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softbiker · 4 years

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Pairing: Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader (not Stucky)

Word count: 3k

Warnings: maybe a couple curse words? I don’t remember. Lots of coffee

Summary: Steve is fond of a particular barista. Bucky has a favorite customer. Let’s see where this goes!

A/N: Somewhat inspired by real life events, this is (hopefully) going to turn into a new series! No idea where I’m going with it or how often it will update, but let’s have fun and see where it goes! As always, let me know what you think and thanks for reading <3

It’s July - early morning and already hot - and the door squeaks loudly somewhere over her shoulder as she preps a fresh batch of coffee to brew. She doesn’t look up or turn around, intent on her task, but she calls a distracted “good morning”, along with her coworkers. The humid morning air has left a sticky fog on the windows and doors, on skin and clothes, and it follows them inside, in spite of the air conditioning. She’s already regretting the long-sleeved shirt she plucked from her laundry pile, though it was the only passable shirt she could find and still be in dress code.

“Hey, you got front?” Bea, her supervisor, pipes up over the headset. Her head bobs over the open door of her bar fridge, where she’s counting milk.

With a nod, she turns back around from the brewing machine, putting on her customer service smile as she sees-

“Oh, morning, Steve,” she laughs, her smile blooming genuine. “I barely heard you come in, sorry.”

“No worries,” Steve smiles. His eyes look tired, but she knows hers are as well - it’s 6:30 in the morning and they’re already into their work day. He ducks his head, leaning a hip against the front counter. “I’m quiet, I guess.”

“What can I get for you?” she asks, tapping away at the screen to open her till. “Just the americano with stevia and almond milk?”

Steve chuckles and blushes under the dark stubble on his cheeks, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. It strains the seams of his plain white t-shirt, stretched too tight already across his broad shoulders.

“I’m predictable, huh?” his nose scrunches as he asks, and she drops her eyes back down to the screen in front of her, displaying his order as she rings it up.

“Nothing wrong with that,” she shrugs, pursing her lips in an effort to contain her smile. “Anything else for you?”

“Uh, yeah actually, can I get an iced coffee, too? With a little bit of cream?”

“Sure thing,” with a couple of swipes at the screen she’s got the order rung up. She pushes it through, prompts him to swipe his card, and glances down towards the bar, wondering where her coworkers have suddenly disappeared to.

“Well - I guess I’ll get those ready for you,” she quirks an eyebrow at him as she makes her way down towards the espresso machines, with Steve following along, separated by the counter between them. He watches, her head down, labeling a cup and pulling espresso shots, turning for a stevia packet.

“So,” he clears his throat. “How you been?”

“Oh, you know,” she shrugs. “I’m here - and it’s 6:30. And hot.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughs. “Tell me about it. I’m already sweating.”

“Same here!” Her face disappears as she bends down to dig in the fridge for a tetra of almond milk. “I mean, I really played myself today - wearing long sleeves. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Wow, rookie mistake,” Steve shakes his head.

She slides the americano out at the end of the bar, after adding a cardboard sleeve to protect against the scalding heat of the water. Their eyes meet over the drink, his fingers just slightly brushing hers even as she spins away and grabs the cup for his iced coffee. Conversation lulls; he clears his throat, takes a small sip of the drink and enjoys the slight burn on the tip of his tongue. She’s fast and smooth, never quite looking at him but never turning completely away from him; he’s in the corner of her vision and she’s the center of his. The cream swirls downward into the iced coffee, softening the color and the taste - though Steve has never been a fan of cold coffees, but he knows how Sam takes it.

“Here you go,” she holds out the iced coffee with a polite smile, plucking a straw from the caddy next to her and extending it in her other hand.

“Thank you-” he trips over whether or not to say her name; he wants to say it, and it’s written right there on her apron, offered on the tip of his tongue. He’d like to taste it. But the leap of familiarity scares him, as it has the last two months he’s been coming in here, and he swallows down the letters. Settles for an answering smile.

“Guess I’ll see ya tomorrow?” he half-jokes, coffees in hand, backing towards the door one step at a time. He watches her head bob as she ducks down to grab a rag out of her sanitizing bucket; she wrings it out and wipes down the counter, sparing him a lifted eyebrow, a sly sideways glance.

“Maybe-” she smirks, swiping an already clean spot on the counter before dropping her rag back in the bucket. “I might be off tomorrow.”

“Might be?” Steve’s head quirks to one side. “You don’t know?”

“Well…I asked someone to trade shifts with me so I could have the weekend off…” she sighs and crosses her arms. “But I haven’t heard back from her, so it’s probably not happening.” Her wry smile is accompanied by a one-shouldered shrug. “It’s just as well, though. This place would probably fall apart without me.”

“Oh, definitely,” he chuckles. “So I guess, maybe I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Have a good one, Steve!” she waves as he ducks out the door, bell jingling overhead at his departure. It really is hot today - her cheeks feel warm. Her whole body does, actually; but the cafe is quiet and empty now, the sun just rising over the buildings outside, and she gets a sip of water from the cup she keeps stashed under the front register.

“So how’s your man today?” Bea jokes over the headset. Looking over, she can see Bea’s mirthful expression peeking around the corner from the back of house where she’d been washing whip canisters.

“Yeah, when are you and Steve gonna go out?” Ally’s voice joins in the teasing, innocently sarcastic in her trademark way.

“Come on, guys,” she huffs, glad that neither of them is out front on the floor, where she was unable to hide her smile. “Steve is just a customer. He’s just another nice regular, that’s all.”

“Uh huh. That’s why you giggle every time we bring him up?”

“I do not!”

“Well, you just keep telling yourself that,” Bea smirks, banging through the back of house door with an armload of milk. “But you should know that store is taking bets on when he’ll finally ask you out.”

She chooses not to answer, just rolls her eyes and heads out the front door to set up the patio umbrellas. It’s July, early morning and already hot, but at least there’s a breeze out here - enough to cool the blazing in her cheeks even as she wrestles the umbrellas open to shade the outdoor tables. Her mind drifts away, to Steve’s easy smile and Steve’s breathtaking eyes, and the way he always dropped a dollar or two in the tip jar. Not to mention, the stretch of his white tees across those ridiculous shoulders.

Well, anyway. He is a nice regular. That’s why she enjoys him coming in every day, that’s all.

**********

“She there today?” Sam smirks as he eagerly plunges the straw into his iced coffee, swirling the cream into its depths. He waggles his eyebrows at Steve’s flushed cheeks while he takes the first satisfying sip.

“Yes.” Steve clears his throat, keeping his eyes down on his own drink. They’re sitting in Steve’s office - well, Steve is sitting, safely behind his desk. Sam posts himself in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his feet crossed. He watches his friend’s flustered fluttering behind the desk - Steve shuffles papers, taps on the keyboard of his computer to open his email, moves his coffee to one side of the laptop and then the other.

“Well?” Sam prompts, gleefully swirling his iced coffee, listening to the ice rattle before taking another loud slurp. “You ask her out yet? Give her your number at least?”

Steve scowls up at his buddy over his laptop screen.

“Sam you don’t get it-” he huffs. “This girl…she’s - God, she’s so beautiful, Sam. You know how many guys must hit on her every day? In a town like this?” He shakes his head. “I’d just be another asshole to her; she’d file my number away with all the other guys she’s not gonna call.”

“Whatever, dude,” Sam rolls his eyes. “That’s just an excuse for you to not take a chance on it. You just gonna keep going in there early in the morning and wasting money on coffee you used to brew at home?”

Steve doesn’t dignify that particular dig with a response, instead choosing to take a large swig from his coffee - he had to admit, she made a damn good cup. Simple as it was. But he knew, as many excuses as he made, he was addicted to more than just the espresso; her sweet smile perked him up in the mornings the way caffeine just couldn’t quite cut it.

He’d been going into the cafe at the crack of dawn for at least a month now. Sam practically begged him once to go out for an iced coffee, an early morning at the end of May, and with a sigh he’d agreed, though he complained loudly about wasting money on expensive coffee shop brews when he preferred to make his own in the coffee pot sitting three feet away from his desk.

The bell dinged over the door, the sun already streaming through the windows at the early hour, summer flushing full and bright. Familiar coffee shop sounds and smells carried across the empty cafe as he strolled in, hands in his pockets, taking in the quaint tables and mismatched chairs, an overstuffed sofa invitingly empty in one corner. Cute. He shuffled towards the counter, not really looking, till he heard a voice welcoming him in and-

She turned around from the brewing machine behind her, smiling soft and brilliant, her eyes a 6 am combination of sleepy brightness, caffeine buzzing in her own veins already.

One hit. That’s all it took to get him hooked.

*********

Her shift couldn’t have ended soon enough. The bright sun and gorgeous summer weather had her itching under her apron, aching to get outdoors in spite of the heat. Every few minutes it seemed she turned to the register to check the time, or slipped her phone from her pocket. Never quite time, never quite close enough. Until-

“Okay, if you’ll just wipe down the bar, you’re good to go,” Nat sighs as she ties her apron, looping the strings around her waist and knotting it in the front. Nat usually takes afternoon and evening shifts, so they haven’t gotten to know each other well, but there’s something about the redhead that she both likes and fears.

With a little whoop of joy, she whirls around to her bucket and grabs the rag for the last time (today at least) and wipes away the splashes of syrup, coffee, and milk that have accumulated over the course of her shift. The counter is a little sticky, but a little elbow grease dissolves the tacky syrup puddle, and with a flourish she stows her carton of coconut milk in the fridge under the counter, tosses her rag back in the bucket, and flashes a peace sign to the other baristas on the floor.

“Alright, I’m out you guys!” she calls, already tugging her apron over her head. Her tote bag hangs on a hook in the back of house, and she rolls the apron up into it before stepping over to the computer to clock out.

“Whatcha doin’ this afternoon?” Bea is off now as well, having handed off the keys to Nat, and was tucking her own apron into her backpack, her Juul sticking out of one corner of her mouth.

“Mm. It’s such a beautiful day…” she sighs. “I think I’m going to go read at that new place I like, get a cold brew, maybe sit outside.”

“Leaving this coffee shop and going to another one?” Bea laughs, taking a hit off her vape, a little cloud puffing in front of her face. She’s not supposed to have it inside the building, definitely not supposed to use it inside at least, but the current manager hasn’t quite worked up the nerve to tell her to stop, so she carries on as she pleases.

“Gotta support local business.” She swings her tote bag up on her shoulder, regretting her habit of stuffing it so full that it’s uncomfortably heavy, and then she’s on her way out the door. “See ya later!”

Besides being a proud supporter of local businesses, she’s also totally addicted to the Garage - the other café and pub she frequents whenever she gets the chance. Their cold brew? Smooth and chocolatey. Their patio? Perfectly shaded and comfortable. Their vibe? Grunge-y without being dirty, hipster without being pretentious. She’d loved it from the first moment she stepped inside on her afternoon off, looking for an iced drink and a cozy spot that wasn’t her own home. What she found? A near-perfect coffee shop with amazing sweet potato fries.

“Oh, hey welcome in!”

Well. And there’s that, too.

“Hi, Bucky - how’s it going?” she smiles at the barista and bartender behind the counter, who is currently stocking the pastry case with an assortment of mouthwatering scones. His hair is swept up in its usual bun, and his mechanic’s shirt is tucked into a pair of black jeans, the short sleeves rolled over his biceps to reveal one flesh arm bearing a full sleeve of tattoos, and one gleaming polished prosthetic.

“Oh, it’s going,” he shrugs, a little bashful. He wills his eyes back down the the pastries at hand, though it’s hard with the way she smiles, hands in the back pockets of her shorts as she approaches the counter.

“Been busy today?” she asks, giving the menu a customary glance, though she’s too far gone on their cold brew to ever order anything else.

“Not too bad, no,” he shakes his head, sliding the glass panel behind the pastry case shut and tossing paper box from the bakery in the trash bin. “Little bit of a rush earlier around lunch, but nothing like what you guys get in the mornings.”

“Oof, for your sake I hope not,” she shudders. “The morning rush is wild, you’ve got no idea.”

“Oh, I’ve got some idea, I’ve seen that drive thru line,” he smirks, leaning his elbows on the counter. Unconsciously she takes a step closer, leaning against the other side of the wood, a mere couple of feet between them.

“I’m literally triggered by the words ‘drive thru’,” she says, with an exaggerated eye twitch that makes him laugh.

“Alright, alright, I won’t bring it up again, my bad,” he raises his hands in supplication, an almost prayer, watching her nose wrinkle and rearrange the pattern of the freckles there.

“Well, anyways, can I get a cold brew, please?” she sighs, looking at him under her lashes.

“You got it,” he nods, tapping the counter. “Perfect day for it, too.” They both glance out the wide front windows of the café, where the patio furniture is arranged under a well-shaded awning strung with criss-crossed globe lights. In the midsummer afternoon, it’s a perfect place to be lazy in public, to sip a drink and read, to pretend to be the sort of person who gets to do those things in the middle of the day.

“It is,” she sighs, looking wistfully at the patio.

“You can go on and get a seat,” he lowers his voice as a couple new customers shuffle into the café. “I’ll bring it out to you.”

“Oh, you sure?” She glances around, noticing that he seems to be the only staff member here. Their shop is laughably less busy than hers, able to survive on a single barista for any length of time during the day, but she still doesn’t want to make more work for him. “I don’t mind waiting.”

“Nah, it’s no problem,” he smiles, dimpling his scruffy cheeks. “I’ll have it out in a minute.”

She’s back out the door and at her favorite table; he can see her from his place behind the bar, with her feet tucked up on the sturdy outdoor ottoman, her bag stuffed under her chair and book already cracked open in her lap. She’s not looking at the page, though - the beautiful day seems to distract her, as she lifts her face into the breeze and stretches her legs out further across the ottoman, spreading out to catch even more of the sunlight.

Wanda hip checks him as she breezes through from the kitchen, having come in through the back door.

“Your girl here today?” she teases, raising one brow suggestively. Bucky scowls at her, embarrassed and flustered and a little guilty.

“She’s not my girl, Wanda,” he corrects her. “She’s just a customer.”

“Pretty regular customer,” Wanda shrugs.

“Doesn’t mean anything. We’ve got plenty of regulars.”

“No other regulars that you look at like that.”

He doesn’t respond. Turning his back on her, he takes a straw from the condiment bar and grabs the cup of cold brew he just poured, and stalks around the counter towards the door.

Wanda stands in the kitchen door, a bin full of dirty dishes under her arm, and watches as he crosses the patio, tucking one hair behind his ear and smiling at the sweet girl with the book in her lap. The girl smiles back, squinting in the bright summer sun, and laughs at something Bucky says, while Buck ducks his head and shoves his hands in his front pockets. He lingers, lingers far longer than required for delivering a single cup of cold brew.

Yeah, sure. She’s just a regular, alright.

#steve rogers x reader #bucky x reader #steve x reader #steve x you #steve x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #steve rogers x reader fic #bucky x reader fic #steve rogers imagine #bucky barnes imagine

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niiwa-angel · 3 years

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Plastic Smiles

Hal couldn’t wait for this upcoming weekend. After months of much debate and discussion, Barry had agreed to move to California with him, and they were relocating this Saturday.

Hal was beyond excited to be able to properly show his boyfriend around his home city without worrying about when he had to go home. He knew Barry was also excited, but nervous as well. The blond was hiding it well, always smiling and bubbly when he mentioned the move, but Hal also knew that it was hard for him to leave Central and his family behind.

At the moment, Barry was off visiting his dad one last time before Saturday, and he was bound to be emotional when he came home, so Hal had picked up some pizzas and wings for him when he came home. There wasn’t much left to do, a majority of Barry’s stuff was already packed and had been sent ahead to their condo, all that remained were a few pairs of clothes, his toiletries, and his laptop and charger.

~~~~

“Why can’t I just run there?” Barry grumbled, leaning against Hal’s chest while they sat in the airport waiting lounge.

“Because it would raise too many questions.” Hal reminded him, tugging him closer and kissing his head.

Barry huffed and snuggled closer, Hal feeling his tension in his shoulders. He knew that Barry was not looking forward to the four hour flight at all, so he had made sure to pack a variety of snacks and had downloaded a couple of funny movies Barry liked so that they had something to do.

Hal pulled Barry to his feet when their flight was called to board, feeling his boyfriend tremble when they had their tickets scanned and were waved aboard by the stewardess. Hal guided him to their seats, knowing that they had an entire row to themselves, courtesy of a brilliant idea on Bruce’s part, that having an extra seat might give Barry more room to breathe.

The stewardess started on the safety brief, making Barry close his eyes tight and start shaking harder. Hal shrugged off his jacket and tucked it around the blonds shoulders, taking his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Remember, this is the safest way to travel.” Hal reminded him, hoping Barry didn’t throw up on the flight.

“Shut. Up.” Barry hissed through clenched teeth, his eyes shut tight.

Nodding his understanding, Hal kept holding his hand while the plane started moving. When they tilted back for lift off, Barry squeezed his hand so tightly Hal felt his bones grind together, the blond whimpering and shaking as the plane bounced in the air.

When they got to their desired altitude, Hal grabbed his laptop and fired up one of the movies he had bought as a distraction. From there, there wasn’t much Hal could do other than wait for the flight to land.

~~~~

It had crossed Hal’s mind to carry his boyfriend over the threshold when they got to their new shared accommodations, but he figured that after a nerve wracking flight, Barry wouldn’t be too keen on being picked up.

The condo currently looked like only Hal lived there, Barry’s things still in boxes in the living room. The couch was draped with a few throw blankets, and the sliding glass door leading to the garden cast a square of waning sunlight on the hardwood floor.

“Do you wanna just order in?” Hal asked while Barry toed off his shoes.

“I guess.” Barry agreed, holding up his phone and waving it. “I just have to call Iris first and let her know I’m still alive.”

The blond hurried off towards the bedroom to call his adopted sister. Hal leaned against the counter of the kitchen and started looking up delivery services near them, mentally flagging a sushi joint and a mongolian grill that would deliver to them.

~~~~

The pair sat at their kitchen table, a banquet platter of sushi in the center of the table between them. Hal was almost completely mesmerized by the sunshine lighting up Barry’s blond hair and reflecting off his blue eyes while he looked out the window. The only thing distracting him from his boyfriend's perfection was his full plate.

“Do you not like the sushi?” Hal asked, snapping him out of his daze.

“No, no it’s good. I’m just not that hungry.” Barry explained, dragging his attention away from the window.

Hal froze, waiting for the punchline. Barry was always hungry, it was unheard of for him to turn down food unless he was really sick.

“Are you feeling alright?” Hal asked, looking him over.

“I’m fine.” Barry waved him off. “It’s just left over nerves from the flight and the move.”

He wasn’t fully convinced, but he let the subject drop. He knew Barry had really hated the flight, and had been anxious about it for a while, but he had also never heard of him getting stress sick. He pondered it while he finished his own meal, trailing Barry when he stood up and packaged the remainder of his sushi and what was left on the platter.

When the supper dishes were washed, dried, and put away, Hal wrapped his arms around Barry’s waist and pulled him until his back was pressed against his chest. The blond relaxed against him, shifting so they were swaying a little. Hal pressed a few kisses into Barry’s neck, feeling his pulse on his lips.

“Ya’know, we’re only a five minute walk from the beach. What do you say to walking down and watching the sunset?” He asked.

“Mmm, maybe tomorrow.” Barry hummed, “I just wanna go to sleep right now.”

Hal nodded, kissing Barry’s neck again and pushing them towards the bedroom. He was really looking forward to taking his boyfriend down to the shore and cuddling while they watched the sun sink into the sea, but he also knew Barry was tired. Plus, now that Barry lived here, they could do that anytime they wanted, the sun wasn’t going to leave anytime soon.

The pair brushed their teeth, changed into their pajamas, and crawled into bed. After some shifting and getting comfortable, they settled in with Barry resting his head and hand on Hal’s chest, tracing circles with his finger while Hal dozed off.

~~~~

Hal woke up in an empty bed, the other side of the mattress cold. For a moment, he forgot Barry had even moved in, but when he remembered, he got up and went in search of him. When he found him, the blond was stretched out on the couch, sleeping. Not really sure why his boyfriend was sleeping on the sofa when there was a perfectly comfortable bed in their room, Hal started making coffee.

Maybe Barry had woken up at night, been unable to get back to sleep, and had gone to the living room so he didn’t bother Hal. Perhaps he had gotten up to grab something, sat down for a moment, and fallen asleep. Or, Hal pondered, he was suffering from Jetlag, Missouri was in a different Timezone than California, so he might have just been following the routine his body was used to.

Not wanting to wake Barry up, he took his coffee out to the patio to watch the sunrise. It was a brisk morning and the cool air made Hal shiver as he stepped outside, while it made the hair on his arms stand up, Hal enjoyed it, it made his hot coffee feel that much more satisfying. After a half hour, he heard the sliding door open and felt Barry drape himself over Hal’s shoulder, kissing his cheek and playfully trying to steal his mug.

“Good morning Handsome.” Barry mumbled.

Hal moved his cup out of his reach but he returned the kiss. He reached around and pulled Barry until he was sitting in his lap.

“Good morning.” He returned. “Why did you sleep on the couch?”

‘Mmm.” Barry hummed, “I got too hot.”

Hal was taken aback, their bedroom was one of the coolest rooms in the condo, aside from the bathroom. The rest of the condo was also air-conditioned, so overall, their home wasn’t overly hot, it didn’t make much sense that he would get overheated.

“You got too hot?” He clarified, making Barry nod.

“Yeah. I think it was just because you were pressed right up against me.” He explained. “It just got to be too much, so I went to crash on the couch.”

“...Okay.” Hal said slowly.

That wasn’t really unbelievable, he knew through previous relationships that he ran hot when he slept. If he and Barry had been cuddling while they slept, it was reasonable to state that Barry had really just gotten too hot and had gone somewhere cooler to sleep.

“Oh my god, how are you sitting out here?” Barry muttered, climbing off Hal’s lap and finding his own seat in the shade.

“What? Too cold?” Hal asked.

Barry sent him a look of disbelief, shaking his head.

“It’s fucking hot out here.” He moaned, pressing his palms into his eyes.

“Oh come on! It’s only, like, eighty-five degrees out here.” Hal acclaimed.

“That’s hot!” He cried.

Hal laughed, standing up with his mug in hand, going to get a refill of coffee and offering a cup to Barry.

“Whatever. Do you want a cup of caffeine?” He asked.

“Yes please.” Barry said.

Hal smiled while he went back inside, grabbing another mug out of the cupboard. He filled his own mug with coffee, adding a spoonful of sugar and a small splash of milk. He filled Barry’s with tea, adding two spoonfuls of sugar and a splash of French Vanilla Coffee Mate.

He had to use his ring to open the door again for himself, and behind him when he stepped through it. He set both mugs on the patio table, turning to his boyfriend to invite him over.

Barry looked a lot different than he had when Hal had left for the kitchen. He was sitting hunched over, with his hands clutching the sides of his head. Hal couldn’t see his face, but the back of his neck was flushed and his hands were shaky.

“Bear?” Hal asked, “Straw-Barry, are you okay?”

“Hmm?” The blond hummed.

“Are you okay?” Hal asked again.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good, just a little warm.” He muttered.

He stood up on wobbly legs, creeping over like a newborn fawn to the patio table for his tea. Hal watched him while he took a sip, he could now see that he was incredibly red in the face and he looked unfocused.

“I’m going to get you a glass of water.”Hal said, hurrying to the kitchen.

He had just filled the glass from the dispenser when he heard a heart-wrenching thud from outside. Slamming the cup down on the counter, he rushed to the patio door.

Barry was huddled on the floor, clearly having fallen. Hal threw the door open and rushed to his side, kneeling beside him to check on him. Barry was, blessedly, breathing, and there was no blood around him. While he was checking him over, Barry’s eyes fluttered under the lids and he started tilting his head and moaning.

Having lived in California for the majority of his life, Hal quickly recognized the signs of heat exhaustion in his boyfriend. Cradling him carefully, Hal lifted him up and carried him inside. When he laid him on the couch, Barry’s eyes had opened and he was looking around, confused. Hal pushed him down when he tried to sit up, wiping his sweat-soaked forehead with his hand.

“Stay here, I’m going to go get some water for you.” Hal ordered.

He retrieved the half-full glass from the counter, folding a clean tea towel and throwing it into the freezer. He rushed back to the sofa, wrapping an arm under his shoulder, helping him to sit up and take a sip of the cool water.

He made Barry slowly sip down the half glass of water, leaving briefly to refill it and swipe the now cool towel from the freezer. He folded the towel and placed it on Barry’s forehead, having him sip down some more water. By now, he was confident that Barry could sit up by himself, Hal left for the bathroom to draw a cool bath.

He only filled the tub up halfway, swishing his hand around in it to make sure that the temperature wasn’t too cold to handle. He went back to the living room, grabbing Barry under the arms and hoisting him to his feet, assisting him to the bathroom. He helped Barry peel his sweat soaked sleep shirt off, tugging his pajama pants down and step out of them.

He had Barry sit in the tub, sloshing the water to make it wash over the parts of his skin not in the bath. Hal could feel Barry’s skin start to cool down under his hands and he stopped shivering.

“Thank you.” Barry whispered.

“Of course.” Hal replied, handing him a towel as he climbed out of the tub.

Convinced that Barry wasn’t about to fall down without Hal there to hold him up, he went to the living room to tidy up. He brought the coffee mugs in from the patio, placing them on the coffee table to come back for them later. Even though their condo was cool enough inside, Hal turned up the AC and shut the blinds so Barry could come back to the living room and rest.

When all that was said and done, Hal hurried back to their bed room for something to give to Barry to wear. Given that most of his things were still packed in boxes, the quickest things on hand were what he had brought in his suitcase, which wasn’t much at all. If it had been solely his decision, he would just have the blond be naked, but Barry was far too modest for his own good so Hal grabbed a clean pair of boxers and took them to the bathroom.

His boyfriend was much the same as when he had left him, wrapped in a towel and sitting on the closed toilet lid with his head down, he looked positively miserable. Slowing his movements down so he didn’t overwhelm him, Hal carefully took Barry’s chin between his thumb and pointer finger, tilting his head up until Barry was looking at him. He looked even more dejected once Hal could see his face, his mouth was set in a sad pout, his eyes were glistening with tears, and his cheeks were still tinted pink in a feverish way and it made Hal’s heart twist.

“Hey Beautiful.” Hal whispered, “How’re ya feeling?”

Barry sniffled quietly and wiped the back of his hand under his nose.

“Better.”

His voice was still soft and weak, that one word sounding like he had put his entire heart and soul into saying it outloud.

“Okay, I brought you something to put on, and then maybe we can go watch some of that new Star Trek series you like, how does that sound?” Hal asked.

In response, the pilot got a small nod and a shaky smile, a fleeting thing that looked like it took all of Barry’s energy just to produce.

“Okay, hang tight Love.”

As he went to help Barry stand, he noticed that he was still wet from the bath. Not soaked, but not dry enough to comfortably sit and watch T.V. Hal knew he needed to fix that before he could get Barry somewhere more comfortable, so he slid an arm under his armpits and lifted him up, he used his free hand to pat Barry dry with the towel, employing all the tenderness usually reserved for newborn kittens.

When he was dried off, Hal made him grab onto his shoulders so he could keep himself upright while he knelt to help Barry step into his boxers. Tugging Barry into a hug, Hal rubbed his back and ran his fingers through his sweaty hair. He had already made the decision that Barry wasn’t walking anywhere for a while, not even to the couch, so he hoisted him up and started walking to the living room with Barry’s perfect nose tucked into his neck.

He sat down on the couch with Barry in his lap, grabbing the remote with his power ring so he could queue up an episode of Star Trek for them to watch. As soon as he heard the intro, Barry shifted and climbed off him, getting comfy beside him with his head resting against his shoulder. Hal wrapped an arm around his bare shoulders and gave him a kiss on the crown.

“Doin alright?” He whispered.

“Yeah, sorry about that. It never gets that hot in Missouri and it shocked me.” Barry whispered back, “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I just need some time to adjust.”

That made sense, in Hal's mind at least. Barry had been born and raised in the midwest, he had grown up with snow storms and sweaters, hot drinks and winter boots. Even in the summer, it had probably never gotten as hot as it currently was outside, so Barry had no natural defenses to the heat yet. Fortunately, Hal knew that the man was strong as hell, given time to adjust to the climate, things would get better.

~~~~

Six weeks later, things had not gotten better, in fact, they had gotten far worse. Contrary to Barry’s claim that he would adjust with time, he hadn’t, and Hal was stuck watching him get sicker and sicker.

While at first they could be brushed off, the changes were now impossible to ignore. While he had always been skinny, Barry had also been strong as well, now he was frail and weak. He was shaking constantly, not with passion or pent up energy but like he could topple over at any minute, and he was always exhausted. Given how sick he actually was from the heat, he could rarely sleep and never was in bed with Hal, always on the couch, alone.

Because of how hot he was all the time, he had started to avoid any physical contact of any kind, the closest he could get without feeling like he was burning was to brush his hands against his boyfriends, on a good day, they would hold hands, but those were becoming farther and farther between. Hal suspected that the lack of affection was hurting Barry more than anything else, given that he had always been touchy, even before they were dating. To add salt to the wound, he could barely be the Flash anymore. He could hardly walk in the California heat, running was out of the question, and given that he couldn’t stand without trembling, he was no longer fit for duty.

Of course, when Hal had asked him about it, Barry had painted on a fake smile and played the optimist. He was still insisting that he would get better, he just needed to get himself sorted out, that everything would work itself out, just like he had said a month and a half prior. But Hal wasn’t so convinced anymore, Barry had lost a lot of weight and his clothes were starting to hang off him in ways they hadn’t before, and he was miserable.

Though he tried to hide it, Hal knew, he could see that the plastic smile Barry put on was getting harder to maintain, he could hear him crying quietly to himself when he was alone in the shower or on the couch at night and his voice sounded wobbly whenever he spoke to his sister or dad over the phone about his new residence. He suspected that the only reason Barry hadn’t voiced how awful he felt was because Hal had pushed California hard, bringing up the benefits of living in a blue state in a blue city, with all the perks that brought to them, he didn’t doubt that Barry was keeping silent because he thought it would make Hal happy.

Hal couldn’t stand to see Barry so miserable, he knew he needed to act fast or there could be irreversible damage done to his physical and mental well being. Which brought him to the present, in a crowded bar, stuffed into a corner booth with Oliver and Guy. He had sent them both an SOS text, briefly explaining the situation and begging them to meet up with him to give him advice, and here they were.

“So,” Guy drawled, “What didja fuck up this time?”

Normally, Hal would have been frustrated with Guy’s blunt ‘never beat around the bush’ conversation style, but tonight he was grateful for it. He felt like he was running out of time, or like water was slipping through his fingers.

“Barry’s sick. Really sick.” Hal answered, “He’s been sick for a while and I don’t know what to do.”

“From the heat, right?” Ollie piped up.

Hal frowned, looking at his best friend quizzically. He hadn’t told them everything over the text he had sent and Barry didn’t really like Oliver, so he wasn’t sure how he knew what was making Barry sick. Ollie picked up on his confusion, and answered the unasked question.

“Dinah and Barry talk a lot, she told me that he’s been suffering from the heat.”

“Whatever.” Guy grumbled, waving the archer off. “Why did you ask us here?”

“Because I need advice! I don’t know what to do, Barry’s gotten so sick recently that I’m scared to leave him by himself, his powers are acting up, and he’s so depressed!” Hal rushed out, “I don’t know what to do, he’s suffering and I can’t do anything.”

“Yeah, right.” Guy scoffed, taking a sip of his drink.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Ollie snapped, angry on Hal’s behalf.

Guy rolled his eyes, looking at the pair like they were idiots. When it was clear that they really weren’t on the same page, he scoffed again and shifted to glare at them while he lectured.

“You can do something, you moron, you can take him home. He’s obviously not cut out for the desert heat, whatever, he gave it the ol’ college try. He’s made sacrifices for you by coming all the way out here and leaving his family behind, now it’s time for you to grow a pair and do the same for him.”

“I- I don’t know if that would work Gardener.” Hal attempted.

“Whatdaya mean ‘it wouldn’t work’?” Guy spat, “Listen you dumb fuck, you don’t deserve Barry, he is too good for you. I know it, you know it, this blond moron knows it, everyone who has ever met the pair of you knows it. The only one who hasn’t figured out that Barry deserves better than you is Barry, so for the love of God man, you need to keep him from figuring it out!

“He loves you! For reasons I cannot understand, he loves you and you know it. That’s why you pushed so hard to bring him here, even when he had the most to leave behind. You know Barry would jump through hoops for you, so you had him move to the middle of the fucken desert.”

“Hey, he wanted to come!” Hal defended.

“No he fucking didn’t, he wanted to be with you! He doesn’t care about California, he cares about you and he’s scared you’re going to pull the same disappearing act on him that you’ve pulled on every other poor bastard you’ve dated so he moved to keep you happy.” Guy snarled.

“I wouldn’t just ditch Barry!” Hal snapped, responding with equal hostility. “I’m more than willing to admit that I’ve done some pretty shitty things and put some people through hell, but I’m in therapy, I started sorting through those issues before Barry and I became an item!”

“Then why did you drag him out here? You have no friends here, the only family you’ve got, you don’t talk to, at best you’ve got Coast Uni, but you’ve been done school for years now. From every standpoint, it would have made more sense for you to move to Central, Barry has his sister and his Dad, he’s exclusive to Central unless he’s with the league, you just fuck off across the galaxy!” Guy argued, “But you begged him to come to your home city because you’re a prideful son of a bitch who's watching the man he loves decay in front of him, and you know how to fix it but you won’t, for reasons I don’t think even you understand!”

Hal sputtered, grampling for any defense for himself. He knew he must have looked like a fish out of water, and he knew he didn’t have a defence for himself. Barry was a people-pleaser, always had been and Hal knew it, he had known that Barry would come to California and now he was staying even though it was killing him.

“Look man, for what it’s worth, I know you didn’t plan on hurting Barry, I know that he’s pretty much the only reason you’re a half-functional human being.” Guy offered, “And listen, you can fix this! If you go and say that you want to take him back to Central, you’ll be his personal hero, his sister will be relieved that he’s back, he’ll be able to see his dad again. Fuck, in ten years when you two have your two point five kids, a dog, and a picket fence, this can just be a really funny story.”

Hal nodded, knowing that Guy was right. He was either going to take Barry somewhere with a more accommodating climate for him, or he was going to lose him, either because he got so sick that he could not recover or because their relationship would fall apart from the stress. He had come to these men for advice, it was obvious what that advice was, so now he needed to figure out the practical end; how he was going to get Barry back home.

His boyfriend was stubborn, so much so that he was surprised that he didn’t have a Green Lantern ring of his own, admitting that he was struggling was hard for him. Still, Barry was getting sick, his powers were acting up, and he needed to be back in a climate he was accustomed to. Of course, that wouldn’t be easy, they would have to break their lease and find a new place in Central because Barry had gotten rid of his, not only that, but Barry would need to get his job back at the CCPD. None of that would be easy, but he hoped that it wouldn’t be too hard. He would talk to Bruce and Iris later, see if either of them could help him out in some way, but for the moment, he bid his friends adieu, paid his tab, and headed home to Barry.

~~~~

The blond was sleeping on the couch when Hal got home, his arm dangling over the side and a throw pillow under his head. The guilt Hal had felt earlier tripled while he looked over his sleeping boyfriend, dressed in a tank top he’d stolen from Hal and a pair of boxers. He didn’t look completely comfortable, just slightly more at peace while he slept.

Even though it was even later in Gotham than it was here, Hal knew he needed to start putting his plan in action sooner rather than later. First, He gently lifted Barry up off the couch and carried him to the bed, pulling back the covers with his ring and laying the forensic scientist on the mattress. Then he went back to the living room, stepped out onto the balcony and called Bruce.

“What do you want?” Bruce asked, picking up after the first ring.

“I fucked up.” Hal admitted, careful to keep his voice down.

There was silence on the other line for a moment, dragging on for so long that Hal checked to make sure he hadn’t been hung up on.

“So?” Bruce asked, “That isn’t new for you.”

God, Hal hated his boyfriends best friend sometimes. Bruce had gotten along with Barry from the start but had hated Hal since the first second they met. While he and Barry had grown closer, Bruce had hated him more, rolling his eyes and being slightly cheeky to him whenever they had to speak. When he had started dating Barry, he had called a truce with the Dark Knight of Gotham for his boyfriends sake, but he doubted that they would ever get along. Still, Hal needed his help.

“I know but this is worse than usual.” He confessed, “Barry’s getting sick, he can’t handle the heat. I want to get him back to Missouri before he gets worse but I need help, I need to convince him to move again and I was hoping you would have some advice.”

There was silence on the other end again, making Hal feel even worse about himself. He had prepared himself for some gloating, knowing that Bruce would probably rub it in his face that he didn’t deserve Barry.

“I wondered if that would happen.”

There was the silence broken, and Hal braced for the verbal dress-down.

“He’s what I can do. I need a safe house in California and I have too many in Missouri.” Bruce began, “I can sell you and Barry one of the houses in exchange for you subletting your condo to me so I can see if I want to buy it.”

That… Was very generous. Incredibly generous and far more than Hal had been expecting.

“That’s… That’s amazing Bruce.” He stammered, “I cannot thank you enough. How much do you want for the house?”

“For anyone else, I wouldn’t go less than three hundred thousand. But, it needs some work done, I haven’t updated that interior since I bought it, and it looks like something out of the nineties.” Bruce said slowly, “And someone was murdered in it before I bought it, which really decreased the value, so I’ll give it to you for one hundred thousand.”

Alright, knowing someone was killed in the house was weird and he could see why it would decrease the value. But a house they owned would be far better than an apartment they could rent, they could redecorate and make renovations, and it was far more private than an apartment building, which was good for their alter-egos.

“Bruce, I cannot thank you enough. I need to talk to Barry about this, but thank you so, so much.” Hal thanked, mentally adding ‘get Bruce a muffin basket’ to his to-do list.

“Just, don’t kill Barry.” Bruce muttered, “A guy like me only gets one best friend in life, and when he’s gone, I don’t get a new one.”

That was sweet, though Hal would never admit it. Apparently Bruce did have a soul, or at the very least, he had borrowed it back from Satan for this phone call exclusively.

“I’ll keep him alive.” He promised, “Have a nice night Bruce.”

He didn’t get a response, just a dial tone as Bruce hung up. He would normally mumble about his lack of manners, but tonight he could only inwardly rejoice while he went back inside. His phone buzzed in his hand, Bruce having sent him a link to view the house, which he emailed to himself so he could show Barry in the morning.

Hal took a quick shower, got into pajamas, kissed Barry on the forehead, and went back to the living room to sleep on the couch. He shifted around for a while to get comfortable, which wasn’t easy on the small sofa, he eventually managed it, willing himself to fall asleep.

~~~~

Hal woke up with a kink in his neck and a sore back but a good feeling in his heart. He hurried through making coffee, logging onto his laptop while he waited for it to brew. As soon as the computer was awake, Hal pulled up his email and clicked on the link leading to pictures of the house Bruce had offered.

It was a nice house, two levels and a basement, lots of windows, a large kitchen/living room/dining room area. There were two bedrooms, the master bedroom, which had an attached bathroom and a spacious walk-in closet, and a smaller room that they could use for a guest room and home office. There was another bathroom across from the smaller bedroom, decked out with a bath/shower, toilet, and a sink with lots of cabinet space under it. And of course, the basement, but it wasn’t finished, it did have a washer and dryer down there though.

The backyard was also nice, the back deck obviously needed some work but it was nice enough. The yard was fenced with a wooden plank wall, attaching to the house with a gate on one side. It was nicer than Hal could have ever hoped for and he hoped Barry would see it the same way. He checked the neighbourhood it was in and saw that it was pretty nice, located close to a library and a community center, with a grocery plaza not even fifteen minutes drive away. It would be an amazing spot for them to live in, and it would be better to own a home than to rent one, now he just needed to wait for Barry to wake up to talk to him about it.

~~~

An hour and a half later, a very sleepy Barry Allen dragged himself into the kitchen. He was still in the clothes he’d been in when Hal had put him to sleep, the stolen tank top and his boxers, his hair was a fly away mess, and his eyes were still cloudy from sleep. It was better rested than he had looked in weeks, not healthy, by a country mile, but it was better nonetheless. His boyfriend shuffled in and rested his head against Hal’s shoulder, linking their fingers together and squeezing his hand. That had been a pretty standard display of affection between them for the majority of their time in California, it was intimate but not so touchy that it was too hot for Barry.

‘Good morning Beautiful.” Hal greeted, kissing him on the head.

“Morning Handsome.” Barry mumbled.

The blond pulled away and set about making himself tea, pouring boiling water into a mug, adding a tea bag, and then poking it with a spoon to make it brew faster. Hal stared, leaning against the counter, watching while his boyfriend moved around the kitchen, making his drink. When Barry bent over to reach the creamer in the fridge, he couldn’t stop himself from ogling his perfect ass.

“You put me in the bed last night.” Barry said, standing up with the creamer in hand.

“I did.” Hal confirmed, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Why?”

Hal sighed into his coffee and put the mug down. He turned to Barry while he added sugar and creamer to his tea.

“Because you’ve been bending over backwards to accommodate me and I haven’t been taking care of you like I should be.” He answered.

“You’ve been taking care of me.” Barry protested, frowning.

“Not like I should have been, not like you deserve.” Hal said.

Barry scowled and crossed his arms, glaring at his tea cup.

“I’m not some helpless baby, I don’t need someone taking care of me.” He muttered, “I’m fine.”

“You are not fine!” Hal snapped, “You’ve been sick for weeks, that is not fine!”

Barry flinched at his tone, his eyes welling up with tears and he closed his eyes against them. He swallowed hard around a lump in his throat and tried to compose himself enough to talk but he wasn’t having much success. Hal noticed he’d been too harsh and cursed in his head, making Barry defensive and weepy wasn’t the right way to start the conversation they needed to have.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound cross.” He apologized, sweeping a hand through his hair. “Shit, Bear I’m sorry. Just, come sit down with me, we need to have a talk.”

Hal took his coffee and brought it over to his laptop on the coffee table, putting his mug down on a coaster and sitting on the couch. Barry stayed in the kitchen for a moment, putting away the sugar and creamer, stirring his tea, and then following Hal to the living room and sitting down on the sofa. He didn’t put his mug down, he held it tightly in both hands with it sitting on his thigh, he wasn’t looking at Hal but he was close enough for a heartfelt conversation and that’s what he wanted, so Hal just started talking.

“So listen, I know that California hasn’t been your cup of tea. I can see you’re sick and I know it’s from the heat.” Hal began.

“If you’re going to break up with me, just do it already, don’t drag it out!” Barry snapped in a teary voice.

Hal paused and mentally reset. Break up? He didn’t want to break up with Barry! He loved Barry!

“Break up? Babe, no no no, I don’t want to break up with you!” He said in a rush. “I love you! I want to spend the rest of my life with you! I don’t want to break up!”

“Well then what do you want?” Barry sobbed, wiping his eyes.

Hal bundled Barry into a quick hug, nothing so long that he would feel too hot, but long enough to be reassuring for him. Barry returned in with one arm, the tears coming hot and fast from both of them. When they broke apart, Hal started to explain what he had discussed with Bruce.

“Straw-Barry, I want to take you home. Back to Central.” Hal explained, “You’re obviously sick, and you’re not getting better.”

“I’m trying!” Barry interrupted, crying hard. “I’m trying to get better, I’m trying to get used to the heat!”

“I know you are! I know that, but Barry, you’re hurting. Badly. Listen, I talked to Bruce last night, he has a safe house in Central he doesn’t want anymore that he’d be willing to sell to us.” He said, “I think we should take it and move you home.”

“But you love Coast City.” Barry protested.

“Not as much as I love you! I don’t care if this damn city burns, as long as you’re safe by my side.” Hal promised, “And right now you’re not safe.”

Barry sniffled, wiping his eyes one at a time, left then right.

“But it’s cold in Central and you hate the cold.” He pointed out.

“I do, I do hate the cold. But I’ll get some warm sweaters, and start drinking hot chocolate, and I have my space heater of a boyfriend to cuddle with. I can put on more clothes to stay warm, you can’t really get any more exposed than naked to stay cool here. Not that I’d have a problem if you want to go around naked all the time.” Hal joked to lighten the mood.

The joke landed and Barry laughed, no fresh tears being shed anymore. He leaned in close and rested his forehead against Hal’s collarbone for a second, then shifted to the back of the couch.

“You’d really come back to Central with me?” He asked, looking up at Hal with big blue eyes that made him melt.

“I would follow you anywhere you go.” Hal whispered.

Both men rested against the sofa, looking at each other with affection. Pushing through his heat exhaustion, Barry reached over and took Hal’s hand, giving it a squeeze.

“Show me this house you and Bruce talked about.” He requested.

“Of course!” Hal agreed, reaching for his laptop.

They spent the morning like that, settled on the couch with the laptop open to the pictures of the house. Hal grabbed a notepad and a pen, both of them discussing paint colours for the rooms, upgrades for the kitchen appliances, and what they wanted to do with the garden. At some point, Barry ordered Uber Eats from Mcdonalds for their breakfast and some drinks from Starbucks, a sugary coffee for Hal and an elaborate iced tea for himself. For the first time in weeks, Barry looked truly hopeful.

~~~~

A month later, Hal woke up in their shared bed in their new house. Barry was cuddled into his side, giving off plenty of warmth to keep them comfortable. From the windows, the early morning sunlight reflected off of the snow and into the couples room.

They had moved all of their things from California to Missouri three weeks prior. They had been greeted by Barry’s joyful adopted family, who had helped them get home from the airport and unpack. Later, they had come over to help with renovations to the house, repainting rooms, setting up appliances and furniture, and cleaning up afterwards, then they had all had pizza and wings together and spent the night laughing and joking together.

Barry had gotten better, his colour was better, he had gained weight, he was bouncy and energetic, able to be The Flash again, and he was smiling. Real smiles this time, not fake, plastic smiles to gloss over how much he was hurting. The couple was able to touch each other again without Barry getting sick, and Hal rejoiced at having their sex life back on track after nearly two months of it being nonexistent.

As for Hal, he had been adjusting to the Missouri winter. He had gotten a heavy winter coat and snow pants, a pair of winter boots, and a set of hat and gloves to wear outside. He and Barry had gone and gotten him winter clothes from the mall, so he wouldn’t be cold when they were hanging out in the house. Barry had also gotten him some heat packs for his boots and gloves to wear when he went outside, which was the best gift he had ever received.

He found that he really liked the snowy winter. He and Barry had made some snowmen in their backyard one Sunday afternoon, then they had made a snow fort and had a snowball fight. Hal really liked watching the snow come down, especially when it was twilight and the streetlights had just come on. He could spend hours in the armchair in front of the window, Barry cuddling with his legs over his lap, each with a cup of hot chocolate, just watching the snow come down.

In his sleep, Barry shifted and hummed, drawing Hal’s attention back to him. The blond was in a warm pair of striped pajamas, with the blankets tucked up to his chin. Hal settled back into bed, wrapping his arms around Barry to leech off his body heat. He would have plenty of time to admire the snow later, for now, he was just going to cuddle.

#Halbarry #Halbarry fanfiction #Barry Allen #The Flash #Hal Jordan #Green Lantern #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Ollie Queen #Green Arrow #Guy Gardener

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imaginetonyandbucky · 4 years

Text

The Buy In

Chapter 10: Epilogue

by @dracusfyre

"I feel like you're going to try to sell me a time share," Bucky said, studying the bland conference room Tony had reserved. It looked like probably every other conference room Bucky had ever been, as if they were all ordered out of the same catalogue; beige walls, carpeted floor that had the feeling of being beige while actually having flecks of red and blue in it, and the tables and chairs with wheels on them so they could be moved easily. Tony had even pulled down a screen and to all appearances, was setting up for a powerpoint presentation.

"It's all about presentation, Mr. Barnes," Tony said. He picked up a clicker and a red dot appeared on Bucky's chest, then started moving around in what Bucky eventually recognized as a heart shape. "Gotta know your audience and what they'll respond to. Too fancy, and they'll be scared off. Not fancy enough, and they'll feel like they're being scammed. A hotel conference room fits neatly inside that middle ground."

"You've put a lot of thought into this," Bucky said. He glanced at the clock, saw that they had a few minute before people were supposed to arrive and dipped his head for a quick kiss.

"Well, yeah," Tony started, but then there was a knock on the door. Tony opened it to see that part of the security detail started bringing in the refreshments for the meeting, coffee and donuts and croissants and other breakfast-style food that people would probably pick at and leave mostly untouched. "Natasha helped," he continued, poking at the refreshments table and rearranging everything slightly. "She's better at that side of things, the headology, as she calls it."

"I can see that." Bucky watched Tony putter. Looked like Tony was nervous, which was kind of adorable. "So you can't even give me a sneak peak at what you're talking about today?"

Tony shook his head. "For right now, you're a potential investor, not my lover."

"Ok, ok," Bucky said. He realized he was following Tony around as he puttered aimlessly and made himself stop. "So I got to see KT today. Brought him his laptop so he could start catching up on homework."

That made Tony stop rearranging the plates and napkins and turn to Bucky with a smile. "Good! So that mean's he is doing well?"

"Yep. Should be out of there soon. Any update on Rumlow?"

Tony's smile turned evil. "From what I hear, he's had a run of bad luck lately, such a shame. He lost his service pistol, which, you know, big no no. And did you know someone stole his patrol car, spray painted it, and left something unmentionable smeared on the seats? Then did the same with his personal car, which was found laying upside down in front of his apartment building?"

With a force of effort Bucky kept his face blank. "Strange."

"Very strange," Tony agreed. "Insurance didn't even pay out, mysteriously enough. Apparently they had dropped his coverage the day before and he hadn't gotten the notice yet."

"Crime in this city is getting really out of hand," Bucky said seriously. "He's lucky it wasn't something worse."

"Oh it will be, give it time."

There was that smug look again that Bucky loved, and he started to sneak another kiss when there was another knock. This time the security guard was escorting people inside, a middle-aged Black couple that looked around cautiously, like they were expecting the conference room to contain something nefarious. Bucky straightened immediately, trying to look professional, and smiled at them as Tony welcomed them inside, calling them by name and offering them a warm handshake. There was a steady stream after that, until the conference room was about half full.

"Hello everyone, let's get started," Tony said, taking a head count and looking at the clock. "All of you are here because you either were recommended by a friend or a family, or I sent you a personal invitation. Thank you for being willing to join me today for this presentation, and please save your questions for the end. As you all know, my name is Tony Stark, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, and in this presentation I'm going to ask you for money." Tony grinned as almost everyone laughed. "Then I'm going to tell you what you're going to get for your money, and then I'm going to explain how you're not even going to notice that your money is gone."

As interested as Bucky was in the presentation, he kept getting distracted by watching Tony effortlessly charm the room, making eye contact with each person and joking just enough to keep people interested without derailing his speech. It was a warmer, more authentic show than what Bucky had seen at the Policeman's Ball and it made Bucky's heart turn over with affection as he watched. KT had been right when he said that the buy-in speech could make you a believer; not just in the astonishing amount of benefits that Tony offered to people who agreed to the buy-in, but because Tony's enthusiasm for the project was contagious.

"So why do you need our money?" One guy interrupted. "If you've got so much of it?"

"Good question," Tony said. He leaned against one of the tables, putting his hands in his pocket and crossing his legs at the ankle. "Yeah, the majority of the start-up money came from me. Since this organization is technically a nonprofit, I get to write it all off of my taxes, the way rich people often do. But I ask for your money because if I paid for all of it, then it would belong to me, wouldn't it? The whole point of this enterprise is to build ownership and equity in the community. You own the health clinic and the child care centers, the retirement homes and the apartment complexes. Not only does it mean you get to decide what to do with them, but it means that you start having a place at the same table that all of the billionaire developers and well-connected real estate moguls do."

"But the stuff about the taxes and stuff, where we just hand it all to you, that's tax fraud, isn't it? Which is illegal?"

"Well, yes, in a way," Tony said honestly. "You avoid paying taxes the same way rich people avoid paying taxes, by finding loopholes in the tax code and driving semi-trucks through them. But also, I'm the criminal, not you. If we get caught, I'm the big bad con artist that scammed honest folks like you out of your hard earned savings. There will be a class action lawsuit after the criminal proceedings, my lawyer will fight hard but not too hard to defend my assets, then they will eventually get divided up among all my victims in the kind of feel-good, good guys win story that is made for Hallmark TV. In the mean time, my job is to help the community fund the type of social welfare projects that the government should be doing but isn't, by taking from people who don't deserve it and giving it to the people that do. Which the government should also be doing but isn't."

"So this is like, socialism," a young woman said in accented English. "Instead of paying the government taxes, we give that money to you, and you like, do all this stuff with it."

"Pretty much. Grassroots socialism with a capitalist veneer. I like to think of it as stone soup, from the kid's story."

"But why?"

"Because it's the right thing to do," Tony said, like it was obvious. Bucky hid his smile in his hand and hoped he didn't look too besotted; he'd sat all the way in the back for a reason. "I don't know else to say it. Why should I have so much when others have so little? I give a lot it away, because there really are so many problems that can be solved by throwing money at them, but some can't. Some need systemic change, which means empowering people, which is what I'm trying to do. That's why it's a buy-in, and not a handout." There was still some obvious reluctance among the group, and Tony's smile turned a little sad. "Look, I get it. You are used to people promising a lot and not delivering. And you think this sounds way too good to be true, right?" No one really answered, but the way they kind of avoided Tony's eyes said a lot. "Let me tell you a story.

"So I've been donating regularly to the free clinic on 17th for a while now. A few years ago, there was a kid volunteering there because he wanted to go to medical school. But he was in a shit position - his parents made too much money to qualify for the grants and needs-based scholarships, but not enough to actually afford tuition or even qualify for good student loans. So the doctor in charge of the clinic emailed me and told me to do something useful with all of the blood money I was getting from Stark Industries, and so I did. I paid for his entire education, and he came back and is currently the head physician at the rehab clinic. So if you want there to be a catch, if you need there to be a catch so that you can believe what I'm telling you, then that's the catch - you have to try to give back at least as much as you were given."

There was a long, thoughtful silence after that, and Tony wisely let it sit for a while instead of trying to fill it with words. "You don't have to answer now," he said after a few moments. "The forms that you would need to fill out for the buy-in are right here," he added, tapping a stack of papers next to him. "Take one with you, and think about it. Any last questions?"

"Yeah, I got one," the young woman said. "I heard you stole Jeff Bezos' car, is that true?"

-------------

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, come find me over at @marveltrumpshate where I will be participating in auctioning off TWO fanfics! One auction is a fic with art (with @massivespacewren) as WrenFyre and the other is a solo fic as Dracusfyre. All the money goes to a good cause of your choosing, so I hope to see you there!

#tony stark #bucky barnes #tony x bucky #winteriron #no powers au

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suitofvibraniumarmor · 3 years

Text

Headstrong

Part Six

Summary: After a health scare in Los Angeles, Haven tries to make amends. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC Word Count: 1865 Warnings: Post-brain injury symptoms, language. A/N: Taglist is open, you can be added to the one for this fic or Buckvember simply by sending an ask. I don’t know a whole lot about how boxing standings work, so just know that any errors are unintentional and everything is for the sake of the story. Happy Reading!

Series Masterlist

GIF found via Google Image Search.

Another concussion, the doctors in Los Angeles had concluded. Haven had indeed taken a risk, going into that fight still suffering symptoms from her head injury after the car accident. The neurologist in the ER gave her a very stern lecture on taking these sort of risks with her life, and ordered off fighting for another month, to allow her head time to heal. Running was fine, as was light weight training, as long as she didn’t push herself, but sparring or another fight was out of the question.

A few days later, Haven woke up in her own bed, feeling awful. It had nothing to do with her physical state, despite the headache still plaguing her. The awful feeling stemmed from a lot of guilt she felt over not telling Bucky sooner. The relief in his expression and carriage had been undeniable when the doctor had told them the diagnosis wasn’t life threatening. After that, he hadn’t spoken to her. Hell, he would hardly even look at her.

Since they returned home the day after the fight, Haven had called Bucky three times, but he hadn’t returned her calls. She couldn’t blame him for that. If her condition had turned out to be worse, a lot of people would have placed blame on him … the fault was all her own.

Meandering down to the kitchen, she drank down a glass of water before pouring herself a cup of coffee. Wes was at the kitchen table on his laptop and bid her a quiet good morning.

“I’ve been thinking,” Wes continued, “that jump off the cliff — was that really a stress-reliever, or was that an impulse-control issue because of brain damage?”

Haven shrugged and sunk to one of the chairs. “Maybe some of both. The doctors said I’ll be fine, though, so no need to worry. I just need to keep an eye on things. Not put so much pressure on myself when fights come up. Take this month to take really heal, all of that.”

Wes went back to his work on the computer for a couple of minutes before interrupting the silence again. “He was really worried about you, you know.”

“Who was?”

“Bucky,” Wes answered, rolling his eyes. “Who else could I mean?”

“The doctor?”

Wes shook his head. “You’re so dumb sometimes. I should have them check your head again. Yes, Bucky was really worried about you. He was angry, but I think it’s only because he was so worried. You know?”

Haven chewed on her bottom lip and chipped away at the fading glaze on her coffee cup. “He won’t return my calls. We’re supposed to start training again tomorrow — the things I can do — and I don’t even know if I have a coach or not. Damn it, I should have told him. I was being so … so …”

“Stubborn,” Wes supplied. “Stubborn would be the word you were looking for. And, by the way, you dragged me into it, thanks. I’m not going to lie for you again. The thing is — never mind that. It’s not my point. My point is, Haven, Bucky was really worried about you. More than I would expect him to be.”

Haven frowned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know there was a limit to which people could worry about other people.”

“I’m being serious so quit being a brat. What’s going on with you and Barnes?”

“Nothing is going on with me and Barnes. I crossed that line with Rum, I’m damn sure not going to cross it again. That was a catastrophe of epic proportions, and, quite frankly, almost cost me my life — and, let’s not even bring my career into it.”

Wes closed his laptop and rubbed his hands into his eyes. “Rum’s an irresponsible, selfish, manipulative asshole. If you ask me, he saw you coming and took advantage of it. Bucky isn’t like that. He wants what’s best for you, he understands you, you guys work well together. He doesn’t train you, he trains with you. Brock was using you to make a name for himself and to take all the credit. Bucky doesn’t do that — he’s here for you.” He leaned back in the chair. “I’ve watched the two of you since he started coming around. There's a tension you both have that goes away when you're together.”

Haven sipped at her coffee but didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Knowing her brother the way she did, she knew he wasn’t telling her to hurry out and date Bucky or ask him out — he simply wanted her to consider Bucky as an option. She reached her fingers up to her lips, remembering their kiss in the ocean.

“Right now, I just need to know if I still have a coach,” she finally commented, getting up to put her coffee cup in the sink, “and if he won’t answer my calls, I’ll just go to him.”

Bucky was running late for Steve and Charlotte’s get-together. He may have already know what they were going to announce, but it was important to him that he be there, especially after the conversation with Steve the previous week. He was trying to be a better friend than he had been after the cancer diagnosis.

“Wallet, phone, keys,” he muttered to himself as he made sure he had each item before opening his apartment door. He didn’t expect Haven to be standing there, hand poised to knock. He took a step back from the surprise. “Haven.”

“Hey,” she greeted, blushing and hesitant, “I’m sorry to barge in on you uninvited and unannounced, but you weren’t answering my phone calls. I know you’re mad, Buck, but I —”

“Listen, I don’t mean to interrupt you, but I’m on my way to an important thing. Kind of a family thing, actually.”

Haven shoved her hands in her pockets. “Oh, right. I’m sorry. I’ll just … well, call me later then. Please.”

She turned to go but Bucky called her name. He closed the apartment door behind him and locked it before motioning in the opposite direction she had been walking.

“You wanna go with me?”

Haven shrugged. “Haven’t I intruded enough for one day?”

“No,” Bucky chuckled, “you haven’t. C’mon. It’ll be okay.”

He held his hand out to her and, after another few seconds of hesitation, Haven took it, following him out of the apartment building and down to his car. She buckled herself into the passenger seat and waited patiently while he got the car started and navigated into traffic.

“So, uh, where are we going, exactly? You said a family thing?”

Bucky checked traffic at a stop sign before crossing the intersection. “More or less. My best friend Steven and his wife Charlotte are making a big announcement today to our close friend group.”

Haven gnawed on her bottom lip, wincing when she hit a sore spot. “Maybe this isn’t the kind of thing you bring … company for.”

“It’ll be fine,” Bucky assured. “How’s your head?”

“Fine,” she nodded. “No problems since we got home. I’m sorry, Coach, that I didn’t tell you about the head stuff to begin with. That wasn’t fair. I was just so ready mentally to get back in the ring, I didn’t care about the risks.”

Bucky drew in a breath. “First of all, how about we drop the coach title unless we’re training or something like that. I know you don’t want to cross personal lines, but we’ve kissed once —”

“And you’ve seen me naked,” Haven couldn’t help but giggle, her own attempt to lighten the situation a little.

Bucky laughed with her, taking his eyes off the road long enough to see her smile. “And I’ve seen you naked, yes. So can we drop the title when we’re not doing boxing things?”

“I’ll try.”

“Fair enough,” he ceded. “Second, yes, you should have told me. I don’t care about it for my sake though, I care about it for yours. I don’t want to see you get hurt. Besides watching you dive off a cliff, not finding out about a potential head injury after you took headshots — that was one of the scariest moments in my life, Haven.” He took an exit off the highway, into a nice neighborhood. “I’m not Rumlow, I won’t use things against you. You don’t have to hide things from me.”

Haven looked out the passenger side window as rows of houses passed them by. “It isn’t easy to trust people after something like that.”

Bucky pulled up to a modest, cozy home. Several cars were already parked in the drive and in front of the house. Haven cleared her throat and unbuckled her seatbelt.

“You’re sure they’re gonna be okay with me being here?” she asked him.

Bucky caressed her cheek with his thumb. “You can trust me, Haven. They’re going to love you.”

From the panic in her expression, Bucky would have expected her hand reaching up to push his away from her, but instead, she held tight to his hand.

“Promise?”

“Which part?”

She swallowed hard. “All of it.”

Maybe it was another risk, but Bucky took it: he pressed a soft kiss to her lips before answering her in a low, husky voice.

“I promise.”

All of Bucky’s friends were welcoming and happy to meet Haven. Though they did ask some questions about the fight and her boxing career, most of the conversation centered around everyday chitchat, which, surprisingly, Haven was grateful for.

When Steve and Charlotte announced they had a baby on the way, the whole friend group was excited, and Haven found herself excited for them, too. Bucky’s smile was quiet, so she nudged him lightly with her elbow.

“Did you know about this?”

Bucky grinned mischievously. “They told me last week. I’m the best friend! Wanna know a secret?” Haven nodded, so Bucky leaned over to whisper in her ear. “If it’s a boy, they're gonna name it James.”

She ignored the shiver down her spine. “Is that a family name?”

Bucky saluted her. “James Buchanan Barnes at your service, Ms. Cleveland.”

“Oh!” Haven giggled, realizing it had never occurred to her that Bucky was a nickname. “Well, that’s an honor.”

“It is,” Bucky returned.

The group returned to chitchat, though this time it was mostly baby-related. Haven felt good, being part of a friend group again where she wasn’t pressured to be a boxing star. Wasn't pressured to be Brock Rumlow’s perfect trophy girlfriend. Wasn’t pressured to be anyone other than herself.

She was standing on Bucky’s left side and, mostly without thinking, she laced her fingers through his. However the prosthetic worked, Bucky’s vibranium fingers curled around hers before his eyes snapped toward her. Haven let go of his hand and apologized.

“I just … I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Bucky took her hand again. “First time anyone’s willingly touched it besides me and the doctors.”

Haven nodded her understanding and pushed her fingers through his again. She re-joined the conversation as though she and Bucky held hands all the time, ignorant of the warm way he stared at her for several more seconds before Steve called for his attention again.

Buckvember: @peace-love-hobbitness @disastersoldierbucky @connie326 @rebekahdawkins @wonder-cole @shynara51

Headstrong: @disastersoldierbucky @captain-s-rogers @amanda-teaches @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @tanelle83 @tellmewhatyouwill @capandbuckylvr @pinknerdpanda @ntlmundy @siggy85 @itsallyscorner @m-blasterrr @just-the-hiddles

#bucky barnes #fanfiction #bucky barnes x ofc #boxer!bucky #buckvember

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seasonofthegeek · 4 years

Text

Sacrifice of Three, Part 1

The lovely @miraculouspaon requested another part of this drabble through ko-fi and I decided to use that story as inspiration for the expanded universe because I feel like it would be such a fun AU to play in with more detail. So this is taking it to the beginning of the story and working to the part in the drabble and beyond. :D

___

“I don’t understand why I continue to receive these meeting invitations. I’m not part of a Fae court; there’s no reason for me to attend a Winter Solstice conference of the supernatural community.” Gabriel dropped the leaflet of cardstock into his assistant’s desk in tray. “Please confirm my absence. Perhaps one of these days those ancient monsters will stop bothering me.”

Nathalie slid the invitation out of her tray with a curt nod. “Very well, sir. I will have to ask that I be excused for the event though. I was chosen as the representative for my pack.”

“You don’t even get along with your pack.”

She shrugged. “I suppose I could fight another member to pass on the invitation but I’d rather not.”

“It’s barbaric.”

“There are only two werewolf packs in the city and the one I chose is the less aggressive of the two. It’s better than the alternative.”

“If you say so.”

“Not all of us can pretend to be human all the time,” she replied, tone even. She ignored the glare cast in her direction as she began to work on his invitation decline. “If I hadn’t sought out one of the packs after I turned, they would’ve come after me eventually. Better to have a choice.”

“Better to be left alone entirely.”

“If that’s an option, which it wasn’t.”

Gabriel clenched his jaw until it made a tight ticking sound. “Fine. I’ll accept the invitation.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Perhaps if I attend, they will stop harassing me.” He turned away from her desk to return to his.

“I wouldn’t call sending an invitation to events a few times a year harassment, but we all have our burdens to bear,” Nathalie replied dryly. “Why the change of heart?”

He stiffened. “If we’re there together, perhaps we won’t lose an entire week of work.”

“Ah, yes. I was hoping I wouldn’t be allowed a vacation.” Nathalie kept her face blank, fighting against the smile she could feel tugging at her lips. “They’ll ask what court you’re representing upon accepting.”

Gabriel sighed and looked back at the large painting of his deceased wife. The portrait had been done in shades of green and gold and had managed to catch a fraction of the beauty of the sun nymph who’d shined down on him for a short time. “The Summer Court, I suppose, though I never really felt right there.”

“It’s possible you’ll be asked about Adrien,” she warned him, pausing in her work.

He turned away from the portrait. “And I’ll tell them he died with his mother.”

“You think it’s wise to lie? Anyone could come here and find him.”

“Then I’ll have to make sure to seem as human and uninteresting as possible, won’t I?” He gave her a wry smile. “Changelings barely register on the supernatural scale. I’m sure my continued requests for attendance are about my son and what he can do for the courts, but I have no intentions of allowing him into that life. Perhaps they’ll be led to believe he takes after me.”

“Anyone who saw him would know that isn’t true.”

“Mmm, well, there’s a reason he stays here most of the time.”

Nathalie shook her head, unsure if Gabriel actually believed his son stayed put in their large home or if he was simply in denial of Adrien’s frequents nighttime walkabouts. “Of course, sir.”

___

Jagged leaned back with a content sigh and licked his blood-stained lips. “Penny, love, you’re as exquisite as ever.”

“And you’re as greedy as ever.” She stood and went to the vanity, shuffling through the mess on the counter to find a clean bandage. “I’m going to have to take a nap at some point to get some energy back.”

“I’ll keep you company, pet. I’d love to have someone pretty and warm like you in my bed.”

Penny laughed as she smoothed the bandage over the wound in her neck. “I’m sure you would, but I’ve got other things to do today.”

He stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. “But I’ll be lonely.”

“Somehow I think you’ll survive. Have you decided about the meeting yet?”

“Didn’t wanna go the first time you asked and haven’t changed my mind.” He let his arm fall languidly off the couch and felt rough scales under his palm. “There’s my good boy. Who’s my favorite dragon?”

“He’s not a dragon.”

“Don’t listen to Penny, mate. She’s all cranky due to blood loss,” Jagged soothed, scratching along the crocodile’s back.

“If you say no to this meeting, you’ll have to go to the next one. Winter Solstice doesn’t sound too bad anyway. And the cabin looks nice.”

“Ah, a cabin. A house made entirely of wood. Exactly the kind of place a vampire wants to find himself in when a bunch of other supes are hanging out and plotting.”

“Stop being a baby.” Penny turned to face him, leaning against the counter. “Are you going or not? You know Arkana will give you hell if she has to go this time too. It will be her third one in a row.”

“Why do they keep requesting us anyway? Our nest isn’t even that big. Why not the uppity vampires near the center of the city?”

“They might be there too. You’re hardly a good representation of the species.”

“I think you used to be nicer,” Jagged pouted. “I should’ve left you as a naive human out in the world.”

“I’m still a human out in the world,” she winked. “Just not nearly as naive. So is that a yes?”

He groaned and Fang made a chuffing sound by his side. “Fine, yes.”

___

“Oi, you lot notice we’re still the only ones here?” Jagged leaned in the doorway of the study and crossed his arms. “This shindig was supposed to start over an hour ago. Where’s everyone else?”

Nathalie looked up from her laptop and blinked. “No one else has arrived?”

“Nah. I’ve been roaming around this place like I’m haunting it and there’s not hide nor hair of anyone. Something doesn’t smell right.” He watched the werewolf sniff gingerly at the air and couldn’t help the wide smile that crossed his face. “Didn’t mean literally, pet.”

She glared at him. “Don’t call me that.”

Gabriel set his own laptop on the coffee table and went to the window. “There is quite a bit of snow. Perhaps it’s slowing the others down.”

“All of them? Seems a little ‘spicious, don’tcha think?”

“Is it getting heavier?” Nathalie joined them by the window and hugged herself. “I believe that’s sleet. I don’t think we’ll be going anywhere ourselves for a while.”

“This day and age and not a phone number or email to be found between us to reach anyone, is there? You ever wonder why the powers that be insist on keeping things so old school?”

“It wouldn’t help even if we had contacts. There’s no service up here. Gabriel and I have been working on a portable backup drive we brought ourselves.”

“Aren’t you two just the ambitious little duo?”

Gabriel ignored the other man’s remark as he stared out the window. “Well, this is certain to cause us trouble. Jagged, I think it would be best if you retreat to one of the guest rooms. I can lock you in for your own safety.”

The vampire visibly bristled as he leaned against the wall. “I’m not an animal, mate. Believe it or not, I can survive being snowed in with you two without ripping your throats out.” He flashed a wide smile that showcased two delicate fangs. “Might be fun though. Besides, if you’re going to lock me up, you should lock up your sweet lil pup too.”

Nathalie scowled at him. “It’s not even close to the full moon. I’m in no danger of transforming here.”

“Wonder if there’s an old tale about this somewhere. A vampire, a werewolf, and a changeling snowed in late at night in the middle of nowhere…” Jagged chuckled to himself. “Who will survive, who will thrive, who will take an eternal dive….”

Gabriel turned away from the window and pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up in agitation. “Please don’t call me that.”

“S’whatcha are, Gabe. Wee little Fae babe who was left to be raised by humans ‘cause he couldn’t cut it in the courts. Nothing to be ashamed of. You got that pretty bride of yours due to your heritage and all. Worked out, didn’t it?”

“Don’t speak of things you don’t understand,” Gabriel warned with a growl.

“Oh, I understand,” Jagged replied with an easy grin. “I met her before you, ya know. Wouldn’t have worked out what with her being one with the sun but she was pretty enough for it to be tempting--”

Nathalie stepped between the men with a put upon sigh. “Since we don’t know how long we’re going to be here, perhaps it would be wise to take stock of our supplies instead of being immature brats. Jagged, did you bring any bagged blood with you?”

“Don’t drink the stuff, pet. I like my blood alive. Besides, usually they have willing donors at these things. Vamps aren’t the only ones who like blood and this was supposed to be a big meeting of the supernatural minds for the Winter Solstice and all that.”

“In other words, you’re unprepared.” She turned to Gabriel. “Do you think we can expect any of the others to make it here before things get too bad?”

“I think they’ve already gone bad unfortunately. I don’t believe anyone could make it in a storm like this. We should’ve left earlier before we got stuck here ourselves.”

Jagged pushed away from the wall. “Well, as much fun as it would be to watch you two moan and groan about our predicament the rest of the night, the cold doesn’t much bother me so I think I’ll be off.”

Nathalie snorted. “You can’t be serious.”

“Course I am. Not all warm blooded like you lot. I can walk right out of here.”

“You’d freeze,” she replied incredulously. “You wouldn’t make it to the nearest town before you froze in place and then the sun would catch you when it finally rose again. Even you have limitations.”

“Let him go. It’d make the stay much more pleasant,” Gabriel remarked. “Would you like to go see what the food situation is like? It’d be best to settle that early.”

“That sounds reasonable,” she agreed, following him towards the kitchen.

“I mean it. I’m leaving,” Jagged called after them. “Not waiting around.” He growled under his breath when he received no reply. He could leave. He could walk right out the door, but Nathalie was probably right. He didn’t have a clue where he was going and if the ground was frozen over, he’d have a hard time burying himself deep enough to keep safe from the rising sun.

He grumbled to himself and dropped down on one of the couches. Flames licked the bricks of the fireplace and he watched them until he fell into a peaceful trance, letting his body shut down little by little to conserve energy. While it was fun to tease Gabriel and Nathalie, the worry that they might be there longer than anticipate nagged at the back of his mind. Better not to waste any energy he could hold onto for the time being.

___

“The bread’s gone stale.” Nathalie stared at her sandwich before taking another bite.

“There isn’t much more to put on it anyway. This was probably the last day we could do sandwiches.” Gabriel bit into his reluctantly and chewed as he reached for a book on the coffee table. “We can probably use the last pieces with some of the soup.”

“Cold soup and stale bread; I feel spoiled.”

“Things must be bad if you’re talking like that.”

“Losing the electricity’s made me cranky,” Nathalie said in way of apology. “I know we’re all making sacrifices.”

“At least you two get to eat,” Jagged whined, draping himself across the couch. “I’m starving. I’ve got bags under my eyes and my skin’s looking all waxy. I hate when my skin looks waxy. Haven’t looked this rough in decades.”

“Perhaps you should’ve left when you threatened to.” Gabriel didn’t look up from his book. “You know where the door is.”

“I can’t go out in this state. I wouldn’t make it to the end of the driveway. This storm’s unnatural. There’s a warlock or something behind it, mark my words.”

“I’ve been wondering about that actually.” Nathalie set her plate down and went to the wall of bookshelves, looking over the titles. “It might not be an accident we’re the only ones stuck here.”

Gabriel closed his book and looked to her across the room. “You really believe someone targeted the three of us?”

“I don’t know why they would. We’re only representatives, not even important members of our groups, but it’s just a feeling.”

“Why’d you have to go and bring that up?” Jagged groaned. “You’ve gone and made me think and now my head hurts.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “See what you can find in those books about the Sacrifice of Three for the Solstice. I can’t believe I’m even considering that being a possibility. And keep it down; I need a nap.”

“Wait, what do you mean the Sacrifice of Three?”

The vampire didn’t reply as his body fell into a chilling stillness.

“He’s been doing that a lot the past day or so,” Nathalie remarked, keeping her voice low. She turned away from the sight and went back to the books. “It can’t be good.”

“He’s trying to conserve his energy, but I agree. We need to keep an eye on him. I don’t think it’d be wise for either of us to be alone with him at any time.” Gabriel set his own plate down and joined her by the bookshelves. “I’ll help you look while there’s still daylight.”

She cast another wary glance at the still vampire. “What if he loses control?”

Gabriel clenched his jaw. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Not if?”

He didn’t respond, instead pulling a book of the shelf to thumb through it.

“What if we’re still here when the full moon hits?” she asked, voice quieter.

“We’ll deal with that as well.”

“I’d kill you both. I can’t control it.”

“Then we better look for a way to get out of here, hmm?” He met her eyes and they shared a look of understanding before she nodded and they continued their search.

Buy me a cherry coke?

#agrestonath #gabriel agreste #nathalie sancoeur #jagged stone #miraculous ladybug

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logical--dreamer · 4 years

Text

The Dark Kingdom Communications

So i don't normally do this type of thing, but i came up with a Modern Cassarian AU idea and decided to make a fic out of it. I'm not the best writer, but i hope you enjoy it!

The Dark Kingdom Communications: Chapter one

‘No, no, no.’ Cassandra cursed as she frantically clicked her mouse on the Wifi icon, praying that it would finally come up.This was not good, she had to submit the application in by five o’clock or she couldn’t for another few months.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “It will be okay, everything will be okay.” She whispered as she let the breath out. She still had time before the deadline, hours in fact, she didn’t have to feel so anxious.The Wi-fi could come back on at any minute, so she didn’t have to worry. She had the day off so all she had to do was wait.

Wait.

She wasn’t a big fan of that word

Normally, she was a really patient person. She was willing to wait in the wings while others took center stage, but the longer she stood in the shadows the more it was expected of her. It felt like her time in the sun had come and passed and she missed it. It felt like someone stole her destiny, but no more. She was done waiting.

She had to wait to apply to the Police Academy until she had a full college education, but now her father dIdn’t have any excuse for her not to join. Honestly, he shouldn’t be surprised that this is what she wanted to do. He was the Captain of the Corona Police Department and from a young age he taught her self-defence, and when she was legal, how to handle firearms. She was confident in her abilities, so why wasn’t he?

She took another deep breath and got out of her swivel chair. This was just her anxiety acting up. “Everything will be fine.” she repeated to herself as she went to her kitchen counter for some coffee. This was going to be a long day.

She grabbed her favorite mug and filled it with the hot beverage before leaning on the counter just staring at the computer. She needed a distraction, something to take her mind off of the internet. She tapped her finger against the mug in her hands and smiled softly.

It was a blue ceramic mug from one of those “Paint your own” places. When it first opened, Raps was quite insistent that they go in and make something for each other. Honestly, she felt bad for what she gave her best friend. Unlike Rapunzel, painting wasn’t her strong suit. She traced the detailed owl her friend had painted with a small smile. It’s a wonder why Raps went for a law degree and didn’t pursue art, she was very talented.

Rapunzel! Maybe the ball of sunshine could distract her? She grabbed her phone and went to her contacts to call her. She licked her lips and shifted her feet as she listened to the ringing only to hear the dreaded voicemail. She hung up and sighed. She forgot, Raps was shadowing her father at his law firm today and wouldn’t be available until later that night.

Cass let out a groan and scrolled through her contacts. She felt a pang of loneliness when she realized how small the list was. She stopped at Fitzherbert’s name before letting out a laugh. She wasn’t that desperate.

She lifted her coffee to her lips and took a small sip as she gazed at the computer again. Maybe it was working again? She walked over, sat her mug and phone next to the laptop, and tried the Wifi button one more time.

Please, please, please...

Nothing.

Fine. If she was going to waste her day anyways might as well get this thing working. She grabbed her phone and dialed the Dark Kingdom Communications helpline.

-----

"Ahuh...ahuh...yeah...okay." Varian nodded as he listened to another "Karen" on the other end of the phone complaining about her computer not turning on. This was the fifth time she called that day and it seemed like every solution he suggested didn't work and she was growing aggravated.

He wasn't the biggest fan of working in customer service. True, he was good at his job and knew what he was talking about, but some of these customers… He worked better in solitude when it was just him, Ruddiger, and his science equipment.

He genuinely wanted to help people, but he had hoped with one of his inventions, not tech support.

He took a big sip from his cheap black coffee and rubbed his tired eyes as he listened to the woman on the other side insult him and the company he worked for.

"Ma'am...ma'am…" he tried but she kept on complaining, "MA'AM!" He called over the phone and that seemed to finally silence her. "Have you checked the plug?" That seemed to offend her as she started in on him again, only to go dead silent. He heard a quiet "oh" on the other side and then a "click" to let him know she hung up. He leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh.

Finally

He closed his eyes, exhausted. It was his own fault for staying up so late, but he had a breakthrough in his invention and he had to test it out! ...which resulted in a total power surge in his building. Thankfully, everyone was asleep and didn't notice him sneak down to the basement of the building to fix the fuse box.

He sat forward and rolled his chair closer to his computer. Fortunately, it was a Friday, and every Friday night he liked to take the night off to order a pizza and watch a movie. It was a way to rest before going to his projects again. He would always invite his neighbor to join him, but she was usually too busy to come.

Oh, Cassandra. She was a beautiful, smart, independent woman who's grayish green gaze made him melt into the floor like a melted ice cream cone. He’s tried to impress her and make her notice him, but he doubted she even knew his name.

He stretched his head around his cubicle to glance at Eugene who was chatting with Lance near the coffee maker. Eugene was the son of the owner of the Dark Kingdom Communications and was the head of marketing. He was the smoothest and most charming man he's ever met and he really admired him. Sometimes he wanted to ask for his help with speaking to Cassandra, but he would always chicken out. Maybe someday he would grow out of being such a coward.

He let out a small groan when he heard a new ringing in his head piece telling him he had another customer waiting for his assistance. He sat back in his chair and pressed the answer button. "Hello…"

"...Dark Kingdom Communications, this is V speaking, how can I help you?" Cass heard over the phone and sighed in relief to finally get rid of that obnoxious hold music.

“Hello, I can’t find the internet” Cass lifted her head from where she set it as she waited for someone to answer.

“Sorry?” V questioned, confusion laced in his voice, causing her to be more irritated than before.

“The Wi-Fi is down and I can’t for the life of me get it back up.” Cass continued, moving her mouse to keep the screen up.

“Oh!” the man on the other line exclaimed in understanding, “Sorry, that was just an odd greeting.” he chuckled, trying to keep a friendly atmosphere on the phone.

“Well, one tends to be a bit frazzled when they had to sit through hold music for twenty minutes when they are on a deadline.” she snapped at the man.

V was quiet for a moment, probably trying to find a way to get things back on topic of her call. She was surprised when she heard a soft chuckle on the other end and him voicing his agreement. “It is pretty bad isn’t it?”

She raised her eyebrow in confusion and nodded slowly even though he couldn’t see her, “Um, yeah….anyways, my internet isn’t working.”

“Right, of course!” V cleared his throat and she heard typing on the other side of the line, “I just need a little information before we begin.”

Cass shifted in her seat, frowning, she didn’t like giving people she didn’t know personal information “What kind of information?” she asked, almost defensively, ready to call whoever was his supervisor for his unprofessionalism.

“Well….I need your name in order to pull up your file and to access your computer to work on fixing the problem.” V said slowly, almost reassuring. She slowly relaxed at his words. She had nothing to be tense about, it was just the tech guy. Why was she feeling so anxious?

“Right.” she licked her lips as she played with the glove on her left hand, “My name is Cassandra, Cassandra Moon.”

Varian froze in his chair at the name. Cassandra, his neighbor, was on the other line. Beautiful, smart and independent Cassie…

“Hello?” Cassandra questioned him on the other line and that seemed to snap him out of his trance and had him get right to work.

“Yes, hi, sorry. I found your file right here.” This was his fault, her internet was down because of his machine. Now she is going to hate him and she will never come over for pizza and movie night...not that she has before, but he kept hoping that she would someday. “Want to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice going up an octave without his consent. He cleared his throat again, pushing the reading glasses, that he always kept on top of his head, down to the tip of his nose.

“Well, like I said before, the WI-FI won't connect to my computer.” Cassandra repeated, the irritation back in her voice. He felt his heart pick up with nerves, he didn’t mean to make her annoyed with him.

“How do you connect to the internet? Do you use a Modem, or your smartphone, or a broadband?” He questioned as he started the program to grant him access to her computer to look for any viruses or malware that might be causing problems for her.

“I use a modem.” She mumbled on the other line.

“Okay, and is the light for the internet doing anything? Is it on? Off? Flickering?” Varian asked, finally getting into the swing of his job. He could freak out about his crush calling later, right now he had a job to do. No matter what, he was going to fix her wifi.

After about an hour of going back and forth of them trying multiple tricks and resetting different things, they finally got her internet connected and running,

Cass looked at the clock and let out a sigh, she was going to make it. “Thank you so much.” she told V, her heart swelled with gratitude. “You have no idea how thankful I am that you were able to fix this.”

V’s breath seemed to hitch at her words before they tumbled out quickly, “n-no problem at all! It’s just part of the job!” his voice seemed to raise again and he cleared his throat. “If you enjoyed the experience, please make sure to take the survey to let us know what you thought.” he suggested for maybe the hundredth time that day.

She smiled as she pulled up her web browser and went to the bookmarked application. “I will….hey, I’m sorry about the way I acted before.”

“It...it’s alright, Cassandra.” He said softly, but she could tell he was smiling. She was happy she was able to make him happy after she was sure he had a rough day full of unreasonable customers. She felt her heart sink, she knew what that was like and she knew she didn’t help with the way she acted earlier.

She was about to say goodbye, when she heard him ask, “What would you rather have?”

“Sorry?” she paused in filling out her application, knitting her eyebrows together.

“For the hold music? What would you rather have?” V asked quickly, taking them back to the beginning of the call once more.

She tapped her finger on her chin as she thought about it. “Something upbeat, but not that annoying techno whatyoucallit that seems to be popular nowadays.” Cass hummed as she considered the question.

“Oh, yeah, I agree. Honestly, in school I was a bit of a theater kid, I feel like something like that would be good hold music.” he said, surprising her with her exact same thought process.

“Yes!” Cass agreed, surprising herself with how enthusiastic her response was. That was a bit uncharacteristic for her especially with someone she just met. Rapunzel was really rubbing off on her. She rubbed her eyes and looked back to her screen. She let her eyes wander over the page to make sure all the information was correct. She smiled in satisfaction, it was ready.

V was silent on his line for a long moment and she thought he hung up before he spoke again, “What about “Oh, What a beautiful Mornin’” from Oklahoma?” He suggested, she once again could hear typing on the other end.

Cass raised an eyebrow, “It’s good...but a bit older. Those who are waiting might not like it.” she grabbed her mug again and took a sip.

She heard V scoff in defense, “It’s a classic! I’ll have you know that I blew the audience away with my version.”

“I’m sure mommy and daddy were so proud.” she mocked in a playful tone, suppressing a smile in her mug.

“Uh...well, my dad was.” V mumbled, the vibe suddenly felt very heavy, “or I hope he was...” he added under his breath.

“Sorry.” Cassandra frowned, things were starting to get too personal for a customer and a tech support guy. She better end it soon.

“It’s alright.” he said, his tone light and happy, surprising her, “What do you think it should be then, since you seem to know so much about music?”

She glanced at her application one more time before hitting the submit and letting out a breath. The weight lifted from her shoulders as she slowly relaxed.

“The Greatest Showman.” she said simply, “The movie was a hit and I doubt anyone would find it irritating to listen to.”

“Yes, but it would also cause a problem.” V said seriously.

“And what problem is that?” She asked with a raised eyebrow

“I'll be forced to sing along each time it comes on.” He said, causing her to let out a laugh.

#rapunzels tangled adventure #tangled #tangled the series #i don't own tangled #cassarian #cassandra #varian #fanfics #rapunzel #The Dark Kingdom Communications #chapter one #eugene fitzherbert #lance strongbow

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nickelkeep · 5 years

Text

Something So Magic

Pairing: Dean/Cas Rating: Teen and Up Word Count: 5200 Warnings: Animal on Animal Violence, very brief in the beginning. On Ao3

With Autumn coming closer, Dean found his evenings dedicated to chopping wood and stocking up for the winter. Sam could have his fancy city living, but Dean preferred living out in the woods, away from people. Only people who truly needed him or his services would venture out to him, and he didn't have to deal with being disappointed by seeing the worst in people.

Dean lifted the ax over his head and brought it down, cleanly splitting the log in twain. Looking over to his pile, he took note that had a few more to do before calling it for the evening, and then he could kick back and read or pull up something on his laptop to watch. As he started to lift the ax over his head to finish the log he started, an unholy caterwaul and the screech of a large bird caught his attention.

Without a second guess, Dean sprinted in the direction of the cry, ax still in hand. The cries of the animal in distress were getting louder and more desperate. Dean skidded to a halt in a small clearing near his home. A large hawk was circling and slashing at a small, malnourished cat. The raptor was able to stun the cat with a sharp wing clip, causing it to tumble back towards a tree.

Before the hawk could go in for the kill, Dean jumped into the clearing, shouting and waving his ax. "Shoo! Get out of here you dumb bird brain!" He chased after the bird, startling it into flight.

Dean cautiously approached the cat. It had been knocked out and was mewling pathetically in its unconscious state. Kicking himself for getting involved, Dean took off his flannel shirt and gently wrapped it around the small black feline, picking it up and gingerly carrying it back to his cabin. Healing this little guy or gal took priority. The wood would still be there tomorrow.

Once inside the cabin, Dean delicately laid the cat down on his workbench. In the better lighting of his home, he could see the damp fur and easily deduce that he was looking at blood. He scrunched up his nose as a sneeze started to build and shook his head. "Damn Allergies. Can you please wait long enough for me to look at this little guy?"

Dean grabbed a clean washcloth, a bowl of warm water and a bottle of one of his mixtures - lemon juice and oregano oil - and set it next to the cat. "Hey, I'm sorry little guy. I know cats don't like water or other shit on their fur, but I need to treat you before I can heal you, ok?" He gently pet the fur at the nape of the cat's neck before dipping the cloth into the warm water.

About halfway through cleaning and treating the wounds, the cat started to stir. It let out a very confused sound meow, causing Dean to chuckle. "I know, right? Last thing you know, you were outside with a big bad bird swooping in over you." The cat turned to look at Dean. "Aren't you a bright little guy? Sorry, I figured that out while cleaning you up." Dean tended to a final spot along the cat's rear leg. "Almost done, and I can get you something to eat."

The cat chirped in response and tilted its head.

"All done." Dean held up a finger and turned his head before sneezing. "Sorry little guy, I'm allergic to cats. But you do need some strength. I'm pretty sure I've got a can of tuna or something around here." Dean wandered over to the kitchen area and looked through his cabinets.

The cat rested it's head on its paws and watched as Dean dug through his rations. "Here we go. One can of tuna. I guess that's a little cliché, but you work with what you've got." Dean opened the can and drained out the excess water. "While we eat, I'm gonna look for a spell to heal you up a little more so you can be on your way, okay?"

"Mrow."

"Oh, you do speak. That's good to know." Dean laughed at himself. "And I'm talking to a cat." He dumped the contents of the can onto a plate and brought it over to the workbench. "Look, I'm not even going to make you move. Full, four-star treatment. Just don't tell your friends." Dean turned and sneezed again. "I would prefer not to sneeze constantly if I can help it." He turned back around to watch as the cat devoured the tuna. "When's the last time you had a good meal, huh?"

The cat purred loudly in response.

"That long, huh? Well, you savor that." Dean gave the cat a quick scratch between the ears and turned to grab some dinner for himself. After fixing himself a bowl of stew and grabbing a couple of books out of his shelves, he sat down at his workbench to eat. The cat finished eating its own food, and sat at the top of the book, looking down as though it were reading the pages along with him. The thought made Dean's heart flutter for a moment. The cat showed no signs of its own magic, so there was no reason to believe that a familiar had stumbled across him, let alone want to bond with him.

Dean paused as he came across the spell he was looking for. "Alright, Tuna Breath." He tapped the other side of the workbench to see if the cat would follow. When it did Dean smiled. "You're a smart cat. I bet someone is missing you something fierce." Dean grabbed the plate and his bowl and took them to the kitchenette. "I'm gonna draw a little circle for you to stand in, and then I'm gonna finish healing up the big injuries, okay?"

The cat tilted its head and meowed, appearing to observe as Dean drew out the casting circle for his spell. "It's been a while since I've had to heal an animal. Most people can stick to the city and do that. People come to see me for special spells." He finished the details and tapped the center of the circle.

When the cat walked over, Dean tilted his own head before shaking it. "Someone has trained you well, little guy." He gently scratched the top of the cat's head before muttering the words to the spell under his breath.

A green light emanated from the lines Dean had drawn. When Dean finished the spell, the light faded and the cat let out a high pitched, happy meow, headbutting Dean's Hand.

"No need to thank me, little guy. You just need to be more careful out there."

"Mrow!"

Dean laughed again before turning his head to sneeze. "Let me double-check those cuts, and then we can get you on your way?"

All of the significant cuts and contusions from the run-in with the hawk had cleared up. "I think now is going to be your best time to make a run for it, little guy." Dean scratched the cat under the chin. "Your fur will blend in nicely with the night, and it'll be harder for the big, mean, birds to catch you."

Dean scooped up the cat and tucked it under his arm before walking towards the door. "I appreciate you keeping me company today, but I need you to go and find your home." The cat squiggled in his arm and tried to escape free from Dean's arms. "Sorry, buddy. You make me sneeze. I can't keep you around." Dean pouted. "Besides, it's clear you've got a family. Don't you know where they are?"

Dean got outside and closed his door behind him before setting the feline down. The cat ran figure eights around Dean's legs. "Nice try, Cat. Tripping me up isn't going to get me to let you back into the house." Dean squatted and pet the cat one more time. "It was nice to have company for the day today." He gently patted the cat's hindquarters. "Be careful, little guy."

The cat slowly padded down the stairs of Dean's cabin before looking back up at him. If Dean didn't know better, he would have sworn that he saw a sadness in the cat's eyes before he turned off and ran away. Dean sighed and headed back into his cabin, hoping to read a chapter or two of his book before heading to bed.

The next morning, Dean was woken up by scratching at his front door. At first, he thought nothing of it, but the sound grew louder and more persistent. He slid out of his bed and moved to the door, looking out and seeing nothing there. But once he opened the door and looked down, his little friend from yesterday had returned, bearing a gift.

"Hello, Cat. What do you have there?" Dean crouched down and took the ball of fluff - a freshly caught rabbit - while the cat scampered in and hopped upon his bed. Dean shot a look from the door to the rabbit to the feline laying on his bed. "What part of allergic, didn't you understand?" Dean asked the cat.

"Mrow."

"Yes, you brought a rabbit. But I can feed myself, thank you." Dean crossed his arms over his chest, slightly embarrassed that he was conversing with a cat.

The cat rolled on his back and stretched, pawing at the air. "Meeeooow."

"Cute isn't going to cut it, mister." Dean sighed. "I'm not in the market for a pet, you know. Big, tough dude like me doesn't need a little fluffball."

"Mrrrrr." The cat had rolled back over and curled up.

"You going to keep sassing me?" Dean crossed into the kitchen and placed the rabbit in the sink before grabbing a large pot.

"Mew."

Dean filled the pot with water and placed it onto the stove, turning the dial to catch the flame. "I'll remember this, Cat." He walked back to his workbench and grabbed a bottle marked eucalyptus oil. "I guess I might as well make it so I can at least breathe in here."

"Meow."

"I'm glad you agree," Dean added a couple of drops of oil and some lemon to the pot of water. "Guess I'll see if I can find a recipe or a spell to keep myself from dying from sneezing too."

After prepping the rabbit, making himself some tea, and grabbing a book of remedies, Dean lounged back in his bed, looking for anything that could help with his allergies for the long haul. He didn't know how long the cat was planning on sticking around, considering it wasn't planning on going anywhere.

At some point, Dean must have dozed off, as he woke up to the cat sitting on his chest and swatting gently at his nose. "My nose is not a wild animal, fluffball."

"Mrow."

"I don't snore, nor if I did, would it sound like an animal in distress." Dean cracked an eye open and saw the cat actually glaring at him. "Okay, so if I was snoring, it's because there's an animal I'm allergic to sitting on my chest."

"Meow." The cat walked down Dean's chest and curled up on his lap.

"You can't even get sassy at that one, Cat." Dean ran his fingers through his hair before sitting up. He started gently stroking the fur down the cat's back, taking notice of how much difference a day had made. "You know, if you're gonna stick around and not go find your family, I get to name you."

The cat turned it's head and looked at Dean.

"Oh, now you're intrigued." Dean looked around the room. "I got it. Déardaoin."

"Mrow." The cat turned around and sat down facing Dean.

"You gonna live here, I get to pick the name." Dean scratched behind Déardaoin's ear, causing him to purr. "Yeah, you'll get used to it. Especially if you want scratches and pets."

Déardaoin batted at Dean's nose pulling a chuckle out of him.

While Dean continued reading his book, Déardaoin curled back upon his chest. At one point, while stretching, Dean was able to catch a good look at the cat's eyes. They were a gorgeous shade of blue that he hadn't noticed previously.

"Hey, pretty boy," Dean pet under Déardaoin's chin, getting him to hold steady long enough to take in the color. While cats could certainly have blue eyes, there was something utterly different about his shade. "Your eyes are so pretty."

"Mew."

"Is that you saying 'Thank you?' Well, you're welcome." Dean closed the book and laid it next to him. "I get the feeling you're not a hundred percent cat, though, are you?"

Déardaoin froze and looked at Dean.

"You aren't. You act too... human." Dean ran his hand down the cat's back. "I mean, maybe I'm just a little crazy, l live out here by myself. I only see other people maybe once every other week. Maybe I'm just hoping you're more than a cat." Dean waited for a reaction. "Maybe you're cursed. That would suck being cursed as a cat. But I say that as being allergic to cats. Imagine being allergic to yourself."

Déardaoin curled back up on Dean's chest.

"Or perhaps you're a familiar." Dean felt the cat tense on his chest. "One that never resonated, so you ran so you wouldn't be forced to? Or you can hide your magic. That would explain why I can't figure it out." Dean sighed.

"I never resonated. I think my mom and dad were embarrassed." Dean gently played with Déardaoin's tail. "Sam hasn't either, but they don't know that. They're dead. So Sam got to miss out on that."

"Mrow?"

"Sorry, Déar." Dean smiled softly. "This is a little crazy and all. Just seeing you yesterday over my book while I was reading made me wonder how much I was missing."

Déardaoin stood up and headbutted Dean before hopping down and jumping up onto the windowsill of an open window. He let out a sad meow before slipping out of the window.

Dean spent the rest of the evening doing his regular routine. He made his dinner, setting aside a small portion for Déardaoin in case he came back, going through his stocks to see what he needed from town, before standing in front of his bookshelves. He was confident at this point that his cat wasn't, in fact, a cat. Nor was the cat in fact his. He could have been anything.

Dean ruled out shifter almost immediately. He had wards set up all over his land to keep away evil and malicious creatures. While not all shifters were wicked, any creature with therianthropy would trigger them. He knew it wasn't a Wampus or a Sith, they couldn't break through the salt lines that he buried around the perimeter. That meant that Déardaoin was either a cursed human or a familiar.

While Dean secretly hoped for the latter, he pulled out a book on curse breaking and climbed back in bed.

xxx

Dean woke up in a rush, looking around his cabin. Sitting at his workbench was a gorgeous man, peacefully watching over him. "Hello, Dean."

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Dean slipped out of his bed and crossed the cabin.

"In a sort."

Dean looked the man up and down. Even in the pale moonlight, he could make out his dark brown hair, and beautiful blue eyes. "What does that mean?"

"It means that you know me."

"I feel like I do," Dean admitted. "Your eyes. I know those eyes."

The man offered a sad smile and nodded.

"Why are you in my home? How did you get in here?" Dean looked around. "I should have been alerted."

"That's because we're not really in your home, Dean." The man stood up and closed the last bit of distance between them. He gently placed two fingers against Dean's temple. "It's more of us being in here. You're dreaming at the moment."

"You can't dream someone you don't know."

"You're doing more than dreaming, Dean. I can't stay here anymore, but I promise to explain as soon as I can." He leaned in and softly kissed Dean on the lips. "Wake up."

xxx

Dean woke up, sitting up and pinching himself. He was actually awake this time. He traced his fingers over his temple then his lips; his dream fresh on his mind. Dean had no clue who the guy in the dream was, he would remember someone that beautiful.

He got out of bed and walked over to the kitchen, grabbing himself a cup of water. The bowl that he had left on the floor with food for Déardaoin was empty, and after he finished his drink, he looked around his small cabin, searching to see if the cat was hiding anywhere.

With no luck searching inside, Dean decided to take a quick look outside. He opened the door and found not only Déardaoin, but a giant of a younger brother squatting down to pet him. "Sam?"

"Hiya, Dean." He stood up and climbed up the stairs, pulling his brother into a bear hug.

"You're here like, a week early."

"Yeah, well, Ellen and Missouri sent me out." Sam let go and walked past Dean into the cabin, followed by Déardaoin. "Also, when did you get a cat? I thought you were allergic?"

"I rescued him from a hawk. He seems to think that means I'm keeping him." Dean crossed his arms and stared down at the cat who let out a quiet meow in response.

"Well, maybe the hawk is what I'm looking for. I'm not entirely sure, and I kinda need your tracking skills. These are your woods, after all." Sam sat on the stool at Dean's workbench.

Dean sat on his bed and faced his brother. "I don't own these woods. I inhabit them. Now tell me, what's going on."

"So get this, Ellen and Bobby caught wind of a clan of familiars that went missing."

"A whole clan?" Dean crossed his arms.

"Yeah. From what Bobby found, the clan was either forced into bonding with members of Abaddon's coven or... worse." Sam shuddered while Dean shot a quick glance at Déardaoin.

"Okay, so they're not all accounted for?"

Sam shook his head. "Missing four to be exact. Ellen and Missouri tracked them here. Probably ‘cause you keep these woods safe."

"I mean, Ellen is the best divining witch I've ever met." Dean shrugged. "I can track, and I can heal. I'll help. But I have a feeling that there's someone else who can help us more."

"Who? Bobby's on his way back, and we want to get these four safe before they're found."

Dean looked down at Déardaoin. "Is that where you went last night? To check on your friends?"

"Meow."

"Dean, that's a cat." Sam shot his brother a bitchface.

"Mrow."

"Stop sassing, Déardaoin, let's go." Dean pointed at the door.

Sam opened the door and let Déardaoin out. He looked at Dean before following. "Are you sure he's one of them?"

"I was like fifty percent sure that he was a familiar last night. Now I'm like ninety percent after hearing about this situation with an attacked clan."

The two brothers stepped outside to see the cat waiting patiently at the bottom of the steps for them. Sam looked at Dean, surprise barely contained while Dean shrugged and gestured to follow. The group trudged through the forest, heading towards an abandoned thicket that Dean was familiar with.

"This would be a perfect place to hide. It used to be a deer grove before they moved on."

"Mrow," Déardaoin called before stopping, causing the two brothers to stay in place. The cat moved forward a couple of steps, a blue light enveloping him before a familiar-to-Dean man, wearing black slacks with a white shirt and black waistcoat, stood in his place.

Dean's jaw dropped. "You?"

"Hello, Dean." Déardaoin turned to Sam, "And a pleasure to meet you, Sam."

"You two know each other?" Sam looked back and forth between the two men.

"I did overhear Dean tell you that he rescued me from a hawk." Déardaoin smiled. "However, this is the first time that Dean has seen this form in person."

Sam tilted his head and looked at his brother, who threw his hands up in defense. "Dude, we're witches. Weird is what we do."

Déardaoin laughed softly in response. "I must say, I appreciate the mirth you've brought me the past couple of days. It's been unpleasant for myself and my surviving clan members. We're all but drained, and we need safety and rest."

He turned back to the thicket. "I'm going to go get them. They may be a bit wary, but please don't hold it against them." Déardaoin disappeared into the stand of trees.

"I don't even know how you do it, Dean." Sam ran his hand through his hair while shaking his head. "You had no clue of the situation going on, and you still managed to get wrapped up in it."

"Pretty sure Mom wanted my middle name to be Trouble, not Michael."

Sam snorted, as Déardaoin came back out, a fox and a corgi walking by his feet and a ferret in his hands. "The rest of the Clan Angelus, at your service."

The fox cautiously sniffed the air and walked up to Sam while the corgi came bounding through, running around in circles around the two brothers. The ferret scampered up Déardaoin's arm and sat on his shoulder. "I'll complete the introductions when we're back in the safety of your home, it's not safe to say our names in the open air."

Dean nodded and lead the way back to his cabin, careful to not trip over the hyperactive corgi.

Once back at the cabin, Sam headed towards his car and started pulling out some of the extra rations he had brought for the trip. Ellen had warned him that he would be searching for the familiars and that Dean would probably cooking for them. So she sent him with enough food for a small army.

Dean chose to set up and cook outside, with so many bodies and not that much room inside the cabin. It was awesome for him, and great for a plus one, but it was iffy at three and not meant for more than that. As prepped and cooked the food for the group, his eyes kept traveling back to the familiars. They had been through so much, but they looked at peace.

It brought a spark of joy to his heart that he could help them heal, but it reminded him of what he believed he could never have. And watching Sam with the fox of the group stung him even more. Dean started to lose himself to his moping when the startled squeal of a ferret on the back of corgi and the laughter of the two men brought him back to reality.

Déardaoin cleared his throat. "Alright, as promised, especially since you three appear to be settling in." He pointed at his clan members. "I said there would be introductions." He started by picking up the ferret and setting it on the table. "This little trouble maker is Charlie. She's feisty, and always getting into trouble."

The ferret squeaked, apparently in defiance, then scampered her way over to Dean.

"He can't understand you, Charlie.”

Dean put his hand down and let her scamper up and sit on his shoulder. "I think a shoulder ferret is cooler than a parrot. Does that earn me points?"

"With Charlie? Yes." The familiar in human form smiled. "The fox, who is currently resting her head on your lap, Sam, is Amy."

"Hello, Amy." Sam gently scratched behind her ear. "I can't wait until your strength is back so we can talk."

Dean smiled at his brother and could have sworn that he heard the ferret on his shoulder sigh contently.

"The assbutt Corgi that is running around is my older brother, Gabriel. He came under the bribe of sweets, and that we would help him find his witch, Kali. He's cut off from restoring his power until he's with her again."

Gabriel barked and chased his tail.

"No, Gabe, you're not going to stay a dog permanently. You'll get enough power to change back to your human form if you rest for two seconds."

Gabriel sat down for precisely two seconds before running around again.

Finally, Déardaoin looked at Dean and gave him his full attention. "As for me, I am Castiel. Youngest son of the Angelus Clan."

"Castiel." Dean tested the name out on his tongue. "It suits you."

"You're the first person to say that. Even Gabriel makes fun of it." Castiel smiled. "I apologize for intruding on you like I have. You've been so kind."

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "Dude, I fed you canned tuna, I'm sorry."

"You had no idea that I was a familiar. Even then, it was like ambrosia to me. I hadn't eaten in at least a day. My magic was so weak, I'm surprised I had anything left. I had been using my powers to keep us hidden." Castiel shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Then why did you come to me?"

Castiel blushed and looked down. When he didn't answer, Dean felt a little nudge against his cheek from the ferret on his shoulder.

"Hey, Castiel. What did you mean when you spoke to me in my dream? That I was more than dreaming?"

"What all do you know about Familiars?"

Sam looked up at Castiel's question. "We don't know much. We've never resonated."

Castiel turned and smiled at Sam. "You will soon, Sam." He turned and looked back at Dean. "And you started last night."

Dean's heart skipped a beat. "You, in my dream?"

"You knew me, but you didn't know my human form." Castiel moved closer to Dean. "You recognized something, though."

"Your eyes." Dean closed his own eyes remember the not-a-dream from the night before. "I would know those eyes anywhere." Dean felt the ferret sigh on his shoulder again. "What is she? A hopeless romantic?"

Castiel chuckled. "Charlie very much believes in true love, soulmates, familiar bonds." He held his hand out to Dean's shoulder. "Come on, Charlie." When she refused to move, he leaned in and stage whispered, "I can't kiss him if you're on his shoulders."

The ferret scrambled across Castiel's arm and ran down on to the table, turning around and watching them expectantly.

"Sorry Kiddo, you're not going to see that. I need to finish cooking dinner. You guys need to get your strength back." Dean patted Charlie's head before walking back to his makeshift kitchen.

The ferret exploded into angry chirps and squeaks, disappointed at being duped.

Dean finished cooking and plating up the food, and more than happily helped feed Charlie while Sam fed Amy and Castiel fed Gabriel. Sam joked about having the weirdest family dinner ever.

After dinner, Charlie ran off to play with Gabriel again, and Amy came over to finally meet Dean. Sam took that opportunity to call Ellen and give her an update on what was happening. Castiel, being in human form, was able to speak somewhat on Amy's behalf, like he had for Charlie and Gabriel, and confirmed that Amy was resonating with Sam.

"The reason Sam hasn't felt it yet is that, like I was, Amy is still weak and needs to regain her strength. Once she has a little extra magic to spare, the bond will form naturally." Castiel paused and thought on his next words. "I will say being in your wards is rejuvenating. I felt guilty leaving them alone as long as I did, but between getting injured, you healing me, and then, well..." Castiel blushed.

"Perhaps another night here for all of you will do you good?" Dean blurted out.

Cas raised his eyebrow. "All of us?"

"I feel the pull now, and of course I want you to stay. But I know that you won't be ok unless they're ok. And I want them to be ok also." Dean shook his head and shrugged. "I have a loft that Sam sleeps in when he stays. I'm sure he can get up there ok, and I don't think you're going to pull this beautiful girl away from him." Dean scratched Amy behind her ears.

"And Charlie and Gabe?"

"You've been in there. I have tons of baskets for storage. We can give one to Charlie to nest in for the night. Gabe, I mean, I know it's not pleasant, but I have spare blankets and pillows, I can set him up with a bed on the floor out of the way so no one trips." Dean looked at Castiel. "I can make everyone fit."

"You mentioned everyone but me." Castiel tilted his head.

"Oh. Uh. I assumed." Dean turned bright red. "I'm sorry, Cas."

"What did you assume?" The corner of Cas' mouth quirked up into a sly smile.

Dean shook his head. "The familiar bond thing, and you know." He stumbled over his words. "You can have the bed. I can steal a pillow and sleep on the floor."

"No." Cas shook his head. "Absolutely not."

"Well, you're not..."

"No, I'm not," Cas interrupted.

"You were just messing with me, weren't you?" Dean asked, his face twisting into a fake pout.

"I was." Cas leaned across the table and kissed Dean softly on the cheek. "How did I get so lucky that I have a witch who is all about family, and willing to take in what's left of me and mine when I need it the most?"

Dean blushed. "How did I get so lucky that my familiar was able to charm me as a cat? And put up with the fact that I have an allergy to cats?"

"You did not just ruin my attempt to be ruin romantic, with reminding me of the fact that you were barely able to breathe through your nose."

"I think that's actually quite romantic." Dean smiled, biting his bottom lip to keep from laughing. "It means that I'm willing to show my gross side for you."

"Well, luckily, that shouldn't be an issue once we're fully bonded." Cas reached his hand across the table, offering it to Dean.

Sam returned, and Amy bounded back over to him, walking back with him. "Who's fully bonded now?"

"No one yet, Sammy. Go set up the loft. You and Amy can crash up there." Dean took Cas' hand and stood up, pulling Cas to his feet. "Let's go get the rest of the family settled in for the night. We have forever to figure out you and me, Cas."

Dean pulled Cas into a warm embrace, starting the steps to completing their bond with a real, waking-world, first kiss.

#profoundnet #spncreatorsdaily #destiel #deancas #au - modern with magic #witch!dean #familiar!cas #witch!sam #other characters as familiars #rating: t #sfw #tw: animals fighting #nickel writes

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superheroconfetti · 5 years

Text

Let It Rain Part 1/?

Pairings: Chris Evans x OFC

Warnings: PG-13 - Little bit of language

Word Count: 4497 (Yes, I talk a lot)

Author Notes: Debating continuing this. First attempt at a Chris fic, so we’ll see how it goes! :)

The news had been warning us of the fall storms rolling in over the weekend for almost seven days in advance, a wicked bout of weather was headed our way and it made me nervous. Normally, I’d be fine, but being in a house that wasn’t ours, with my fiance’ on the other side of the country, made me more out of sorts than normal.

Chris had gone back to California for a few weeks of press for his new movie, leaving me at our place outside of Atlanta. It had been much easier to pick up our lives and move here, where the majority of the last Avengers movie was being filmed. The house was only rented, a giant, three story Victorian place, tucked back outside of the city limits. I’d fallen in love with it, over Facetime, when he’d been looking and taken me through a tour of the property. Secretly, I’d begun to wonder, over the months we’d spent, if he’d fallen in love with it enough to buy it when filming ended. He’d always said how relaxed he felt, coming home from sixteen hour days of filming, knowing that he could actually let his guard down and escape when he wasn't on set. I had to admit that it was beautiful here and I wasn’t sure that I’d mind staying, if he wanted to.

Opening the front door, I took a peek outside, the sunshine bright and way too hot for the middle of November, even in the South. The air had a volatile sort of quality to it, that I could already feel and I sighed, twisting my engagement ring on my finger. Even from California, Chris had been keeping an eye on the weather reports, adorably keeping me updated when there was any change. I let him, not bothering to mention that I was keeping a better eye on it, possibly than even he was. Rain and wind, I could handle, but the talk of tornados, scared the life out of me.

Raised up north, storms like these were definitely not a common thing for me. Chris had been filming in Atlanta long enough over the years, to barely bat an eye at the mention of severe storms, but this time, he even seemed worried. I’d just settled in a chair on our porch, watching the dried leaves whip through the lawn at a hurried pace, when my phone beeped from my pocket. I scooped it up, smiling to see a text from him.

I’d tagged him in my contacts as “Captain”, forever snickering over it when I received a notification or phone call from him. Chris hadn’t noticed until he’d been looking in my phone for a picture he’d wanted one afternoon and realized what I’d done. He’d simply groaned and rolled his eyes, smirking good naturedly but I had a feeling that he liked it more than he let on.

Ry, you’re watching this shit right? I’m starting to get worried about you, baby.

I sighed, rubbing my hands over my face before answering him. It was better to do it now, he’d worry if I took too long, getting back to him, especially on a day like today.

I’m watching. Little bit scared. I admitted. It’s way too hot out for November, feels weird outside.

Fuck. His one word message came back and I knew he was frustratedly running his fingers through his hair. He’d let it grow again while filming and I was secretly hoping that he’d wait awhile to cut it again. You know I’d be there if I could.

I know. But you have work to do, babe. Being in LA is important right now. I imagine you don’t even have a break in your schedule, even if you wanted to.

No… Even his text messages sounded exhausted and with more than a week to go, I could tell that he was already done. As much as he loved the movie, the fans, his fellow cast mates, the press always made him tired. He was much happier at home, hanging out on the couch, with Dodger, watching sports and zoning out. I didn’t mind those times because they were far and few between and I knew he desperately needed them.

It’ll be fine, Chris. I assured him. As worried as I was, he still had a job to do and he needed to focus on that. I’ll be alright. Hopefully it just turns out to be a bunch of rain.

Just, keep in touch, okay? Be careful?

Whatever you say, Captain. I teased him gently because I knew it would make him smile.

Never gonna live this shit down, am I?

I knew he had rolled his eyes, but was still laughing. My phone beeped again, this time with a photo attached and it was a picture of him, with his hand over his face, shaking his head. One bright blue eye peeked between his fingers and it made me smile.

You’re cute, Evans. Go do your job. I’ll see you sometime next week, babe.

He’d typed out a quick I love you and I did the same, before shoving my phone back into the pocket of my shorts. There was a whine at the screen door and I looked back to see Dodger watching me, pawing at the handle to be let outside. Normally, Chris would have taken him, but with the crazy hours of a press tour, he wouldn’t have the time to care for him and so he got to stay at home. Completely useless as a guard dog, he just wanted to be near anyone who would pet him for hours.

“That was your dad…” I scratched behind his ears when I opened the door and he sped outside, down the front steps and into a pile of leaves I’d raked up the day before. “He misses you… too…”

Dodger just looked at me with a doggy grin, cocking his head and looking so much like his owner that I had to laugh.

“Oh man, we’re a mess without him, aren’t we?” I giggled, sitting back in the chair. Soon enough, Dodger tired of the leaves and came to curl up at my feet. I ran over his fur with my bare toes and he relaxed enough to start snoring. It was cute and I took a video, sending the short clip off to Chris. I didn’t know when he’d get a chance to look at it, but it seemed to help him when he was away to have a little bit of home.

His response was quicker than I’d expected and he was either sitting in the back row of an interview, not paying attention or he was on a break.

God, I miss you two.

Miss you.

There wasn’t another reply and I sighed, checking my phone for the weather for the millionth time. The forecast hadn’t gotten any worse, but it hadn’t gotten any better either.

I sat for awhile longer, feeling the wind pick up and start to whip the leaves around, tree branches outside the house starting to shake more than before. The sky was slowly getting darker, thick clouds moving in. Even Dodger knew something was happening as he picked his head up, anxiously, looking around and whining.

“Just a storm, buddy.” I tried to comfort him, but he stuck to me like glue as I went back inside, pacing and looking anxious.

Making dinner for the both of us, kept my racing thoughts and Dodger’s whimpering to a minimum as we settled in. Usually an “everyone eats at the table” kind of person, I just didn’t manage it when Chris wasn’t home. I curled up on the couch with a bowl of pasta and chicken, throwing pieces of it to Dodger, to keep him busy. He seemed content to lay on the couch next to me, happily chowing down on his bone and the occasional treat.

It was already dark when the rain began to pour and I flipped on the television, watching the weather closely. Our area was due for several threatening hits over the next few hours and I sighed when they reported that watches and warnings were already scattered all over the west side of the city. We were in for a long night.

Thankfully, with a reminder from Chris, I’d already charged my phone and my laptop, in case of a power loss. He was so much more used to this weather than I was. Earlier, he’d told me to put a pair of gym shoes, a jacket and Dodger’s leash somewhere I could easily grab them, in case of a real emergency. It was sweet that he was worried from across the country, but the fact that I’d had to make contingency plans did nothing for my nerves.

The rain came even harder and then the wind, so sharp I could hear it howling outside without even opening a door. A loud crack made me jump and Dodger whimpered, racing to hide under the dining room table.

“Some help you are.” I muttered, rolling my eyes. The noise had come from the back of the house and I went to investigate, seeing that one of the giant willows in the backyard, was missing a few of its heavy branches. A bright burst of lightning showed me just how close it had been to taking out the double glass doors. At the same time I breathed a sigh of relief, a rumbling blast of thunder was loud enough to practically feel down to my toes.

“Jesus Christ.” I muttered, swallowing hard. I was on my way back to the living room when the house was plunged into sudden darkness, with a pop and a sizzle as the power went out. Dodger was whimpering, probably still under the table and I worked my way back to the center of the house, with the flashlight on my phone. The dog nearly tripped me when he recognized someone familiar, instantly glued to my side, refusing to move.

“Shhh, it’s okay…”I rubbed his fur, trying to soothe him, but I knew he could tell how on edge I was and it didn’t help him at all. “Oh where the hell is your dad when we need him, huh? Sunny freakin’ California, there’s no tornados there. Only earthquakes. I would so take an earthquake right now.”

We’d just made it back to the couch, huddled in our own respective balls when a bang, with the volume of an explosion happened. I recognized the tinkle of glass hitting the wooden floor and bit back tears. Now the worry was real and all I wanted was Chris there to tell me everything was going to be okay. Dodger began barking madly, as if he was attempting to scare off whatever had broken the glass. “Fine time to be a guard dog now…” I hissed at him, knowing he wasn’t paying any attention. Glancing at my cell phone, I didn’t have any bars of service and really started to panic.

“Ok, Dodge, come on buddy, let’s go get your leash. We gotta go downstairs.” I had never been so happy for Chris’ suggestion about the shoes and a small backpack of essential items. Grabbing all of it and shakily clipping Dodger’s leash to his collar, we worked our way down to a small closet, hidden at the bottom level of the house. Chris and I hadn’t even known it was there until about a month after we’d moved, finding it one day when we’d been goofily exploring every nook and cranny of the place.

Dodger continued to whine and pace in the small space, giving me very little room to do much else but sit on the floor and try to calm down. It was hard to do, when the only noise was the pounding rain and wind, strong enough to take out every tree on the property. I tried to send a message to Chris, my hands shakily punching in letters, but when I tried to send it, it failed every time.

“Dammit, dammit…” I whispered, swallowing hard. “Okay, buddy. We’re gonna be alright, it’ll be over soon.” The dog didn’t seem comforted and I think I’d said the words more to reassure myself than him, but he put his paws on my knees, nosing insistently at me as if to check if I was in one piece. For being quite a bit bigger than a lap dog, he always seemed to end up there anyway and I put my arms around his neck, hanging on. His leash was still wrapped around my hand, so that I could hold onto him if needed. If there was one thing I knew would break Chris’ heart more than anything else, it would be to lose his dog.

We sat in silence for what seemed like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, the dog’s tail swishing forlornly against my side. Another explosion like noise and slam from upstairs nearly brought tears to my eyes, I was really beginning to hate how loud this storm was, wondering how much damage was being done to the house. The noises continued though and I suddenly was on high alert, unsure if I’d locked the doors. Being outside of the city and rather secluded, I’d never given much thought to being bothered. If the massive amount of foliage didn’t fend off any unwanted visitors, the mile long winding driveway down to the house would have. Dodger often sat outside, guarding it and waiting, especially when Chris was gone, as if he refused to move until he saw his owner come back.

What sounded like footsteps, and quick ones, creaked across the floorboards above us and Dodger yelped quietly, trying to lunge out of my grasp. “Hey! Stay here!” I murmured, pulling him close. He only whined and wriggled more, desperate to see what was going on. Another slam and more footsteps thundered down the stairs, closer to our hiding spot. There was a voice and it took me a long moment to process that somehow, the voice knew my name.

“Ry? Dodge? Rylee!” It was full of panic and worry, but Dodger’s answering bark drowned out the next words. The door to our hiding spot flew open and the dog darted away before I could grab at his collar. Thankfully, he hadn’t gone far, joyfully pawing at the person standing there.

“Rylee? Baby, holy fuck, are you okay?”

Chris. Oh my God. I didn’t know why he was there or how he’d even managed to get to us, with the storm going on outside, but I’d never been happier to see him.

“Hi…” I stood up, tears finally falling, more out of relief than anything else as he pulled me in tightly against his chest. “How...why…?”

“Shhh. shhhh…” he murmured, brushing his hand over my hair. He was soaking wet, flannel and t-shirt clinging to him. “It’s okay.”

“Chris, you’re soaked.” I immediately worried, when I realized he was drenched, brushing my hands over his arms. “Honey, what happened?”

“Can’t get down the driveway…” he shook his head. “Like three trees down, I walked.”

“Are you insane?” I breathed. “How did you even get here?”

“Airport wasn’t grounded when my flight came in. Made it right before the storms hit. I’ve been trying for almost two hours to get to you. Traffic is a nightmare, the interstate is a parking lot, I about got out and walked from there. Thank God, you’re alright.” He cupped my face as he spoke, earnestly looking me over as well as he could in the dim light.

“We’re fine, we’re fine.” I assured him. “Scared out of my mind...but Chris, the house…”

“Is a mess.” he frowned. “There’s glass everywhere, I’m guessing a tree came down in the back.”

“It sounded like a bomb went off.” I admitted, putting my arms around his waist, just hanging on.

“We’ll deal with it tomorrow, when we can see what the damage is. God, do you know how scared I was? Opening the door and stepping on glass, with you and Dodge nowhere in sight?” His thumbs gently wiped the last of my tears from my cheeks.

“I tried to text you, but the service was out. When the glass broke, I grabbed his leash and my shoes and came down here.”

The corners of his mouth turned up in a relieved smile. “You really did that?” He seemed surprised, as if he didn’t think I’d listen to him, about making a small pile of essentials.

“Chris, you asked me to. Of course. You know I love Dodge as much as you do, there’s no way I’d let him get hurt.”

“I don’t want you hurt either…” he breathed, pulling me close again. I suddenly didn’t mind that he was completely drenched and that being against him was slowly soaking my clothes as well. He fiercely kissed my forehead, lingering for a moment, before pulling back. We both listened for a moment, the wind and rain not sounding nearly as powerful as it had before.

“Do you think it’s over?”

“I hope that was the worst of it.” he sighed, tugging his fingers through his hair, turning around in the dim light to call for Dodger. “Come here, buddy.”

The dog had been impatiently sniffing around the bottom level, somewhere he rarely went, but was next to Chris the second he called him. “Stay here with him for a second, I’m going to check things out…”

“My very own, real life superhero.” I teased him and he chuckled, squeezing my hand before disappearing back up the stairs.

For awhile, I listened for his footsteps, slowly moving around on the floor above. It had been a good twenty minutes before he returned, the outline of his frame, glowing dimly in the light of his phone screen.

“How bad is it?”

He frowned and I realized just how exhausted he really was. Hoping for a good night of sleep and to wrestle with the dog and a few decent meals, he’d come home to the storm of the century and a torn up house.

His arm came around me, pulling me against his side. It wasn’t until then that I realized he’d found some dry clothes, but his skin was still cold. “The window is gone.”

“What? Oh no…”

My heart was broken a little bit. The giant stained glass window in the bedroom was what had sold me on the house. Chris had taken pictures of it and then shown me on a FaceTime conversation. The brightly colored, delicate pieces of glass, had been put there with such care, an intricate garden of flowers. There’d been more than one morning that I’d woken up before Chris, watching the sunshine come in, flashing pale bursts of color across his skin as he slept.

“I’m sorry, babe. I know how much you loved it.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to my hair. “Maybe there’s a way to get it redone.”

“We only have another month here.” I said. “I can’t imagine that it could get done that quickly. The owners would probably just replace it with regular glass.”

“I’ll talk to them.” He assured me, brushing a quick hand over my hair, tugging playfully at my ponytail, something he’d done since the day we’d met.

I nodded, breathing in the comforting smell of the detergent I’d washed his tee in and he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against his chest. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“It’s only for three days.” He said, quietly. “I gotta go back. They rearranged the press schedule to add more overseas interviews. But I told them I’d be back and got on a plane. They know me well enough now to know that I’ll be there when they need me.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too…” he took in a deep breath. “Why don’t we try going back upstairs. If we keep Dodger in the living room and the kitchen, he’ll stay out of the glass. The hallway got hit too, those doors got punched out.”

“Oh my God.” The amount of damage in such a short time, scared me. We’d been walking that hallway only moments before the glass had come down and the fact that I’d seen the first round of branches outside was even scarier,.

“It’s okay, Ry.” He put me behind him as we climbed the stairs back to the top level, still holding onto my hand. “It can all be fixed. I’m just glad you and Dodger are alright.”

The wind and the rain still pounded the house, but not nearly as loud as earlier. I jumped when the lightning flashed, causing Chris to chuckle softly. “If we had somewhere to sleep, I’d make you forget all about this ridiculous storm.”

Pulling back, I blinked up at him, confused, until I realized that the stained glass wall had probably exploded inward, shattering all over the master bedroom.

“Oh no, really?”

“Really.” He sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair. “We’re gonna be picking up glass in there for awhile.”

“Way to spend your days off. I’m sure that’s exactly what you wanted.” I groaned. “That’s okay, you’re going to relax. I’ll get everything taken care of and cleaned up.”

“Look at you, taking charge.” He smiled, tucking a strand of hair back from my cheek. “Kinda hot.”

I blushed, but even in the dark I knew he could tell.

“Look Ry, was cleaning up from a storm what I planned to do while I was back home? Not even on the top ten of my list, but I’ll be damned if I just hang around, while you fix things. That’s not how this goes.”

“Chris, you need time to decompress for a few days. You’re always exhausted after a press tour.”

“Fine. I’ll relax.” He finally gave in, but not before the edges of a smile turned his lips. “As long as you do it with me.”

“You’re sly, Evans.” I shook my head, trying not to laugh. “Why don’t we pick up this discussion tomorrow once we can check out the damage. ”

He nodded, his hand coming up to brush fingertips over my cheek. “You know what?”

“What?”

His voice had lowered a couple of notches as he stepped in closer. “I haven’t even gotten to kiss you yet. That’s even more of a problem than broken windows.”

I realized that he was right and smiled a little, wrapping my arms around his neck to bring him down closer to me. “I missed you, Chris.”

“Mmm, me too babydoll.” he sighed, before taking a quick nip at my bottom lip, then fusing his mouth to mine. Fingers tangled in my ponytail and I finally relaxed into him, forgetting all about the weather raging on around us. He didn’t pull away until Dodger whined, pawing at us impatiently for some attention.

“Hey buddy, I missed you too…” he crouched down with a grin, ruffling his fur, the two getting into a wrestling match in the living room, even with the barest of lighting. I let them go, knowing they both had a little extra adrenaline to work off. As always, the wrestling match ended up with the dog sitting on Chris, as he practically cackled with infectious laughter.

“My boys.” I snickered, just enjoying the feeling of having my little family in one place.

“He’s a goof.” Chris chuckled, finally shoving him off and joining me on the couch. The rain was down to a harsh drizzle and I flicked through the weather app on my phone, looking for an updated forecast. In an attempt to save the battery while the power was still out, I shut it down rather quickly. “I think the worst of it is over. The rain isn’t going to stop anytime soon.”

“God, I didn’t realize how tired I was until I sat down.” He pressed his lips to my shoulder, sighing against the fabric of my sweater. “We can sleep?”

“I’ve just got blankets in the guest room.” I bit down on my lip. “All the pillows are in ours.”

“Mmm, don’t care.” he nuzzled again, clearly exhausted. “We’ll figure it out. I’ve spent three weeks in hotel beds without you, no way in hell am I doing it again until I have to.”

“Sounds fair.” I reached up, running my fingers through his hair. “Come on, before you fall asleep right here.”

‘Here is nice too.” he mumbled, breathing in deeply. “I’m not gonna make it in there if you keep doing that.”

“God knows I’m not strong enough to get you off this couch.” I giggled, shifting out from under him, as he immediately slumped into the space I vacated. “Christopher, come on, five more minutes.”

He groaned and sighed, but finally managed to get up, following along behind me. Dodger trailed after us both, seemingly confused as to why we’d settled in the guest bedroom, but he parked himself and his stuffed lion on the floor anyway.

Chris stretched, then flopped onto the bed with a thud that shook the mattress, not even bothering to kick his shoes off. I tried to hide my giggles but he heard me anyway and suddenly there was a balled up t-shirt flying at my head. I batted it away, still snickering and he only made a face, barely visible in the dim light.

“Stop laughing.” he mumbled, before rolling onto his stomach, head pillowed on his arms. For a moment, I couldn’t help admire, watching the way his large frame was stretched out, taking up more than half of the bed. He was always in shape, but extra muscle rippled after a movie shoot and the shadows only seemed to highlight it more.

My daydreaming was interrupted by his soft snore and I had to stop myself from giggling again. God, he was cute. Somehow, I managed to pull his sneakers off his feet without waking him and took a blanket from the closet, tucking it around his body so he wouldn’t get cold. I grabbed another for myself, before laying down next to him and he mumbled, sleepily, before throwing an arm over my waist to pull me in closer. He was always warm, something I never was and it was nice to have him there. Rest didn’t come easy without him, even though we were used to being apart.

Sweetly, he nuzzled even closer, brushing his lips against my hair. “Love you, Ry…”

I knew he wouldn’t remember it in the morning but I pressed a kiss to his shoulder anyway, murmuring the same. The wind and rain were still coming down and we’d deal with the damage to the house in the morning, but for that moment, my little family was safe and home and that’s all I needed.

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fan fic #LetItRain #chris evans x ofc

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braincoins · 6 years

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Title: Learn By Heart Fandom: “Voltron: Legendary Defender” Summary: It's Allura's first semester teaching, and she's prepared for anything ...except Takashi Shirogane. Ships: Shallura Warnings: N/A Author’s Notes: This is for my @shalluraexchange giftee, @zsyree! I hope you like it even if it wasn't your first-choice prompt.

They're not supposed to be at any particular college/university, but this is me, and I write what I know. What I know is Indiana University Bloomington. So to any IU alumni or students out there, some of this should be familiar.

Before anyone asks - they're the same age. (I even have her say it in the fic.) How is that possible? Welllll, she went to college right after high school, while he enrolled in the Air Force. She's completed her undergrad courses and is just starting her graduate career, and, as such, has been press-ganged by her advisor into teaching. Meanwhile, he's taken a few college-level courses as part of his advancement in the USAF, but he's otherwise been preoccupied with his tours of duty. Then he was injured and he needed time to heal, recover, get the prosthetic and then get used to it. This is his first time in a formal higher education setting.

Fic below the cut (3,600 words - also on AO3)

Allura was logging into the classroom’s computer when she heard a polite, “Excuse me?” from behind her.

She turned towards the smoothly masculine voice and smiled pleasantly even as her stomach flopped. Standing before her was a handsome young man, her age or maybe a little older, with a shock of white hair, a scar across his nose (just under warm, dark eyes), and an easygoing smile. Broad shoulders and chest… she made herself stop and look him in the eye. Remain professional, she chided herself. Aside from the black turtleneck he was wearing, he looked like a military recruitment poster come to life.

“You’re Professor Smythe?”

Her smile widened a little at how surprised he sounded. “I am Ms. Fala,” she corrected. “I’m one of Professor Smythe’s grad students. I’m teaching this section. Can I help you?”

His gaze had been drifting a bit south and he cleared his throat and straightened up again. Well, at least I’m not the only one who likes what they see. “I’m Takashi Shirogane. I was told to give you this when I arrived.” He held out a piece of paper and when she looked down to take it, she realized almost immediately what it was. Not because of the paper, which was neatly folded in half, but because where his right hand should have been was a jet black mechanical prosthetic.

She accepted the paper and unfolded it and, sure enough, it was a notice of need for accommodation. She read it and nodded. “All in order. Do you need this back?”

“Yes, please. I have to show it to all my teachers.” She handed it back to him and he thanked her quietly as he tucked it back into his jeans pocket.

“What sort of accommodation do you require?”

“Not much. I just need to sit front and center with my laptop and mic. It’s not a big setup; it shouldn’t be in anyone else’s way. I can use a mouse pretty well but I can’t really type fast enough to keep up, so I’ve got a speech-to-text program set up to take notes on what you say. I also have a notebook for jotting things down the old-fashioned way, but I’m still getting used to the new hand, and I want to make sure I don’t miss anything important.”

She nodded and gestured to the still empty front row. “I would suggest sitting here, actually, rather than in the center. I spend most of my time at the computer podium or very near it. Also, I do upload my PowerPoints at the end of each class, so you can access those online.”

His smile widened. “Great, thank you. That’s a big help.”

“Do you need a plug? There are several free ones on the podium.”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of charge, but if it’s not too much of a bother…”

“No bother at all, Mr. Shirogane.”

“My friends all call me Shiro.”

She cleared her throat. “Get your things set up, Mr. Shirogane,” she said pleasantly. Unfortunately, you’re a student, so you’re going to have to stay “Mr. Shirogane.” That was a disappointment, but hey, at least she’d have a nice view during class. STOP THAT. Stop objectifying one of your students. “There’s a plug right here you can use,” she said, indicating one on the back of the podium.

“Thank you, Ms. Fala.” And he went to his seat, already slinging his backpack off to get it open.

She resumed setting up her “first day of class” slides and tried to keep her thoughts professional and on the topic of Comparative Politics.

The first class was standard and boring – talking about the curriculum, where to find the syllabus and PowerPoints online, her grading scale, etc. It was a first-year introductory class, and most of these students were just taking it for the necessary “Breadth of Inquiry” credits that the university required. Still, if she could turn even one of them into a poli-sci major, she’d count that as a huge victory. But ultimately, her job was to relay the required material to them, go over their papers, and compile their grades.

Still, for a boring introductory class on a basic topic, she found Mr. Shirogane alert and attentive. The small microphone clipped to the lid of his laptop was unobtrusive. While other students were barely staying awake, he hand-wrote the URLs, her college-affiliated email address, and her office hour times down in his notebook and never once looked bored.

She let them out early (promising them they were unlikely to get this consideration for the rest of the semester) and began the process of logging off and shutting down. Due to his extra preparations, Mr. Shirogane was quickly the only one left in the room with her.

“Well, it should be an interesting class,” he said conversationally as he started unplugging everything and packing it up.

“I appreciate your interest, but don’t get your hopes up,” she warned with a light chuckle. Be careful not to flirt, she reminded herself.

“I’m not. I’m genuinely looking forward to it.”

“Are you going to major in political science?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Minor. Well, double minor: this and history.”

Her eyebrows went up. Not quite a major, but at least he has a definite interest in the subject instead of just taking it as something to get out of the way. “Very nice. Do you have a major in mind?”

He nodded. “Double major: physics and astronomy.”

“Double major AND double minor?” She whistled quietly at the mere thought of the workload for that. “Well, you’re not afraid of hard work, that’s for sure. And physics/astronomy with poli-sci/history? Unusual choice.”

He shrugged. “Well, I want to be an astronaut, so that kind of dictates my majors. There are a few other options, but those were the ones that were most interesting to me. I can pretty much do what I want with my minors, and I thought it’d be nice to diverge a bit, indulge some of my other interests.”

“An astronaut?” She blinked.

His smile thinned. “I know, but just because I lost my hand doesn’t mean I can’t…”

“Oh, no!” She rushed to reassure him. “I wasn’t… that’s not…!” She cleared her throat. “Of course you can. I was just surprised that I have a future astronaut in my class, that’s all.”

His smile turned apologetic. “Sorry. I’m used to people thinking I’m,” he looked down at his right hand, which closed up into a loose fist, “broken. Like I can’t do anything like that anymore. Everyone talks like I have to give up the dream I’ve had since I was a kid, just because of the hand.”

“So, it’s… recent then?” She realized what she was asking and cursed at herself mentally. “Not that you need to talk about it; I shouldn’t pry.”

He shrugged. “It’s okay. I lost it a year and a half ago. Afghanistan.”

“Oh, you’re in the military?”

He started to nod and then caught himself. “Well, I was. Air Force.”

“Thank you for your service…” She paused. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your rank.”

“I was a Staff Sergeant, but you don’t have to call me that. Medical discharge and all that.” He waved his prosthetic hand. “Finally getting back into the world. I generally prefer Shiro or Takashi to ‘Sergeant Shirogane’ all the time.”

She cleared her throat. “Well, Mr. Shirogane, I’ll see you in class again on Wednesday, yes?”

“Bright and early!” he confirmed. “Did you lose a bet to get the 9 AM class?”

She smirked. “I’m the newest grad student, so I had little choice. And you can’t really complain; you signed up for this section.”

“Well, technically, yes, but it was the only one that still had available seats.” They both laughed and he swung his backpack onto his back again. “See you, Wednesday, Ms. Fala.”

She watched him go, chided herself for ogling him again (I’m not sure how jeans that tight can be comfortable, but bless him for wearing them anyway), and grabbed her things. She had her own coursework to see to, after all.

*****

Coran set aside the work she’d handed him on her thesis. “So, how’s your first semester of teaching going, Allura?”

She barely caught her smile from slipping. “Fine.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “You know I can tell when you’re lying to me.”

“No, really, it’s going as well as could be expected, it’s just…” She chewed on her lower lip.

He reached over his desk to pat her hand. “Students can be rough, especially on a new teacher. They can smell it, like sharks smelling blood. We’re nearly to midterms; I know it’s probably getting stressful.”

“No, it’s… well, I mean, it is, but not because of that. It’s just,” she took a deep breath, “I think I’m going to need you to grade one of my students’ work from now on. Just the one!” she added quickly. “I know you’re busy and I’m asking a lot of you, but it’s really just the one, and he’s honestly one of the best students, so…”

“Allura, slow down!” Her advisor was clearly confused. “If he’s one of the best students, why are you trying to pawn his work off on me?”

She looked away. “It’s… um…” She risked a look back at him.

Professor Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe had a single eyebrow arched and the most “Well?” face she’d ever seen. (The mustache helped.)

She sighed and looked down at her hands in her lap. “I am developing an inappropriate attraction. Even though I’m not acting on it, I feel like my ability to grade his work objectively could be called into question.”

“Oh. Yes, that is a pickle. And you’re not acting on this attraction at all, correct?”

She nodded. “I’m very careful, honestly. The only times we’re alone together are just before and after class, and only for a few minutes each time. Well, and sometimes office hours, but they’re entirely professional!”

“He comes to your office hours?”

“Well, so do some of the other students,” she pointed out.

“And comes early and stays late? For a 9 AM class?”

She cleared her throat. “He has a prosthetic hand. He needs the extra time to set up his computer and software and to pack it all up again. And when he comes to office hours, it’s usually because his speech-to-text program misheard some of my words and he needs clarification for what they’re supposed to be. It’s all entirely professional!” She realized she was sounding defensive (and repeating herself wasn’t helping), so she shut up, feeling ashamed of herself. My first semester teaching and something like this happens.

Coran just nodded. “You’re doing everything right then. That’s fine. I’ll grade his work for the rest of the semester, just to be safe.”

She sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

But then he leaned forward and asked, dropping his voice conspiratorially, “So, how bad is it?”

She blinked. “What, his work? It’s not bad at all, he’s working towards a minor, so he’s actually interested in the subject matter and…”

“No, no, not that. How bad is this crush of yours?”

“Coran.”

“I’m just going to be an insufferable git until you tell me,” he pointed out.

She groaned and flopped back in her chair, tilting her head up to look at the ceiling. “His smile makes my heart stop, my stomach flip, and my knees weak.”

“Oh ho! That is bad!” He was enjoying this.

“And he sits right in front of me. He has to, because of the speech-to-text. He can type, but not fast enough to take good notes. So he’s right there all the time, and he’s always paying full attention to me and the lecture, and …”

“Handsome?”

“Extremely,” she confirmed. She lowered her head to look at Coran again. “He was in the Air Force! He wants to be an astronaut! He’s only a few months older than I am. He’s strong and brave and charming and I may die if he wears that one sweater to class again.” She dropped her head into her hands. “Don’t even get me started on my inappropriate staring as he walks out of the classroom.”

Coran guffawed. “Well, the rules are no fraternizing with students, but nothing wrong with looking! You can’t help who you’re attracted to.”

“You’re not helping,” she muttered through her hands.

“Well, I’m helping by grading his work for you,” he pointed out. “Courage. The semester won’t last forever, even if it seems like it will.”

She lifted her head. “But then I won’t see him again at all.”

Coran tsked at her. “Midterms really must be stressing you out. You’re overlooking the obvious.”

She frowned at him, brow furrowing. “What?”

He shook a finger at her. “You’re a bright girl – one of the best grad students I’ve got – you’ll figure it out! In the meantime, send me the astronaut’s work. We’ll see if it’s truly ‘out of this world.’” He chuckled, clearly pleased at himself.

She groaned again as she stood. “Can you try to write any comments legibly? I’m beginning to believe the campus rumors that the anthropology department tricks their students into trying to decipher your handwriting as if it were some long-lost ancient script.”

“I make no promises,” he declared loftily.

*****

“Mr. Shirogane!” she called after him when she saw him in the student union. She hurried up to him and smiled as he turned. “I’m glad I found you.”

“Ms. Fala,” he greeted her. His smile was warm, as always, and elicited that now-familiar feeling of happy sickness within her. But his smile faltered a little. “Is something wrong?”

“No!” She cleared her throat and tried to calm herself down. “No, nothing at all.”

He let out a sigh of relief. “I was worried that there was a problem with my test or my essay or something.”

“No, it’s not about that. Can we talk somewhere a little… quieter?” They were by Sugar ‘n’ Spice – one of the main coffee hubs in the union – and the hallway by it was half-filled with people waiting in line for a hot beverage.

It was full-on winter now, and students had been hiding their increasing finals-induced stress under hats and scarves and bulky coats. Mr. Shirogane had a black-and-purple beanie, black gloves, and the sort of coat she imagined Arctic explorers would wear to find the North Pole. Or, well, models would wear to give the impression they were exploring the Arctic. Maybe that was just her impression of all of his clothes.

He nodded and looked around. “Um…”

“If you don’t mind the cold, we could go outside?”

He snorted. “Well, it will be much less crowded.” He gestured grandly. “After you.”

She headed downstairs and ducked out into a tiny courtyard off a seating area. She liked coming here in warmer weather, enjoying the relative peace and quiet of the usually-unnoticed outdoor spot. It offered some nice benches and a lovely little sculpture, all of it surrounded by ivy-covered walls, with an old, high, wrought iron gate leading to stairs going up to the main street level. It was bitterly cold, so naturally no one was out here. It was also rather dark; this late in the year, it got dark so early, and with the courtyard’s relatively low position, it was already well-hidden from what sunlight there was left to them. The union’s exterior lights were already on, so she could still easily see his curious expression as she turned to face him.

“So, there was nothing wrong with my final?” he asked.

“You did fine. In fact, I just finished submitting all the grades for the class.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You submitted my final grade or Professor Smythe did?”

She fidgeted. “I submitted all the grades except yours, but Professor Smythe has submitted yours, yes.”

“Can I ask why I seem to be the only one in class who has to put up with his handwriting?”

She couldn’t help laughing at that, and it took her a moment to pull herself back together. “Well, if you had asked me before now, I would have told you that it was because I wanted him to see your work.”

He studied her. “Okay. So what’s the real reason?”

“It’s not a lie. I did want him to see it. You’re a very thoughtful and dedicated student. I can tell you’ve been giving this class a hundred and ten percent, and I appreciate it. So it’s not a lie, but it’s also not the entire truth.” She cleared her throat and tried to keep herself from fidgeting out of nervousness. “I had to turn your work over to someone else to grade. Someone who could be objective.”

Both of his eyebrows went up. “You… Why couldn’t you be objective?” His voice sounded hushed.

She bit her lip, then made herself stop that. C’mon. You rehearsed this about a thousand times. You can do this. “I…” You have to do this. “As incredibly unprofessional as it is to say, when I first found out you were my student, I was terribly disappointed.”

He looked like he’d been slapped.

That spurred her on (and also made her speak a bit quicker, sound less smooth and steady than she’d hoped). “Not because of…! Because you were so handsome!”

That transmuted the wounded look into stunned silence. She made herself take a deep breath before continuing.

“I thought it would be okay. There are a lot of very attractive people on campus, and I’ve always handled things well. I thought things would be the same with you. But they weren’t. They haven’t been, ever. My attraction to you only got worse as I got to know you. So, I turned your work over to Professor Smythe, because it was too hard to view your work objectively.”

He blinked and, after a moment’s consideration, asked, “Is that why the professor always sat in on class on days I had to do oral presentations?”

She nodded and stopped herself from fidgeting again. “Exactly. I would never have been able to give you a proper grade on your work. You have a very nice voice and you use it well.” She blushed. “That sounds terrible out of context, but… your delivery is good, and you have such a deep interest in the subject… Oh heavens, it’s just getting worse!” She cleared her throat. “He had to be the one to grade your presentations, is my point.”

He readjusted the straps of his backpack. “So, you’re… um… telling me this now because…?”

“Because soon I won’t be your teacher any more. And I was hoping that we could go out, get some pizza and beer, just talk.”

“About us?”

Her blush was getting worse, she could feel it. “About us, about one another, about… about anything. I love our little chats before and after class. I always want more time to just talk with you.”

He just stood there, looking at her. She wanted to scream, but she held it in, trying not to look as anxious as she felt. Then he held out his forearm to her. “Pinch me?”

She blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Pinch me, because I’m pretty sure I’m dreaming this.”

She laughed. “I am not going to pinch you!”

“Why not?” he demanded.

“Well, for one thing, that’s your right arm; I can’t really make much of a dent in that.”

He huffed at himself and withdrew the arm. “Sorry, I still forget sometimes.”

“And, for another, I doubt you’d feel it much through that thick coat anyway.”

“I’m pretty sure you could do some damage if you really wanted to.”

“Which brings me to my final point: I don’t want to hurt you!”

“You really want to go out with me?” he asked, dropping the levity.

She smiled and nodded. “Ever since I first saw you. Having you sit right in front of me all semester has been driving me mad.”

“I’d like that. Uh, when you’re not my teacher anymore. Speaking of which, when will that be?”

“Well, the grades for the class are submitted, so I will officially no longer be your teacher at 6 PM.”

“What time is it now?” he asked immediately.

A deep gong from the campus clock tower began declaring the hour. Allura silently counted out the booming chimes until the 6th one sounded and the clock tower’s bells fell into silence again.

A wide grin split his face. “So. Pizza & beer then?”

She nodded. “Sounds wonderful.”

“And, just so we’re on even footing, I have to tell you, I’ve never been one for those ‘hot for teacher’ type scenarios until I met you.”

Her blush cranked to full volume as she laughed. “And here I was going to tell you how charming you were.”

Unexpectedly, he reached out and took her hand in his right. He lifted it to his lips to kiss the back of her …well, glove. “You’re the most beautiful and intelligent woman I’ve ever met,” he told her.

“Okay, you can have your ‘charming’ title back. C’mon, I’m starved, and getting a seat at Mother Bear’s is going to be madness.” She grabbed hold of his hand and tugged him towards the gate.

“I don’t mind waiting for a table.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “More time to spend with you, Ms.. uh..” He laughed.

She joined in. “You can call me ‘Allura’ now, Shiro.”

#zsyree #shalluraexchange #Shallura #Voltron #Socks writes Voltron fanfic #modern AU

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welllpthisishappening · 6 years

Text

It’s the Thought That Counts (1/3)

It was, in theory, a good idea. It was, in theory, an absolutely fantastic idea. Because there was still, sometimes, a crisis or two in Storybrooke and nothing would be more chaotic than trying to find a Christmas present on Main Street, while also trying to keep said Christmas present a secret. Ordering gifts on the internet makes sense. It's just a few clicks and online sales and the presents will be there in plenty of time for Christmas to be perfect.

Emma and Killian are positive.

Except then the presents don't show up and it's Christmas Eve and plan B isn't so much a plan as it is just a bit of pre-holiday desperation and the entire town knows what they're up to.

Rating: Mature’ish. Eventually. As it is, Killian uses some vaguely pirate-type curses in this chapter. Word Count: 8K’ish. Ha. Words. AN: Heyoooooo internet, here are some more words! This is my CSSS gift to @theonceoverthinker who is an absolute delight and deserves all the festive words. I’m not much of a canon writer, but I found a prompt about ordering presents online and not getting them in time and something in my brain was like, yes, ok, do that thing. Here is that thing. Also. Shoutout to @distant-rose for letting me plot in her ear. Because of who I am as a person there are two more chapters that will post in the next two days. Happy holidays, internet!! Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll.

He can’t seem to stop swearing.

Henry can’t seem to stop laughing.

He should probably stop swearing so Henry will stop laughing and then...maybe help him figure what the bloody hell to do next.

“We shouldn’t have trusted that...that...thing,” Killian says, pointing distractedly towards the computer in the corner of the room and Henry snickers, eyes barely moving away from the phone in his hand. “I knew it wasn’t going to work.” “The internet or the postal service?” Henry asks. Killian does his best not to actually groan and slam his hook into the computer. “Because I really don’t think this had much to do with the internet. Your orders went through. They’re just not going to…” “Be here on time,” he finishes and Henry shrugs. “What did the message say again?”

Henry finally pulls his gaze away from the screen in front of him, something that feels a bit like placating practically rolling off him and Killian still wants to hit something.

There isn’t a Christmas equivalent in the Enchanted Forest, per se, but he understands the basic idea of something vaguely festive and the thought of being able to buy gifts for Emma and Henry, even under the guise of holiday requirements, left him feeling excited and hopeful and determined to do all of this right.

And after everything – curses and Dark Ones and altered memories and timelines and death and, well, everything – a few days of uninterrupted peace with Emma smiling at him the same way she had when she’d explained Christmas was, suddenly, the single most appealing thought in the entire world.

Plus several other realms.

So, perhaps, he’s gone a little overboard. Perhaps he’d asked Henry for help and Henry’s first suggestion was to order it all online because then it’ll be a surprise and, well, that made sense too. The last thing Killian needed was every single purchase announced in the middle of Main Street like a brand-new bit of magic set to descend on the town.

It didn’t take long – clicking on links and sites and he’d gotten fairly good at research over the last several crises, so finding the perfect gift was an undertaking Killian was more than willing to shoulder, particularly when Henry informed him that everything would just be delivered to their front door.

“It’s honestly a little like magic,” Henry promised a few weeks before, slinging his legs over the side of the couch with the laptop balanced on his knees. Killian twisted his hand, eyes wide and the unspoken command to sit up practically hanging in the air between them.

Henry rolled his eyes.

And moved his legs.

“You can’t possibly be comfortable like that,” Killian said, dropping onto the far corner when Henry put the laptop on the coffee table in front of them.

“That’s not the point of this conversation.” “And what is the point of this conversation?” “Getting Mom a good gift, obviously,” Henry sighed as if it were the clearest thing in the world. It was. “This is...well it’s important. And Mom said since people could cross the town line without, you know…” “Forgetting themselves completely?” Henry scowled at him and, that time, it was Killian who shrugged. “Yeah,” Henry muttered. “That. Well, you can order stuff online and someone will show up with the packages and then you can totally get a ton of bonus points with Mom.”

“I’m not sure I’m in need of any bonus points.” “Ew. I’m just saying. You order a bunch of stuff online and then you don’t have to worry about Leroy or Archie spilling your gift-giving secrets the first second they see Mom. Plus, you know, more variety.” Killian quirked an eyebrow, gaze darting from the slightly over-enthusiastic teenager next to him to the images on the screen – a site that promised New and Interesting Finds and 12 Days of Deals, whatever that meant.

Henry didn’t seem troubled by any of it, tapping on keys and shouting out ideas and, a few hours later, Killian was buying things and agreeing to plans and getting order confirmations that promised his packages would be delivered by December 23rd at the latest.

Only now, it’s December 24th and there are no packages sitting at the front door and he's inching closer and closer to discouraged with every passing moment.

“It still says what it did before,” Henry grumbles, sinking onto the arm of the couch and at least he’s not draped over it like usual. It’s, Killian has found, a strange habit both he and Emma share – twisting their body parts over furniture in a way that certainly can’t be comfortable or beneficial for any of their muscles. Neither one of them ever seem to mind.

“That, and I’m quoting here, due to unforeseen circumstances at the distribution center, there is a delay on all arrivals and that you should anticipate your orders on…..” Henry clicks his tongue, making a face and squeezing one eye shut. “December 29th. At the latest.”

Killian heaves another sigh, head thrown back in frustration and Henry makes a sympathetic noise because December 29th is not Christmas and this Christmas is supposed to be something special and now they’ve all been outsmarted by magic.

It’s incredibly frustrating.

“I mean, you know, at least they’ve given you a new date,” Henry reasons, tilting his head and doing his best to smile. It’s an almost movement-for-movement replication of the way Emma looks when she tries to reason her way out of anything.

“Several days after Christmas,” Killian points out. “You know your gifts were part of that order as well.” Henry nods despondently. “Yeah, I know, but, well…” He trails off and, finally, flops back onto the couch, knocking over several different and incredibly patterned pillows at the same time he tugs on the blanket draped over the back. Killian immediately regrets every single sigh he’s made, or thought about making, in the last ten minutes and they’re going to fix this.

He’s battled monsters and magic and krakens and can pick out constellations in more than half a dozen different realms. Surely he can conquer Christmas presents.

Even if that requires him to bribe all seven dwarves into silence.

On pain of death. Or hook.

He’s still not convinced he won’t destroy the computer with his hook.

Killian takes a step forward, balancing on the edge of the coffee table and Henry eyes him like he’s just broken every single rule in the house. No one is supposed to sit on the coffee table. It’s an antique.

“This is not your fault, lad,” he says, tugging the phone away from Henry and tossing it without much thought into one of the other chairs.

Henry growls. It’s becoming a more and more frequent noise. “Yeah, I know,” he mutters. “But…” “But?” “You weren’t the only one who ordered things online.” Killian feels his eyes widen slightly and it’s probably not the best response because Henry immediately makes another noise, mumbling a string of curses under his breath that are almost verbatim to what he said earlier. He’s fairly certain Henry wouldn’t know where to send a particularly troublesome sea monster otherwise.

“That so?” Killian asks, smirking out of instinct and interest and Violet was at the house two days before. Both she and Henry leapt several feet in the air when Killian and Emma came home from patrol, laden down with grocery bags and he’d never seen the poor lass move quicker than she did while attempting to leave.

Henry’s face may still be slightly flushed.

“Can that table hold you?” Henry counters speculatively and Killian’s eyebrows shift again.

“The table is perfectly fine. The same may not be true, however, for the entire Christmas event if we don’t do something about the gift situation.” Henry’s lips twitch like he’s trying to bite back a smile and his hair falls towards his eyes when he flips his head to stare at Killian. “You don’t have to call it the entire Christmas event every time you mention it,” he says, but there’s a note of excitement just on the edge of his voice that brings back memories of picking a house and, eventually, filling a house with antique furniture that they aren’t supposed to sit on. “You can just call it Christmas.” “Noted,” Killian grins. “Now what do you say to a gifting operation?” “It needs a good name.” “Of course it does. That’s up to you though.” “Why? My first plan went to crap.” Killian narrows his eyes and he’s still not sure if he’s got a very firm grasp on discipline , but Henry seems to sag a bit further into the couch cushions and maybe neither one of them will send particularly troublesome sea monsters anywhere for the rest of Christmas.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Henry mutters. “I know. And don’t you have to work? Mom said something about some report of a weird snowstorm just….like in the middle of the woods.” “We’re fairly certain that was all speculative. And possibly some drunken story passed around the Rabbit Hole a few days ago because every time we’ve heard about it, it changed. And snow is rather common this time of year, isn’t it?” Henry shrugs, an impressive feat considering the twisted way he’s still lying on the couch. “I’m just saying. If you blow off work, Mom’s going to know something’s up.” “No one is blowing anything off. We’ll come up with an excuse.” “A lie? On Christmas?” “It is not a lie,” Killian argues, but the words already feel heavy on his tongue and Henry’s getting very good at lifting one eyebrow. It does something ridiculous to his stomach. “It is...a calculated move.” “Against who, exactly?” “Christmas.” “You’re making moves against Christmas?”

Killian tries not to sigh again, but it probably wouldn’t matter because Henry is already hysterical, whole body shaking with laughter and eyes closed tightly and they’re wasting valuable shopping time. “We,” Killian corrects pointedly. “Are going to purchase things because this realm can’t seem to get its dates correct or a workforce that values timeliness.” Henry will probably never stop laughing.

“You’re a pirate,” he chuckles. “You’re not supposed to be advocating for a productive workforce.”

“Do you think a ship will simply sail itself if the crew isn’t willing to work? Or if one of the crewmembers skirts his duties? That’s how ships sink, lad.” “Alright, well, this took a decidedly not-Christmas turn.” “Then it seems like it’s time for you to come up with an operation name, don’t you think? And find my phone so I can call your mother.” Henry’s shoulders shake again, but he swings his legs back on the ground and grins at Killian with a look that’s both conspiratorial and something that feels a bit like allegiance. They are, it seems, ready to make a bold move against Christmas.

“Operation: Wrapping Paper,” Henry intones and he’s clearly done it for the reaction because the grin that breaks out on his face when Killian tilts his head in confusion is far too big to be anything but planned.

“You’re going to have to explain that one, lad,” Killian says, standing up and he can almost make out his phone ringing somewhere. It’s probably in the kitchen.

Henry’s grin gets wider. “Your phone’s definitely not in the kitchen. That’s coming from upstairs.”

Bedroom it is then. “And,” he adds. “That is a crazy loud volume. You should probably fix that. Did you not get wrapping paper yet, though? For real?” “I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re telling me,” Killian mutters, taking the stairs two at a time and his phone is sitting in the middle of the bed when he all but sprints into the room.

It’s stopped ringing.

It’s dinging instead.

“Bloody fu…” he hisses, grabbing the stupid thing off the blanket and he’s got two missed calls from Snow and one from Emma and, it appears, they’re working together because the phone starts ringing in his hand.

He doesn’t even have a chance to open his mouth before there’s a slightly frantic voice in his ear.

“Killian?” Emma asks and his eyes widen immediately, defense rising and he’s already half a step closer to the door than he was a moment before. “Where are you?” “Home, Swan and uh…” “Oh, ok, good.” “Is something wrong, love?”

She makes a dismissive noise on the other end and he’s fairly certain he can hear Snow muttering something, but it all sounds a bit jumbled and some of that noise might just be Emma pacing in the sheriff's office.

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” she says quickly. “Totally fine.” “You’re a rather terrible liar, you know that? Did something happen with this snowstorm?”

He can almost see her shaking her head, the sound of her hair brushing against the screen making it nearly impossible to hear her footsteps. There’s a third voice in the sheriff’s station. It’s, absolutely, David.

“Swan,” Killian starts and she must nearly jump to attention on the other side of town because he hears her curse softly when she slams into, what sounds like, her desk. “You’ve got to tell me what’s going on because I’m thinking I may just stay home if there isn’t anything else…” He can’t finish the sentence and he has no idea what he’s going to say because he doesn’t really want to lie to Emma, on Christmas or any other day, but she’s so clearly distracted he’s already got half a mind to walk to work.

He doesn’t get a chance to move.

Emma’s already shouting things again.

“Yes,” she yells and it sounds like David has started laughing, ignoring his daughter’s not-so-quiet reprimands. “Yes! You should absolutely, definitely stay home.” Killian makes a face at the open air in front of him, not sure why he feels the warning bells in the back of his head, but Emma’s voice is just a bit too enthusiastic. It sounds suspiciously like Henry’s when he promised he and Violet were just hanging out alone on the couch.

Emma inhales sharply when she realizes what she’s said and he can picture her, right there in front of him, eyebrows pinched and lower lip tugged tightly between her teeth and David is certainly related to Henry because he can’t seem to stop laughing either.

“Wait,” she says suddenly. “Why do you want to stay home? Are you ok?” “You called me, Swan,” Killian counters. “And told me I should be staying home.” “Yeah.” “Yeah? No explanation? Just...yeah?” “Uh….” she stammers. “Yes?” He barks out a laugh before he can stop himself, something flashing through his whole body that feels a lot like love , but might just be whatever festive spirit both Emma and Henry claim exists in this realm. “That’s not much of a change, darling,” Killian says and Emma sighs, the sounds of her decidedly squeaky desk chair working through the phone. “And you need a new chair.” “We need a new everything in this office, we’ve been over that eight-hundred times.” “True,” he agrees. “That’s still not an explanation though. Why do you want me to stay home?” “Why do you want to be staying home?”

They have, apparently, reached some kind of not-quite-lie, hopefully Christmas-type stalemate. This holiday is far more trouble than he anticipated. “Killian,” Emma prompts and he needs to say something because he can still hear Snow talking and David mumbling something about tomorrow night and gifts and this is supposed to be important.

“It’s nothing,” he says, but it sounds as obvious as anything and she tuts quietly when he doesn’t immediately continue. “Just feeling a little under the weather and I don’t want to miss any of your parent’s plans tomorrow.”

It’s, naturally, not the worst lie he’s ever told.

He’s told more lies than he can even begin to fathom and this is far from the most devious.

It’s not even a particularly well-executed lie – there’s stumbling and elongated pauses and Henry’s arrived in the hallway with a knowing smile on his face and his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

It’s also quite obvious that it is, in fact, a lie.

Emma doesn’t even try to hide her scoff and Killian can feel the blush rising in his neck, the desire to tug on the hair behind his ear somewhere close to overwhelming. “That was almost painfully bad,” she mutters, but there’s still a note of amusement in her voice and a distinct lack of the overwhelmed it held just a few moments before.

“She totally figured you out, huh?” Henry asks. His attempts at whispering the question come up woefully short.

Killian shakes his head. “If you don’t need me in the station or questioning dwarves about weather patterns than I’m happy to stay home for the day, love,” he continues. “Although I think we both need to work on our excuses.” “It’s not an excuse,” Emma says. “It’s...whatever. There are no weather issues because that snowstorm thing was a total lie and Dad went to go check it out already anyway. So there’s...you know...not a ton going on here.” “Of course.” “You are infuriating when you’re all-knowing.” “I’m not anything, Swan. Except possibly learning what something called wrapping paper is.”

“Now you’ve done it,” Henry mumbles and Killian flashes him a warning look and he’s going to have bribe every single person in town so no one else learns about the present debacle.

Emma laughs, free and easy and they need to go buy things. Hours ago. “Wrapping paper, huh?” she asks and her grin is obvious even without her in front of him. “Interesting. Any particularly good patterns on this wrapping paper?” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Ah, we haven’t gotten that far in the instructional period, huh?”

“Not as such, no,” Killian answers, taking a step out of the room and pushing lightly on Henry’s shoulders until they’re both moving back down the hallway. “But I’m sure we’ll get to that part of the rules eventually.” She’s quiet for a moment and Killian freezes, halfway between tugging on one boot and hoping his keys are still in his jacket pocket. “What?” he asks.

“I just...I mean there aren’t rules to this, you know. It’s not like I’m…” Killian waits for the rest of the sentence, but it doesn't come and his legs are starting to ache from crouching. “Swan?”

“I mean presents are good, but you know we didn’t really talk about gifts and you don’t have to…” “I want to,” Killian corrects. She probably scrunches her nose. She absolutely scrunches her nose. Henry makes some kind of vaguely insulted face.

It’s silent for another moment, save for the very squeaky, absolutely torturous chair behind Emma’s desk. He refuses to sit in it.

He can hear her sigh softly, but it doesn’t sound disappointed, it sounds a bit surprised and, perhaps, just a little hopeful and it makes his chest ache because they’ve waited for this and wanted this and there need to be presents.

He’s going to buy her a present come hell or high water.

And he’s already been to hell.

This, by comparison, should be relatively easy.

“See, saying things like that out loud is just absolutely unfair,” Emma says. Killian’s heel pops into his boot. “What am I supposed to think about for the rest of the day?” He grins. Henry gags. “Hopefully that,” Killian admits. And that time David might gag. Maybe Henry should just go shopping with David.

“Ah, that was even worse.” “You’re telling me these things like they’re an insult, Swan. I’m failing to see that point of view at all. It all seems almost romantic.” “Almost,” she echoes and his keys are still in his pocket. Henry is practically sprinting out the door. “You really don’t have to come in today. We’ve got everything taken care of and I’m just going to get caught up on some paperwork while things are still quiet.” “You’ve told me several times I don’t have to come in today, love, I understand.”

He doesn’t move – dimly aware that the wind will pick up on his phone and he’s already told enough Christmas lies for one day – and Emma hums distractedly at the explanation. “Right, right,” she says. “And, you know, paperwork. Lots of it.” Killian doesn’t have any magic, at least not anymore, but actual centuries spent on the Jolly Roger left him with a fairly strong sense of reading people , particularly insubordinate crewmembers with visions of mutiny and control and while he might not consider himself Captain Hook anymore, he hasn't completely lost the talent.

And Emma Swan, savior and princess and the love his very long life, isn’t planning a mutiny is, but she is, quite clearly, up to something.

He’d finished all the paperwork two days before.

“Right,” Killian agrees, curiosity lingering in the back corner of his mind even when he knew he didn’t have time for an interrogation over the phone. “Paperwork.”

Emma makes another noise and he can hear it for the dismissal it absolutely is. “Exactly,” she says, snapping her jaw on the word. “So, uh….I’m going to go do that and you’re going to stay home and probably read, like, twenty books.” “Seems rather ambitious, don’t you think, love?” “The paperwork or the books?” “Either or.” She laughs softly before the chair squeaks again and she’s standing, the sound of her boots echoing off the walls of the otherwise uneventful office. “I’ll see you later,” Emma says. “For movies and hot chocolate.” “I look forward to it, Swan.” “Yeah, me too. I love you.”

He’s lost track of the number of times she’s said it now – the words that were, at one point, some kind of insurmountable challenge now seem to just roll out of her as easy as breathing and just as important – but the sentence never fails to make his heart stutter and his breath catch and Killian swallows before he responds.

“I love you too,” he says and it feels bigger than that because there are traditions to be started and presents to be bought and it’s going to be easy to find exactly what she deserves.

It is, Killian is loathe to find out, not easy to find...anything in the middle of Storybrooke with only a few hours before Christmas.

It is, he’s discovering, close to impossible.

And it is, possibly, because he’s so goddamn picky.

At least that’s what Henry tells him when they leave the one clothing story Storybrooke has to offer with nothing in hand and no idea where to go next.

“You’re really horrible at this, you know that?” Henry asks, all judgement and little suggestion just a few steps removed from the store windows that are decorated with something, apparently, called garland. “That one jacket wasn’t that bad.” Killian runs his hand through his hair, frustration sinking into every inch of him and they’re running out of places to go. The one store that particularly cheerful dwarf runs filled with knick-knacks and, what Henry referred to as tourist stuff, was a waste of nearly forty-five minutes and the idea of recreating his first date with Emma seemed to personally offend his stepson and, now, the clothing store was also a failure, with apparel that didn’t just seem impractical for this realm, it felt far too similar to what was going to land on their doorstep on December 29th.

Hopefully.

If whatever magic that made sure the packages got where there were supposed to go decided to do its job.

“That one jacket wouldn’t have lasted a single crisis here,” Killian argues. “The stitching was coming undone right in front of us. I’m surprised it didn’t simply fall apart in my hand.” Henry raises his eyebrows at him, what looks like several dozen questions waiting to be asked at the same time sitting on the tip of his tongue. Killian waits. And he’s not disappointed. “How do you know that?” Henry asks, voice picking up and he barely gets one word out before he starts on the next one. “Did you...do you know people who made clothes? Like the shoemaker?” Killian narrows his eyes and Henry makes a slightly disappointed noise. “You know with the elves,” he says as if that’s a clue.

“I’ve never encountered a single elf,” Killian says. “Although there were rumors about a land outside of the Enchanted Forest where the elves there made impenetrable armor. That always seemed rather appealing.” “Did you ever go there?” Henry’s eyes widen to an almost comical size and Killian flashes him a grin, never one to turn down a captivated audience.

“I’m not sure there was much truth to it, my boy. Just an old story to keep sailors occupied at night. After all, there’s something to be said for pillaging when you can’t be injured.” Henry nods quickly, eyes still wide and Killian rests his hand on his shoulder. “You know, elves are a pretty big part of Christmas too.” “That so?” “Yeah, I mean, they’re not making armor for pirates, but they help make the toys. Or at least that’s what parents tell their kids when they’re younger.” Killian tilts his head and there is, apparently, far more to this Christmas event than he originally realized. “Ah, we didn’t get to Miracle on 34th Street yet, did we? Well, when we’re little, parents here tell their kids that if they’re good then Santa will bring them presents.” “And Santa is...also an elf?” “No, no, no, he’s some guy.” “Some guy?” Killian repeats skeptically and the storytelling tables seem to have turned rather abruptly. Henry shrugs, as if that’s an appropriate answer. “So what you’re telling me is that fabrications are part of Christmas?” “What?”

“Parents are lying to their children to get them to behave. This Santa fellow, he doesn’t really exist does he?” “At this point I wouldn’t be surprised if he did in some other realm, honestly,” Henry admits, shrugging again and Killian is momentarily worried about the state of his neck before his eyes catch sight of something yellow and a flash of red and he swears he can hear her boots crunching on the snow.

“Bloody hell,” Killian growls, moving his hand away from Henry’s shoulder to tug on his wrist and he’s dimly aware of a disgruntled jeez, Killian you’re going to dislocate my arm before they’re moving into the alley behind the store.

They’re a mess of stumbling feet and twisted up limbs and he tries to keep his left arm pinned to his side in an attempt to avoid some other catastrophe. Henry gapes at him like he’s lost his mind, mouth open and questions threatening, but he snaps his jaw shut when he hears the voices moving across the street – directly onto the sidewalk they were just standing on.

“I’m just saying,” Snow says and it doesn’t sound like it’s the first time she’s tried to make her point. Emma’s breathing gets a little louder, footsteps falling with a bit more determination as if she’s trying to work out some residual energy and Killian bites back a smile.

Paperwork. Of course.

“Yeah, well, I’m just saying,” Emma argues. Henry slams his hand over his mouth so he doesn’t start laughing. “Mom, this needs to be good. It can’t just be…”

She stops talking and, by the sound of it, stops walking and Snow mutters something that sounds like a question. “Those are recent,” Snow says. “And moving back into the alley. Why would anyone be going back there?”

Killian rolls his eyes skyward, trying to keep his breathing as quiet as possible and his frustration as low as possible, but both seem decidedly impossible because, apparently, Christmas Eve exists only to test his patience.

He widens his eyes towards Henry when he feels an elbow in his side and they both try to occupy the same four feet of slightly shadowed space.

“Do you think they know it’s us?” Henry whispers and he shakes his head, determined to will it into being because he absolutely wants to believe it.

Emma clicks her tongue a few feet away. “Yeah,” she mutters. “Why would anyone want to be in this alley? You think there’s a door to the store back there?” Snow doesn’t answer and Killian barely hears Henry’s frantic oh shit before he’s the one being pulled further down the alley, Emma’s footsteps echoing in his ears because, of course, she’s come to investigate.

She probably went to double check on the weather reports in the woods herself.

Killian makes a mental note to discuss that with David at some point tomorrow.

They barely make it around the corner – and Killian only has half a chance to thank several deities that this alley connected to something – when some other voice calls for Emma and she mumbles what sounds like several increasingly creative curses under her breath before marching away.

“Do not repeat those,” Killian mumbles, glancing meaningfully at Henry whose shoulders are shaking with silent laughter.

“That’s exactly what you were saying this morning,” Henry contends. “Mom learned that one about King Triton from you. That’s something she just knew.” “Even so.” Henry smiles. “So...uh, you guys are just both great, big liars, huh? Mom out with Grandma and thinking people are trying to break into Modern Fashions.”

“That just means we need to be better at covering our tracks. Quite literally.” “And you want to go bribe that cashier some more to make sure that he doesn’t tell Mom it was us out here, right?”

Killian nods deftly and Henry might mutter I knew it when they duck around another corner and back in front of the store – only to find Emma and Snow already inside. “Gods,” he sighs, dimly aware of how much he’s tugging on his hair when his scalp starts to ache.

“I don’t know that he’s going to be silenced with a few doubloons,” Henry says.

“I’m not actually carrying any doubloons right now.” “Well then that guy is totally going to tell Mom and Grandma we were in there like...five minutes ago.”

Killian hums, that frustration he was trying so desperately to avoid feeling as if it’s actually slinking down his spine. “What do you say to some fries? And possibly pie?”

“Fries and pie?” “Fries and pie.” “Milkshakes?” “Fries and pie.”

Henry deflates slightly, but Emma and Snow are walking back towards the door and they don’t really have much of a choice except sprinting back across the street and skidding into Granny’s with enough force that they nearly take out a waitress.

“What the hell do you two think you’re doing?” Granny shouts, hands on his and eyebrows pulled low and Henry, immediately, blushes. “You’re going to pull my door off its hinges.” “Sorry, Granny,” Henry mutters, scuffing the toe of his shoe on the linoleum floor at the same time Killian tilts his head and says “Apologies, ma’am.”

Granny’s eyes flit across them, like she’s taking stock or inventory or, just possibly, reading their minds. It’s most likely the last one. “Fries or pie?” she asks, moving her hands away from her hips to cross her arms over her chests.

“We were thinking both,” Killian answers. Granny’s eyebrows shoot into her hairline and one side of her mouth twitches slightly.

“Ah,” she says as if everything about this incredibly hectic holiday suddenly makes sense. “So the rumors were true then.” Henry groans, taking a step towards the counter and sinking onto one of the open stools. He spins on the spot. Killian tries not to actually rip his hair out.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, ma’am,” he says instead, taking up residence on his own stool and grabbing a menu like it’s changed since the first time he stepped into the restaurant. “We’re simply looking for some fries and pie. Whatever most recently came out of the oven.” Granny’s mouth moves again. “Yuh huh.”

“You’re out of ketchup,” Killian says, tapping one finger on the empty glass bottle in front of him.

“Yuh huh.” Henry stops spinning, resting both elbows on the counter and his chin on his hands. “Did somebody rat us out, Granny?” “Depends on what you two are trying to hide, I suppose.”

“Somebody totally ratted us out. Was it Happy?” He glances towards Killian and the stool squeaks nearly as much as Emma’s office chair. “I told you we should have offered to buy all the dwarves drinks for the rest of the week.”

Granny throws her whole head back when she laughs, drawing a few suspicious stare and Killian does his best to melt into the ground. “Are your bribing the people of Storybrooke, Captain? In pursuit of gifts?” “Bribe is a very strong word,” Killian says and Granny’s laugh, somehow, gets even louder. “Suggested at most.”

“Naturally. While brandishing that hook of yours?”

“There were no threats involved.” “Only because we haven’t seen Leroy yet,” Henry adds. Granny smiles, placing two steaming mugs in front of both of them and maybe she’s the one with lingering magic because Killian hadn’t even noticed her move. “But it’s still fairly early.” “Your certainty that this isn’t going to work is disheartening, lad,” Killian says. “And if we’re all going to be so honest, it should be acknowledged that you haven’t found anything to gift either.”

He glances meaningfully at Granny, her lips pressed together tightly and tilted down slightly and they’re probably not ever going to get any pie. “We both agreed we didn’t want to buy that touristy stuff,” Henry mutters, hissing when he takes a gulp of whatever the scalding liquid in the cup is. Probably hot chocolate.

“Where else have you two been today?” Granny asks. “The last I heard you were trying to get Bella Note to open up on Christmas Day.” Killian rolls his eyes. “That’s not what I was trying to do at all.” “Seems like cheating to just repeat the one date you have been on, don’t you think, Captain?”

Henry snorts into his hot chocolate.

“It is not cheating,” Killian says, but it might have been and that coat that was supposed to show up on their doorstep was perfect. It was warm and red and, admittedly too expensive, Henry’s certainty that Mom’s going to freak when she sees how much that cost ringing in his ears, but it was exactly what Emma needed and she was never going to get it for herself.

Her current coat was in worse distress than the one in that shop.

“And all of these ideas were mostly born out of something a bit closer to…” “Lack of present panic?” Granny asks archly, tugging the menu out of his hand.

“Something like that.”

“The cherry pie came out of the oven not even twenty minutes before both of you barreled in here. It may still be warm.”

“And fries too?” Henry asks. His mug is empty.

Granny reaches out, patting his cheek. He doesn’t try to pull away. “Fries too,” she promises. “And you may want to think a less outside the box on this one, Captain. You’ve missed some very important courting lessons in this realm.” He knows his eyes do something and it’s probably a bit closer to impolite than it should be, considering the woman in front of him is, presumably, going to get them pie and fries and, hopefully, keep their shopping secret.

They stare at each other for a breath before Henry makes some kind of noise that more resembles the sea monsters their entire family was determined to curse earlier in the day. “Jewelry,” he groans. “She’s talking about jewelry. God, how did we not think of that? It’s almost too in character.”

“I’m not quite in the habit of buying jewels,” Killian says, flashing a smile and a quick eyebrow shift towards Granny when she scoffs. “Seems like cheating don’t you think, ma’am?”

She leans forward and for half a moment he thinks she’s going to refill his now-cold mug of hot chocolate. She doesn’t. She flicks her fingers against his shoulder.

“Not when you’re discussing Christmas presents for your wife, pirate,” Granny says. “And, most importantly, not when you’re distinctly lacking on the present front. You are, after all, under a bit of a time crunch.” “It’s not a bad idea,” Henry shrugs. “I mean...maybe a little rom-com, but you know…” Killian narrows his eyes. “Rom-com.” “When Harry Met Sally, all those Reese Witherspoon movies Mom likes but won’t admit to, anything Grandma would watch ever.” “Ah.” “The sparklier the better, Captain,” Granny says, now with two plates in her hand and she must know how to teleport. There’s usually smoke involved. Killian is not surprised that she, apparently, doesn’t need it. “We’re back to that then?” She shrugs and a waitress puts down a third plate, fries sitting in a small pool of grease that seems to thrill Henry more than anything else that’s happened throughout the day. “Looks like you’re already wooing with even the thought of jewelry. You do have good taste. Emma’s ring was the talk of the town for weeks. Even after…” Granny cuts herself off and Killian digs his fork into the slice of pie in front of him. This needed to be perfect. “The sparklier the better, you say?” he asks and Granny’s shoulders shift when she takes a deep breath.

She puts a new bottle of ketchup on the counter. “Exactly.”

They eat all of the pie and all of the fries and he’s as far away from the threatening pirate he once was because he agrees to the milkshake when Henry promises he’ll still eat dinner later. Of course he will. He’ll probably eat Emma and Killian out of the house by the New Year.

And the jewelry store at the other end of Main Street is the only option they have left.

It’s nearly going somewhere according to plan when Granny promises it’s on the house today and squeezes Henry’s shoulder and they don’t run over any other waitresses when they open the door.

They nearly run over Emma and Snow instead.

“Swan?” “Killian?” “Mom?” “Henry?” “Hey,” Snow says, waving one hand awkwardly on the step and they’re blocking the entire walkway. She’s nearly drooping under the weight of the bags she’s holding. “Happy Christmas Eve!”

Henry laughs softly, pushing around Killian to walk towards Snow, nodding towards the assortment of bags in her hands. “What are you guys doing here?” “We thought we’d get some food.” “In between stacks of paperwork?” Killian asks, eyes flitting from the bags back up towards Emma. She presses her lips together. “Is that right, Swan?”

She won’t meet his gaze, staring a hole into the tiny bit of stair that’s left with all of them still standing there. “We’re taking a break,” she says and she’s in desperate need of a new coat. “And I’m starving. And Mom was...you know, boosting the town’s entire economy in one day. It’s...we did not plan this.”

“Naturally.” “Did you guys eat?” “Pie and fries,” Henry answers immediately. Emma’s head snaps up.

“Pies and fries?” she asks. “Did you unearth some kind of world-ending evil or something?”

Killian moves before he considers it, but she’s standing there and shivering slightly and that coat really is horrendous, so his arm moves out of instinct or possibly want and he tugs Emma against his side. She rests her head on his shoulder. “I promise it’s not that serious, love,” he says, but she glances up at him in disbelief. “It’s not.” “We were just hungry,” Henry continues. “And there was new pie. Or fresh pie. What would you call still-warm pie?” “I think fresh is the correct term,” Mary Margaret says.

“Yeah, that makes sense, right?” “What are you guys doing here though?” Emma asks, pulling back to stare at Killian. “What happened to wanting to stay home?”

He shrugs and he’s clearly out of lying practice because his mind is blank save for his curiosity regarding the variety of colors in the bags Snow is holding and why Emma came up with the paperwork story when it was so obviously false.

She widens her eyes when he doesn’t answer immediately.

“There’s only so much reading you can do in one afternoon,” Killian reasons. “And not much food at home.” Henry yelps – out of surprise or disagreement or something, but he slams his lips together when three confused stares turn towards him. “Nothing, nothing, nothing, I mean...nothing. We should probably go though.”

They are a family of horrible liars.

“Go?” Emma repeats. The door to Granny’s is still open. She’s shouting about heating costs. “Where do you guys have to go?” “Home,” Killian and Henry say at the same time and he breathes a silent sigh of relief that they said the same thing.

Snow nods as if that’s the absolute truth, but Emma tilts her head, twisting to stare at both of them. It speaks volumes. “Did you two practice that or…”

“Back to the books, Swan,” Killian says. “This was just a break, right?” They’ve, quite clearly, reached another conversational impasse, but Emma is stubborn and Killian is vaguely determined and he’s not sure how much longer Snow can hold all of those bags before she does permanent damage to her fingers.

“So, uh…” Henry wavers. “We going to go or….” “Aye,” Killian says, pressing a kiss to the top of Emma’s head and she’s wearing one of those hats she’s so fond of when it turns colder. She twists to look back up at him, like she’s trying to read his mind or figure out who he’s spoken to that day. “I’d suggest the pie, Swan,” he adds, pulling his hand down to squeeze her hip and she nips at his lip when he kisses her.

“Our refrigerator is filled with food,” Emma whispers.

He’s fairly convinced his blood runs cold. Until he remembers. He kisses her again before he speaks – because, at least in some things, he’s still a selfish pirate.

“I finished all the paperwork two days ago,” Killian says, resting his forehead on hers. “And we haven’t arrested anyone recently.”

He appreciates the way Emma’s eyes widen slowly, the words taking a moment to process and Snow hisses in a breath of air. Henry is halfway down the sidewalk already.

“I’ll see you at home, Swan,” he grins, turning to take a step and he nearly trips over himself when he feels a tug on the front of his jacket.

She kisses him that time.

“I’ll see you later,” Emma mumbles, the hint of a smile still on her mouth when she doesn’t pull away to talk.

She closes Granny’s door behind her when she walks into the restaurant, questions about apple pie lingering in the air behind her.

They have to circle through another alley because, for some reason Killian can no longer remember, they’re trying to do all of this in secret, but they make it to the jewelry store eventually and the dwarf that runs that particular shop because it can’t be part of the Storybrooke economy if a dwarf is not explicitly involved.

He’s sleeping when they open the door.

“Gods,” Killian groans and Henry slams the door closed a bit louder than necessary. The dwarf jumps off his chair, hands thrown into the air like he’s preparing to defend himself against some unseen enemy and he actually gasps when he sees who’s standing in the doorway.

“You really can’t threaten him,” Henry cautions. “We’ve got to actually buy something before we go home.” Killian nods, pressing his hand flat on Henry’s back and pushing him forward. The dwarf drops back onto the chair, yawning every other breath and this is already a disaster.

“Can...ah...can I help you Captain Jones?” he asks, drawing a snicker out of Henry. “Are you looking for something in particular for the princess?” In the weeks and months after the Final Battle, the majority of Storybrooke seemed to find some almost happy medium between their current selves and their Enchanted Forest selves, a change that left most of the population referring to Killian as Captain and Emma as Princess and it’s both jarring and slightly unexpected and it regularly makes Emma blush.

Killian blinks once while his brain tries to remember that princess is, in fact, the same woman who lied about paperwork and bit at his lip. Henry elbows him – if they don’t keep talking the blasted dwarf is going to fall asleep.

“We want to buy something for my mom,” Henry answers. “It should be sparkly.” “Or so we’ve been reliably informed,” Killian says, taking a step towards the cases in front of them and he can’t quite mask the disappointed sound that seems to fall out of him.

Henry hums in agreement. “Not very piratical, huh?” “I’ll admit I’ve seen more impressive treasure before.”

The dwarf almost looks offended, but it’s gone in a yawn and a few fluttering eyelashes and Henry raps his knuckles on the glass case. “What about a necklace? That red one’s not bad. It’d almost match the jacket whenever that decides to show up.” Killian considers that for a moment, examining the necklace through the pane of glass, but it’s not quite sparkly and the only necklace he’s ever seen Emma wear wasn’t for particularly good reasons. “What about ear bobs?” he counters and Henry lifts his hands in unspoken question. “Jewels for her ears.” “Earrings?” “If you say so.”

Henry rolls his eyes, tapping on the glass again. “Those ones,” he says, nodding towards the diamond pieces in the corner of the case.

The dwarf has fallen asleep.

Killian’s whole body sags forward when he groans and Henry can’t even bring himself to laugh over the absurdity of it all. It takes less than a full second for Killian to decide he’s tired of it all.

Not tired enough to simply fall asleep, but...that’s beside the point.

“You didn’t watch this happen,” Killian says, jumping over the small barrier just to the side of the case. The lock is relatively simple and it only takes a few twists of his wrist and two attempts with the tip of his hook until he hears the telltale click.

Henry beams at him.

The earrings aren’t really all that sparkly – even in the lighting of the shop reflecting off the stones as soon as Killian pulls them out of the case. He and Henry stare at them for what feels like several Christmases, but they don’t change or, suddenly, feel like the perfect gift.

He’s not so sure the jacket was the perfect gift either.

It’s a holiday disaster on a holiday he’s only slightly certain he understands.

“Yeah,” Henry breathes. “Doesn’t really scream, Mom, does it?” Killian shakes his head, disappointment settling on his shoulders like a particularly heavy fog. Maybe that’s what was lurking in the woods on the edge of town. “As much as I’d like to believe that your mother would be interested in receiving jewels as a gift, I can’t see her truly enjoying these...earrings?” Henry chuckles lightly, nodding quickly. “Earrings,” he confirms. “Yeah. It should be more...her. Especially from you.” “Exactly.” “Do you have a specific pirate-type curse for pirates who can’t find good Christmas gifts for their savior wives?” “I don’t,” Killian says, running his hand through his hair before returning the earrings to their spot in the case. “Unfortunately.” “I mean it’s kind of a specific emergency.” “That it is.”

Henry huffs out an exhale, closing his eyes lightly and the dwarf is still asleep. Killian considers his options and he’s going to have to just tell Emma about the apparent ignorance of whatever a distribution center is, but the feeling leaves him decidedly dejected and this is not the idyllic holiday he’s been led to believe Christmas is.

There are far too many films about it for it to be anything except perfect.

They deserve a bit of perfect.

Henry’s eyes open, flitting towards a gold strand, twisted into a delicately intricate pattern and, well, that’s perfect.

“We’ll leave the money,” Killian says, answering a question Henry hasn’t asked yet.

“What?”

He smiles, tugging on his back pocket to grab the clip Emma bought him when she realized he was actually carrying funds in a bag he kept inside his jacket. “Is there a tag on it? Or some indication of how much it costs?” “You don’t...you don’t have to do that.” Killian’s already pulling the piece of metal towards them, certain the tale of how red Henry’s face has turned will entertain Emma for most of the evening. “It’s done,” Killian says, tossing a wad of bills on top of the glass. “Should we leave a note?” “Probably.”

“Aye, you’re right. We don’t need all seven of the dwarves raiding our home later.” “That’s very practical.” They write a note on the back of a receipt they find stuffed into the corner behind the register an Henry adds a lot of exclamation points and underlines and Killian has, more or less, resigned himself to coming home empty-handed when he closes the door to the glass case.

It squeaks.

And he suddenly knows what he can get Emma.

“You look like you’ve just invented the lightbulb,” Henry says. “Or just realized how much we overpaid for that bracelet.” Killian shakes his head, mind racing and heart racing and this is going to work. “Neither. And we paid what we should have.” “So….what’s happening right now then?” “I know what to get Emma.” Henry’s eyebrows jump and his mouth turns down, lower lip jutted out slightly in a way that is almost too familiar. “How quickly do you think Marco can work?” Henry shrugs. “Probably depends on how much money you’re willing to overpay him.” “Plenty.” “And you know...if you tell him it’s for Mom he’ll probably do it for free.” “Come on,” Killian says, jumping back over the barrier and they leave the note with the still-sleeping dwarf.

They’re going to save Christmas.

#cs ff #captain swan ff #captain swan #cs #cs fic #itttc #csss17 #there is so much captain cobra banter in this #like a ton #laura writes canon

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imaginetonyandbucky · 7 years

Note

Ghost Tony haunting an apartment in Brooklyn, and Bucky and Steve move in.

[A/N: I am blaming at least 12% of this on @captn-sara-holmes.]

WhenTony woke up, he was a ghost.

Hishands, when he looked down at them, were sort of translucent-looking,like they’d been etched into glass, and so was the rest of him thathe could see. Everything around him was colorless and pale.

Yep.Definitely a ghost.

“Goddamn it, that son of a bitch killedme?For fifty bucks and a bunch of credit cards that won’t work forhim? Ug. All right, let’s just get on with it, then. Bright light,angel choir, magic door, stairway to heaven, whatever. Come on, let’sgo.”

Tonylooked around, but all he could see was an alley -- the same alleythat the mugger had dragged him into. “Unending darkness?”

Hetried to walk out of the alley and couldn’t. It didn’t hurt andthere was no sensation of a barrier, just... his body wouldn’tcross the line made by the facades of the buildings on either side.

“Highwayto hell?”

Nothing.

Someonewas coming down the main street. Tony pushed as close as he could tothe mouth of the alley to look -- it was a man near Tony’s age,tall and blond and built like a brick shithouse. Hewouldn’tget yanked into an alley and murdered by a mugger. Tony called, “Hi!Hello? I just woke up as a ghost and I’m stuck; can you call theghostbusters for me?” Officially, they were CPSR -- the Center forParanormal Study and Relief -- but nobody called them that.

Blond-and-buffjust kept walking.

“Hello?”

Notso much as a glance. Asshole. Even if it wasn’t his fault that Tonywas apparently invisible and inaudible.

Ifno one called CPSR for him, Tony was stuck waiting for one of theregular sweeps and hoping that they were paying attention to theirdetection equipment rather than half-assing it. Tony tried to kick ata discarded energy drink can, and his foot swiped right through it.“Are you kiddingme?”he whined. “I’m stuck and I’m not even corporeal?”

Hepouted, but he’d never been very good at wallowing. It didn’tlast long before he’d decided to find out how much movement he wasallowed, and what he coulddo.

[mobile readers, ‘ware the readmore!]

Buckywas sweating like a glass of ice-water at high noon in July, only alot less refreshing than that. But at least they’d finally gottenall their furniture and boxes moved into the apartment. At least itwas a first-floor apartment and they hadn’t had to lug everythingup several flights of stairs. All that was left was unpacking, andthat could wait until later.

Much,much later.

Beforethat, he was going to order a couple of pizzas and fall onto thecouch to watch a movie -- they didn’t have cable or internet hookedup yet, but the Blu-ray player ought to work just fine.

Ittook him a few minutes to find the box where they’d thrown all thecables, and the aging player actually threw a couple of sparks at himwhen he plugged it in, but finally, he got it all hooked up. Jesus,it was a lot of work, being lazy.

Buckyflipped on the TV and the Blu-ray menu appeared, then flickered andwas overlaid with a partly-transparent picture of a man who seemed tobe examining the inside of the TV. He was strikingly handsome, thoughsomewhat marred by the disgusted purse of his lips. “Are youkidding me?” the man said. “Two months, I’ve waited for someoneto take this apartment, and this piece of shit is the best they’vegot?”

Buckycould only stare for a moment, and then he called, “Steve! I thinkwe’ve got a ghost!”

“Wait,you can see me like this?” the ghost said, suddenly looking out ofthe TV at Bucky.

“Goddamn it,” Steve growled from his bedroom, where he had insisted ontrying to put his bed together immediately instead of putting it offfor a day or three like a normal person. As if either of them hadseen any action recently enough to need a bed. “The bastard hadbetter be friendly; we can’t afford to bring the ghostbusters in.”

“Ihave a name,” the ghost pointed out testily. “It’s Tony. Why amIthebastard when I’m the one who got killed? If anyone should be calleda bastard, it’s the asshole who killed me! Anyway, the ghostbustersare a free service!”

“Sure,they’re free,” Steve said, stomping out of the bedroom to glareat the ghost in the TV, “but have you seenthekind of wreckage they leave behind? We justmovedin! If we get the place slimed or destroy a wall with particle beamburns--”

“Ohmy god, you’re thatguy,”Tony interrupted, rolling his eyes. “The one who couldn’t seemeevenwhen I was waving and shouting. Ug, and here I thought things werelooking up.”

Tonywasn’t a malevolentghost,but “friendly” didn’t quite fit the bill, either. He seemed tohave some sort of grudge against Steve, in particular.

Thefirst time that Steve was in the shower and Tony manifested in hisshower radio to sing along (badly) with Steve’s terrible oldies,Steve let out a shriek that could probably be heard three blocksaway.

Stevecouldn’t turn on his phone to make a call without Tony popping upto ask if he was finally going to call the ghostbusters.

Everytime they sat down to watch TV, Tony was there, more transparent thanusual but an obvious and distracting outline on the screen.

“Okay,I can’t take this anymore,” Tony complained when the Blu-Rayplayer sparked, making the TV screen flicker. “Buckaroo, go getyour toolkit.”

“Howare you going to tell him how to fix it?” Steve wondered. “Don’tyou have to leave the TV when we turn it off?”

Tonywinked out of sight. “Thank you for volunteering your laptop,” hesaid from Steve’s laptop across the room. Tony’s face replacedSteve’s screensaver. He was grinning toothily, and Bucky had tosuppress a laugh at Steve’s affronted noise.

“Youare such an asshole,”Steve grumbled, stomping out of the room.

“Youcould just call the ghostbusters and be rid of me!” Tony calledafter him.

“Ithink he’s starting to like you, actually,” Bucky said, carryingthe laptop over to the coffee table.

“Morelike he’s keeping me around to torment me,” Tony complained. “Iwant this taken into account when I’m facing my eternal judgment.”

Buckylaughed. “Sure,” he teased, “Steve might be worth knocking offa few millennia, but what about the privilege of getting to hang outwith me?”

“You’rethe worst torment of all, hot stuff,” Tony shot back. “Now comeon, get your pliers. There’s a loose wire in there, and a corrodedbolt, and then I’ll talk you through a quick-and-dirty way to fix aloose circuit board.”

“Youasshole, that’s barely a sip,” Tony complained when Bucky put themug on the table in front of Steve’s laptop.

“Youmanage this, and I’ll get you all you want,” Bucky promised. Heowed Tony something;the ghost had talked Bucky through a dozen different repairs over thelast couple of weeks. “I just don’t want to have to clean up awhole mug’s worth if you pick it up and then lose it again.”

Tonydisappeared from the laptop, then came back a minute later. “Ican’t,” he whined. “My hand just goes right through it, everytime.”

“Youhave to reallywant it.”Bucky strained to remember the basic lessons he’d gotten in highschool health, but no one ever paid attention during the IfYou Become a Ghostunit.

“Oh,believe me, I’d diefora cup of coffee right now,” Tony said.

Buckyflicked a crumpled-up napkin at the computer screen for the joke.“Come on, try again.”

Tonydisappeared for longer this time. Bucky was still staring at the mugand willing it to move when the key rattled in the door and Stevecame in. “Heya, Buck, what’s going on?”

“We’reworking on trying to get Tony to access the material plane,” Buckysaid.

Steveleaned over Bucky’s shoulder to look. “With coffee?Do we really want our ghost to be caffeinated?”

Tonypopped back onto the laptop screen. “Fuck you, Rogers,” he said.He sounded frustrated. “Caffeine doesn’t affect ghosts. It’spsychological.”

“Wait,it’s the coffeeyouwant, not the mug,” Bucky said. “Can you drink the coffee withouttryingto lift the mug?”

“Thatsounds messy,” Steve said, but he dropped onto the couch next toBucky to watch the experiment in action.

Tonymade another face. “I guess I can shove my face through the muginstead of my hand and see what happens. At least you won’t be ableto see me look like an idiot.”

“Everytime you show up,” Steve said, smirking.

Tonyflipped Steve off and disappeared again.

Themug still didn’t move, but Bucky leaned forward to watch. “Comeon, come on, come on,” he muttered under his breath.

Ittook almost five minutes of breath-holding suspense, but all at once,the level of coffee in the mug dipped. “Oh my god,”Tony said, falling into the laptop screen with a blissed-out sigh.

“Yes!You did it!” Bucky cheered, and put his fist against the laptopscreen for Tony to bump.

“Andnow he’ll be stealing coffee from us all the time,” Steve said,though he looked more amused than annoyed. “Why would you do this,Buck?”

“Justyours, Rogers,” Tony said, grinning. “I’ve seen the sludge ofsugar and milk that Buckaroo dumps in his mug. Gross.”

Brockwalked Bucky home after their third date and crowded him up againstthe door to kiss him good night. That was good, that was brilliant,so he invited Brock in for coffee.

Buckytried not to grin too stupidly when Brock agreed.

Theymade out on the couch for a while, and Bucky was aching blissfullywhen Brock reached for the remote. “Let’s have a littlebackground noise, yeah?”

“No,wait, you--”

“Well,well, well, and who have we here?”

“--don’twant to do that,” Bucky sighed, dropping his head into his hands.

Brocknarrowed his eyes at the TV screen. “You have a ghost?”

“Ormaybe the ghost has him,” Tony shot back.

“Ignorehim,” Bucky told Brock. “Or better yet, just turn the TV backoff.” Tony still hadn’t mastered turning the TV on by himself ,and while he couldmanifestin their cell phones, he really hated being confined to so small ascreen.

Brockmade a noise. It wasn’t a happy one. “But he’d still be here,”Brock pointed out. “Watching.I don’t think I’m down for that.”

Buckythrew a glare in Tony’s direction. “Can I walk you home?” heoffered. Maybe, as long as they weren’t here...

“Nah.Mood’s gone.” Brock started straightening his clothes, stuffinghis wallet and keys back into his pockets. “Maybe next time,sweetcheeks.”

Whenhe was gone, Bucky flopped onto the couch and snarled in Tony’sdirection. “I hope you’re happy, asshole.”

“Idon’t like him,” Tony said. “There’s something wrong withhim. No one is that ruggedly handsome in real life. He’s got to bea spy or a serial killer or something.”

“He’snot a spy!” Bucky yelled, frustrated and angry. Why was Tony beingsuch a dick?“Just-- stay the fuck out of my love life!”

“Fine!”Tony sneered.

“Good!”

“Fine!”Tonydisappeared from the TV before Bucky could turn it off, and theflicker of the screen as he left somehow managed to convey a slammingdoor.

Tonydidn’t come back.

Buckytook to leaving the TV on all the time, by way of invitation.Nothing.

Aweek later, Bucky mentioned it to Steve. “You haven’t heard fromTony lately, have you?”

Stevehummed thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. Why? You two have alovers’ spat?”

“Ifonly it was that simple,” Bucky muttered. He didn’t know why Tonyhad been so touchy and weird about Brock, but he felt oddly guiltyfor their argument.

“Maybehe finally Moved On,” Steve suggested.

Oh,god. Had that argument been the last time he had seen Tony? A pang ofregret slithered around his spine to curl, cold and heavy, in hisstomach.

“Youwish,”Tony said.

Bothof them whirled to face the TV, but Tony lingered only long enough toturn his nose up at Steve, and then faded away again. He hadn’teven lookedatBucky.

Buckydidn’t see Tony for another two weeks after that. He would haveworried, except that every few days, he’d hear Tony’s voice --talking to Steve.

Stevewas infuriatingly calm about it when Bucky asked him. “Tony sayshe’s giving you space,” Steve said. “He says that’s what youwanted.”

“Ididn’t mean I wanted to never see him!”

Steveeyed Bucky thoughtfully. “I think Tony’s right about Brock. Imean, not that he’s a spy, but I think the guy is bad news.”

“Ohmy god, can you both give it a rest?Jesus,isn’t a guy allowed to get laid once in a while?”

Brockactually turned up at the apartment the morning after Bucky broke upwith him, the fucknut.

Buckydidn’t even want to listen. It had turned out that Brock was one ofthose alt-right assholes who thought fascism was actually the bestway to run a society. No matter how great Brock was in the sack,there was no getting past that bullshit. Bucky clutched at his mug ofcoffee and wondered if he was pissed enough to throw it right inBrock’s face.

Ofcourse, Brock wasn’t so much pleading with Bucky to take him backas being vaguely threatening about Bucky’s poor life choices, whichwas definitely not endearing him to Bucky at all.

Bucky’smug suddenly got lighter. Before he could process that, a spray ofcoffee appeared out of thin air to drench Brock.

Buckycouldn’t help it: he laughed. “Guess my ghost doesn’t like yourattitude, either,” he said.

WhileBrock was still sputtering, Bucky pushed him the two steps needed toget him out the door, and firmly closed the door in his face. Andthen locked it for good measure.

“Doesthis mean you’re talking to me again?” Bucky wondered hopefully.

TheTV flickered, and Tony was there, arms crossed and lips pursed in apetulant pout. “I told you he was no good,” Tony said.

Buckywas too relieved to see him again to be annoyed. “Yeah, you did.”

Everythingwent back to normal after that, except that Tony and Steve seemed tobe getting along better. Steve even left a mug of coffee on thecounter for Tony in the mornings, when he got up for his daily run,and Tony had stopped tormenting Steve just for the fun of it.

Buckyhadn’t found anyone else to date, but that was okay; he and Steveand Tony kicked around the apartment and played dumb games together.And then when Steve started seeing a woman he worked with, it wasjust Bucky and Tony hanging out, and that was fun, too.

“Youdon’t think it’s too weird, do you?” he asked Natasha one daywhen they met for lunch. “That I’m friends with the ghost?”

“Justbecause he’s a ghost doesn’t mean he’s not a person,” Natashasaid. “It’s a little weird, maybe, but it’s good of you to keephim company. No one ever Moved On because they were bored, you know?”

Buckydidn’t mention the way the thought of Tony Moving On made hisstomach cramp into knots. Having a ghost for a friend was only alittle weird. Having a crushona ghost... that was probably taking things too far.

Theknock at the door was strident and official-sounding. Bucky and Steveexchanged a startled glance, and then Steve went to open the door.

“Ohmy god,” Bucky groaned. The fucking ghostbusters. It had beenmonths,and nowtheywere doing a sweep?

“Goodafternoon,” the ‘buster said. She was a petite redhead, and Buckywas frankly amazed that she wasn’t staggering under the weight ofthe proton pack strapped to her back. “We’re from CPSR. Are yougentlemen aware that you have a ghost on-site?” Her partner lookedlike the sort of no-nonsense career ‘buster that they put onposters. He didn’t say anything, but nodded tersely as Stevestepped back to let them in.

“No,”Bucky said, at the same moment Steve said, “Yes.”

Stevegave Bucky a raised eyebrow, and Bucky sighed. “Yeah, okay, buthe’s kind of a friend. Can’t we keep him a little longer?”

Theguy tugged a sweeper out of his pocket and thumbed it on. “I’mnot saying we’re sticklers for the rules,” he told Bucky, “butit’s my experience that they usually wanttoMove On.” He pushed a glowing blue button, and a pale lightilluminated the room, showing Tony standing right in the middle ofit. “Hey, man,” the ‘buster said. “How’s it going?”

Theredhead rolled her eyes. “Jim, we’re not here for conversation.Get on with it.”

“Relax,Pepper,” Jim said. “It’s not a hostile. I’d like to getthrough just one whole day without getting slimed, if that’s okaywith you.”

Tonyfolded his arms. “Oh, sure, nowyouguys show up,” he groused. “I was just getting comfortable.” Helooked over at Steve. “Can you see me?”

Stevenodded. “You’re shorter than I expected.”

“Fuckyou, Rogers,” Tony said, but he held out a fist for Steve to bump.

Steveovershot and wound up with his fist halfway through Tony’s, whichTony found hilarious. “It’s been real, and it’s been fun,”Tony said, and Steve finished with him in chorus: “but it hasn’tbeen real fun.”

“MaybeI’ll see you again on the other side,” Steve said.

“Notif I see you first,” Tony quipped. He grinned, but it faded againas soon as he turned to Bucky. “Buck...”

“Damnit,” Bucky said, “I want to be able to hug you.” Steve droppeda reassuring hand on his shoulder. Why? Why did Tony have to Move Onnow?Of course, the longer they waited, the more it was going to hurt togive Tony up. Bucky knew that. But he still railed against it.

“Ihate to break up the moving farewells,” Jim said, “but I don’tthink we can send you On your way yet. You’re still tied--”

“Oh,for fucksake, who ever heard of a ghost who acquired UnfinishedBusiness AFTER they died?” Tony burst out.

“Actually,”Pepper tried, “it’s--”

“Okay,I’m going to do this, and then we can get on with things. Okay?Okay. Bucky, I’m sorry to do this to you.”

“Whatare you babbling about?” Bucky asked.

Tonyhuffed. “I think I’m in love with you. It’s driving me crazythat I can’t even touch you, and I managed to rescue you from thatBrock asshole, but I can’t keep you from everyone,and sooner or later you’re going to fall for someoneandthen you’ll leave me! And frankly I’d rather be gone before thathappens, so can we please shuffle me off this mortal coil or whateverbefore I die againfromembarrassment?”

“Whatwe were trying to say,” Jim said, before Bucky could recover fromthat, “was that we can’t send you On because you’re notactually dead.”

Ifit were possible for a ghost to get paler, Tony might have. Hewhirled to stare at the ghostbusters. “What?”

Buckycouldn’t come up with anything better to say, so he repeated it.“What?”

“Accordingto these readings,” Pepper said, eyes on her scanner, “you’rein a coma.”

Itwas dark, and there was a voice. Several voices, actually, but one ofthem he knew.It was that voice that drew him up out of the darkness and spun himaround until he slotted back into his body.

Hecould feelthingsagain. His toes were cold and his back ached and his neck itched.He’d forgotten what itching felt like. (If this were a movie, he’dsay something stupid like being grateful for getting to feel thatmuch, but instead, it was just annoying.)

Someonewas holding his hand. That felt pretty nice. Was it the owner of thevoice?

“...Mr.Stark? Can you hear me?” said someone irrelevant.

“Tony,come on, squeeze my fingers for me, just a little,” the voice said.

Hetried. He didn’t want the voice to give up on him and go awayagain.

“...muscleatrophy,” another irrelevant voice was saying. “So it will be alot of work to...”

Tonywanted. Tony wanted the voice to stay more than anything. Wanted toopen his eyes and see the face.

“Comeon, Tony, you can do it,” the voice said. “You have to wantit,just like before, but you can do it for me, right? I love you, baby,I’m right here, waiting for you. Don’t give up.”

Hewanted it, he neededit,more than he’d ever wanted sleep or coffee or-- He could do it. Hecould. He would.Tony wanted--

--andhis eyes opened, his hand squeezing with all his pitiful might. Infront of him were two eyes, the pale blue of a winter sky. Sothat’s what color they are,Tony thought. Then the eyes crinkled and filled with tears. Tonyblinked, re-focusing, and saw the face.

Theface that belonged to the voice. The face and the voice of the manhe’d fallen in love with, who was squeezing his hand, crying andsmiling all at once. “You did it, Tony. You’re back.” The manwhose name was--

“Bucky.”

~ @27dragons

#prompts #winteriron #tony stark #bucky barnes #tony x bucky #steve rogers #au: paranormal #i guess?#27dragons #2wayierotoro

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liebeztod · 4 years

Text

tired of being a secret

It’s been a while since I’ve craved to write. I think so many terrible things — and I mean terrible as a relative term — have happened to me that finally, it’s time to put it all down in words, rather than the confusing mess they are in my head.

I guess I stopped writing because of how terrible things got at work. And I mean, TERRIBLE. A part of me was too exhausted to write whenever I had to go about my days at BMW. I was also afraid to record anything because of the possibility of legal action I wanted to take. At this moment, I feel like those things could’ve helped me. But because of work, the depression came back. The anxiety too, and both in full force. Suddenly there was this urge to kill myself again, this desire to just… let go of the wheel and ride on into oncoming traffic. I knew I had regressed, and I was mad that work led me to this.

In May of 2019, I filed an HR report with the HR Lawyer. All because I didn’t trust Megan, our local HR Manager. And given the way things turned out, I was right not to trust her. The entire investigation lasted from May (when I filed) until October. It was so much up and down. But worst of all, everyone in my department started to ignore me. My boss, David — Mitch, Nina, and obviously Jang. It was even more stressful because of all the duties they took away from me as Center Assistance Manager. Nina’s job was eliminated, and she was given the job of SRM — but still they withheld work from me. Work that I was supposed to absorb from her. For 4 months I was without tasks — David having taken all the legal matters away from me, but never supplementing it with anything else. It was getting humiliating to beg for work — beg for Nina’s work which I had already done in the past. It wouldn’t have been a new job for me. The bigger frustration was how she had two jobs to do, and was obviously prioritizing her new one, while I was sitting at work, literally twiddling my thumbs, online shopping, looking for projects. Making up projects! The anger in me was… insurmountable. I had to start going to therapy every week. I started taking anti depressants in September, because of how fucking terrible it was to go into an office where everyone ignored me.

The worst part about it, when it ended in October, was finding out Megan told everyone to ignore me. But without letting me know that was the plan. That’s what makes me so angry, and why to this day, I still think about taking legal action. I’m not even going to say it “SEEMS” unethical for her to have done that, because at the end of the day, it isn’t seems, it WAS unethical. I’ll never forget what she did to me. Creating a hostile environment where I felt the need to seek medical help, am on anti depressants, am visiting my therapist once a week, and where my doctor finally said, “I’m taking you out of work for 8 weeks.”

I came back in February. But I guess a lot of the important things happened while I was at work.

Aside from family and friends keeping my head above the water, I dabbled in something that was probably one of my greater shames. Going into it, I knew it was wrong. And coming out of it, I told myself, “That was wrong, and you never should have done it.” But I did do it, and all because I wanted some sort of reprieve from what was happening in my life.

Of course, my initial hurts were due to work. I was always stressed, always coming home crying, exhausted, beaten. I hadn’t even done ANYTHING at work. I just sat there, but they were the most draining days of my life.

The second hurt was still Peter. After seeing Peter in Japan last April, I had resigned that he was the only one for me. AGAIN. And I can tell you at this moment, as I write this, I still feel that way. But around July of last year, I was getting antsy. When he and I spoke to each other in that hotel room, me inadvertently confessing my love for him while he acknowledged he too had feelings for me, I clung to that. I still cling to that. When he told me, “One day you and I will be together. It’s going to be us someday, in the end” I clung to that, too. Like a mantra. Every day telling myself — we are going to be together. And even knowing that, I didn’t want to allow myself any kind of distraction.

Until I did.

Peter told me his girlfriend was to move back to Hawaii in August. I felt like I had time, y’know? The internal cravings were finally scratching, asking for just one hook up, one night with some random guy I’d regret.

But I did something worse. I went on a date.

His name is Scott. We met on Twitter through the Dodger twitter community. One date, and he didn’t kiss me. Second date, at the top of Perch Rooftop. We made out all night. Third date? Dodger game. Fourth date? Another dodger game. Fifth date? A weekend getaway in Palm Springs. Sixth date? I dunno, another Dodger game. Mastros, museums, botanical gardens, you name it. I did more with Scott in 5 months than I have with anyone else. In a way, I guess he was my first boyfriend. But… I also want to put an asterisk on that, because of the number one caveat in this whole story: Scott is married.

I think Scott is STILL married as we speak. But I don’t know. I knew he was married going into my first date because, like a smart person, I googled him. I googled “Scott _____” and found his wedding website, wedding registry, you name it. I saw pictures of him and his wife, who just got married March of that year. So why, in July 2019, is he asking me out on a date? Well, they were separated. Not “legally” separated but taking time off. That should have been a red flag to me, and maybe it was… but I think I went into it because of this promise of casualness. This idea that I wouldn’t have to commit to him.

“There’s no way this guy is going to want to get a divorce for me, so, yeah.”

He fell harder than I did. And when I would tell him, “Yeah, you need to try one more time with your wife,” he always seemed to be very disappointed by my answer. I think he was always waiting for me to tell him, “I want you to get a divorce from your wife.” But as much as I grew to like him, I always knew — he’s not willing to TRY. If he just married this woman, and then called it quits after two months, what’s that mean for what could’ve happened between us?

It didn’t end as well as we promised it would. He threw a tantrum when I agreed with him that we should end it. He offended me by blocking me on Twitter, so I said, “I’ll do you one better” and blocked his phone number. Unfortunately, Apple only blocked his number on my phone. And about a month after “the break up” (which happened around Thanksgiving), I turned on my laptop and received this large, sappy message about how I’m his “unicorn,” and how I’m the one that got away, and how he and I will be together in the next life.

I guess it scares me. I say these things about Peter.

At this point (December 2019) I hadn’t heard from Peter since his birthday, July 13th. All throughout August I remember wanting to message him, ask him if he’d broken up with his girlfriend yet. I wanted to ask him this in September, in October, in November. Even when Scott and I broke up, I wanted to ask this in December and January, and even February. But I felt like it would be so disingenuous. I wanted to ask in August, yes — but I made up the excuse, “Well, maybe she isn’t moving back to Hawaii until the END of August. I’ll chat him up then.” But it would seem SO OBVIOUS if I was reaching out to him. I also had Scott, who I was quite fond of. Never in love, but fond of. It was nice to have someone obsessed with me, and I knew I liked him because of how jealous I would get about girls messaging him on Twitter.

But still, the goal was in my mind: Peter.

After Scott and I broke up, I just… felt like it’d be a disservice to text Peter now that I was suddenly “free.” I said I’d wait a few months. So finally, four days ago, I did it. I texted him. And oh, what bliss!

But something else happened before this. The thing that prompted me to text Peter.

After Scott, I was… bored. I felt better, of course. Scott could be so judgmental. He was uber jealous, super upset about how promiscuous I used to be. And I say that with a laugh, because I wasn’t “PROMISCUOUS” — I was just curious and slept with different men because I didn’t know what I wanted, what I liked. And this was something Scott always made sure to voice that he didn’t like about me. Especially the whole Dieter debacle…

Anyway, I hadn’t entertained any texting with anyone for a good while. Until last week.

I got a text from Vincent, a service guy I met at NAC last year who works at one of our dealers. If I am being honest, he kinda looks like Scott. Just a little. But in a way, he was kind of… MORE annoying. A little more rough around the edges, a bit sexist, a big tease when it came to flirting. To be honest, I was put off by it. But if I’m also being honest, I was horny and bored and lonely. So… one thing lead to another, and we started sexting. That’s it. SEXTING.

So I guess there was this idea that he was going to see me at this year’s NAC. Spoiler alert, I wasn’t invited this year because of the changes made to my job — but he didn’t know that. And then, because of this coronavirus, the NAC was CANCELED!! Literally, a day after it was canceled, he immediately started our conversation off with this… admission that he’s married. So, like… suddenly that there’s no chance of us meeting, he had to get that out of the way: “you seemed like you wanted something more, and I just wanted to let you know I’m married.”

Of course, I was mad, but I was still BAD. I still kept sexting him, because again, suddenly there was this idea that I didn’t have to COMMIT. However, I had a very sobering moment a couple days after this admission… I found his wife’s Facebook page, and was face to face with a picture of her, Vincent, and their two children.

I ignored him the entire weekend and told him today, “Yeah, we gotta stop. I know it’s just WORDS, but she says you’re the love of her life on her Facebook profile!”

I’ve shut him up with that alone.

So now I’m left with this… DISGUST. Why am I only being approached by married men? In Scott’s case, he kept it secret. In this guy’s case, he kept is secret until suddenly the conference in Las Vegas was canceled. I can’t help but think… do married men flock to me because I seem like I have low self esteem? And do I prove that I do by entertaining them? I’m even sicker and more jaded about dating than ever before. Suddenly it just seems more likely, more apparent that men are cheaters, and want something else after matrimony, or after the birth of their first or second child.

It made me sad. It made me feel filthy, because I shrugged my shoulders when I saw they were married and played along anyway. And so… I texted Peter, in hopes that I’d remind myself what love felt like. Even if it’s one sided, even if he doesn’t feel the same way. I just wanted to remember how I felt when talking to him, because it’s the closest thing to love I’ve ever known.

Me: “Hey you, how’re you doing?” Peter: “Am okay, been wondering how you’re doing too. […] It was good to see you last year. Lol, said that last time didn’t I.”

I started telling him about my disability leave, and he asked why I didn’t come back to Japan. Then we just talked and laughed and laughed. I felt… so uplifted.

Me: “I’m judgmental. You know this.” Peter: “Yes, I live in fear of ending up on the other side of that judgement.” Me: “What? I’d never judge you except for your terrible movie tastes.” Peter: “M-m-mean.”

And then, since it was bedtime for me, and he was still at work (I think the time difference was 11pm for me, and 2:30pm for him), we started saying our goodbyes. And then… he said something that took my breath away:

Peter: “I still think about when you came here, you know. I don’t text because I assume you’re living your life. But yeah, anyway.” Me: “Haha, Peter, believe me, I think about that all the time. Like, very fondly. You’re part of my life. You’re not an intrusion, you know? Anyway, we can catch up later. Don’t get fired from your job by talking to me.”

I know it doesn’t seem like much, but I guess it just… made me happy to know he thinks of me. And to know he thinks about those nights we had together in Japan. Innocent, uneventful nights — except with the underlying subtext of wanting something more. Perhaps that was my first taste into being “ok” with infidelity. He was just DATING his girlfriend. And I said, “But I’ll do it. I’ll do it because it’s Peter, and because I love Peter.”

Here’s the last sadness I am going to impart before ending this entry, albeit haphazardly.

If it isn’t Peter, I hope it’s someone who doesn’t keep me a secret. When all those men flocked on me at NAC last year, they were all married and wanted me as their dirty little secret. When things ended with Scott, I asked if he’d tell his wife. He said no, she didn’t need to know. I remember thinking, “Wow, that’s a great way of trying again with your wife.” And now with Vincent, I am also a secret.

I know I’m picky, but I guess I’m just… amazed by this idea that I only attract men who want me on the side, and not in their real lives. Not that I want to be in their real lives. But it doesn’t feel like anyone i’ve ever given my time has ever been interested in giving me all of theirs.

#drea diaries #drea writes #lwta #tw: suidice

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rocky-alex · 7 years

Text

Motels Won’t Cut It Anymore

Word count: 1574

Warnings: none here

Pairing: Reader x Sam

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Chapter twenty: You And I Both Know My Past Is Haunted

This could not become a habit, or else you’d die before you turned forty. Slowly but surely you surfaced to the realm of the conscious, but refused to open your eyes just yet, first wanting to take stock of your current situation. Your body was intact, and you didn’t feel too bad. Yet. It remained to be seen how you’d feel once you actually started moving.

Slowly, oh ever so slowly, you opened your eyes to the bright light from the lamps you’d neglected to turn off the before you passed out. Relief flooded you when it didn’t sting like needles. You carefully turned over onto your back, and were happy to discover that your head wasn’t being cleaved in half, but instead only pounded lightly with a soft hammer.

Sitting up, you heard groaning coming from your bathroom. You got up from the bed and slowly walked over to the door, finding Dean on the floor by your toilet, looking like absolute shit. Just because it was Dean, you felt like you should help him feel a bit better.

“You know, there’s a great cure for a hangover, it’s your week and a half old pizza served up on a dirty dive bar floor.” Dean groaned.

“I fuckin’ hate you.” “Yeah, I know you do.” You turned away from the bathroom and before you left the room, you picked up your gun and tucked it in your waistband, feeling like it was a habit you ought to get into. Somewhat shakily you made your way to the kitchen. Sam was there, sitting at the table having breakfast.

“Mornin’, how you feeling?” He grinned. You stuck your tongue out.

“I’ve had worse.”

“Yeah, I know.” Damn, that smirk. Rolling your eyes you walked past him to the coffee pot and poured yourself a cup. “Where’s Dean?”

“Praying to the porcelain gods, regretting he ever met me.” Sam started to laugh, which made you smile. It was kind of an amazing sound.

Talking to Dean last night had caused something of a revelation for you, and you looked at Sam with new eyes. The kiss you’d shared hadn’t changed much between you, aside from feeling closer to him. You didn’t feel uncertain about him, because you understood where he stood in life, and that despite sort of having a permanent home, he might up and leave at any moment. But then again, so could you.

Two cups of coffee, a shower and a change of clothes later you joined Sam in the library.

“So last night I did what research I could on your family, and as expected they are very careful to not leave any trace of what it is they actually do.” He opened his laptop and clicked up several news articles and information sites. “So I had to dig a little deeper, go into the backstory of the Ritchies, their origin story and whatnot, and I found something interesting.” He clicked around a bit and suddenly an article with a picture of your family popped up. The clicking stopped. You looked at the picture and felt a tug in your chest. There they were, your father, your mother and… Leah. The picture had been taken years ago, long before your sister died. You looked… happy. Ignorant… Fucking naive. The family secret was just that, a secret, because you didn’t care enough to realise something wasn’t as it should have been. You didn’t care about the family business, but had been more focused on your own path.

Suddenly a hand covered yours on the table and you heard Sam’s voice.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” You turned your hand over under his and grabbed hold of it.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Sam. I probably- no I definitely- would’ve been dead if it weren’t for you and Dean.” You looked at him. “What happened, happened. Now, what did you find?”

Sam held onto your hand as he turned back to the computer, getting to the page he was looking for.

“In your family’s history I found several mentions of an old artefact from ancient Greece. Apparently it was revered by your ancestors, and thought to be sent from the gods themselves. I couldn’t find an actual name or a picture, but it’s something.”

“And something is all we need.” Despite looking like he’d gone a few rounds with a dumpster, Dean managed to move so quietly you had no idea he was behind you and Sam. You jumped so bad you hit your knee on the underside of the table.

“Jesus fuck, why’d you do that?!” Both he and Sam laughed. You turned back around to sit down, and almost lost your shit, again.

“Fuck!” A man was standing on the other side of the table. He tilted his head, as if questioning everything about you. “Who is that?” you asked as you tried to catch your breath, again, and pointed at the man.

“Cas, what the hell?” Dean exclaimed. “I’ve tried to get ahold of you for days!” The man, Cas, turned his attention to Dean.

“I’ve been busy.”

“Doing what?” This was the first time you’d heard Dean be openly somewhat worried about someone, and it kind of surprised you. Cas looked away, trying, very obviously, to avoid Dean’s question. “Come on, Cas! You can’t just go MIA for weeks and then just pop in without an explanation!”

“I can’t tell you right now.” Dean huffed and tossed his arms up, like this had happened before.

“Okay, pause?” you asked and raised your hand. “Can someone please tell me who this is and how the hell he got into the bunker? I thought you said it was heavily warded and impossible to get into unless you had a key.” Sam got to his feet and gestured to Cas.

“Y/N, this is Castiel. Cas, this is Y/N.” Seeing you raise your eyebrows in question he continued. “Cas is an angel.”

“An angel? Really?” What the hell? They couldn’t have stopped at demons, but now angels had to be real too? You looked at Cas, having a hard time believing what Sam was saying.

“Aren’t angels supposed to be all glowy, with wings and halos? What’s with the trench coat?”

“That’s just his style,” Dean answered. Suddenly Cas blipped out and appeared right next to you.

“Please, stop doing that!”

“Who are you?” Damn, this guy was demanding, and kind of rude. You leaned away from him as best you could.

“Y/N Ritchie, at your service.” Cas turned to Dean, looking very tense, like someone was squeezing his intestines.

“Can I talk to you?” Dean cast a look your way before turning and walking out of the library, Cas right behind him.

You turned to Sam.

“What the hell was that about?” Sam sat back down in his chair and gestured for you to do the same.

“The angels know about your family and are probably not your biggest admirers. Lucky for you that Cas was the first angel to find out about you, the rest of them can be real dicks.” “There it is again, ‘lucky’. I’m not sure you and your brother know the meaning of the word.”

“Believe me, we know better than most people…” There was that look on his face, the one that told you that their past wasn’t as simple as just hunting the occasional monster or demon. They had been through a lot, a lot that was far from sunshine and roses.

“I’m sorry… But still, how did he get in?”

“We made sure he can, we trust him. He’s… He’s family.” Deciding that more than that was none of your business, you shifted your attention back to the computer as you sat back down.

“I know you didn’t find a name or a picture, but did you find anything about what they used the artefact for?” He immediately snapped back into research mode.

“Actually I did. They’ve had it for a couple centuries, at least, and apparently it’s the center of some big plan, decades, almost a hundred years, in the making, all tied to your family.” He clicked up another page with a text in a language you didn’t know. “The way it’s phrased here though…” He trailed off.

“What?”

“It makes me think it’s literally tied to your family, as in your blood. I’m thinking that has to be why they’re trying to get to you.” You didn’t have time to react to that as you heard footsteps approaching from behind (Dean actually doing you the courtesy this time). Cas the angelman appeared beside you.

“I think I know what the artefact is.”

“How did you…?” “Don’t ask,” Dean said. “Just go with it.” Okay then.

“What is it?” you asked, shifting in your chair to look at Cas.

“It’s ancient, going back to a time before even the greek gods. It’s a small stone effigy of the goddess Gaia.” “Wait, Gaia as in… Mother Earth?” Sam asked in disbelief.

“Yes.” All three of you just sat and waited.

“And?” Dean finally asked.

“And it was believed by many to hold power over the goddess, that it kept her sleeping and at peace.”

“So what are they doing with it now?” You dreaded the answer, but you had to ask.

“Most likely, they’re going to raise Gaia from rest.”

“… And what happens if they succeed?” The answer was written on his face.

“Destruction.”

@bookchic20

@carryonmyswansong

Note: I have a bad cold and I can barely focus on the words on the screen :D Also, I’m so not okay about the angels losing their wings and ability to fly/teleport everywhere, so I scrapped that and Cas still has his wings. And i saw the new episode today and wow 0_0

#supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural reader insert #sam winchester #dean winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester reader #sam winchester and reader #dean winchester and reader #dean winchester and you #sam winchester and you #motels won't cut it anymore

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telltheworld-phff · 7 years

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Chapter 28: Encontros e despedidas

Carol woke up next morning with sounds inside the bedroom. Harry was already up and getting dressed for the day. She had barely slept most of the night because he had a troubled sleep. He woke up and moved a lot of times, but he didn’t for one second let go of of her body. She had to actually fight him in the middle of the night to be able to go to the bathroom and fetch water. And he held on her as soon as she was back in bed. Shaking her head she rubbed the sleep from her face and yawned.

“Morning.” she said after watching him getting dressed for a while.

“Morning. I’m sorry I woke you up.” he said.

“What time is it?” she asked looking for a clock.

“It’s 7:30” he sat by her side on the bed and kissed her hands. “Do I really need to go alone?” she saw in his eyes that he wasn’t ready to go. But who ever would be?

“Yes, Harry. I know no one from your family except for Eugenie. It’s not my place to be there with you.” she said. “And we don’t want to distress your grandmother even more. Specially today.”

“Ok...” he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I can’t wait to get back home, though.”

“I’ll be here waiting for you.” she pecked his lips and caressed his face. “Now I’m gonna help you get ready.”

She was up in a blink and helped him his his shirt and tied the knot of his tie for him. She chose the perfume he wore and the cufflinks. She even accompanied him to his door when he was about to leave. They shared a sweet kiss by his front door and he left. She waited until his car was out of sight to close the door. Her heart was heavy and broken and somehow she was still managing to help him. She went to the kitchen and fixed her breakfast before turning on her work laptop to start working from home. She turned on the TV and was only listening to the news while she did so. It wasn’t going to be televised but she still wanted to watch it.

(…)

Harry arrived at St. George’s Chapel with his family. They received the programs for the ceremony and they were seated in their designed seats. Everything was following the protocols and the planning The Queen wanted for her husband’s funeral. His grandmother would be the last one to arrive. He was sitting beside Kate and the Chapel was filled with extended family members, friends, a few heads of state and politicians and other people from the military.

The trumpets announced the arrival of The Queen, with her arms linked with her older son. She entered the Church and sat closer to the altar. Military men soon brought the coffin with The Duke of Edinburgh coat of arms drape over it.

The Bishop did a beautiful and touching ministration honoring Prince Philip as a loyal consort to the United Kingdom, a serviceman, as a husband, father and grandfather. A few of their guests were crying softly, but the Royal Family remained with their faces clean of tears.

Until Louise got up.

She’d be the one delivering the eulogy, she asked her grandmother to do it and The Queen gave her permission. She climbed the stairs to the altar and they adjusted the microphone to her height.

“Your Majesty,

Your Royal Highnessess,

Your Excellencies,

Ladies and Gentlemen, good morning.

My grandfather never liked to be the center of attention. He wouldn’t want us focusing on him and surely he wouldn’t want us to be sad about his death. I am sure he’d preferred us to think about our happy and jolly times. He was a humble and loving grandfather and will always be remembered by us as such. We all are already missing him. His full laughter, his jokes and pranks, his love and mostly his advices. Our grandfather always taught us to be responsible. He always said that we need to put our duty first. He was a man of duty, always supporting my granny.” she stopped and looked at her grandmother afraid of making a mistake. “I mean… he was always supporting The Queen through all those years. He also always taught us how to act and behave in our roles. And although we’ll miss him, we take consolation in the good memories we shared with him. I remember when once he showed up at our house and said mom and dad he’d take me riding. I wasn’t a very good rider back then, but he was patient enough to teach me. He complimented saying I was the best rider he had ever seen.”

The young girl breathed in and out and her eyes were already filled with tears. She was looking at her parents as if asking their permission to cry. Sophie got up and went to the altar to help her daughter. She whispered it was ok. No one would be mad at her if she didn’t finish of if she cried. She hugged her mom and the tears ran freely on her face. Sophie kissed her daughter’s temple and asked her if she wanted to continue. She only nodded and said that her grandfather had taught her to always finish what she started.

“I’m sorry.” she said after she composed a little bit more. “There was a Christmas, after George was born, that he dressed as Santa for us. He made our grandmother laugh and he really enjoyed his great-grandchildren believing he was really Santa Claus. Once he told my father that his great-grandchildren kept him young at heart. Because he truly and deeply loved us. And not only us, of course. Prince Philip loved his family and always defended us against some things we do have to face.”

All ladies, but The Queen, were crying by Louise’s heartfelt and beautiful eulogy. Harry was holding his own tears inside. His young cousin was showing to be more brave than they all thought.

“Prince Philip was a great teacher for everyone. I know we’ll miss him but so is our nation. He was selfless and kind. He had a curious sense of humor.” the people in the Chapel laughed a bit by the statement. “Grandpa, I will always miss and love you. Thank you for the memories we shared together, they’ll be what we, as a family, will hang unto to be able to cope your missing. You were a role model and sometimes our friend. I thank you for everything you did for us, grandpa. I love you and see you again in Heaven.”

They clapped for her and The Queen got up to wait for Louise and Sophie to be back at their seats. She hugged her great-granddaughter and whispered she had done beautifully and that she was proud of her.

By the end of the service, the military men carried the coffin to take it to the burial place. That’s when the press got to take pictures of the Royal family. Harry held Louise’s hands while climbing down the stairs and he was comforting his cousin.

And by noon of November 3rd, Prince Philip was buried to rest with only close family members to witness and their hearts full of grief in that moment.

(...)

He didn’t really register the rest of the day. They had lunch with some of the guests, they chatted and they had tea together before Elizabeth retired to her apartments. Some of them would stay in Windsor for a couple more days. Harry, Kate and William would be going back to Kensington. Harry was impatient to get home soon. He wanted to take a shower and to see Carol and to let his emotions flow. He had been hiding them it the whole day and it was making him exhausted.

He arrived home to find Carol working in the living room. She got up as soon as she heard his footsteps on the floor. She went to him and hugged him.

“You did amazingly today.” she said.

“How do you know?” he asked.

“Well… I was watching. And you leaving the Chapel with Louise was one of the most beautiful things ever.” she said and looked him in the eye.

“That little girl delivered a phenomenal eulogy that made everyone cry. She’s way braver than me at her age.” he said taking off his coat, suit and tie.

“It’s our girl power!” she joked. “How are you feeling?”

“Lost. And sad. Sometimes I wanna scream and sometimes I think it was for the best. It’s not like he didn’t have a full life. But I really hoped he would have more time.” he answered looking at her.

“What can I do to help you?”

“You’re already doing. You’re here with me.” he said and went to the kitchen and fetched them beers. “Now, it’s too late to be working. So it’s happy hour.” he gave her the beer and she finished answering the e-mail and turned off the computer. She sat on the couch and crossed her legs beneath her. She opened her beer and took a sip. He laid on the couch with his head on her thighs and she kept running her hands on his hair. We was drinking his beer and trying to not be overwhelmed by all the emotions from today. He started sharing memories with her, of how his grandfather had taught him to stick his tongue whenever he was contradicted, how he taught him how to ride, how he always had candy in his pocket to give to the small children, how his grandfather had protected him in Balmoral when his mother passed and how he made sure to go visit him every single day after her death. He shared with her that his grandfather thought his teen years and behavior were funny, but also he had been the one to tell him it was time to man up and stop doing childish things. Carol only listened to the stories and laughed with them, it was a good thing Harry was being able to talk about Philip without crying and sorrow. And she was way calmer now that she could take care of him than and see with her own eyes that he was fine. He wasn’t ok or alright, but he’d get there. She’d regret a lot if she had stayed back home. Her heart had made the right choice.

(…)

He was entering the shower after another shag. He just couldn’t keep his hands to himself whenever he was around her, and since it was a November rainy afternoon in London, they really didn’t have anything better to be doing.

“Carol… Edward’s stopping by to deliver a few papers to me. If he arrives while I’m showering can you get those for me?” he said leaning on the threshold of his bathroom.

“Sure.” she got up and did a messy bun with her hair. She dressed her pajamas shorts and Harry’s old Arsenal t-shirt that was way too big for her. She tidied the room and went downstairs to drink some water. She was about to start making them dinner when his doorbell rang. She went there singing and opened the door. She was open mouthed to see who was there.

“You’re not Edward...” she stated when she remembered how to speak.

“Thankfully I’m not.” he laughed amused. “Who are you?” he looked her from head to toes and she remembered she was wearing Harry’s shirt and a pajamas shorts.

“I’m no one. I mean. Of course I’m somebody. I...” she scratched her head. “I am Harry’s friend. My name is Carolina, Your Royal Highness.” she gave an awkward smile.

William only laughed at the brunette in front of him.

“So, Carolina. You’re friends with him and you’re wearing his t-shirt?” he crossed his arms looking way to pleased with himself to be making fun of her.

“Well… yup. That kind of friend.” she said.

“And am I interrupting something?” he raised and eyebrow and she couldn’t help but notice that Harry did the same thing sometimes.

“Of course not. Otherwise I wouldn’t be answering the door, would I?” she answered without thinking and she mentally scolded herself for being sassy to the Duke of Cambridge.

William’s laugh filled the room and after he composed himself he simply said.

“Now I understand why you’re his… friend.” he said.

“I’m sorry. I spoke without thinking and it’s probably not proper...” she said.

“Don’t apologize. I enjoyed the laugh.”

“Well then… come on in, Your Royal Highness, and do make yourself comfortable. I’m going to call your brother.” she opened the door further and William entered the room. He was about to sit on the couch when he asked her:

“Is it safe for me to sit in here?”

“That’ll be a shot in the dark, really. But I guess you’ll do just fine.” she answered climbing the stairs and entering Harry’s room. He was singing in the shower when she opened the shower stall.

“You came to join me, huh?” he said trying to get her inside.

“Harry! Stop it.” she said pushing his hands from her. “Your brother is downstairs.”

He was awestruck.

“William?”

“Do you have any other brother?” she rolled her eyes and he turned off the water.

“What is he doing here?” he got his towel and started drying his body.

“I don’t have a clue. But he’s here and I answered the door and I was sassy to him and now he’s probably going to ask your grandmother to get me beheaded.” she said panicking.

“No one get’s beheaded in a long time, rest assured.” he put on his boxers and his pajamas pants and a white t-shirt. He climbed down the stairs and William was waiting for him in the living room.

“What are you doing here?” Harry hissed.

“Good afternoon to you too, Harry.” William joked. “I came to invite you to take a stroll but it seems like you already have company with your… friend.”

“I don’t want to take a stroll with you. Ok? Thanks for your visit, and bye.” he said pushing his brother out.

“I thought I could spend a little time with my little brother and now he’s kicking me out. Pity.” William joked and Carol watched as the two brothers bickered. She was now dressed in jeans and with Harry’s t-shirt.

“I think we should start this again.” she said after the brothers noticed she was back in the room. “Hello, I’m Carolina and I’m Harry’s friend.”

William laughed and stretched his hand.

“Hello, I’m William and I’m his brother. It’s nice to see that he actually has someone with him. That explains the amount of time texting and all the calls and trips he’s been doing lately. I thought he was going bonkers, I did.” he said and Carol laughed.

“Well… yeah. This is awkward.” she said.

“William, weren’t you leaving?” Harry said with a forced smile.

“I’m getting to know your friend, Harry. Because you haven’t introduced her to anyone. Some of us thought she didn’t even exist.” William said with an interested expression on his face.

“Eugenie knows her. So does Skippy and the guys.”

“So you’re the one that drove his ex crazy at the party. So I’ve heard lots about you.” William said. “And I presume you’re the girl from the pictures from Brazil. It’s very nice to meet you, Carolina.” William smirked and Harry hated the fact that Carol was a welcoming and chatty person because she soon engaged in a conversation with his brother. They seemed to get along pretty well, and Harry was hoping he’d leave soon because he wanted to be left alone with her.

A:N: Is anyone still there?

I must say I was glad the last chapter delivered all the emotions I wanted it to. Most of you guys told me you have cried and almost cried by reading it and I am glad. I didn’t want to write it, and I cried alot while writing it but it is for the better.

Some of you also noticed that in the last chapter Harry finally admitted that he has fallen for Carol. He said it out loud to his grandfather and soon he’ll say it to her. How do you think she’ll react???

So in today’s chapter we got a sassy Carol giving smart answers to William and I love it. They’ll have their fights in the future, but he’ll be like a brother to her at some points.

*Encontros e despedidas is a brazilian song and it means meetings and farewells

Let me know what you guys think. And see ya next Saturday!

#Prince Harry #Prince Harry Fanfiction #PHFF #British Royal Family #BRF #Royal Fanfiction #Prince Harry Fanfic #chapter: 28 #when you tell the world you're mine

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