#but oh man if y'all like dad!joey this fic has some MOMENTS FOR YOU

[ask-joeydrewstudios]

Henry's Unfortunate Ink-antation [Part One]

[submitted by: @the-elusive-blue-skittle]

Sigh… The animation is WELL overdue AGAIN. Henry sits at his desk, with a chewed-up pencil resting between his teeth like a cigar- not that he’d know how to smoke one. That’s Sammy’s thing.

“Ugh, this is all wrong… How did the pose get so stiff,” the man asks himself, slumping over in his chair. “It’s been a hard week, and it’s only Tuesday…”

He tugs at the tie tucked beneath his sweater. Why can’t he seem to get his hands to work today? Perhaps he just hasn’t had enough coffee…

Meanwhile, the toons are chasing each other around the studio. Bendy, who’s filled a plastic bucket with ink from the Machine, is running as fast as his little inky legs can take him.

“Bendy! You put that bucket down right this instant,” Alice yells, holding her halo over her head with one arm, the other desperately grasping for Bendy’s tail.

“Fat chance, sweetcheeks! I never get ta pull pranks ‘round here,” the demon replies, kicking up his speed as ink sloshes in every which direction. The bucket doesn’t seem to get any emptier.

A wide grin creeps its way onto Bendy’s face as he spots a certain someone’s wide-open office door.

Henry’s office.

The man rakes his fingers through his soft brown hair, smiling as he finally gets the details right on his drawing. He’s getting somewhere at last.

“There we go… Much better.”

…

“SURPRISE, HENRY!”

“BENDY, NO-”

S P L A S H.

… Ink is EVERYWHERE. Henry blinks a couple times as the liquid dribbles down his entire body. He grimaces and tries to wipe the ink away from his eyes and mouth, but to no avail. It’s as if the ink replaces his entire form en masse. Henry coughs a wet cough and stands up, leaning against his desk.

’… Huh. Well, that’s a little funny. The desk looks a little higher up than it was when I sat down. Maybe it’s just the fumes getting to my head…’

At least, that’s what Henry THINKS before his body seems to hiccup, sending him another inch closer to the ground. That CAN’T be right. The shrinking seems to speed up as the man’s sight seems to get blurrier and blurrier, though quickly fixing itself as his field of vision converts to full color-blindness. The poor sap, now lacking nine inches in height, unwittingly gets simpler under all that ink. His hands shift and shape into chubbier, more exaggerated versions of themselves, with four fingers on each now-gloved hand. The changes travel up his arms, which get thinner and more versatile as they lose definition, becoming simple curved lines, free to wiggle, contort, and stretch as needed. Henry’s inky frame gets chubbier as the ink soaks in to over-exaggerate the facade his sweater gives off, making the man look weightier than he really is. His legs go through similar changes to his arms, getting thinner and stretchier, though his feet get larger to make the ‘character’ look more grounded, and less likely to topple over.

On Henry’s face, his features get simpler. All constructs of his eyes dissipate, except for the ‘pie-style’ eyes they’re replaced with. The man’s eyebrows reduce to simple lines as they gain the freedom to even surpass the top of his head to convey more dramatized expressions. His neck slimming, Henry’s vocal cords regress, making the changing man’s voice much more high-pitched, though not in a boyish or unflattering way. The fluffy, brown hair doesn’t change, much to the dazed man’s relief, though soon enough, all the color seems to leak out from the bottom of his form, and therefore, with the rest of the thick ink that would soon soak through the floorboards and leave Henry as… A toon.

He’s a toon.

“Gosh…” Henry slaps his hands over his mouth. What did he say? “What happened to my voice?! Did you hear me say that just now?!”

This is when he starts to panic, though in a cartoonish, goofy way. ‘Sweat drops’ fly from his forehead as his noodly legs wobble underneath him. He chews at the tips of his gloves like they’re his usual fingernails. “H-How much of that stuff did you even get on me, Bendy?”

“Uhh… I got a bucket full 'f ink from the Ink Machine?”

“YOU WHAT?!”

“Uh.. Eheheh… Whoops,” Bendy grins a big, nervous grin, placing his hands behind his back and backing away cautiously. “But ya know what? It’s gonna wear off in a few days! No need to worry at all!”

Henry glares with a menacing scowl, stomping the floor and groaning in frustration. “I have a wife waiting for me, Bendy! She’s gonna be looking all over for me, for pete’s sake!”

“Well, gee, Henry, I’m sorry,” Bendy sighs, kicking the floor in a meek manner as he shoves his gloved hands in nonexistent pockets, head hung low. And what a way to make Henry feel guilty, for as soon as Bendy apologizes for the horrible prank, the man-turned-toon’s expression softens. Henry inspects his body to the best of his ability, seeming somewhat shocked at the remaining joints in his arms. Clenching and unclenching his fists, the former human looks up from the floor to Bendy.

“… You know what? This can’t get any worse, I guess!” Henry exclaims with a sudden determined expression, pounding a fist into an open hand. “It shouldn’t take too long to wear off, right?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been an hour. Henry ALREADY can’t stand the sudden change, feeling very uncomfortable at the loss in height and mass. He finds himself a lot more prone to tripping and comedically falling on his face on every loose nail or floorboard. Tired of this nonsense, the new toon pouts and plops down in the middle of the floor, resting his head in a four-fingered hand.

… To which someone obliviously trips over him and lands with a light 'thud’ nearby.

“Gosh, are you okay?” GOD, he still hates that. The person that unfortunately didn’t see the tiny toon sits up and rubs his forehead, turning around to locate the source of Henry’s voice. Uh-oh.

It’s Joey.

“Pfft-” Joey starts to snicker before Henry would hastily shove a finger over his boss’s mouth. “Don’t. Laugh.”

“He-Henry, you- heheh.. You’re-”

“Choose your words CAREFULLY.”

Joey breaks down wheezing and giggling (like an idiot) as Henry reacts by turning a darker shade of grey, presumably getting red in the face from embarrassment. Joey wipes the tears from his eyes, catching his breath. “Y-You’re so… So CUTE…”

Leave it to Joey to find any and every way to push every button Henry has. The toon balls his fists and stomps angrily, like a toddler having a temper tantrum. And really? He’s not too far off from being just that.

“I am NOT cute, Joey,” Henry yells in his new, expressive voice. This prompts Joey to pinch the toon’s cheek, stretching it far past any human’s elasticity capacity.

“Ohhhh, yes you aaaare,” Joey teases with a big grin on his face. “How did this even HAPPEN?”

“Take a wild guess. And let go of me!”

Joey lets go of Henry’s cheek and gets up off the floor. “Let me guess. Is it something to do with the little devil himself?”

“Yeah, and when this is over, I’m getting rid of ALL the buckets in the studio,” Henry whines, crossing his arms and turning his back to his boss. “No exceptions! I don't WANT to be stuck like this forever!” The toon’s lip quivers as he’s thrown into a full-fledged, cartoony crying fit. He hardly seems to notice the shift in emotional expression, going from a stoic, no-funny-business animator to, well…

A goofy little dork.

Henry wails as literal waterfalls of tears flow from the corners of his eyes, water pooling on the floor at his sides. If someone doesn’t stop him, the entire room’s going to fill up!

Joey pinches the bridge of his nose. He ALREADY has to deal with THREE over-emotional toons! “Henry, you're NOT going to be stuck like this forever. But you WILL be stuck like this for at least a week.”

“A WEEK?!” Henry gasps, hands placed on each cheek. “I’M GONNA BE TRAPPED HERE FOR A WEEK? Ohhhhhh, this is UNBELIEVABLE…”

Joey rests a hand on the tiny toon’s shoulder, handing over a handkerchief so Henry can wipe his tears. Henry takes the cloth, sniffling pitifully as he blows his nose, prompting the sound of a trumpet blaring.  “What am I gonna do this whole time? I can’t animate like this!” The toon produces a pencil from behind his ear and holds it out. The pencil itself droops weakly as a spontaneous sad-trombone noise plays out of nowhere. He tosses the utensil behind him, proceeding to hit a nonexistent cat, a loud 'REEEEOW’ ringing out, followed by a CRASH.

Henry pulls, with stretchy arms, a fainting couch from what could only be called 'off-screen’. He rests a hand against his forehead as he crumbles onto the sofa with a weary expression. Joey rolls his eyes. It’s not like he can just tell Henry to stop being so dramatic.

“Now, Henry, there’s no need to… Fret,” Joey rubs the back of his head, somewhat bothered by the loss of his favorite handkerchief. “I don’t usually do this, but just this once, I’ll let you have a break for however long this lasts. How does that sound?”

Henry sits up in excitement. “Really? You'd do that? For me?”

“Well, I can’t imagine that it’d be very easy to draw with four fingers on each hand, and…”

Suddenly, Joey is wrapped in a hefty squeeze, with the toon’s arms wrapped around his form several times, like a coil. “Oh, thank you, Joey! I knew I could count on you,” Henry exclaims, with a big, goofy grin on his face.

“… It’s no trouble,” Joey smiles softly and hugs his co-worker back. “Now run along and do… Whatever it is you do when you’re not working. You can even try playing around with the other toons for a while!”

Henry pushes the fainting couch 'off-screen’ with a kick, resulting in another anomalous crash. “Play, huh? I haven’t played since sixth grade…”

“Well,” Joey starts. “What’s a toon to do other than goof around all day?” Henry raises a brow. “Oh, yeah? No. Not doing it.”

“You know you want to.”

Henry hesitates. Something in him agrees with his boss. He has some internal instinct to run amok and cause trouble, for sure. But on the other hand, he doesn’t want to get FIRED.

Plus, it’s REALLY embarrassing.

“… Well… I don’t know about this, Joey. It’s a little…”

“HENRY,” an unidentified voice, accompanied by swift footsteps rings out.

“Whuh, B-Boris- GUH!”

Henry gets tackled to the ground by the massive cartoon wolf, squeezed in one of his famous 'wolf hugs’. “Oh, Henry, look at you! You’re just like us!”

“Yeah, I, uh.. I noticed, buddy.”

Boris gasps. “You know what this means, right, Henry?”

Henry shrugs. “What DOES it mean, Boris?”

“It means that we gotta teach you how to be a toon!”

“I’m sure I know PLENTY.”

“Well, then, c'mon,” Boris exclaims, getting off of Henry, lifting him up and taking him by the hand. “Let’s go have some fun!”

“Wait, Boris-”

And just like that, Boris whisks Henry away as Joey watches with a smile. This is going to get interesting.

((hey guys in happier news, my friend skittle’s writing a super long and amazing toon henry fic for this blog’s au and this is part one. its amazing and adorable and i hope it gets the love it honestly deserves, and thank you again skittle for this Blessing of a fic :D))

part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven

[granpafrisbee]

Truth or Dare Part 1

Warnings: Cussing                    

Word Count: 3,752 (it’s gonna get longer tho)

Pairing: Bucky x OFC           

Masterlist

Summary: After going to Italy and avoiding any romantic relationships for pretty much all her life Joey comes back to the U.S. to move in with her life-long best friend, Sam Wilson, and his two closest friends from college. Joey’s met Steve but is apprehensive to meet the elusive Bucky, whom she’s always missed despite having visited Sam consistently throughout college. Once she meets him, however, she wonders how she’ll be able to run from love when they share a bathroom.

A/N: Hey, so I'll be updating this most Wednesdays. I'll try my hardest to stay regular. 

I wrote this using an OFC bc I cannot work my brain to replace my name with fucking Y/N and I know I'm not the only one. (I always end up reading it as fucking "yuuhnnumm"). I am fully in love with Zazie Beetz so our OFC is completely based on her except maybe a lil chubbier because why not. Really for the apartment just picture the layout of the New Girl loft.

I always have a confusing time picturing characters in fics so I'm gonna lay it out for y'all. Steve is full nomad, them honey brown locks and the full beard. Joey's hair is natural like Zazie so often wears it. Bucky is just Seb in fall/winter 2017 because I am weak for the I, Tonya press tour look. Sam is Mackie's classic look. The rest of the characters can be left to the imagination.

Also  I mention good music so listen to that if you want. Please let me know if you like this and follow my hot garbage tumblr.

Special thanks to @buckybarnesxoxo for asking to be tagged!

the AO3

Stay Sexy

It’s the bathroom that really impresses Joey. She believed Sam when he said the apartment was nice. On seeing it for the first time when moving in, she discovers that her best friend is distinctly incorrect. A working sink is nice. A proper heater is nice. A nearby laundromat is nice. This loft, this four-bedroomed palace, is exquisite in comparison to her previous abodes. The kitchen has all its necessary appliances. There are a washer and dryer in unit. The walls are thick enough that if Sam was stabbed in his neighboring room, she would maybe hear it. Four bedrooms with their very own closets. All of these have her speechless as she tours around. However, as stated above, it’s the bathroom that is killer. The idea of sharing said room with three men is maybe one of the more foreboding aspects of her new sweet digs, but once she sees the giant clawfoot shower and tub, she is sure the positives will heavily outweigh the negatives.

She immediately slides down into her new porcelain palace. She’s a medium height at 5’6”, and even she has to point her toes to touch the far end of the tub. She sighs comfortably and is already planning an essential oils combination for her first real bath when the door swings open and her fantasy is interrupted by one her new roommates. He’s the one she hasn’t met yet but Sam and Steve have shown her plenty of pictures. His hair looks soft and well-coiffed and he wears a tank top under an unbuttoned striped short sleeve button down. Rather than judgment appearing across his abnormally handsome face, he smiles like there was nothing else he could have expected when entering the bathroom.

“You see I specifically told Steve to get a bathtub that doesn’t come with a human.”

“Oh no, you got it all wrong. I’m actually a ghost here to haunt you but hygienically. Instead of boo, I say floss.” She says without a beat and he nods, very seriously, in response to this.

“You know I’m pretty sure I just carried in a bed to our fourth room that might be more comfortable than the tub, but who am I to judge one’s preferred sleeping arrangements.” His quip is followed by another fantastic smile, and based on the past ten seconds of her life Joey is absolutely sure that this is her kind of human.

She smiles back and extends her hand from the tub. “Joey.”

“Bucky,” He shakes her hand and nods again.

“You guys brought up my bed? I told Samuel to let me handle that shit.”

He laughs and scratches his beard, “Ah just gave me another opportunity to show Sam how much stronger I am than him. And Steve the chance to show up both of us.”

Joey chuckles and silently appreciates how Bucky balanced his dig on Sam with some light self-depreciation of himself. Although it would be unrealistic to pretend that anyone was stronger than Steve. The man is built. “Seriously though, I’ll come help y’all out. I’m not gonna be the useless roommate.” She gets out of the tub and starts out the door.

“Oh I wouldn’t worry about that, I think Sammy’s got that title covered, Darlin’.” He follows her out and therefore doesn’t see her face cringe at the pet name.

She considers calling him on it when Sam yells from the front door, “I know you’re not in there besmirching me to my very own best friend Barnes,” He enters view sweaty and smiling, “And I especially know she wasn’t participating, because she is my best friend and therefore automatically on my side.” He wraps his arm protectively around her shoulders causing her to shrug away from him with her nose scrunched.

“Consider our friendship on sabbatical until you take a shower, Wilson.” Joey continues backing away.

“Jesus I always knew your personality stank but I guess the inside always comes out huh.” Bucky mirrors Joey’s disgusted face as he walks towards the door.

Sam rolls his eyes, “Not funny.” Although the involuntary “Hah!” Joey lets out at Bucky’s comment seems to contradict his statement. Sam just flips her off.

“Thank you, Doll. You see Sammy, even your best friend thinks I’m right.” Bucky mocks as he heads back outside.

This time Sam sees her face twist in reaction to the nickname. Misinterpreting it he grumbles, “Oh come on there’s no way you can smell me from over there.” He starts to head to his room, presumably for deodorant.

Joey follows Bucky downstairs to help with some more furniture moving. Steve is outside their building, ass in the air, bent over picking something up. “Damn Rogers,” Joey calls out appreciatively, “If I knew I’d be getting a view like that I would have shacked up with you years ago.”

He stands up, holding up an entire bookshelf on his own, further challenging the poor under armor shirt that is being stretched to hell on his giant frame. “Hey killer, thanks for joining us.”

She picks up a lamp and smiles at him, “Well I figured you guys needed the extra muscle.”

His smile is bright against his beard as he walks into the house with the ease of a man who isn't carrying a bookshelf.

The four of them finish loading their sporadic furniture into the loft and the afternoon fades to early evening. An old but amazing and huge high-quality leather sectional provided by Steve’s mom. Sam’s flat screen, whom he’s named Esmeralda, and may or may not have a near sexual attraction to. Bucky’s records and a player that’s older than any of them, plus a big wooden dinner table his Dad handmade. Steve’s varied level of completed canvases and paint stuff. Joey’s shelves and chairs she found on the side of the road her senior year in college. A mix of plates, bowls, and utensils have been loaded into varying drawers and cabinets. As well as cooking instruments, although, beyond Joey’s waffle iron and an old cast iron from Steve, it’s all Sam’s. Everyone’s personal boxes and furniture is piled in their own rooms.

Joey sits on the kitchen island as the boys lean against it, all sipping the cheap beer Joey bought as penance for them carrying her bed in. She takes that moment to appreciate the weird chain of events that got her where she is now. She and Sam have been friends since grade school. They went to different colleges but remained good ol’ buddies throughout. When they graduated Joey traveled around and did an apprenticeship with an Italian glassblower. Sam went to Culinary school, and when he graduated the second time around Joey was offered a job with a world-renowned blower (god she will never get tired of calling her profession that) stateside. After little luck finding a two bedroom inexpensive enough for the two of them, Steve, one of Sam’s old college buddies Joey had met many a time during visits, mentioned his friend's dad owned a couple lofts in the neighborhood they were looking in. Sam toured with Steve and Bucky and the three of them signed the lease that day. Sam called Joey that night and announced he was so confident that he forged her signature. He was insistent that it was the best option they’d find, all Steve is a good guy and fellow artist, and even Bucky is sometimes bearable but don’t tell him that. Steve paints and sketches in his free time and works as a personal trainer to pay the bills. Joey knows he isn’t passionate about it, but with his perfect body and matching attitude, she is sure he is fantastic at his job. Sam is starting at a new restaurant with a name Joey can only pronounce thanks to high school French. A plus for living with Sam is that he brings work home with him. Although Joey had visited Sam plenty over the years and even struck up a solid friendship with Steve, she always seems to have missed Bucky. They had never met but she knew he was a language major with a focus in Eastern Europe and Russia. Sam had told her Bucky translated English books into Russian and vice versa and made more money than he should. Earlier Joey had heard him curse in some sort of Slavic tongue when Sam “accidentally” dropped his end of a coffee table on Bucky’s foot. She also had heard a few stories about Steve and Bucky’s childhood, the rambunctious troublemakers lived up to every tall tale. As the four nursed their beers she felt confident that this was going to be a very important group of people in her life.

“Joey?” Sam snapped her out of her thoughts.

“What?”

“Barnes suggested we get more beer and pizza and invite some friends over. Are you down?” The three men looked at her expectantly.

“I say hell yeah. Who are we calling?” She looked down at her watch and was surprised to see it was only 6:30.

“Well there are the couples, Nat and Wanda and Thor and Bruce,” Steve suggested.

“I told Shuri I’d pay her in alcohol if she set up all the tech shit,” Bucky adds.

Steve nods, “Now that you mention it, we should probably invite Tony, he’s the reason we got this place.”

“Tony means at least Rhodey and probably Pep, Clint is a must, and if we invite Wanda we should call Pietro too.” Sam finishes his beer and scrolls through his messages.

“Brunnhilde and Okoye are in town too.” Joey hops off the counter and recycles the empty bottles collecting on the island.

“Alright you guys decide who to invite, and I’ll go get libations and sustenance,” Bucky grabs his keys.

“With the list we’ve got you’ll need some help, I’ll come with,” Joey volunteers.

Bucky smiles vibrantly and nods towards to Steve, “You okay babysitting Rogers?”

“As long as Killer doesn’t mind your unreasonably picky ass,” Steve’s retort is so quick that Bucky and Sam raise their middle fingers simultaneously at their aggravator.

Joey and Bucky decide to start off to the pizzeria three blocks away and pick up the beer on the walk back. The walk begins in mildly uncomfortable silence.

“So… you’re picky?” Joey asks to spark some sort of conversation.

“Nooo..” Bucky’s defensiveness creates an endearing drawl, “Those two pompous asses just don’t understand that I like my pizza simple. Margherita pizza is a fucking gift. Who am I to screw it up with a bunch of American bullshit?” He gestures widely as he speaks.

“You’re kidding right?”

Bucky’s must have misinterpreted her smile as he quickly responds, “Alright I’ve been judged enough in my life, I know you lived in Italy and-”

“No, no, Bucky!” She grabs his forearm, “Margherita is my favorite! I ate it all the time in Italy, judgment-free.”

“Jesus Christ Doll, where have you been all my life?”

She smiles and they continue a brisk pace to the pizza place. “How did you know I lived in Italy?”

“Ah, I know plenty about you. Sammy talks about you non-stop, has since I met him. Steve even thought he was secretly in love with you until he hung out with you in person.”

This makes Joey raise her brows, “Really? Wow. What, if I may ask, ultimately caused him to accept our relationship as extraordinarily platonic? Was it the sibling-like side hugs? The lack of sexual tension in our banter? The fact that I knew him during his first mustache phase?”

“Are you telling me there was a skinnier mustache than the one we know and mildly tolerate?”

“I’m talking Prince but pubescent. It was so thin models asked his mustache for dieting tips. It was so thin his first girlfriend thought he had an eyelash over his top lip. I mean you would’ve thought he drew it on with a ballpoint pen. In fact, it’s very possible it was. Just because I never saw doesn’t mean he never-”

Bucky is laughing uproariously, “Please, please, you’re killing me. I’m gonna need pictures as soon as possible.”

“No can do. I will recite the epic of the mustache homer-style until the day I die, but any physical evidence shared will prompt an all-out war between Samuel and me. That is just something I can’t afford.”

“Oh now I have to see them. What’s your secret shame, sweetheart? Bangs? Braces? Please tell me it was an emo phase,” As he lists off he starts walking backward, the goofy smile didn't dim once.

“I’ll never share, but trust me when I say if you find something behind my back, I’m sure Steve will be more than willing to share some pictures of your past. Emo phase is a good guess, but if I didn’t know any better I’d say that was a projection, hmm?”

That does a good job of replacing his smile with pursed lips and a quirked eyebrow, contemplating his next move in this battle of embarrassing adolescence. “Steve would never betray me.”

“Don’t be so sure, all men have their weaknesses,” She smiles deviously.

“Oh yeah, you gonna seduce him for a picture of me in eyeliner?”

“First of all, I would seduce Steve for much less so thanks for confirming my emo theories. Secondly, I may not know Steve like you do, but I know him well enough to see that seduction would hardly prove fruitful.” She holds the door open for him and they both bask in the practically orgasmic scent of the pizzeria, “Steve is so suspicious of anyone who wants to sleep with him that he’d see through me. My method would be to trick him to do some sort of high school ‘Where are they now?’ portrait. He’d be so inspired he’d paint your lined eyes and black, I’m guessing, over parted hair in a second.” The line is moving slowly and he admires how she never lowers her volume or hides from strangers eyes.

“Damn, Doll, you’re good.”

“I minored in manipulation.” The store isn’t too packed for Saturday night and Sam Cooke is playing lightly in the background. She’s nodding her head and he’s mouthing along to words and when they both realize this they share a smile at the music.

“So Steve is a suspicious mind in your book?” She chuckles at his reference.

“I’m not the biggest drinker and neither is Steve, so when Sammy went hard when I visited, Steve was always good for a tipsy talk. The poor guy has the same self-esteem he must have had in high school. Unlike us three cool cats Steve will show me pictures of his past self. I know you were there through it all, but just because the outside changes doesn’t mean the inside follows suit. I have seen the most dedicated and gorgeous women throw themselves at him and yet he remains sure that she was ‘just being friendly’. It’s actually impressive.”

“I know what you mean. To be fair though a lot of that is just his college girlfriend. She really did a number on him.” He runs a hand through his hair but doesn’t hide his contempt for whoever she is.

Solemn surprise covers Joey’s features, “I never knew. Never met her on any visits.”

“She wasn’t big on him talking to other girls, probably hid him anytime you came around. Although that isn’t my story to tell, I’m sure the punk will tell you about it sometime.” She follows his eye line down to his shoes. He’s drawing stars with the tip of his shoe, a tic she’s just noticing.

“What about you? You have a girl hiding you away, distracting you during your collegiate years? She the reason our meeting was so unluckily delayed until today?”

He thinks about the answer for a second or two. “Nah, no anchor to this ship. At this point, I’m just convinced Wilson just didn’t tell me you were around because he knew you would like me more than him.”

“Well turns out I like Steve better than both of you.”

He puts his hands up and reassures her, “I don’t need to be first, Sweetheart, just as long as I’m on your radar.” As he lowers his hands the song changes and they simultaneously recognize the song, both begin humming the initial notes. “Penny & The Quarters fan huh?” He asks.

“Nobody, baby, but-” she sings before quickly turning her attention to the cashier, “We’ll have two large Everything Pizzas and one large Margherita.” Facing Bucky again she smiles and drops another line that makes his heart race, “Just for you and me, huh?”

The pizza is out quick, and a trip to the local gas station provides them with more than enough beer. They continue discussing music, Joey is surprised at their similarly irregular taste. He describes his favorite Etta James songs, but can’t forget the Simon and Garfunkel song that he thinks is his first love encapsulated. He lists his top three favorite rappers after ranking contemporary folk bands. She adds in her opinions sporadically, and he apologizes twice for dominating the conversation when they get in the elevator.

She is being honest when she says, “There’s nothing I want to hear more than whatever you’re going to say right this moment.” He thinks that every lyric in every song he’s just listed doesn’t have shit on that sentence.

He’s about to tell her so when an alarming large hand last minute catches the elevator as it closes. The doors open to the Thor and Bruce. The couple is the lynchpin of every good party, from rager to kickback. Thor is the greatest hype man in history but is never hammered, probably because it would take two handles of tequila to get him there. Bruce is much more chill but a secret god at beer pong, not to mention he always has weed. Bucky’s favorite part of their presence always happens when Bruce is particularly high and begins a lecture on some sort of subject no one else understands. He isn’t exactly captivating, especially not to anyone far from sober although his passion is palpable, but Thor will plop down on the couch next to him and watch him like he’s the only thing in the universe (while rubbing Bruce’s neck to keep him from getting too wound up). Bucky loves those guys.

“Looks like we arrived just in time, wouldn’t you say Thor?” Bruce shakes Bucky’s hand and smiles at Joey.

“Of course! I was worried we got too much pizza, but now that you’re here Thor I’m sure you’ll help us with any surplus.” Joey sets the pizzas down before Thor pulls her into a bear hug.

“Joey, you know I never leave a damsel in distress,” Thor agrees as he sets her back on her feet.

Joey’s eyebrow playfully shoots up, “Who are you calling damsel, Odinson?”

“In this case, definitely Sam. I’m surprised he even let you order out.” Bruce answers for his boyfriend.

“My love is right in my insinuation. Never ever have I seen you anywhere near damsel status Joe.” Bucky watches their interaction with curiosity.

The elevator dings and Bucky asks, “This may seem like a dumb question but how do you guys know each other? Just through Sam?”

Joey picks up the pizzas as Thor holds the door open, ”Thor’s siblings and I were all in a group home together as teens. I’ve known this big lug long before he was the Nordic party god we see before us.” Thor laughs and he and Bruce go to greet everyone inside.

“Are you telling me Thor hasn’t always been a blonde beefcake?” Bucky whispers in Joey’s ear as they set the pizza and beer on the counter.

“Sadly no, he’s looked like that since I met him. I just like making that joke because he’s too humble to care.” She makes note that he doesn’t question the foster home part of her story. She wonders just what Sam has told him about her past.

People start to crowd the food and drinks, so Joey and Bucky greet everyone who has arrived. Nat is there sans Wanda, who is at home sick. Bucky knows this means Nat will be leaving early. Pietro made it despite his ill sibling, but he still looks pretty sick of the conversation in front of him. Shuri and Clint are mid-argument about the chicken and the egg when Bucky thanks them for coming. Clint gives him a smile and points to a fake succulent on the table and mumbles, “Got you guys a housewarming present,” before returning his attention to telling Shuri that the Chicken is the obvious choice. Shuri tells Bucky she set up the wifi and the apple tv and Clint doesn’t even register that she’s talking over him. Bucky kisses her cheek and hands her a beer.

Steve is sitting with Bruce and Thor on the couch, all of them engrossed in conversation and pizza. Sam is chopping fresh onion for his pizza when Bucky asks, “These are the few you could bribe to get here?”

“These losers are the only ones without any plans on a Saturday night,” Sam says without looking up.

Clint and Pietro both look up and say a simultaneous, “Hey!” Before turning their attention back to their conversation.

“T’Challa and Nakia are in Paris. Brunnhilde has a gig tonight. Okoye hung up on me when I said pizza and beer. Parker has an exam. Tony named six events he was invited to tonight and would’ve kept going if Steve hadn’t hung up. Pepper and Rhodey are probably plus thing one and two wherever Tony ended up at. Thus, this motley crew is all we got.” Sam sprinkles his diced onion on top of his already spilling slice and when he bites into it his groan stops the conversations surrounding the apartment.

“Lame. Your intestines are not going to be thanking you for that monster you are devouring under the alias of pizza.” Joey makes a face as he continues to stuff his face.

“Like eating just mozzarella and basil is enjoyable at all,” Sam dismisses her and joins the rest of their crew.

“Heathens,” Bucky dramatically admonishes their friends, “You ready Doll?”

This time he catches the tightening of her expression at his comment, ”Born ready.” They both grab a piece of their untouched pizza and taps crusts in cheers.

Part 2

Part 3

Thanks for reading!