straightens. “She?”

Rouge realizes she hadn’t told him this before. “There was a girl, speaking to the crowd. She was a teenager, it looks like.”

Shadow drags her back into the room. He stands there for a solid minute, trying to control his breathing, but has to give up and grabs a pillow, digging his gloved hands into it. He looks like he’s on the verge of tears again. “Is she alive? Did they kill another granddaughter? Another sister, did they-”

“I don’t think she’s dead. There would’ve been a lot of protest if that happened, and the film’s recent enough for me to have heard of it.” the bat said.

“We don’t know that for sure. Rouge, we can’t stop here. Not now. Not when there’s more.”

She exhaled heavily. “I agree. Completely.”

“As do I.” Omega said. 

Rouge groaned. “People get away with something awful once and they think they’re invincible. Ugh.”

“Not anymore.” Shadow hissed. 

The hybrid realized something, his eyes widening slightly. “Omega. Go call Sonic or Tails. Now.”

Omega came to the same conclusion as him immediately. Without comment, he left the room and descended the stairs to the ground floor. If G.U.N. had visited the two...with that kind of reputation…

He managed to find a public phone in a store a couple of blocks away and dialed Tails’s number.

“Hi! This is Tails speaking!” 

“This is E-123 Omega.”

“Omega!?” Tails gasped. The next sentence sounded muffled, as though the microphone was being covered. “Sonic! Omega’s on the phone!”

The robot heard a faint shriek of “What?!” before Tails came back on the line.

“Has G.U.N. visited you at all?” Omega asked, keeping his voice absolutely level. No need to frighten the fox if nothing had happened.

“Actually...yeah.” Tails said, sounding a little tentative. “They didn’t hurt us, but I did have to rescue Sonic.” He proceeded to recount the entire event, from the agents’ arrival to their (reluctant) departure. He also updated Omega on the latest news stories, which were predictable, but still irritating.

The robot did not like Tails’s story though. Not the news, not the agents, and especially not the part with the Taser. However, as much as he would like to fire lots of explosives at all of G.U.N., he decided that it would be best to update the two on his news. “We have found the security files from Space Colony ARK. They prove beyond all doubt that G.U.N. killed many of the inhabitants of said space colony in cold blood, including one Maria Robotnik.”

“That’s great!” Tails exclaimed, before realizing what he’d said. “Uh...relatively speaking.”

“However, one of these files contained excess information. We do not know whether this was on purpose or by accident, but either way, they show soldiers of G.U.N. taking multiple people into custody without giving any reason for their actions. When asked why they were doing this, they gave no reply. Further investigation is necessary, but it seems that they treated ordinary people like enemies of the state. And this was done while the current commander was in charge, according to the date on the security camera files.”

Omega heard Sonic start shouting unintelligibly in the background. Tails responded to him once or twice with a “Yeah” or “Mm-hm”, but suddenly called, “Sonic! Be careful, you’ll break something if you keep up like that!”

The fox turned his attention back to his slightly confused audience. “Sorry, he’s angry and just like roundhouse kicking the air and stuff. Though I think he’d rather be smacking around G.U.N. robots- no offense, by the way.”

“None taken. I am fully aware of my superior status regarding those mindless drones.” Omega scoffed.

“Yo Omega!” he heard Sonic shout from the background. “How’s Shadow doing? Is he there?”

Tails sighed in a rush of static. “Sorry, he’s...kind of rushing around right now so he’s forgetting his manners and isn’t coming to the phone himself, but that’s okay, I guess.”

Omega would have smirked, had he been built with the necessary components to do so. As it was, he simply answered, “Shadow is not here. He has been...struggling with the combined knowledge that G.U.N. is even worse than we realized and rewatching his sister’s death. In respect to his privacy, I will not say more.”

Tails relayed this information over to Sonic, who sounded sad. “Oh...aw, man. Hey, can you tell Omega to let him know I miss him?”

The fox seemed upset by this news at first, but then he giggled. “Did you hear that, Omega? Sonic really misses Shadow and he wants him to know, isn’t that cute?”

“Absolutely.” the robot agreed, fully aware of what Tails was trying to do. 

About two milliseconds later, Sonic roared, “I meant RACING him, Tails! Stop ASSUMING THINGS!!”

Tails laughed again, the wickedness of it obvious this time. Suddenly, Omega heard a loud clatter, and then the crackle of someone picking up the phone. “Sorry, Omega,” Sonic hissed into the speaker, “It’s been nice talking but I have a fox to launch into the sun. Gottagobye!”

Omega walked back to the hotel, pleased that Tails and Sonic seemed to be doing alright. (He wasn’t as worried about Knuckles, he was basically unreachable by anyone. The echidna would be fine.)

When the robot neared his hotel room, he heard loud voices. It seemed that Rouge and Shadow were participating in something he remembered was called ‘venting’, in which they were able to express their feelings without producing any significant action plans. He believed that its purpose was to release emotional tension, and it was sometimes good for them. It was also a very fun activity when he was the one allowed to rant.

“I know, right?! I mean- who do they even- oh, hi Omega!” Rouge exclaimed when he returned, smoothing down her hair from its slightly messy state.

“Greetings. I have learned Tails and Sonic are both alive, healthy, and generally safe. Shadow, Sonic wished for me to inform you that he misses you and would like to race you again at some point in the future.”

Shadow smiled faintly. “That’s nice to hear.”

“I know, right?” Rouge sighed. “Finally, some good news.”

“Although.” Omega added.

Rouge covered Shadow’s ears and then proceeded to say a series of very rude words that Omega could never repeat around Tails. The hybrid waved his hand at her once she was done, muttering something unhappily about not being a little kid.

“G.U.N. did visit them.” the robot said.

“And?” Rouge asked.

“And Sonic was very close to being on the wrong end of a Taser.”

A hint of gold flickered behind Shadow’s brown contacts. “They. Did. Not.”

“They did. But Tails rescued him, so do not destroy the room.” Omega informed him.

Chaos energy still sparked slightly between the hybrid’s fingers. “Who did it.”

Omega decided after a moment of thought that Shadow was unlikely to blow up the room or cause other serious damage and spoke. “A barn owl by the name of Agent Toya.”

“I knew her...she was always pretty quiet. And intense.” Rouge said. “I’d like to get you a meeting with her sometime.”

Shadow smirked darkly, before sighing and falling back onto the bed. “Ugh. I’m too tired to spear her right now.”

Rouge walked over to the window for a minute and looked out, before spinning back around, her eyes bright. “What we need-” she declared, pulling Shadow off the bed and grabbing Omega’s arm with her other hand- “is to go out to a park or something, grab some food, and make fun of all the rich people with their expensive condos and million-dollar handbags. We can listen in on all the hot gossip too. How’s that for an idea?”

Omega was pleased with this idea. “I will taunt all of the people who think they have nice cars. Ours are far superior to their puny vehicles.”

Shadow smirked. “Only if I get to have a lemon iced tea.”

“You could get literally anything and you choose lemon iced tea, but fine. I’ll grab lunch and get you your ye olde drinke while I’m at it, mister 50s.” Rouge rolled her eyes, but she was only joking and he knew it.

“Shut up.” he huffed, swatting at her as they walked out of the hotel.

Rouge cackled so hard she had to sit on Omega’s shoulder for a while to catch her breath. Once she was finished, she grinned down at him. “Feeling better?”

Shadow’s expression briefly darkened, and Rouge regretted saying anything. But then, he seemed to seriously consider her question. “Yeah.” he said quietly, allowing his mouth to twitch up into the faintest hint of a real smile. “Yeah, I am.”

[purplecatghostposts]

Jumbled AU Character Information Time!

What’s the Jumbled AU? Another Roleswap except it’s less swap between two characters and more... Jumbled! Created for fun of course!

I ended up tweaking it all up a bit and I’m pretty happy with it now!

Meet The Crew:

FORZEN-

“No, I’m right there with you. Black Mesa is the worst.”

- Takes Gordon’s role as Team Leader

- Graduated from MIT and was recently hired by Black Mesa. He’s been there less than a year and he’s already regretting it.

- Gets stuck in a HEV Suit and would very much like out of it, thank you very much.

- Originally wanted time be a streamer but his mother talked him into going into Science like everyone else in the family did. Forzen and his family have a rocky relationship and this is one of the reasons why.

- Hates his job and is miserable but he does it anyways because he’s good at it and it makes him money.

- A lot smarter than he looks or acts.

- Very protective over his team and is quite the shot. Prides himself a little on his good aim.

- Carries around a ‘Lucky Bayblade’ wherever he goes. Insists it’s kept him safe as a kid and as long as he has it, he will make it through alright.

- Is a single father as his partner left as soon as the kid was born. Forzen is determined to be a good father because of this. His kid’s full name is Scythe Kronos (Yes, that’s all their first name) but Forzen also calls them Scye for short. Forzen will do anything to make it back to his kid. He doesn’t want them to end up orphaned.

- Loses his right eye in the betrayal. Without his depth perception, his aim is worse than ever and he struggles to protect his team.

- Gets a robotic eye from the Cybernetics Department later that gives him better aim than before.

TOMMY-

“Get- get out of my way or I’ll make you.”

- Takes the place of Benrey as inhuman antagonist.

- Is a Shapeshifting alien who takes the shape of a human to blend in for his mission. Has a lot of power but never got to properly learn how to use it as he was separated from his father when he was young.

- Sunkist is his alien pet who takes the shape of a golden retriever to do the same. She fights alongside him.

- Initially takes on Earthly Interests such as Beyblades, soda, and certain TV shows as a way to blend in but actually starts to like them.

- Takes on a job at Black Mesa as a security guard so that he can search for his dad. Doesn’t actually find him until the Resonance Cascade.

- Tampers with the experiment and causes the Resonance Cascade in order to lower Black Mesa’s defenses so he and his dad can make their escape.

- Makes a deal with the military that if he sells Forzen out, they’ll leave everyone else alone. However, the military double crosses Tommy once they realize that his dad is a valuable experiment to Black Mesa. Tommy is not happy about this.

- Eventually comes to the conclusion that his dad will never be safe as long as Black Mesa is around. Goes to Xen with the others, keeps his cover the entire time, and once they reach Xen’s power source, Tommy takes it for himself and tries to destroy Black Mesa and everyone in it.

- It’s all for family. Step aside or you’ll just get hurt.

GORDON-

“There’s absolutely no way that’s up to code... You guys seeing this?”

- Takes the place of Tommy as Main Support.

- Has worked for Black Mesa for a while now but isn’t entirely fond of it. He’s aware it’s morally gray at best (And that’s sugar coating it) but he can’t quit because he’s bound by contract to stay there for a certain amount of years. At least it pays well, right?

- Lost his arm in a lab accident a few years ago. Luckily, cybernetics fitted him with a robotic prosthetic. The one who made him the arm also outfitted him with a gun-arm he can put on. Gordon didn’t understand why he would need it but after the Resonance Cascade happened, he’s glad he has it.

- One hell of a shot, especially when he’s freaking out a bit (“Gordon going ham!” @ himself).

- Has been a bit obsessed with safety regulations since he lost his arm (But honestly who wouldn’t be?) and is constantly baffled by Black Mesa’s OSHA Violations.

- Has a son back home, Joshua, who he would very much like to make it back to. Forzen and Gordon swap telling stories about their kids sometimes.

- Helps Forzen out after he’s lost his eye and tells him that he can get help from Cybernetics given Gordon knows a guy from the department.

- Is pretty good friends with Tommy and while he does try to stop him from destroying Black Mesa- he hates the place too but there’s a lot of scientists there who are bound by contract just like he is- Tommy spares him from his attacks.

- Seems to be fairly good friends with the mysterious being who keeps popping up, Bubby. Apparently Gordon has helped hide him away more than a few times when he gets stuck so he owes him.

DARNOLD-

“Uh oh... That might be one of my evil clones...”

- Takes the role of Dr. Coomer as the enhanced scientist with clones.

- Has biological enhancements such as built in rocket boots and extendo arms but they were all given to him when Darnold tested his own potions. He mostly uses these to get the group out of trouble.

- In the same situation as Gordon when it comes to being bound by contract. Neither are very thrilled about it but at least Darnold has been in Black Mesa long enough that he can influence change.

- Head of the Mixology Department but took interest in Xen for a while and oversaw the experiment that caused the Resonance Cascade.

- Signed onto the cloning experiment and now has a lot of clones that help around Black Mesa. Darnold is pretty friendly with them and tries to help some escape when the Resonance Cascade. Unfortunately a lot of them die, which gets to Darnold.

- A few clones drank his Evil Powerade and went rogue a while ago. Fortunately, they’re version of ‘Evil’ is essentially a cartoon mad scientist/supervillain. Unfortunately, they’re still a bit of a nuisance and the gang has to look out for tripwire traps and a few of their minions.

- Carries around a lot of potions to help. Has a strength potion that is particularly helpful in a pinch. Also has a special Forbidden Potion that he uses in the final battle.

- One of the few people that treated G-Man like a person rather than an experiment and thus, has his favor.

- Introduces Tommy to Earthly things and customs. Doesn’t piece it together that he’s an alien until later.

- Tried to help in the betrayal but Tommy held him back, saying it was for the best. Runs as soon as he realizes he’s in danger and hides away from the rest of the team. Actively avoids Forzen and Gordon for a while out of stress but eventually has to step in when one of his Evil Clones captures them.

G-MAN-

“Oh believe me, I am just as... Eager to get out of Black Mesa as the rest of you.”

- Takes the role of Bubby as Black Mesa’s favorite experiment

- If Bubby is like Shadow the Hedgehog, then G-Man is like Mewtwo.

- Is an alien that has been alive much longer than Black Mesa itself. A powerful one at that.

- Black Mesa started hunting him down as soon as they learned of his existence. G-Man had just created Tommy not too long ago and was weak when they came. Managed to protect Tommy but was captured as a result and imprisioned in Black Mesa.

- Nicknamed Project Goodman as Black Mesa wished to one day use his powers for their own benefit. The nickname ‘G-Man’ came later and stuck.

- Has a lot of powers relating to the mind (I.E. Levitation, telekinesis, telepathy, etc.) but Black Mesa keeps power dampeners on him so he can’t escape, no matter how much he may try. G-Man and Tommy search for a way to get these off of him, but little do they know that Black Mesa has other ways of ensuring he can’t go rogue...

- Started acting polite and professional a while back and keeps up the facade as it keeps him out of trouble and gets him more freedom. He now works as a scientist to ‘Help’ Black Mesa but is just biding his time until he can make his escape.

- Absolutely despises being in his tube and tends to get aggressive when in small spaces because of this.

- Has very few scientists he actually likes. Darnold is on this short list as he is kind to him.

- Finally reunited with his son after so long and wants nothing more than to escape together.

- They were so close...

BENREY-

“Oh yo, what happened to your eye, dude? Psh, no worries, I got a cybernetic eye for ya that’s gonna look sick as fuck!”

- Takes the role of Darnold as the guy who has a solution to a certain missing body part.

- Is one of the best in the Cybernetics Department and was the one who made Gordon his arm and gun-arm when he lost it in the accident.

- Became weird friends with Gordon after he helped him out. Benrey may or may not send cryptic messages and cat photos at 4AM to Gordon, who is very concerned for his health.

- The Cybernetics Department was originally supposed to be laid off due to budget cuts and the Mixology Department was going to expand and take over the lab but Benrey refused to leave his lab like everyone else and hacked the doors so nobody could get in. They would’ve dealt with it but soon after, the Resonance Cascade happened and Black Mesa has bigger worries than a rogue cybernetics scientist so Benrey just kinda. Stayed. He’s the only remaining member of the Cybernetics Team.

- A good mechanic and a master hacker. He ends up hacking into the security cameras and the VOX to watch the team as they go. He speaks via the VOX- and never tells them who he is- but as soon as they reach his lab, Benrey greets them like old friends.

- While he does like to mess with the team a little, he’s pretty helpful for the most part. He opens up a few locked doors and gives a few heads up every once in a while.

- “ROCKET. LAUNCH. GOOD.” Yeah that was Benrey. Gordon actually hits himself once he realizes it’s Benrey because everything suddenly makes sense.

- Gives Forzen a cybernetic eye that actually gives him better aim than before. Said eye also “May or may not have other sick features.”

- Benrey refuses to elaborate on this.

COOMER-

“OH HO HO HO, BAD MOVE! TIME FOR ME TO GO IN FOR THE KILL!”

- Takes the role of Forzen as minor antagonist.

- Joined the military because of his Ex-Wife’s pressuring to do so. They’re both still in the military but they don’t talk anymore.

- Volunteered to test out a new serum that would genetically enhance him to be an one man army due to his love for Science. He didn’t expect for it to work like it did.

- The serum gave him superhuman abilities such as strength, high leaping power, endurance, regeneration, and other such. However, there was a side effect to the serum as it also gave him a bit of a bloodlust. “I crave violence” is very literal now.

- Very powerful but unfortunately a bit of a loose cannon. They only send him in if they’re getting desperate since he causes a lot of collateral damage.

- Can calm down and have regular conversations but it takes a lot of effort. The serum screwed with his head a lot.

- Is sent to take down the Science Team. 90% of the time, they have to run from him and shake him off their trail other than fight him as he’s a lot stronger than the rest of them.

- Kidnaps Gordon rather than Sunkist at one point and holds him hostage. The Science Team has to work together to take him back.

- Saved Bubby’s life once and now whenever Coomer gets into real danger, Bubby teleports him away. Bubby is one of the few people who can calm Coomer down for long periods of time and Coomer is very fond of Bubby.

BUBBY-

“Who I am is none of your goddamn business.”

- Takes the role of G-Man as a powerful being who keeps showing up.

- Originally was created by Black Mesa and worked for them but in an experiment gone horribly wrong, Bubby abruptly disappeared with no trace.

- The accident gave Bubby dimensional powers over Time and Space but unfortunately, Bubby struggles to figure them out and they’re rather unstable at first.

- Because of their instability, Bubby sometimes randomly will teleport and get stuck in places he doesn’t want to be in. This happens far too frequently in Black Mesa but luckily, Gordon knows him and starts hiding him from Black Mesa whenever he gets stuck.

- This also happened once when Bubby ended up in the middle of an active battlefield and nearly got killed had Coomer not saw him get teleported in and rescued him.

- Bubby has taken a certain fondness for both of them and watches over them from the shadows as his own way of saying ‘Thank You’.

- Black Mesa is vaguely aware that Bubby is still out there but he’s become a bit of a cryptid to them. There’s some security footage of him teleporting in but all security footage gets really staticy and stops working after he appears in it.

- Bubby absolutely despises Black Mesa.

- If he wants something changed, he will change it, by force if necessary.

- Starts watching the team closely after the Resonance Cascade. At first thinks that some of them are aligned with Black Mesa and actively tries to stop them until he figures out that they’ve all fallen victim to it as well and becomes somewhat of an ally.

Anddd that’s the team!

That took a LONG time to type out but hopefully it’s interesting! I’m having a lot of thoughts about this AU currently so if you’re curious at all, send me an ask and I can talk about it more!

[egg-emperor]

∇ -. old age/aging headcanon

I've been writing quite a bit about this as I'm considering writing a full fic at some point. But I've really been wanting to talk about it for a while, so I'll take this as an opportunity to share a bunch of the ideas for now!

Eggman will never retire from his goal of taking over the world, that's why he's only ever joked about it before. Despite the rough patches and rare moments of lost hope, his dreams will never truly die unless he does too. He'll never give up, he'll keep going until he gets what he wants or dies trying. He'll only become even more determined than ever in case his time is running out.

He'll become fixated on the idea of prolonging his lifespan/immortalizing himself so he can be certain that he gets to accomplish his lifelong goals. But as he works on that, he won't be able to stop himself from aging for quite some time. So he'll have to go through the process and accept any changes he goes through all the same, even though he doesn't really want to accept it at first.

He's not too far off from his stache going gray, or it's already started to show a bit and he's hiding it to keep the beautiful mahogany color for as long as possible. It takes time for him to accept the changes and having people draw attention to it certainly won’t help him feel any better about it. He eventually allows his stache to be gray and thinks it still looks just as great. But then he has to prepare himself to face the teasing that he’ll likely get for it.

The power of his mind will last longer than his physical but his strength will always be impressively above average. He'll insist on working as much as he can and will still operate mechs and machinery, despite the energy and strength it takes. But he'll acknowledge his limit and will rely on robots depending on the objective. He’ll need more help with other tasks and activities in general that he still won’t want to admit, though.

But he'll stop denying the need for support and will receive it more often from assistant robots. The robots have to learn to behave by not complaining about the increase. And they must avoid mentioning touchy subjects at all costs, as he'll lose his temper and patience even faster with age as he gets more grumpy. One example being how worn out he can get after chasing Sonic in his Egg Mobile, or after battles with him in mechs. 

He needs breaks as even watching Sonic zoom around will make him feel tired. Sonic discovers this and uses it to his advantage. It’s also difficult for Eggman to keep track as his eyesight further worsens and so does his hearing after years of loud construction and machinery. He hates when Orbot and Cubot point all of this out, so they have to let him sleep whenever he needs without disturbances and avoid mentioning it when he wakes up.

In the present, he tends to stay up far too late and also pushes through sleepless nights to get work done, such as scheming/creating or carrying out plans. There are many times he's left feeling totally overworked. It already takes quite a toll on him now but he can hide it well. In the future it will be too much for him though and anyone will be able to see that it's not so easy anymore.

Fortunately, he doesn't deny it forever and will eventually accept it and start to let himself get more comfortable. He embraces his age and accepts his needs as time goes on. It kind of starts with him dropping his exercise routine altogether, but that isn’t a conscious consideration of his age at the time. He just sees it as losing interest and it's too draining for him to bother.

But he’ll become more aware and considerate of his health and need for rest when he realizes it’s difficult to stay awake for as long as he used to and that overworking his body and mind isn't good for him. His sleep schedule will start to actually exist to an extent and nap times will be planned more often than just happening at random times like they usually do in the present.

There are some things about his aging process that he’ll keep trying to keep a secret from others for a while. It starts with his stache but he learns to embrace the gray and lets everyone see. But even after accepting and revealing that, he still tries to hide other things like his slightly lower energy, trouble his osteoarthritis continues to bring him and his problems with incontinence.

Also working hard, controlling his mechs, and rough defeats will leave him feeling more soreness than before. Certain everyday activities end up having the same effect, including walking, so he'll use a walking stick. And when indoors, he has his floating chairs ready to help him get around easier. But all of that is part of why he won't decide to get back to his exercise routine.

He can't hide the weight gained from ditching it and the way he still likes more than three meals a day, though he tries to make it less common. He’ll still be egg shaped but noticeably larger. It offends him when he’s teased for it but learns to expect it to be mentioned. When seeing people for the first time in a while, he’ll say “I know what you’re thinking” so they don’t state the obvious of how he’s changed since they last saw him.

Unfortunately, there are other secrets that aren't very well kept as more of them will be discovered as he slips up or Orbot and Cubot start telling them. People will poke fun at him for those too, which he's also rather sensitive about at first. But like all the other ways he's been mocked in the past, he gets used to it and even embraces a lot of things to take away the power of insults. That’s always something he's been very good at.

My favorite thing about these headcanons is that there were lines in the Sonic Tokyo 2020 app that can contribute. It was cool to see it in any official media, even something as small as an app!