#dad bought candies n gum when he got back home :-)

[divorcebf]

💖💗💓💞💕

[freaoscanlin]

Put It On the List

3283 words, rated PG. Clint/Laura, Laura & Natasha, Natasha & Clint.

A few months before the events of Captain America: Winter Soldier, the spy life interrupts the Barton family on a normal errand. Perhaps bringing the scary ex-Russian spy was a mistake. She thinks so, at any rate.

A/N: I wrote this as something of a prelude to an Endgame fix-it fic in progress. It predates everything in that fic and it's cute, so I'm tossing it up here for now.

“Everybody’s allowed one fun item, too. House rules.”

“Not sure they sell anything I consider fun here,” Natasha said, glancing up at the rafters dubiously, “but I’ll take it under consideration.”

“Dirty,” Clint said, walking by with a green bunch of bananas.

“Sorry we can’t provide more excitement than grocery shopping,” Laura said as she pulled out the stash of reusable bags from the trunk.

“It’s fine.”

Laura was of the opinion that a vacation should be taken somewhere exotic, or at least filled with bottomless alcoholic beverages, especially given as young and unfettered as Natasha was. But the woman who had recently become Captain America’s partner at SHIELD had apparently decided a week off merited a trip to Iowa and she had been absolutely content to tag along on family outings with no apparently sign of boredom at all.

“It’s okay,” Clint said, hopping out from the driver’s seat as Natasha unhooked Lila from her car seat. “Nat’s secretly boring at heart. It’s the best kept secret at SHIELD.”

Natasha gave him a puzzled look. “Now, that can’t be true if even you’ve figured it out.”

“Excellent burn,” Laura said, laughing. “You really should come stay more often.”

“Somebody needs to keep Cap in line, otherwise I would.” Nat easily swung Lila onto her hip, following the other three as Cooper grabbed onto his father’s hand.

Laura had already spent the entire dinner the night before peppering her with questions about working with Steve Rogers, the Captain America from the comments. Clint had mentioned him a few times after that kerfuffle in New York with the Chitauri (“Nice guy, wears khakis.”), but Natasha had the inside scoop. And more willingness to share if he was as attractive in person as he looked on TV in that ridiculous star-striped uniform (“If you like that square-jawed All-American sort of thing, sure.”). Laura had even pointed out that, hey, if he was single...

“Yes, the ex-Russian spy and the American war hero. It sounds too much like a bad eighties movie.” Natasha had helped herself to more creamed corn. “I think I’ll have to find him a girlfriend to avoid ever having to answer that question again.”

“Hey,” Laura had said, protesting.

“Fair,” Clint had agreed.

And now here was the ex-Russian spy herself tagging along at the grocery store, carrying Lila and looking like there wasn’t anyplace else she’d rather be than the big chain grocery store a few towns over because they had a better selection of gluten free snacks than the Shop A Lot back home. She trailed along as Clint took over the cart, Lila kicking her legs happily from the child’s seat atop.

“You’ve got the list?” Laura asked.

“I thought you had it?”

“Clint, I said you need to grab it off the fridge before we left. Weren’t you listening?”

“I always listen to you. But it wasn’t on the fridge, so I thought you had it.”

“That’s ridiculous, I put it there last night and—” Laura turned to see Natasha silently holding it out, eyebrows high. “Oh, that works. Thanks, Natasha.”

A half-shrug. “He would’ve forgotten it.”

“They’re impugning my honor,” Clint told Lila and Cooper, the former of whom giggled back at him. “What’s first? Edible or not edible?”

“Food first. Oh, hey, did you remember to put the popsicle sticks on here? Cooper’s day camp was asking people to donate supplies, and I put us down for those.”

“Yes, I absolutely did that. For no reason whatsoever, may I see the list?” Clint grabbed it away and underhandedly passed it to Natasha. Since Laura caught the move, she figured they weren’t actually trying to hide it.

When the list returned to her, “popsicle sticks” was written on the appropriate line in slightly loopy handwriting. “Cute,” Laura said. “Also, if there’s food you want that we don’t have at the house, make sure you put it in, Nat.”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay. Just keep it in mind.” Laura smirked. “Everybody’s allowed one fun item, too. House rules.”

“Not sure they sell anything I consider fun here,” Natasha said, glancing up at the rafters dubiously, “but I’ll take it under consideration.”

“Dirty,” Clint said, walking by with a green bunch of bananas.

Natasha rolled her eyes at him, but a small smile broke out when Laura laughed. Later, Laura noticed that a small bag of nectarines had been added to the cart.

Normally she did this errand without two spies in tow, which was a matter of getting the groceries as quickly as possible and especially speeding through the aisles with the brightly colored boxes that would make Cooper and now Lila whine. Clint’s paycheck was more than generous enough to cover their expenses, but she liked to keep the sugar down at least a little. Grocery trips could be a nightmare from that alone. But now she could send one of them down the danger aisles, while the other distracted the children.

She could get used to this.

Of course, she could have just sent Clint or even Natasha to do the shopping—or gone herself—and she imagined they’d have it done in less than a fifth of the time it took them to wander the aisles now. But Clint had been called on so many SHIELD missions lately that it was nice to just have some family time together.

She was about to suggest they hit up the putt putt course on the way home when Clint’s body language snapped into readiness. On the other side of the cart, Natasha turned away in what most people would deem a casual fashion, but Laura was surprised to see tension running across the line of her shoulders as well.

Instantly, she began to turn her head, to see what had set them both off.

“Don’t look,” Natasha said, Clint echoing her a split-second later.

Cold panic sprang up, but Laura froze in place. The air conditioning turned abruptly frigid. In the basket, Lila had conked out, wheezing a little, and Laura had never been so grateful for her daughter’s ability to fall asleep anywhere.

“This way,” Clint said in a murmur, scooping up Cooper. To strangers, it would never look out of the ordinary, but Laura knew her husband too well to be fooled. And his partner, too, apparently, for she could sense something amiss as Natasha fell in step behind her. At the end of the aisle, away from the registers and most of the store, Clint began shoving aside various things in the cart to deposit Cooper in there. He glanced at Laura. “It’ll be okay, honey. Nat, are they here for you or me?”

“Me.” The word was flat. “They’re scoping out women.”

“Who? Who’s here for what?”

She’d seen Clint and Natasha’s silent conversations before, usually at holiday dinners, but those were always warm and amused. Now, Laura was treated to the fact that they seemingly had their own entire language—and the ability to hold arguments with little more than a few nods and pointed looks.

“Mom, what’s going on?” Cooper asked. “Dad put the stuff back wrong.”

“I know. It’s okay, though. The store employees will know where to put it back properly.” Her pulse had begun to hammer, but Laura did her best to keep her hands steady as she petted Lila’s bent head.

“Fine, you win,” Natasha said, the first words she’d spoken aloud. “Where?”

“Northeast corner, break room.” Clint collected an oversized bucket of licorice, and as Laura and Cooper gawked at him, popped it open and dumped the individually wrapped candies into the cart.

Natasha dropped her phone into it and grabbed Laura’s purse.

“What? Hey, don’t—”

Natasha pulled out a few items, including Laura’s phone. This she dumped in the bucket. An unfamiliar black box, she tossed to Clint. Laura stared mournfully at the shimmery blue phone case bought off of Etsy only last week as the entire bucket was hidden on a shelf behind a case of gum. Clint tossed his hooded jacket to Natasha, gave Laura one brief, heart-stopping look, tousled Cooper’s hair, kissed Lila on the head, and strode off without looking back.

“We were followed,” Natasha said in an undertone, pulling the hood over her distinctive hair.

Followed could mean anything from evil assassins to space aliens at this point, and both of those options led to nauseating conclusions. But Natasha shot her a look, so Laura nodded and swallowed back any panic. And then she changed again, quicksilver just like Clint, so that she was bright and happy Auntie Natasha once more. She picked up Cooper out of the basket and held onto his hand, swinging it cheerfully. “Time to play a new fun game. It’s called ‘Let’s be invisible.’”

“How do you play?”

“Our job,” and Natasha actually hunkered down so that she was on eye level with Cooper, “is to get all the way there,” she pointed to the back of the store, “as fast as we can without running. Because if we run, we won’t be invisible anymore.”

“This is a silly game, Auntie Nat.”

“That’s half the fun, isn’t it? Shh, come with me.” Natasha rose and made brief eye contact with Laura, then headed down the aisle in the opposite direction from Clint. She walked briskly, but not fast enough to draw attention, and Laura had to follow. “Clint’s scoping things out,” she said in a low voice as Laura caught up with the sleeping Lila. “He’ll be fine. I’m taking you and the kids to hide.”

“Are you going to stay with us?”

“You’ll be safe.”

So that was a no. Because she knew her friend well enough, she knew Natasha was tense and watchful, but not a single thing about her betrayed that fact. Natasha didn’t lead them straight to wherever they were going, either. They crossed the store through random aisles, first through the art department and then sporting goods, and Laura’s heart sank as she noticed they were approaching the toy department. They were never escaping without at least one meltdown.

But Natasha surprised her by leaning down and whispering something to Cooper that had him giggling. And right on through they went without a single problem.

“Shh,” Natasha said to Cooper as she pushed open the door to a break room. She peeked inside, then jerked her head for Laura to follow.

“What are we doing, Auntie Nat?” Cooper asked as Natasha immediately climbed onto a table and reached for the ceiling.

“New part of the game,” Natasha said.

Laura looked at the human-sized trap door she’d opened and thought Oh no.

“You get to go up there,” Natasha said. “And it’ll be like hide and seek.”

Cooper’s expression suddenly shouted that he found the prospect of invisibility much less enchanting now. “It looks scary.”

“I’ll be with you,” Laura said. “The whole time. We’ll be invisible together, okay?”

“You first, and I’ll hand them up,” Natasha said.

Laura clambered gingerly onto the table, wishing she’d worn better shoes for this. She put her foot into Natasha’s cupped hands and hauled herself into a very, very dusty vent. Darkness surrounded her and she thought Oh, no. Cooper needed a nightlight on the best of nights. Her son was far cleverer than most; even with Natasha’s easy cheer, he could clearly tell something was off. And if he began crying, Lila was bound to wake as well. Keeping them both quiet would be beyond impossible.

Natasha passed Lila up first, and the toddler barely even stirred. Before she could lift Cooper, she hopped off the table and down to his level. Laura couldn’t hear what she said, but she saw Cooper nod and hold his arms up, completely trusting.

When Natasha lifted him up into the vent, he had his chubby little fist wrapped around a little flashlight. Laura hadn’t even seen Natasha pull that from the shelf, though she recognized it as being from sporting goods. Cooper waved it about, wildly.

“I couldn’t grab much,” Natasha said, hauling herself up so that she hung half off the trap door. Laura would kill for that kind of core strength. She slid over two coloring books and crayons. “Sorry about that. Stay here until Clint or I come to get you. If somebody comes in, we’re invisible, right?”

“Invisible,” Cooper agreed, scrambling for the coloring books.

“Good man.” Natasha reached up to ruffle his hair like Clint had done. She glanced about the air vent in a distinctly sardonic way. “Cozy.”

“Stay safe.”

“Will do.” She raised an eyebrow at Laura, and disappeared down the hatch. A few seconds later, the trapdoor slid back into place, leaving Laura in a dark vent with her children and no cell phone to keep them company.

She had to remind herself that they were lucky something like this hadn’t happened before, though that felt like cold comfort when everything smelled like dust. She shifted the sleeping Lila in her arms. “Here, set it here,” she said, helping Cooper open the coloring book. “What shall we color first, huh?”

* * * *

Nearly eleven minutes later, Natasha knelt down next to the man she’d cornered in Home and Garden and resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Coincidence.”

“Yup.” Clint sounded close to laughter, the traitor.

“The whole thing. Coincidence.”

“Looks that way.”

Natasha sat down hard on the bottom shelf, which held giant sacks of birdseed. Slamming his head into those rather than the concrete floor was probably the only reason the thug was even still breathing. She’d need to hide the body soon, and alert SHIELD, but she had a few minutes to recover. The cell phone she’d stolen out of his pocket after their fight didn’t show an image of her, as she’d expected, but a completely random woman who looked nothing like Natasha outside of being the same height.

It had definitely been a hit, but she hadn’t been the target.

At least they’d saved some random woman, so there was that.

“We should’ve known they weren’t here for you when there were only two of them,” Clint said over the earpiece. He’d teased her about stashing them in Laura’s purse before they left, the traitor. And look who’d been correct to do so. It had kept them in contact as he’d stalked his own target back to the clearance section in the back. “Mine’s taken care of. You?”

“One minute.” She hauled the man bodily onto the shelf and tossed sacks of birdseed over him.

“I’ll get the phones and swing by to steal the surveillance. You fetch Laura and the kids.”

Natasha winced. The last thing she wanted to do was face Laura after ruining this outing for everybody. “I think they’d rather see their daddy after being stuffed in a dark place out of nowhere.”

“Nah, Auntie Nat is just as good,” Clint said. “Face it, you’re part of the family now, god help you.”

“Yeah, part of the family that can’t even let us go grocery shopping without disaster striking.”

There was a warm laugh from the other side of the comms. “Disaster? This is nothing compared to getting two small children through the cereal aisle without a tantrum, Romanoff.”

Natasha, reaching up to fix the braids that had become disordered during the scuffle, wrinkled her nose. She debated whether or not to swing by the staff restrooms on the way and clean up the lucky hit the thug had landed, but decided it was more important to get la familia Barton out of the vents quickly. The less time the children spent in a dark, scary place, the better.

She resolutely did not think of the absolute darkness of thatshipping container, which unfortunately brought the thoughts closer to the surface than she liked.

But she also didn’t want to scare the children, so she grabbed a hand towel off an endcap as she passed, and dabbed at her face.

Mercifully, the break room remained empty when she stepped in. “All clear,” she said, moving the table back under the trap door. “Invisible game’s over.”

From inside, she heard thumping. “Auntie Nat!”

“Cooper, wait—” was the only warning she had before the trap door opened and Cooper launched himself at her.

She snatched him out of the air, and absolutely did not think about what could have happened if she’d been slower to react. “Whoa, okay. Excited to get out of there, huh?” Laura’s white face appeared over the edge, eyes wide. Natasha mouthed he’s fine back at her. “Here, climb down, let me help your mom and your sister out.”

“I stayed so-o-o-o quiet,” Cooper said. “We colored in a dinosaur for you, but we didn’t know your favorite color so I picked red like your hair. What is your favorite color? There’s another dinosaur on the page, so if it’s not red, I can use that color instead.”

“I do like red a lot.” Natasha thought about it. “Purple, too, maybe.”

“You can’t have purple, that’s Dad’s favorite color.”

“Coop, more than one person can have purple as their favorite color,” Laura said, transferring Lila down to Natasha. Mercifully the baby had slept through all of it. “I like purple, too, remember?”

Cooper wrinkled his nose at that. “Okay, fine. I’ll make it purple.”

“I can’t wait to see it,” Natasha promised. Once the entire family had been retrieved, she pushed the trap door back into place. Of course Clint had scouted this spot months ago. His paranoia remained legendary. “Family’s secure, Barton.”

“Got it,” Clint said. “Heading to the front.”

“Meet you there,” Natasha said. To the others with her, she tilted her head toward the door. “Ready to get out of here?”

Laura looked more or less composed, which Natasha had to credit her for. Civilians rarely handled those kinds of curveballs well, but she’d been married to Clint for a decade. It stood to reason this might not even be the first time something like this had happened. Her grip on the sleeping Lila remained tight. “Coop, hold Auntie Nat’s hand, okay? Humor me.”

“All right, I guess.”

“Everything good?” Laura asked.

“False alarm,” Natasha said.

One eyebrow went up. “A false alarm gave you a split lip?”

Natasha worked at it with her tongue, scrunching her nose at the brief spark of pain. “Just another exciting day in our line of work. It all turned out okay, if you ignore that we were unsuccessful in our primary objective.”

Laura looked blank, so Natasha prompted: “Getting the groceries, Barton.”

“Pfft, whatever. We’ll get takeout. We’ll consider it an adventure, and it won’t even be the first one today. Hopefully there will be less dust this time.” Laura leaned over, conspiratorially. “I am getting my phone back, right? I really like the case, and it’ll take forever to get another one like it.”

Years of espionage training kept Natasha from staring at her like she’d sprouted a second head. Clint had told her years before that his wife was far more pragmatic than either of them, but she’d never had a chance to witness it in action before. She almost wanted to ask if this was some kind of backwoods Midwestern thing, but it seemed better not to do that.

So she settled into a helpless laugh. “Yes, we’ll get your phone back. The case is really cute.”

“Good. I knew you’d agree.” Laura squeezed her shoulder with her free hand, and it felt more like a thank you than Natasha had ever received after years and years on the job.

“One point,” Natasha said, feeling a tiny bit shy as as she pulled out a package she’d swiped on their trip through the store earlier. “We should probably pay for the coloring books. And these.”

Laura looked down at the bag of popsicle sticks and laughed. “You really are a hero.”

FIN

(the target was a leaked witsec hit. Bad timing all around)

[babyspiderling]

Love Undercover   one

“Leiman! I got a story for you! Go undercover as a high school student, do a piece on teen culture or whatever the parents need to hear about their kids. This could be your shot kid!” Flashes of my own high school career three years ago plague my mind. “Sir, are you sure this is a good story? I mean, there are harder hitting stories than a piece on teen culture.” Mr. Edward's eyebrow simply raises in response, and I slink back to my desk. I raise my desk phone to my ear and ring my older brother, Anthony. “Tony, they’re making me go back to school. I thought I would never have to go back. It was hell.” I hear him chuckle through the phone. “Why are they making you go back? You lose your diploma or something?” I scoff into the phone. “No, Tony. They want me to go undercover since I’m the only one who can pass for a child here. I start on Monday. Shit, I gotta attempt to dress like a high school girl again. Thank god I’ve been the same dress size since my junior year. See you tonight Tony, we still on for dinner?” I hear him confirm for me into the microphone and I click the phone off. Standing and gathering my things I peek my head into my editor's office. “Mr. Edwards, I’m headed out to get ready for my assignment. I’ll see you soon.” He nods at me, letting me know he’ll enroll me this afternoon for Monday’s classes and I take my leave. 

Monday arrives sooner than later. I feel like a freshman again, out of my element and out of my comfort zone. My hair had been trimmed to a popular cut and I had been trained on how to style it. My journalist instincts took over at the mall, taking in what teens were wearing and how they were wearing it. For my first day I bought a striped blouse with a longer skirt to seem neutral. The end of winter chill caused me to grab a cardigan on my way out and I climbed into the front seat of my old “Mystery Machine” ready to go back to high school. 

“Well, three new students in a month, must be a new record. Tom and Doug McQuaid and now Y/N Leiman. This way.” The balding principal tosses my schedule at me and walks off in large, commanding strides. “Tell me Miss Leiman, are you a troublemaker like the other newcomers?” My eyebrows pull together in confusion. “No, no sir. I’m not a troublemaker.” He pulls to a stop in front of a door. “This is your first class. I’m sure someone will show you around. Prove yourself to be on your best behavior Miss Leiman. Wouldn’t want you to be labeled as a hoodlum.” He turns to walk away but is distracted by a skipping student roaming the halls. I tuck my hair behind my ear and fix my appearance. I take one last breath of confidence and open the creaking door. The click of my heels only adds to the attention as the entire class watches me with curious eyes. I feel the girls sizing me up, the boys appraising my value, and the teacher annoyed at the interruption. “This is Mrs. Dustin’s class right? I’m new here.” The woman takes the papers from my hands and catches herself up. “Yes, you’re in the right place. Please take a seat.” I nod and take one of the only seats left open, next to a boy dressed in leather and an earring in his ear. I struggle to remind myself that I’m at least three to four years older than these students, too intimidated by their stares to fill with confidence. I tuck my hair away from my face as I pull out my pen and notebook from my bag. I start to write a mixture of notes for the class and notes for my story when something sharp stabs into my thigh. Turning my head with pinched eyebrows I look at the boy reeking of trouble. “You got any gum? Teach made me swallow my last piece last period.” I nod and rummage through my bag. “Mint, cinnamon, or bubble?” He looks at me in a bit of shock at the number of choices. “Bubble.” I nod and hand him a piece, pulling a lollipop for myself. In my years of studying and writing and taking notes, I know that if somewhere else on my body is moving, focusing is easier. With my mouth occupied with the sugar, my brain is on a roll. Trouble leans in once more, the sugary smell from his mouth fills my nostrils. “You got anything else in that bag of yours? I could use a coke too.” I roll my eyes and smile a bit. “Oh, hush. I have a sugar addiction.” At the sound of our whispers, Mrs. Dustin clears her throat loudly. “Mr. McQuaid, Miss Leiman, is there something you’d like to share with the class?” I shake my head and duck my head back to my notes. McQuaid lifts his chin and smirks at the teacher. “Just Miss Leimans sugar addiction, teach. Probably why she’s so sweet.” My cheeks heat at his comment and I don’t know how to react. My brain berates me for my flustered appearance. He is sixteen, maybe seventeen! You are old enough to drink! Get your head together girl! I keep my head down until the bell rings, no matter how many pokes to the thigh I earn. 

I glance down at my schedule and attempt to find my way around the giant high school. An arm drops itself over my shoulder as I look up to find Trouble staring right back at me. “Can I help you? Need more gum already?” He chuckles a bit and pops his gum. “Nah sweets, my brother and I were wanting to invite you to sit with us for lunch. Unless you’ve got somewhere better to be?” His eyebrows raise at his question and my face heats. “Oh! Uh, no. I don’t have anywhere better to be. I guess I can eat with you guys?” McQuaid smirks around his gum and leads me to a table occupied by another boy who is dressed similarly to trouble. With a steady hand on the small of my back, trouble eases me into my seat. I unpack my bag and come to a realization. “I just realized we haven’t Introduced ourselves! I’m Y/N, I just moved here, and I’m a senior.” Trouble and the other boy smirk at each other. Trouble turns his body to me. “I’m Tom McQuaid. This here’s my big brother Doug. He would've graduated last year, or the year before that, but he just can’t seem to pass classes.” Doug gives a shout of defense, tossing a French fry at his brother, who catches it in his mouth, grinning triumphantly. I roll my eyes and give a small smile to their antics. “So you’re the McQuaid brothers. You’re new here too. And troublemakers from what I’ve heard.” They look at each other and laugh. “Well, sugar, what can we say? It’s much more fun to break the rules than to follow them.” After fishing out my lunch I pull another sucker from my bag, strawberry flavored as opposed to the cotton candy flavored from earlier. “Damn sweets, not gonna share with us? I’m hurt.” I roll my eyes and toss the older boy the bag of sweets. “Leave me the mango flavors. Those are my favorites.” Doug chuckles under his breath and tosses the bag to his brother. Tom rifles through the pouch of candy, and just hands it back to me. “I’ll just take another piece of gum when I’m finished eating.” I look from my salad at his burger and fries. “How can you eat that all the time and still look like that? I’m just looking at it and I think I gained ten pounds.” Tom shakes his head as he gives a once over to my figure. “Nah, you look the same. You look fine the way you are. Promise.” I giggle and play with my fingers in my lap. The line of playing the part and enjoying the attention continues to blur at my embarrassed reaction. I swallow my bite of rabbit food down and smile. “So, McQuaid brothers, tell me a bit about yourselves.” Almost evil smirks cross their faces. “Sweets, lets just say we’re not the kind of guy you take home to mom and dad. You’re too sweet and naive to know guys like us. Sugary thing like you’d get eaten alive with us. Too pure for the dark things we’ve done.” I hear the teasing in Tom’s voice. “You’re making fun of me. I know I’m not the “baddest” out there, but I know about the world. I want to be a  reporter. I’ll appreciate it if you don’t underestimate me.” I look back at my hands. “And if I’m too sweet and naive to be here, to be involved with you, why was I invited to have lunch with you two? I’m sure there are plenty of defectives like yourselves to hang out with.” I move to leave the table to sit anywhere else. A hand latches onto my wrist. I follow the hand up to Tom's face. His eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are twisted into a pout. “Look, sweets, I’m sorry. You seemed lonely and everything. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” I sigh and gently pull my hand from his hold. “I accept your apology.” 

I move to sit back down and hear my beeper go off. I fish it out of my bag and read the message from my editor. Both boys crane their necks to read the message. I shove it back down into my bag in defense, thinking up a quick excuse for the interruption. “Oh, it was my brother. I’ll give him a call later.” I swipe a fry from Doug's plate. “What about you guys. You do anything after school? Besides the Dark stuff of course. What kind of records do you listen to?” Looks I don’t understand continue to pass between them. “Well, Doug here is his own entrepreneur. Me, I’m more of a car guy. I’ve got the blue mustang out there.” My eyes widen. “That one’s yours? She’s a beauty. I’ve got the old yellow mystery machine out there. She’s a great road trip car.” Both boys nod. “Our dads a bit of a hippie. He’d love you, flower power. What music you listen to?” I think for a bit, attempting to decide between my true likes and what a teenager would like. “Well, I’ve always loved Bowie. Ziggy Stardust is an absolute masterpiece, and one of the first records I ever got. Prince is pretty good too, but I love a nice mix of rock and funk. Something with a heavy drum beat I can move to.” They nod along, taking in my answer. The bell rings, signifying the end of the lunch period. 

I begin my journey to my next class, and choose a seat near the middle. Once I watch the class, looking around at the students and everything about them. And just my luck, Tom McQuaid walks in with his gum popping and a smirk painted on his face. As the student body shuffles into their seats, the teacher has us stand right back up. “I am your History teacher for this semester, Mr. Devo. I will be choosing your seats for my class, please let me know if you need to be seated at the front end of the room.” Two kids with glasses raise their hands and they are seated in the first two rows. 

“Anyone else? No? Alright let’s get started. When I point to you, I want to hear your name, your grade, and hmmmm, your favorite record.” He points at several people, pointing at their desks. He points to me pretty early on surprisingly. “Oh! Y/N Leiman, senior, and hmmmm, give me a second. Prince’s Sign ‘O’ The Times. It cost me a bit to get the four disks, but it’s an amazing album.” Mr. Devo nods a bit. “I haven’t heard the entire thing yet, but I do enjoy Prince. Here.” He points to the desk front and center. As if the whole thing was planned, Tom is pointed at next. “Tom McQuaid, teach. Senior like Sweets here, and I like Bowie's Young Americans. If you don’t mind, Sugar here fuels my gum addiction, so if I could sit near her, I’d appreciate it.” Mr. Devo gets a strange look on his face. The journalist in me would describe it as a cross of frustration and possibly… jealousy? But I don’t understand the jealousy part. I shake it off and get myself prepared for class. McQuaid gets sent to the classroom, possibly the farthest seat from me. With a smile, Mr. Devo starts his class.

I walk out the front doors of the school with a slight limp. “I made a mistake today. I can not believe I made the decision to actually wear heels to school. What was I thinking?” Two arms snake around my shoulders. “Well, Flower Power, if you’re hurting so bad, how bout we carry you to our car. We can get you home and drive your car for you.” I look at Doug and roll my eyes. “I’ll be fine. It wouldn’t be the first time I drove barefoot. I appreciate the offer boys, but I should probably head home. See you both tomorrow?” They nod and head to their Mustang. I climb into my mystery machine and kick off my shoes, heading home.

[trashinaglass-archive]

Little Bug

Harry and y/n get pregnant at a young age

Request: Hello! Can you possibly write a Harry imagine where him and the reader have been dating for many years and he gets her pregnant by accident and they kinda freak out cause they are only 20, so they have to tell Harry’s family (cause the reader isn’t close with hers) and at first they are disappointed but of course are supportive. Also maybe a flash forward to when the baby is there and everyone spoiling it! Thank youuu

A/n: Not gonna lie, when I first read this I thought you meant Harry Styles, and I was like why would his family be disappointed cause he’s like 25? But I get it now, I gotcha. Harry Holland boy, he we go.

Four years.

If someone asked you, that was a pretty long time to be with one person. Sure, it was nothing compared to adults who had been married for thirty plus years, but as a young kid, it was a big deal to you.

You couldn’t hold back your squeal of excitement as the doorbell rang, running to the door.

“Hey,” Harry laughed as you threw yourself into his arms, hugging him tightly.

“Happy four years,” you smiled at him.

“And happy anniversary,” he replied, a smile masking your own as he placed a kiss to your lips. “Let’s get out of here.”

. . .

You held Harry’s hand in yours as you walked into the movie theater, moving to stand in the concessions line. The smell of the popcorn hit you hard, an instant wave of nausea rolling through your body. Your jaw clinched as you felt the uneasy feeling in your stomach increase.

“‘Scuse me,” you said quickly as you ran to the bathroom, anything that was in your stomach making an appearance in the toilet. You leaned your head onto your hands as you sat back, lightheaded and drained of all energy you had earlier.

“Y/n?” You heard an unfamiliar voice ask, a gentle hand touching your back. “You’re boyfriend asked me to check on you. Are you alright?”

“I don’t know,” you said softly, thinking about what just happened as the nausea began to fade. “It was like the smell of the popcorn made me sick.”

“I don’t mean to pry or be rude,” the lady began. “But have you two had sex recently?” Your heart stopped at the suggestion, understanding what she was hinting at. “When I was pregnant, certain smells made me sick too.”

“I can’t be,” you whispered, tears beginning to well in your eyes.

“I would check,” she suggested gently before rummaging through her purse. “Here’s some gum. Do you need help with anything?”

You shook your head as you chewed the gum, welcoming the minty taste. You tried to process the idea of you possibly being pregnant, it was crazy.

You eventually stood up, making your way outside where you found a very concerned boyfriend.

“Are you okay? What happened?” He asked as he saw you.

“The popcorn smell is making me sick,” you told him. “Can you take me to a shop and then we can hang at your place?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Are you okay?”

“As soon as I’m out of here, I’ll be fine,” you told him, nodding your head.

He nodded back, taking your hand and leaving the theater. He stopped at a drugstore, unbuckling his seat belt about the get out. “Can you wait in here while I go in? Please?” You requested.

“Why?” He asked confused.

“Just- please,” you pleaded. He let out a breath, closing his door and watched as you went in the store by yourself. You bought three pregnancy tests along with some ginger ale and candies to cover what you actually bought, asking the cashier to double bag it. You sat back in the car, “ready?” You smiled softly, Harry reciprocating before driving back to his home.

. . .

“What happened?” Dominic asked as you two walked through the door. “Surely the movie isn’t over yet.”

“Yeah, um,” Harry began looking at you unsure if he was suppose to tell them or not. You shrugged motioning that you didn’t care. “Y/n fell sick at the theater so we’re just going to hang here.”

“You alright, darling?” Nikki asked you. You nodded, not really wanting to say anything. “If you need anything, let me know.” She smiled at you, and you felt a little better knowing she cared.

“Yes ma’am,” you replied softly before making your way upstairs, going straight to the bathroom.

“Sick again?” Harry asked as you closed the door.

“Maybe? I don’t know,” you told him. “It might just be another wave of nausea. I’ll meet you in your room when I’m done.” You listened for him to walk away before opening anything.

“Okay. Call if you need anything.”

“Yeah,” you replied quietly, hearing his footsteps walk away, opening a door, and the springs of his bed as he sat on it. You opened the boxes as quickly and quietly as you could, peeing on them and waiting the three minutes. It felt like literal hell waiting for that long. After the time passed, you looked at the tests.

Six bold pink lines.

Three positive tests.

You closed your eyes as you sank to the floor, your head resting on your knees as you tried not to freak out. Tears began to well in your eyes, spilling over the edge as you couldn’t hold them back. You looked up as the bathroom door opened.

“Oh! Sorry! Um,” Paddy stumbled before he realized something wasn’t right, running to Harry’s room to get him. Your eyes squeezed tighter as you heard him approach you.

“Hey- what’s wrong, love?” Harry asked as he crouched in front of you, hands holding the sides of your face, brushing the tears from your eyes.

“Could it be these?” Paddy asked as he noticed the tests on the sink counter. You could hear the uncertainty in his voice- he didn’t know where you stood emotionally and didn’t want to hurt you more than you already looked.

Harry stood up looking at the tests as he took one in his hand, studying it over. “You just took these?” He asked for clarification. You only nodded in response. He sighed, rubbing over his eyes as he tried to process this information. In nine short months, he was going to be a dad.

“Are you going to leave me now?” You asked him, fear obvious in your voice. He looked at you, tears in his own eyes as he reached his hands out to you. He pulled you to your feet, wrapping you in his arms.

“I’m with you for the long run, baby doll,” he said, placing a kiss to the top of your head. Hearing his words, you squeezed him tighter, tears rolling out of your eyes faster. You hadn’t mentioned it, but you knew what would happen when you got home. Your parents weren’t the best, and they weren’t going to have a pregnant girl or her kid in their house. You needed him more than he knew.

“Do we tell them now?” He asked you after you both calmed down, knowing both of your parents needed to know. You nodded, unsure of what else you would do with the new information. Harry guided you downstairs, a hand on your back as you wiped your face, hoping you didn’t look too messed up. Your nerves shot through the roof as you saw the two parents come into view. “Mum? Dad?”

“What’s wrong?” Nikki asked as she saw your faces, probably looking utterly terrified.

“Um,” Harry started, unsure how to say it. He gestured for you to sit on the chair across from his parents, leaning against the armrest beside you. “You know y/n was sick, and I thought it was just a bug or something, but it’s not a bug. Definitely not a bug. Unless you think it’s cute to call it a bug,” he began to ramble, but you interrupted him.

“I’m pregnant,” you said softly. Nikki and Dom’s eye widened at your admission.

“Yeah,” Harry said.

“You’re sure?” Nikki asked, needing the clarification.

“I have three bold yes’s in the bathroom. It’s no sonogram, but what are the chances that three tests will show up that bold falsely?”

“Not much,” Nikki nodded, letting out a sigh. “First thing tomorrow, you need to make an appointment with your doctor.” You nodded your head, showing you understand.

“So you guys aren’t mad?” Harry asked nervously.

“We’re certainly not happy about it, but the deed is done. Another life is involved, and the best we can do is make sure it gets the best care possible,” Dom nodded.

“Have you mentioned it to your parents yet?” Nikki asked, still fixated on you.

“No. I just found out literally, what, fifteen minutes ago?”

“Are they going to be okay with it?” She asked carefully, knowing the troubles you’d been through with them. You shook your head, not looking her in the eye.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they kick me out,” you shrugged, Harry’s hand reaching out to rub your back.

“Well if that happens, you pack your stuff and come here. We’ll take care of you,” Dom assured you.

“Thank you,” you replied with a small smile.

. . .

Like you predicted, after telling your parents of the pregnancy, they kicked you out. Wishing you good luck with the future, they no longer wanted to be apart of it. But that’s okay- the Holland family were the perfect replacement. The place where you and your baby belonged.

The baby arrived after the months passed, a little boy named Tristan Robert Holland. He was born a few weeks early, but he was the most perfect being you had ever laid eyes on. The trials and pain were worth going through to be able to hold your gorgeous boy in your arms.

“Look at that precious bug,” you said in a higher pitched voice, leaning over to planting kisses all over Tristan’s face. He squealed out a laugh. A perfect laugh you’d come to obsess over.

“And wouldn’t he be more precious with this amazing Spider-Man onesie?” Tom asked as he appeared with said onesie. You couldn’t hold back the laugh as Harry let out a scoff. “What? He’s my nephew. I can spoil him with Spider-Man goodies if I want to.”

“I don’t really care what onesie he wears, but look at this bear I found,” Sam chimed in, holding up a teddy bear that was holding onto a golf club. “Definitely going to be on my team.”

“Whatever, mate. He’s my son- of course he’ll want to be on my team,” Harry fought back causing a bicker over whose golf team the baby would be on.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you listened to them looking down at Tristan with a smile on your face. “You’re more well behaved than all of them, aren’t you?” You cooed, Tristan laughing back. “You are!”

“Shut up, y/n,” Harry laughed, sitting next to you. “It’s called living with siblings.”

“Which he won’t have for a long, long time,” you said, the little boy laughing with no idea what you were talking about.

“I don’t know, I think we could do that again,” he joked as he took Tristan in his arms, the baby bouncing on his lap. “I’ll carry the baby this time.”

“Will you?” You laughed, Harry nodding his head yes. “We can probably arrange that then.”

“You guys are fucking weird,” Paddy commented as he walked past you to the kitchen, making you and Harry laugh. You shrugged, it wasn’t exactly untrue.

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Gauze & Sweets (DuckTales):

A/N: I can’t get over the fact Della Duck has finally made an animated appearance after seventy years. It’s blowing my mind days later. 

Summary: They were both wild children in different ways.  

Donald climbed. He climbed fast and hard. Sweat piled to the edge of his bill as his breathless pursuit ensued. He heard her quick pants and equally loud rustling beneath him. Leaves scattered wildly around them. He was three branches above. It wasn’t that he could see but saw the end in sight where the sun shined brightest through the leaves.

His stinging hand readied to grip the second to last branch. It was then his fingers failed him. His fingers scraped the bark and fell flat. Exhaustion was a likely cause, but it being a mindless mishap, a careless miscalculation on his part was even likelier. As a consequence, he was suddenly thrust down by gravity’s hand.

He heard her shout his name in alarm, a frightened shock that shook his core. But as he fell, as his body broke a number of twigs, leaving the leaves scattered and homeless, he couldn’t help but think that she’d be impressed with his personal record, if only for a little bit.

A throbbing pain bit his wrist when he landed. Donald rolled onto his back, and his blurred vision saw a figure swinging down with envious precision. Her arms landed where she wanted them to land. Her hands gripped firmly with envious strength and held where she wanted them to hold. She was like a chipmunk minus the oversized cheeks. It might have felt an hour, but she arrived at his side in less than thirty seconds.

“C’mon Donnie, c’mon,” she put a hand on his shoulder, “tell me where it hurts.”

“It doesn’t hurt!” His wounded pride stung at the corner of his eyes, and he wiped them away hastily, growing more embarrassed with her concern and victory, “I think I bruised my wrist during the fall.”

“Your wrist?” Seeing where he held his wrist tightly to his chest, Della gently pried his other hand away so that she could inspect it. She ignored his burning hisses and sighed in relief, “It looks sprained.”

“Well, it doesn’t feel sprained,” Donald groaned.

“It’s cause you’re a wittle baby,” Della cooed, and she stared behind her where the dirt road leading to Grandma Elvira’s farm was, “Granny won’t be home for a while. We can make it back to the farm and get the First Aid Kit.”

“It’ll work for a sprained wrist?”

“It should.”

With gentleness surprising for a ten year old, she tugged him upwards. They scanned the backyard nervously as they walked past the pig pen and chicken coop, afraid the farm animals would somehow convey their guilt to their grandmother. In the distance the rickety, screen backdoor came into view, and they hurried onward, prepared not to inhale the sweet aroma of Grandma Duck’s weekend apple pies.

“Gus?” Della searched around the kitchen, “Gus, are you here?”

“He went with Granny.” He sat on the floor, staring dejectedly at his swollen wrist, “Granny said something about buying more soap.”

“I thought Aunt Daphne bought her a fancy soap set for her birthday?”

“She hates the fancy stuff,” Donald explained stiffly, “says it irritates her delicate skin.”

“Oh.”

Della went to the kitchen sink. Using a chair, she climbed to the counter and opened the cabinet door. The First Aid Kit was in the right corner and after quaking in delight, she displayed it for his pleasure, but he moaned instead, snapping that he could see it well enough. They needed to beat Grandma. Hopping off the chair she tugged on his hand and pulled them away. Her mind had made up what she was going to do next. Donald could tell based on her curled beak, and as reassuring her presence was, his stomach continued to drop.

Gus’ room was on the far end of the hall, closest to the kitchen. He never locked his bedroom door, never saw a reason to, and Della opened it in a manner that proved this wasn’t the first time she entered without permission.

“Go sit on the bed,” she commanded softly, “I’ll get this ready.”

Although the sharp pain had lessened in the passing minutes, Donald was too tired to bark back a defiant retort. Climbing on Gus’ bed, he winced at the unusual crunchiness underneath the bed sheets. Sitting down, he felt his bottom smush on something soft and squishy, and his feathers paled.

“What’s wrong, Donnie,” Della held the gauze and clip. She sat beside him, heard the unfamiliar crunch, and giggled, “We’re probably sitting on his Crunch bars. He has tons of candy stored in his bed.”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her, “And he shares them with you?” Gus’ gluttony was known near and far, and Donald couldn’t imagine his cousin sharing any food with anyone, no matter how nice he was or how close they were.

“I wish.” She took his hand into hers and began to wrap the gauze. The firmness in which she clasped his hand wasn’t a marvel. She was the physically stronger one after all, as their dad said, but the sudden quietness, the worrisome curl of her bill told him this was new for her.

“How’d you learn?” He pressed away from the pain and stared at her careful maneuvers, “I don’t think Ma taught you how to do this.”

Della shrugged, “Mrs. B taught me when we visited Uncle Scrooge,” and at his incredulous stare, she giggled, “she’s really nice once you stop playing kick me sack in the mansion, or not eat all of the cookies Duckworth baked.”

“He said we could have some.”

“You didn’t even leave me one, Donnie,” she said this softly without any reprimand, but for some reason, a wave of guilt smashed on top of him. He hadn’t meant to eat all of them, but what did they expect? It was triple chocolate cookies.

She worked quickly and was finished in no time. She grabbed the metal clasp and clamped the gauze down, and she smiled proudly at her work, clapping her hands together, “See, as good as new. Just give it a few days, y’know?”

“Wow,” he raised his hand, “this is really tight, but awesome.”

An idea came to him. He hopped off the bed and pulled over the bed sheets. As Della explained a box of uneaten and eaten treats blanketed the bed. He pilfered through them before finding the exact box he knew Gus had in his possession, and handed it to Della, grinning widely at her.

“Wait, that’s for Gus,” and even more suspiciously, “did you poison it?”

“What?” He chuckled, “No, Gus loves these things. Gum-drop, chocolate stacked cookies, and besides, he owes me for the time I covered his chores. Granny doesn’t know.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m paying you back, Dumbdella,” he shook the bag of cookies and watched with satisfaction as her eyes trailed it side to side.

“When you put it like that,” she snatched it from his hands and popped it open, not caring to dust away the crumbs, “we’ll share it and call it a deal, ‘kay?”

“And hide the rest in Grandpa’s workshop,” he talked through a handful of cookies in his mouth, “Gus never goes in there if he can help it.”

“We’ll tell Granny you got hurt feeding the pigs.” She nodded safely, letting the pieces come together as they went along, “It doesn’t hurt to lie, and Granny’s always worrying about you, Donnie.”

“Eh, I got sick that one time, you know.” As his cookies occupied his attention, he didn’t notice her withered look, but this look passed quickly as she resumed gobbling her cookies gleefully.

Another afternoon passed in tranquil giggles as the pair consumed their undeserved snacks in their cousin’s room. Laughter of a special kind flowed freely amongst the ruined bed and its untidy walls, and the pain in Donald’s wrist was but a distant memory.