#there's another thing I have where Steve is a drag queen and it's about platonic stobin what dya think about??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heart-eye-harrington · 4 years

Text

the last midnight ~ chapter three

(gif by @harringtown, thank you for letting me steal it <3)

Summary: Every aspect of Prince Steve’s life is mapped out with one objective in mind: become king when the time comes. The day of the ball has arrived, and everyone from the castle and village are making preparations. You and Steve find help from very different places.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: brief mentions of grief

Author’s Note: Hi! I hope you’re doing well! I’m very excited for this chapter and for the rest of the series as a whole! Thank you for your continued support! ♡

read the last part here

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★

The day of the ball had arrived, and the castle’s inhabitants were in a fussing frenzy. The servant’s usual buzzing seemed to be amplified to rumbling thunder. Their words roll in through the open door of Steve’s bed chamber and begin bombarding his ears. Things such as the astronomical size of the guest list, the work being done in the ballroom, and the preparations on the royal family’s outfits only amplify the booming cacophony of dread.

Steve does his best to ignore how it goes straight to his pounding heart, hastily throwing on his lounging clothes and combing his fingers through his hair, enjoying the time he has to not be a perfect polished prince. He knows the stylists will come around later in the day to mold him in that image, but for now, he can get away with wild hair and loose flowy blouses.

He looks at himself in the mirror and for a moment, things are okay. He’s just a boy. He’s not a future king, no royal title attached to his name. The weight of the world is lifted from his shoulders, because why should it be there? He’s just a boy.

The anxious cloud slowly rolls in once again, the muffled conversation between guards stationed outside his door dashing the mirage.

“Hard to imagine the prince will choose a bride tonight. Part of me feels bad for the boy. Sure, a princess may grow to like him, but never love. How could they, when their love life is a bargaining chip? He may never know real love.”

Their words were the lightning strike. A menacing storm had been gradually collecting discomfort provoked by talks of this evening, but life could continue despite it. This was the danger that could not be ignored. The pounding heartbeat in Steve’s ears fizzled away, only leaving him with the realization he’d been pushing down for years.

Love was never in the cards for him. It never fit into his parents’ plan. Kings don’t need love, they need power. The only time they need a person beside them is to strengthen that power. To his parents, a queen was nothing more than another piece in the puzzle. They would make the kingdom look more secure, gain allies and resources, and produce an heir, and the vicious cycle continues.

“He may never know real love”

It bounces around his head before eventually sinking to his heart, dragging it down to his stomach. His huge room seems to shrink around him, his feet dragging him out into the corridor before the walls suffocate him. Steve only gets a moment of relief before he meets the guard’s worried eyes emphasized with raised eyebrows. The act of being seen, not merely looked at, is so alarmingly out of place he feels the bile in his stomach turn. He needs to go, and there’s only one place where he feels safe in the castle.

The familiar sounds of clinking metal and hearty laughter lets him know the room’s usual inhabitants are inside. Peaking through the cracked door he sees Robin and her father, both in full practice uniforms, chasing one another around with blunt practice swords at the ready. The sounds of padded running echos throughout the large gymnasium.

The sight before Steve is a break in the downpour, a ray of light through the dark clouds. They were what made this room safe, for in these walls he was just a boy with a friend, a teacher, and a sword. Part of him doesn’t want to disturb them, but any chance of that is dashed when Robin spots the gleam in his eyes through the cracked door.

“Father, I think we may have an intruder” her tone airy and playful. The captain quickly catches on, joining in on her fun. “Oh, well, we can’t have that, now can we? They’ll have to fight there way out of this”

In one fell swoop, he pulls open the door to reveal a giddy Steve and throws him his sword. Steve’s surprised he reflexes are quick enough to catch it before it hits the marble floor. The celebration doesn’t linger, Robin already taking her stance for their battle. Once Steve folds an arm behind his back and extends his sword, mirroring Robin, the fight is on. Robin’s father ducks out fo the room with a sweet goodbye, knowing they don’t need supervision and that this would not be ending soon.

The teens go back and forth, lunging and dodging with expert timing, only fitting for the hours they’ve spent in these walls. As relentless as the fight is, Steve can’t keep his mind from wandering. Dodging Robin’s blade dislodged his guard’s words from the hiding place his mind shoved then into.

As much as he’s come to terms with never finding love, he can’t help but imagine it. Someone laughing at his jokes because they find him funny, not out of courtesy or because they want to impress him. Someone that would look for him first in a crowded room, no matter the crowd’s wealth, power, or charm.

Someone that would reach for his hand instinctively, whether for comfort, out of overwhelming joy, or anywhere in between. With their hand in his everything in the world would be okay, because the person standing beside him is the world now, and they’re so good.

He wanted someone he would miss deeply even if it were just the first day they had been apart since meeting.

Steve keeps finding himself back in the village, kids weaving around him to sit by the fountain. His mind replays the first moment he saw you. The way the sun caught your eyes like they were precious jewels deserving nothing less than to be shown off. Your smile was contagious, not being able to be contained on your face, spilling to everyone who laid eyes on you. The rising sun behind you softened any edges, as if your personality weren’t inviting enough.

One part of your story sticks out.

Before fear grips the prince, the princess holds his hand. In that moment, he knows she’s his true love, and that he would fight any creature to keep her safe, for the touch of a hand cannot be altered by magic. No magic spell can mask or mimic the way a person’s hand makes you feel.

He’s pulled abruptly from his thoughts when he feels Robin’s blade resting against his collar. She’s clearly won the fight, laughing in his face in celebration. Steve pouts, head nodding back and pursuing his lips.

“Wake up your royal highness, you’re in a daze” Robin made sure to emphasize his title, knowing he hates it.

“I’m sorry” his response breathy, almost dream-like. She knows he was distracted, he never let her win this easily. She traces back to the last time they fought last time, and realizes it was before their escape to the town. A mischievous grin pulls her lips as her mind makes the correlation.

“You’ve been off since our adventure” a smug suggestive smile on her lips. Suddenly her gaze is too much for Steve, who turns to the table stationed at the opposite end of the room, stacked with towels for sweat. After hearing her footsteps behind him, he knows there’s no escape, so he gushes.

“It’s the person we saw at the fountain, the one who was telling the stories to the children. I can’t stop thinking about them.”

“Well, there are plenty of people out there.” Robin winks, but Steve is having none of it

“Ah, but their spirit, their goodness.” He can feel the smile creep on to his face just thinking about them.

“You don’t suppose they have a sister, do they?” Robin raises a brow, and Steve can’t help but chuckle, “I don’t know. I don’t know anything about them.”

“Well, hopefully, your mystery stranger may come to the ball. That is why you threw the doors open, is it not?” They both laugh at the memory of his portrait painting and confrontation with his parents.

“Robin, it was for the benefit of the people.”

She raises her hands defensively “Oh, of course. How shallow of me”

After a beat, Steve thinks aloud “And if they come, then what?” Robin mulls it over for a moment, “then you tell them that you’re a prince, and a prince may take whatever partner he wishes.”

“Ha” sarcasm drips from the single syllable.

“Ha?” Robin questions,

“Yes, ha. You know my parents will only have me marry a princess.” Steve groans.

Robin hums, fully aware of their royal highness’s stupid rules, but caring more about her friend. “Well if this stranger from the village is as charming as you say, they may change your parents’ minds. They are a fairy godmother in training. A flick of their wand and boom, problem solved.”

“Hm, problem solved.” A sad smile tugs his lips. If only it were that easy.

“You never know. You know what my father says, words are your greatest weapon. You saw what they can do to those kids in the village, I’m sure they can charm your parents.” She gives a playful nudge but instead of pushing back, he succumbs to it, allowing the soft push to move him. A smile still plays his lips, but he feels numb, as if shielding himself from what’s to come. Hope, he’s learned, is a strong gift. It’s one he’s barely received, ripped from his hands as soon as he’s united the ribbon.

Robin’s quick to wrap her arms around him in an awkward side hug, resting her head on his arm. Neither of them are good at showing affection, their platonic love language shown in jokes and jabs, but how could she not hug him? Steve leans down a bit to rest his head on top of hers, his hands coming up to clutch her arm.

They stay like that, two people who have been thrown into extraordinary circumstances who were able to find one another. They each thanked their lucky stars every night that they had found each other.

A knock comes to the door, and a messenger peeks through. “Sorry to disturb you, your highness, but the style team is ready for you.”

With one last squeeze to Robin’s arm, he nods to the messenger, acknowledging it’s time to go. As he begins to walk away, Robin runs behind him and rustles his hair, “good luck Prince Charming.”

“Thanks, Robin. Can’t wait to see what they put you into.” He jokes, knowing how much Robin hates formal events and the guard’s formal uniforms.

“Oh, it won’t be half as beautiful as yours. I’m sure you’ll knock’em dead.” She sends him off with a wink and a wave. Steve shakes his head, returning the gesture. As he finds himself being passed from hairstylist to seamstress, he thinks of Robin. Not only has she given him friendship, but the gift of hope, and he can practically feel the silk ribbon it’s tied in. With each stitch of a button and comb of his hair, he can’t help but smile, for with each step he’s one step closer to you.

He hoped to see you again soon.

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★

Your shoes click against the cobblestone streets as you rush back to the bakery. With the prince’s open invitation to the village to attend the ball came a glimmer of hope that you would see Steve the apprentice again. To say you were enormously excited would be an understatement.

You rush through the door, practically skipping as you tell your father the news. He dusts the flour from his hands, placing them on his hips as you ramble on and on.

“Do we have any of mother’s old clothes? I know she had the most beautiful dresses and fabrics, I could easily make something for tonight. It wouldn’t cost much, you know how expensive Esmerelda the seamstress is, especially with such little notice. Oh, father, I can just picture it! I’d have sleeves like this-” as you begin ghosting your fingers over your arms, imagining what you’d look like this evening, your father stops you.

“Sweet pea, we don’t have any of that.” he looks to you with sad eyes, that if you look hard enough you could see his heart breaking behind them.

“W-what?” you don’t want to believe him.

“I know it was wrong, but I couldn’t bear to look at them. I sold all your mother’s dresses and fabrics years ago, right after she passed. Sweet pea, I am so sorry.” his voice a fragile glass, moments away from breaking.

Your first instinct is anger. How could he? She was his wife, but she was your mother. He may have had no use for the clothes and fabrics, but how could he know you wouldn’t? You could grow into them, wear them to keep her close to you. Then you realize what that would do to your father. Seeing his child, the spitting image of his lost wife wearing her clothes. It’d be like seeing her ghost, haunting him. You could never understand his pain or why he did it, as he could never understand yours, but you could try.

“I know father, it’s ok.” you sniffle, quickly trying to hide it with a wipe of your nose. You smile through the stinging in your eyes.

Not another word is exchanged the rest of the day, your father too filled with regret, leaving you to mourn. You mourn your mother and the dream of seeing Steve again. You owned nothing nearly nice enough to attend the ball and would never be able to scramble up enough money to buy something new. So you were left to work the bakery, conversing with excited customers and gazing out the window. You look for any hooded figures with wild hair and curious eyes, but your apprentice friend is nowhere to be found.

With dusk quickly approaching, you know you can’t keep putting off the trip to the waterfall. The thought of walking the same path you had with Steve, but this time without him here, hurt more than you could imagine. You miss deeply, despite having just met him yesterday. It was only the first day you’d been apart since meeting, but it felt like a lifetime.

The forest is beautiful at this time of day. Birds sing love songs, your footsteps on the soft grass adding muffled percussion. Golden orange light breaks through the tree canopy, dancing on the rich green of the forest floor. Soon you hear the distance padding of water upon the rocks, reassuring that you weren’t far from your destination.

Through the trees, you hear a muted cry for help. The voice is weak, urging your feet to run to it faster.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” you yell as you run, equal parts hoping that they’ll answer so you can better find them and alerting them that someone is coming to help.

“Right here, sweetpea.” The use of the nickname makes your stomach twist, but still allowing you to find whoever needs help. You’re able to spot them, at the base of a nearby tree sits an elderly woman. You’re quickly kneeling by her side and asking if she needs any help.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any spare food, would you?” without hesitation you reach into the pocket of your apron where you’d stuffed a blueberry scone for your dinner. You offer it to her with a smile.

“Oh, but my dear, this is your dinner.”

“Please, I hope you’ll take it. You need it more than me.” You fold it into her hand and within seconds she’s gnawing on the pastry. Through the crumbs in her mouth, she laughs.

“Hope, hm. What a powerful word.” You give her a perplexed but kind nod, not expecting such an ominous statement. The scone is quickly devoured, the only signs it was here are the crumbs on the woman’s dress and a burp.

“Now, sweet pea, we don’t have much time.” There’s the nickname again.

“Only my father calls me that. My apologies, but do I know you?” your question innocent.

“Who am I? I’d have thought you’d have worked that one out, seeing as the town considers you my apprentice.” A wicked smile pulls her lips thin. You’re left utterly lost. “I’m your fairy godmother, sweet pea.”

“You can’t be.” You laugh lightly to yourself. “They don’t exist. They’re just made up for children.”

“Didn’t your own mother believe in them?” her words take the breath from your lungs. How did she know your mother? As your mind begins racing, the woman stands and pulls a wand from her sleeve. With a simple wave, she’s transformed into a beautiful young woman in an enormous ballgown. Stacked ruffles cascade down the sides of the full skirt, each layer a shade darker than the one above.

“Now, my dear, you can’t go to the ball in that” she gestures to your clothes with her wand. “Let’s get you into something more suitable.”

With a flick of her wrist, a poof of blue dust flicks from the end of her wand and dances toward you. It covers your clothes and begins to glow, expanding, stretching, and fluffing the worn cotton on your body. You can’t help but twirl, laughing as the magic transforms you. When the dust settles, you’re left in a beautiful blue fabric that shines in the glow of the setting sun. The icing on the cake comes when you look at your feet, finding your shoes are made of glass.

“Oh, it’s wonderful. Thank you, thank you.” You know your voice could never convey just how thankful you were. When you meet her eyes you swear you see a bit a sadness, possibly regret, but it’s gone in a flash.

“Now, I just need to whip up a coach and you’ll be on your way.” Another flick of her wrist and a golden coach sits in the meadow. “Now sweet pea, this is a magic coach that doesn’t require horses or footmen. A spell from my spell-book…” She stops herself, catching the slip, “trick I’ve learned in my lovely, beautiful cottage.” All you can do is nod, and follow her as she leads you to the coach.

“Now, sweet pea, all magic comes with a price.” A sudden coldness fills her words and expression. “With the last echo of the last bell of the last stroke of midnight, the spell will be broken and all will return to what it was before.”

“That’s more than enough time. Thank you.” With a final flick of her wand, the coach is moving. You sit back and gaze out the window. With each roll of the wheels and bridge that you’ve crossed, you can’t help but smile, for with each step you’re one step closer to Steve.

You hoped to see him again soon.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington agnst #the last midnight au

34 notes · View notes

amandaoftherosemire · 5 years

Text

Bulletproof -- Part Fourteen

Fandom: Marvel/College AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader, Platonic!Steve Rogers x Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 6,582

Format: Series (Complete)

Warnings: Language, fluff, mild embarrassment

Summary: Steve shows you the finished project. You and Bucky go on your first date.

A/N: Well, we’re about done now; I think this is the penultimate chapter. There will be an epilogue after this, because I want another little bit of fluff and to make sure that any loose ends are tied up, but this felt like the right place to bring things to a tentative close. For everyone who read this and made it through all the chapters where these two morons refused to talk to each other, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Also, what is wrong with you? 😉

Part Thirteen here

Part Fourteen

Steve stood in his studio next to the covered canvases he'd set up before his date the night before and very seriously listened to you bitch him out for not locking the door when he worked. At least, he was trying to be very serious, but he couldn't stop smiling.

He’d been grinning at you since you’d started in on him, actually, but in his defense, you and Bucky were being adorable. The way you'd been snuggled up with Bucky on the couch told him the two of you had come to some understanding. The way Bucky was following you like a puppy with a dopey grin on his face told Steve that understanding included something romantic.

Steve couldn’t work up the slightest bit of worry about you, however. It was abundantly clear that whatever the understanding was, you were in charge of it. Bucky was following your lead, and mostly happily, except for your insistence that he stay outside the studio while you lectured Steve and looked at the finished art. You'd had to sternly order Bucky to let you go; he'd stayed wrapped around you as you followed Steve back to the studio. With a steely eye and firm slam, you'd shut the door with him on the other side, pouting in the hallway.

Steve couldn't stop wondering, even as you scolded him, how much you and Bucky had talked and whether Bucky had admitted that he was in love with you. He didn't realize he was beaming even as he hoped that you'd finish chewing him out soon so that he could ask you.

"You're lucky all you got was a fist in the face," you were saying, trying to hold back the laugh at the goofy smile Steve was wearing. He was too pretty in his good humor and you were in too good a mood. "And you're damn lucky you're not getting mine in your big dumb grin." You gave up, laughing out loud as you put your fists on your hips. "What are you smiling at? I am yelling at you, Steven."

"You." Steve replied immediately, snatching you up into a big bear hug. "And Bucky." You squealed as he squeezed. "Is it official now? Or should I have given Loki your number? He asked when I returned the coat."

Your smile sparkled with all the happiness you'd woken with; the first thing you'd seen that morning had been Bucky's bright blue eyes, his sweet smile. After starting the day making love to you, Bucky had then made you breakfast. When you'd started reluctantly talking about returning to your studies, he'd done whatever you'd needed to set up a study spot in their living room rather than let you leave again.

"Is what official?" You shot Steve a wicked grin as you raised your voice loud enough to make sure Bucky could hear you from where you assumed he was eavesdropping. Steve set you back down to shoot you an amused look.

"Yes!" Bucky opened the door to the studio a crack to make sure his voice was crystal clear as he snarled. He'd had his ear pressed to the door to hear what you said to Steve, waiting for the lecture to end in the hopes you'd start talking about him. The idea of another fucking Odinson trying to take you from him sent a shudder of rage through him. He'd be damned if he'd let anyone, least of all Thor's dark brother, take you without a fight. "It's official, dammit. Don't you give that guy shit, Steve."

"Oh, that," you smiled, a little smug to hear the note of jealousy in Bucky's voice. It was nice to not be the only one that suffered from that particular affliction. "Yes, I agreed to let Bucky be my boyfriend. I mean, he wouldn't stop begging and pleading and groveling--"

"She's joking," Bucky cut you off and you could hear the smirk in his voice, "but I would have. Still will, if it comes to it."

"Are you sucking up so I'll let you in here?" Your lips were twitching as you asked the question, but Steve was having to cover his mouth with his hand to stop the chuckles from escaping. He was having an absolute blast watching the two of you flirt and enjoy one another. All he'd ever wanted was the two of you happy. Happy together was a bonus.

Bucky sounded painfully forlorn as he answered, "Yes. I miss you."

You rolled your eyes at Steve, but your heart was melting, and you couldn't shut him out any longer. It was stupid, but you missed him, too. Hell, the idea of being apart had been so unappealing you'd gone to the trouble of dragging all your stuff over to study rather than leave him.

You stalked over to the door and swung it open to find Bucky on the other side, leaning dramatically against the wall and looking adorably sad. You grabbed him by the hand and pulled him into the room with an exasperated groan. "Fine. Come on, you big baby."

You shot Steve an indulgent smile. "I'm in too good a mood for punishments or yelling today. Both of you should take the reprieve and be grateful."

"Done." Steve shrugged and moved to stand next to the first painting, taking the cloth covering in his hand. “Does that mean we’re also done keeping secrets?” he asked hopefully.

“Go ahead,” you allowed, amused with him. Steve had never been terribly comfortable with subterfuge and keeping secrets from Bucky, of all people, had been brutally difficult for him. “No more secrets, no more assumptions,” this with a sidelong look at Bucky, who’d thrown his arm over your shoulders to pull you into his side, “no more hiding.” You finished with a nod to Steve who grinned widely and pulled the cloth to the floor.

“The Wounded Faerie Queen,” Steve said into the hush that fell over both you and Bucky. He looked away as he bundled the sheet up into a wad and turned, blushing, to throw it onto the couch along the far wall. He was painfully gratified and relieved that you both seemed impressed, though the pain on Bucky’s face was breaking his heart.

You weren’t impressed; you were awed. You’d known Steve had talent. You’d believed in him and his art with everything you had. But you hadn’t known he had this in him. He hadn’t simply made you beautiful; he’d made you stunning.

The Queen stood, pretty and poised, in the bright clarity of pastels. She was golden and glorious, walking down a flight of warm marble stairs with her skirts bunched in her fists. Steve had given her a Grecian hairstyle to match the gold chiton that both veiled and highlighted the curves of your body. Vines and ivy twined around more marble, and the light around her almost seemed to pulse with her power.

Though everything around her was touched with that warm and golden light, her majesty was cold as ice, with a sharply arched brow and pursed lips that spoke of disdain and disillusionment. This was a queen who'd had to defend her throne, who’d taken her share of damage doing so.

You didn't know if you could see anything of yourself in either the face or the form, but you weren't sure that your own insecurities weren't standing in the way. Regardless, you recognized the expression, knew the pain and passion you had to endure to create such a thing. You found it hard to believe anyone, even Steve, saw this much beauty in you, felt stripped bare that he saw you this clearly. Still, you hoped the cruel cast to the Queen's features rarely graced your own.

"I swear to god, Steve," you said, your voice low and nearly vicious in its sincerity, "I don't even need to see the rest. If you don't get an A on this project, I will fucking slash your professor's tires."

Bucky continued to stare at the painting, silent and still. He had seen this painting the other night and was amazed anew at its power. The fidelity with which Steve had translated the feel of this expression made him experience it all over again. He shuddered to think of ever losing you, of being shut back out in the cold once more.

You could feel the tension in the arm Bucky had slung around your shoulders, the way it tightened, and turned into his chest, slipping your arms around his waist in comfort. “You okay, Bug?” The melting affection in your voice held such intimate adoration, Steve blushed and had to look away.

Bucky drug his eyes from the painting to look into the warmth beaming out from your face and relaxed with a smile. You loved him. That was the important thing. “Yeah. I was remembering how it used to be. When you looked at me like that all the time.” His smile was genuine, if a bit wry, but you could see the memory of pain around the vulnerable corners of his mouth.

You wrapped your arms around his waist and squeezed. You were sorry that you'd had to hurt him to protect yourself, but you'd needed the time to heal and forgive. You and Bucky had a real chance now. You couldn't regret what you'd done when you knew it to be necessary in the end. “It was damn good armor," you said with a wry smile in return. "But I'm glad I don't need it anymore."

Bucky's face softened with affection as he understood. He looked back at the painting and saw for the first time the pain that lay under the cold disdain on your face. Though this was the look that had made him feel like he no longer existed, thanks to Steve's talent and your words, he could finally see the wounded heart underneath the bulletproof vest.

"You'll never need it again," he promised in a whisper, his eyes direct and intense on yours, "not with me."

Your face spread in a slow smile, your heart soaring. Bucky's throat ached at the sight of your joy. "Enough mush,” you laughed, “before we break poor Steve.”

Steve looked up from the sketchbook he’d grabbed, wanting to capture the image of you and Bucky holding one another and smiling in the first flush of newly found love. He'd never seen that look on Bucky's face before, reverence and rapture. “Don’t mind me,” he said with a chuckle. “You guys are adorable.”

When you glanced over your shoulder to see him sketching, you couldn’t stop the laugh from bursting out of you. “I’m just gonna go ahead and move on to the next since you’re busy.”

Steve waved his hand, keeping his eyes on the page in front of him. He was painfully nervous to see what you thought of the painting you were about to reveal. His feelings about the next work were too powerful; he was terrified to find out what you might think. Your opinion, above all, could make or break him.

You stepped out of Bucky’s embrace to pull the cover from the next easel. When the painting was revealed, a study in oils of the color and feeling of blue, you heard an audible gasp leave your mouth.

The mermaid was simply spectacular.

“Steve.” If Bucky's jaw could reach the floor, it would have. He wasn’t surprised Steve had been able to create this; Bucky was fairly certain Steve could do anything he decided to do. Still, that didn’t stop the overwhelming awe. His friend hadn't created just a painting. Steve had truly created art. “Damn.”

The painting was an oil study in melancholy blues, stormy grays, and sharp greens. The mermaid that dominated the painting sat, tail curled to her side, on an outcropping of rock as sirens are legendarily wont to do. The shimmer of color that danced over meticulously dabbed scales immediately drew the eye. Her tail was an opalescent jewel, the fire of which burned within the heart of the painting.

Her face was largely turned forward, but she looked off into the middle distance, a cold counterpoint to the vibrant beauty of her tail. An expression of such unending sadness, such unfathomable loss lived in her eyes, her mouth, even the set of her shoulders, it brought an ache to the throat. A mane of mermaid hair tumbled around her face, but your heart lived in her eyes.

You didn't know what to say, stunned to see yourself made into something so beautiful, so moving. "Steve, I…" You trailed off, not sure where you were going and feeling tears rising. You cleared them from your throat and said, your eyes still shining. "I'm literally speechless."

Bucky wanted to tease you for that, but he wanted to flatter the both of you more. Steve had found the perfect beauty that lived inside you and translated it to canvas. At the same time, that perfect beauty was inextricably tied to that perfect heart, and this beauty was that odd kind found in grief. Love lost, after all, was still love. Bucky hadn't known such beauty could be found in misery, but he stood slack-jawed in front of it. "I'm not," he said incredulously. "This is fucking gorgeous. You've almost done her justice."

You laughed, but the sound was strangled as you battled the emotion pouring through you. The mermaid sat in the middle of a gray and stormy sea that boiled around her. The wind whipped her improbably long hair into a mad tangle, a tendril of which had fallen across her nose. That stray lock of hair drew attention to the shattered look in her eyes. The corners of her mouth were tight with held back tears.

Rather than the pose you remembered for this, pensively staring into the water below you, Steve had opted for another pose, one where you were sitting up, one arm crossed across your breasts defensively, your hand gripping your upper arm as you curled into yourself. Despite the defensive curl, the mermaid leaned forward, longing in every curve. Though she stared out of the canvas, her eyes were fastened on something only she could see, something that brought her irredeemable grief. You’d never thought to see your own broken heart captured in paint.

You tried to joke in response to Bucky’s flattery, but your voice was weak. “What a liar,” you said absently as you stepped closer. “She's…"

When you trailed off again, mesmerized by what Steve had created, how kind he’d been to your flaws when doing so, he tried to finish it for you. “The Siren Seduced, the best work I've ever done,” he said with a wry smile, “and--"

You cut him off, needing to finish it yourself, wanting to let it go. "What was under the armor." You'd spent too long refusing to look at this. You found it funny that finally doing so was what allowed you to accept and forgive.

Bucky was already wrapping his arms around your waist, both because he didn’t want to stop touching you and because he thought he understood what had put that look on your face. He had. “Babygirl, I’m so sorry.”

You spun to face him, taking his face in your hands to draw it to yours. Your eyes still wet and shining with the unshed tears Steve’s mermaid had inspired, you gazed into his with all the love you had. You kissed him, softly, and shook your head. “No. Stop it. We drank the last of that poison together.” The corners of Bucky’s mouth curved ever so slightly, in the sweet smile you adored. “You forgave me for that,” you nodded at the Faerie Queen, “and I forgave you for this,” another nod toward the mermaid, “so that we could start fresh.”

Your stern demeanor had the desired effect. Bucky couldn’t wallow, even in guilt, not when he had you in his arms, passionate in indignance. His smile crooked and affectionate, he snatched a quick kiss from your mouth. “I love you.”

Your face lit up with such a bright, sparkling smile, it seemed impossible that you’d ever been so sad. “I love you, too,” you chirped back and kissed him again, soft and slow.

“Steve,” you said seriously as you turned to face him, “I changed my mind.” He looked up from his sketchbook, a tinge of bashful pink on his cheeks when you stopped in front of where he was sitting on the stool he habitually used during your sessions. “If you don’t get an A, I’m setting the bitch’s car on fire.”

Steve's face relaxed into a wide, happy smile. He wanted the A, but your opinion, of the mermaid in particular, was of the highest importance. After all, it was your broken heart on display. If you liked her, let alone loved her with the fervor of the devout, as your words and tone indicated, he knew he'd done well. "Considering the way you're escalating, maybe you should see the rest before you have to kill her."

"If the other two are half as gorgeous, I just might." You pulled the pad from Steve's hand to look at the quick sketches of you and Bucky he'd scribbled while you'd been talking. You shot him a grin and wiggled your eyebrows approvingly as you plopped onto his lap. "Let's see the next, Bug."

Bucky grinned at you in Steve's lap and wondered how he'd ever thought you or Steve were attracted to each other. He couldn't be jealous when the two of you, your arm around Steve's neck and his around your waist, looked like siblings. The way you touched each other was chaste to the point of familial. He shook his head and laughed at himself as he pulled the cover from the third canvas.

"I want it."

Steve roared with laughter when the sheet had barely hit the floor and the words were already leaving Bucky's mouth, his voice low and tight with barely restrained lust. At the same time, you were gasping in astonishment and smacking Steve lightly on the back of the head. "Steven!" you admonished. "You made me look like sex on legs!"

Steve leaned back to throw his head back and laugh, which straightened his legs and sent you tumbling out of his lap to the floor. You wanted to curse him, but you were too busy laughing at all three of you, delighted to find that the dynamic of your trio had barely changed even though you and Bucky were now also a separate pair. Steve still teased; he simply added this aspect to his repertoire.

Bucky could only tear his eyes away from the painting when he heard the thump of your body on the floor and the 'oof' it drove from you. "Dammit, Steve," he said when he turned around to find Steve half out of his chair and you giggling on the floor, "if you can't take better care of her, you're not allowed to hold her anymore."

This only sent you and Steve into further gales of laughter, the sound of Bucky's exasperation painfully familiar and deeply missed. Bucky may have changed the admonitions, but he still acted annoyed with you both. He took the hand you'd raised into the air and pulled you to your feet and directly into his arms. "I can't let you go for a second," he purred as he turned, with you under his arm once again, his hand running gently up and down the outside of your arm, to look at the third painting, this one in colored pencils.

"Robin Goodfellow," Steve said, still chuckling, "and she belongs to Miss Sex-On-Legs here." At the happily surprised grin you shot him over your shoulder, he smiled back, his face sweetly affectionate in gratitude. "You should have one, and that's the one that you'll enjoy the most."

You turned back to the piece, your face immediately stretching into a smile at the sight of yourself in a bright green frock coat that hung open enough to expose the curves of your breasts and waist. You had a quiver of arrows on your back and a bow in your hand. The pirate style coat was still short enough to reveal most of your legs, while the edge conveniently preserved a little of your modesty. The grin on your face, however, was pure mischief. Based on the sultry, yet slightly shy, curve to your lips, there was no doubt you were up to something.

Bucky wondered what you'd been planning when Steve had captured this particular expression because he'd seen its more intense sister when he made love to you. He adored it, and to see it captured so beautifully had him utterly enthralled. You could seduce him with a look, and this was the beginning of that quick and easy seduction.

"This one is Bucky's, though," Steve stepped forward to take the last sheet in his fist. As he pulled it away, he finished, "Because you only smile like this for him." He hadn't known he'd be able to give this one to Bucky, but even as he'd painted it, he'd hoped.

When the sheet revealed the bright and bold piece in acrylics, Bucky's jaw dropped again. He stood, amazed, even as you huffed out the breath of an astonished laugh. The work was joyous, bright greens and shimmering golds set off by dark and earthy browns. You lay in the middle of a field of clover, the little green leaves dotting your green-and-brown-veined skin, your hair seeming to grow into the ground beneath you. Your legs were crossed and drawn up a little toward your chest in laughter. Your arms were around your middle like you were holding on as your head tilted backward.

Your face, however, held the bright and happy expression he'd captured the day in the lab when you'd worked on Bucky's arm. For the first time in years, Steve had seen the smile you reserved for Bucky and Bucky alone. When you'd been younger, this smile had beamed out of you whenever Bucky had been particularly tender or affectionate. After the Falling Out, Steve had thought it gone forever.

That day in the lab, he'd seen that bright smile and raced to capture it. But once he'd done so, he'd found that there was something different about the smile you saved for Bucky, something powerful. This smile beamed out of you like light, like you held a sun inside of you, carrying love and joy in equal measure. But the pain and grief of what had come before brought a depth to this smile that hadn't been there before.

The joy was that much more powerful and poignant because the heart that felt it had known loss, and pain, and fear. The love that accompanied it was that much more durable and strong because it came from understanding.

Bucky cleared his throat, captivated by the smile beaming out of the canvas, awed at what his friend had created. He loved this smile, adored making it happen, because it was so pure and genuine. The idea that you only bestowed this gorgeous expression on him made him feel ten feet tall. "What do you call this one?"

"Winter's End."

Bucky tightened his arm around your shoulders, catching your eye when you glanced his way, the smile from the painting shining on your face, dazzling him. He huffed out an amazed breath, astonished at how his life had changed, how he'd gotten everything he ever wanted in this surprising spring. "Perfect."

Bucky walked into the living room of his apartment already tugging at the collar of the gray button-down he'd tucked into black slacks. He hated anything resembling a suit, had always been more comfortable in a t-shirt and jeans, but he sure as hell wasn't going casual on his first date with you. Hell, he'd been in love with you for half of his life; the least he could do was put on a jacket when he took you out for the first time, officially.

And he hadn't needed his mother to tell him that. He'd already picked out what he was going to wear when she called to check in that afternoon. She'd been painfully relieved when you'd become friends again; though both of you had played down the extent of the rift when talking to her, she knew her babies and neither of you had fooled her. The squeal of joy she'd let out when he'd told her during that afternoon's call that the two of you had gotten together was still ringing in his ears. Winnifred had sternly admonished him not to screw up before telling him to put on a blue tie to match his eyes.

Bucky'd torn the damn thing off almost as soon as he'd put it on and felt like an idiot.

"Is it stupid that I'm nervous?" He asked Steve, and to a lesser extent, Peggy, the two of whom were sitting on the living room couch watching a movie and discussing their plans for the evening. He'd only met Peggy that afternoon, though he already approved. She was a cool English rose with the mouth and body of a pin-up girl. Even better, she had a steel-trap mind and soft eyes when she looked at Steve.

Steve shrugged without taking his eyes from the screen. "I mean…"

Peggy's lips twitched when Bucky flopped into the recliner with a dramatic sigh and Steve studiously ignored him. "You should ask her that question," she murmured quietly, but with calm assurance.

Bucky's eyes narrowed, but he considered it. "I should?" he asked, not skeptically but wanting to make sure she wasn't fucking with him. If she was friends with you, he had no doubt she had a wicked sense of humor.

Peggy smiled and Bucky could see exactly what so attracted Steve. It was clear that she was as good as she was pretty. "Trust me."

"You look fucking beautiful." The words were out of Bucky's mouth before he was thinking about them the moment you opened your door that evening. Knowing he wanted to make this first date special, you'd gone to some serious trouble.

Making good on your promise, now that finals were over, you'd spent the afternoon getting ready, pampering your skin, doing your makeup and hair. You’d even pulled out a dress you'd bought nearly a year before but had never worn when you'd realized it matched Bucky's eyes.

You grinned appreciatively at the unusual sight of Bucky in a suit; the open collar made you want to press your lips to the hollow of his throat. He’d gotten a haircut, trimming the almost chin length locks to above his ears, but still long enough on top that it looked soft. Your fingers almost itched to comb through it. "Right back at ya, Buck," you purred and bit your lip.

Your shy sultry smile had him chuckling as he relaxed. He slipped his arms around your waist and snatched a quick kiss from your lips. "For some dumb reason," he said as he squeezed you once and let go, "I was so nervous, but now that I'm looking at you…" He lifted his hand to trace the line of your jaw with his thumb.

The idea that after all these years, after everything you'd been through and done together, that Bucky could still worry about impressing you on a first date had your heart melting, as did your body as you flowed against him. "You were nervous?" you asked as you slid your arms around his neck and nuzzled your mouth against his.

Bucky slid his arms back around your waist to pull you close as he thought, Note to self: do what Peggy says. "Is that stupid?" he asked before brushing his mouth gently against yours.

"Maybe," you breathed, "but it still makes me want to drag you in here and--"

"Can you not?" Gamora's voice carried from the living room and you wondered how the hell she even heard you.

Bucky's arms tightened once before letting you go. "Shall we?" he snickered, offering you his arm.

"Since G is such a buzzkill," you laughed back as you took it and closed the door behind you on Gamora’s quiet chuckle.

Bucky realized why he'd been nervous very shortly after being seated in the restaurant. He'd wanted to take you someplace nice enough to have great food, but not so fancy that the two of you couldn't have any fun. When he recognized the server as a woman with whom he'd had a very brief affair, he cursed inwardly, viciously and deeply profane.

The slow, seductive smile she bestowed on him when she took the drink order let him know she remembered and would be happy to pick up where they left off. When she walked away with a sassy twitch to her hips, he looked back to you with his stomach sinking in dread.

He knew he was doomed when his eyes met yours where you sat across from him. The sight of you, leaning back in your chair, legs and arms crossed, a wide, wickedly amused and knowing smile on your face, sent a shiver down his spine. "You've nailed the waitress, haven’t you?"

Bucky didn't try to prevaricate or lie. Not only would you see through it and not be amused, he didn't want to start your relationship with dishonesty. Despondent, he dropped his head to the table, banging his forehead on it as he went. "Yes."

Because he was face down in the linen tablecloth, he didn't see you press your lips together in affectionate amusement at his melodramatic pose. "Did you know she worked here?" you asked, your voice rich with that affection and amusement.

Bucky lifted his head, his eyes narrowed at the note of mirth to the tone of your voice. When he saw you still grinning, no hint of anger or resentment in your face or form, he started to see the humor in the situation. "No," he replied, his lips starting to twitch, "but I wasn’t picking a restaurant based on avoiding women I’ve nailed."

You took pity on him, knowing he would never have brought you here had he known. "Would it make you feel better if I told you I’ve nailed the bartender?" The corner of your mouth lifted in wry affection as you leaned forward, placing your hand palm up on the table in invitation.

Bucky took your hand, cradling it gently as he glanced over his shoulder to see a lovely woman with a straight rain of black hair and full red lips behind the bar. "As a matter of fact," he answered with a lecherous grin your way, enjoying the images you'd put in his brain. "Have you?"

You opted not to answer, knowing it would be far more fun to let him wonder. "Typical," you said, instead, with a laughing roll of your eyes.

His face softened with love, realizing you'd eased his embarrassment by reminding him of your twisted sense of humor. He'd wanted tonight to be perfect, had hated that his history had already been forced into your face. He didn't know how he'd managed to fuck up so quickly, but here he was. He also didn't know how you always managed to make the horrible humorous, the embarrassing enjoyable. "You’re having entirely too much fun at my expense," he teased as he lifted your hand to his lips to press his lips to the back, wanting the connection of skin on skin.

Your hand turned in his to cup his face. "Of course I am," you chuckled. "It doesn’t matter who you nailed before, Bug." Your face and voice were soft and affectionate, knowing he'd be beating himself up. You couldn't be angry or upset if you tried, loving the things that go wrong, secure in the knowledge that the two of you would laugh over this for years. Your lids lowered and you shot him a hot look and a slow smile. "I know who you’re nailing tonight."

Bucky turned his lips into your palm, breathing in your scent and reveling in how absolutely perfect you were, at least for his imperfect ass. "I don’t deserve you," he murmured against your skin.

"Damn straight."

His eyes lifted to yours and his sweet smile was charming you all over again. "Do you want to go somewhere else?" At the arch of your brow, he sighed in resignation. "Or are we going to brave it out because you'll be damned if she runs you out of here?"

You snorted, thoroughly enjoying being on a first date with someone who knew you so well. It was a weird combination of familiar and new. "What do you think?" You pulled your hand from his to sit back with a smile. "Don’t worry so much, love. You’re mine now. I’ll fight to keep what’s mine."

Bucky sat up with a suspicious twist to his grin. "Why does that sound like a threat?"

"Because it is," you shot back with an eyebrow wiggle.

The rest of your meal passed without incident. Your server had spied on you and Bucky from around the corner to the kitchen, wondering if she should surreptitiously leave her number on the receipt. When she saw the two of you hand in hand and obviously in love, she cut her losses on the hottie front and put her all into server mode, staying as impersonal as possible, treating you both like strangers.

When you smiled at her as you rose to leave, Bucky behind you pulling out your chair, she thought she saw a warm commiseration on your face and wondered if you knew she was lusting after your man. If you did, you seemed to understand, and she found herself thinking you seemed fun. When she saw the scribbled, Thank you for everything. Especially for not making it weird, next to a winking smiley face and a fifty percent tip, she laughed and wished you both the best.

Out on the sidewalk, Bucky was standing with his head on your shoulder while you pet his hair and cooed soothingly, your voice full of laughter as you consoled him. "There, there, Bucky-bug. You’re done now. We don't have to pretend that you, me, and our waitress aren’t all thinking about the fact that you know what she looks like naked anymore."

Bucky gave up, sagging in laughter before he straightened, his hands lifting to cup your face, his head dipping to kiss you, quick. "I fucking love you, babygirl," he said as his hands dropped to draw your arm into his to lead you down the street. "Let's keep our fingers crossed that I haven't banged anybody at the ice cream parlor."

Thankfully, for both of you, neither of you had ever before seen any of the people in the gourmet ice cream parlor. As you walked in the warm summer evening, trading tastes of your honey lavender ice cream cone for his stracciatella gelato, you talked easily, in an odd way catching up on the little things you'd missed in each other's lives during the lost years.

By the time the ice cream was gone, you were both content and comfortable, first date nerves long gone in the enjoyment of each other. When you found yourself on the same street as Howlie's, it felt like the most natural thing in the world to extend your date by joining the friends you knew were there.

After a couple hours of pool, slow dancing to the jukebox, and enough laughter to make your stomach hurt from the good-natured teasing that was the hallmark of your group of friends, you and Bucky stopped in front of your door.

Once you'd unlocked the door, you turned with warm and soft eyes to link your wrists behind his neck and step close with a seductive smile. "First date. I’m supposed to leave you here after a single kiss."

"Since when do you ever do what you're supposed to?" he purred, slipping his arms around your waist, pulling you close. "Come home with me, babygirl. I missed you all week."

"No, not tonight," you murmured, brushing your mouth against his as his face fell in astonished, disappointed misery. It took everything you had to not burst into laughter at how adorably dramatic he was. "Gamora's gone tonight. Why don't you come home with me instead?"

When he understood, his arms tightened to pick you up and carry you inside. Your hand dropped behind you to turn the knob as Bucky started forward. "I thought you didn't like hookups in your space," he teased, his mouth against the skin of your throat.

You'd wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, burying your face in his hair to breathe in the smell of him. "I don't." When he set you down inside your apartment, you locked the door behind you and took him by the hand. "Which is why you'll be the first, so you better be here in the morning."

Bucky woke the next morning to sunshine, chirping birds, and your breath on his skin. In your bed, surrounded by your scent like a taste on his tongue, your bare skin against his, he lay basking in the wonder of it. Whatever happened tomorrow or the day after, he'd never take you for granted, too aware of how close he'd come to never knowing the joy of hearing your hum of pleasure when you woke in his arms.

"Mmm." Your hand skimmed over his back as you snuggled closer, rubbing your face against the skin of his chest as you woke. The feel of your mouth opening to taste him before your eyes opened would have had him rock hard if he hadn't already woken that way in response to the feel of you against him. When you tilted your head back, your eyes fluttering open, and smiled with a murmur of, "Yummy," he thought you the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

You sighed happily when Bucky gently brushed kisses over your face, adoring you with his lips. "Good morning!" you giggled as he cuddled you closer.

"Best morning ever," Bucky corrected softly. As far as he was concerned, this was the first morning of his second chance. He'd be grateful for it, and you, for the rest of his life.

You were dazzled, enchanted both by how pretty Bucky was first thing in the morning, and the love that beamed out of him. His smile turned mischievous and you could swear your heart glowed.

Bucky knew he shouldn't. He knew that he was risking ruining the perfect bubble he'd woken in with you. He knew that there was a very real possibility that you would not find him funny, that you would get pissed off and kick him out and he'd spend the rest of the day trying to coax you out of ill humor. Then he remembered that of the million reasons he'd fallen in love with you, one of his absolute favorites was your twisted sense of humor.

“Remind me of your name, doll,” he said, wickedly, to your shocked gasp of laughter, “I’ve got this friend who might quiz me later.”

Epilogue here

Taglist:

@learisa @angieptt @mia-at-work @midnightdream83 @wwecrazed2010 @allandoflimbo @emaywhyayy @cheekygeek05 @lovely-geek @diinofayce @suz-123 @hellzzzbelle @olukewarmo @fairchild21 @thefridgeismybestie @fandomsstolemylife00 @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @australianhorrorstory @buckybarneshairpullingkink @c-ly-g @wishingforahome @strangersstranger @whiskeyandwashitape @eyesfixedonthesun22 @ingenue-q @joe-mazzello-is-my-dad @irritated-bisexual @fashionworld12 @lbouvet @rishlo @bibliophile1773 @miraclesoflove @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @destiel-is--endgame @peaceinourtime82 @badassbaker @walkingtravesty97 @firefly-in-darkness @sleepingspacedragon @lydklein1 @marvel-lucy @supernaturalvikingwhore @marauderskeeper

#Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #platonic!steve rogers x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #series wip #marvel au #mcu au #college au #bulletproof #pantswrites #bucky barnes fluff

319 notes · View notes

glorious-spoon · 5 years

Text

one of those new wave boys

Title: one of those new wave boys Link: On AO3 Fandom: Stranger Things Pairing: Gen; Steve & Robin friendship Warnings: None Other tags: Platonic cuddling, Bed-sharing, Nightmares, Insomnia, Mild hurt/comfort, Friendship Summary: Steve and Robin go on a road-trip, drink, listen to music, and look after each other. And yeah, maybe there's some cuddling involved too.

Written as part of the Fandom Supporting Migrants fic exchange for @alessandriana, who donated to Border Angels.

Steve lets the strap of his duffel bag slither through his hands to land with an ominous thud on the puke-green carpet.

“So, uh,” he says as brightly as he can. “This is nice.”

On the upside: there are in fact two beds. The broad wink the clerk tipped him when he asked for two queens instead of a king had him a little worried on that count. The bedspreads are the same puke-green as the carpet and bear ominous stains, like maybe they’ve been used at some point to roll up a body in the trunk of somebody’s car, but there are two of them. Robin ducks her head into the bathroom, makes a quietly horrified exclamation, then crosses the room to drop herself and her suitcase onto the bed closest to the window, then flops backward with a sigh.

“I don’t even care,” she mumbles. “Oh my god. Why are we doing this again?”

“Hey,” Steve says, tossing his duffel bag in the general direction of the other bed. The walkie-talkie clanks again when it hits the headboard, and he winces. If he breaks that, Dustin is going to actually murder him in his sleep. “This is your roadtrip of self-discovery. I’m just, like. The chauffeur, or whatever.”

“I regret everything, let’s just sleep in the car.”

“The room’s not that bad, come on.”

“I think someone died in this bed,” Robin says, pushing herself upright, shoving her hair behind her ears. A worn-down road-trip sleepiness around the corners of her eyes. She dozed most of the way through central Indiana, but it was around dawn when they headed out and exhaustion is settled into their bones. Steve can feel it dragging at him, a dull lassitude.

“I’m sure they clean them,” he yawns. “What time is your campus tour?”

“Three? Or, wait.” She flops forward to pull her bag to her and dig through it, finally coming up with a sheaf of papers bearing the University of Chicago logo. “Three-thirty.”

“That’s like two hours from now, plenty of time to nap,” Steve decides, kicking off his shoes and falling backward against the mattress. It creaks ominously beneath him, but the bedspread doesn't smell like anything worse than bleach and stale cigarettes. He shoves his hair out of his face, closes his eyes, hears Robin snort out loud. “Wake me up when it’s time to go.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Robin sighs, but it sounds amused. Possibly even fond.

Steve sticks his thumb up without opening his eyes. “I think you mean charming and generous, and oh, also, thank you, Steve, for giving me a ride at ass o’clock in the morning, something like that.”

“Thank you, Steve, you’re so charming and generous,” she parrots in the snidest tone possible, and he can’t help grinning. There’s a suspiciously giggly-sounding snort, and then the other mattress creaks as she stands up. “I’m going to go find something to eat. You want anything?”

“I’m good,” Steve yawns, and waves her off, listens to the sound of her footsteps on the carpet, the creak of the door. Peels his eyes open just long enough to make sure that it’s locked, then lets them slip shut.

He doesn’t actually mean to doze off, but sleep has been proving elusive in the past few months.

Oh, who the hell is he kidding? He hasn’t been able to sleep reliably or well since Christmas of 1983, when a horror from another dimension slithered out of Jonathan Byers’ ceiling and tried to eat his face. Nightmares are par for the course these days, and getting his face pounded in by Russian intelligence officers was really just the icing on that particular shit cake.

Anyway, no nightmares this time, or at least not any that he can remember. He comes awake, groggy and disoriented, when the door to the room creaks shut, and then there are footsteps on the floor and Robin leans down to press something cold to his belly where his shirt has ridden up. Steve yelps, flails, opens his eyes. His cheek is sticky with drool, the comforter beneath his face damp. He tugs a hand through his hair to find it flattened and disheveled.

It’s probably just as well that Robin was never going to consider sleeping with him no matter how appealing he is. Or isn’t. His mojo seems to have taken a permanent hike since high school.

Point is, one of the many nice things about Robin is that she doesn’t give a shit. It takes the pressure off. She waits for him to clamor upright, then holds out a can of Coke. “Time to go. I got you a pop.” She eyes him for a moment, then adds, “Pretty sure I could score some cocaine if that’d work better. You look like shit.”

“Very fucking funny,” Steve sighs, taking the can. It’s icy cold and beading condensation against his palm, and he cracks it open, chugs half of it in one go, burps. “Thanks.”

“It’s a complete mystery to me how you’ve ever gotten anybody to sleep with you,” Robin says. Steve thinks about pointing out that he’s still pretty sure he’s doing better on that count than she is, but that seems kinda mean, all things considered.

“I’m a man of many talents,” he says instead, raising his eyebrows significantly. She snorts and rolls her eyes, and he finishes the pop, slides off the bed, and goes to see about making himself more or less presentable.

He drops Robin off at the edge of campus near the admissions office, where all the wide-eyed future college students are congregating. Most of them have parents in tow, heavy backpacks slung over their shoulders, bright, hopeful expressions on their faces.

Robin offers to let him tag along for the tour to see if he can manage to pick up college girls who haven’t seen him slinging ice cream in a sailor suit, but he waves her off. Lately he’s been in a state of what Dustin likes to call persistent ennui—it’s like an exhaustion of the soul, Steve, stop laughing at me, I’m serious.

Anyway, tagging along with all the smart nerds like Robin who are heading into their bright new futures seems like a depressing way to spend an afternoon, and they passed by a record store on their way in. He has his boombox with him, and browsing for new tapes sounds infinitely more appealing. Especially with the prospect of the horrified faces Robin is probably going to make at whatever he ends up getting.

The shop is small and dusty and smells like patchouli and pot. Nothing seems to be organized in any particular kind of way, and Steve passes a pleasant couple of hours there, wandering under the tacked-up posters of Bob Marley blowing smoke at the camera and Bruce Springsteen’s denim-clad ass in front of the American flag, Aretha Franklin pinned up next to him as regal and elegant as a queen. Nobody else comes in while he’s there, and the wizened old hippie at the counter ignores him completely until he comes up to the counter with a stack of tapes, and for a while after that, too.

“Hey,” Steve says eventually. “Can I buy these?”

“Sure, I guess, if you want,” the guy says, rusty and so indifferent that Steve can’t even be offended. Just gawks at him, half-amused, while he rings it all up on an old-fashioned register and accepts the cash Steve hands him in knotted hands, nails yellowed with nicotine.

Robin does make an appalled face back at the hotel, sitting on the floor with their heads tilted back against the mattress and passing a bottle of illicitly-acquired vodka back and forth between them. “Oh, my god, you actually bought these?”

“What’s wrong with Mr. Mister?” Steve asks, not even bothering to hide his grin.

“I don’t have time to give that question the kind of answer it deserves,” she says, reaching for the next cassette. Then she pauses. “Okay, David Bowie, that’s surprising. You’re forgiven.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, digging a cigarette out of the crumpled pack at the bottom of his bag. He lights it aod offers it to Robin, who takes a drag and then hands it back. Smoke curls up in the yellow lamplight. “Why’s that surprising?”

Robin hesitates, pulling her bottom lip in between her teeth like she’s thinking, then she shrugs and pops the cassette into the tape deck. “No reason. I’m just always surprised when you have good taste. In anything.”

He kind of feels like that wasn’t everything she meant to say, but the speakers are crackling through the intro to It’s No Game, and instead of asking he tilts the bottle to his lips and passes it back to Robin, takes a slow drag on the cigarette and blows smoke out into the hazy dusk of the room.

Maybe, just maybe, he’ll actually be able to sleep tonight.

Lights flash above him and there’s the wet stink of rot all around, growling in the distance as his feet pound the forest floor, the nail bat slippery in his hands. Something catches at his ankle and he goes down hard, and the monster is springing onto him, slamming him to the ground, its face opening up like some sick toothy flower.

Someone screams his name. Dustin, Dustin is screaming his name, and it’s Billy Hargrove above him suddenly, straddling him and laughing and his fists are wet with blood, and Nancy says, “Bullshit, it’s all bullshit,” and the floor is falling away beneath him and he’s in freefall—

Hands on his shoulders, warmth and the sudden jolt of it, and the room is flooded with light. “Steve. Steve!”

He shoves himself away, scrambles backward, heart pounding and hands grasping for a weapon, and hits the headboard. It rattles with the impact of his shoulders, and he finally opens his eyes.

The lamp is on, the motel room filled with dusty yellow light. Robin is sitting on the edge of his bed in cut-off sweats and a baggy Hawkins Marching Band t-shirt, messy hair, wide eyes. Her hands are up, palm out.

Steve lets his head fall back against the headboard with a groan and closes his eyes. “Shit,” he sighs. And then, “Sorry.”

“Nightmare?” Robin asks cautiously.

“What gave you that idea?” he says, but it doesn’t come out as light as he means it to. His heart is speeding, and he can feel his hands start to shake as the adrenaline rush leaches out of him. His voice is shaky too.

So much for a quiet fucking night of sleep.

He opens his eyes in time to see Robin lift one shoulder. “You were yelling.”

Steve grimaces, scrubs a hand through his hair. “I uh. I don’t get them that often anymore. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“It’s fine,” Robin says. He opens his mouth, and she says, “Steve, it’s fine. You think I don’t get them? The Mind Flayer, or that fucking elevator, or—”

“Yeah, yeah, more than enough trauma to go around, I get it,” Steve grumbles, but he actually feels a little better. “Still. I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“Shut up,” Robin says gently. “Look, do you want to just—watch TV for a little while, or something?”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, because there’s no way he’s going to sleep anytime soon and that sounds a hell of a lot better than talking about it. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

He expects her to go back to her own bed after turning the TV on, fiddling with the rabbit ears until a grainy rerun of M*A*S*H comes in, but she doesn’t. She drops onto the mattress next to him, flips the lamp off, and elbows him in the side. “Move over, dingus.”

“What?”

“Move over.” Robin’s chin is up, and there’s something challenging in her eyes, like she’s just daring him to say something. Steve knows better than to pick a fight with Robin when she looks like that, though, so he just shifts over until she has room to settle against the headboard next to him, the press of her body a comforting line of heat against his side. He can smell her drug-store shampoo and the lingering hint of menthol smoke and he breathes in as she settles her cheek against his shoulder, lets the scent fill his nose and drown out the memory of that tunnel, the rotting stink of animate vines. “Klinger was always my favorite.”

“Huh?”

“Klinger,” Robin repeats. Her breath is warm against his neck, and he can feel the shape of her jaw against his collarbone as it moves. It probably should feel weirder than it actually does. Like, yearning, or something, some kind of heartbroken synonym from Nancy’s thesaurus. It’s been months since he’s let himself think about Robin like that, though, and that crush seems to have died a quiet, peaceful death while he wasn’t paying attention. It’s just—nice, having someone here, a warm human point of contact. He can feel his muscles start to unwind, that shaky adrenaline feeling dissipating. “I always liked him.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. On the TV, Klinger is plopped down in front of Col. Blake’s desk in a tall hat and lacy gloves. The image warps for a moment, then settles as Blake says, ‘Uh, Klinger, the rifle makes me nervous. Actually, the purse does too’. “Yeah, me too.”

“I knew there was good taste buried in there somewhere,” Robin murmurs, and Steve laughs against her hair, finally allows himself to relax.

He dozes off to the sound of a staticky laugh track from the TV and wakes to the thin gray light of dawn coming in through the blinds and the sound of snoring. The TV is dark; Robin must have gotten up and turned it off at some point after he fell asleep, but she’s not back in her own bed. She’s pressed up against Steve’s side instead, curled in a ball with her knees digging into the outside of his thigh. Her hair is loose across her face, moving slightly with her soft snores.

It should probably be weird. Steve’s never slept with anybody that he wasn’t, well, sleeping with. It isn’t, though. He feels warm and comfortable, pleasantly drowsy in a way he hasn’t in a while, no lingering nightmares fading from his mind. He shifts slightly until Robin’s knee isn’t digging a hole in his leg, and she snorts, rolls away, and opens her eyes.

“Whazza?” she mumbles, and then, “Shit, sorry,” and starts to sit up.

“Go back to sleep,” Steve yawns, burying his face in the pillow. It’s early. If they’re going to be awkward about this, it can wait.

Robin makes a soft sound like a snort, or maybe a laugh, and then the mattress shifts as she lays back down. She pats him clumsily on the shoulder with one hand, then leaves it there, a warm point of contact as he slips back down into sleep.

#stranger things #stranger things spoilers #steve harrington #robin #my fic

34 notes · View notes

meganlpie · 4 years

Text

WIP/Current Requests List

(This can be found on my blog page as well, where I will update it as I get through the requests)

WIPS (Fics I am currently working on to post): These are subject to change based on my moods and inspiration.

Unbreak My Heart: Anonymous asked: So glad requests are open, you’re my favorite blog. Could you do a Castiel and Reader song fic with the sing Unbreak my Heart by either Wheezer or Toni Braxton please? Again love love love your blog (I’ll be honest, this one is taking forever because I really don’t like the song XD)

Tears of the Widow: Another Wattpad request. for avengers, natasha and y/n has been together for a few years, when y/n gets called out for a week mission, and halfway through, something goes wrong and they had to abort the mission and when they get back, Y/n is bloodied and unconscious and natasha freaks and literally blames tony and fury and after a week she finally wakes up and everyone shocked when they see nat cry and when nat cries, so does Y/n and Y/n tells her sorry for making her worry and Y/n pulls natty in the bed and they fall asleep together.

Unique: I have an imagine request. It’s with dwalin because he’s underrated. He asks the reader to marry him in a unique way. Like maybe doing it at a farm sanctuary.

Muggle Healer: Anonymous asked: Oooooo….how about some Snape? Instead of dying, he lives and goes into hiding and ends up in a Muggle hospital where the reader works as a nurse. They get close and he ends up telling her everything. Maybe some romance?

Current Requests (Unstarted fics that are on the list):

Abducted: A Wattpad request. Hey meg ! So i finally came up with a plot , this takes place at the very start of age of ultron and is captain america x reader. So the reader is tony starks younger sister and while shopping she gets abducted by hydra and experimented on . She is isolated and experimented on , eventually she becomes enhanced , her powers are controlling all 4 elements , like an avatar. So when the avengers come to rescue her and retrieve the teseract steve confesses that he can‘t live without her and eventually kissing but tony disturbing. Back in the avengers tower steve never leavs her side and he stays with her cuddling the whole night and talking , the next day they train together and steve really helps her control her new powers and just a lot of steve fluff :)

Mission Memories: Another Wattpad request. I’ve had an idea for a Steve x fem!reader (also inspired by these two lol) only they’re getting ready for a mission (kind of like when Steve and Bucky are talking in Civil War) and he’s reminiscing. I just love Steve so much lol

Stowaway: Another Wattpad request. Howdy! I wish to inquire regarding a request of the Guardians of the Galaxy variety. A Drax x reader where the gang imprisons a stowaway but she convinces Drax to let her out through lies and deceit. Drax is unaware of her dishonesty and announces to the guardians right afterward whilst their mid conversation, “I HAVE FREED THE PRISONER!!” The guardians get her back and Drax distrusts her for realsies this time. Mostly platonic, i suppose…thanks luv! Your writing is a big inspiration of mine

It’ll Get Better: Anonymous asked: I’d love a Steve Rogers x reader with a reader who has depression. Something like a comfort fic ^^ Thanks!

Animal Control: Rocket Raccoon gets picked up by animal control. Requested by @tallguy1130 (that’s my hubby, y'all!)

A Interesting Child: Baby Groot goes to daycare.

Saving Thorin: Another Wattpad request. Could you make a Thorinxhuman female reader. And like, she finds herself in Middle Earth and is really shy and sweet but like saves Thorin??? Thank you!

Incompatible: Thranduil x Human! Reader imagine. Somehow he opens his heart to love a human and it was a good relationship. Until they have a fight about something (maybe he says something about human that hurt reader’s feeling?) and he makes her cry. For him it isn’t a big deal but for her the fight was too much for her to handle. And she starts to think that her relationship with Thranduil was a mistake because she comes from a different race and she is too young for him that she can’t do anything right. The elves also tell Thranduil that she’s not the one for him because she’s incapable to be his queen. She overheard the conversation between Thranduil and the elves and she has decided to leave. But when she confronts her beloved Thranduil, he is flabbergasted to know that she is leaving. You can end it in your own way (maybe she really leaves or stays? I don’t know). I just want an angstyyy imagine because I love crying XD

Cooking: Hi can I request a dwalin x reader please where dwalin falls in love with the readers cooking and gets super shy around her and finally manages to confess with the help from thorin and the company please

Not Human: Hello, love! Please could you write a Lindir x Reader in which the reader is a Peredhil (half human half elf) travelling with the company and she meets Lindir when they arrive at Rivendell? Thank you ❤️❤️Maybe Lindir thinks she’s only human at first but finds out about her being a peredhil when he sees her ears or something?

Support: Anonymous asked: Hi meg! Would write a Thranduil x reader where the reader shows him support (bc of things like doing what he thinks is best for his kingdom/people) A lot of fluff💫

A Picnic with Scorpius: Could u do a Scorpius x reader? ( next generation ) During their 4 or 5 year at Hogwarts? :3 maybe they’re having a picnic by the black lake ?

Breakfast Interrupted: So the harry potter one would be a draco x reader , being a couple & staying at dracos mansion chilling and talking all night (basically just seeing his good and cute side ) the next morning he brings the reader breakfast in bed , but then getting interrupted because the whole „thing“ in deathly hollows happens where harry , hermione and ron get dragged to dracos house and draco has to identify harry but because he doesn‘t want the reader to see this bad dark side of him , he chooses to lie and not tell them that they caught harry

Kids: Would it be possible if I made another request for a marcus flint x reader where they fight in the war for the good side then after the war they get married and have kids who are best friends with oliver Woods kids if that’s OK with youOh and marcus and Oliver hate there kids friendshipand try to break it up then reader gets involved and is angry at them both and threats marcus to sleeping on the sofa

The 2nd Task: Hey girl! I’m in love with your imagines honestly and was wondering if you could write an imagine about a fem Hufflepuff reader who is best friends with Cedric and you’ve had a crush on him for a while but never said anything because you think he is in love with Cho. When it comes time for the second task, you are chosen as the person who will be in the Black Lake for him. (You’re a little annoyed and after Cedric wins the task, you’re forced to take pictures for the prophet.) he tries talking to you afterward but you storm off down the dock, argue, and you finally have enough and admit to loving him. (He stares dumbfounded and admits he loves you too and there’s a wee bit of fluff?) I’m trash at requests but thank you much ❤️ Not sure if this was too little or too much

Suitcase:I saw you started doing Harry Potter one shots and had to get in on that. You’re kind of my favorite one shot artist. I’m so glad you’re back. If its ok, I wanted to request a thing with Newt Scamander where maybe the reader has pretty severe anxiety around other people,but is really good with the animals so maybe, after a panic attack he takes reader into his suitcase and shows her around like the Hufflepuff he is. And all the animals love her. She calms down and laughs, seems reallt happy. Maybe a time skip where they’ve been traveling together a while and realize they love each other?

The Hufflepuff: Requested by @lust-for-pan: heyy! love your blog💛 can i pls request something with draco? can reader be a hufflepuff pls? reader is quiet/shy and has a bit of a crush on draco. she accidentally bumps into him and rushes to apologize, he’s about to get mad but stops when she sees her? like he’s taken back by how pretty she is maybe? and tells her it’s fine or something? lol srry i’m in that cliche mood rn. do what you want with the request💛💛💛 thank you

Why is He With Her?: Anonymous asked: Okay, I need some Ron from you please. Instead of Hermione, it’s the reader who gets upset at seeing Ron with Lavender and Ron doesn’t get why she’s so upset until Hermione points it out. Then, when Ron is in the hospital wing, Hermione shoos Lavender away so the reader can have some time alone with him

I Knew All Along: Anonymous asked: Can we get some reader saving Snape because she’s known all along that he was a double agent? And maybe some closure between Snape and Harry?

Yule Ball: Anonymous asked: Hi Meg, can I get a Snape and teacher reader where the reader is a teacher for whatever class you want and she looks a little bit like Lily Evans and he asks her out to the Yule Ball please? (This will be changed a little bit)

Winning Her Heart: Anonymous asked: THANK you for opening requests! Can I ask for young Sirius trying to win heart of Slytherin girl?

Pranking Lockhart: Anonymous asked: Would you write something where the Twins prank Lockhart? Like putting hair dye in his shampoo or something in his tooth paste that turn his teeth into different colours? (Perfect if both of them CHANGE colours so they always clash with his clothes.) As some kind of ‘welcoming’ him to Hogwarts? Sorry if this is not enough to work with.

I’ll Be Your Friend: Anonymous asked: Ooooh Harry Potter! Okay, can I request a Fred Weasley x fem!reader? The reader is a Hufflepuff and muggleborn and really quiet and Pansy picks on her, but Fred cheers her up by getting her to help with a prank?

#wip #current requests

5 notes · View notes

lifebeginsbyleaving · 5 years

Text

the party (part two)

"I'm serious anybody could come snatch him up. Sharon, Thor-" Bucky reflexively glanced over where Thor was talking to a completely enthralled Peter. "Nat, Couls-" Sam droned on listing person after person.

"Sam don't be ridiculous." Bucky rolled his eyes.

"on. That long haired homeless man that stares at him." That caught Bucky's attention. He seemed on guard and looking for an attack. "He creeps me out. He always seems up to something. I think he's got a thing for Steve or som-"

"What man? Where did you see him? Did he look dangerous? Did he talk to Steve? Did Steve talk to him?" His questions came out nearly as fast as his explanations to ma Rogers used to. She always said speed is what gave him away. When he finished his assault of questions he paused his intentful stare at Sam to habitually check on Steve who was walking away from the bar.

"Look for yourself." Sam pointed to the wall behind the bar... which was a mirror.

"Sam I don-" Bucky's confused face met Sam's shit eating grin. The wrinkles on Bucky's forehead smoothed and his jaw clenched. "Very funny Wilson." Sam was always hinting at something between them. So was Tony he always said since he came back Steve wasn't in their relationship as much, and that he was why it ended. He wished that were true. Sam had become more insistent lately though. But him and Bucky have been friends long enough, long enough with Steve to get it all the time, and long enough with Sam that Bucky lets it slide. Besides they joke and tease each other about everything if Bucky told him to stop he'd have to explain why.

Sam nodded. "Yes I agree. It is very funny how you even thought that was a joke. Come on man, you need to get a haircut. You look like cousin it and repunzel had a ugly ass baby." As the bartender walked by Sam tapped the bar to order a round of shots.

"Keep talking Wilson I'll go back into your apartment and leave an even better suprise this time."

"Don't even joke about that! I'm still beyond pissed at you."

"Yeah? Tell me are you also still cleaning bird shit and feathers out of your carpet?"

"Barnes you ass it was fourty three birds of fucking course I still am!"

"Well you deserved it." Bucky smiled wistfully at his past prank. Sam was indeed still pissed and had enough to drink that his filter wasn't quite fast enough.

"Oh yeah why? Because I told the truth about you not even being able to smell bullshit anymore because of how long you've been up Steve's ass?" Bucky seemed shocked and he tensed up, but Sam had started and he had had enough of their crap. "Cuz that's what this little dance you do around each other is. It's bullshit." Bucky went to open his mouth. "Don't even try and deny it. We all know you've been inlove with each other since the good'ol days when you were The Captain and The Howling Commandos fighting the war. And we all know you're both unable to admit it." Sam sobered up too late. When he saw Bucky's blank face he knew tipsy or not he went too far. "Hey man I didn-"

"You're wrong."

"Alright I'm sor-"

"I've been in love with him ever since he was just a punk kid fighting bullies. And you're wrong about one other thing too." Bucky's face looked the kind of pained that only soul crushing heartbreak could bring. Bucky looked down at his drink. "I did tell him." He finished his newly acquired shot and turned back to Sam with a smile so fake and hurt it made Sam feel shittier than his apartment carpet.

Bucky continued. "One night Steve got the shit beat out of him. I had to drag him out of the alley bloody. Nothing out of the normal, but this time he convinced me to take shots with him. He said it was for the pain. He's always been a crafty little shit. Well pretty soon we drank enough giggle juice we were both tipsy. And I kissed him. Then he made me promise I would never do anything like it again, cuz it was a sin." Bucky let out a heartless scoff.

"Bucky he was drunk may-" Bucky cut him off blankly.

"Yeah that's what I thought too. So before I left for the war I told him again. That night was a fluke normally I would never be brave enough to say how I felt, but leaving for the war I knew I wouldn't make it back to him so I told him, the morning I left. He said I'd need God to watch out for me so I shouldn't go saying stuff like that. He also said I'd find a doll and settle down some day after the war. And I was okay with it." Bucky shrugged his shoulders with an air of acceptance.

"I had gone to church with Steve and his ma. I knew what he was raised to believe. I knew it was wrong in his eyes, and I was okay with it. I knew the times we lived in, so I was okay with it. I was okay with it because if I was dying it wouldn't matter, I'd be better if he didn't actually he could move on. I was okay when he rescued me. I was okay when he fell inlove with Peggy. But after my fall after... after hydra, after Germany I found out about him and Tony." His eyes were too red and glossy for Sam to believe that the party was continuing on around them without a care.

"When I found out, I knew he had gotten over thinking it was wrong, so I told him again. I told him I remembered kissing him in our little studio apartment, the kiss that tasted of whiskey. And you know what he said Sam?"

Sam braced for whatever terrible words that had a tear rolling down Bucky's cheek.

"'You're remembering wrong buck. Hydra did that to you.'" Bucky quoted with a clarity that only comes from repeating words over and over till you have them ingrained in your brain.

Sam's mouth involuntarily opened.

"I believed him too. Intill I was looking for a photo one day and in an old box I found the cap to the whiskey bottle, it still had the dent from when Steve threw it across the room missing the garbage. So you see Sam I did tell him. And he finally realized it isn't wrong. He just doesn't love me that way. Sometimes it seems like he does but he doesn't. He doesn't love me the way I love him and he would rather tell that horrible of a lie than have to say it to my face."

"I'm sorry Bucky I shouldn't have said what I did."

"No it's okay. It's all okay. I still love him and he still loves me." Bucky said all of it with a steady even tone, but in his eyes you could tell none of what he said meant what it was supposed to.

Steve POV

Steve could sense someone jogging up behind him interrupting his conversation with Maria. "Mr. Captain America Steven Rogers sir. I hav-" Steve turned around just intime to see a flurry of hands moving.

"Queens I told you to just call me Steve." Maria, sensing this would be a long conversation, walked away.

"Steve sir I have a glass of champagne for you. Well it might be warm now. And I think some of the bubbles are gone. I ran into Thor and we started talking abo-"

"Peter. How did you even get alcohol? I thought that Pepper told the bartenders to disregard Tony's approval of them giving you alcohol."

"Well she did, which he wasn't too happy about. But they didn't give me alcohol."

Steve glanced at the glass that was getting less and less full as Peter gestured wildly.

"Really?" He said equably.

"Well I mean I guess they saw me get it, but they didn't give it to me. Mr. Stark did."

"And why exactly are you giving it to me if Stark gave it to you?"

"Oh well he said to. Didn't I start there? I thought I did. Maybe I didn't. Did I tell you that he also told me to tell you that you should loosen up? Or something like that. Oh well I gue-"

Steve took the less than half full, warm, flat glass from him. "Thank you Peter. Did you know Clint asked if you'd make a webbing arrow for him?"

Peter's eyes widened. "Hawkeye wants me to make him an arrow."

Steve pointed up to where Clint was. "I don't know for sure you should go ask him."

Peter's head bobbed up and down. "Thank you Captain Am-" Peter cut himself off and did finger guns at Steve. "Steve sir."

"Thank you Peter for the champagne, goodbye." Steve said to the back of Peter's head as he was bumping into people trying to make his way through the party crowd.

Steve laughed and shook his head while looking down at the glass. When he looked up he caught sight of Tony out on the balcony. With another drink on his hand. Steve looked down at the glass Tony sent over and then over to one he wanted to take out of his hands before. Looking inbetween the two he wondered what was the difference. If Tony could send over a glass and tell him to loosen up, he could take one and put his friend to bed.

Platonically.

They were still friends and Steve still cared about him. They both could care for each other still in their own ways, and maybe a part of him wasn't ready to say goodbye to them taking care of each other. Maybe he wanted to be needed. Maybe he wanted to worry about someone he could help. Not Captain America, but Steve. Maybe Steve needed to love and be loved. Maybe Steve needed something he wouldn't lose or break.

Natasha's voice yelling words above the chatter of the crowd pulled Steve's head up, and after following her line of sight he realized it wasn't words but a name repeated. James. Bucky left the bar and made his way over to her.

He was about to follow him when he remembered the glass. He looked back towards the balcony and decided to head out there first he could find Bucky after. He tried to get out there fast, but he kept being stopped by people who wanted to talk. He finally was at the door.

Bucky POV

Bucky was wondering if his serum was failing him and he was susceptible to the effects of alcohol again, because at the sight of Steve trying so hard to get out on that balcony with Tony his stomach was wanting to find the nearest garbage can.

"James are you alright?"

He turned back with a grin. "Of course Natalia."

They both got lost in the conversation again telling the usual kinds of stories about missions, modern times, and Steve.

"I'm not kidding he jumped out without a parachute."

"That punk!" Bucky said exasperated but without a drop of disbelief and a smile.

Natasha smiled and her eyes lit up in a way that let you know this was going to be good. "Hey did I ever tell you about that time Steve legit fell out of a fucking tree trying to rescue a stuck kitten? How cliche can he be."

Bucky let out a loud open laugh. "Did I ever tell you that's not the first time that has happened?"

"No way. I though 'mister gee golly here's your cat dollface' couldn't get any more pathetic."

"He was nine and he broke his arm and he fell on me and he didn't get the cat. Mr. Snuffles jumped down on his own."

"That is gold. Keep talking. Was the little old lady cat owner upset?"

"No, actually the cat belonged to a classmate, Karen. Steve had a crush on her. She was upset he got hurt. So she kissed him on the cheek for his bravery. Told him that it's okay he didn't get the cat at least he was brave. But then she had to get Mr. Suffles back, so I took him home myself like always. And he complained the entire way. Not about the pain, about how he almost impressed her." Bucky said with a roll of his eyes.

"So here we are I'm limping down the street cuz when he fell I tried to catch him which all that got me was a sprained ankle. So I'm opening doors and Stevies holding me up, and he's just going on and on about how he almost had the cat. And then he says 'Gee I guess next time I shouldn't try to grab it by the tail.'"

Natasha burst out laughing.

"And I was so done I wanted to leave his scrawny ass there and I would've if I didn't think his ma would kill me. So I just said 'Steve I hope to God you didn't hit your head cuz you can't afford to lose anymore brains.' And he just went right on back to belly achin about her, and saying he hopes the cat is okay, and maybe if he'd have gotten it down she would've kissed him proper."

Bucky's wide smile was starting to hurt his flushed cheeks.

"So we're still a couple blocks from home taking a short cut through an alley, I've had enough at this point so I say. 'Would you shut up if you would've gotten a kiss on the lips for your bravery?' Well his face turned a darker shade of pink than the heat had given him. Then he said yeah he'd be so happy he wouldn't know what to say."

Bucky took another swig from the silver flask engraved with 'T.O.' Nat had given him.

"So I kissed him in that alley and told him to shut the hell up." Nat's face flashed with suprise then a knowing grin.

"He was cherry red and didn't say another peep the entire way home." Bucky seemed to be reliving his previous victory and took another giant gulp.

"Okay easy there tiger. That isn't Jim Beam." Natasha tried to take the flask from him.

"Hey Natalia what do you think he'd do if I kissed him now?" Bucky giggled and looked down. "I think he'd turn as red as his shield."

Natasha's face went serious. "James I think I should take you to your room." She moved to help him. Bucky looked back up and was wearing a matching grave expression.

"I think he'd hate me." They held eyes for a bit standing in the tenseness of that moment, Nat with her hands outstretched to guide him and Bucky with a vulnerable look in his eyes.

Bucky was giggling now so Nat snapped back to what she was doing.

"James let's get you to your room." She put one of his arms over her shoulders as she pulled him up straight and toward the door.

"Nat I don't want to go. I only came to this party to see Steve and I haven't seen him yet." He looked up at her from where he was slumped down at her side and batted his eyelashes.

"Let's go lover boy. One foot infront of the other." They were half way to the door when Steve appeared blocking their path.

"What happened? Is he drugged? Is he hallucinating again?" At the sight of Steve he stood up straight, and Natasha suspiciously was able to let go of his arm.

"Steve." Bucky said while smiling at him.

"No he's drunk." Steve looked at her confused.

"Drunk? We can't get drunk." Bucky was looking every where except at them waiting for the conversation to be over.

"He had a couple sips from Thor's flask."

"Even then it took me a couple glasses to even get buzzed." Bucky was finding the chandelier above them particularly interesting. Nat tilted her head and made a considering look.

"Huh that's interesting. Maybe it's because of the difference in serums. I'd make sense if he was less tolerant than you." Steve nodded accepting this theory. Bucky looked back down at her.

"Okay let's get him to sleep." Steve started walking closer to help Bucky.

"You should get him a bottle of water from the bar while we're here." Steve nodded and left.

Natasha whirled to face Bucky with a hard glare. "Alright Barnes I don't know why you thought you had to play drunk to talk to me honestly, and I don't care right now. You need to stop this."

Bucky looked spiteful. "Why Natalia? Why do I need to stop?"

"Because if you want to say something so badly that you're willing to try and trick me into listening, maybe you should be saying it to the person you actually want to be hearing it. And I don't fin-"

"Drink some of this." Steve handed Bucky the water as fast as he'd rushed back over. Bucky grinned and moved closer to Steve.

"Thans buddy. Iss nice of ya." Bucky said slurring his words while trying to grab the bottle, and missing.

"Okay definitely time we called it a night. Have a good time Nat."

"You boys too. Maybe if James could get a few words out you could've had a good night too." Natasha gave Bucky a smile that he could tell was every bit a double edge sword as her words.

"That's okay I'm tired anyway. Come on Buck." He assumed the position Natasha had previously filled. Bucky draped himself across Steve, letting himself be led out of the room.

Steve pushed open Bucky's room door while stuggling not to drop the water bottle or Bucky.

"There we go. Alright let's get ready for bed." He gently set Bucky down on the bed, and looked down at him. "I thought we were done with these days when neither of us could get drunk anymore." He said with a laugh.

"I'm sawrry Stevie." Bucky slurred with a pout as he swayed where he was sitting up on the edge of the bed. Steve knelt inbetween Bucky's legs and looked up at him as he brushed a strand of hair behind his ear. He gently laid his hand on Bucky's cheek.

"Don't be sorry Buck it's okay. I'm here." His thumb started brushing along Bucky's cheekbone and Bucky melted into it as his eyes fluttered shut. "We have to take your dress shoes off." Steve's hand was no longer supporting his head, he snapped back into the moment seeing Steve unlace his shoes.

"We can go bed. No. Wait. We can go to bed. Yes let's go bed." Steve smiled at him adoringly as he pulled off his shoes.

"No Buck we have to get ready for bed first." He pulled Bucky's hand to stretch it out and pulled his suit coat sleeve. He repeated the process with the other arm. Bucky left his arms stretched out on both sides of Steve's head, and Steve chuckled. He grabbed his right hand and kissed his knuckles before setting it on his lap. His left hand was cool on his lips and he had to hold on as Bucky tried to pull away. After both hands were in his lap Steve smiled at him and started with his shirt and tie.

Bucky decided to take Natasha's advice. He mustered up all the courage he could. "Hey Stevie?"

"Yeah Buck?"

Bucky looked down at Steve's face. "What would you do if I kissed you right now?" Steve's hands paused on the button he was unbuttoning, but he didn't look away from it.

"I'd tell you to sleep it off." He resumed his work.

There was a beat of silence.

"And what if I kissed you in the morning?" This time Steve's hands dropped to his sides.

"I'd deal with it in the morning."

Bucky decided to punch Natasha in the gut next time he saw her, so she could feel how it felt. "Okay."

As Steve finished the buttons the tenseness faded. Steve undid his belt before speaking. "Alright you're going to have to work with me. This is always where we ended up on the floor. Lie back."

Bucky seemed to not hear him, because he made no movements. "Stevie I can stand up."

Steve leveled him with a look that said 'oh really that's what you always say and why we end up on the floor'. Steve stood up and put his right knee on the bed beside Bucky. He put his right hand behind Bucky's head and cradled it and his other arm on Bucky's right shoulder.

"Lie back." He whispered loud enough for him to hear. Bucky sat dumbstruck not knowing what was happening while looking up at Steve. He pushed on Bucky's shoulder, and gently guided his head down as Bucky went pliant in his hands. The hand that was on his shoulder moved to the bed so Steve could keep his balance hovering over him his other hand still tangled in his hair.

They both just stared at each others faces with looks of vulnerability. Bucky's mouth was so dry he wondered if he could even speak.

"Is this what you meant?" Bucky let out softly. Steve was staring at Bucky's close face with a sense of uncertainty.

"Um. Yeah. Yeah Buck this is what I meant." As Steve quietly answered Bucky looked down at his moving lips, and then back up to his eyes.

"Okay." Bucky swallowed hard from the tension of not knowing what to do next. Steve's eyes wandered his face and he stayed under him waiting. Steve's eyes landed on his mouth which snapped him out of his stare. He got off Bucky hurriedly. He was back to half kneeling on the bed.

"Right, pants. We need to-" Bucky followed his movements on instinct not wanting to have distance. Steve put a hand on his chest. "No. Stay." He said firmly. Bucky looked at him through his lashes and submissively went back on his elbows.

Bucky's heart started pounding as Steve unbuttoned his pants. As soon as Steve finished with the button he looked back down at Bucky. He trailed his right hand over to Bucky's hip and hooked a belt loop with the other hand. "Up." He said as he pulled Bucky's hip up to his and yanked his pants down with the other. Once they were passed his ass Steve guided Bucky back down and unhooked his fingers. Steve's hands gripped around his thighs to drag his pants all the way off and Bucky gasped. Steve looked down and finished sliding his hands down Bucky's thighs. Bucky closed his eyes and imagined that Steve wasn't doing this just to put him to bed.

"You um," Bucky cleared his throat. "You do this to everyone at Stark's parties, or am I special?" Steve stiffened.

"No I don't." Steve said tensely as he gathered Bucky's clothes from the floor.

"Oh yeah then am I special?" Bucky said in a hopeful tone that was supposed to be more play than it was.

"You're drunk Bucky." Steve said as he turned to put Bucky's clothes away. Bucky sat up angry.

"If you don't want to be here then leave Steve." After he finished he came back from the closet to the dresser.

"Do you want a t-shirt or a tank top?"

"Steve I said leave." Bucky spat back.

He turned back around with a tank top and threw a pair of joggers on the bed. "No you said if I didn't want to be here then leave, but I'm still here. Because I want to be."

Bucky looked at him with venom in his eyes. "Do you? Do you want to be here? Because I don't think you do. And I'm si-"

"What are you talking about Buck? Of course I want to be here. I'll al-" Steve said dismissively.

"I wasn't done." Bucky coldly interrupted. "And no you don't. If you did you would've talked to me at some point during the party that you insisted I go to. You wouldn't have spent the entire night trying to talk with Tony. You don't want to be here with me, you just can't be with him."

"Buck come on let's not talk about this now we can in the morning." Steve tried to come closer to change his shirt.

"No." Bucky snapped. "I'm done. I'm not doing this anymore. I can't. I'm done with this bullshit. I'm done pretending that it doesn't hurt everytime you disregard my pain just to worry about Tony. I'm not okay Steve. I haven't been thanks for noticing. You're supposed to be my best friend, but Sam has been the one keeping me together. You don't even seem to worry anymore, so if I'm that unimportant I might as well just leave." Steve's eyes widened and his mouth opened as Bucky grabbed his clothes and got up to leave.

"No Buck you can't! You are important to me, how can you even say that!" Steve grabbed Bucky's arms. Bucky pushed him away.

"How can I say that? Because you've been barely talking to me. I had to pretend to be fucking drunk for you to even touch me." Steve looked taken aback. "You hadn't called me Buck in ages intill tonight. So what is it? Tell me. Tell me!" Bucky shouted. "Is it the winter soldier? Is it because I'm a monster that ate your best friend? Because if it is stop playing fucking saint that doesn't care and just tell me! Tell me so I can leave."

"No! No. Jesus Bucky never! You aren't a monster you are my best friend. I'm sorry. I'll be better. I'll be a better friend." Bucky scoffed.

"And there it is. Friend. You know I wouldn't care if you just didn't feel the same way, but sometimes like tonight I swear you love me just as much as I do you. Yet you deny it can happen, well then why the fuck were you looking at me tonight like you would give anything in the world to kiss me? I know people's opinions and God stopped you before, but it's different now and you and Tony so why can't we be together? Why do you seem like you care so much and then you're running after Tony like he's the only person in the world? I know you were okay with the break-up, so why can't you move on? After tonight I'm sure you love me like you love Tony so why? Just tell me why. Tell me why and I'll stay." Bucky sucked in a large breath and looked at Steve lost, pleading, and hurt.

Steve was quiet.

He walked further into the room away from Bucky to start pacing. Bucky took him turning away as a sign that they were done. He scoffed and started walking to the bathroom to change and leave. Steve heard him and panicked. He started speaking hurriedly.

"Maybe I don't want to break you! Maybe I can't care about you in that way because I know the second I do there will be no going back for me! And maybe I couldn't live with myself if something happened and we couldn't go back to what we were! Maybe I want to love you so God damn bad it burns in my bones," Steve started walking back towards him. "but I can't! Because what if I do something and I lose you! What if I need you but I can't fucking have you! Buck I want to take care of you so damn bad I want to love you the way you deserve. But I can't take care of you like you could me. When you came back to me not knowing your own name our roles switched and it scares the hell out of me, because the last time that happened you ended up on the bottom of a mountain. Because suddenly I was the strong one, but I still wasn't strong enough to protect you. You've always been the one that takes care of me. Even after I became Captain America. But now? I don't know what to do, and I can't fail you again. Maybe I have to pretend you're okay so I don't have to worry about you. Because maybe if I worry about you I'll realize you're not okay. And I don't know what to do about it! God damn it Bucky how the fuck am I supposed to fix everything! How am I supposed to make it all okay? How did you?" Steve's passionate rant ended with him looking at Bucky with pleading eyes.

Bucky stated at him soaking in all he said and processing.

"How do you with Tony? How do you fix it with him?"

"I obviously didn't we aren't together anymore, and I can't do that with you." Steve looked beaten.

"Well fine then how did you before?" Bucky snapped he was done not getting answers he liked.

"Tony needed me in a way I knew. I know how to take care of him, because it's the way I used to take care of you. Taking care of you while you were drunk coming home after seeing dames was always easy. And maybe that's part of the reason I was drawn to him."

Bucky looked at him sadly. "Steve you can't love him because he's almost how I used to be. And you can't not love me because you think something will happen. You still love him, and it sounds like- It sounds like you just want to stop loving me." Bucky stated tearing up.

"I know I do. I know I still love Tony and I always will, and I know I love you, I always have. But Buck you aren't understanding. Don't cry. Please. Just let me explain." Bucky's tears were not stopped by Steve's pleas. "Okay look, I was just as upset when Tony almost died as I was when I was saying goodbye to Peggy. But it didn't hurt like that when you died. They were so important to me. But not like you. I needed to be with them because I loved them so much. But not you. Do you know why?"

"Stop. Steve stop please. Please I can't hear this. I can't." Bucky's tears were streaming down his heartbroken face.

"No Bucky listen. It was because I mourned their loss. I was heartbroken about not being with them anymore. But with you it's different. When the train happened it wasn't like I was mourning someone I loved. It was like I was lost. It was like I died. My heart didn't break over your loss Buck. It was like I didn't even have one anymore. When you fell I lost my everything. And I don't know how I even kept going but I did. I just kept thinking how if I wouldn't have made you fight with me you wouldn't have had to die. How it was my fault. I didn't protect you. Because I didn't know how. We always had each others backs in any fight, but you were always the one that knew when to run and I didn't let you. I pulled you with me. And seeing you fall was the worst thing that I've ever had to live through." Steve was crying just as much as Bucky now. "Then you were back and I wanted so badly to help you, but I just dragged you into a mess with everyone. I didn't know what to say that would make it okay. Especially since I'm the one that- that let you fall. That let you go through being brainwashed. That let you be used as a weapon. I'm the one that let you down. I should've just let you go home. It was my fault. I did that." Steve was sobbing. "Buck I can't be the reason you get hurt again. Buck I can't. I can't. Buck, I can't. I- I ca" Steve's head was shaking back and forth and his chest was hammering breaths in and out. Bucky moved closer and grabbed his arms. "Buck I can- I can't breathe. Buck."

"Listen to me Steve we are both fine. We're okay. We're here together and it's okay." Steve was holding on to him as tight as he could.

"I nee- I need my- my med- medicine."

"No you don't Steve. You aren't having a asthma attack. You're having a panic attack. You need to slow your breathing. It's going to be okay. I won't leave you. I don't blame you. It wasn't your fault, all that matters is that I'm here now I'm okay. Steve look into my eyes." Steve was still shaking his head, so Bucky put a hand on one side of his face and held on. Steve's lip was quivering and he had snot dripping. "Look at me." Steve's eyes focused on Bucky's. "Good. That's good. Look. Just look. You and me that's all we need. And look we have it we're going to be okay. We are okay. It's going to be okay." Steve's breath started to slow.

"You did not let me fall. And none of it was your fault. Nothing could've kept me from following you. You didn't hurt me." Steve's breath hitched at that and Bucky could tell he didn't need to hear that now. "But what you did do is save me. You cut through decades of brainwashing just by saying my name. You give me purpose and a reason to fight." Steve's breathing was still fast, but not worryingly so. "The best parts of me are what I stole from you. If you think you're the only one lost without the other you're not. I mean I went a couple months without you and I got fake drunk at a fancy party." Steve laughed and Bucky beamed. "I mean come on that's even more pathetic than being real drunk at a fancy party."

"Yeah it is." All the air that Steve had been pushing out punched into Bucky in a single breath that he didn't even know he'd been holding. "Especially since you had me change you."

Bucky acted offended. "You punk you're barely breathin again and you're already givin me grief." Steve smiled.

"Well if I didn't who would. You jerk." Steve's smile turned sour and he looked away. "I'm sorry about that. We were talking and I- I'm sorry."

Bucky wiped Steve's face. "Don't be. I was so focused on how you weren't there for me I didn't even think to be there for you. We're going to put it all aside and be okay tonight." Steve's hands were still shaking.

"Okay." Steve yawned.

"We should go to sleep." Bucky shrugged off his unbuttoned dress shirt and grabbed the tank top from the bed. As he was putting it on Steve started to speak.

"Buck? Can I-" Steve threw the joggers at him, and went over to the dresser. He pulled out a t-shirt. And threw it on the bed.

"Well what are you waiting for? Me to help you? I would if you asked really nicely." Bucky smiled and crossed his arms as he rested against the dresser.

"Bucky would you please help me?" Bucky was caught off guard, but recovered smoothly. He walked over and replied.

"Of course Stevie. Always."

After they got changed Steve stood awkwardly still with trembling hands. "Buck c-"

"Yes." Bucky didn't even spare him a glance as he got into bed.

"You don't even know what I was going to say asshole. Listen." Bucky cocked an eyebrow up.

"Before you were going to ask to borrow some of my clothes, and just now you wanted to know if you could sleep in my bed. My answer to both is yes, so yes." Steve frowned at him. "Stevie I know you better than anyone, and it's far from the first time you've asked. So get your scrawny ass into this bed it's cold on your side."

"I am not scrawny anymore." Bucky smirked "You'll always be scrawny to me." Bucky held the covers up for him and Steve slid into bed. Bucky turned off the lamp beside the bed, but enough city light filtered through the curtains to softly illuminate the room. "Goodnight Stevie." Bucky said before rolling over.

"Goodnight Buck." Steve said staring at the ceiling.

There was a calm silence.

"Buck?"

"Yes Stevie?"

"What would you do if I kissed you goodnight?"

"I'd tell you to never do it again. Not unless you meant it. Not unless you were going to kiss me in the morning too."

"Buck?" Bucky heard the rustle it the pillow and could feel Steve's eyes on the back of his head.

"Yes Stevie?"

"What if I said I'd kiss you in the morning too?" Bucky rolled over and looked at Steve's shadowed face.

"Then I'd let you kiss me."

There was a pause. Then Steve's hand was up on his cheek. His eyes went to Bucky's lips as his thumb moved to trace them. He looked back up at Bucky's eyes. "You would?" Steve asked in a soft whisper.

"I would." Steve dragged his thumb over to his cheek, and moved closer.

"What if-" They could feel each others breath fanning over their faces as Bucky cut Steve off.

"What if we love each other till the end of the line." Bucky phrased it as a question, but Steve heard no guessing in his voice. So he closed the distance between them and then his eyes. When they kissed it wasn't fireworks or butterflies, it was home, and it felt like where they had always belonged.

Steve's hand was still on Bucky's cheek, and Bucky moved his to pull Steve closer. Bucky kissed him one last time and pulled back. "Alright we should sleep now." Steve whined and kissed him again. "Steve I'm serious." Steve ignored him and continued. "Steven we need to sleep." Steve let out a frustrated sound.

"I don't want to kiss you I want to sleep." Steve seemed to realize his mistake as Bucky smiled. "No wait I want to kiss you I don't want to sleep." Bucky chuckled.

"See you need to sleep you're so tired you're mixing up words."

"No it's not because I'm tired. It's because you kissed me stupid. You're a really good kisser Buck. You should kiss me again." Steve moved closer.

"Uh huh sure. Flattery will get you nowhere Rogers." Steve's eyes lit up.

"Well good because I dont want to be anywhere but here."

"Neither will sweet talk babydoll." Steve was only affected by the nickname for a few seconds.

"Damn it, but Buck that was really good." Bucky seemed to consider it.

"You're right it was. Fine one more kiss and then bed." Steve was pressing his lips to Bucky's almost before he finished speaking. Steve let out a groan when Bucky pulled back.

"Kiss me again." Steve said with his eyes still closed.

"I'll kiss you good morning." Steve opened his eyes and saw the uncertainty in his.

"Yes you will, and I will kiss you." Bucky smiled.

"Okay. Good night Stevie."

"Goodnight Buck." They both settled in, Steve against Bucky's chest and Bucky with his arms around Steve.

"Tomorrow Rogers you're taking me on a date."

"Bucky I don-"

"Cut the bullshit. You are not a coward you never have been. You're doing this. You're going to be terrified the whole time so am I, but you're doing this. We're doing this." He said as he intertwined their fingers. "Because that's who you are. You do things even if you're scared because they need to be done. Lunch. Tomorrow. Don't you dare be late Rogers, I've waited long enough."

intro part one @halevetica ‘s a win

#stucky #captain america #the winter soldier #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stevexbucky #natasha romanoff #natalia romanova #sam wilson #peter parker #and lets not forget the real mvp Mr. Snuffles #marvel #avengers #ironstrange is in this fics better half #did i just post my first ff on tumblr???#@halevetica #boom we are boss ladies

21 notes · View notes