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surrounded-by-superheroes · 6 years

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The Soldier and the Assistant Ch. 6

Chapter Five.

Summary; You run into a mysterious stranger on the street while running late for work and spill coffee all over yourself in the process. Later, you find out the man was none other than James Buchanan Barnes and your company is about to write a story about him. The thing is, he’ll only talk to you. As you get to know one another, you both start realizing this relationship is a little more than work. Will both of you let the romance bloom? Or kill it before it starts?

A/N; Sorry for ending the last chapter on a sad note...but perhaps this one will renew your spirits? A bit anyways...

Warnings; Language

Tags; @farfromjustordinary @ria132love @karlilarki

Words; 2,155

Chapter Six

Bad Decisions

*Bucky’s POV*

Steve’s been rubbing his temple for a couple minutes now and I’m impatiently waiting for the speech he’s going to make. “You did what, Buck?”

“I told her we could pretend it never happened. Look, I don’t know what else I was supposed to do. She wouldn’t be taken seriously as a journalist if she…dated her first big interview subject!” I defend my actions as Steve stares at me, deadpan.

“Did she say that? Verbatim?” He questions and finally releases his temple. I grind my teeth together and Steve sighs. “No, she didn’t. What the fuck, man?” Worry and irritation rise up in me at Steve’s words. “A gorgeous girl kisses you, manages to actually like your dumbass, and you send her away? Damn, you’ve lost your game in a hundred years.”

“I already feel like a prick, punk. Just tell me what to do about it.” I specify, shoving my hands in my sweatpants pockets dejectedly. After Steve got home from convincing Natasha not to just kill Jim, although I wouldn’t have minded, I told him what happened. He’d immediately sat down at the breakfast table where we both still sit as I wait for him to fix this.

“I think you screwed it up and now you need to fix it.” He advises unhelpfully and stands with a heavy sigh. When he passes by me he pats my shoulder. “You don’t want to lose this girl, Buck.” Steve says before walking into his room and collapsing onto his bed. I can clearly hear the thunk. Groaning, I put my head in my hands, shoving my fingers through my hair like you did hours ago.

“Ugh, shit.”

*Reader’s POV*

The ride home is quiet and uncomfortable. First, the cab I flagged down smells faintly like vomit from a crazy night past, but also because I feel slightly like a ditched prom date. Pulling my shirt up over my nose and mouth, I take a deep breath and drown in Bucky’s scent. Bar soap, spice, and something bitter swirls in my nose before I realize what I’m doing and drop the fabric. As soon as we reach my apartment I nearly throw the money at the driver before jumping out of the car. I head up to my place and shut the door with a sigh.

“No place like home, I guess.” I mutter and lock the door before heading to my couch, grabbing my laptop from under the cushions before sitting down. I do the only thing that really makes sense to me and that I’m good at; I write. Thankfully, I remembered to take the notes from talking with Bucky from his apartment and they’re more than enough to get me started. Words usually come relatively easy to me, but no words have ever flown into my mind and through my fingers as quickly as the words to describe Bucky Barnes. I work well into the evening until my fingers ache and I’m about to throw up from all the coffee I’ve been drinking. Like a drunk sloth, I move my shit out of the way and unfold my couch into my bed, then snuggle down into it. Falling asleep is easy with the smell of Bucky all around me from his clothes but sleeping through the night turns out is a bit harder. My brain keeps me awake, as well as burgeoning nightmares, so when Adrian calls and invites me out I go.

* * * * * * * *

“You’re here!” Adrian shouts as soon as I enter the club, fighting through the throngs of swaying people to reach me and reel me to the bar.

“I’m not going to ditch the person who keeps me alive.” I tease and see realization appear on his face.

“Ah, yes. I took the liberty of ordering you a cocktail that tastes like your usual coffee. You’re welcome.” He says as he hands the glass to me. Eagerly I take it and drink a sip, groaning in ecstasy.

“God, I love you. When are you going to marry me?” I question and he laughs, wrapping an arm around my waist so we don’t lose each other.

“Grow a dick and we’ll discuss it. Anyways, where is that fine piece of ass you were meeting at the coffee shop? Tell me you’ve sunken your teeth into him already.” Adrian asks playfully, but the mention of Bucky sobers me all too quickly. He notices and his bright smile darkens. “Oh, honey. What happened?” I’m already shaking my head when he asks.

“Not a dish night. Get me drunk, Adrian.” I request. His gold eyes search mine, then he nods.

“Yes ma’am.” He agrees and smacks the bar, requesting shots for the both of us. The club is loud, dark, and hot, but once I have a couple shots and Adrian pulls me out onto the floor I forget all of it. When Adrian spins me out and a dark-headed man takes my hand, I exchange Adrian for him. Adrian doesn’t mind. Soon, he’s wrapped around a caramel haired guy with a tattoo peeping out from under the collar of his tank. The man I dance with has long, dark hair and is built like a truck, reminding me of another man I know. His eyes are a deep emerald green that are gorgeous, but I can’t help but wish for blue. Although, when he invites me to go out with him I follow. We end up in the alley beside the bar with our tongues down each other’s throats. He’s a good kisser, though I’m sure mine are sloppy and lack finesse. Strangely, I feel nothing. No spark, no heat, no anything. I press my hands against his shoulders and he stops, looking at me quizzically.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but I can’t do this.” I tell the poor guy and it takes a minute for the words to sink in before he backs away.

“Right…okay. Do you need me to walk you anywhere? To your car, back into the club?” The stranger asks me kindly and it shocks me, so I just shake my head. He nods once and walks right back into the club, leaving me in the dark alley. Sighing, I head to the parking lot to find Adrian’s car is gone.

“Aw, damn.” I murmur and look at the street. This club is surprisingly out of the way and it took an extra ten bucks to get my taxi to drop me off here. There’s no way I’ll get another. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I chant before diving into my bra and fishing out my phone. Scrolling through the contacts I get more and more nervous. There are only two names that I can call and there’s no way in hell I’m calling him. Pressing the number and tapping my foot on the gravel, I wait for an answer. I breathe a sigh of relief when he answers. “Steve?”

“Hey, what’s going on? Is something wrong?” He asks instantly.

“Not exactly, but I could I ask a favor?” I question in my sweetest voice. “I, uh, I’m kind of drunk in a parking lot with no cabs. Could you pick me up, please?” As I ask I wince, knowing it’s a big favor.

“Drunk?” He asks and his tone is comical.

“Yes, it happens after drinking a lot and not being a super soldier.” I sass, grinning when he laughs.

“Thanks. Tell me where you are and I’ll be there.” He tells me and it warms my heart. I think about it a moment before remembering the address. “Alright, see you soon.”

“Wait, wait, wait, Superboy.” Silence fills the line as he does exactly that. “Uh, don’t tell Bucky.” I murmur and once again the line is quiet.

“Too late for that, doll. I’m coming.” Bucky answers before the line goes dead. Frowning, I put the phone back into my bra and walk back to the bar doors. Twenty minutes later two motorcycles tear into the place, waking me up from my almost slumber. I squint as a blurry shape makes its way over to me, but don’t recognize him until he speaks.

“What the fucking hell were you thinking?” He hisses at me rudely while I continue trying to focus on his face.

“Buck, she’s obviously drunk. Take it easy.” Steve says as he walks up behind him. I point a shaky arm at him.

“Liar. You shouldn’t have brought Mr. High and Mighty here.” I think I say, really, everything is fuzzy including my hearing.

“Sorry, you were on speaker when I picked up the phone.” He explains and I groan.

“Steeeeeeve. No. No, no, no. You tell people when they’re on speaker, Steve. It’s a rule, oldie.” I enlighten him while he smiles bewilderedly at me.

“God. Alright, you’re going home.” Bucky states and swoops down, picking me up bridal style out of sheer impatience. I stare up at his face, surrounded by the velvet navy of the night sky, and smile softly.

“I like you.” I comment and his stern face softens just a little when he looks down at me. “But you have no clue how to deal with women, do you?” Steve bursts into laughter a little ways behind us as Bucky’s eyes widen down at me.

“Steve, shut the fuck up. Head home and I’ll take her.” He speaks directly to Steve as we reach his motorcycle. He puts me on it and gets on behind me, encasing me in him. Giddy with his closeness, I happily lean back against him.

“You know, this bike makes you like…ten percent hotter.” I tell him helpfully and hear him sigh beside my ear.

“You can’t move, okay? Stay close to me.” He requests and takes my hands, putting them on the handles with his before starting his bike. Honestly, I have no clue why he said it. I have no desire to be anywhere else. Soon we’re flying through the streets and my fuzzy brain makes the city lights seem even more like I’m in a blender, but somehow it’s pretty. It doesn’t take too long before we’re back at my apartment and he’s carrying me into my apartment. He sets me on my already folded-out bed before looking in all my cabinets before finding meds and a glass. When he comes back over he has a glass of water and Advil in his hands. “Drink. It’ll stave off the hangover in the morning.” I drink when he tells me, then set the glass on the bedside table. I put my hands on his cheeks and rub affectionately while he crouches in front of me.

“You are such a pretty person.” I compliment sincerely before he catches my wrists and pulls them away.

“Pajama’s?” He asks and I point to his sweatshirt I had lain over my kitchen chair. Bucky walks over, grabs it, then comes back. Carefully, he slips off my hoochie heels and sets them aside. Then, he slips the hoodie on me. “Can you take your dress off?”

“It zips.” I tell him and pop up, swaying a little on my feet. His hands instantly steady me.

“Okay. Turn around and I’ll do it for you.” He offers and a nervous giggle slips out of my mouth.

“No, no, no. It zips down the front.” I lift the sweatshirt and point to the golden zipper all the way down the front. “I can’t do it. If I,” I hiccup, “bend over I’ll fall over.” My explanation seems to make sense because Bucky huffs and runs a hand through his hair, clenching his fist on the back of his neck.

“Okay. Stay as still as you can.” He tells me and holds my sweatshirt up to find the zipper, then once again lets it fall around his hand. Slowly, he unzips my skintight dress, his eyes never leaving mine as the sound of the zipper fills the room. His hand is a constant pressure down my body and leaves my skin feeling like it’s burning where he’s touched. Finally, it’s done and the dress falls to the floor. He gently sits me back on the bed before scooping it up and putting it on the kitchen chair, mumbling something about not even fitting it on his thigh.

“Tired, Bucky.” I tell him as drowsiness hits me like a truck. In an instant, he’s back at my side and pulling the covers down for me. After tucking me in, he pauses for a moment before brushing my hair back with a hand. My eyes flutter closed at the tender movement and claim his hand in mine.

“You’re such a fucking troublemaker. Christ.” He whispers before planting a kiss on my forehead. I hum quietly, too tired to really respond. I fall asleep with his hand still in mine.

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redrobinfection · 6 years

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Coffee, Coffee Everywhere, Pt 14

<< Part 13

"Hey, Rob, how's it hangin'?"

Red Robin glanced up from where he was zipping tying yet another mugger from yet another mugging in the seemingly endless stream of petty muggings that Gotham seemed to throw at them in spades night after night after night. In other words, business as usual.

"Superboy."

"Hey, I know Ol’ Bats won't like me stopping by," Kon began, rubbing at the back of his neck, "but I was pretty much flying up the East Coast anyway, so I wanted to drop something off with you and also see if maybe you wanted to hang out tomorrow or something? I know this weekend is your weekend off, but I missed our re-watch binge session while I was off last week. I gotta get my 'Wendy the Werewolf Stalker with the bros' fix in, ya know?"

"You guys watch still watch Wendy the Werewolf Stalker?" the dirt bag between them laughed in an incredulous tone. "What are you? Fourteen-year-old gir-" he cut off with a sharp grunt when Tim slammed him face first into the ground.

"So, by 'bros' I assume that Impulse is in on this as well?"

Kon grinned. "You know it!"

Tim sighed and motioned for them to move to the rooftops as the wail of sirens approached. Kon offered him a hand, but he shot him a look and a slow shake of his head, then grappled up the side of the closest building. Together they watched as the police pulled up and cautiously approached the mugger.

"Tomorrow is my night off, so yeah, you guys can come over around five and we'll order pizza, binge on sugar, and re-watch season four."

"We finished season four last time."

"What? I don't remember watching the end of season four."

Kon barked a laugh so loud that every head in the alley below turned upwards, forcing them to step back from the edge. Tim punched him in the shoulder playfully for nearly giving them away - he was internally grateful for the reinforced material of his gauntlets that absorbed the majority of the rebound so he didn't bruise his knuckles - and Kon grinned sheepishly.

"Dude. That's because you fell asleep halfway through episode nine and we felt so bad for you that we let you sleep through the rest of the season."

"You guys should have woken me up. Fine. We'll watch season five, but Netflix doesn't run past season four and I don't own season five, so someone else needs to bring it."

"Wait, are you pouting? Because we watched season four without you?" Kon guessed, laughing quietly. Tim punched him again and this time he felt an ache in his knuckles even with the gauntlets.

"You know I can't feel that."

"You know what I have in this pouch right here. This little, lead-lined pouch."

Kon cleared his throat. "Yeah. So. Yeah, I can bring season five. I have four through twelve on DVD, so we'll just have figure out how to watch the rest after that. Oh. Before I forget…" He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small, shrink-wrapped package of four tins. "I was down in Jamaica on Titans business, saw this, and thought of you."

"Uhhhh… 'Jamaican Green Tea Mint' candles?" Tim asked dubiously.

"They're not all the same, read the labels."

Tim studied the names on each of the tins then glanced back at Kon with a long-suffering expression. "You got me a coffee scented candle."

"Awesome, right?"

"A candle."

Kon boomed out another loud laugh. "Yeah, I thought you could burn it, take a long bath, try to - I dunno - relax a bit and maybe catch some Zzzs for once."

"Okay, okay, point taken. But why would a coffee candle put me to sleep. Isn't the point of coffee to do the exact opposite?" Tim bantered back blithely, tugging off his cowl so Kon could feel the full weight of his unimpressed glare. He needed the break out of the cowl to cool off anyway.

"The way I see it, the only way we're gonna get you to slow down and smell the roses - so to speak - is if we manage to find coffee scented ones," Kon explained teasingly. Tim opened his mouth to argue, but Kon went on quickly, cutting off his retort, "Anyway, open it up. I wanna see how authentic it smells."

He grimaced and began attacking the pesky shrink wrap. "What? You didn't even smell it before you picked it out for me?"

"Of course I did, but I'm not a coffee expert and connoisseur like you," Kon teased. "I want the expert's opinion before I pat myself on the back for a good find."

"Uh huh,” Tim responded absently. He snarled in frustration, lifted his forearm, and stabbed the stubborn plastic with the spikes of his gauntlet - Kon shook his head at his vehemence - then widened the holes with his fingers until the contents finally tumbled free. The four small tins separated, and he picked out the one labeled "coffee" and pried off the lid.

"Hmmmm…” Tim hummed. “Actually…dark and toasty, with an authentic depth and pleasant, woodsy undertones."

"Oh my gosh, you really are a coffee connoisseur," Kon groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I was kidding…"

"Oh wow, and they actually decorated the candle with real coffee beans," he murmured appreciatively. "This is nice. I'll have to burn this later to get the full effect." He hid a smile as he added, "But only after I've made myself a cup of coffee. There's no way I'm going to tease myself with the scent and not drink a cup too." Kon groaned louder and he chuckled. "Make it two. Jamaican coffee is pretty good, after all."

"No, you should SLEEP later," Kon asserted. Tim shook his head.

"I can sleep after coffee."

"You're a monster, a crazy coffee monster. What have I done?" Kon moaned, scrubbing both hands over his face. "Actually, you know what? Give it back,” he demanded, holding out a hand. “I can't give you this. I can't enable you in your coffee obsession."

"Too late. Thanks for the gift, Superboy," Tim replied, smirking sharply as he pulled up his cowl and backed away towards the edge of the building.

"Wait, where do you think you're going? Come back here and give that back!"

"Only if you can catch me!" Tim yelled as he leapt away from the building, swinging off into the night.

"Like heck I can't!" the super called from behind, the wind whistling as he flew to intercept. Tim shot out a line to his right and executed a sudden, sharp turn between two buildings. Superboy shot past him and lost distance as Tim swung away in the opposite direction. Tim turned to look over his shoulder a few swings later to see Kon catch his trail and speed up to catch him.

"You won't be catching anyone if Batman catches you first," Tim yelled back to him over the roar of the wind around them.

Superboy nearly dropped out the air, spinning on the spot in a vain attempt to spot the lurking Bat - a Bat that currently wasn't anywhere near them according to Tim's comm chatter, not that Kon needed to know that. Tim took the opportunity to swing up onto an overlooking rooftop, and loomed over his friend, shoulders shaking as he laughed silently.

"Rob, come on!"

Tim laughed out loud once, then turned and ran. "Nope!"

Part 15 >>

#christmasriverswrites #my writing #long text post #tim drake #conner kent #red robin #superboy #kon-el #tim and kon #this was my first time writing kon and I'm sorry: my fondest memories of him and tim from canon hail from #their young justice (comics) days so that is where their dynamic is stuck and why they still watch 'wendy the werewolf stalker' ;)

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tessatechaitea · 7 years

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Superman #20

Is this going to be a Mad Men crossover?

Superman could learn a lot from Don Draper. Just let Superman watch Don Draper for a few weeks and Superman will hopefully begin to feel shame for all of his non-Superman behaviors. Although Superman probably isn't that self-reflective. He'd probably just label Don Draper a super villain and then punch him in the face. It's also possible Superman would just be completely charmed by Don Draper's alpha male chocolaty center and realize the true power of being Superman: loads of side-pussy! Having a comic book starring Don Draper and Clark Kent would be like every Batman story where the antagonist is just like The Batman except without privilege! Clark and Don are both secret identities. They both grew up on poor farms. They both took on careers where they basically lie to the public. And both of them wound up fucking women that they work with! Aside from the drinking and smoking and whoring around, they're the same person! Just like in those Batman stories. It's just Clark had the privilege of staying on a farm where he was loved and never moving into a brothel.

Fuck you, Peter J. Tomasi and Patrick Gleason. Fuck you forever.

While I seethe and fume and try not to break down into tears (again!), Superman flies over Hamilton County swinging his big red and blue dick. Everybody in Hamilton County looks up and thinks, "Sure have been a lot of Superman sightings since the Smiths bought that farm!" They might seem happy and content now but just wait until they're saying things like "Sure have been a lot of Doomsday sightings since the Smiths bought that farm!" The Smiths are now the Kents because that's enough of that "these aren't the real Superman and Lois Lane" nonsense. Everything is now integrating nicely because DC Comics wrote a story that told readers to forget that they fucked up everything and please maybe allow them to return things to normal without saying too much about it, hanh? Mxyzptlk helped convince the world that Superman and Clark Kent weren't actually the same person so now it's okay for Clark Smith to take back the role. Plus he's been infused with New 52 Superman essence so he has a right to take back the Clark Kent life and bank account and 401k. Should I have used the word "infused"? Maybe I should have said "infected"? A storm (or Black Dawn?!) is moving in so the Kents spend their time in the basement playing pool. That's one of my main memories from the first time I visited Kansas when I was like five years old. Everybody had these crazy elaborate furnished basements and most of them had a pool table. Apparently some slick salesman made his way through the Midwest convincing everybody that the best thing to do during a tornado was sink some balls in some corner pockets. Um, wink, wink! Lois brings up what happened to them and how they're somehow composed of blue and red lightning now and Clark is all, "Shh! Shh! Things are better now. Don't question it." And Lois is all, "Fuck you, you patriarchal piece of shit! How dare you silence my voice simply because it's not convenient for you! I'm a fucking Pulitzer winner, you Pulitzerless Punk!" Later that night, Batman and Robin decide to skulk around in Clark's barn making farting noises until Clark is forced to stop rubbing his erection on Lois's ass as she pretends to sleep because she is not in the mood to fuck a sexist motherfucker right now. Clark gets dressed in his Superman costume and heads out to the barn to find out why the richest man in Gotham is lurking in his cow's shit. Jon also suits up and sneaks out to see what's going on. He just hears that Batman is there to discuss Superboy when Lois grabs him by the ear. She came out to investigate why Clark's cock wasn't rubbing up against her ass anymore, especially since she was just about to give in because who can say no to that Kryptonian D (aside from Lex Luthor)?

I can still hate Pat and Pete forever while grudgingly appreciating the composition of this panel.

I'm still chuckling about Batman deciding to go up to talk to Superman and he doesn't phone or send a Justice League transmission or just have Alfred walk up and knock on the door to inform Clark that Bruce Wayne is waiting to speak with him in the back of the limousine. No, he decides to head to the farm and hide in the barn until Superman comes out to investigate. How can people say he isn't a great father? Damian must love this shit. In fact, Bruce is probably doing this to bond with his son. "Hey, what say we go hide in Superman's barn and see how long it takes him to figure out we're there?" Lois invites everybody in to eat some pie but not before they hose off the cow shit all over them. Batman stubbornly refuses to look human by enjoying Lois's pie. Um, wink, wink! Batman has just come up to check on Jon and his erratic superpowers. Clark, being the nice one of the two, doesn't ask if Damian has decapitated anybody lately. I mean, seriously, Batman. Take out the mole in your own eye before digging up Clark's pupils or whatever that Biblical saying is. I'm an atheist so I don't have to know it exactly. After all the tests they've run on Jon, Batman's conclusion is that Jon just isn't living up to his potential. Batman thinks he should be more powerful by now. I bet Batman's answer is to jump-start Jon's puberty. How about we get a prostitute in here, stat?! Batman decides something in the environment is keeping Jon from reaching his full potential. He decides to investigate the Cobb Family Dairy Farm. He probably thinks that the thing holding Jon back is being put into the milk by Old Man Cobb. But I bet he finds out the thing holding Jon back is Young Woman Cobb! Jon is probably subconsciously frightened of pulling a Goldie on his best friend, so he's repressing his powers. Also he's hoping to kiss her and doesn't want to blow her brains out the back of her head when the excitement of his first kisses causes him to lose control of his heat vision. Batman sneaks into another barn (Bessie, the prize winning cow's barn this time!) to test Bessie's milk. When he adds his Bat Testing Liquid to the milk, it freaks out and turns into that stuff that Spider-Man's black costume was made of and/or some kind of Swamp Thing crap. The black stuff engulfs Batman as Old Man Cobb wanders in and says, "Oh ho! Another trouble-maker! I'll put him with the rest of them!" Oh no! A mystery! And of course Batman's gut instincts were correct. That's just what Batman needs: more confirmation that anything he believes may as well be proven fact. The Ranking! +2! I hate to award animal murdering psychopaths but I have to admit when a comic book is shining a light on how DC Comics should be writing comic books. This comic book exemplifies what the DC Universe should be (aside from all the pet murder). Batman skulking with Robin in Superman's barn is the best Batman.

#Superman #DC Comics #Patrick Gleason #Peter J. Tomasi #Mick Gray #John Kalisz

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