#the hairdresser IMMEDIATELY joked ''ah so it's going to be another year and a half before I see you agian then''

[tmae3114]

my hair is Slightly too short and I’m fine it’s fine everything’s fine

[jean----ralphio]

IT’S BoB LIVEBLOG TIME

Episode 1 is under the cut!

Warning, I swear a lot... and am very in love with RSJ so a lot of this was just me pointing at the screen and screaming RICH and then remembering you can’t see me so writing it down...

Episode 1: Curahee! Curaahhee? Curraahhee? I can’t spell so I’m renaming it Ross is a punk bitch

Buckle up my babies, this will be a carcrash!

00:01 Here we fucking go aw yis

00:11 Aw who’s this? I wish they named the gentlemen at the start of the episodes, I wanna know who is who :s

00:25 Shifty, is that you my angel son?

00:41 OMG you guys… these men are breaking my heart </3

01:06 Lord, men were committing suicide because they couldn’t go to fight? That mentality… man. Oh my God, you angels. Babies.

01:36 No jokes allowed, every man is <3

01:40 Now that I’m humbled and we’re all well and truly miserable…the credits, ugh, my heart. The score is amaziiiing. Some of the footage is actual war-time footage, I read, which is a brilliant touch.

02:01 DICK <3

02:13 DICK’S HUSBAND <3

02:18 RSJ’S NAAAAAME

02:27 JFC this music makes me so emotional. Look there’s Matthew Settle’s face. That makes me emotional too

02:48 Ah it’s Roe <3

03:48 I’m trying to pick them all out in the line-up but I can’t tell who is who. Are we supposed to be able to? There’s a short one in the middle, is that Harry?

03:49 I’m not drunk enough to handle this

04:10 Upottery? Ah it’s so English I love it. That’s not a name! Wtf is up with English place-names, you guys have the weirdest names. Upottery? Seriously? Is it only potters that live there? I’m so confused

04:22 Close up of Roe! Perfect. I approve.

04:32 Is that the guy from Line of Duty? I think it is

04:39 Lip <3

04:44 Ew. GTFO Cobb. He doesn’t even go here

04:47 IS THAT RICH? RICH. ILY. ILY RICH. Please note that 94% of this will be a Rich-watch

04:53 Lieb stop. I am sure you are not a certified hairdresser

04:56 RICH. SMOKING. SMOKING RICH. More like smoking hot do you see what I did there?

05:20 I can categorically say that I love Joe Toye. I do. I love him. But every time I see Kirk Acevedo, all I think of is Charlie my baby from Fringe (awesome show, please watch it). And I just. Charlieee <3

05:39 Aw. They’re so sad

05:55 They’re so despondent. Guys. It’s fine

06:05 Fassy?? FASSY!!

06:18 God Damien is pretty

06:25 Nix that’s not how you flirt

06:57 Lol at Dick noting its happy hour. Thinking about taking Nix on a date, are we? I bet you are. Now THAT is how you flirt!

07:24 OMG the fucking flirting! GUYS. “And give up all this?” NIX SAYS AS HE CHECKS HIM OUT

07:37 Yeah, Nix, you’ll take him ‘to Chicago’ huh? Is that what they call it nowadays.

07:44 Do you want to be that cigarette? ‘Cos there is nothing heterosexual about that lingering look, Dick

08:18 ‘Murica time

08:25 Ross, fuck off. Nice jacket though. “You PEOPLE are at the position of attention” ugh GTFO. Dick’s sideye tho lol

08:52 NGL Ross does a great job at being super unlikeable

09:05 Noooo you don’t want it with Johnny Martin. You wont win. Yeah, walk away Ross

09:15 Careful around Lip too, or Speirs will materialize out of thin air and snap your neck

09:33 RICH. Don’t be scared of that douchebag, baby

09:43 What kind of question is that, there is nothing Lieb wants more!

09:50 It’s weird hearing Ross swear tho

10:26 Don’t argue with Johnny, baby. Also Roe OMG <3 Shane is freaking fit

10:43 Wow Lip is ripped

10:48 Oh no, poor baby. Lip leave him be ☹ </3

11:10 LOL I just noticed the drum by the door. It says ‘butts’ and it took me a seconds to realise it was for cigarettes. I am an adult (31-year-old married woman). I’ll laugh at the word butts if I want.

11:11 RICH

11:18 Lieb omg lol

11:39 RICH BABY NO! FUCK OFF ROSS! LEAVE HIM ALONE OR I WILL HAVE SPEIRS CUT YOU

11:52 I can’t take Ross seriously in those shorts. Hi-ho GTFO

12:07 Ew fuck off running up that, I’d just nope out like nah babe imma go chill with that sweet baby back in the butts cabin

12:18 Aw Dick <3 The juxtaposition of Dick as a leader compared to Sobel who sure he might be honing them into something formidable and skilled but he’s an asshole. He’s not a leader. He’s a bullying, abusive scumbag. Dick is an actual leader who protects them and supports them and encourages them and IHAVEALOTOFFEELINGSOK

12:43 You don’t deserve that sick jacket, Ross. Seriously. That is a boss jacket, I want it

13:04 Have they not stopped fucking working out all this time? Ugh

13:23 Oh good, Dick gets a boss jacket too. He deserves it.

13:30 I wish people had to ask me for permission to speak.

13:53 I just. He. I can’t with Dick Winters, you guys. I cannot. I have lost the ability to can. Like they’re so upset and tired and low and just with that little joke he boosts their morale back up from where Sobel fucking beat it down into the mud and makes everything lighter and they laugh and are less tense and I just. Fucking love you, Dick.

14:00 Is that my angel son? I see you Shifty, love you baby

14:03 RICH. DON’T TOUCH MY RICH.

14:07 Oh my God, address them yourself you weirdo, Ross. They’re right there, you’re right there! I had a colleague that used to do the same, would get me to speak to my employees for her when they were right there in front of her like… ‘can you tell x to do y for me pls…’ … I was like wtf you know you CAN talk to them… you won’t catch poor just by speaking to people lower down the pecking order

14:22 Fassy! Wtf they’re not supposed to drink? Dehydration is legit one of the most dangerous things, how tf can you turn them into high-key supersoldiers if they’re dehydrated? How is this man so dumb? The guy in front of Fassy tho omg. I bet Fassy’s boss wife Alicia Vikander won’t like her husband being treated that way… she’s so badass tho right?

14:26 He’s so dramatic! Ugh

15:11 Piss off omg

15:24 oh my DVD flipped its shit here, only picked back up at 16:30 don’t @ me

16:52 RICH WHAT ARE THEY DOING TO YOU RICH

17:21 Shifty my angel son

17:46 so sweet

18:04 Sink, babe, no he is the worst, stop

18:20 LOL no, he’s jel as fuck babe

18:32 NO FUN ALLOWED. Im sorry, that tie is so ugly

18:44 Simon Pegg??!!

18:51 Ross is so dramatic God shut up. it’s not a conspiracy, weirdo

19:10 “It’s a can of peaces, sir.” Iconic.

19:11 Dick’s tiny smile is equally iconic.

19:17 SHUT UP ROSS

19:44 He wants to be punched, I think, like he’s goading them. The sick fuck.

20:47 DON’T TRUST HIM, DICK!

21:02 ROE <3

21:31 Hoobler, aw <3

21:37 I warned you not to trust him, boys

21:54 Ah boys, oh no

22:04 RICH. Kick him, baby

22:17 Bull, punch him, seriously

22:24 Oh Luz <3

22:26 Yeah GTFO, suck it, bitch

23:06 Who is this? Fella’s hot

23:40 RICH. FASSY. WEB. TAB.

24:19 Suck it, Ross

24:30 Real footage?

24:41 Lol you suck Ross

25:23 RICH. SMOKING RICH.

25:26 Bill omg

25:45 Perco, baby, no. don’t talk to Johnny Martin. Don’t look at Johnny Martin. Don’t so much as think about Johnny Martin. He will fuck you up with his gaze alone, baby

25:56 Ah Luz

26:06 OK. That’s hot. Joe/Charlie don’t be hot. It confuses me

26:42 Winnix being husbands in the corner

27:42 YOU’RE in the wrong position, dumbass, it’s no one else’s fault

27:46 Dick’s come to save the day

27:56 Ross knows nothing omg

28:05 RICH. Even my Rich is confused, Ross, you dweeb

28:20 Lol at Dick dropping down ready for a fight

28:36 Fassy isn’t happy. That means Alicia Vikander is coming for you. Joe/Charlie is definitely not happy. Lip is upset. Think about your life, Ross, think about your choices. You know you’ve failed when Roe is judging you

28:57 Nix is like lol where tf is the alcohol tho

28:59 Harry! Harry is here! But yes, baby, you’re interrupting the husband’s foreplay, leave immediately

30:00 Lol at the Nix vs Ross staredown. Nix won

30:17 RICH. GUYS IT’S RICH

30:33 Do it, Lieb. Drop the grenade. Just don’t upset my angel son Shifty

30:40 He is a literal angel. Don’t corrupt him Lieb

30:59 Nix is having another crack at flirting. “Going my way” so suave omg. Omg stop. No wait don’t

31:09 “I’m not the intelligence officer.” Neither is Nix half the time babe let’s be fair

31:14 “If I told you I’d have to kill you.” Nix is getting better at flirting! He’s been attending flirting 101 classes it seems

31:40 They’re legit such husbands prove me wrong

32:00 He’s not joking, Dick

32:06 Harry’s like oh yay yes please

32:11 Lol Nix

33:03 Ugh. Men. I feel like that hold smells so bad.

33:09 RICH. Naw, Rich is sad he’s missing out on the flamingos.

33:32 Joe/Charlie you deserve a day to commemorate you tbh. I love you.

33:46 “My brother’s in North Africa, he says it’s hot.” Bill is iconic.

34:34 Lieb, honey, don’t, please

34:49 I feel you, random hot guy. Tipper?

35:05 Eyyy this place is nice, let’s all move there.

35:17 Shifty, my angel son, my baby <3

35:26 Yay, Harry gets a boss jacket too!

36:22 Mum and Dad of Easy. I’m low-key living for Lip’s little worried faces.

36:33 THAT JACKET IS SICK AS FUCK I WANT 20

36:38 The fence is there, Ross, because you’re so fucking dumb

36:51 Guys, look, cows

37:06 He’s fucking useless. Hi Simon Pegg.

37:22 RICH

37:25 This whole scene gives me life and waters my crop

37:31 RICH <3. YOU GUYS. I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH. RICH RICH RICCCCHHHH

37:42 Poor Tip is so done

37:58 Simon Pegg is so confused

38:04 Good job, Tipper, I’m proud of you and your pretty face

38:10 Iconic

38:15 Keep it together Tip

38:54 The hand signals, no, I’d be like BABY. WHAT. I CAN’T UNDERSTAND YOU WTF. I’d last like a millisecond in the military lmao. Does my country even have one? Tbh probably not. Us Kiwis are too chill, cbf’ed with anything. Too busy watching rugby, drinking, and sulking that we can’t afford houses cos our housing market is fucked. But at least we beat Covid *shrugs*

39:06 ILY, old guy. You are the best thing in this episode, aside from Rich

39:22 But wait, there’s more weird Americans hopping out yo’ bushes

39:26 “Bloody hell!” Mood

39:47 “You’ve done it now, yanks, you’ve captured me!” He is such a mood. I love him.

39:54 FUCK OFF ROSS. “Would that be the enemy?” “As a matter of fact, yes.” DICK IS SO VALID I LOVE HIM THIS IS ICONIC.

40:25 Be free, moo-cows

40:40 LAMO GET WRECKED

41:00 Guys imma be straight with you. I’m on my third whiskey lmao.

41:10 Simon Pegg, please refrain from being a douchebag. Leave Dick and his husband to flirt in peace.

41:23 I love how Nix is like instantly suspicious. He knows.

41:39 Worried husband

41:45 “Misspelled court-marital.” Iconic

42:14 Ross, why you lying? So threatened and jel that you gotta lie omg.

42:50 God Damien is freaking hot. Guys.

42:57 Punk bitch Ross.

43:22 Dick is so BDE. It’s fucking hot.

43:30 Ross is shooketh tbh. Punk bitch.

43:36 AH! IT IS HIM! THE GUY FROM LINE OF DUTY S5!

43:50 That underbite must have hurt FJH a lot omg so committed.

44:02 Hey Lip <3

44:09 Johnny Martin has absolute BDE

44:22 God they’re willing to be killed just to not follow Ross. Same tbh.

44:57 This whole scene is BDE.

46:00 But Sink has the most BDE let’s be honest

46:44 The respect for Dick. Even after what they just went through. I AM EMOTIONAL.

46:58 He’s so worried like omg what have my troublesome sons done now

47:09 ROSS WHY YOU ALWAYS LYING??

48:09 Weak

48:24 Yeah, fuck off back to ‘Murica

48:34 Legit, can we acknowledge Ross did a great job (the actor). Really really well done, one of the best performances on the series tbh.

49:48 LMAO GET WRECKED PUNK BITCH

50:06 Dick just wanders about a lot on his own, huh?

50:50 What? What? I understand nothing of what the cockney guy is saying.

50:55 Me too, Hoob, the fuck.

51:00 RICH I SAW YOU

52:19 “Never put yourself in a position where you can take from these men.” Don’t omg I can’t, Dick, I’m weak, I can’t deal with these fucking feelings.

52:36 DAFUQ

52:40 OHHHH I get it. Right. Dick, you’re so smart. It’s a little sad they have to do all that just to get some answers and guidance but tbh it’s probably fair? Gotta be top secret so punk bitches like Ross can’t screw things up.

53:30 Hey Nix. Speak French to me any day.

53:48 Unf.

54:08 LMAO Lieb, how many cigarettes do you need!

54:10 NGL I paused here for a little while.

55:05 We could ALL use some brass knuckles, Joe/Charlie. Mood.

55:25 LOL Lieb is so nosy.

56:15 Oh no

57:00 Luz LMAO

57:10 Oh babies

57:13 Bill LMAO that’s not ice cream, yuck it looks like soup

57:28 God. All that effort. Not just logistically but emotionally, mentally, psychologically, to prepare, just to have it put off. Fuck.

57:38 That movie again. Poor boys.

57:47 That’s actually a really smart move, Johnny.

58:41 Oh no. I would lose it completely. Oh Bill </3

59:11 Naw, Dick dawdling around again

59:49 RICH I SEE YOU

1:00:08 AAAHHHH IT’S TOO CONFRONTING DON’T

1:00:48 NOOO I CAN’T aw Bill

1:01:09 Naww

1:01:16 RIIIIICH

1:01:20 It’s like they’re kiddies on a field trip and Dick is the teacher wrangling them lol

1:01:47 Lol their crap is so heavy Dick has to help pull them up. That’s actually really sweet.

1:01:51 I wish I could hold Rich’s hand

1:02:08 Oh God. I can’t. Like he’s helping them up BUT IT’S ALSO HIS WAY OF SAYING GOOD LUCK AND GOODBYE AND HAVING LIKE A MOMENT TO CONNECT WITH EACH OF THEM I CAN’T LIKE THE EYE CONTACT NO DICK STOP

1:02:19 LMAO at them having to shove each other into the plane

1:02:23 That look between him and Roe. Ugh. Like. You two gotta take care of your boys together. Brotp

1:03:22 Can someone explain the block on that guy’s helmet to me?

1:03:55 I’m sad. And scared. This series is so confronting. I’ve watched in annually since I was like 16 and I’m still so nervous for them.

1:05:37 Rich, I see you! I recognized his chin lmao

1:06:16 God, Dick be careful

1:10:00 This show. The feels. Every time.

[gripefroot]

Crazy

“And then she said to me, I think that cat is judging us for being stupid. Backed straight out of the alley then, and it hissed after us until we started running. Never did find out if the money was stored there. Guards cats are pretty effective, when it comes down to it.” 

The elevator dings. The joke between Bucky and Steve ends on twin chuckles, their attention shifted to the doors as they slide open. The elevator is not empty. Bucky is surprised. Steve, less so. 

“Morning, Nick,” Steve says easily, taking a step inside. Bucky follows behind, giving Nick Fury a nod and a once-over to the woman beside him. She doesn’t respond. Doesn’t even look his way.  

“Morning, boys. Nice to see you out early for recon prep.” 

“What recon?” Bucky makes the mistake of saying. He grunts as he feels Steve’s elbow in his side.  

“Where’s Romanoff?” Nick asks, as if Bucky hadn’t said anything.  

“She’s already underground, sir,” the unknown woman answers.  

“Good.” 

“I’m Steve,” Steve says, and offers his hand to the woman. She takes it, a polite but distant smile flitting on her lips. 

“Agent 28.” Her eyes flicker to Bucky, but he says nothing. With a raised brow her hand drops to her side where a holster is strapped around her thigh. 

He doesn’t trust himself to introduce himself when he’s thinking about that thigh holster. The brand. If it’s too tight. If it could hold anything larger than the Glock 19 she’s carrying. How sexy it is. What her name actually is, because he’s pretty sure that modern parents don’t name their kids numbers. Not entirely sure, though. 

“She’s my best agent,” Nick is saying, and Bucky reverts his gaze to the closed elevator doors with burning ears.  

“Nonsense, sir,” she replies. “You told Natasha that just last week, and I know for a fact you told Barton he was your best agent at last year’s holiday party. He brings it up every other time I see him.” 

Steve snorts. Bucky finds himself clenching his fist in the pocket of his jeans. Fury is apparently unconcerned by getting called out, and shrugs.  

“Either way, she’s been on this case since we got it three months ago. She’ll be running the recon today.” 

“Looking forward to it,” Steve says. Bucky senses the shifting weight of the woman, and he hears the lightness in her voice.  

“You might be changing your mind about that.” 

An omen.  

The tac room is underground Avengers Tower. Once the doors ding open to reveal a long hallway, Fury says something about speaking to Stark and punches the buttons as the other three climb off. Bucky slows his pace to follow the woman, who strides ahead. At the end of the hallway, Natasha is leaning against the wall, but she perks up when their footsteps draw closer.  

“About time,” Natasha says. “Hey, 28. I got the stuff you asked for. Told the boys yet?” And she falls into step beside the woman. Clearly they’re acquainted. Bucky wonders why Tasha has never mentioned Agent 28 before.   

“Nope,” Agent 28 replies. “Figured the sooner I tell them, the more complaints I’ll hear.” 

“This doesn’t sound good,” Steve interrupts.  

“It’s not.” 

Compared to the hall, the gear room is bright. Rows of vests, coats, weapon holsters, and various items for disguises are neatly lined on the wall. A few outfits are laid out on a table, and Bucky glances in trepidation at the chairs sitting empty in front of a mirror. He’s been in here before - he remembers the day Clint Barton was sat in one of those chairs and his hair shaved off because some evil scientist goo had gotten in it. That had been a bad day for Clint. Great day for Bucky, though.  

“Sit,” the woman says. Steve is quick to obey, with a trepidated glance at Bucky. He knows what it means: If we’re going to get messed up, at least we’ll be messed up together, right? Bucky struggles to have the same confidence. He sits beside Steve, glancing back towards the open door in case he needs to make a hasty exit.  

“Did you read the briefing I sent over?” Agent 28 asks, rummaging through a tub of...barber supplies. Bucky stiffens.  

“Oh, yeah,” Steve assures her. “Recon at a coffee shop for a suspect dealing in chemical warfare for Libya. We just need to find out who he’s meeting, and potential locations for any deals, right?” 

“Right.”  

She pulls out a buzz cutter. Holding it in her hand like a weapon (which to Bucky, it looks very much like one at the moment), she turns to steady meet their eyes, the opposite hand on her hip.  

“Here’s the deal,” she says shortly. “I can tell you two are ready to bolt, so I'll speak plainly. If the Avengers show up to a coffee shop all sitting together, the suspect won’t show. If the Avengers all show up to a coffee shop and don’t sit together, the suspect won’t show. You get my meaning? Anyone with half a brain will know what you look like, and anyone guilty will bolt at the first sign of trouble.” 

“We’ve done recon before,” Steve says, unwisely. “We can - ” 

But Agent 28 interrupts him. “Believe it or not, a baseball cap and sunglasses are not the height of secrecy. I’m in charge of this mission, and I won’t let it go south because a coupla boys are afraid to cut their hair. Hair grows back. Got it?” 

“Got it,” Steve mumbles. Bucky is still staring at the woman. Trying not to look at her thigh holster.  

“Got it,” he says hoarsely after a moment.  

She starts on Steve. Clumps of golden hair fall to the ground, and Bucky swallows. Several minutes later, she turns off the buzz cutter, fluffing up the short ends of Steve’s hair as he stares in the mirror. 

“Not bad,” he admits. “You a hairdresser?” 

“Only by necessity.” A smile grows on her face, and Bucky blinks. It’s a very nice smile. Maybe a little wild, a little feral. But he’d be lying if he said it didn’t intrigue him more.  

Oh, no. She’s going to cut his hair.  

“Nat has some clothes for ya laid out,” Agent 28 tells Steve. “Go on over and get dressed.” 

“What about Nat? Is she cutting her hair too?” Bucky blurts, before he can stop himself. The woman steps over to his chair, buzzer still in hand. He gulps.  

“Natasha is going to wear a wig,” she informs him, meeting his eyes in the mirror. 

“Well, why can’t I wear a wig?” Bucky sounds like a petulant child, and he knows it. 

“Because your hair is long already,” Agent 28 explains patiently. “If we put a bald cap on you and some shorter wig, it’s going to look goofy. Believe me.” 

“And what about you?” 

“I don’t need a disguise,” she says at once. “SHIELD has an algorithm to delete all footage of me from public and private security cams. No one knows what I look like.” 

“Really,” Bucky says, only half-believing.  

“Not all of us feel the need to take credit for our dirty work, Sergeant,” Agent 28 gives him a smirk in the mirror, and Bucky nearly falls out of his chair. What is it about her -  

She flips on the buzz cutter. Bucky flinches, and holds up his hand in desperation. “Wait! Wait. There’s got to be another way.” 

She turns it off. “Afraid of a haircut?” she teases. 

“Well - maybe.” 

“How old are you again?”

“Ha, ha,” Bucky says sarcastically, though he’s struggling not to grin. “Come on. You do this a lot. There has to be other options. Please don’t cut my hair. Anything else. Just don’t cut it.” 

Agent 28 bites her bottom lip. Bucky tries not to stare, and fails. She has very pretty lips. Then at last she sets down the buzz cutter on the counter, and reaches over for a comb instead.  

“Fine,” she says, and starts to drag it through his hair. Immediately goosebumps break out across his scalp, and Bucky forces back a moan of pleasure. He must be looking a little strained, because she lifts a brow at him in the mirror. “But this is your choice. You can’t complain about it.” 

“Okay,” Bucky mumbles. He won’t be complaining yet - it feels too good to have her fingers in his hair. Way too good. It’s like a massage, really. In fact, he’s so lulled that he doesn’t realize what she’s doing until he watches through a daze as she pulls a hair tie off of her own wrist to secure his hair...in French braids.  

“Er,” he says, jolting from his stupor.  

“All done. Your clothes are back there,” Agent 28 says, jerking her thumb backwards. She’s smiling way too broadly - she’s enjoying this. She’s enjoying the consternation Bucky must be exuding. With a narrowed glare her way, he slowly stands from the chair to wander over to Nat and Steve. Still she smiles.  

“What’s this look called again?” Steve asks Natasha, twisting slightly to look at himself.  

“Ah, ‘never grew out of punk rock phase to spite Mom’,” Nat replies. Bucky grimaces - it’s not a good look, whatever it is. Poor Steve. But then his amusement is cut short as he sees the pile of stuff for him.  

“The point is to blend in,” Agent 28 says, coming from behind. “This coffee shop is popular amongst the odder end of folks. Get dressed, Sergeant. Nat, can I help you put on your wig?”

“Bossy,” Bucky mutters to himself as the girls go off. Steve glances over, a grin growing on his face as Bucky rifles through the pile of black leather and chains. Luckily Steve doesn’t say anything, and Bucky tugs off his nice, soft t-shirt to don some scratchy black top. And studded belt. His black jeans and boots are good enough, he decides. And the leather jacket isn’t so bad. The necklaces are bad, though.  

“No guns!”  

Bucky jumps, and freezes, Glock halfway into his pants pocket. He can feel Agent 28’s glare on his back, and slowly, retreats and lets his gun clatter onto the table. Steve is struggling not to laugh. Bucky glares.  

Ten minutes later, they’re nearly ready to go. Natasha is dressed in a miniskirt and tall boots, with black hair that falls to her hips. Since Bucky knows her, he finds it a kind of scary look. Agent 28 is wearing a flowy skirt and top, with a bandana in her hair.  

“Starving artist,” she explains, then jerks her head toward Nat. “Daddy issues.”

“We look ridiculous,” Steve says.  

“No more ridiculous than anyone else there. We’ll blend in.” Agent 28 casts a look around the group; Bucky tries not to flinch under her gaze, but probably doesn’t manage. Then her brows crease. “I forgot about your hand,” she says irritably. Walking over to the buckets of accessories, she digs through as she speaks. “It’s a bit suspicious to wear gloves in the middle of summer, so...I know Stark has something in here somewhere…” 

And a minute later she pulls out a floppy, flesh-colored thing. “Lube, Nat,” she orders. Bucky’s eyes widen, but Agent 28 is nothing but smug smiles as she returns, spreading out the limb...thing. Oh. It’s a hand.  

“Steve and I will head out now,” Natasha says, plopping a bottle of lube on the table. “Space out our entrances.”

“Got the address?” 

“Yep.”

“See you there.” 

Talking in low voices, Nat and Steve leave the room in their ridiculous clothes. Bucky stares wistfully after them for a moment, and then turns back to the other woman. And jolts, and the cold lube hits his hand.  

“You wanna rub it in, or shall I?” she asks, eyes flickering with mischief. 

“Um - I will.” Bucky swallows and tries to be nonchalant about it. Not an easy thing which his stomach tightening. When his metal hand is appropriately...moistened...Agent 28 holds up the limb hand and he slides his fingers easily inside. It squelches in a very awkward way. He flexes his fingers, staring. They look pretty fake. But less fake than metal, probably.  

“It won’t short circuit, will it?” she asks. 

“No. I can get my arm wet, you know,” Bucky tells her dryly, glancing up with a smile he can’t resist. “Showers and everything.” 

“Is that so?” Agent 28 teases back. “I would’ve thought you’d wear a shower cap up to your shoulder.” 

“Haven’t done that yet.” 

“Too bad. Sounds fun.” 

“Fun? How old are you again?” 

She purses her lips together in a show of annoyance at his joke. But Bucky guesses that she doesn’t mind - her eyes are alight, and a little blazing. They leave the room in silence. 

Coffee shop frequented by hipsters. Well, she hadn’t been wrong. Bucky sips his coffee from a seat at the front bar, glancing around the crowd, strewn in morning sunlight and chattering way too loudly for a Thursday at 10 a.m. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Natasha pretending to text by the bathroom doors, Steve at a window seat. Agent 28 is behind him somewhat, near the entrance.  

It’s been an hour. When is the guy supposed to show up again? Bucky very much wants to ask this agent, but they aren’t wearing coms. And he suspects that if he addresses her when they’re supposed to be reconning, she’d bite his head off.  

The thought is appealing, admittedly.  

Natasha’s eyes flick upwards. Steve quickly picks up his coffee for a drink. Agent 28 coughs slightly, and Bucky stiffens in his seat. 

Target in sight.  

The man heads to the front counter to order. Bucky’s closest now, and he listens as he orders coffee. Nothing suspicious so far. But the way-too-high-tech briefcase for the West Village is a bit of a giveaway.  

A scent of flowery warmth fills his nostrils, and he stiffens again. Agent 28 is sliding nonchalantly into the seat next to him, reaching over for a little packet of creamer.  

“He’s being followed,” she says, so quietly that anyone without super-hearing probably wouldn’t be able to hear. Bucky tilts his chin down to show that he understood. He clenches his empty cup in his hand, standing smoothly and striding towards the trash can near the door. Two bulky men are hovering, just inside as their eyes scan the crowd. The hair on the back of Bucky’s neck stands on end, and slowly he tosses his garbage away.  

He returns to his seat. Agent 28 has swiveled around, facing the crowd of the shop with a disinterested stare. But Bucky can see the pulse beating in her neck. She’s on edge. Which accounts for his surprise when she meets his eyes with an enormous smile, and a loud, “Darling.” 

So that’s what they must be doing now. Bucky smiles in return, a little stiffly, and obligingly takes her hand when she reaches for him. He senses Natasha near them, getting into line behind the target. And Agent 28 draws him near, so that he’s standing between her legs, towering over her in her seat.  

Bucky gulps. He’s not sure why his knees won’t stop shaking. Sternly he berates himself, You didn’t go through super-serum experimentation and decades of brainwashing to lose control of yourself over a woman. Pull yourself together, Barnes! 

It doesn’t help. 

She smiles, as if aware of his inner turmoil, and that she’s the cause of it. “We need to extract the target,” she says softly. And then louder, “Whaddya say to heading back home?” 

“Anything you say, love.” Bucky tangles his fingers with hers, keeping them steady. Her gaze is very hard on his face, and then her eyes flicker behind him. The shout from Steve and the icy determination filling Agent 28’s face come at the same time. Bucky tenses - there’s a gunshot, he hears Natasha grunt and a crash, and suddenly Agent 28 is hiking up her skirt, drawing her Glock (from that really commendable thigh holster around her now-bare leg), as she aims around Bucky and fires. The recoil shakes him a little, since she braced herself against his bicep.

There’s a sudden tent in his pants.  

Screams. Glass crashing. A ping of a bullet on his metal arm. He can feel the heat of it, and winces. Then, as suddenly as the chaos started, the shop is quiet.  

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts (no more than 6 or 7 seconds could have passed) Bucky swivels to see...Natasha, lying on the target on the ground. Both unharmed, and a little shaky. Steve, clutching his arm as blood seeps between his fingers, and the two bulky men lying still on the ground. One shot. One taken care of...Steve Rogers-style. Bucky grins to himself.  

“I thought you said no guns,” he says as an aside, as Agent 28 flicks the safety back on, and puts the gun back in its holster.  

“I said no guns for you,” she clarifies, with a little dimple forming around her smirk as she smooths down her skirt to cover herself more modestly.  

“But you can have one?” he asks. 

“I always have one.” 

“I like preparedness in a woman.”

She merely lifts a brow in return, but Bucky sees interest in her eyes as she slides off the stool. Heads are beginning to poke back up from beneath tables, and Steve offers a hand to Nat to help her stand. The target scrambles to his feet.  

“I’ll take him back to SHIELD,” Agent 28 says, picking up the man’s briefcase in one hand and grasping his arm in the other. “When we have the intel, I’ll contact you for the follow-up.” 

Stepping on broken glass, she begins to wind towards the door. But as Bucky stares after her, she glances back over her shoulder with a smile. Just for him. 

“Make sure things get cleaned up. And take off your disguises before you address any press.” And she’s gone out the door. Bucky is speechless, but only for a moment. Sighing, he turns to Steve beside him. 

“I don’t think she likes me much. Always telling me what to do,” he says regretfully. But it’s Natasha that answers. 

“Nonsense; that’s just how she shows that she cares. Steve, go get your arm looked at. You’re bleeding out.”

~

It’s impossible to ever stop being an agent. Even tucked up in bed that night, trying to read a fantasy novel, your ears attune themselves to the sound of New York City traffic outside your window. The honks. The screeches. People calling out to each other.  

You can almost pretend the noise is dragons fighting goblins. 

There’s a soft swoosh, right outside your window. A thud on the balcony. Unmoving - you don’t want to give yourself away - you feel your heart begin to race as your hand slides under your pillow for a gun. The window is slid open, slowly. 

And you’d thought that living on the second story was high enough that you didn’t have to lock your windows. You deserve a burglar or two for that idiocy. Grasping the handle of your gun, you jerk around and hoist yourself to your knees, keeping the gun steady in your hands as you aim it at -  

Bucky. Bucky Barnes, one leg inside your bedroom while the rest of him tries to squeeze through. Bucky Barnes, sheepish and a little confused, and more than a little irritated.  

“There’s something keeping the window from opening all the way,” he says. “Could you jiggle it a little?” 

“Not even a hello?” you ask, pulling your gun back. He’s safe. You think.  

“Hello. Please open your window.” 

Biting back a laugh, you jump off the bed to oblige. “I suppose if I don’t, you’ll be stuck there forever,” you tease him. With a grunt and a pull, the window slides open the rest of the way, and Bucky lets out a long breath of relief as he pushes himself through.  

“That would be a problem,” he says dryly, staring down at you as he straightens his jacket.  

“Would it really? I think it would be fun.” With a smirk you close the window again, and the traffic is muted. And suddenly your bedroom seems very, very quiet. “Why are you here, Sergeant?” you ask him, hands on hips. “And why no warning? I could’ve dressed up for ya.” 

Immediately his face flames red. “You - your pajamas are very nice,” he stutters out, and you laugh. 

“Why are you really here?”

“I just - I…” Bucky bites his bottom lip, as his color slowly returns to normal.  

“Missed me already?” you ask lightly. 

“I - I guess.” 

Now that is not the answer you’d expected. During the recon he’d been a little tense around you; you’d assumed he was still sore that you’d threatened to cut your hair. Barnes isn’t known to be particularly friendly to strangers. But now he’s at your apartment, having climbed through the window at night, just because he ‘missed you.’ 

How very interesting.  

“What’s your name?” he blurts. “I mean, your real name.” 

How very interesting. 

“Only Director Fury knows my name, hon,” you smile up at him with a shrug. “That’s something you’ve gotta earn...if you’re interested.” 

“I’m interested. I am interested.” Bucky’s not one to mince meanings. The light in his eyes has shifted; bright to dark, full of meaning. Insinuation.  

You take a step forward, tilting your chin upwards as he catches his breath. You place a hand on the front of his shirt - his heart is racing. You can see very well the stubble on his strong jaw, the dimple in his chin. The thick lashes which ring his eyes. “You wanna get to know me, Sergeant?” you ask softly.  

“Yeah,” he breathes out, low and slow. “Yeah, I do. You...you were so...amazing. Today. You were amazing. You are amazing. Cooler than Sam or Clint, for sure. Maybe even Tasha. Probably cooler than Steve.” 

He’s babbling. It’s adorable, but you interrupt with a laugh. “Well, maybe I wanna get to know you, too. If I’m being quite frank. Which isn’t my name, by the way.”  

Bucky laughs aloud - the sound fills your bedroom with warmth and liveliness. It makes your skin tingle from your scalp to your toes. “You look like a Frank,” he teases back, lifting a finger to tap the end of your nose.  

“How’d you find out where I live, anyway?” you ask. “It’s not public intel.” 

He shrugs. “I have my ways.” 

“Which are…?” 

He holds up his metal hand, gleaming in the light from your lamp. Holding your gaze, he flicks off the end of the pinky finger. “I can hack into any technology,” he says, and you give an involuntary “ooo!” at the fancy port.  

“I could use one of those in my finger,” you say fervently, remembering a handful of instances when you’ve fumbled precious flash drives and such. “What - do your other fingers have that, too?” 

Bucky is grinning now. He knows he got you. So he flips open the ring finger - a three-pronged port. The middle finger - a mini USB-drive. “Pretty much unlimited memory,” Bucky explains. “Stark has good tech like that. He put all the updates here, in fact. And this one - ” The index fingers just looks like a hole inside. You suspect it’s not. “Miniature stun gun,” he says proudly.  

“Very cool,” you say, impressed. “What about your thumb.” 

He chortles, and gives you a thumbs up. The tip opens, and a little flame peeks out, steady and orange. 

“Very handy, if you’re going to an Aerosmith concert thirty years ago,” you tease. 

“What’s an Aerosmith?” 

Your eyes widen. “You don’t - you don’t know?” 

“I don’t have a lot of memories from thirty years ago,” Bucky points out.  

“Then you gonna learn, pal. Come on.” Bravely you grasp his hand - disregarding that he might want to leave, that he’s not interested in music - it doesn’t matter. There’s a single lamp lighting your living room, and you turn on the stereo. Still holding his hand.  

The music starts. You turn to face him, pleased to see the interest in his expression as he nods his head. So you sing along, tossing your head back to mimic Steve Tyler’s voice.  

“Come here, baby You know you drive me up a wall the way you make good on all the nasty tricks you pull Seems like we're makin' up more than we're makin' love...” 

Without realizing it, you’ve pulled Bucky in to a dance. He doesn’t protest, snaking his hand around your waist and pulling you close, pajamas and all. He’s smiling down at you, with an expression you don’t fully understand. But it’s enticing enough to keep you interested. 

“I go crazy, crazy, baby, I go crazy You turn it on Then you're gone Yeah you drive me Crazy, crazy, crazy, for you baby What can I do, honey I feel like the color blue…”

“I like this song,” he says, during a guitar solo. He’s swaying just so, his flesh hand shifting to nudge your hips to the slow beat.  

“Do you?” you ask. “Or do you like me? Hmm?” 

Bucky smiles. “How about both?”

“Okay.” Your fingers inch over to his hair, where you stroke the end of his braid. He still has the braids in. And - “You still have my hair tie,” you tell him with a pretend scowl. “You little thief!” 

“And you’ve stolen my thoughts all day,” Bucky snarks back. “We’re even.”

That kind of lovin' Makes me wanna pull Down the shade, yeah That kind of lovin' Yeah now I'm never, never, never, never gonna be the same…

The steps have slowed. But Bucky’s hold on you tightens. His eyes - oh gosh, those eyes - riveted, you catch your breath as his face grows near. Tentatively his lips brush against yours, hot and promising. Your heart is threatening to leap from your chest, and you can’t help smiling as he pulls away with pink cheeks. 

”Wait until I tell my mom that a guy I learned about in high school history has the hots for me,” you tease. 

“Ha, ha.” But he rests his cheek against your hair, all the same. I'm losin' my mind, girl 'Cause I'm goin' crazy I need your love, honey I need your love…” 

The song ends. You don’t want to stop dancing.  

“So, what do you think?” Bucky asks quietly, to the silence. 

“About what?” you murmur back. His embrace is really too warm. 

“Me. Us. You know.” 

You lift your head, holding his gaze as his eyes glitter on your face. Drinking you in. Even if he’s not terribly eloquent, you understand him perfectly. He lowers his head to nudge his nose to yours. You scrunch your face - he’s so cute. How could you say no?  

“I could probably lose my job, if...if we were to start dating,” you confess. 

“Then wouldn’t I lose mine, too?” Bucky asks. 

“Nah. You’re too important.” 

“Not that important,” he mutters. “But maybe enough that I can make sure you don’t get fired.” 

So. Cute. “Maybe we don’t have to tell anyone, so no one gets fired,” you whisper back. His hand is trailing up on your back, and you nearly moan aloud. Bucky has very good hands. Just strong enough to entice, but not so much to hurt... 

“Okay.” It’s barely a breath, but it flares the embers in your belly to life as Bucky kisses you again, no longer gentle, but hungry and fierce. 

How long have you known him, now? Twelve hours? Thirteen? You are so lost.

Bucky is tugging you towards the couch, gasping for air between kisses as you tug at his shirt. But you push him down first, straddling his legs as he stares up at you. In wonder. Oh, you like this. You draw his shirt all the way over his head, and nearly salivate on him.  

Later. You can salivate later.  

Fervently you begin to kiss him again, cupping his face in your hands as you squirm; he’s yanking at your shorts, at your top. With no luck, of course. You’re nearly about to get off so he can get them off, when a ripping sound pops your head back up.  

Bucky is smiling up at you. Sheepishly. Definitely ruefully. 

“Punk,” you mutter, feeling his cold metal fingertips on the bare flesh of your hips.  

“Next time, don’t bother with the underwear,” he retorts. You giggle, and kiss him again. Next time. Oh, good, a next time… 

You’re too impatient to bother pushing off his jeans the rest of the way, and clearly he is, too. Tossing his belt carelessly over your shoulder, you let his pants stay at his knees. The sensation of his hot flesh against the sensitive skin of your thighs makes you moan aloud, and Bucky wastes no time pulling your top off. His mouth finds your breasts, and you moan again, louder this time.  

“You’re killin’ me,” he rasps, between kisses. 

“Not if you kill me first.”  

“Is this a competition, now?” Bucky’s eyes are glittering.  

“Are you gonna make it one?” you tease back.  

Tangling your fingers into the braids in his hair, you pull his head back to kiss him again. But Bucky pulls away, his fingers ghosting along your jaw to tilt it upwards so he can taste your throat. His lips are hot. Oh...there will definitely be marks there. But right now, you don’t care. Especially when his flesh fingers travel between your legs. Your eyes flutter shut with a moan.  

“I’m ready,” you tell him breathlessly.

“I can tell.” There’s laughter in his voice, and you peek open an eye to see him gazing fondly up at you. That smile. It makes your heart stutter, and carefully he guides your hips to align with his… 

Oh, it’s so good. So, so good.  

You find his mouth again, kissing him for all you’re worth as you grind against him, drawing low groans from his throat. His hands are everywhere; guiding your hips, tracing your waist, stroking your breasts. It’s like he knows exactly how to bring your entire body to life...oh, he is good.  

With another groan, he leans his head on the back of the couch, bracing himself as he thrusts back. A whimper falls from your lips.  

“Baby…” he starts in a husky voice, his breathing short. “I - I can’t call you agent now - ” 

You’re laughing as the pleasure bursts through every nerve of your body. A slower pace and a moment later, Bucky tugs your face close to kiss you deeply as his hips stutter against yours, and stop.  

“That was good,” he says a moment later. His nose is buried in your hair as he breathes deeply. You keep your eyes closed, content just to smell his musky, masculine scent all around you. You pull away to gaze down at him; his eyes are shining warmth and affection, and the tips of his fingers start to trace circles down your bare arms. 

“Really good,” you agree. 

“We should do that again, just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke.”  

Bucky Barnes is a flirt. A conniving little flirt. You love it.  

“Well, I don’t have any plans tonight,” you tease.

“I do,” Bucky says fervently. “I’m intend to get to know you better than anyone. Even Fury, if you know what I mean.” You laugh - because you do know what he means, however perverted it sounds.  

In the cold grey of dawn, you whisper your name in his ear. 

~ 

“And last order of business…” Tony Stark trails off. The effect of building up to something exciting pays off - Clint jolts awake, and Sam quickly puts away his doodles of Iron Man crash landing into a trampoline. “We will be welcoming Agent 28 as a contractual member of our team. She’s worked well with us, and proven her worth. Fury agreed that we can have her part time.” 

“But can she endure Clint walking around without his socks on?” Sam asks.  

“I once sat in a dumpster for two days just to catch a gangster,” you tell him, before anyone else can speak on your behalf. “I’ve smelled things nearly as bad. I have a strong stomach.” 

“Ha, ha,” says Clint, without humor.  

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Bucky studying your face intently from across the table. He’s not subtle - someone’s going to pick up on him. You straighten your shoulders, and meet his gaze in challenge. His lips twitch upwards. 

“Then that’s all for today. Class dismissed.” 

It had been a long briefing; a summary of the mission you’d completed, upcoming events (mostly galas and charity gigs), and a reminder that as there are no housekeeping services, everyone needs to wash their dishes before any science experiments begin to grow.  

The team begins to file out. Steve congratulates you as he passes you; you thank him with a smile, not blind to the way Bucky is bristling with jealousy. Because Steve spoke to you? Bucky’s going to have it rough, with you. 

You linger all the same, standing slowly until you’re the last one in the conference room. Well, one of the last.  

“Agent,” Bucky says in a clipped voice, standing with his arms crossed.  

“Sergeant,” you reply, with a toss of your hair as you mosey for the door. Natasha is still within earshot down the hall, but you can walk a little slower.

“I’m not done with you,” he growls. “We need to talk about…”

You glance back, lifting a brow. 

“...the way you clean your handguns. It’s not safe.” 

Laughter threatens. “Oh, please. I’ve been cleaning my own guns for years. And no one else has put up a stink about it.” 

Bucky is strolling around the table, his eyes glittering dangerously on yours. You stand tall, unwilling to back down. 

“Why the criticism, Sergeant?” you say in a much quieter voice, as he pauses at the door. Only two steps away. You smirk. “Want me to clean yours for you?” 

He blinks, momentarily distracted. Then a creeping grin grows on his face. “Yes,” Bucky says, and his voice breaks on the word.  

“Come on, then. We’d better find someplace more...private.” You crook a finger in his direction. He obviously nearly melts at this - a shudder goes through his shoulders, and his eyes darken as he stifles a groan. With your head high, you stroll into the hall. 

There’s a janitorial closet two doors down. Perfect. Without even a glance at any security cams (you or Bucky can erase the footage later), you walk straight in, closing the door after he enters behind you. In the dark, his ragged breathing is very audible.  

“Well now, Sergeant,” you say softly, tugging at the front of his jacket. “Let me show you how I do it.”

[icedcappujaeno]

03. Signal. | jjh. [ idol!au ]

warnings: none in particular.

word count: 1,547

“There’s something on your sandwich.”

Before you could even react, Soomin was already taking the sandwich off your hands, peeled the piece of paper away and gave it back to you. Your stomach growled for the 3rd time today and it was only 10A.M. - and the only meal that was in your stomach right now was the small cup of coffee your manager made for you before going to your respective schedules. Now, you’re inside the dressing room, taking a break for at least 10 minutes before your respective make-up artists and hairdresser do their works on your trio.

To say that you’re hungry was an understatement. Famished seemed to fit better with how badly you want to take a bite off the sandwich you’re holding right now. Though you try your best not to roll your eyes and grunt as it was deemed unfit for a lady-like idol like you, you still did. Voluntarily.

“Let me guess, it’s from Valentine’s boy again?” Mari giggled, taking a bite off her own sandwich as well. “I wish Chanyeol-sunbae would do the same for m-ouch!”

You glared and pinched your co-worker’s side before she could even end her statement. All the while she’s talking, you finished your share - all in hunger. Your female manager was glaring daggers at your direction but you heed no mind - what is etiquette and public figure when you’re dying of hunger in any moment?

Also, you did glare at your other manager, who was a male. It was him who went to the cafeteria and got your snacks, and apparently, he was an asset to all these stuff. He only shrugged and chuckled, so he was taking part in this - why was it so fun to tease you with Jaehyun?

“What did it say?” Mari cooed, leaving her seat beside yours to scoot beside Soomin. 

“For the meantime, I hope this will do. But next time, I want to take you out on a romantic dinner for two. - JH”

Soomin and Mari looked at each other with knowing smiles on their lips. 

“Gross!” 

“But it’s still sweet Soomin! And it rhymes too!” Mari laughed, slapping Soomin’s thigh out of habit.

You only blew a raspberry, and your manager thanked all the heavens that your hair isn’t done yet as your hands ran through your hair in frustration - forehead lightly bumping the tabletop. You were sure it will leave a red mark - but whatever, your make-up artist would do something about it anyway.

“Why don’t you just tell it to him straight?” Soomin shrugged, picking one of the sliced apples from her plate. “It’s been months, I kinda feel pity for the guy.”

“He’s going to be enlisted next year!” Mari reminded. “At least give him a chance? I mean, he’s pretty cute-”

“Why don’t you date him then?” You jabbered and raised your head. 

“Ah, Jaehyun’s not really my type. I told you, Chanyeol-su-”

“I get it,” your eyes rolled annoyingly. Although sometimes Mari’s crush over your seniors are cute, it gets overboard. But now you know she’s just teasing you. Everybody does.

“Break’s over, let’s get back to work,” your female manager said, cleaning up the left-overs at your table while the three of you go back to your respective places to get dolled up for music core.

“This came in the mail.”

A bouquet is thrown on your bed by your female manager while you were busy putting make-up on. You were glad she came in with notice because you were sure that your make-up will get ruined once she didn’t. Another thing you’re sure of was the sender of the said bouquet, and looking at your manager’s expression through the mirror, she wasn’t very happy about it.

“Message him to stop, please.” Though you weren’t pleading, rather than a command. You could only sigh and nodded, saying that you will and she left. You picked up your phone and took a deep breath before typing in his name on the recipient bar.

It only took you seconds before you received a reply.

You sighed. Pretty sure this is going to be a long conversation. You know he’s joking, but the topic isn’t going anywhere intellectual.

Finally.

You locked your phone and continued with your make-up. You were glad that you woke up earlier than expected, so you had a lot of time to prepare for an appearance at a music festival later at night. For a moment, you felt weird with Jaehyun’s final reply. It felt odd but you carried on, and just when you finished your brows, his message tone ringed and your phone lit up.

Ugh!

Jaehyun was at his peak. 

A solo single coming out to the public in 2 days, which concludes fan signs on the following weeks during the promotion. Music shows and award show appearances. Another recording for collaboration for SMTOWN Station in the next month. Jaehyun did have time, but it was all cramped on his busy, idol, schedule. 

All while the others are still in the military, Jaehyun and the remaining had to carry their group name, as well as keep the sales coming for the company. The idol industry isn’t just entertainment, after all. In the end, it was business -- the rest of those who still haven’t enlisted must carry on.

And because Jaehyun is going to be enlisted for the next year and a half - it was only necessary that the company utilize each member, especially Jaehyun. In this current generation, Jaehyun is a King - all with his god-like visuals and heaven-sent voice, it was sure that he’ll be stable until his enlistment.

But all that, King Jaehyun is lonely. Sure, his entire body and soul is dedicated to his work - it’s his life. But his heart was needing something - someone to fill its void. And he was pursuing that need, the need that was you.

“Have you heard?”

Soomin asked, looking directly at your eating figure. You were slurping on a cup of ramyeon as you watched The King of Masked Singer with your team: squished between you and your female manager was Mari while Soomin rests her head on your crossed legs.

“Heard what?” You replied, slurping on another set of noodles.

Soomin wiped her face in disgust while some of the ramyeon soup went on her face. “God, I wish our fans could see how much of a pig you are.”

“Whatever,” you replied.

“What were you going to say Soomin?” Mari asked, eyes still glued on the TV. It was very much expected of Mari not to forget rumors — but not choreo. You still love her anyway.

“Jaehyun was rushed to the hospital just this afternoon.”

You coughed, dropping some blessing onto Soomin’s face causing her to jump.

“Ya!”

Thankfully there was a nightstand beside the couch where you placed your ramyeon. You wiped your mouth from the droplets of spicy and salty ramyeon and immediately fished your phone from the side of the couch and dialed Jaehyun’s number.

The other line answered, Jaehyun’s voice resonating through.

“Yes hello? It’s rare for you to call,” you hear him chuckle.

“Are you okay sunbae?” 

“What do you mean?” 

Your brows raised with his question — confusion was written all over your face. Soomin shrugged and stood from where she sat, Mari and your manager following you. As soon as they had their backs on you, they giggled, making you miss the smug grins on their faces.

“Hello? Still there?” Jaehyun asked on the line.

“Yes, Soomin told me you were rushed to the hospital—“

“I’m perfectly fine,” he laughs. “I think you just missed me.”

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Proven, you were stupid enough to fall for Soomin and Mari’s tricks. You were thankful that Jaehyun can’t see your face as you were sure that your face is as red as a tomato right now.

“I’m just worried…” with threaded words you replied.

“Sure you do,” and sure you were that he was being sarcastic. 

“Sunbae…” You could only flop your butt back on the couch, palming your forehead of how much dumb you are.

“Well, I’m glad that my baby missed me, but break’s over and I have to head back to practice,” he chuckled.

“Alright,” you sighed. Yes, you heard the name he called you, but you were sure that if you mention it more, more teasings would come your way. You decided to pretend that you didn’t hear it. “Goodluck with practice, Jaehyun-sunbae.”

You hear the line go silent that you thought he ended it without you noticing, but when you looked at the screen, he was still on. You put your phone back beside your ear and hummed. “Sunbae, put the line down.”

“Why don’t you go first?” His tone was teasing—you could almost see the smugness written all over his features.

“Alright. Bye sunbae.”

With that, you pressed the red button on your phone and tossed it aside—The King of Masked Singer already on its ending cue.

On the other line, however, was Jaehyun lying on the hospital bed, IV inserted on his median cubital. His lips tugged into a smile as the call ended as your photo with him flashed on the screen.

“Hard to get, are we?”

the third fic for @jackbabewang and I’s drabble game! check out her work here!