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sunlightdances · 3 years

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Time Has Brought Your Heart to Me (Soulmate!AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, feat. platonic Steve, platonic Tony and a brief cameo by Agents of SHIELD. Rating/warnings: T (for language), mentions of PTSD and anxiety, a little angst. Many of our characters being adorably dense. Words: 14,418 (literally why am I like this) Summary: Bucky Barnes’ soul mark appeared on his left arm when he was seventeen years old. His injury and HYDRA took it from him, but does the mark have to physically exist for the connection to take hold? Author’s Note: Post-CA:CW. Assume Tony helped Steve and Bucky get out of Siberia and finds out the truth about his parents from Steve. AU after that. This idea literally came to me when I was shampooing my hair and I wrote a good chunk of it immediately afterwards. This idea has been done before, but I hope you like my take on it! Disclaimer: I don’t own Bucky Barnes, or canon elements from the movies, tv shows, or comics. All of that belongs to Marvel. Please don’t repost my work on any other sites without my permission. Reblogs are encouraged!

When Bucky Barnes is seventeen years old, a charcoal black swirl of ivy and leaves appears on his left arm.

He spent a lot of time panicking and then trying to find his soulmate, feeling disappointed almost every time he left a date with flushed cheeks and a charming smile only to remember that they didn’t have a mark, or had one that didn’t match his.

He forgot about it as soon as the war was on - bigger things to worry about then.

He enlisted because he wanted to make something of himself, but there was always the possibility burning in his mind that he might meet them. No matter what persona he tries to put on, he’s a romantic at heart. The singing under his breath, buying flowers for pretty girls, romance paperbacks in his back pocket type.

There’s no semblance of romance in war.

His days are never ending - walking, walking, brief bursts of combat. Shouting orders at his platoon, all of them trying to pretend they were feeling more courageous than they were. Still, he spares a few thoughts for his soulmate. When he takes a bullet to his shoulder in France, he hopes they can’t feel it.

He thought that was the worst it could get. He was wrong.

When he’s half conscious in the snow after falling from the train, praying for someone, anyone, to come looking for him, he feels guilt, and regret, and then doesn’t feel anything at all.

It happens in flashes - a medical exam table, a German accent, a shock to his entire body when all he does is repeat his name, rank, and serial number.

In a brief moment of lucidity, he lifts his left hand. He tries to see the mark, one more time, tries to orient himself with the one thing that’s remained constant for almost the last ten years of his life.

It isn’t there.

His arm, gone. The leafy scrawl with it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, to no one, to someone, and then it all goes black.

The sun streaming in the floor-to-ceiling windows of the guest room you’ve been assigned is the first thing that wakes you, followed shortly by a disembodied voice calling your name. You have a brief moment of panic, sitting upright in bed, until you remember where you are.

Avengers Tower.

“Miss?” The kind voice inquires again.

“Sorry. Yes, I’m here, sort of,” you reply, looking-- where do you look when you’re talking to an AI?

“Captain Rogers is requesting your presence in the third floor kitchen.”

“Tell him I’ll be there in a half hour,” you reply.

“He said to tell you no matter your response that you have fifteen minutes.”

You scowl. “Awesome,” you mutter, swinging your legs over the side of the plush mattress. “Tell him I’ll get there when I get there, and he’ll just have to deal with it.”

FRIDAY is silent, but you suspect the message has been delivered. Yawning, you walk to the en suite bathroom and stare at yourself in the mirror. Hair? A rat’s nest. Skin? Could not look more dull. You really need to get more sleep, you think, but apparently that’s not going to start today.

Twenty minutes later, you step out of the glass elevator and into the brightly lit kitchen. There’s not many people milling about, and you discover why when you come across a clearly agitated Captain Steve Rogers at the large table, leg bouncing and chewing on the end of a pen.

“Morning,” you say when you get within earshot.

“You’re late.”

“You never told me we had an appointment,” you point out, swiping a muffin from the large plate in the middle of the table where he’s sitting, and slide into the seat across from him.

“I asked you to come here for a few days, didn’t I?” He looks up, revealing dark circles and day-old stubble. He’s got a pile of papers on the table in front of him, and a cup of half-drank coffee off to one side.

You hum in agreement, “And you’ve been very secretive about it all. Barely gave me time to pack a bag.” A wink, so he knows you’re (mostly) joking. “Not very gentlemanly, Captain.”

“Bucky’s arriving today.” He blurts, and your mouth falls open in surprise.

“Steve--” You breathe, suddenly understanding his nervousness.

“I sent Sam to get him a week ago, if he even wanted to come back to New York.” He smiles, but it’s weak. “Figured it might do some good to have someone… non-partial around.”

“This is…” You shake your head, “Wow, Steve. This is good, right?”

He exhales. “It’s-- yeah. More than good.” He meets your eyes, “I need you to give him a physical, just a regular check up. Protocol.”

You’re already nodding. “I’ll get the lab set up, although are you sure you don’t want Dr. Cho--”

“I want it to be you,” Steve explains, “You’re-- well, I think he’d like you, that’s all.” You must be blushing because he quickly backtracks. “I just mean that you’re a friend! My friend. He’ll trust you because I do.”

“Jeepers, Steve,” you tease, “Getting my heart all aflutter.”

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay. I’ll have FRIDAY let you know when he’s settled? Don’t want to overwhelm him.”

You nod. “I get it. Just let me know.” Impulsively, you get out of your chair and hug Steve from behind, sort of wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “I’m really happy for you.”

He squeezes your hands, a long breath leaving him like he’s been holding it for awhile. “Thank you.”

It’s hours before you’re summoned, and you feel strangely nervous. You don’t really know what to expect. Sure, as trauma-nurse turned Avengers in-house care, you obviously know who Bucky Barnes is, and what he means to Steve Rogers. You were beginning to think you’d never meet him, though.

You follow voices until you get to your “office”, which is really just an open-air lab not dissimilar to the one Dr. Banner has for himself down the hall. Yours is less tech-savvy, though. You have office hours like any other doctor, and typically don’t live at the Tower unless a mission is wrapping up, or you’re on call.

You semi-retired after everything went down with SHIELD, but had been part of Steve’s team there, so you’re sort of contracting for the Avengers whenever things are scary enough that they need a full time physician.

Turning a corner, you see the back of Steve’s head as he sits in a chair across from the imposing figure that must be James Barnes.

You clear your throat and try to make your footsteps a little louder so you don’t interrupt them, but then remember they’re both super soldiers. They definitely have already heard you coming.

Steve greets you by name and introduces you to Bucky, who surprises you with a quick smile and a handshake.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says, his voice somehow gruff and gentle all at the same time.

“You too,” you say. “Steve’s filled me in on the basics, but this is just a physical so we have your information on file. Nothing invasive, no needles, and nothing gets touched unless you say so, okay?”

He looks like he wants to smirk at your wording, but you can tell he’s a little tense and nervous too. You’ve thought about what to say to him and how to do this exam. You know he’s spent most of his life doing things without his consent, including receiving whatever poor medical care he was given.

“Whatever you say,” he agrees, and hops up on the exam table when you ask him to.

The entire exam only takes about ten minutes, until the only thing you have left to ask about is the arm. You sneak a glance at Steve, who’s chewing on his bottom lip. He gives you a small nod, so you take a deep breath and turn back to Bucky.

“I have to ask you a few questions about this.” You tell him, gesturing towards his left arm.

He flinches, barely noticeable if you weren’t standing right in front of him. “What do you want to know?” He leans in, voice conspiratorial, and whispers, “This isn’t my real arm.”

You’re momentarily stunned, but a breathless laugh escapes. Okay. Maybe this isn’t going to be as awful as you worried it might be, for him or for you.

Later, you’re in the kitchen with Steve and Sam, a glass of wine in front of each of you as you pick at your dinner. The rest of the Avengers are on a small mission, Falcon and Cap staying behind to look after the newest member of their team.

They don’t say it, but they’re worried.

“Captain Rogers,” FRIDAY interrupts, “Sergeant Barnes is experiencing some distress.”

The three of you stand, but Steve waves you off. “It’s a nightmare,” he says. “I’ll take care of it.” He takes a few steps and stops, not turning around. “FRIDAY will let you know if I need help.”

Sam’s face is tight with worry when he sits back down with you.

“What’s your take on this, Sam?” You ask, “Really. Honest assessment.”

“I think he needs help,” Sam says, and for a second you’re not sure if he means Steve, or Bucky. “He’s been through a lot. He’s a lot better physically, and some mentally, too. But there’s still-- it’s PTSD. He’s been a combat soldier for 70 years of his life, a POW. You can’t recover from that in a few months or even a few years.”

“I’ll try to help if I can,” you reassure him. “If he’ll let me.”

Sam stands up to leave, probably to check on Steve. He squeezes your shoulder as he walks behind you. “I know you will. Thanks, kid.”

You don’t respond, not even to dispute him acting like he’s so much older than you. Your brain is too busy trying to figure out what to do next.

The next few weeks go by in a similar fashion. You take up semi-permanent residence at the Tower.

Bucky sticks to his room a lot, though you see him sparring with Steve or hanging out with Sam in the common room a few times.

He doesn’t seek you out, and you don’t bother him except for subtly asking FRIDAY to let you know if he’s experiencing any distress that requires medical attention.

Now, you’re in the kitchen with Steve, eating at the large island and watching him warily. “Steve. You’re pacing.”

“I know I’m pacing.”

You set your fork down. “Why are you pacing?”

“I’m taking Bucky to Brooklyn today.”

You blink, eyes wide. “Whoa. That’s-- wow, that’s great! Was it your idea, or--”

“It was his, actually.” Steve stops pacing long enough to meet your eyes. “I’m a little worried it might be too much once we get there. Once he sees how much has changed…” He trails off. “I remember when I first went back. It was too much all at once.”

“Can I offer you some non-professional advice? As a friend?”

Steve still looks wary, but he nods.

“You gotta have a little faith in him, Steve. He’s been through a lot, yes. You’re still learning who he is right now. But he was in Wakanda for a year. Recovering only half of that time. He’s had time to catch up, to figure out how to be a person with agency. If he says he wants to do this, he probably does. You have to trust him.”

A movement from the doorway catches your attention and you flush when you see Bucky come into the kitchen slowly, looking a little sheepish. Damn these supersoldiers and their stealth. “Uh-- sorry to interrupt. Bad time?”

Steve smiles, though it’s a little shaky. “No, just talking to Doc here about coming with us to Brooklyn today.”

Your eyes widen as you whip around to face Steve, who sends you a pleading look quickly before Bucky sees him.

“Oh.” Bucky looks a little disappointed, but you don’t take it personally.

“I don’t want to intrude,” you say, “I know you had plans with Steve,”

Bucky waves a hand, “No, it’s fine, really. Could probably use someone around to make sure we don’t kill each other.”

You and Steve both freeze, and Bucky looks back and forth between you. “That was a joke.”

You’re the first to smile, and you’re doing it mostly for Bucky’s benefit, but also in hopes that Steve will relax a little bit. You know it’s not healthy for him to be this worried all the time. You also know that Bucky will never truly be at ease if Steve doesn’t start treating him like his friend again.

“I guess if I’m going to get a tour, I couldn’t ask for better guides,” you say, heading out to grab a jacket and your wallet.

A half hour later, you’re getting off the subway and heading into one of Brooklyn’s old neighborhoods. Bucky appears outwardly calm, but you could see how tense he was when you were on the train, and the way his eyes darted around cooly, mapping out all the entrances and exits. It’s the same thing you see Sam and Steve do, maybe more subtly, when you go out with them.

They all do it, really. The Avengers are battle weary already, and you wish you could give that sense of calm back to them.

“I’m going to grab a coffee,” you tell Steve and Bucky as you mill about on the street. You get the idea that neither of them has thought this through very much - they don’t really know where to go first. “Do you want anything?”

“Two black coffees. Is that okay?” Steve says, looking at Bucky.

“Add a little sugar to Steve’s. He won’t complain but he’ll make a face every time he takes a drink.” Bucky says, and you snort.

“Good to know.”

Five minutes later, you’re interrupting what looks like a serious conversation between the two men with a cautious smile, and with Steve scrambling to grab the coffee carrier out of your hands before you have to juggle three cups.

“Where to?” You ask once they’re both happily sipping hot coffee, Bucky only looking mildly uncomfortable.

“I don’t really know,” Bucky admits. “Guessing our old building isn’t there anymore?”

Steve smiles. “It is, actually. We can go there first if you want.”

You follow behind them on the sidewalk as they reminisce about places they used to go, people they used to know. It’s not sad, more nostalgic, and you’re content to listen to them talk as you sip your coffee.

Bucky shoves Steve lightly as he starts to point out all the places he used to get beat up. “That alley,” Steve points, “and behind that butcher shop--”

“I think she gets it.”

You laugh, “Tony should make landmark signs. We can put them in all your favorite places,” you tease, and Steve glares.

“You’re hilarious.”

You pull on his arm when Bucky suddenly stops right in front of him, keeping Steve from plowing straight into his friend’s back. You feel the mood shift and know this must be the place.

Bucky rubs at his jaw thoughtfully. “Huh. Smaller than I remember.” His voice is a little less confident than it was this morning. You stare at the building with him, trying to picture what it might have looked like decades ago. “This place was a shithole when we lived here--”

“Bucky!” Steve exclaims, but he’s laughing too, turning to face his friend almost for the first time all day. You’re giggling too, and Bucky shakes his head, his smile a little smaller, but still there.

“What? We were poor.” He shuffles his feet a little. “I loved it here. No better place than that apartment.” He inhales sharply before meeting Steve’s gaze, “Wait, no one-- we don’t know anyone who still--”

“No,” Steve says quietly, carefully. “No one we know still lives here. I checked when I first got out of the ice.”

Bucky nods. “I don’t-- I don’t want to know about them yet. Any of them.”

You assume he’s talking about his family, and whoever might still be alive. You feel like you’re intruding on a private conversation, so you busy yourself taking a few photos for your Instagram -- you’re not too shy to admit that this neighborhood is lovely. Old brick buildings and shops with lots of flowers blooming.

(And if you sneak a photo that has the back of Bucky and Steve standing there, shoulder to shoulder… well that’s nobody’s business)

In hindsight, you and Steve should have seen this night coming. The memories prove to be too much for Bucky, and the entire floor nearly shakes over your head when he has an episode in the middle of the night, spurred by nightmares and twisted memories of his family.

Footsteps speed by your doorway and you hear FRIDAY asking you to stay in your room, but you don’t listen. You’re too worried, despite the racing of your heart telling you that this is a bad idea.

You open the door just in time to see Steve sprinting down the hall towards the stairs. He must hear your door (or your heart, you think idly), because he turns to you. An authoritative, “No,” is all you get from him before he’s gone, apparently taking the stairs four at a time.

Not content to be left on the sidelines, you head downstairs to the lab, pausing just long enough to throw your hair into a bun and slip your glasses on, grabbing a sweatshirt off a hook by your door. You have no idea if you’ll be seeing Bucky tonight, but you want to be prepared just in case, even though you think Bruce and Dr. Cho are going to take the lead on his care while he’s here.

Forty-five minutes go by before you hear footsteps, and Steve and Bucky come trudging in. Steve has a black eye, and Bucky seems content to stare at his own feet.

“Steve--” You’re about to ask him to let you look at the bruising, but he holds up a hand to stop you. You’re suddenly filled with dread, wondering if Bucky is wholly himself, but you find it hard to believe Steve would have brought him down here at all if he wasn’t.

“I’m fine.” He smiles at you weakly, “Can you…” He trails off, looking at his best friend.

“I need something to help me sleep.” Bucky finishes, voice rough. “Preferably without dreams.”

You pause, “I can’t guarantee anything,” you give him what you hope is a reassuring smile, “But I can try.”

“Thanks.” Steve sounds exhausted, but Bucky looks worse.

“Can I have a minute alone?” You ask Bucky, but the question is really for Steve. Bucky tenses, and you rush to clarify, “Just want to chat about how we can help you get better sleep. Figured you might be more comfortable without an audience, but Steve can stay if you want him to.”

The two men have a silent conversation before Steve nods, reaching for your hand to give it a squeeze before he leaves you and Bucky alone.

It’s a few minutes before Bucky relaxes enough to talk. You busy yourself taking his vitals even though you know you could just ask FRIDAY to give you the rundown. It gives you something manual to do, so you don’t have to just stand in front of him.

“I’m sorry if I scared you.”

You look up in surprise. “Me? No, I-- you--”

“I know it-- I woke you up.”

You shake your head. “I was awake anyway.”

Bucky cocks his head in question, so you keep talking.

“I have a hard time sleeping. Did Steve tell you much about me? What I did-- before?”

“He said you’re a nurse.”

You nod. “I was a trauma nurse at a hospital nearby. That’s how Steve and I met.” You hesitate before the next part, but you feel like he’ll handle it okay. “I was working the day SHIELD fell. When he was brought in, I was in the ER.”

Bucky meets your eyes, and you can see the guilt swimming there.

You smile, “Turns out a nurse isn’t super necessary for a super soldier.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I suppose not.”

“My job mostly turned into babysitting. He kept trying to leave before he was fully healed, and we really had no idea how long he was going to be there. None of the rules applied to him, and he was way more focused on getting out to look for you.”

Bucky looks down, gunmetal hand whirring slightly as he fiddles with it. “Sounds like Steve.”

“Anyway, after I managed to put up with Steve and Sam for a whole two weeks,” you wink at Bucky, “Steve offered me a job. Thought they could use a medic around. I’d been wanting to get out of the hospital anyway. Some days were… hard.” You try your best not to let the memories get the better of you. “Turns out Bruce is a great doctor but not when he’s-- the other guy.”

Bucky nods, seemingly finding his resolve. He takes a deep breath, “I thought I could handle today. I felt good when we were there. Like I could almost forget--” he waves his hand around vaguely. “You know.”

You nod slowly. “In my experience, recovery isn’t always a straight line.”

Bucky is quiet, but you take that as a signal to keep going.

“I definitely still have days where I can’t see the lights of an ambulance without my heart rate speeding up. I have nightmares, and sometimes when the team is gone on a mission, I’m so anxious thinking about what’s happening to them I can barely breathe.” You force yourself to keep talking, “And then there’s some days where I’m calm. I can handle it, and I feel fine.”

You look up at him so you can look directly into his eyes. He’s already looking at you, and for a second, you feel a zip of awareness hit you in your gut.

“I’ve got something for you. It’ll help you sleep, but it’s really strong.” Quieter, you add, “Don’t tell Steve, but Bruce and Tony developed this for him years ago. He won’t ever admit to having nights like you’ve had. This seemed to help him.” You reach over on the table for a pill bottle and press it into Bucky’s palm. “Read the directions. Don’t take more than one.”

“Yes ma’am.” He murmurs. “Thank you.”

After a brief awkward moment, he leaves the room, and you can hear his quiet footsteps down the hall until the ding of the elevator signals him going back upstairs.

A few moments later, Steve is in your line of vision, and he doesn’t say anything, just gives you this look and it completely breaks your heart.

Wordlessly, you hold out your hand, wiggling your fingers, and he takes it willingly, threading your fingers together. Pulling him close, you stand shoulder to shoulder with the super soldier, squeezing his hand in reassurance as you both pull your thoughts together.

“I knew this was going to be hard,” he says, voice low. “I just didn’t-- I hate seeing him in pain and not being able to do anything about it.”

“I know, Steve.” You don’t have any answers, so you don’t try to give him one. “You need to try to rest.” You tell him instead.

“So do you,” he replies stubbornly.

“One day at a time, Steve.” You remind him.

“Yeah.” He sighs, wiping his free hand over his face. “Yeah, I know.”

When you get to your bedroom that night, you’re exhausted. It’s quiet above you, and you keep replaying the night’s events over and over.

Out of everything, one moment stands out to you - that potent moment of eye contact with Bucky Barnes. You can still feel the electricity crackling through you as you remember it.

That can’t be good.

“Any time, Cap,” Tony’s voice, out of breath, comes through the comms. You’re watching anxiously from your lab in the Tower, wondering again how you got roped into this.

“I’m busy,” Steve replies haughtily, and you hear the sound of two bodies hitting the floor. “On my way.”

The sound of fighting rings out, and you try to subtly eye the man next to you, his posture similar to yours - arms crossed, brow furrowed.

“Do they always argue this much on a mission?” Bucky wonders aloud, and you snort.

“I’ve only been involved in a few, but in my experience: yes.”

The mission is otherwise pretty smooth - Steve and Tony are more than capable of handling a few rogue Hydra thugs on their own, and you’re relieved when Tony lets you know over the comms that they’re headed back, objective complete.

You glance at Bucky next to you, who still stares at the screens.

“This must be a little overwhelming…” you start, not really sure how much you should press.

He shrugs. “Just different. The last time I planned any type of mission I was in olive drab and all I ever had to do was say yes, sir.”

You’re still surprised with how candid he’s being, willingly offering up details about his past, those he can remember, at least.

“Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers have docked.” FRIDAY’s voice interrupts your musing, and you nod at Bucky, who leaves the room to go meet them. He brushes past you, and you feel another zip of awareness when he does, shaking your head to get rid of the feeling.

He’s your patient. You absolutely cannot, will not allow yourself to feel anything other than a clinical attraction to the man. He deserves better than that, and you can’t afford to be distracted, not when he needs your help and is depending on you to get better.

Just earlier that day, you sat down with Steve and Tony for a quick briefing to better plan for the days ahead in terms of Bucky’s recovery and his place with the team.

Steve is tense, rightly so, and Tony is firm, arms crossed over his chest, eyes dark as he looks at the files in front of the three of you.

“You’re saying there’s no way to know if the trigger words are actually deactivated.” Tony asks, though it’s not really phrased as a question.

“I’m saying there might be other triggers. Not just the words, though Shuri insists those are moot. He’s got PTSD, Tony.”

“Yeah, well. Join the club.” Tony mutters, looking out the window. You can’t imagine how difficult this is for him. You know as well as everyone else does that Barnes was responsible for the Starks’ deaths. You’re surprised Tony okayed Bucky’s arrival here at all, though he does have a heart. He knows Bucky was brainwashed, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Steve doesn’t say anything. You get the idea he’s worried to say the wrong thing -- he admitted to you once that he’s obviously biased where Bucky’s concerned. He doesn’t know how to be Bucky’s ally and Tony’s friend at the same time.

“All this is, is a plan for if the worst happens.” You hold up your hand quickly, stopping Steve before he responds, “I’m not saying we’ll ever have to use this, but we have evacuation plans for everything else, there’s no reason why we shouldn’t be prepared for him to relapse. Even if the Soldier is out of his head, there’s still a chance his memories will get the best of him and he’ll have an episode.” You say the last part quietly, meeting Steve’s concerned gaze.

“We don’t even know if he’s going to want to have anything to do with the Avengers,” he acknowledges. “After all this time… for all I know he wants to lay low.”

Tony nods. “If he does… we won’t have him on any field missions until we’re sure he can handle it. Until then he stays here, helps Hill with the comms and he can…” Tony gestures wildly, “I don’t know, be strategic backup or something.”

That option had proved to be more than okay with Bucky, though he acknowledged he didn’t really have any say in the matter. He just wanted to be useful.

In the weeks that follow, he fills in for Maria Hill when she’s called away for other Stark Industries work, and takes to running the team like he was born to do it.

“It’s the squad leader in me,” he tells you one day, a grin on his face. “Though the lot of you are a lot easier to deal with than Army brats.”

He even helps Steve train some new recruits when the opportunity presents itself. Overall, his recovery is on track to be even shorter than you expected. Sure, there are still moments where he loses himself in a memory or has to be shaken awake in the middle of the night when things get to be too much. But you know every single other person in the Tower struggles that way too.

You’re mostly enjoying getting to know James Barnes the person, and not The Winter Soldier, the enigma, even if it is getting harder and harder to ignore the butterflies that take flight in your stomach every time he enters a room you’re in.

You’re killing time in the lab when Tony saunters in, startling you with his Iron Man gear half-on.

“What are you doing?”

“Need a hand,” he says, drawing out the word as he waves at you, thruster firmly in place on his left hand.

“Terrible.” You mutter. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I just miscalculated the power of the new thruster and sort of… fused it to my hand.” He says the last part quickly, and you blink at him.

“I’m sorry. I heard that wrong.”

He grins cheerily. “Nothing wrong with your ears! Now--” He claps his hands together with a metallic clang, “-- You got anything for burns?”

Bucky wanders in sometime after you’ve finally gotten Tony to sit down. He watches warily, stopping before entering the room completely, a little curious. “Don’t mean to interrupt,” he says quietly, “but what the fuck is going on?”

Even Tony smiles at that, Bucky’s blunt tone a sure sign he’s had a decent day, as far as moods go. “Experimentation gone wrong,” he says brightly. “Doc’ll get me sorted.”

You glare at him. “I’m not a surgeon. Stop giving me surgeons’ work to do.”

You’re gently trying to pull the round piece of metal from Tony’s palm without completely frying his nerves. Coincidentally, the entire thing is destroying your own nerves in the process.

“Need a hand?” Bucky asks, pulling up a stool.

Tony snorts. “That’s what I said.”

You’re very aware of the heat emanating from Bucky’s side as he watches you work. Normally you wouldn’t let someone this close while you’re essentially performing surgery, but you think idly that it might be a good idea to have a third party here in case Tony starts complaining that you’re trying to butcher him.

“What I need--” you say through grit teeth, “-- is for both of you to shut up and let me work.”

“Yes ma’am.” Bucky says with a smile.

Tony raises his eyebrows in delight at the exchange, but you ignore him.

“Hold still,” you murmur after a few minutes, and when you glance up, relieved that there’s quiet finally, you see a few beads of sweat on Tony’s brow. He’s frowning at his own hand, and you think he’s finally starting to grasp how serious this could have been. “Honestly--” You huff, “Now you’re getting squeamish?”

“I didn’t think about the part where you’d actually have to yank it off,” Tony says defensively.

“I’ve got as much of the metal out as I can, so hopefully I can just…” you mime ripping it off with your free hand.

His eyes widen. “No you will not.”

Bucky sits back, arms folded across his chest with an amused grin at the billionaire.

“There’s nothing for it, Tony. Like a bandaid.”

“Can’t be worse than when I had to give myself stitches in the middle of the woods in Belgium with some dental floss,” Bucky says off-handedly, and both you and Tony stare at him, mouths agape.

“This is the twenty-first century!” Tony protests, gritting his teeth, “This isn’t the fucking Battle of the Bulge, Grandpa!”

“And, three.” You say with finality, lifting the remnants of the Iron glove off Tony’s palm, having used his outrage at Bucky’s bad attempt at bedside manner as a distraction to do the hard part. “Thank you, Sergeant Barnes.” You say primly as he hands you a piece of gauze that had been waiting nearby.

“Devious.” Tony remarks as you wrap his palm. “What’s the damage?”

“You need to keep it clean or it’ll get infected. No more experimenting.”

You let Tony go with the promise - or threat - to tell Pepper about this, and then it’s just you and Bucky there as you clean up.

“Does that happen often?”

You glance over your shoulder at him, “More often than I’d like. He thinks he’s invincible.”

The corners of Bucky’s mouth tilt up. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

You’re momentarily fascinated by how much younger he looks when he smiles, but you force yourself to look away and go back to cleaning up the tray you had supplies on. “Did you need anything?” You ask, remembering how he wandered in on his own nearly an hour ago.

He flushes, scratching the back of his neck. “Just some company.” He admits.

It sends a thrill through you.

“It’s nice to talk to someone who has no idea who I am. Or who I’m supposed to be.” He says, the last part barely a whisper.

You feel so much for him at this moment. You can’t imagine what he’s been through, and still, the man manages to crack jokes whenever he can, and is, on the outside, not completely overwhelmed with being in a new place, finally in his own head.

“I think I’ll head back to bed.” He says, a small smile on his face. “This was… interesting.” He grins. On his way past you to the door, he reaches out briefly and squeezes your free hand. You think he might not even realize he’s done it.

You almost drop the tools in your hand when you realize what’s happened -- the mark on your arm, the one you try so diligently to cover up, is burning.

“Oh, shit.” You murmur to yourself.

You avoid Bucky for weeks after that. You see him in a strictly professional capacity, and you feel like the biggest bitch on the planet for it, but you have no idea what to do with yourself.

After he left you in the lab that night, you inspected your well-hidden mark, trying to figure out why it was suddenly coming to life after years. It was a dull pink color, like you’d been rubbing at it, and even though you refused to accept it, you knew deep down what that meant.

You have no one to ask about it. No one at all.

Soul marks are rare, and they’re rarer still among the bunch you live with. Steve doesn’t have a mark, nor does Sam. You don’t feel like putting up with the shit you’ll get from Tony or Pepper if you try to ask them about theirs.

You’ve read enough about the bond to recognize it for what it is, but your brain is still stuck on one fact - Bucky Barnes doesn’t have a mark. Not that you’ve seen, and not that he’s mentioned.

It occurs to you then that the worst case could be true - you could be his, but he might not be yours. What a nightmare. As if he doesn’t have enough to deal with after quite literally coming back to life. Throwing an unreciprocated soulmate into the mix? No. You won’t do it.

So you avoid him.

You even go out of your way to liaison with the new SHIELD for two weeks, as part of a new partnership Steve and Tony were reluctantly part of with the recently-still-alive Phil Coulson.

“Are you sure you want to go? They have a doctor.” Steve asks as he carries your duffel to the dock as you await the arrival of SHIELD’s quinjet.

“They have a scientist,” you remind him. “They wouldn’t have asked for help if they really didn’t need it.”

Steve scowls, still a little perturbed that a man he considered a friend couldn’t even let them know he was alive, let alone that he was resurrecting SHIELD.

“We need to know what they’re working on, anyway.” You say. “Plus, it’s good networking.”

Steve shakes his head. “Yeah, yeah. Still. What if--” He stops himself, looking away as you reach the hangar. “What if we need you?”

“Then you’ll call, and I’ll have them fly me back.”

You hear what he’s really asking - what if Bucky needs you? You considered it. But you think you need the distance more than being around and avoiding him. He hasn’t needed you in any urgent way in weeks, anyway.

“Fine. But make sure Coulson knows he’s still on my shit list.”

“Steve Rogers!” You gasp. “He’ll be broken-hearted to hear that.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but you’re interrupted by incoming engines, and watch as the quinjet flies smoothly into the hangar.

You’re surprised at how young the team is. Not much younger than you, sure, but still. They’re watching Steve with something like awe in their eyes.

“Captain Rogers.” Coulson says, descending the ramp and holding out his hand tentatively. “It’s good to see you.” He’s sincere, that much is obvious.

“Coulson.” Steve’s tone is curt, but he shakes the man’s hand anyway.

After an awkward pause, Steve turns to you, introducing you.

“This is Agent May, Fitz, Simmons, and Daisy.” Coulson says, and you smile at each member in turn. “We’re looking forward to working with you.”

“Likewise.” You grin at him. It seems impossible to be anything less than genial with Phil Coulson, though Steve is doing his best to prove otherwise, and Tony hasn’t even bothered to leave his office to greet the new arrivals.

“I’ll bring her back in one piece.” Phil tells Steve.

“The alternative isn’t an option.” Steve replies, and you roll your eyes.

“Okay, that’s enough. Bye, Steve. Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.”

His expression softens, and you know he’s just being protective in that big-brotherly way of his.

As you’re boarding the jet, you see movement out of the corner of your eye, and see Bucky back in the shadows, leaning against the wall as he watches you leave. You bite your lip in frustration, knowing that leaving after ignoring him is a cowardly move. Still, it’s the only option you can think of while you try to sort this out.

After taking off, Phil turns to you.

“He hates me, doesn’t he.” There’s something like despair in his voice.

You sigh. “They thought you were dead.”

“Technically I was.”

He fills you in on the whole story as you fly to their base, and when you land, you take the first minute you can to get Jemma Simmons alone.

“I was hoping you could tell me more about soul marks. I know you’ve done some research--”

She smiles at you, putting you at ease. “What questions do you have?”

Bucky watches the jet take off, a hollow feeling in his chest. He can’t figure out what he did to drive you away so thoroughly.

Steve stands there with his arms crossed for a few minutes before turning back, shaking his head.

“You trust them?” Bucky asks, and Steve pauses.

“I do.” He sighs, then looks at his friend. “Are you worried?”

Bucky scoffs. “Am I worried that she ignored me for two weeks and then fucked off with a bunch of people I don’t know?”

Steve’s grin is slow, lazy. “Careful, Buck. Sounding awfully protective.”

Bucky scowls. “Shut up.”

One thing that has absolutely not changed since the 40s is Steve’s propensity to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong, and lately that’s been evident in the way he’s been trying to needle out what exactly Bucky is feeling for the good doctor.

He doesn’t even know what he’s feeling.

She’s-- smart. She’s smart and she’s funny, and she’s beautiful, but it’s not like he would ever act on it. She’s his doctor. Probably the closest thing to a best friend Steve has. Bucky’s not going to fuck that up just because he’s noticed that she smells like vanilla and when the sun hits her face just right-- well. He’s not going to fuck it up.

Besides, he clearly made her uncomfortable when he told her it was nice to be around her. That she understood him, in some way that Steve didn’t. That clearly freaked her out.

He would laugh if it wasn’t happening to him. Scared a woman away so thoroughly that she literally got on a jet and took off.

He sighs and follows Steve back to the common area where a few of the others are lingering. They want a report on SHIELD, no doubt.

Bucky is going to do some digging of his own. SHIELD, for obvious reasons, has left the taste of ash in his mouth, and he’ll never forgive himself if it turns out that they’re some kind of HYDRA cell using a familiar face to get close to the Avengers again.

Not to mention his favorite doctor would be caught in the middle of it, and he can’t have that.

He feels… he feels good. It’s unfamiliar. But really, minor episodes and nightmares aside, he feels more like himself than he has in decades. There were brief moments when he was lucid enough in Hydra to remember who he was and where he was, but he thinks being brainwashed was… not a blessing, he’s not stupid enough to consider it that, but the alternative… having to be himself while he did those things… it would have killed him.

Now, he finally has choices.

His first choice was deciding to accept Steve’s help and friendship, and his second choice was to trust you.

He thinks that should mean something.

He thinks back to a moment from a few weeks back, shortly after the Brooklyn trip. You didn’t treat him like he was broken, and he appreciated it more than he could say. So much so that he invited you back to Brooklyn with him, to one of his favorite diners from when he was growing up.

He’s so happy to see it still exists that he can’t wait to have a meal there. Steve is busy, and you just-- the way you smile at him when he asks you to go, he knows he’s made the right call.

“James Barnes?” The older woman at the counter looks like she’s seen a ghost.

“That’s me,” he says, trying to smile. He has no idea how people are going to react to him wherever he goes.

“I’ll be damned,” she whispers. “My grandmother… she used to tell me stories about you and Captain Rogers.”

He smiles. “Good ones, I hope?”

“Only good ones. My grandmother was Ruth Kelley.”

The name fires some synapse in Bucky’s brain that hasn’t been used in years. Suddenly he’s nineteen, sharing a malt with Ruthie at the counter while she was on her lunch break, trying to pretend he’s not pulling out all the stops to make her laugh.

“You look just like her,” he stutters, and she does - the same eyes, the same kind smile.

“Thank you.” She whispers. “Anything you want, on the house today.”

Bucky tries to protest, but you stop him.

“Let her do this for you,” you say quietly.

Bucky nods and the two of you sit in a booth, his mind still working overtime trying to believe that all the pieces of his life could come full circle like this.

“An old flame?” You ask, lifting a mug of coffee to your lips, and Bucky finds himself entranced by the playful look on your face.

“Something like that.” He murmurs. “She grew up in the same building as Steve and I. Used to come bother her while she worked. That family was the best. They’d give us free slices of pie every so often…” He trails off. “Never saw her again before I shipped out.”

You’re quiet, a look on your face he can’t identify. “You must have meant a lot to her. If she told her granddaughter about you.”

He turns to watch Ruth’s granddaughter busy herself behind the counter, her movements so similar to Ruth’s that for a horrible moment, he thinks he might cry too.

On the way back to the Tower, you loop your arm through his, so casually, the touch coming so easy for you, it throws Bucky for a loop. It’s not unwelcome - you’re warm through your jacket, and Bucky hasn’t realized how much he missed human contact until this moment.

He thinks it should be concerning, how quickly you’re inserting yourself in his life. He tells himself it’s purely professional, but he knows it’s a lie.

The annoyingly knowing looks he’s been getting from Steve and Sam seem to suggest that too, not to mention the not-so-subtle threatening from Tony.

He’s drawn to you, and it scares him a little, while at the same time it feels like it’s just… right. He tried to surreptitiously get a look at your left arm the first time he thought… but to no avail. He hadn’t seen a mark. Certainly not one like he remembers, not one that he hoped to see, as fleeting as the thought had been at the time. But he told himself it didn’t matter. His own parents weren’t soulmates, but they loved each other.

Peggy and Steve didn’t have marks either, but they loved each other til the end. It doesn’t matter. Although, truth be told, it won’t matter at all if you stop talking to him completely.

Trying to get his mind off you, he seeks out his friends, finding them in the common area. No sooner has he made himself comfortable on the couch next to Sam then there’s an alarm blaring somewhere, and all his senses fire to life.

Steve is on his feet immediately, as is Tony, tapping away at his tablet as he tries to figure out what’s wrong.

“Steve?” Sam asks, body rigid.

“Suit up,” Steve says immediately. “Tony and I will do threat assessment.”

“Already done,” Tony chirps. “Fun - intruders!”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but he’s already moving, striding towards the doors to the command center and sliding a headset on his head - he feels more at home here than he thought he would.

“Check in when you’ve got comms,” he says distractedly, tapping away at the screen in front of him until he pulls up a couple cameras of the lower floors.

He spares a thought to be grateful that you’re not here right now, as he watches a team of men in black bust through the doors to the lab. “Lower two floors. I count eight, maybe ten operatives.”

“On it,” Steve says in his ear, and Bucky watches as his friend skips the elevator and instead launches himself down over the railing.

“Idiot.” He mutters.

“I can hear you.”

He smirks. “Tony, there’s a few more on the outside trying to get in,” he confirms, hearing the now-familiar sound of thrusters as Tony takes off from the launchpad outside the penthouse.

“More company incoming,” Tony replies, and Bucky can hear the sound of an engine through the comms.

Gunfire suddenly erupts almost directly outside the room Bucky’s in, the reinforced glass holding, but Bucky still throws his metal arm above his head and ducks out of instinct.

He knows this is Hydra. This was bound to happen, with Bucky living here. The Asset would never be allowed to live with everything he knows.

Bucky grimaces. “I’m going to need to get to the armory.”

Sam’s voice is next, “Negative, big guy. You’re going to stay right where you are, or else no one else has eyes on us.”

“Seconded.” Steve says firmly.

“I’m kind of a sitting duck up here.” Bucky protests. “This is seventy years of sniper training going to waste,” he adds, and Steve audibly sighs in his ear.

“Take an MG, that’s it.” He says, and Bucky snorts.

“You think I’d try to grab an alien gun? I’m not as stupid as you remember.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply as he heads out the door, eyes scanning this way and that for any potential threats. He hears the fight going on a few floors below, but so far he’s in the clear, and he heads towards the hangar where he can slip in a back entrance to the armory (hopefully) undetected.

“Two headed to you, Buck.” Steve says, sounding out of breath.

“Copy that.” Bucky says, steeling himself for the inevitable fight. He lets himself feel exhausted for approximately one second before he gets to work - his training taking over like he’s on autopilot.

He makes it to the armory door before he’s jumped from behind, though he heard them coming. He knows he can’t let them get inside. He uses their momentum to propel himself forward, flinging one man off his back and sending him careening into the opposite wall.

His other hand rears back out of instinct, delivering a sickening blow to the second man’s face.

Warily, he watches the first man struggle to his feet, a sneer on his face. “Longing.” He says, and Bucky sees red, though not for the reason he suspects the man hopes. “Rusted.”

Bucky pulls back with his metal arm, and delivers one solid punch. “Eat shit.”

Steve comes skidding around the corner a moment or two later, watching the scene in front of him. He clearly heard what the man was trying to do over comms - his face is a mixture of terror and concern.

“Bucky?”

“It’s still me, Steve.”

“Just checking.” He steps over the two men on the floor. “Didn’t need the MG after all?”

“Didn’t make it that far.” Bucky reaches down, straightening the man’s jacket so he can see the insignia for himself. He sighs. “Not going for stealth these days.”

“They’re done fighting in the shadows, or whatever.” Steve replies with a roll of his eyes. “We’ll get them all to lockup - Tony’s got the rest on the roof.”

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is going to keep happening. As long as I’m here. You know that, right?”

Steve’s face hardens. “Then we’ll keep fighting them. They’re not going to take you again.” The fierceness in his voice makes Bucky want to weep. This is the Steve he remembers.

He helps get the Hydra agents rounded up with the rest of the team, and then retreats to his bedroom. He feels exhausted, even though he didn’t have to do much - even the fight itself wasn’t as awful as it could have been.

He’s just tired of being hunted. He just wants to-- he doesn’t know, really. Be free? It sounds so trite. But he’s got a chance at a better life now, and he’s not going to let anyone take that away from him. Not Hydra, not whoever they decide to send after him next.

That night he has another nightmare, but this time, it’s about you. The look on your face after you see him in action - it sends you even further away from him, and Bucky knows he’ll never get you back, not after this. Not after you’ve seen the Soldier.

When he startles awake, the shame burning in his chest is a living, breathing thing.

He realizes then what you mean to him, or what you could if given the chance.

It doesn’t scare him as much as it should.

Jemma Simmons is infinitely patient as she explains the research about soul marks to you. It helps that she has a soulmate of her own, one who has a reciprocating mark.

It doesn’t do a thing to quell your guilt about Bucky, though. You still feel like you’d be trapping him into something. He’s never had much of a choice about anything in his life before, and you don’t want to take this away from him, too.

Trying to distract yourself, you throw yourself into research and analysis with Fitz and Simmons. In the few days you’ve been with SHIELD, you’ve helped them learn more about Daisy’s power and biology, your experience working with Avengers helpful as they try to catalog what she can do and what her limits are.

You plan to head back to Avengers Tower by the end of the week, and head to bed that night feeling like the time away from everything was just what you needed, even if you do have two letters to Steve from Phil in your bag that you’re almost certainly not going to give him.

The man is desperate for his apology to be accepted by his hero.

You’re asleep nearly the minute your head hits the pillow.

Annoyingly, you dream of Bucky. It’s not the dream you’ve had before - holding hands at the diner, or making some grand declaration. This is… darker. More real. It scares you.

Someone is hauling Bucky out of the Tower, and Bucky is nearly incapacitated. Drugged or… worse. You feel a shudder run through you as you watch him smuggled out in the dead of night, knowing there’s nothing you can do to help.

You wake with a gasp, and when you pull up your left sleeve, the mark on your arm is an angry red.

Panic slides through you like ice in your veins, and you’re reaching for your phone before you can begin to make sense of anything.

“Hey. It’s the middle of the night.”

“I need you to check on Bucky.” You tell Steve, your tone urgent.

“What?”

“Just do it, Steve.”

“What’s going on?”

“Steve.”

You hear movement on his end, and listen intently as he leaves his apartment and heads across the hall. “It’s been quiet all night,” he assures you. “We had a run-in today, but other than that…” He trails off, and that’s what sets your heart pounding. “FRIDAY, what time did Bucky leave his apartment?” Steve asks the AI, and you feel your heart plummet.

You don’t hear her reply.

“Steve, listen to me. I think he’s been taken.”

“How the hell did you--”

“I can’t explain it. I need you to come get me. I don’t want to worry anyone here, but I can help.”

“I’ll be wheels up in ten.”

A click, and then the line goes dead.

It feels like hours before you hear a knock on the door in the base, and Phil Coulson is there, looking as worried as you are, though you’re sure he’s picking up on the anxiety coming from Steve, and from having an Avenger in his secret base.

“Steve!”

“He’s gone.” Steve says rapidly, “We had a… brief infiltration today--”

“A what?!”

“Don’t worry about it now. Point is - I think they were a distraction. They needed to figure out how to get in and how to get to Bucky.”

“I can find him.” You grab your bag, trying to push past him and Coulson both to get to the door.

“Wait a minute, slow down, how did you even know he was gone? I don’t understand.”

“We don’t have time for this right now, Steve. Who knows what they’ve done to him or are planning to do.”

“Hey.” Steve’s voice is sharp, drawing you back into focus. “I need you to slow down. Explain this to me like I’m an idiot.”

You glare, but force your breathing to slow. “Something’s wrong. I just-- I can feel it, Steve.”

“How?”

“I think I’m-- his,” you choke out. “I-- he doesn’t have a mark, I know that, but I have one. I’ve had one my whole life, and I’ve never felt--”

Steve exhales hard. “Jesus Christ.” Hands on his hips, he looks back at you. “So… you can sense him? Is that it?”

You nod. “Sort of. I noticed it when we first met. An awareness, really. I didn’t think anything of it. I thought I was being overprotective while he was recovering.”

Steve’s expression clears. “The night he had an episode after we went to Brooklyn. You knew something was wrong before I heard him.”

“Steve, I-- I don’t want him to know. We just need to find him. Everything else… it doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is that I can help you find him, and we can help him.”

“Okay.” Steve’s voice is sure, full of conviction. “Okay. We get him back, and we worry about the rest later.”

“Where are the others?” You ask as you, Steve, and Phil walk as quickly as possible towards the quinjet.

“Tony’s on standby. No point in bringing the full team until we know what we’re up against. I don’t even know where to start looking.” He exhales hard. “What do they even want with him? Without the triggers, there’s no point--”

“Hydra’s been trying to pop up all over the world,” Coulson says. “They’ve taken over several old SHIELD bases, some that we didn’t even know about. They could be trying to use the Asset to bring out whoever’s still in hiding.”

“But he’s not the Soldier anymore.” You say, fierce.

“They don’t know that.” Coulson points out.

At this point, other members of his team have gathered, and you try to keep it together before you have to explain yourself in front of everyone. You’d rather suss this out with Steve, first.

“We’re ready to help if you need it, Captain.” Coulson says, shoulders straight.

Steve watches him carefully, hands on his hips. “We don’t even know where to start looking.”

“Any chance Sergeant Barnes would try to send a signal?” Daisy asks, her voice quiet as she interrupts. “If you know what to look for, we could try to hack into any outgoing Hydra communication channels we know about.”

Steve’s expression clears. “Yeah, he might. If he’s not--”

“He’s not compromised, Steve. I can feel it.” You tell him quietly. Steve stares at you, trying to decide if he can trust this. You don’t blame him - you have no idea if this is going to work either.

“Alright, let’s get to work.” Steve says finally.

“You got it, boss.” Daisy says, with a lazy salute, and you watch, amused as her gaze snaps to Coulson. “No offense, Director.”

“None taken. I’m outranked.” He says agreeably.

You sigh in relief at finally having some help. You can’t let anything happen to Bucky. For Steve’s sake, and for your own.

Bucky opens his eyes slowly - his eyelids feel like they weigh a hundred pounds. Immediately he’s on edge. He has a hazy vision of someone breaking down his door, a cloth in his face and him trying to fight them off before he passed out.

Shit, he thinks, Steve’s going to be so pissed. He takes a minute to assess the situation. A dingy, dark room. He’s shackled. Not the most original way he’s ever been held against his will, but whatever.

He spares a thought for you. Do you even know he’s gone? You’re with SHIELD. Steve’s probably trying like hell to keep this from you, so he doesn’t worry you. Bucky feels himself getting angrier the longer he thinks about it - he finally thinks he might be able to work up the nerve to ask you out, or to at least tell you he thinks you’re-- well, it doesn’t matter.

None of it will matter unless he gets out of here.

He feels a little woozy. He wonders what they used to knock him out, because he knows it would take nearly five times a normal amount of anything that would render a normal person unconscious. It makes him a little nervous, but again, it mostly pisses him off.

He tests his left arm - and can’t move. A brief flash of panic runs through him, but he grits his teeth and tells himself to calm down. There’s something in the room - an EMP maybe? Something that’s taken his arm out of commission.

He tests the shackles, and his right arm pulls free.

“Huh.” Suspicious.

The door opens, and in comes one of the two men who greeted him near the armory at the Tower.

“Oh, hello.” Bucky greets.

“Soldat.” The other man says, and Bucky’s eyes narrow.

“What was it I told you earlier? Oh, right. Eat shit.”

“So the rumors are true? The trigger words no longer work. That’s alright, there are other ways to make you comply.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Look, I’m done taking orders. So you’re wasting your time.”

Bucky does, under it all, wonder what the play is here. He’s basically not held down any more, and they had to know the restraints wouldn’t hold him. So what’s the point? He doesn’t know enough about the Avengers to be a threat to their security, and he’s ninety percent sure that the brainwashing won’t work.

He’s banking on it.

In the back of his mind, there’s a buzzing that lets him know he’s still not completely with it. He also has a gut feeling that Steve is already assembling, or whatever it is he calls it when the Avengers get a mission, so he just has to stall enough to catch this goon off guard and get the hell out of here.

“Well, go on then. Tell me about your nefarious plans.”

That earns him a punch on the jaw, and while it doesn’t hurt really, it pisses him off.

“Alright. I’m tired of this. Tell me what you want, or I’m going to leave, and if I have to kill you to do it, well, that’s just too bad.”

His smile is just a touch too wild to be sane, Bucky thinks, right before he presses something in his right hand. Not an EMP, then, Bucky has a second to think before it feels as if his entire brain is being electrocuted, and then he blacks out.

“Remind me again why I’m doing this?” Tony asks Steve the second he lands in the hangar at SHIELD HQ. “Hello,” he says distractedly to the small crowd that’s gathered.

“Bucky’s in trouble.”

“Barnes has been in trouble his entire life.”

“Tony.” You growl, a warning if he’s ever heard one. “We have to help him.”

Tony sighs. “This place is pretty cool, if a little low tech,” he says finally, looking around, his gaze landing on Phil Coulson. “Phil. You’re not dead.”

“Neither are you. Heard it was pretty close for the both of us.”

Tony turns back to you and Steve. “Why am I here but Wilson isn’t?”

“Sam’s already doing recon.” Steve says, his expression hard. “I need you to help with the hacking.”

“Hey!” Daisy protests, not looking up from her laptop. “I don’t need help--”

“I know you,” Tony says. “You hacked SHIELD. They called me about that. I think you owe me an apology.”

She raises an eyebrow. “... anyway. We were able to narrow it down to these two previously unknown SHIELD bases. They’ve been silent for months, but recently had a string of outgoing communications, one of which can be tracked to a location in New York not far from the Tower.”

“He’s around the fucking block and I flew all the way here?”

Steve glares at Tony. “That doesn’t mean it’s where they’ve taken him. Just that they’re operating there.”

“They’ve probably had eyes on him ever since he came back to New York,” you say quietly.

“Christ.” Tony runs a hand over his face. “Alright, get Wilson over there and see what he can shake out. Doc, do you have a plan if Barnes is… compromised?”

You’re quiet. Steve’s quiet. No one really knows what to do if that’s the case. You’re not sure if it’s even possible, not after all the work Shuri did with Bucky’s recovery in Wakanda, but there’s still the possibility… no. You won’t let yourself think about it.

“We could use the containment module.” Agent May says quietly, one of the first things she’s said since you’ve been with SHIELD. “It’s meant to hold the strongest inhumans.”

Tony gets out of the suit eventually and you all start pouring over audio files from the last few days to try to find Bucky.

Eventually, Steve turns to you. “He’s alright?” He asks, softly, worriedly.

You sigh, but at the pained look on his face, you have no other choice. You concentrate as hard as you can, feeling your connection with Bucky like a tether. You’d know if he was gone. Even if it was just his mind.

“I think so.”

Tony gapes. “Does someone want to fill me in, here?”

“They have a connection.” Steve says, flat.

You watch as Tony connects the dots. “Oh, sweet Christ. That explains a lot.”

You glare. “Excuse me?”

He rolls his eyes, turning back to the monitor in front of him, muttering. “Making heart eyes at each other across my lab--”

“It could be that only she has the mark. But it shouldn’t diminish the bond,” Simmons says quietly across the table, her eyes not leaving the papers in front of her.

“You told SHIELD before you told me?” Tony asks, incredulous. “I’m wounded.”

“Are they always like this?” Fitz asks Coulson, not so quietly. You can relate - there’s something about seeing that your heroes are just regular people.

“Got him.” Daisy says suddenly, voice hard. “There.” She points at the map.

“Let’s go,” Coulson directs, “we’re wheels up in five.”

“You’re staying here.” Steve tells you, and you immediately stop in your tracks.

“I’m going with you. Are you--”

“This is a rescue mission.”

“And I’m a doctor!” And I’m his soulmate, even if he doesn’t know it yet.

“Argue later, on the jet now!” May says sharply, throwing a bulletproof vest in your direction. You catch it before you get knocked over with the weight, and slip it on as quick as you can.

On the jet, you watch as Steve Rogers slowly disappears and Captain America takes over, giving orders and preparing for the possibility that the person they’re going to find might no longer be his best friend.

“You’re going to stay on board while we clear the place, got it?”

You scowl, but don’t argue with him, knowing it won’t do you any good. He goes around handing out comms, and everyone checks that they’re working, giving him a thumbs up. Daisy Johnson looks absolutely delighted to be on a mission with Captain America and Iron Man.

It seems like it’s only minutes before you land. Sam is waiting for you when you get there, and squeezes your shoulder as he passes you to confer quietly with Steve and Tony.

“Alright, we’re going to split up into teams.”

While Steve is talking, you’re barely listening, too focused on trying to concentrate on your newly-discovered bond with Bucky to figure out if he’s alright.

“Don’t get any ideas, Doc.” Tony says to you on his way out the door, tapping the comms device in his ears for emphasis as he goes.

You sigh - you hate being sidelined, even if you know Steve is right - you can’t provide the kind of help that they might need.

“Be careful,” you tell the three of them, plus the SHIELD team.

They go down the ramp quickly, leaving you alone with Simmons and Fitz.

Bucky hasn’t really been thankful for his advanced hearing in the short time he’s been fully in control of his faculties, but even in the short time he’s been back with Steve, he’d recognize the sound of a quinjet landing anywhere.

He feels like he’s been knocked over the head with a hammer. His energy has been totally zapped, and he knows he needs to fight, needs to figure out how to get the hell out of here, he just can’t summon the will to get up.

There’s a commotion in the hallway near the room he’s being kept, and when the door finally bursts open, his face falls when he sees Tony Stark.

“Did you disable the power?” Bucky asks immediately, not giving Tony a chance to make what he’s sure was meant to be a dramatic entrance.

“What? No. Why are you on the ground?” Tony asks, irritated, taking a few steps towards Bucky before a now-familiar buzzing fills his ears. Bucky watches, un-amused, as the lights flicker, and Tony freezes, his suit shorting out.

It’s not the same bone-crackling energy that had rendered him virtually useless earlier, but Bucky still grits his teeth at the feeling of it ripping up whatever sensors are left in his metal arm.

“Oh, god dammit.” Tony curses. “Steve is here. He’ll figure it out.”

“They’ve got a device like an EMP. Shorts out everything electrical.” He winces, “Makes me feel like my brain is leaking out of my ears.”

“That’ll mean Wilson down for the count too,” Tony mutters.

Overhead, the lights flicker once more and then they go out entirely. The walls seem to shake with the force of an explosion, and Bucky and Tony barely have a chance to exchange worried glances before they’re plunged into darkness.

Inside the quinjet, it feels like an earthquake.

Jemma doesn’t look up. “That’ll be Daisy,” she says casually.

Fitz is frowning. “That didn’t feel like a quake.” He stands, heading over to one of the monitors where he tries to get in touch with the rest of the team. “Daisy? Coulson?”

You try too, pressing your finger against the comms device in your ear. “Steve?”

You get no response, not from him, and not from anyone else. You start to feel dread prickling up your spine, and you surge to your feet, not able to just sit there anymore.

“I have to go help them.”

Simmons looks up at you, “You don’t have any way to defend yourself! If they’re not responding--”

“What, we’re going to just leave them in there?”

Fitz looks like he’s weighing his options. He moves quickly, digging into his backpack. He pulls out his sidearm, thrusting it at you. “You know how to use this?”

You swallow thickly. “Yes.”

“Then let’s go.” He shoulders his backpack, and you tuck the gun into your waistband.

“Fitz!” Simmons protests. “The Captain said to stay here—“

“Tell him it was my idea,” you say. “He can lecture me after we save his life.” You take off down the ramp before either of them can say anything else, but you’re relieved when you hear their footsteps following.

Inside, you’re immediately on edge at the lack of guards. You’ve got your borrowed gun at the ready, Fitz and Simmons silently behind you. “First floor is clear,” you whisper. On a whim, you press your finger to your ears again, just on an off chance. “Can anyone hear me?”

“Daisy!” Simmons exclaims before racing towards a figure slumped against a far wall. “Daisy? Can you hear me?”

Daisy groans, opening her eyes slowly. “Shit. Simmons?”

“What happened? We thought it was you--”

“It was me, but then there was this-- I don’t know. It felt like it was scrambling my brain. Took the power out. I tried to quake a few of the guards, but it knocked me out.”

“It only knocked out the powered people?”

“It shorted out my gloves,” Daisy says, getting to her feet. “It’s like it reversed the energy I was exerting and put it back at me.”

You blanche. “Steve and Bucky.”

Fitz echoes your worry. “Falcon and Iron Man have powered suits. Might have had the same effect on them, too.”

All you can think of is what Bucky might have felt - his arm literally is fused to his nerves - and you’re suddenly angrier than you’ve ever been. Forcing yourself to take a few deep breaths. You have no idea if Bucky’s realized your connection yet, but even if he hasn’t he’s got to be feeling some residual panic. You force yourself to calm down.

“There.” Fitz says suddenly, pointing towards the one room in the building with a light on. You can hear voices inside. “It’s Coulson.”

You walk up to the room slowly, gun drawn, the three SHIELD agents at your back. Peering around the corner, you can hear what almost sounds like a casual conversation between Coulson and some Hydra lunatic.

“-- what exactly is the grand plan? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s four Avengers here.”

The man scoffs. “A lot of good they are, aren’t they!” He laughs, “Captain Rogers here doesn’t look like he’s much up for anything right now.”

You take a deep breath when you see Steve slumped against the doorway. Slowly, you reach down, checking his pulse. Still alive, you reassure yourself.

“So you’ve got a device that can take out inhumans and the enhanced. What comes next?”

“Don’t forget it disables any man-made technology that aids the enhanced. Gives us a much more level playing field.”

“This is boring,” Coulson says, dry. “There’s no grand plan? You kidnapped Bucky Barnes to… what? To get Steve Rogers here? To get SHIELD here? You had to know someone would come.”

“The more Avengers we can take out at once, the better. And once we build this machine to its full potential, we can take out entire countries' worth of inhumans and the enhanced.”

You’ve heard enough. “New plan.” You say firmly, stepping around the corner, gun raised. Your eyes narrow. “Where’s Sergeant Barnes?”

The man looks unruffled. “I assume he’s in the cell where we left him, considering he’s only got one fully functioning arm.”

You glance over your shoulder at Fitz and Simmons. “Figure out a way to power that down.” Daisy stays out of sight, but you appreciate knowing you’ve got at least one superhero at your back. Gun still pointed at the Hydra agent, they hurry around him, analyzing the panels and buttons in front of them.

“I wondered if you’d come too,” the man says. He holds out a hand. “Alex Harrison. We haven’t met yet. Well, not officially.” He smirks, “Seen you around though, with the Asset.”

“He has a name.” You growl.

“Two minutes,” Fitz says, and you’re aware of Coulson reaching for his waistband, too. Behind you, Steve starts to rouse, and you fight off the panic at him immediately springing into action.

“Even if you destroy this machine, the plans won’t be stopped.”

“You talk too much,” Coulson says, lunging forward and hitting Harrison hard with the butt of his gun, sending him collapsing to the ground.

“Why didn’t you do that sooner?” You ask, and he shrugs.

“Had to find out about their evil plan.”

“What-- what are you doing here?” Steve asks groggily.

“Hate to break this up, but we need to find the others.” Daisy says. She looks at you, “Can you tell where he is?”

You concentrate on the bond.

“I’ve got him.”

Bucky thinks if he could avoid spending any extended period of time with Tony Stark again, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

“All I’m saying is… have you noticed her?”

He’s been needling Bucky about you for the last half hour, and Bucky’s about had it. “Shouldn’t we be trying to get the hell out of here?”

Tony glares. “Well, considering I can’t move…”

The door to the cell suddenly bursts open, and both Bucky and Tony flinch.

“Took you long enough!” Tony crows at the unfamiliar woman, holding her hand up not unlike Bucky’s seen Tony do.

“Bucky!”

His head snaps up at the sound of your voice. You’re there, in front of him, real and alive, hair escaping your ponytail in tendrils, clad in a bulletproof vest and a pair of jeans that he thinks he’ll be dreaming about for days to come.

Also, a gun.

He’s never pondered the attractiveness of firearms until now.

“This seems backwards,” Bucky says. “I should be the one attempting a daring rescue for you.”

“He’s not good at being grateful,” Tony mutters.

“Sergeant Barnes,” the woman says, interrupting. “I’m Daisy. I’m with SHIELD. It’s an honor to meet you.” She grabs his good arm, hoisting him to his feet.

“Brought the calvary, then?” Bucky asks you, over Daisy’s shoulder.

Daisy snorts. “Actually, yes, but don’t let Agent May hear you say that.”

“We have to go quickly.” You say, moving to Bucky’s side. “Are you hurt anywhere else? What did they--” your voice is getting increasingly panicked, and Bucky stops you.

“I’m okay.” He says softly. “Let’s go.”

Getting both himself and Tony oriented is a struggle as they fight off the effects of the EMP, but out in the corridor, he finds the rest of the team including Wilson and Steve congregating. He fights not to notice the way you stay close to his side, close enough to touch.

“How did you find me?” Bucky asks Steve.

Steve glances at you. “It’s a long story.”

Outside, on the quinjet, you busy yourself checking everyone for injuries and any signs of trauma from the Hydra device. You’re in your element, and Bucky can’t take his eyes off you.

He realizes how close he came to being done for. If not for the quickness of the team - however they found him - and for the fact that the trigger words don’t work anymore, he would have been lights out without ever telling you that he thinks you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

They land quickly, promising the SHIELD agents a chance to rest up at Stark Tower before they head back to their base.

You head to the infirmary with Bucky, whose arm is still shorted out.

“Let’s see if we can’t get you back up and running, okay, Sergeant?” Your smile is gentle.

“Yes ma’am.”

He watches you work, watches the way your forehead creases as you concentrate and the way you have tiny flecks of light in your eyes.

He wonders if you’ve got someone. You’ve never mentioned it, and he doesn’t think he’s imagining all these little moments the two of you have had together. There’s the matter of the mark. He hasn’t seen if you have one. He’s put off thinking about his own - or the lack thereof - for… decades.

He decides he doesn’t care. Not when you’re smiling at him like that, and indulging his bad jokes, and making him feel like he’s a normal person, not someone to be afraid of.

“Do you have plans tomorrow?” He blurts.

You look startled. “Uh-- no, I don’t think so.”

“Do you want to go out?” He takes a minute to relish in the surprised look on your face. “With me?”

A myriad of emotions flash across your face. One he doesn’t expect to see is sadness. It makes a lead weight settle in his stomach.

“Bucky…”

He’s afraid of what you’re going to say. He finds himself rushing to reassure you. “It’s not-- it doesn’t have to be anything serious. I just-- I want to spend time with you. Just us.”

You’re so still. It doesn’t track with anything he knows about you - the way you’re always moving, always taking care of everyone else.

“You want to go out with me?” You manage. “Like, a date?”

He smiles. “Yeah, like a date.”

“You want to go out on a date with me?” You ask him again, and he laughs, unable to believe that he has to explain why he thinks you’re so extraordinary.

“I’ve felt a connection with you since the minute we met. I can’t explain it, but it’s true. And the way you burst in there to rescue me, all guns and glory…” a wry smile twists his mouth. “How was I supposed to not want you?”

“Oh, Bucky.” You say, watery through your tears. But you’re smiling now, which is a far sight better than when he thought you were horrified by the prospect of being with him romantically.

He continues, feeling a burst of confidence. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this, so I’m sorry if I’m out of practice. I just-- I feel like I know you. I need you to know that even if-- if we’re not soulmates, even if you don’t believe in that shit, I still want you. I don’t see that changing any time soon.” Bucky’s voice is filled with conviction, and he watches as tears pool in your eyes and start to spill over. “Oh, honey, no.” He reaches for you, but stops halfway. “Don’t cry. I’ll-- what do you need? If you need me to fuck off and never be seen again, I know a guy who can make that happen,” he says, trying to lighten the mood.

A choked sob leaves your mouth, but now you’re smiling, so Bucky takes it as a good sign, though he’s still terrified you’re going to turn tail and leave him standing here. “What is it? Why are you-- please don’t cry.”

You don’t say anything, but it happens almost in slow motion. You lift up your left arm and slowly push up the sleeve, and start to take off your watch. Underneath, in faded black ink, is a vine of ivy, trailing around your delicate wrist, small leaves dotting your veins.

His entire world stops. He’s speechless. He has absolutely no idea what to say. His brain is just screaming, you belong to her, you belong to her over and over again.

“I knew I was yours, but I thought that you didn’t belong to me.” You’re saying. “I-- I didn’t want to trap you, I--.”

“Why would you think that?” His voice cracks.

You look confused. “You don’t have a mark, Buck, I’m your doctor, I saw your arm--”

“My left arm.” His voice is hoarse.

“What?”

“My mark was on my left arm. It showed up in 1934, before the war, before… everything.”

The air whooshes from the room.

“What did it look like?” You ask timidly.

He smiles, stepping closer. “Why don’t you tell me?” He takes your hand, slowly, like he’s afraid he’s going to spook you.

“If this is a joke--”

“I would never joke about this.” He says, hoarse. “I got my mark when I was seventeen years old, and all I thought about for years was finding my match.” Feeling braver, he reaches forward, cupping your face in his palm. “They took that from me,” he says. “Kind of fitting the one to rescue me from Hydra was also the one to bring my mark back to me, right?”

You laugh, a little choked through your tears, and he leans down, tracing the pattern he knows so well with his fingertips on his good hand. “There’s a pale pink flower,” he whispers, looking you dead in the eyes. “Right about here.” His thumb presses lightly at the crook of your elbow, where you know a flower sits.

“It’s how I found you.” You tell him, and the pieces start to click into place. “I dreamed about you, but I think it was more of a vision.”

“You were the one to realize I’d been taken?” He asks, feeling his heart squeeze. “Jesus.”

“Called Steve in the middle of the night. Demanded he listen to me and he came to get me from SHIELD.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he says, a smile growing on his face. “In a good way,” he adds. Then, quieter, “I’ve dreamed of you too.” He whispers.

You’re both quiet for a few minutes. “What do we do now?” You ask, and he shrugs.

“Don’t know. I haven’t done this before.” HIs eyes are filled with mirth.

“Oh… you-- shut up.”

He grins - he has a feeling riling you up is going to be one of his favorite pastimes.

“Let me get your arm up and running, and then we’ll talk.” You eye him carefully. “I might have to get Tony for the hardwiring.”

Bucky lets his head drop back as he groans. “Anyone but him.”

You cackle delightedly. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

He brightens at the use of the endearment. He feels - it’s a dream. Seventy years of waiting, and somehow, in the back of his mind, he knew you were different the minute he met you.

He knows you have a lot to talk about - a lot to decide, a lot to work through. He feels almost invincible, though, especially after thinking for so long that he would never find his match if he didn’t have his mark anymore. He still can’t fathom how he got so lucky for it to be you.

You feel like you’re walking on clouds for the rest of the day. After some good-natured ribbing from the team, and from SHIELD - you promised to stay in touch with them, if only to convince Steve and Tony to come around and start working with them again; you quite like Phil Coulson - they mostly leave you and Bucky alone.

You hole up in his apartment for nearly the entire day, talking about everything you can think of. Your childhood, his childhood, even the rough parts that make his voice catch and harden… you sit right there and hold his hand through it.

You can almost feel your bond like a living, breathing thing now. It’s electric when the two of you touch, something that you’d always noticed but tried not to put any weight on.

Now, it seems so obvious.

He kisses you goodnight. It sends a flare of heat through you and nearly makes you dizzy, and you want him to do it again as soon as it ends.

He reminds you that you’ve got a lifetime to sort out what this all means.

A lifetime with Bucky Barnes sounds like a dream.

You can’t wait.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #this is the longest bucky fic i've ever written???#maybe even the longest fic i've ever posted to this blog #WHEW

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stefanmikaleson1864 · 4 years

Text

My Sunshine

Can you write a one Chicago with a fem reader who works at med as an pediatric surgeon and is the niece of Mouch and Trudy and dating Sylvie Brett? Maybe for plot there’s a hospital shooting and the reader gets shot and almost bleeds out in Brett's arms and lots of angst??

Warning: This has gun violence, and a shooting in a hospital

You loved your job every part and every perk that came along with it. You got to save lives and help people. It made you feel like you were bigger than yourself.

One of the major perks it came with was meeting your amazing and beautiful girlfriend. Sylvie Brett.

You remember the time she came into the hospital with a young kid who was having an asthma attack.

She was so kind and sweet to the child it made your heart melt. When you looked at her it was like you were looking at sunshine.

Something so sweet and pure how could someone be so perfect you thought to yourself.

Now here you were a Platt. Your Aunt was The one and the only Trudy Platt. And let’s just say you got her personality.

Which you were grateful for. You were one to take charge and be more vocal.

So when you followed Brett into the breakroom that day you went straight up to her and asked her out. Which she smiled so lovely and said of course.

Now it’s been 3 years later and you guys were living together and it was so amazing.

You had recently went out with your Uncle Randall to get a ring to pop the question.

It was the perfect time. Sense Mouch worked with Sylvie he could ask the questions without giving it away.

This morning you woke up like more happier and more nervous than you have ever been in your entire life.

This morning after shift you were going to take Sylvie to park that you had decorated with flowers and lights to purpose with.

It was going to be just the two of you followed by a celebration at Molly’s.

While you were getting dressed Sylvie wrapped her arms around you and gave you a sweet kiss. She was in a good mood this morning you thought.

“Good Morning my Love.” you said to her

“Good Morning my beautiful girlfriend. I love you” Sylvie basically sang to you.

“I love you too now let’s finished getting ready so we can get this shift over with. So we can have our date tonight.” You said pecking her and she hummed in your lips.

The two of you finished getting dressed and Sylvie dropped you off at work.

This shift was dragging by. It felt like eternity and you just wanted it to end.

You were down in the ER and you saw Sylvie bring a patient in.

You were going over to say hi when she was done but then you heard a man come into the ER screaming and acting crazy you ran over to see if you could help.

Next thing you know you saw a gun and before you had a chance to react the gun went off. Pop, Pop, Pop Pop.

You heard everyone was screaming.

You didn’t have time to react because you felt something cold run down your chest.

You looked down and saw blood and next thing you know you felt your knees went weak and then everything went black.

Sylvie ran over to your side and started screaming and crying. As soon it started it was over. Jay and Erin had been in the building to talk to a witness when everything was going on. Thank god for that.

The suspect was taken down by Jay and the body guards.

Sylvie watched the whole thing happen. It was like a slow motion experience. Like she was out of her own body. This wasn’t happening this couldn’t be real.

She ran over to you and instantly tried to stop the bleeding and grabbed you and pulled you into her chest. She was shaking and screaming and crying.

She was covered in your blood. Will came running over with some nurses and a stretcher. She couldn’t let you go. She couldn’t bear it

“I got her okay, let me help her you can trust me.” Will said

“It’s okay Sylvie let will do his job.” Gabby said.

Sylvie handed you over to Will and he ran you into the Trauma Bay. Sylvie quickly followed and watched as they worked on you.

It was a rough patch. You had coded and they had worked on you for a little bit. You kept flat lining.

Sylvie could only sit by and watch as they worked so hard on you. The love of her life. She prayed and prayed that you would be okay.

Luckily there were no fatalities and only 3 others were injured. Two nurses and one tech.

Not so much later Mouch and Trudy and everyone else came to the hospital. They all sat in the waiting room.

You got rushed into surgery. It was a couple hours that had gone by. It was hard on everyone they all loved you and was worried about Sylvie.

Will came into the room and told Sylvie that you were out of surgery. You were stable for now but you weren’t out of the woods yet.

Trudy told Sylvie that she should be the first to go back. When she got there you were starting to come out of the anesthesia.

She sat down next to you and grabbed your hand. You smiled back at her and squeezed her hand.

“Hey you said, how are you?” you asked her.

She laughed and cried

“Me i’m supposed to ask you that question.” she said

You wiped her tears away.

“I’m Okay really i just had so much better plans for today. I had this whole thing in my head how it was going on and then all this happened. Your the only thing that went through my mind when everything was happening.” you said

“ I know baby but the only thing that matters is that you're okay and you're going to get better.” sylvie said

“It wasn’t just a regular date for me i know it sounds stupid and this isn’t how it was supposed to happen but now i don’t wanna wait i have to ask you now before anything else goes on. Sylvie Brett I love you so much and you're the best thing that ever happened to me. Will you Marry Me ?.”

You had never felt so nervous before and my god you were just shot and nearly dead. Sylvie was quiet for a minute and it made you worried. What if you just screwed everything up.

She laughed so loud and you thought oh no she thinks i’m an idiot. She went into her pocket and pulled out a box. She opened it up and it was the most beautiful ring ever.

“ i have been carrying this around all day. I was too nervous. I would leave it at home or something would happen. Tonight isn’t just a date for me either, I wanted to be the one to ask you to marry me.” she said laughing and pulled the ring out of the box.

“If you don’t hurry up and put that beautiful ring on my finger babe.” you told her.

You both laughed and you felt so happy and full of love knowing you were gonna marry the love of your life.

“I can only imagine how tonight would have been Sylvie said laughing before kissing you.

#sylvie brett #one chicago #gabby dawson #Chicago Fire #chicago med #Chicago PD #one chicago imagine #sylvie brett x reader #sylvie brett imagine #will halstead #jay halstead #erin lindsay #mouch #chicago fire imagine #chicago fire x reader #mentions of a gun #gun violence #shooting #one chicago x reader

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doing-all-write · 4 years

Text

don’t be a baby

Pairing: Billy x Reader

Summary: Reader is a nurse who’s brother falls into the Sky Walker crowd. After he gets injured, Billy takes it upon himself to look after Reader’s brother and calm Reader’s nerves as they get ready for their next job. But when the job goes awry and Reader can’t keep Billy safe, how does she cope?

Word Count: 11K

Warnings: Smut (only 18+ interact please!), swearing, blood and softness bc we love two idiots pining over each other but refusing to acknowledge their feelings for each other!!

A/N: I wrote this in a caffeine fueled burst of inspiration after talking to @mrhoemazzello about how much of a baby Billy would be when he gets injured and you have to patch him up and it made me so soft and shoutout to @itsabenthing for helping me flesh out this idea and for always being such a great cheerleader 💖but this bad boy is DEFINITELY going to be a two parter so keep an eye out part two coming soon!

Also the first part of this story takes place before the events of 6Underground and the job they’re planning and go on is the one in the movie just to give everyone some context.

💖💖As always likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated 💖💖

There was a thump at the window.

She ignored it. It was close to midnight and the idea that someone could be knocking on her (three stories high) window at this time seemed ludicrous. She groaned, shifting in the chair she had curled up in hours ago, reaching out for the sweet release of unconsciousness to claim her before her anxiety kept her up.

She knew Billy was most likely gone. She didn't want to admit it to herself but the relentless loop in her head was a broken record of he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone.

There was still a part of her that hoped Billy had gotten away unscathed. She had seen him in action, she knew what he was capable of and she sent out a wish that Billy would come running into her apartment like the day he came running into the hospital.

~~~

She had been working in the Emergency Room, taking over a fellow nurses night rotations in exchange for a few extra days off, when a man had limped in, blue eyes frantic, blonde hair damp and smashed to his forehead, carrying what looked like a dummy in a hoodie, both of them covered in dried blood.

She raced around the desk to them, looping the arm of the prone man around her shoulders as she helped steer them to the nearest room. The blonde kept babbling on about how the man between them had hurt himself while they wrestled the man into a bed. Once the unconscious man was laying down, she pulled back the hood obscuring his face and felt her soul leave her body.

Her brother's face was the one staring back at her.

Now is not the time. Pull it together. You know what to do. Her Nurse Brain kicked in and she shoved the blonde to the side as she hastily started taking care of her brother. Once he had been stabilized and diagnosed with nothing more than a nasty bump on the head, a broken ankle and a badly bloodied nose, she had shoved the shadow who had been following her around into the hallway, crowding him into the supply closet and demanding answers.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Oh, careful there, love. You keep talking dirty to me like that and I'll fall in love with you."

"Why the fuck were you with my brother?"

"Taking him out on a date because he spoke to me with the same dirty mouth you both share apparently."

He was obstinate, shifting between smart ass answers and flirting as she tried to get any scrap of information from him. She finally hit her limit and spat out, "He's my fucking brother and if you don't tell me what happened, I'll assume it was you and have you thrown in jail. I don't give a fuck about you," She had jabbed a finger into his chest and he winced, "but I do give a fuck about my family."

Her Nurse Brain activated again when she saw him wince. Eyes zipping over him, assessing, she took in his bloodied face and hands. "Unzip your hoodie."

"Interesting. I'd always heard that angry sex was the best. Can't believe I'm gonna find out if that's true in this supply closet."

Rolling her eyes, she'd batted his hands away as he tried to prevent her from unzipping his hoodie. Fixing him with her if you don't let me do my fucking job I'll kill you and make it look like an accident stare, he had held his hands up in surrender.

Metallic ticks were the only noise as she pulled the zipper down, revealing the red tank top underneath.

"Wait, was this originally white?"

A huff of breath was the only answer she received before she pulled him back into the room with her brother, patching him up while she kept up a running commentary of grumbling about how he had endangered not only her own brother but also himself.

"I mean, what kind of stupid, reckless, idiot would do something like that! Jesus, you see one too many Marvel movies and think, 'hmm, that looks easy. I can do that too!' I mean honestly."

Her monologue was interrupted by the feel of a rough palm grasping her forearm. It seemed like trying to get the next words out were more painful than sustaining the injuries he had already taken that night, "I was protecting him. He works with our crew well and I told him not to come with us but he insisted. Said he needed these jobs so he could help his little sister pay off her student loans."

That had shut her up.

~~~

He didn't remember falling asleep but he stirred as he felt his arm being moved.

"It's okay, it's just me."

"I'm sorry, I don't know a 'me'. I only know the hard ass nurse who I had incredible sexual chemistry with." He heard her huff out a breath, could almost hear her eyes rolling as well. Her fingers were gentle as she made sure the IV drip in his arm was still firmly in place. She saw his lips quirk and rolled her eyes, again, "Go back to sleep. I like you more when you're unconscious."

"Great bedside manner you have there, sweetheart. You got a name?"

There was silence, then, "It's (Y/N)."

He sighed, "Well, (Y/N), it's nice to meet you. I'm Billy, and that guy in the opposite bed? That's Mark. Though I'm assuming you two already know each other since you're related and all."

"If you weren't in a hospital bed, I'd smack you."

"There's that bedside manner that keeps the patients coming back."

~~~

Billy didn't remember when he drifted off again but when he came to, the light on the other side of his eyelids was the dull yellow of the beginning rays of sunlight welcoming another morning. Eyelids fluttering open, Billy had seen her, curled up in a hospital chair right by Mark's bed, hand cupping her brother's as their chests rose and fell in tandem. Feeling like he was encroaching on a private moment, he closed his eyes again, praying that the tear he felt running down his cheek would dry before either of them would wake up.

~~~

"Hey. (Y/N). Wake up. C'mon. I've got him from here, go home and shower. Grab some food."

Her eyelids flickered open and a groan came flying out of her mouth as she slowly started rolling her neck around. As she did so, she couldn't help her eyes from straying to the bed across the room. But it was empty.

~~~

Her brother had been discharged the next day and she'd been keeping a close eye on him since. A few days later, she kicked open the door of his apartment, yelling out a greeting as she tried to balance the two large tote bags of food, games and movies she had brought over to help keep him entertained and fed as he healed up.

"I know you're a purist when it comes to Star Trek but I brought over the reboots because one, Chris Pine is very easy on the eyes and two, Star Trek is Star Trek I mean, as long as someone says 'live long and prosper' you're good, right?"

Her voice trailed off as she padded into his living room only to be met with four pairs of eyes staring back at her. Everyone, including her brother, was wearing black athletic clothes making them look a bit like a goth gymnastics team, she felt like a toddler amongst them in her over-sized sweater and leggings.

Her eyes sought out her brother's in hopes he would explain. Mark's eyes pleaded with her to be understanding and it wasn't until she heard someone clear their throat that she realized she recognized the blue eyes staring back at her,

"I'll, uh, I'll just come help you unpack those bags. Okay, love?" The steel cutting along the edge of his words gave her no time to argue as she felt Billy's large hand pressing into her lower back as he shoved her into the kitchen.

Tripping over her feet, she flung the Star Trek DVD back onto the counter as she rounded on Billy.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" the words were pulverized through her clenched teeth. Her hands curled into fists to prevent them from shaking. She was terrified that these people were back in her brother's life, and only a few days after he had left the hospital because of their recklessness.

"It's so lovely to see you too! I missed you and your warm bedside manner so much darling." He snarled back as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Now is not the time. Last time you showed up in my life you almost got my brother killed. You better explain yourself now or I'm grabbing the broom and beating everyone in that room out the door and then breaking the broom over your head personally."

Blue eyes widened till she could see the whites all the way around them, "How are you allowed to take care of people? You should be locked up by the pigs not me." He swiveled around, grabbing a beer from the fridge and popping the top off by putting the lid of the bottle against the rim of the counter and hitting it with the heel of his hand.

Peering out of the corner of his eye he saw her eyes widen, a flush building in her cheeks. She hated how that simple action had sent a flash of warmth through her.

Smirking, he turned back to her, bringing the bottle to his lips, taking a long sip as she shook herself from thinking about what other things Billy could do with his hands.

So maybe she had noticed how handsome he was after he had fallen asleep in the hospital. She was only human.

"While I'm so glad you're enjoying my brothers hospitality, maybe you could dignify me with an answer?" She knew the sarcasm dripping from every word was poisonous but she couldn't help herself. Just because she had seen dried tear tracks on Billy's face when she had woken up to check on him in the cool dawn morning and, alright, maybe she had checked the medical records in the hospital for information on him ("It's like Facebook stalking!" her voice rising as she quickly tried to close his records after her co-worker called her out on it.) and maybe her heart had twisted in on itself when she woke up the next morning and he was gone and maybe she had spent a few thousand hours thinking about him and wondering if she would ever see him again didn't mean she wanted him in her life.

Right?

Sighing, Billy leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms as the bottle dangled between two long fingers, "We're planning another job and we asked your brother to do surveillance. All he'll be doing is sitting on that couch," he closed one eye, pointing towards the sofa Mark was currently residing at, "watching security cameras and making sure none of us get caught and warning us of any potential baddies around the corner. It's easy, it's harmless and you could even be sitting next to him babysitting if you're really that concerned about my safety."

Rolling her eyes, she stepped forward to start unpacking the bags, needing something to do with her hands and eyes. Looking right at Billy was like staring at the sun. She feared looking at him for too long would result in permanent damage from his eyes boring into hers, or that the fluttering in her stomach would get stronger the more she talked to him.

She'd be lying if she said she hadn't seen the group Billy ran with around the city. Walking along, earbuds in, minding her own business, she'd hear a thud, look up and instead of squirrels scampering along the telephone wires, it would be people. Executing flips, yelling, jeering, she'd watch in awe while Nurse Brain would be calculating what kind of injuries they'd sustain and how bad said injuries would be if they fell, but they never did.

They looked more comfortable walking in the sky than on the ground. They were flying. Confident. So sure that there would be something there to catch them. She had started calling them "Sky Walkers."

Every time she saw them from then on, she always had an ache in her heart for the rest of the day. She craved the security and confidence they had. She'd looked down at her feet encased in Nike's, cursing them for staying ground to the tiled floor of the hospital.

"All I know is, last time my brother got mixed up with you guys, he showed up at my hospital, bloody and unconscious." Her shoulders hunched forward as anger drained from her body thinking about how frightened she had been. "Can you blame me for being scared?"

This last sentence was almost missed by Billy. But seeing her look so defeated, Billy's heartstrings tugged. Mark talked about his sister a lot. It was clear they took care of each other. He had always wondered what it would have been like to have that consistency.

Placing Tupperware on the kitchen table, the silence stretched out as Billy sized her up. Finally, her eyes rose, meeting his underneath the harsh fluorescent light. The eyes staring into hers were calculating but not cold. They weren't the eyes of a doctor, sizing up a patient and only seeing a maze of veins, arteries and organs that with the right snip or stitch could be fixed. His was a gaze that peeled back the layers of skin and bone, seeing right into the most vulnerable parts of yourself.

"You've noticed that your loans are almost entirely paid off. Haven't you." It wasn't a question. It was a statement. Billy had been the one to walk Mark through the steps to help pay off her loans without it being suspicious. He had heard her on the other end of the line when she called to tell Mark how much her loans had gone down. The voice on the other end high-pitched, tinny, but the love between them so palpable he had to leave the room.

Her eyes darted down as she busied herself carrying Tupperware over to the fridge, her hair a curtain over her profile as she leaned down to place it in the fridge. "He loves you, you know. A lot. That's the only reason he took the gig." He took a sip of beer, watching her frame, way too still to not be listening, peering into the fridge but not seeing anything. "He's friends with Jean, the mastermind, out there and when he complained about how unfair it was of you to have so many loans, Jean offered him a cut of the benefits if he helped us with the job."

She didn't feel the coolness of the fridge air wafting over her, she felt nothing but enormous guilt. She was the reason he had been injured. That he was mixed up in this crowd. She was the reason he was putting himself in harms way and if he died? It would be all her fault.

Billy, chuckled to himself as she was gripped in the throes of an existential crisis, "Jean's a good guy but I think he mainly knew having a nurse in our good graces would be immeasurably helpful."

His eyes widened as she turned to face him, flecks of mascara caught in the tears moving down her face but she didn't seem to notice them streaking down. It seemed like she barely noticed him, "You have to keep an eye on him. Please. If anything happens to him-because of me-I-I don't..." her voice trailed off.

Billy crouched down, cupping her shoulders as he pressed his forehead into hers, "Hey. Hey, love. Love? Look at me, focus on my voice, okay?" He pulled back so he could look into both of her eyes. With enormous effort she pulled herself back to this moment, in her brothers kitchen, crouched on the floor with a Sky Walker. "I'll keep an eye on him. He's one of us now. We look after our own, got it? We always do." She nodded, searching his eyes for any sign of lying but there was none. Just warm, blue skies, promising her that from then on out, everything would be fine.

After their rendezvous in the kitchen, Billy had gone back to the living room to plan while she had splashed cold water on her face and pulled herself together. By the time she slunk out of the kitchen, arms wrapped around herself, everyone was leaving and Billy had his arm around a brunette girl who reeked of sexual experience and danger.

She was pretty sure she reeked of "Christmas Cookie" hand sanitizer and sexual frustration.

Billy caught her eye as he strolled out of the room, winking at her as he walked past.

Her heart caught in her throat at the action but remembered how his girlfriend was someone who flew through the air with enormous ease and she was someone who was locked on the ground.

Patching her brother up came easy to her. She wished it had been the first time she had fixed him up but that would be a lie. She went over to his apartment a few times a week. Sometimes the other Sky Walker's would be there, sometimes not. Most of the time if they were over, they spent their time planning the next big heist. Maps and blueprints covered every available surface and surveillance footage became a comforting background noise as she would prep dinner or check Mark's ankle and help him do physical therapy.

Sometimes it would just be Jean hanging out, playing video games with Mark. The first dinner he joined them for, she found she could barely look at him. The resentment towards him still a solid rock in her stomach.

A few meals later, Jean gently tugged her into the living room after she had gotten Mark set up in bed, "Alright. I know why you won't look at me. Let me have it."

He had sat on the couch for over an hour, hands folded in his lap, nodding as she ripped him a new one, getting out all of her fear and anger. Once she had run out of steam and was standing in front of him, he had taken her hands in his, making the same promise Billy had. That Mark was one of their own now. He would do everything he could to take care of him. The eyes peering back up at her were full of nothing but sincerity.

Glancing down, she sniffled, peering at their hands intertwined, "You have questionable tattoos." Jean barked out a laugh, "You think mine are bad? You should see some of Billy's."

From then on, she looked forward to having the Sky Walker's around. Whenever she entered Mark's apartment in the weeks leading up to the mission, her heart would speed up in anticipation.

Sometimes it would come crashing to the ground when she saw no sign of Billy. Other times, she was positive individuals could see her heart beating through her shirt when her eyes caught his from across the room.

The only downer was, if Billy was there, that usually meant his girlfriend, Cassandra, was there as well.

She had tried, a valiant effort in her opinion, to make nice with her. Most of the time, they were the only girls around. Working to find common ground with Cassandra was proving to be a difficult task, mainly because Cassandra would fix her with a blank stare until she slunk back into the kitchen to restock Mark's fridge.

The last straw for her had been when she had walked into Mark's apartment, yelling hello only to look up and see Cassandra fixing her with a blank stare and sharpening a knife

She quickly found that anyone who carried their own knife sharpening kit was someone she didn't particularly trust. It made her nervous then, that Billy did so much.

But she didn't want to interfere. She didn't want to think about all the lethal ways Cassandra could injure her with that blade if she found out she had meddled in her relationship.

When Billy was there, she could hardly stop the grin that threatened to split her face as she busied herself in the kitchen making food for everyone, jumping every time someone came into the kitchen, waiting for Billy to come in under the guise of getting a beverage but always stopping to chat with her.

Those stolen minutes in the kitchen with Billy were quickly becoming her favorite times.

She hadn't meant to develop a crush on Billy, but, how could she not? Other than the physical reasons, (she had once seen him take his shirt off to try on a new one and she almost dropped a whole bowl of soup into Mark's lap) he was genuine. Ever since he had looked into her eyes and promised to take care of her brother, he had kept that promise.

When plans would change, he'd come into the kitchen and update her. He'd tell her all the different contingency plans they had. And while she knew her brother wasn't going on this mission, she still felt a sense of peace wash over her as he walked her through the plan.

There was one night she asked him, "How did you even get into the Sky Walker stuff?" Coughing on the sip of beer he'd just downed, he made a choking noise, "The what stuff?"

Blushing, she realized she had let slip the private name she had called them ever since she first saw them leaping through the sky, "Umm, Sky Walkers? It's dumb, I know, but I saw you guys months ago leaping over buildings and wires and to me, from the ground, it was like you were walking on the sky, like you had mastered the force and the elements and I've called you that ever since..." her voice trailed off as Billy sat down next to her.

Laying his arms on the table, a smirk played across his lips, "Well, now that I know you're a huge Star Wars nerd, you're even cuter." his eyes dancing with mirth.

Her heart sank at that. She knew Billy didn't feel the same way about her (why would he when he had Cassandra slinking around out there waiting out for him to join her in the sky) but her heart still leaped at the knowledge that he thought she was cute.

His eyes fixed on an unseen spot as he mulled the name over, "I gotta say, I like the name Sky Walkers. Might bring that up to the whole team. Give you full credit and trademark rights of course." He winked and she giggled as she pulled her mug of tea closer.

"Why don't you join us in the living room? You're always welcome. And I have insider intel that when Jean's over, you two hang out like you're best friends. So why don't you want to hang out with me?" He made an exaggerated pouty face at her as she struggled to not lean over and bite his exposed bottom lip.

"Because you annoy me" she said primly as she lifted her mug to her mouth, then before she could stop herself, "and I don't think your girlfriend likes me very much."

The tea was scalding but she forced herself to take a long sip so she wouldn't have to look at Billy's face.

Billy sat there, studying her, she seemed so out of place with the dark clothes that were rotating in and out of Mark's place. They'd all be caught up in planning, then she'd come bursting into the apartment and it was like she was bringing sunshine in with her.

She painted her nails with pink sparkles, she watched romantic comedies, she told him about the little kids she played with in the hospital on her rounds, she laughed easily, she engaged with the other members of the crew, pulling them into her warmth, her goodness. She had patched all of them up at one time or another. The more she got to know the whole crew, the more she relaxed and the more she relaxed, the more Billy found sunshine spilling through her cracks and coaxing him towards her warmth.

But then, Cassandra would lazily lift an eyebrow at him, nod her head and he'd leave with her. He'd known Cassandra since he joined the Sky Walkers. They'd just recently started...well...he wouldn't call it "dating" so much as he and Cassandra would do a job together and then have mind blowing sex after when adrenaline made them both want to explode out of their skins.

He was starting to realize though that he and Cassandra didn't...talk. Not like how Billy talked to (Y/N).

He laid out his hands on the table, looking at his fingers. They were calloused, rough, covered in tattoos. Her hands were soft despite having to wash them a million times a day. ("I use lotion every day, multiple times a day, how do you not own lotion Billy?" He had walked into Mark's apartment the next day only to be met with a bottle of Bath and Body Works hand lotion being thrown at him by Mark. His heart had squeezed in his chest, making it hard for him to breathe.) and her nails were adorned with pink sparkles. His own nails were busted and, he was pretty sure, had dried blood under them.

He had no business thinking the butterflies that erupted in his stomach every time she smiled at him meant anything more than she was cute and he liked cute women. Never mind that if she said Cassandra didn't like her he was on the verge of saying he'd dump her.

"Yeah, well. Cassandra doesn't like too many people. I wouldn't worry about it too much." He slapped his hands on the table pushing himself up. Lifting her eyes from her mug she watched him retreat back into the living room, the muscles of his back moving and shifting as he made his way back to the Sky Walkers, slipping easily onto the arm of the chair Cassandra was lazing in.

She really hated how good they looked next to each other.

She finished her tea, listening to them finalizing plans and making arrangements for the job, which would happen the day after next.

She had been hoping she'd have a shift scheduled at the hospital but no such luck.

Sighing, she stood up to rinse her mug out. In less than 48 hours she would be back here, sitting with Mark, trying to keep herself occupied and to not care too much that Billy was out there and she couldn't do anything to keep him safe.

~~~

The job went awry so quickly.

She didn't know what to make of it. One minute she had been sitting on Mark's sofa, curled up with a book as Mark sat at his desk, surrounded by monitors. Listening to him call out commands, chuckle softly at jokes, the sharp tap of keys as he disconnected security cameras or diverted them away from where the Sky Walkers were prowling.

For a while, she had been standing behind him, watching all of this happen as the group slipped through the halls of a lavish hotel. Tapping Mark's shoulder, in an over exaggerated whisper, she told him to tell the team that she said good luck and that if any of them got injured she "wouldn't patch them up because then they wouldn't learn anything."

Mark rolled his eyes and obliged, reaching a hand down to squeeze (Y/N)'s in a reassuring gesture.

Through Mark's headset, she heard the team giving their thanks, promising her that this job would do away with the rest of her loans and they'd be back to her before she knew it. Billy had looked dead set into the nearest security camera and winked as he promised he'd come back in one piece.

A gasp flew form her parted lips as her brother cleared his throat, reminding Billy to get his ass moving and to stop flirting with his sister.

Then, shit hit the fan.

It started with her hearing Billy's roughly accented voice piercing through Mark's headphones, yelling about the jewels being fakes.

Mark talked him through it, as Jean yelled back at Billy which is when Mark started yelling.

That's when she had heard gunshots.

Everything was a blur after that. She ran to the monitors and thought she was looking at a video game. There were so many men with guns running towards where the Sky Walkers were she assumed it was an army of some sort. She saw the flash of guns discharging and people she knew, people she had come to love, fall to the ground where she hoped like hell they would get back up again.

Part of her wanted to call her hospital, pull some strings and help as many of them as she could but Mark had pulled her into his chest, telling her it was no use.

In the confusion and mayhem she thought she had seen Billy, necklace clamped firmly between his teeth, jumping through a window but she couldn't be sure.

So, she and Mark had to sit and wait. Till Jean came back.

Just Jean.

He explained what had happened as he and Mark sat at the kitchen table, nursing a bottle of whiskey. She had stayed for one drink but the grief didn't feel like one she could share in.

She finally left, as she walked away, each step thudded to the ground while the only refrain that carried her home was billybillybillybillybillybillybilly. It wasn't until she found herself standing outside of her front door that she realized her body had carried her home while her thoughts had been in the sky.

Her body felt heavier, though she knew that a part of her heart had died in Mark's apartment that night and she wasn't sure if it would ever be whole again.

Her body was on autopilot as she stepped into the shower but each drop of water hitting her back felt like a knife.

She knew Cassandra and the rest of the team were there to help him. No matter how she felt about Cassandra personally, she knew she was part of the team. They were there for back up but so many people were in the fray.

So many people gone.

The water had gone cold by the time she stepped out of the shower. Not that she could feel it anyway.

Braiding her hair, she settled down on the chair by her window. It overlooked the fire escape she would lounge on with a glass of wine on nice summer nights.

Tonight it was empty, utilitarian. Only reminding her of how many Billy had fallen through as he tried to get away.

She leaned her head against the window, feeling the glass pushing back against her skull. Easing the dull ache that throbbed within as she closed her eyes.

~~~

That's where she had been when she heard the first thump.

Sleep had been within her grasp when she heard the second thump.

Groggily reaching into her sweatpants pocket, she pulled her phone out and saw it was 3:14 am.

There were no texts or calls from Mark.

She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose, wondering if it was her neighbors making that noise.

The third thump rattled her window causing her to jolt out of her chair.

Slowly, she reached her hand forward, nudging the blinds back, letting her eyes adjust to the nighttime as the lights from street lamps below worked to permeate the darkness that covered the world. That's when she saw the dark lump of something on her fire escape.

Squinting her eyes, her first thought was, why would someone throw their garbage bag onto my fire escape?

Flicking on the lamp she had by the window, it cast an uneven glow over the lump revealing dark clothes and athletics shoes spattered with blood.

The figure raised its head and time slowed down in those moments. The wan light drifting up from below barely illuminated the eyes staring back at her but she'd know the color anywhere. Those blue eyes, the color of her sky, was the only way she knew it was Billy.

The rest of him resembled a man who had scrabbled his way back from hell. His face was covered in scraps and tears. His visage and hands covered with dried blood. There was a wound on his neck that was slowly leaking blood but had started to congeal into a nasty mess.

His hair was matted to his head. His right eye was ringed in the blues and blacks of the beginnings of a nasty black eye. Sweat shined on his face as he blearily took in her face. He did his best to fight the smile breaking over his lips but he was so grateful to see her he barely noticed when his lips cracked even more.

As she opened the window she heard someone panting "thank god thank god thank god" and it took her a minute to realize that the prayer was falling from her lips. She bundled Billy into her apartment, setting him down on the chair by the window, still warm from her body.

She locked the window, drawing her curtains closed and rushed over to the front door, double checking it had been locked as well. For extra security she pushed one of her kitchen chairs underneath the door knob.

Hearing a snort she turned, "You watch too many bad gangster movies as a kid?"

Fighting against the lump in her throat, her voice came out thick as she tried to match his snark, "Yeah, well. You'll thank me later when the bad guys are stopped by my Ikea chair."

He heaved out a sigh that she supposed was as close as he could get to a laugh in his state. Sinking deeper into the chair, hissing as he finally allowed his body to relax. Nurse Brain kicked in as she took stock of his body, where he was holding tension, where he was avoiding putting pressure, assessing how old the cuts were. After a quick run down, she raced to her freezer.

Filling her arms with every bag of frozen veggies she had, she quickly wrapped them in paper towels, briskly walking back over to Billy's form. She watched the rise and fall of his chest, listened to the rattle of every intake, so grateful for each shuttery breath.

The grateful feeling was quickly overcome by anger. This asshole.

This was the second time he had shown up to throw himself at her mercy in a horrific state. She almost wished he were dead. She felt her knees shake, betraying how grateful she was that he was alive and in her apartment.

Instead of telling him all that though, she slapped a bag of frozen peas on his eye.

Yelping, his body curled inward as his hand reached up to catch the bag, pressing the peas back into place, "What the fuck? These are bloody freezing. I barely make it out alive and you're trying to kill me with frost bite from," he pulled the bag back squinting at it, "frozen peas?"

"Oh I'm so sorry that the frozen veggies I slapped on your busted face so you don't swell up like a fucking balloon aren't to your liking. My sincerest apologizes your majesty." She hissed out as she slapped another bag on his side as he let out a grunt.

He pressed a hand to the bag against his side as she mumbled, her fingers dancing over his form as she poked and prodded, trying to feel what the damage was, what she could do for him here and if he needed to get to a hospital.

"Couldn't make this experience a little more pleasant could ya?" He didn't mean to be a dick but in his defense, he had had a hell of a day. The job didn't go at all like they planned, he'd lost friends, Cassandra turned out to be a backstabbing thief, he didn't get the necklace, he'd fallen from the top of a building and then, to really just make the day fucking wild, when he'd come too, some weirdo had offered him the strangest proposition he'd ever heard after pretending he was going to kill Billy.

So, yeah. He was a little grumpy.

"You're lucky I even let your sorry ass into my apartment. How do you even know where I live anyway?"

"I've been having you followed by my top men."

"You asked Mark didn't you."

"Fuck."

Her lips quirked up for a second as she finished rotating his foot around checking for any swelling or broken bones. Standing up she declared, "You don't have anything seriously wrong or broken on you which is a fucking miracle. Just some bad scraps that I can take care of here." She made her way to the hall closet where she kept a first aid kit and other medical accessories. Ever since Mark sliced his hand open one Thanksgiving which had been dubbed the "Bloodiest Thanksgiving Since The Pilgrims Landed" she figured she'd better be stocked.

Billy sank lower into the chair. Leaning his head back he let out a sigh, hearing (Y/N) mumbling to herself, rattling around, he could almost pretend that he had come over under normal circumstances.

Hearing the soft thud of her footfalls, he cracked an eye open as she pulled a stool closer to his face. Looking up at him through her eyelashes, she started pouring something on a cotton ball, "If you thought the frozen peas were bad you're really gonna hate this."

"What could be worse than-" his sentence was cut off by a strangled cry as she pressed the cotton ball onto the scrap by his eye. Slamming his fists on the arms of the chair, he felt his body seize up as he fought to keep control, "Fucking hell (Y/N). Seriously, they should revoke your nurses license."

"You keep disrespecting me like that and I'm just going to dump this whole bottle on you." She snapped at him. Billy pried his eyes open as he took deep breaths. He turned his head to face her, opening his mouth to fire off another comment when he glanced down at her hands and stopped.

She was getting more of the disinfectant on the floor and her legs than she was getting on the cotton ball held in her hand. Her voice managed to be strong and sure but her hands told a different story. One of anxiety, one of worry, one of relief.

"Were you worried about me baby?" His voice was so soft that for a second she wondered if someone else had entered her apartment. Locking eyes with him, she thought about how just hours before, she had been certain she would never see his face again.

Never joke with him again, talk to him, share a quiet moment with him, never learn everything about him, never sit with him at their own kitchen table one day.

She wanted that. She wanted hours and days and months and years of kitchen table talks with Billy. Feeling the relief at having him back with her, she didn't even think about her next actions.

She leaned forward and kissed him...only to pull back immediately, "Oh my god I'm such an idiot. Your lip is so busted, I'm so sorry I shouldn't have done that, that was so dumb and what if I had hurt you even more? That would have been terrible-"

Billy's hand reached up, cupping the back of her head and pulling her into him. Her lips were soft and he bet a hundred bucks that she used chapstick every day. He knew his lips were chapped, cracked and probably coated in dried blood but he didn't care. Feeling her pressed against him helped take away the fear he had been trying to tamp down ever since the maniac in the garage had pretended to kill him.

Finally pulling back he let out a shaky laugh, "Were you really that worried I wouldn't come back to you, love?"

"No, I was worried that you wouldn't help me pay off my loans. Fuck your safety, I needed money." She was trying to get them back to their usual banter but the big gulps of air she was taking betrayed how she was really feeling.

"You were worried about me. You wanted me to be safe and come back to you in one piece. Don't deny it." The smugness of his voice made her smile as she pressed a kiss to his cheek and whispered in his ear, "You ever tell anyone I said this and I'll deny it but, yes."

She pulled away, placing the cotton balls and bottle on the floor, giving herself some time to collect herself as Billy reached his hands toward her, grabbing her own and rubbing his thumbs over the backs of her hands, sending sparks up her arms right into her heart.

Her heart ached for both of them. They both had lost so much today but they were lucky enough to be able to come back to each other. Billy heaved a sigh and looked up at her, "You were right."

"I usually am but what specifically was I right about in this instance?"

"You're a giant pain in my ass. About Cassandra. She wasn't trustworthy. Left me hanging off the edge of a building, stole the necklace and left the rest of the team behind," he brushed a piece of her hair out of the way, letting his fingers linger on her cheek, "should have listened to you."

Blushing, she leaned her cheek into Billy's palm, "Hmm, I could get used to hearing you tell me that." Billy chuckled as she straightened up and fixed him with a glare, "You just have to keep promising me you're going to come back to me in one piece."

Billy's eyes darkened, shifting in the chair as he remembered the deal the man in the room had proposed to him. Being able to go completely off the grid. Everything wiped clean. He would be a ghost.

But being in (Y/N)'s apartment, holding her hands in his, having her smile, kiss and hold him...he wondered if he had made the right decision.

"I'll do my best, darling." He muttered, purposefully not saying promise because he knew, some day soon, he would break that promise and he didn't know if he'd be able to live with himself knowing he had broken her trust.

Placing a soft kiss on his lips, she stroked the side of his face with her thumb. Sniffing she shook her head slightly, "Alright. Quit distracting me, I need to finish patching you up."

He chuckled, "Would it kill you to be nice to me? I mean, we just had an incredibly tender moment and I did have a pretty rough day..." his voice trailed off as he widened his eyes in an attempt to gain sympathy. She scoffed as she grabbed the cotton balls and disinfectant again.

"I suppose falling from the top of a building would kind of ruin your day. Now hold still. And don't be a baby." She dabbed the soaked cotton ball on the scrap on his neck, intertwining her fingers with his as he hissed out a breath. Squeezing his fingers, she murmured apologizes and encouragement, "I'm sorry my love, it's okay. Breathe. You're doing great."

After slapping some band-aids on the worst of the cuts ("What, no Spiderman Band-Aids?") she helped him to the shower, leaving him to wash off the day as she went to her room to find some sweats for him. Luckily, she had nicked plenty of Mark's sweatpants over the years so she laid those and a shirt out for Billy to find when he came into the room from his shower.

Hearing the door open, she looked up only to be met by a shirtless Billy, hair slicked back, chest damp, towel riding low on his hips. She didn't mean for the sharp intake of breath to be so audible but it was worth it when it earned her a smirk from Billy as he crossed over to her.

"Even beat up all to hell, still not a terrible sight, huh?"

Swallowing thickly she just nodded her head in agreement. Not trusting herself to speak she quickly turned and grabbed the clothes she laid out, shoved them into his arms and left, the sound of Billy chuckling following her out into the living room.

Settling onto her couch she fiddled with the end of her braid, contemplating why she had seen anguish flash through Billy's eyes when she made him promise to come back to her in one piece. She had definitely noticed the lack of the word "promise" when Billy answered her request.

The timeline of what happened since he fell didn't make much sense either. If Billy had fallen from the building, then where had he been for so long? There was no way somebody would have ignored a body laying unconscious in the street, especially with cops swarming the building.

"Baby? Hey. I can sleep on the couch. I don't mind."

Jolting out of her thoughts, she blinked as she came back to the present moment, Billy standing over her, "No! You shouldn't be sleeping on a couch. You can sleep in my bed."

"I've been waiting for an invitation to your bed for a long time baby." She flushed as she pushed herself off the couch. Grabbing Billy's hand, they walked back to her bedroom. Settling themselves under the covers she was gripped by a sudden wave of anxiety, should she try to cuddle with him? Would he want space now? Did she want to give him space? He was the one sharing her bed.

The anxiety melted away when she heard a voice in her ear, "Come here, love. I won't bite. Unless you're into that." She giggled she turned her body to face his, nuzzling her face into his chest, breathing in the smell of him as he wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss onto the top of her head.

Stroking her back, they drifted off to sleep. Their breathe synching up as they finally felt safe from the world as they created their own little one in each others arms.

The light streaming into her apartment caused her to stir. Stretching her body out she almost forgot that she had shared a bed with Billy last night. When she remembered, she was gripped with panic when she realized he was no longer there. Leaping from the bed, she raced into her living room, making sure that the door hadn't been busted down and Billy had been taken while she'd been sleeping. She knew it was illogical or she'd have to be the most sound sleeper on the planet but she still exhaled a breath when she saw her door was still locked and the chair underneath it still in place.

"Gotta say, I did sleep better knowing that we were protected by your highly sophisticated security system." She turned at the sound of his deep voice, he was standing at her stove, cooking eggs as he smiled at her, "Did you really think I'd leave you like I did the first time we met?"

Shaking her head she went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, exhaling as he wrapped one arm around her shoulders, using his other arm to keep stirring the eggs. "Don't scare me like that. I thought you got taken and I'm not Liam Neeson. I have no skills to use to find you." His chest rumbled with laughter, "Well, Liam Neeson isn't as pretty as you but you're crafty. I'd trust you to find me."

Placing a kiss onto his chest, she giggled, "Do you want coffee?" he nodded, "Also, how are you feeling today?"

"Sore. Like I fell from the top of a building and landed on concrete."

"Huh. Interesting. Did you do anything out of the ordinary yesterday?" Faux innocence lacing her voice as she measured out coffee grounds.

"Yeah. I fell from the top of a building and landed on concrete." Was Billy's deadpan response which had her cracking up which made Billy laugh at how hard she was laughing.

They finally pulled themselves together and stared at each other, him smiling, her hiccuping as she wiped at her eyes, "We're some pretty sick fucks for laughing at something like that, huh?"

He shrugged, "Probably. But it feels good to laugh. Especially with you."

After breakfast had been cleared away, Billy had stretched out on the couch, more bags of frozen peas on his various injuries. She came out of the kitchen, taking a moment to enjoy the peace before she broached the inevitable, "So, we should probably see Mark and Jean at some point. They're going to want to know you're okay."

Billy grunted in agreement, tipping his head back to look at her, "Yeah. That's not a bad idea. They're going to be pissed I came to you first before them though."

"I don't think so. I think they're just going to be relieved that you're alive. Plus, I am a nurse. It'd make sense to come to me and not those two chuckle fucks." She padded over to the couch, standing over him. "If you had gone to them first they would have just brought you to me anyway."

"That's true." He gazed up at her before grabbing her hands and tugging her down. Resisting, she giggled, "I don't want to fall on top of you and hurt you more, but I'll lie down next to you if you want."

He nodded eagerly, shifting his body over on the couch to make room for her, she curled up against him. Their legs intertwining as she splayed a hand over his chest, the rise and fall of his chest a balm to her anxiety and helping root her to him.

Inhaling deeply, then instantly regretting it at how it caused his ribcage to feel like it might crack, Billy felt more content here than he ever had in his entire life. He wanted to capture this feeling, bottle it, find a way to make it permanent. Make it stick so he wouldn't have to do what he knew was coming.

Sighing, (Y/N) snuggled closer, and his heart broke at how cruel he was being, how selfish. But he couldn't help it. He had asked for 24 hours and by god if he wouldn't make the most of them.

"Hey." he murmured into her hair, she made a noise in the back of her throat that made his heart skip a beat. He brought two fingers to her chin, tilting her head back so she'd be forced to look at him. A slow grin traveled across her lips as he drank in her face, memorizing every part of it so he'd never forget. He had done it so many times in Mark's apartment in shitty lighting that in good lighting, it was like seeing your favorite painting in person instead of through a computer screen.

Leaning down, he brought his lips to hers. Cupping his cheek with her hand, she kissed him back, relishing in how good it felt to be able to do this instead of just imagining it. Pulling back she smiled, resting her forehead against his.

"What is it, baby?"

"It just...you have no idea how long I've wanted this. And to finally be able to do it...I don't know. It feels really good to have you here, with me. Like this." Widening her eyes she pulled back, "Not like, you being injured but like being with you in this, way." Her voice trailing off when she became bashful at how vulnerable she had just been.

The wave of love, adoration and warmth he felt for her crested over him, causing his eyes to fall closed to keep the tears at bay. He didn't deserve this, he didn't deserve her. But, fuck, he would make the most of this time with her and make sure she knew how much he loved her.

Tilting his head back down, he locked their lips together. She moved her lips against his, memorizing their curves, their slopes, how they fit together. Her hand cupped his cheek, being mindful of his black eye and the various scraps covering the planes of it.

Feeling her hands caress his face with care, Billy became overcome. He was upset, guilt-ridden and worried he had made the wrong decision. Fighting to keep himself in the moment, he deepened the kiss, gripping her waist with an intensity that startled her. She jolted forward, causing Billy to groan when her heat made contact with the bulge that was growing larger by the second.

"Damn baby, we've only been kissing for a minute, quit trying to get into my pants already."

"You wish I was trying to get into your pants." her lips brushed against his with every other word and she could feel him smiling. He nipped at her bottom lip, causing her to gasp which allowed him ample time to connect their lips, exploring her mouth with his tongue. Their hands drifting up and down their sides, exploring as they got more comfortable with each others forms.

Dancing her fingers down his arms, she felt the muscles clenching and unclenching as his hand found her hip and squeezed causing her to moan involuntarily. Smirking, he ran his hand up and over the rise of her hip, trailing his fingers down into the dip of her waist. She snuggled closer to Billy, breathing in coffee, disinfectant and the unmistakable scent that was Billy.

Draping his arm over her waist, he pulled her even closer to him. Feeling his hardening length in his sweatpants she tested the waters by circling her hips against him. Causing a moan to erupt from his mouth and throw his head back in ecstasy.

"Baby, what's the professional nurses opinion of having sex when someone's injured? Asking for myself because if I don't have sex with you tonight I just may toss myself off another building."

Giggling, she ran her fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead so she could look in his eyes, "In a nurses opinion? Probably not. But in (Y/N)'s personal opinion? Who gives a shit I've wanted to fuck you since the first day I saw you."

Locking his eyes onto hers, her breath hitched in her throat at the intensity of his gaze. His normally sky blue eyes were the color before a storm and his hand was locked onto her hip with a strength that she couldn't wait to explore later.

"Then get up here, baby, and fuck me how you've always wanted to."

Swinging her leg over, she found herself straddling Billy, placing her hands on his chest, she felt the large planes of his chest expanding as he took a shaky breath in, his eyes glassy. Flicking her hair back she leaned forward to kiss him deeply, "What baby?"

Shaking his head he cleared his throat, "Nothing. Just, dammit baby. You look like a goddess."

Blushing she bent down to nip at his throat, causing him to buck his hips up, causing his hard length to rub against her clothed cunt causing them both to dissolve into moans. Pushing herself up, she started rocking her hips teasingly along his cock.

Whining in the back of his throat he begged, "Please, love, I don't care, just fuck me. Please."

Shocked at the control she had over this man, she ripped the t shirt she had been wearing over her head, exposing her tits and black underwear she had been wearing. Billy keened and grasped her tits, causing her to push her chest forward, the feel of his calloused palms teasing her nipples caused her eyes to roll into the back of her head.

Billy reached his hands down, shimmying his sweatpants and underwear down far enough so his cock sprang up between them, her mouth watering at how thick it was. Stroking her center through her panties with two fingers he cocked an eyebrow at her, "I can't exactly fuck you through these so they'll have to go. I don't care how sexy they are."

Laughing, she stood up on the couch, resting one hand on the wall as she shimmied the panties down her legs, kneeling back over Billy's exposed length when Billy stopped her, "Wait, hold on a second baby." He teased one finger, then another into her dripping core, pumping in and out slowly as she rocked her hips forward trying to get more of him into her.

Billy slowly dragged them out, popping his fingers into his mouth and holding eye contact with (Y/N) as he sucked his fingers clean, relishing the sweet taste of her, "Okay, baby. I think you're wet enough."

"Damn right I am." She murmured as she sank down onto his hard cock, taking his full length, resting her hands on Billy's strong chest pushing her tits together in the most delicious way Billy had ever seen. His hands found purchase on her hips as she started rocking back and forth, working his length. Feeling his cock stretching her walls in the most amazing way, she tilted her pelvis in that way she knew would have his cock nudging her g-spot, getting her closer to where she wanted to be, which was total ecstasy with Billy.

Billy's eyes screwed closed as she found her rhythm and worked his cock, trying to reach her orgasm. His whole body felt like an exposed fuse, bursting with energy and if she touched him in the right way he would combust.

"Billy, please, rub my clit..." she panted as she rocked her hips faster, Billy could feel her walls clenching as she went faster and he reached down, rubbing the sensitive nub with his calloused fingers, causing her eyes to roll into the back of her head as she chased her high, "Is that what you want baby? Yeah? You wanna come all over this cock?" Billy mumbled as she stared up at the angel fucking herself over on his cock. He almost came seeing how blissed out she was but then he rubbed a little harder on her clit and it pushed her right over the edge. She came with a strangled cry of "Billy!" and her walls clamped down as she fell forward into his chest.

"There's a girl, such a good girl. My best girl. My only girl. Oh my love, taking me so well..." Billy mumbled as he stroked her hair, "Now, let me take over." She nodded as Billy grasped her hips and started slamming his hips against hers, causing her to moan out, feeling her pussy tighten again as he brought a hand down to her ass, the sound of the sharp slap reverberating through her apartment.

Distantly, in the back of her mind, she wondered if this was good for him in his current injured state but being so close to a second orgasm left her with one thought but to cum around his cock again.

Finding a rhythm, their hips met as she pressed her lips to his, catching his moans and hoping to mute her own as they fucked each other into oblivion. All too soon, she felt the familiar catch in her stomach as her second orgasm came around, "Billy..I..I'm so close."

"I know darling, me too. Can you wait? Can you cum with me? Please baby." She nodded as Billy fucked her harder, she rocked her hips faster and then suddenly, Billy let loose a string of expletives and she chanted billy billy billy oh god over and over again like a prayer as she felt him fill her pussy with his warm cum.

After a few minutes, she pulled away from his sweaty chest, pushing her hair behind her ears as she grinned down at him. Grinning back up at her, he tickled her waist, "Normally I can last longer but that sex has been building up for several months."

Throwing her head back she let out a laugh, "Don't worry. I don't plan on stopping having sex with you anytime soon. We have all the time in the world to build up a tolerance to each other."

A dark look washed over Billy's face as he contemplated how little time they had but instead of answering, he pulled her down into another kiss, "Let's just focus on today, love."

~~~

They spent the rest of the day entwined on the couch, mixing it up between lazy make out sessions, sex and her standing up to get the door when the delivery person rang the door to drop off food and beer.

She had asked if Billy wanted her to text Mark and Jean but he just told her he would deal with it soon. So she didn't push it. She knew she was being selfish but she wanted to keep living in this world that consisted of her, Billy and the pizza they ordered alive for as long as she could.

Unfortunately, it ended all too soon as all good things are wont to do. Soon enough, Billy was pulling on his shoes, as it grew dark out, she had been getting comfortable when he knelt down next to the bed. "Listen, love. I need to drop off something to Mark and Jean. Don't wait up for me." He leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead as she lifted her head up to meet him halfway.

"It's late babe, are you sure they'll still be up?" He fixed her with an incredulous look, "It's Mark and Jean. Of course they're still awake." She shrugged as she considered who they were talking about and conceded defeat. "Just come back to me in one piece okay? If you want," she hastily added as she realized he may want to go back to his own home "It's an open invitation. I'm sure you want to go home."

He smiled at her with melancholy in his eyes as he pressed a kiss to one cheek, "With you?" then a second kiss to her other cheek "I'm always home" Biting her lip to contain the smile threatening to break her face in two, Billy decided he had never seen a more beautiful woman and wanted to alway think of her like this.

~~~

She woke the next morning to 25 missed calls from Mark and 33 from Jean. Blearily, she called Mark. Once he picked up and started rambling, she hung up and stared straight up at the ceiling.

It wasn't until Mark came to get her after not hearing from her for hours did she register how damp her cheeks had become. She was numb. Time didn't mean anything, nothing meant anything anymore.

Billy was dead.

He had broken his promise.

~~~

Standing at the edge of a gaping hole in the world, she contemplated throwing herself into it along with the empty casket they'd be burying. She barely registered the low rumbles of a priest talking but not really hearing anything. Billy had gone to Mark and Jean, told them he needed to run a quick errand and gone back to the hotel they had just robbed from. He had been running along the roof, where it overlooked the rocky ledge of the ocean. He had jumped, thinking there was a platform there but there hadn't been. There was Billy, the air and the jagged rocks along the coast the only thing to greet him.

The coast guard searched for hours but had found no body. Just the black rubber bracelet he always wore around his wrist.

Twirling the bracelet between her fingers now, she decided that since the casket was empty, there was no point.

She had been numb since she got the news. Not moving from her couch unless Mark or Jean came to propel her into the shower, make her eat some food. but she really didn't see a point in doing anything anymore.

He had promised.

And now he was gone. So what did it matter what she did? People left, they broke promises, and words and promises didn't mean anything to anyone she guessed. She may as well do anything she wanted.

Lifting her head she saw Mark, Jean and two women who had introduced themselves as Billy's mother and sister. Mark had introduced her as Billy's girlfriend and they murmured how much Billy talked about her but it was all too little too late.

She didn't want to know anyone else other than Billy but that had been ripped from her. Standing at the edge of his grave she felt Mark and Jean grasping her shoulders, telling her they were going to give her some space. So it was just the three of them and as his sister looked at her, she smiled a thin smile, "You're just as pretty as he said you were."

She fell to her knees. It was all too much, She couldn't support herself without Billy. What did it matter? All her skills, all her knowledge about keeping people safe when she couldn't even save the person that mattered most.

~~~

"Oof, there are three certified hotties just weeping over your grave dude. How doe that feel?"

Billy's stomach clenched as he saw (Y/N) fall to her knees at his grave, watching his mother and sister race around to help her. It wasn't until One clapped a hand on his shoulder did he register that he had involuntarily moved forward to help her.

"Nuh-uh bro. Not anymore. Don't even think about doing a Christmas Carol Ghosts of Christmas Past bullshit. I spent way too much money for you to blow this whole operation."

Billy nodded mutely. Keeping an eye on the women around his grave he swallowed around the lump that had been stuck in his throat since he had left (Y/N)'s apartment.

What One had suggested to him had been too good to pass up. And when One had promised, in writing, that (Y/N) would always be kept safe and comfortable, it was a no brainer. And he knew, in his heart of hearts, that she deserved someone better, more stable than him. Not some Sky Walker who always had his head in the clouds.

Who one day may not come back to her.

Taking a deep breath he turned his back on the trio that were surrounding his grave. Sending up a prayer, he hoped she would be safe and would get over him soon. Because he knew he would never get over her for the rest of his short, harrowing life.

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kaplanwrites · 3 years

Text

02.6 Michael

Part1. Meeting.

For the last 40 hours Tim’s going only on caffeine and taurine from energetics, empty cans of which piles in trash bins +and that probably will go to the chapter where Kon calls Dick to take over the meeting because Tim sleeps exhausted after rehearsing his major defend+

He probably should sleep, but he just defended his minor, and he’s unable to move anywhere himself. He doesn’t want to try to resemble a human being right now, to be a responsible parent to his - beloved, but much too noisy - toddler, to check the fridge for milk and cupboards for cookies. Everyone coax him, so he tumbles down the street to the local bar which is surprisingly more fancy that any bar placed near campus ought to be, and crumples down at the nearest table, bracketed by fellow red-eyed caffeine-overdosed pre-grads and TAs.

After a couple of drinks (Irish coffee, don’t hold on whiskey, double sugar), he spots that one guy at the bar. The guy… he looks exactly like him; the buzz-cut, and wide shoulders, hair black in a yellowish light. He sits at a barstool, shapely legs clad in too-tight bootcuts, and sips on something creamy - is that a milkshake? He turns head to ask the barman something, and as light catches on a thick rim of glasses, so does Tim’s breath. He probably makes some sort of sound, because girls notice his attention, and one of them - Trish, probably - heard that The Guy’s name was Mike, and Mark, who actually lives at the campus, says that they heard that The Guy’s dishes out to cover his tuition.

And Tim’s wouldn’t do that just to relax, but then Mike turns to stand up, and his eyes glint blue, and he even has a slight curl in hair, and Tim _wants_.

It is convenient, really, no strings attached as they say, and nothing would happen if he’ll be covert, and if Tim is capable of anything - it’s stealth.

So after Mike leaves to the bathroom, Tim drops his contact card on his barstool and makes sure to lock eyes, to flash trademarked Wayne’s smile at Mark, when he returns.

***

Part2. Sex.

Mike calls, and they meet at the hotel and they kiss, and Tim stops and starts to backpedal because “he shouldn't be here, he has kid, and Mike - it's Michael, actually, - probably has STD’s, and they argue a bit, and then laugh, because Michael is indignant and Tim’s nervous, and Michael make monthly checkups, and anyways his clients are improbable to carry something, and Tim wonders why he would do it, and Michael wonders why TIM would do it, he’s gorgeous and rich can probably pick up anybody anywhere.

Tim says that people on campus know Mike’s occupation, but no one knows his clients and that what Tim needs.

They kiss some more and gropes each other a little until Tim’s phone goes off, and he needs to go. He pays the whole, and for the room.

***

Second time they’re in a fancier hotel, with decent-sized bed, and it’s midday and Tim wants to watch him strip, and to touch himself, and they fumble on bed, Michael naked, and Tim fully clothed, and Tim fucks him from behind until both of them sated and spent, and kisses Michael shoulders before leaving cash on the table and leaving the room.

Michael’s eyes are actually hazel, but it doesn’t matter.

***

Michael offers to rub his back, or to get a long bath together, when on a fourth or fifth time Tim actually chooses hotel near city center, fancy and with spacious bathroom - because Tim’s always dressed in at least one layer, and stiff and rigid underneath and Michael begins to suspect some kind of disfigure under clothes.

They talk, well, Michael talk at Tim as Tim sucks him off while spreading him with fingers, that it will be okay to show anything he hides under clothes, that it will be good to let go, and suddenly Tim gets up with an obscene pop, and Michael’s eyes want to cross, but he soldiers on and holds Tim’s intense gaze as he begins to undress.

And then Michael just stares at the scars that appear with each discarded garment, pale skin crisscrossed with long gashes and peppered with barely visible burn marks, and Tim says it’s sort of fun to have father and two older brothers addicted to extreme, and then he chuckles when Michael's eyes slips to the puckered bullet-hole, and says that that’s the price for charity in Gotham.

And then Michael is too preoccupied with remembering watching on tv a shooting of a philanthropist teenager, who then spent two years on crutches, with the thought of ‘how couldn’t I figured earlier that dark gotham and gorgeous was anyone but a Wayne’, and then he’s too busy getting properly fucked.

***

Tim’s careful not to meet Michael after visible injuries, but he makes sure to visit him every other week. He has ready stories about mountain bikes and rock climbing.

Afterward, he feels more focused, and he lashes out at people (at Kon) less, and, besides, he actually enjoys Michael’s presence.

***

Part3. Wrong name.

He holds a Wayne Tech Gala, and he gives a ticket to Kon, as a truce. He thinks, maybe Kon chooses to go with him.

Kon brings someone; she’s not even a name, she is blond and beautiful, like Cassie, and she is starry eyes, and happy to be here just because it’s luxurious - unlike Cassie.

Tim drowns his bourbon and prays that Ted will manage their little devil for one night. Kon doesn’t even have the decency to look smug, he just shakes hands, and smiles, and visibly relaxes when his plus-one leaves to gossip; and Tim isn't even jealous or disappointed, he’s just angry.

That night he makes Michael fuck him, and maybe he’s moaning the wrong name all the way through.

***

One morning Tim’s in the shower, and Michael’s barely awake, and there are Wayne tech blueprints scattered on the table, and those designs are awesome, and Michael cannot keep his eyes off them until Tim’s out of the shower. And:

‘I'm sorry, the designs of that power source, it’s beautiful, even more than I’ve anticipated’ - ‘You know what those are?’ - ‘You kidding me? I’m in electrical engineering, that’s all we talked about at campus after last ‘expo’’

They speak geek, and Tim tentatively proposes to get him an internship in the WayneTech. They visit once together, and Michael is absolutely enamored with the lead engineer, Cecil Walters.

At the first day of the internship, Michael comes up to him and asks him out to a date later, when he will be able to afford to take Cecil to a decent place. Everybody in the lab is scandalized, except for Tim (who is amused) and Cecil (who think it’s hilarious). Worse: Michael’s absolutely serious.

***

One time Michael comes with bruises in interesting places. Couple others he refuses to come at all. Tim sees him at the campus, with a split lip and marks on throat.

Tim makes Michael’s handsy client disappear, and Michael doesn’t ask questions about his dean sudden retirement.

***

Part 4. Truce.

They speak, mostly after sex, and Michael says that he’s going to lose this job. Tim frowns on this phrasing but keeps silent. Michael keeps explaining, that he was doing it to get through college, and it was nice and easy money and that once he’s finished, he wouldn’t need that anymore, especially with WT internship. And anyway he already got rid of most of his clientele, but Tim was always welcome to call, and is still, but only, like, a booty call. For free. Because Michael liked Tim’s dick that much, and also was somewhat addicted to this hotel’s jacuzzis’

‘So it’s not about Dr. Walters?’ Tim asks, after.

Michael looks up incredulously from where he’s pulling his socks on.

‘Huh, nah, it’s not about him yet. When I’ll finally get my hands on that genius of a man, no jacuzzi in the world would be able to separate us’

Tim shakes his head and actually laughs.

***

Tim calls him the next afternoon, and it’s unusual. Michael checks if he forgot something at the hotel, or in the car, but Tim’s frighteningly careful with that. They meet in the half-empty bar, and Tim says, that he wouldn’t be able to keep Michael’s company during long nights anymore.

Michael turns his smile away to the window, and Tim again astonished of the striking resemblance - the rounded jaw, thick neck - Michael’s bathed in the evening sun, haloed curly hair, and eyelashes golden in the slanted beams.

‘Tell me it’s not about you’re turned off by the free sex,’ he sips contentedly his latte, ‘And about your blind guy’.

Tim’s brow pitches, and then he pushes to put a smile on, cold and fake. ‘Why do you think he’s blind?’

‘One should be positively blind not to see a guy that hot under one’s nose. He’s that second dad to your kid, isn't he?’

Tim remembers a photo in his wallet, with two of them, Eli and Kon, and nods. ‘Yeah… and he... He basically forbade me to keep seeing you.’ He chuckles, the smile genuine now. ‘He actually caught me red-handed yesterday’.

‘Huh,’ Michael shakes his head. He wasn’t sure how those relationships worked; he was sure that Tim was too busy for anything between his kid and his job, and his mad brothers and this thing Michael and Tim has. Had. But apparently, Tim also managed to nurse this crush on the other dad - presumably the straight one. ‘So, did he got jealous?’

Tim nods, then shakes head ‘it’s not like that, it’s…’ He shrugs.

‘...complicated.’ Michael finished for him, taking cliche from his mouth. ‘Well he better be good for you in bed, or I will need to step up again, and you know, I was going to get serious with our department head.’ Michael huff's, pretending to be exasperated. Tim chuckles again, now mostly for the joke’s sake.

‘Tim, you know I would know that you’re not having any, we’re going to work in the same place in two months’

‘I’ll be fine, geez. And it will be Mr. Wayne two months from now, so you better get used to it’

Michael rolls his eyes and finishes his coffee in one gulp then hops from the barstool, leaves a tenner on a bar for their coffees. They shake hands, half-awkwardly, then Michael half-hugs Tim.

‘See you later, Mr. Wayne. And Good fuck.’

#tim x OMC #text #02 #timkon

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loissehilario · 3 years

Text

A Glimpse of Nanay Corazon’s Life In A Pandemic

Nanay Corazon listening attentively while her son, Desi Dee, talks about celebrity gossips during the afternoon.

Being a woman in her 80’s does not stop Corazon G. Hilario on living her life to the fullest. She likes to travel, explore and try activities, and just live in the moment. But when the pandemic hit the Philippines, her life turned into a cycle, like there is a schedule that needs to be followed. This is a glimpse of Nanay Corazon’s day in the life.

Nanay Corazon being injected by Apidra, a fast-acting insulin used to control high blood sugar by Cristina, her daughter-in-law at 8 in the morning.

Although her life does not sound interesting to some, I chose her as my subject for this photo essay. Nanay Corazon is my grandmother from my father’s side. My grandmother from my mother’s side died before I had the chance to meet her, so she is my one and only, literally. My siblings and I are very close to her, she is one of those people that really influenced me while growing up. Even though she does not have an interesting profession, an awesome life, or an influential person, I decided to pick her. I wanted to show people the view of being with my grandmother. I wanted to show a glimpse of what happens to an 81-year-old grandmother who has an 86-year-old husband, 5 kids, and 11 grandchildren. I wanted to tell her story.

Nanay Corazon readying to take Ketosteril, a medicine tablet that is commonly used as dietary supplements with kidney problems which is one out of her eleven medicines to take.

Nanay starts her day by getting pricked by a needle. Since she was hospitalized last year, our family took precautions on her health. Her food intake, medicines, blood sugar, and blood pressure are needed to be written down for her doctors to see every check-up. Every morning, Cristina, her daughter-in-law who is taking the role of her nurse, gets her blood sugar and blood pressure before breakfast. Today, her blood sugar was above normal, so she needed to be injected by Apidra, an insulin to control the blood sugar.

Crispy pandesal stuffed with coco jam held by Nanay Corazon for her breakfast.

After her morning check-up, Nanay proceeds on taking her breakfast. Since her food choices are limited, her breakfast is mainly pandesal with either coco jam or anchor as her palaman. Every morning, she needs to take 11 medicines. Most of the time, she eats breakfast in peace, just like today.

Every Tuesday and Friday, Nanay burns laurel, a bay leaf, that has her dreams and wishes written on it. Today, she performs this activity. Her dreams often have topics. Today, it is her dreams about her one and only daughter, Grace. Since the leaf is small, she needs 10-15 leaves. After writing, she burns all the leaves on a candle and compiles all the ashes. She puts all the ashes inside a tissue and lets someone discard it outside. For it to work, she says that it should be discarded while facing the sun. Sometimes, she is the one who throws it during her morning walk, but most of the time, she lets someone do it.

Nanay Corazon burning leaves of laurel, a bay leaf, which were written with her dreams, then compile the ashes inside a tissue, and throw them while facing the sun. She believes that this act will make her dreams come true.

To kill time before tanghalian, Nanay likes to watch Youtube. Her current favorite Youtuber is Mahal, a Filipino actress and entertainer. When I asked her why she likes her content, she said that it brings her joy. “Ayoko kasi ng mga nakakatakot, yung mga nakakagulat na palabas. Gusto ko yung masaya lang.” Her son, Desi Dee, likes to watch movies on Netflix which are mostly vampire and zombie movies. Since they live together, Nanay has no choice but to watch what her son watches even though most of the time, she hates this genre. Fun fact though, Nanay is a huge AlDub fan. When there is no new content from Mahal, she likes to watch clips or gossip about the love team, and everything related to Alden Richards and Maine Mendoza.

Just like her breakfast, her food during tanghalian is also limited. You often see her with the same meal every day. Today, her meal consists of daing na bangus paired with soup. During the afternoon, she needs to take three medicines and get her eye drops because she tends to have a red eye, just like Kaneki Ken from Tokyo Ghoul. She says it does not hurt though. Most of the time, she watches Eat Bulaga, a noontime show, while eating. Watching this show is a daily occurrence for her since she is a fan of Maine Mendoza. Her favorite segment is, “Bawal Judgmental”.

Nanay Corazon eating her meal for the afternoon which consists of: daing na bangus, one and a half cup of rice, soup, and three medicines.

Before going to bed for the afternoon, Nanay makes sure to do her business in the bathroom. Since she has trouble doing everything by herself, her son, Desi Dee, helps her when she goes into the bathroom. Today, she needed to wash her body to freshen up. She only washes her body 2-3 times a week. After that, she goes upstairs and kills time, again watching Mahal on her tablet.

Nanay always says she is not allowed to sleep during the afternoon. Whenever she sleeps, it affects the result of her blood sugar or blood pressure, so she tries not to sleep in the afternoon. Watching Youtube on the television keeps her awake till Cristina comes before the evening. Since Mahal is her favorite content creator now, she is indeed awake the whole afternoon.

After washing her body, Nanay Corazon goes to her room and watches her favorite vlogger, Mahal, in her tablet to kill time in the afternoon.

Cristina often goes every 5:30PM to conduct her “afternoon check-up” in Nanay. Just like what she did every morning, she gets the blood sugar and blood pressure of Nanay. They often talk to each other about everything, really. Their topics revolve on gossip, news, politics, and food.

Killing time again before her evening meal, she watches Youtube. Sometimes, I do encourage her to watch other content. Nanay is also a fan of volleyball. Before discovering Mahal, she watched volleyball matches of different leagues from Premier Volleyball League (PVL) and UAAP. One time, I recommended to her a match between France and Brazil in Volleyball Nation’s League (VNL). She spent her whole afternoon watching matches in VNL and Olympics after that. Her favorite women volleyball player is Alyssa Valdez. She watches her live matches on television during her UAAP era, even when she graduated and played in other leagues.

Nanay Corazon getting her blood pressure and sugar by Cristina, her daughter-in-law, who will determine if she needs Apidra and her meal for the night.

For her evening meal, one food was added to the group. Chicharap, a food from Chowking, together with daing na bangus, and the same soup from the afternoon, was her meal for the night. Every night, she takes three medicines. She eats in her room every night since it takes too much of her strength to go downstairs. I observed that her meal consists of the same food throughout the day. I asked if she was getting tired on eating the same meal every day and she said, “Wala akong choice eh, kailangan ayan ang mga kainin ko. Marami kasi akong bawal kainin.” She spent the rest of the night watching Youtube till she felt sleepy.

Nanay Corazon sitting at her arinola, or chamber pots, while watching the television in the evening.

One of Nanay’s hobbies is gambling. She plays the card game which they call “kuwaho”. Before the pandemic, they gamble most of the time. When they are on a roll, it continues up to 2-3 days, none of them having any sleep. Nanay switches with whoever is available in the family though, since she is too old. Playing “kuwaho” is normal in the family, even us kids know it. They taught us how to play in case no one is available to play now, or someone has an emergency.

Nanay also likes to travel. She often goes to Tagaytay to buy and eat food with the family. Before eating though, we pray in the Pink Sisters Convent. Sometimes, I think the sisters know her already.

Nanay Corazon watching television while eating her meal that consists of: daing na bangus, one cup of rice, soup, chicharap, and 3 medicines for the evening.

These are the two hobbies entertaining her before the pandemic. When the COVID-19 started and she was hospitalized, things drastically changed. Everything is limited for her. She has this schedule that needs to be followed every day. She cannot do the things she loved before anymore.

Nanay Corazon is just one of the millions of lives that suddenly changed because of the pandemic. Although she has no choice but to stick to her daily routine and drink 17 tablets per day, she said that she is still thankful that she is alive and healthy at 81 years old. “Nagpapasalamat ako sa Panginoon dahil wala na akong nararamdaman na sakit. Kahit ang dami kong iniinom na malalaking gamot, maigi na ito dahil para din naman sa akin.”

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renee-writer · 3 years

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Sisters Chapter 10

The afterbirth is delivered, which takes all of Tabitha's concentration. But not Oona's. She notices her mama's strange silence. A look towards her and they slip into the hall together.

"Mama what is it?"

"Oh my sweet daughter, I don't wish to tell you."

"You must, if it concerns Tabitha and our sister/daughter."

With shaken voice and falling tears, she tells her. Oona cradling her own coming child, stares at her. "They can't!"whispered in the hall where they most assuredly can. Eve just pulls her child close as they wait to see if Fallon will be brought back to her mama.

In the room, Tabitha is left with her own mama. "She is so beautiful, isn't she?" The excited new mama says.

"She is." Serena leans against the wall shaken. Tabitha finally notices.

"Mama, are you okay?"

"Oh Tabitha, oh my baby!" She must tell her. Oh Mother, how?

"Mama?"

"It is about Fallon."

"What about her?"

"She is here!" Oona is shaking with relief, and holds her sister/daughter close as she brings her to her mama.

"Oh my love! Come see mama. I bet you are hungry." Oona places their daughter in the arms of her love. She then weakly leans against her mama as the shakes continue to run through her. Eve holds her close with her other arm around Serena. They know they still need to tell her but decide it will be after she leaves this place. As she places Fallon on her breasts for the first time, from down the hall comes a cry of anguish. Serena quickly closes the door. The three in the know exchange a look. A pray is whispered in the depths of their soul for the lost sister/daughter and her mama.

"Oh look. She is such a good eater!"

Life is in this room. Death may be outside it but they are all blessed with Fallon and the new life she represents. An effort is made to fully focus on her and Tabitha. Oona walks over and sits beside them.

"Look at you sweet thing. Nursing so well. And my love. You are so beautiful." She softly kisses her and then the soft dark hair of her daughter.

"She was so worth every pain." Her mama hands softly stroke the incredible soft skin of her new daughter. "You will soon see." And the fear is back just that fast. Her baby will be subjected to the same tests. What if she doesn't pass? Her mama sees her swaying and hurries over and lifts her up.

"Tabitha, I am going to get Oona something to eat. We will be right back."

"Yes, take care of yourself darling." Oona recovers enough to reply.

"I will. I love you both."

"We love you."

Eve leads her into a bathroom, sits her down, wets a towel and wipes her face and neck down. She takes her hands and checks her pulse. "Mama, I can't lose my child. I can't!"

"You won't! Look at me baby." She lifts up her head and her fear filled eyes meet her. "I know. Those minutes waiting Fallon's return were the longest of your life. I promise, you won't have to experience them!"

"Mama but?"

She squeezes her hands. "I swear it. Have I ever lied to you?"

"No mama."

"I am not now. We've months. We will figure something out."

"I believe you."

"Good. Ready to return. I crave that newborn smell."

"Me too. Let's go."

They are released the next morning. The mama's and Tabitha have discussed when to tell her and whether to tell the other sisters. "We must tell Lovelyn, as I will need her help to deliver Oona's child." A home birth, that they will tell the authorities was an emergency, is planned to protect Sienna.

"Agree." Serena adds. "But the others, especially Oakley as she will be the next inseminated."

"Mother, you are right! How an I to protect them all?" They are talking together in the car as they await their daughters and granddaughter to come down.

"One at a time. You are not in this alone. We are family."

"Thank you." She hugs her as Oona appears with Tabitha and Fallon. The new mama and baby are helped into the car. Oona joins them and they head home.

The sisters are so excited at the sight of Fallon, especially Enya who had never had a younger sister. They all take turns holding the baby before Oona and Tabitha retire with her for a feeding and nap.

They give her a few days of peace before telling her. Fallon sleeps in her crib as Oona holds her love tight while her mama and Eve tell her what the nurse had told them.

"They would have killed her!" They can't deny it. "Holy f*ck!" Cursing is rare in this new society but sometimes allowed. Their is no doubt that this is one of those times.

"Yes." Oona agrees. "Lord was I ever scared."

"Sienna!" She calls out, her hand immediately comes out to protect her lover's baby bump.

"We've a plan." Eve goes over it.

"Good. But what about everyone else? My sisters, Oona's?"

"We are thinking on it." Serena answers.

"We must do something. They are killing our babies!" She calls out.

"We will my love. We will." Oona soothe. She looks at her mama and mama-in-law. They will. How is unknown but they are now all committed to seeing it right.

#my writing #my oc's #nano 2020 #sisters #day 10 #913

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francoiserenaldt · 4 years

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week three

last week | next week

warnings: several mentions of death, potentially triggering references to c****a, angst central, desirée is Bad At Feelings

word count: 1951

Sunday, August 17th, 2023 - Day 15 of quarantine

“Westchester County residents should be expected to shelter in place for at least 5 more weeks. Healthcare professionals are resigning by the hundreds as the disease spreads to nurses and doctors throughout the country. Over half of all patients that have tested positive for the Westchester Plague have either committed suicide or attempted to commit suicide. More at noon.”

“It only gets worse and worse every day,” Desirée frowns.

“Maybe we should take a break from the news for a while.” Andy turns the TV off and heads into the kitchen. “What do you want to eat?”

“Um…” Desirée could probably read him a numbered and alphabetized list of foods that she would ruin right about now, but she refrains. “What do we have?”

“Well, there’s some ramen in here…”

Not ideal, but it’ll have to do. They are in the middle of an epidemic, after all. “Awesome.”

So they eat chicken flavored ramen like a pair of broke college students while watching some old anime, which Andy adamantly rejects the second the words leave her lips (“Avatar: The Last Airbender is a cartoon, Desirée”), and she lets her mind wander.

Eventually, it arrives to Andy, as it seems to do more and more often these days. His name warms her skin like the sun on a late summer afternoon. His presence feels like the down comforter on her bed after a long day of work.

A small smile plays at her lips as she leans into the promise of an exciting summer and sweet dreams. It welcomes her with open arms and promises fond memories for years to come. But as soon as she goes to take it, she finds herself drenched in a raging storm.

While they polish off the last of their cups, a devastating truth hits her.

As lovely as their moment feels, its end is as inevitable as the bone-chilling winter or the start of a new day.

Monday, August 18th, 2023 - Day 16 of quarantine

“Did you want to give video games another try?” Andy asks tentatively. Then, like the infuriating bastard he is, he smirks. “I promise I’ll let you win.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Desirée retorts, donning a small smile.

“Don’t get too cocky or I’ll have to show you up.” Andy

After a tense round of Mortal Kombat, the TV screen flashes a victory. Andy slumps back, defeated.

“I...how…?”

“Lily and I used to play. I’m excellent at playing dumb, Andy,” Desirée smirks. “You know this about me.”

He shakes his head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“If you say so.” Desiree rolls her neck and stretches her arms. “Ready for round 2?”

Tuesday, August 19th, 2023 - Day 17 of quarantine

“Scientists have found that cutis dissolutitis, better known as the Westchester Plague, mutated from Bacillus subtilis, a bacteria species found in dirt that acts as a decomposer of organic materials. It was first found in a large forest area. The best way to protect against this epidemic is to cover all exposed skin when you’re outside and sanitize once you’re inside.” A disgruntled news anchor reports from the outside of a nondescript building. The only patch of visible skin is around his eyes, which are covered by transparent goggles.

Desirée gasps suddenly. “Oh my god, the woods. Andy, you don’t think that…”

He catches the implication. “There’s no way. Devon would never do this.”

“We never suspected that Jane...or Noah…” She shakes her head. “I just hope not.”

Wednesday, August 20th, 2023 - Day 18 of quarantine

The official body count is projected to be 100. Over 200 citizens in the county have reported testing positive for the virus and 400 more are showing symptoms. Ignoring the news at this point is just short of irresponsible, but fear keeps her from lingering on the headlines.

As the day winds to a close, a feeling of dread slowly infiltrates her mind. The thought of tomorrow makes her skin crawl. Her stomach inverts and reverts on a constant loop as she reads yet another headline about yet another person committing suicide to avoid the disease.

The sun sets and she’s overcome with a terrible truth. A subtle prick of worry that blossoms into a deep ache in her chest that she can’t quite place.

“Something terrible is going to happen tomorrow.” Desirée whispers aloud. She locks herself in the bathroom as she feels the omen leave her lips. Andy doesn’t need to hear this. “Something that will change everything we thought was true.”

Thursday, August 21st, 2023 - Day 19 of quarantine

They don’t bother changing out of their pajamas anymore.

An alert on her phone tells her that the death toll in Westchester County has climbed from 100 to 1,000 overnight. Westchester alone has lost a third of its population. Then, she gets the call.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dizzy,” Lily sniffles.

She knows that something is very wrong for two reasons. One, no one has called her Dizzy since her junior year in high school. Two, Lily is a notorious night owl and wouldn’t be caught out of bed before 9 in the morning if she had her way, let alone willingly engaging in human interaction. If she was calling at 8 AM, it had to be serious.

“Lily, is everything okay?” Desirée whispered as she tiptoed out of bed to avoid waking Andy.

“It’s my mom.” She sobs, and suddenly she can no longer hear the hum of the vents above her head or the whirring of her computer on the coffee table. “She has the plague.”

“Lily, how long has she had it?”

“I don’t know.” She sobs harder. “They’re queueing everyone on the block for testing.”

“Lily, it’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay,” Desirée whispers. The burning in her eyes and the constricting feeling in her throat tell her that she’s crying, too. “You’re going to be okay.”

She’s lying through her teeth and she knows it, but the words seem to offer Lily some comfort as she recites them back to her.

“I will be okay,” she chokes out. “Everything will be okay.”

“If you need anything at all…”

“I know who to call,” Lily replies. The line goes dead.

Desirée holds the phone to her chest and sends a silent prayer. It’s bad enough that you’ve taken a third of our town. Please don’t take Lily, too.

Silent tears stream down her cheeks as she prays over and over again.

Don’t take Lily.

It’s that exact moment that Andy wraps his arms around Desirée’s middle and buries his head in the crook of her neck. She’s suddenly overcome with guilt and shame as she turns to him with shining eyes.

“Andy, I-”

“Shhh.” He shakes his head and pulls her into his chest, blinking back tears of his own. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Soon, everyone knows. The news is bleaker than ever, with cameras being shoved into the grieving families of the victims and the death toll climbing by the hour. As the day crawls to an end and she lays in Andy’s arms, one thing becomes astoundingly apparent.

Life will never be the same again.

Friday, August 22nd, 2023 - Day 20 of quarantine

It becomes physically unbearable to look at the news. Desirée briefly considers letting Andy unplug the TV again.

No one takes the news of Lily’s mother well, but Ava seems to struggle with it the most. She refuses to answer phone calls from anyone and only replies in short, but extremely worrying sentences.

“I wish this wasn’t going on so that I could check on her.” Desirée sighs after a fifth “missed” call. She’s curled up on the living room sofa with her head hanging on the arm. Her eyes are shut tight. “But here we are.”

“She’s never really been the emotional type, Rée.”

“That’s why I’m so worried about her. If she’s shutting down this early, what’s she gonna do if Mrs. Ortiz doesn’t make it?”

“I don’t know, but I think what Ava needs right now is space.”

“Andy, I can’t just let her spiral.” She sits up at this, frowning.

“I know it’s hard to see her like this, but you can’t protect everyone.”

“I know I can’t. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that.” Desirée whispers. “But I can help.”

“What happened with Devon wasn’t your fault, Desirée. The only person you should blame is-”

“Don’t.”

“The point I’m making is that you don’t always have to be everyone’s person.” Andy stares deeply into her eyes. For a second, it feels as if he’s seeing her every flaw, every imperfection she’s buried deep into her heart and mind, every secret she’s ever kept and maybe even the ones she didn’t. For the longest second, it feels as if he’s peering into her soul and reading it with the ease of a picture book and she’s helpless to turn away and shut him out despite the fact that she desperately wants to. “You’re always so focused on being there for everyone else, but who’s going to be there for you?”

You. She almost whispers. It’s always been you.

“A therapist.” She replies instead, forcing a small smile. “And a bottle of wine.”

“Take care of yourself.” Andy squeezes her shoulders once and turns for the bedroom. “Let someone else be there for you once in a while.”

“Someone else like who?”

“I don’t think either one of us is ready for that conversation.”

“You sure?” Desirée retorts, suddenly emboldened. She’s not the only mind reader between them and she’ll be damned if Andy Kang gets to leave her wondering like every night before. “Because I feel plenty ready to talk. If you’re scared of going there, just say that.”

“Who’s scared?” Andy turns back around, staring her down. She holds her own, meeting his gaze head on. “I’ll go there if that’s what you want.”

“Hey, don’t hold back on my account. If you want to say something, I’m all ears.”

“Could you handle that?” He walks slowly toward her as he speaks, sizing her up. “Could you handle it if I told you that I wish you’d stop trying to play tough all the time and open up to me like you used to? That I wish we’d just quit this dance where we pretend we’re still not in love with each other?” Her breath catches and his face is inches away from hers, so much so that she can feel his breath on her cheeks. “Could you even function knowing that?”

“I could. You know why?” She finally responds, placing her hand directly onto his chest. “Nothing is the way it used to be, Andy. We’re not the way we used to be when this started and we’ll never be those people again. So I suggest…” She tilts her head upwards and brushes her lips against his chin. “...you make peace with that.”

She lets him meditate on her words as she heads toward the bedroom and into the conjoined bathroom, where she finally lets her face rest in her hands as she cries.

Saturday, August 23, 2023 - Day 21 of quarantine

They don’t speak for most of the day.

“I probably should’ve told you this earlier,” Desirée tells Andy during the evening. They’ve just eaten dinner. “But everything that happened on Thursday...I felt it.”

“You...what?”

“I’d just been feeling horrible all day and I thought my anxiety was just acting up, but then I just felt this ache in my chest and I knew something awful was going to happen.”

“What did it feel like?”

“Death.” She inhales a shaky breath before nodding resolutely. “It felt like death.”

#something gained #mc: desiree ashton #li: andy kang #ship: desiree x andy

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7deadlycinderellas · 4 years

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The Starks at War, 1941 part 2

AO3 link

(who knew all I needed was something called the “Abandoned WIP challenge to finish another chapter of this?)

Arya doesn’t stop shaking the whole way home, through to the next day. Asha accompanies her, sympathetic, but distant. The bus ride is hell.

When Arya walks through the front door, Jojen and Bran are playing cards, but stop immediately to look at her.

“Arya-” Bran starts, stuttering, “Mother?”

Arya feels a sob choke out, then get stuck halfway.

“How did you know?” Asha asks.

“Radio,” Bran says, pointing at the wireless set by the front window, “It said that the Germans hit a military hospital- the one we knew you were going to.” His voice suddenly becomes thick, and Arya realizes he sounds double his newly fifteen years.

“We were scared, we thought it might be both of you.”

Arya slumps down in her chair.

“It was stupid, really,” Jojen comments, “painting crosses on the roofs of all the hospitals. Just gave them something to aim at.”

“If half the stories out of France are true, it is our error to expect any kind of fair play from Nazis.”

Arya feels like she can barely move.

After a time, Asha stands to leave.

“I’ll spend the night at the inn and leave in the morning.”

She leans down to clap Arya on the shoulder.”

“You know where to reach me.”

Once Asha leaves, Arya slumps and clutches her face in her hands.

“I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it,” is all she can whisper to herself.

Autumn begins to turn over the coming weeks. Arya sleepwalks into it. Gilly ends up being the one who goes to the church to report. There are no remains to bury.

Sansa calls multiple times a week.

She keeps asking if they need her to come home. They all push her off. Winterfell isn’t home as it was, and they won’t bring her back if she is needed elsewhere.

She’s begun to settle in in London. The flat she shares with Margaery is tiny, just a bedroom and kitchen. The two beds they’ve managed to drag in barely have enough room between them to walk.The walls are papered, but it’s fading and peeling. The heating doesn’t always work, what with the coal shortages. Often at night, the two of them simply pull on all of their clothes before crawling into bed.

The tenement building’s shelter is outside. When the air raid sirens bellow, they have to shove on their slippers, grab their masks and barrel down the stairs among the other flat-dwellers. Praying that all they will hear is the sirens and not the whine of an incendiary or the gait shattering boom of an explosion before they manage to cram themselves inside.

Sansa’s begun adjusting to the work as well. She spends all day in the tiny gray office, editing and retyping papers, sometimes helping Margaery do translations. Sometimes, even work is interrupted by air raids.

She can’t stop thinking of what Catelyn would have said to see her now. With her short cut hair and simple office clothes, she looks nothing like the debutante she dreamed of being. This was not a world her or her mother would have even thought to be part of.

She’s good with idioms, her supervisor notes, so at least she can take pride in that. She was always good at French in school, longing one day to go there, to see the sights and the glamor for herself.

One night when they’re at home, eating some cobbled together vegetable medley, cooked in a pan, Margaery comments,

“I think I’m going to cut my hair. I’m sick of having to set the whole mess at night.”

Sansa nods. She had been surprised when watching Margaery do her hair the first time, to see how hard she worked to make it perfect. Without the curlers at night, one side would curl up perfectly, and the other would hang straight pin straight, stretched out by its length.

“They do say long hair is terribly old-fashioned.”

Margaery sighs when it’s finished, touching the ends as though she can’t believe it’s gone. But now the sides curl properly, and she won’t have to do anything but wash it and wrap it all up before bed.

“My mother used to put it up for me when I was little, the way she did when she went out,” she comments idly.

“You never told me what happened to your mother,” Sansa tells her, suddenly keenly feeling her own loss that she’s spent so much time shoving down deep inside.

“She died of the flu- not the big one, just the usual one- when I was ten. My father was never the same after that. I’m not sure any of us were.”

Sansa is quiet. She understands really. She’s almost appreciative that she hadn’t been at home most of this entire past year. She can’t imagine how her mother must have taken her father’s death. While the pair had never been the most demonstrative of their affections, their children were very secure in the fact that the two had loved each other, and that not all married couples were as lucky.

Margaery glances down at herself.

“She always wanted the best for me. Nothing specific, just that I would be happy and the best person I could be. She was the only one I think. Everyone else has their own ideas about who I am and exactly what I should aim for.”

“What do you want to do? What would make you happy?”

Margaery’s expression is pensieve.

“I wish I’d applied to go to university. I’d like to study political science. I’d like a proper little flat, near a park, one that’s not been bombed. Maybe I’ll marry, but only if I meet someone I want to. Maybe I will when the war is over.“

It has been strange, Sansa thinks, leaving school behind and seeing Margaery for who she really was. She had always thought they were friends, but here she’s stripped bare. She’s not a prefect, or head of the French club, or the beautiful polished girl Sansa had idolized. Here she chips her nails and ladders her stockings and forgets her hat just like everyone else.

That doesn’t mean Sansa doesn’t still look up to her though. She fits right in at the office, even with most of the others being London born girls who left school at fourteen and knew they would end up working if they didn’t marry. Many of them were pleased to work in an office, rather than in a factory, or worse, in service. Sansa sometimes feels tongue tied around them, and not just because the Starks have always had a few people employed in service.

Before October, both of them get letters inviting them for an interview with the same Baelish that Margaery had said recognized Sansa’s name. The instructions have them both come to a tiny, bare bones hotel room during lunch hour. Sansa’s stomach grumbles while she’s outside waiting for Margaery to finish her turn. Her stomach is not eased by her own interview.

Petyr Baelish isn’t a tall man. Sansa’s used to looking most grown men in the eye, and finds that when he stands, she’s actually looking more at his hairline. He has dark hair, going somewhat gray, a neat mustache and an overall aura of having everything under his control.

He asks her dozens of questions, some of which she doesn’t even understand. But by the time it’s done, she has a job offer.

And a new, horrifying, realization, about the nature of the office where she’s been working.

Her and Margaery both, are, on paper, enlisted in the FANY, the First Aid Nursing Yeomanry. In practice, they were brought aboard the organization that became known as SOE for secret operations, and being sent to Scotland for their training.

Sansa cringes at the slightest thought of what her mother would say. But her mother is dead now, and this gives her the slightest hope for vengeance. Vengeance. That was one of those words so beloved in those awful twopenny comics Arya and Bran devoured.

It doesn’t take long before she wonders what on earth she was thinking by accepting.

Even reaching the training school is rough. The terrain in Scotland is difficult. By the time they reach the facility, they are all exhausted, hungry, soaked through with rain and covered in scratches. And when they reach it, the real fun begins.

Sansa never once in her life thought she would someday learn to shoot a gun, or disarm a man, or be required to carry a suicide pill. These skills are not second nature to her, so she has to work at it. When her eyes threaten to prick full of tears and her throat threatens to close up, she thinks of her mother’s face, dead now for no reason, and no one coming to save her, or Sansa or anyone. No one is coming to save them.

She learns to parrot back the goal they are told. To resist the enemy by any means necessary. There aren’t a great many women in training with them, but there are far more than Sansa would have expected. Too many in England have lost loved ones in this war. Too many have seen their homes destroyed.

Learning telegraphy and morse code are much easier, even if they are still totally foreign skills for her. She goes back through Arya’s letters, remembering her speaking of learning these things for Girl Guides. These at least, don’t make the bile rise in the back of Sansa’s throat at even the thought of using them.

One night, she sits on the end of her bed and puts her head in her hands. Margaery has the bunk above her. There are bunks here, it’s like being back at school again.

“What’s wrong?”

Sansa’s shoulders slump as she responds.

“All I can think is how much my younger sister would prefer learning all of this than me. She always loved science fiction and pulp magazines and those awful two-penny adventure comics. And when I called home last, she sounded so angry...she needs to feel like she’s contributing as much as us, but she can’t. She’s sixteen, she’s tiny and she’s stuck at home still.”

Margaery frowns, deep in thought.

“Your sister Arya...you said she’s only sixteen?”

Sansa nods.

“She’ll be seventeen at the beginning of next year.”

“Then let her be a child if she can still, we don’t know how long this war will last. Besides, from your stories, she always sounded like such an impulsive and ill-refined girl.”

Sansa sniffs. Her stories had always been terribly unfair to Arya. She might still prefer running about outside, but she hadn’t thrown a tantrum in ages, and the shouting and even the insults were a thing of the long past. They might never have been as close as sisters in Jane Austen novels, but they hadn’t fought each other in so long.

Except when they did.

“She is.”

Margaery smiles, and plays with one of her gloves.

“Know why Baelish had been head-hunting us?”

Sansa shakes her head.

“Because aristocratic women are good at a great deal more than picking out dresses and fixing their hair. We know manners, and pick up rules of etiquette with ease. We are good at talking to people and getting them to tell us things. And we are excellent at keeping up appearances under pressure.”

Sansa nods, and tries to put on her face.

And it is very easy to see why Margaery was selected. Her French is perfect and she has a great deal of knowledge of French geography, culture and fashion. Information that it turns out, Sansa has picked up quite easily having hung on Margaery’s words when she was just the glamorous school prefect.

And it’s so much easier to keep her face on in the dorms than out in the training field with a weapon in her hands.

One of the instructor’s compliments Sansa on her accent.

“A bit breathy, true, but the disguise of an excited young girl can be very handy. Very few would doubt the intentions of one.”

When the both of them get near to finishing training, Baelish’s assessment claims they would both make excellent radio operators. Even Sansa’s not naive enough to believe that’s a safe occupation, like Baelish insists. Mum had seemed fond enough of him, but Sansa doesn’t trust something in his gaze.

This is what sticks in Sansa’s mind as Margaery and her are sent off to parachute school. The first day of training, she stares out the window and wishes she were more like Arya.

That same day, Arya gets the telegram.

The months since Mother had died were hell. Arya has kept up with the girl guides when she could. She helps out with the WVS, who seems nearly as lost without Catelyn as she does. She helps Bran stumble through the paperwork needed to keep the family affairs in order. She tries to help Gilly with little Sam and Weasel.

She writes Gendry whenever she can. His letters are always so sweet, so understanding, but he can’t write often. And she doesn’t know if her own letters actually capture even half of what she feels.

He writes that he wishes he could come see her, but the Navy is stingy with leave, and when he gets a day, he’s stationed too far away to make the train ride south in the time given. Sometimes, selfishly, Arya wishes she could ask him to come anyway, but she can’t. She won’t get him in trouble because of her.

The day the telegram comes, she’s about to burst as it is. It’s only a few days after America has entered the war, wrapping her mind around that was hard enough.

She’s in the kitchen, staring at the paper when the others trickle in for lunch.

Bran notices first, Arya’s stony white face.

“What now?” he asks.

Arya’s hands are holding the card still, but her fingers are shaking.

“It’s Robb,” her voice says, low, dead. “His plane was shot down over France. They have no idea what’s become of him.”

Without meeting his eye, she hands the telegram to Bran, puts her hands on the table. Then she lays her face down on top of them and cries.

None of them could have known what was going down in France at the moment.

Robb was a competent pilot. He wasn’t a natural like Jon was, but he was good enough. This was very little comfort when his plane was currently on fire and quickly losing altitude.

He tried to radio out assistance, but the controls are dead. Robb’s head is throbbing from where it slammed against the inside of the cockpit and he can hardly think. It’s only through sheer luck that he manages to get his parachute on and leap from the rapidly descending plane and pray as he bails out for the ground.

The air rushes around him for only a split second it seems before he collides with the ground so hard that it feels like he’s being manhandled. He thinks he hears something crack, but he can’t stop to think. All he sees is blurs, all he hears is ringing and all he smells is blood and smoke. He tries to stand and run, but his body isn’t listening.

Eventually, one of those blurs comes closer, and grabs him, by the arm, pulling roughly. His legs screech in protest, his lungs wail, but it keeps pulling, and eventually the world begins to return to him.

The figure pulling him, he eventually sees is a woman. Young, perhaps in her twenties, with dark hair. She wears a heavy, dark green coat and her footsteps are heavy.

Eventually, the image of a barn comes into sight. The woman pulling him stops, moves something, and the next that Robbs knows, he’s being shoved into what seems like a hole in the ground.

“Stay quiet. Don’t make a sound until I come back for you. Not a single word, or you’re dead.”

Robb tries to stop himself from blacking out, but he doesn’t succeed.

When he comes to, he takes inventory of his surroundings. Dirt, a lot of dirt. A couple of what look like potatoes in one corner. A root cellar, most likely. The inhales and all he can smell is dirt too. His leg is on fire, and much of his skin is too. He fears when he wakes up fully, the pain will be so bad it makes him pass out again.

He can hear people outside, somewhere, faintly. He follows the woman’s advice and pretends he’s dead. He hears planes overhead, and gunfire too. He hopes his squadmates are alright.

Robb’s not sure how long it is before the cellar door cracks open and he jumps, squawking in pain, but the woman from before pulls him out again and leads him to the farmhouse.

“I told them where I saw your plane go down. I told them I saw it on fire and was worried about the trees in the wood. I didn’t say anything about your chute, I burned it in the hearth.”

After she leads him in and lays him upon a wooden chair, she retrieves a glass and tells him to drink the liquid inside. It’s bitter, and he sputters, but she pushes it to his lips again, and after that, he fades in and out.

When he finally wakes, there’s the sound of a kettle whistling.

“Not real tea, I’m afraid, but dried mint is good enough to pretend.”

She sits across from him. Even still in pain, Robb can’t help but notice that she’s lovely. He sips the mint tea and tries not to choke.

When he finally gathers the mindfulness to speak, he picks his first question carefully.

“What’s your name?”

The woman sighs, before taking her own cup and sitting in the other chair.

“Talisa.”

“Talisa,” he says, feeling the name on his tongue, “I’m Robb.”

“I suppose we should use each other’s Christian names, given we’re going to be stuck here together for at least six weeks” she admits. Then she gestures at Robb’s leg, which she has immobilized with splints and thick rolls of bandage cloth. “Don’t try and move. I couldn’t set a proper cast, but I did my best. Don’t ruin all my hard work.” Dimly, Robb realizes he is covered in cuts that are also bandaged.

Robb is flush with gratitude.

“Thank you,” he says. He examines her bandaging. “Are you a nurse?”

Talisa nods.

“I was going to be, before-” she waves her arm out, “All of this.”

Robb glances around the farmhouse, and realizes the place is empty, but has the signs of other people having lived here before. Four chairs around the table, more cups than one person would need.

“Do you live here by yourself?”

Talisa nods, sadly.

“My father died when I was young, of a fever. I was born in Guernica. When Franco bombed it, me, my mother and my brother escaped and fled here. My father was French, so getting asylum was easier.”

“Guernica,” Robb muses, rolling the word around in his mouth, wondering where he’s heard it. “That’s in Spain right?”

Talisa purses her lips before answering.

“I guess it was too much to expect England to have reported too much on our own little war. But yes, Guernica is in Spain. The three of us came here and worked this farm. Then the Germans came. It had barely been three years. Seems like such a little time of peace.”

She turns away, and Robb chooses not to press her.

“Once your leg heals enough, I’ll pass you off to the resistance, and they can see about getting you home.”

“The German’s won’t get suspicious of you?” Robb asks. He doesn’t want to bring any trouble to her.

“That’s no matter,” she insists, “It’s not like you can go anywhere on your own, and anything I can do to be a thorn in the side of the Third Reich, the better.”

Talisa drains her cup at this point, pushing it back down against the table, and briefly shuts her eyes.

“It’s probably not good to admit, but I am happy that at least I’ll have someone here to talk to this Christmas.”

Christmas, Robb thinks. He hadn’t even realized.

Christmas 1941 is hellish for his own family.

Jon can barely eat any of the Christmas dinner the servicemen are given. It feels like ashes in his gut.

Sansa is given a break over Christmas, but the next day is when they’re supposed to be given their first parachute lessons. She cries herself to sleep, in fear. Fear for herself, fear for her brother. In her more fanciful moments, she imagines parachuting into France and one day bumping into him on the street. Perhaps he’d lost his memory, she wonders, her mind a Hollywood fantasy.

Arya and Bran are still at Winterfell.

Bran is overwhelmed. The work that has been left in his lap threatens to consume him, even as he had wished so hard to be useful.

Arya feels nearly dead inside.

The past two Christmases without Robb and Jon had been bad enough, but at least there were his letters. Now she can’t read them without wondering if they’re the last she will ever receive.

On Christmas Eve, no tree, no lights, no Christmas dinner, Arya stares out her bedroom window. Father, Mother, Robb gone. Jon, Sansa and Gendry far too far away. Bran overwhelmed, even Gilly, Sam and Weasel ash-faced.

They see Rickon so little it’s as though he’s slipped away.

It hardly feels like Christmas at all.

Maybe it would be better if she weren’t here too. One less mouth to poorly feed.

She leaves her bicycle, and her books. She takes Gendry’s letters, and she wonders if she’ll be able to receive any more of them.

The day Arya turns seventeen, she calls Asha Greyjoy, asking if her offer still stands.

#game of thrones #A Song of Ice and Fire #fic #ww2 au

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broadwaybaggins · 4 years

Note

"Language, Jedediah!" Mary exclaimed, her expression halfway between aghast and hilariously amused. First sentence fic prompt.

This is so not five sentences...and I also put your sentence in the body of the fic and not at the beginning. But I hope you like it anyway! There will be a follow-up chapter as well!

March 1868

They had been on their way to dinner when Jed had suddenly stopped short, his eyes widening.

“Fritz?”

His voice was suddenly far louder than Mary deemed necessary. The sound seemed to echo for a moment in the chilly air as he blinked in disbelief, as if he thought that his eyes were playing tricks on him.

Luckily, no one else on the bustling New York streets--so vastly different from Alexandria or even Boston, and yet somehow exactly the same--seemed to take any notice of Jed’s outburst. As Mary stopped in her tracks, wondering what in the world had possessed him, Jed looked sidelong at her for a moment. A childish grin that Mary knew far too well by now was playing at the corners of his mouth. “It can’t be,” he murmured, staring ahead into the crowd.

“Who can’t be, Jed? Or...what?” Mary added almost as an afterthought, looking around in confusion. She was fairly certain she’d never heard Jed say that name in her life.

“Apologies, Baroness,” he said by way of explanation, and Mary couldn’t help but roll her eyes. He only trotted out that old nickname on very rare occasions these days, often right before he was about to do something that Mary would surely object to.

“For what?” she asked with growing trepidation.

“For this.” He released his gentle hold on Mary's arm, and raised both of his hands up to his face, cupping them around his mouth, and just as Mary realized what was about to happen (and was preparing to warn him off of it) his voice let loose, a child hollering for his friend across the schoolyard.

“That cannot be old Fritz Bhaer!”

Mary braced for embarrassment, her entire body tensing, and prayed for strength.This time, everyone on the street did hear, and Mary’s cheeks flamed as over twenty heads in their immediate vicinity turned to look at them--including, up ahead of them, the object of Jed’s attention in the first place, and the man’s companion as well.

Mary watched as the two, a man and a woman turned in tandem, and as they did she caught sight of identical curious expressions. The man was tall with thick, dark hair and a rather rumpled appearance--he wore no hat, despite social conventions and the brisk wind of a New York spring. His eyes were also dark, Mary could tell even at a distance--just as she could see the moment that confusion faded and recognition dawned.

“Jedediah!” he called delightedly. He hastened towards them, his companion following close behind. “Or Doctor Foster, I should say now, I suppose!” Mary’s eyes widened in surprise at his German accent, the cadence achingly familiar to her even though she had never met this man before in her life.

Jed, however, quite clearly had. The two strangers had reached them now, and Mary watched as Jed and the other man shook hands with gusto, wide grins brightening both their faces. Jed’s free hand pounded him lightly twice on the back. The man’s companion hung back slightly, near the pair but not quite with them, although the look on her face betrayed her clear bemusement at this turn of events. “I can’t believe it!” Jed cried. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Jed!” Mary hissed.

“I might ask thee the same question! We are both far from home, it seems…” the younger man’s eyes sparkled with mirth and affection as he looked at Jed.

“Some of us further than others. I didn’t have to cross a damned ocean to get here, Fritz.”

“Language, Jedediah!” Mary exclaimed, her expression halfway between aghast and hilariously amused. It was the first real thing that she had said since this strange encounter began, and while she wished she could have made a better first impression, Jed hadn’t exactly given her much of a choice in the matter.

He jumped, seeming to remember that she was there. Mary was so amused and curious that she forgot to be offended. “Of course! Look at me, forgetting that introductions are in order. Mary, this is Friedrich Bhaer. I stayed with his family while I was studying in Germany. Fritz, this is Mary--” he paused for effect, clearly relishing his next words-- “my wife.”

Mary held her breath as she waited for Mr. Bhaer’s reaction. He and Jed were clearly close, or at least they had been once. Was it possible that the two had stayed in touch? How much did Mr. Bhaer know about Eliza, the divorce, all of it? How much could she bear for him to know? Mary watched his face carefully, looking for a flicker of recognition, an arch of an eyebrow in curiosity or judgment, a grimace or a look of disdain or shock…

She resisted the anxious urge to reach up and toy with the black velvet ribbon she wore around her neck. She forced herself to keep her hands at her sides, telling herself that it would be all right, whatever reaction the man had. It’s not as if she was unused to gossip, after all…

But Mr. Bhaer’s smile never faltered--in fact, he seemed even more pleased than ever by Jed’s words. “How wonderful! It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Foster.”

Mrs. Foster. Even after all this time, nearly five years of marriage, it was still a thrill to hear herself addressed this way...almost as much of a thrill as it was to hear Jed call her his wife. Mary finally allowed herself to relax, and she returned Mr. Bhaer’s smile. “The pleasure is mine, Mr. Bhaer,” she replied, holding out her hand. As he took it, she added in what she hoped was correct German, “Please forgive my husband for not mentioning you before now.”

Mr. Bhaer’s grin, if possible, became even wider. “Sie spricht Deutsch!”

Mary chuckled. “Yes, but I am quite out of practice, I’m afraid, so you’ll have to forgive any errors.”

“But first,” Jed said softly, tilting his head in the direction of the fourth member of their little party. The young woman had begun to shift from foot to foot, although out of a feeling of awkwardness at being left out or impatience at her own lack of introduction, Mary could not say. She thought she saw Mr. Bhaer’s cheeks turn faintly pink with embarrassment, although it may have simply been the cold.

“Oh! Of course! Meine Manierien, wo sind sie? Jed, Mrs. Foster, this is Miss Josephine March.”

Mary allowed herself to study the young woman more closely as she stepped forward. She was young, early twenties perhaps, but no older. She was tall as well, with intelligent, curious eyes that met Mary’s without a hint of shyness. “Pleased to meet you both,” Miss March said, offering her hand to Mary to shake first. Her grip was strong and sure, and Mary decided that she liked her immediately.

Miss March shook Jed’s hand as well, and then glanced at Mr. Bhaer. “I hate to break up such a lovely reunion. We were just on our way to get something to eat--perhaps you and Mrs. Foster would like to join us?” She grinned suddenly “Anything to get out of this brutal wind. The two of you can catch up more inside.”

“That sounds like a capital idea,” Jed agreed immediately. The young woman grinned brightly at his words, although Mary wasn’t quite sure why. “We were also on our way to dinner. I know a place that a friend recommended. Shall we?”

It was agreed, and the four of them set off, trying to catch up as best they could with the wind howling in their ears and the crowd around them. They found themselves in a cozy restaurant just as the first flakes of spring snow began to fall. Once orders had been taken, Mr. Bhaer asked them what had brought the pair of them to New York, and Mary explained that Jed was doing a lecture at the New York University College of Medicine in the morning.

“Excellent! A lecture about what, may I inquire?”

“Our work during the war,” Jed said, sounding somehow weary and fond at the same time. “We met at a Union hospital in Alexandria.”

“You worked at a hospital?” Miss March asked, her keen eyes looking at Mary with new interest. “As a nurse?”

Mary smiled and nodded. “Yes, I was the Head Nurse, for a time. Under the guidance of Dorothea Dix.”

“That’s amazing! The nurses did such important work during the war. My father was with the Army for a time, and when he got sick, it was dreadful. My mother went to Washington to help care for him, but they both had such wonderful things to say about the nurses that were at his hospital. He wouldn’t be here without them, that’s what my father said.”

“I’m glad to hear that your father is still alive and well,” Jed told the young woman kindly. “Which reminds me, I was so sorry to hear about your sister.” His eyes turned slightly sad, trained as they were on Friedrich. Beside her, Mary thought she saw Miss March’s posture stiffen. “I didn’t hear the news until some time later, I’m afraid, but I was sorry to hear of it. She was a remarkable young woman.”

Friedrich sighed, looking down into his cup for a moment. “There is not a day that goes by that I do not miss Minna. But she left me two dear nephews, so sometimes it is like she is not so far away.”

Deciding that the conversation had become too personal, Mary decided to let the two men reminisce and catch up and turned to the youngest member of the party. Miss March had been occupying herself with playing with a loose thread on her cuff, but she looked up when she felt Mary’s gaze. “We may have created a monster,” Mary joked gently. “I fear that now that they’ve started talking, they may never stop. It’s rare to see Jed so...animated.”

“Same with the Professor,” Miss March agreed readily. “I was beginning to think he didn’t have any friends outside Mrs. Kirke’s boardinghouse.”

“Is that where the two of you met?”

Miss March nodded. “We live there, although he’s been there much longer than I have. He’s seeing to the education of his nephews, and putting some of his own studies on hold. I’ve recently taken on a job as tutor to Mrs. Kirke’s daughters. They’re quite sweet, and New York is fascinating, but I do miss home sometimes.”

“Where is home for you?”

“Concord, Massachusetts,” Miss March answered. Mary blinked in surprise, about to comment, but the young woman kept speaking. “My elder sister Meg recently got married, you see, and my youngest sister is off in Europe with our aunt, and I...I decided that it was time for me to see some of the world as well. It was the perfect time to make a change.”

“Why was that?” Mary asked, more curious than ever.

Miss March opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again as if thinking better of it. “I don’t want to bore you. We’ve only just met.”

“Miss March, believe me when I say that my husband can talk for hours with your Professor. We have all the time in the world for you to tell me your story.”

#also thanks mercurygray for betaing this for me!#drabble prompt #jomiddlemarch #Mercy Street #Mercy street crossover #Jo March #Mary Phinney #Jed Foster #Friedrich Bhaer

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alwaysahiccupandastrid · 5 years

Text

Nuffink (or: “How Nuffink Got His Name”)

When their second child is born, it doesn’t all go as it should - something goes wrong. Astrid is left weak and sick, having lost a lot of blood due to complications during the delivery. The baby is a healthy boy, Gods be good, but Hiccup can’t focus on that because of the fact his wife is lying in bed, dying as a fever overtakes her; he has never seen Astrid look so ill, so unlike her usual strong self. Their daughter is kept away from the house, staying with her Nanna Valka whilst her father worries and withdraws; even at two-and-a-half, Zephyr finds herself worrying too - about her mummy and daddy, about the new baby.

Hiccup finds himself praying to the Gods, begging that they do not take Astrid from him; he has already lost his father, his best friend...he cannot lose her too. He knows that he will be lost without her by his side, without her smiles, her intelligence, her bravery, her support. He doesn’t want to live in a world that does not have Astrid in it. He sits by her side all day and all night, hoping that she will get better - she has to. His council - Snotlout, Tuffnut, Ruffnut, Fishlegs, Eret, Gobber, his mother - all band together and do their best to take over his Chief duties for the time being, they alone being the few who know exactly what is wrong. The rest of New Berk knows something is wrong but can only rumor and whisper as they wait for the Chief to tell them himself.

Gothi visits regularly over the following few days, doing everything possible to get Astrid better. No method or medicine is overlooked - there are herbs, mixtures, practices she tries, and everyone waits with bated breath for something (anything) to work. She also checks over the baby in the meantime, confirming that he is indeed a healthy and strong boy, if a little on the small side from being early.

After three and a half days of worrying, of sleepless nights, of praying diligently, Astrid wakes. She’s weak and exhausted, but she smiles at the sight of her husband, laughing quietly when he clutches her to him. “Not getting rid of me that easy,” she jokes. He’s so relieved that he can’t help but laugh too, tears streaming down his face.

When Astrid is strong enough to sit up, they bring the baby to her to nurse; some of the midwives hesitate and suggest that maybe she should take it easy, that one of the other mothers in the village do it instead. Astrid merely rolls her eyes and brings the babe to her breast pointedly. She is then quiet and astounded by the baby boy, running a finger over the tufts of blonde hair so like her own, and she loves him so much so fast. Hiccup is slightly sheepish that he hasn’t seen the baby much in the last few days, but all of that falls away when he sits by his wife’s side and gazes at their son in awe. He has never had his breath taken away like this, except for when their daughter came into the world and changed his life just two and a half years previously.

Zephyr is finally allowed to visit too, now that Astrid is better, and she is impatient to meet her new baby brother. She checks for herself first that her mother is okay, reassuring herself as she cuddles up with Astrid, and then her brother is brought into the room. She grows very quiet, wide-eyed as she peers at the bundle her father holds in his arms.

“Small,” She says finally, voice a mere whisper, and then, “Love baby brother.”

The family sit there for some time as the baby fusses, wanting a feed and screwing up his face until he gets it. When he’s settled, Hiccup realizes something.

“You know, we haven’t got a name for him yet,” He states. “Got any ideas?”

Astrid shrugs and frowns, unsure herself. ‘Stoick’ - the name they had decided on should the baby be a boy - doesn’t really fit their small, blonde son, and they both know it.

Half-joking, Hiccup turns to their daughter and picks her up before putting her in his lap; she giggles at him. “What about you, little lady? Got any ideas?”

Zephyr shrugs too, not really concerned. “Nothing,” she says, though it comes out as “Nuffink”, because of her lisp.

Both of her parents laugh quietly and fondly at this. Encouraged, she giggles again. “Nuffink!”

“Call the baby, ‘Nothing’,” Hiccup jokes, deadpan, and he shakes his head in amusement when she nods. “We can’t call your brother ‘Nothing’, Zeph.”

“Nuffink,” She says again happily, looking at her brother. Neither of her parents take this seriously, still laughing between themselves when Valka comes to collect Zephyr for the night, just to give them both some more time to adjust to the new baby.

As Valka carries Zephyr through the village, they’re approached by the former dragon riders, who dote on her at sight. Zephyr revels in this attention, particularly when Snotlout puts her on his shoulders and lets her steal his helmet.

“So?” Tuffnut asks expectantly. “What’re they calling him?”

“Baby,” Zephyr says before Valka can explain there’s no name yet, and the little girl beams with excitement. “Nuffink! Baby Nuffink!”

She giggles at her own joke, and the adults are all amused. After a moment, Tuffnut muses “Heh, Nuff-ink. Hey, that’s actually a good name!”

Ruffnut nods in agreement. “Yeah - he could be one of us, Tuff!”

It becomes a running joke by the next morning; whenever anyone asks what the Chief’s new baby is called, someone replies “Nuffink, according to young Zephyr”. It spreads through the village like wildfire.

Hiccup goes to greet their friends in the morning, only to find himself face to face with several people eager to see “Nuffink”. For a moment he’s confused - and then he realizes and is astounded. “That’s...That’s not his actual name.”

“Yeah it is,” Snotlout informs him. “Zeph said so.”

Hiccup tries to convince his friends that his newborn son is not in fact called “Nuffink”, but his friends don’t listen.

“Zeph’s next in line, right?” Tuffnut reminds him. “Whatever she says goes.”

It shouldn’t surprise him that his friends take orders from his two year old daughter more than they do him, it really shouldn’t.

“It’s not his name,” Hiccup insists, mostly because he knows Astrid will murder him if he doesn’t make this clear.

“Then what name did you pick for him?”

“Well...Nothing ye-“

“So it IS Nuffink!” Tuffnut interrupts triumphantly.

“It is NOT-“

But they’re all talking over him. Hiccup deflates, sighing as he turns to go back into the house. He is not looking forward to explaining this to Astrid. In truth, they still haven’t been able to come up with any other names, and they can’t keep calling their son “the baby” forever.

And so it sort of just starts to stick.

“Nuffink!” Zephyr cries when she comes to see him again, excited and laughing happily.

“Nuffink is so cute!” Fishlegs gushes when he comes over that afternoon, unable to contain himself.

“Aww, lil Nuff is sleeping,” Tuffnut says to his twin.

Ruffnut nods in agreement. “Hey, we should make him an honorary -nut - Nuffnut!”

Astrid nearly throws them both out of the house right then and there.

Unfortunately, it starts to catch on with everyone else too. Gobber visits with a small toy hammer, exclaiming he’s excited to see little Nuffink. Eret visits with gifts too, and when he’s allowed to hold the baby he grins. “He’s a chip off the old block, Hiccup - Nuffink will do us all proud.”

Even Valka starts calling him that, much to Hiccup’s chagrin.

“Mum, no...”

“Oh, but it suits him, son,” She tells him cheerfully, enamored by her new grandson. “It has its own charm, don’t you think?”

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” He mutters for himself dryly. “I mean, you did call me ‘Hiccup’.”

“And you turned out to be the strongest of them all!” She reminds him fondly, and he feels his annoyance drift away slightly.

Soon enough, even Hiccup and Astrid are calling him that - it just happens, despite them trying not to give into it.

“Well, at least he won’t have to live up to anyone,” Astrid sighs, swaddling their son in furs to keep him warm one morning. “Nuffink...well, we can make it work. We’ll make it great, won’t we, Nuff?”

Nuffink gurgles happily at her, quite unconcerned. She smiles, pressing a kiss to her son’s forehead as Hiccup chuckles fondly at her.

“There are worse names,” He reminds her. “He could be a Hiccup, like me, or...or a Snotlout.”

She narrows her eyes at him, though he sees the playful smirk tugging at her mouth. “We are never - and I mean never - naming one of our children after a Jorgenson, Hiccup.”

Hiccup laughs, and she laughs too in amusement. “Well, thank Thor we can agree on that, at least.”

Perhaps it’s mostly because their daughter picked it, but they both grow to love the name quickly - almost as quickly as their family grows to love their son himself.

#I LOVE THIS BABY OKAY PROTECT HIM #i might turn this into a proper fic later #httyd #how to train your dragon #how to train your dragon 3 #httyd 3 #hiccup haddock #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #astrid hofferson #nuffink haddock #zephyr haddock #hiccstrid

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moirai-au · 4 years

Text

Timeline: Arc 1 - Early days. one week before Mars and Ollie meet.

Warnings: minor injuries

“Really dude, I’m- ow!”

“Shut up and stop squirming, I’m almost done.”

Oliver pouted but complied, and Max almost laughed at his pitiful bruised face; the whole situation was absurd in itself. Here they were, seating across their walking disaster of a roommate on the living room couch at three in the morning, patching him up like some sort of nurse in a superhero movie.

Max scoffed as they ran the needle through the skin one more time. “You’re lucky I was the one awake. Nana would’ve given you an earful.”

They’d been working late -as they tended to do these days- when Ollie had shuffled through the apartment door, looking worse for wear. Max had dropped everything right here and then to berate him, harsh whispers and muffled laughter rising under the dim ceiling lights; as neither of them wanted to wake Ninanjala and face her wrath, they had to be quiet.

Ollie giggled, then hissed in pain; his split lip stung. “Yeah, she would’ve fussed over me like a bird mom. Prolly try to make me stay home for the day.”

Max raised a brow. “You do know you’ll still have to face her at some point today, right?”

“Ah, tits.”

“Yup. Speaking of…”

They tugged on the string -eliciting a low “ow” from their roommate- before snipping it cut with a pair of thin, metal scissors. They gestured towards Ollie’s chest, covered by his trusty, bright red hoodie. “You’ve been wearing that thing all day. Take it off.”

He groaned. “That an order?”

“You bet your sweet ass it is.”

He moaned dramatically, his hands reaching behind his back and under his clothes. After a few seconds of twisting and fiddling, they came back with his binder and laid it down on the coffee table. “There. Happy now?”

Max nodded and hummed in approval, gently grabbing Ollie’s face to inspect it. “Okay, eyebrow’s good enough. Here,” they crossed their legs and patted their thigh authoritatively. “Lay down for a sec, this will be easier. I think your lip needs some stitches as well.”

“Yes chief!”

They snorted as Ollie laid his head on their lap, and ran a hand though the lime green strands; they could feel his scruffy hair through the fabric of their sweatpants. “You’d tell me if you were in trouble, right? You’d tell us.”

“I’m not, I swear. No-one’s gunna come and burn the building down because I owe a crime boss money or some shit.”

Max rolled their eyes, fingers working the thread around the wound in automatic motions. “I just… I just hope you’re not putting yourself at risk.” they whispered. “I won’t baby you, I know you can take care of yourself, but… I also know how reckless you can be. So whatever it is you do out there… illegal cage fights or whatever-”

Oliver snorted at that.

“Don’t laugh, this is serious. You’re our partner. The three of us? Me, you, Nilanjana?”

They waved their free hand around, struggling to find the right words. “Whatever this thing is, it clicks. It works.”

“Mmh. It’s nice. Did I tell you guys how cute you are together? Cuz I don’t think I say it enough.”

“Don’t change the subject, dumbass. What I want to say is… we care. We want you to let us in, y’know?”

Ollie stayed quiet for a few seconds, then gave them a small, timid smile. “I’m okay.”

Max responded with a deadpan expression. The read-clad boy faltered slightly under their gaze. “…Probably. Maybe.”

Max sighed, cutting the thread once more; good enough for now. “Whatever, you human trainwreck.”

They patted his shoulder to get him to sit back up, smiling fondly as he stretched and yawned. They gently held his face and tilted forward, pushing their foreheads together and relishing in the warm contact. “Now get your ass into bed before my girlfriend gets up and goes all mama bear on you.”

“Awww, y’all are adorable.”

“Damn right. Want me to wake you up before your classes?”

“Nah, I’m good, got an alarm set up. But thanks.”

As Ollie disappeared down the corridor, Max couldn’t help but notice he was limping slightly. They frowned in barely-conceited concern and let out an irritated sigh, sinking back into the couch and covering their eyes.

They prayed to whoever would listen that he would still come back to them tomorrow. Just like they’d done every night for the last month, since the first time he’d come back beaten and bloody in the dead of the night.

#moirai au #jse au #jacksepticeye #jse #jse egos #jacksepticeye egos #moirail!jbm #jackieboy-man #jackieboy man #jbm #max #nilanjana #early days #oliver

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carmenlire · 5 years

Text

Paging Dr. Lightwood-Bane

read on ao3

Alec smiles at his patient before looking down to write something in her chart.

“If you keep getting better so fast, you’ll be out of here by the end of the week,” he says, looking back up to meet the parents’ eyes.

The mom leans over to the hospital bed, laying a hand over her daughter’s. “Did you hear that, honey? You’ll be home in time for your birthday.”

The little girl, Danielle, just grins up at Alec. “Thanks, Dr. Alec!”

Chuckling, Alec just shakes his head. “Don’t thank me. It’s all you.”

Hanging the chart back on the foot of the bed, Alec leaves after a few last minute remarks. Heading over to the nurse’s station, he checks in with Underhill.

“Anything I need to know before I go on lunch?”

Looking at his computer screen, Underhill leans back in his seat and sends him a droll look. “Not unless you want to stay and help me with Room 207.”

“Not a chance in hell,” Alec says pleasantly and he turns on his heel and walks away as his friend laughs behind him.

Room 207 had a dragon of a woman and any unsuspecting staff member who walked into her room was stuck for forty five minutes as she listed every symptom under the sun in between biting commentary on her current soap opera of choice.

Every knew about her and it made Alec particularly grateful that he was a pediatrics surgeon.

Walking back to his office, Alec takes a seat behind his desk and spends a few minutes updating his notes from this morning’s rounds. That done, he takes his phone out, unlocking it to see a text message.

Where are you? Your brother won’t shut up about the benefits of Vinyasa yoga and I’m going to strangle him if you don’t get to the cafeteria soon.

Laughing a little, Alec shakes his head as he replies.

Sorry, babe. I lost track of time. Be down in 5.

Pocketing his phone, Alec stands, raising his hands overhead to stretch a little. He runs a hand through his hair distractedly as he leaves his office and heads toward the elevator. He enters it with a dozen other people but thankfully none of them are in the mood to talk and he makes it down to the third floor without issue.

When he walks into the cafeteria, Alec immediately sees the little group in their customary corner. There’s Jace and Magnus-- one talking passionately and the other closing his eyes as though praying for patience-- along with Izzy and Maia. Simon and Clary round out the bunch and as Alec goes through the line, picking up a questionable quiche and bottle of orange juice, he wonders what joys are in store for him this particular afternoon.

There’s a seat beside Magnus open and Alec drops into it with little fanfare. Almost immediately, he feels a foot nudge his own and he smiles a little as he lets his thigh press against Magnus’s a little more.

“So,” Clary breaks in excitedly. “What’s everyone’s plans for the weekend? Does everyone have to work?”

Twisting his juice open, Alec absently says, “I’m going out of town.”

Everyone turns to look at him, silent. Alec warily looks up from where he’d been peeling the plastic wrap from his quiche. “What?”

“You, Alec Lightwood, are spending two whole days away from the hospital? Isn’t that, like, sacrilege to you?”

Alec scowls. “I’m not on rotation this weekend-- I’m not even on call-- and we decided to make the most out of it.”

“We,” Maia asks, brows inching towards her hair line. “Who’s we?”

From his periphery, Alec catches Magnus look down at his phone, opening Instagram and scrolling aimlessly. He can just see the hint of a smirk on his face.

“My husband and I,” he mutters and he rolls his eyes as its like a bomb’s been detonated in the middle of the table.

Simon screeches, “What,” and even Jace and Isabelle are looking at him with wide eyes.

“You’re married?”

Alec feels heat flood his cheeks, wincing as he realizes he hadn’t meant to do this in the damn cafeteria. “It was a spur of the moment decision last weekend. We’re planning a ceremony with family and friends later in the summer but we wanted to get away and celebrate a little, just the two of us.”

Clary’s smiles brightly. She stands up and comes around the table, wrapping her arms around Alec. “Congratulations! I can’t believe I didn’t know you were even in a relationship, though. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“It’s complicated.”

Rallying, Isabelle shakes her head a little before she blinks up at him. “I’m going to kill you for not telling me sooner but I’m so happy for you, hermano.” She winks. “I knew you were planning to propose but I didn’t think you had it in you to just go for it.”

Alec just shrugs. “I love him and we’ve been together since medical school. I honestly don’t know why we waited so long in the first place. It seemed silly to wait even longer.”

“If I didn’t know better, Alexander, I’d wonder if alcohol was involved.” Magnus’s voice sounds next to him and while he’s internally exasperated, Alec just glares over at him.

“There may have been several mimosas involved,” he admits evenly.

Jace snorts, pointing a finger in his direction. “You always were a lightweight. I’m surprised your boyfriend-- sorry, husband-- just went along with it.”

At that, Magnus looks up with a thoughtful expression. “I would imagine there were a lot of mimosas involved. Most men aren’t infallible to the lures of champagne.”

Grimacing a little, Alec offers, “They were bottomless.”

Simon’s still looking at him like he’s sprouted horns and Alec doesn’t say anything as he meets his gaze head on. His little staring match is interrupted, though, as he sees Jace’s face shift from the corner of his eye.

Unfortunately, Alec knows that look and he closes his eyes in defeat of whatever’s about to come out of his brother’s mouth.

“What’s everyone else’s plans for the weekend? I’m working a double tomorrow but I’m planning on going out after my shift ends tomorrow night.” He turns innocent eyes to Magnus. “What about you, Magnus? You haven’t said anything in awhile.”

Unmoved, Magnus just replies, “I’m going to a winery this weekend. There’s a charming bed and breakfast on the premises and I’m eager to escape the city’s heat for a few days.”

Maia looks up at that. “A winery? Where? I’m always looking for new places to try.”

The topic of conversation moves on as the group starts talking about their favorite wines. Alec kicks Jace under the table and he doesn’t even flinch.

Izzy’s beeper goes off an instant before Jace’s and then they’re both standing and all but running out of the cafeteria. They’re both ER doctors and Alec watches them go as they respond to an emergency.

Everyone else gets up and leaves a few minutes later, their lunch hour coming to an end. Everyone but Magnus, that is.

It’s just the two of them at the large table and Alec turns to look at his husband with an arched brow. “That’s not exactly how I planned on telling everyone.”

Laughing a little, Magnus raises an arm so that he can run his fingers through the hair at Alec’s nape. “You don’t say, darling. I don’t envy the conversation you’re going to be having with Isabelle later.”

Snorting, Alec retorts, “You don’t think she’s going to sit both of us down and demand an answer?”

“She’s your sister.”

“She’s your sister-in-law,” Alec shoots back.

Magnus smiles at that, expression softening. “Yeah, she is, isn’t she?”

“Yes, Mr. Lightwood-Bane, she is.”

“I think we should serve bottomless mimosas at our reception next month,” Magnus says, changing the topic. He grins as he adds, “They are my new favorite drink, after all.”

Rolling his eyes, Alec looks around the cafeteria before leaning close and kissing Magnus’s cheek. “Mine too,” he says lowly and then he’s refocusing on his sad lunch as his husband rests a hand on the back of his chair.

It’s late in the afternoon when Simon knocks on his door. Looking up, Alec’s scowl shifts to confused delight as he takes in the large arrangement of flowers in the receptionist’s hands.

“What’s this?”

Speaking through the flowers, Simon replies, “These just came in from you.”

Entering his office, Simon unceremoniously sets the flowers on his desk. “They’re from your husband.”

“How do you know that,” Alec asks with a raised brow.

“Well first of all, who else would be sending you flowers? Unless you have a side piece-- in which case, my opinion of you has plummeted-- they’d have to be from your husband. That and I read the card,” Simon admits grudgingly whenever Alec doesn’t say anything, just levels him with a look.

Straightening in his chair, Alec reaches for the ivory card between two stems.

Alexander,

Thank you for a lovely weekend. As pre-honeymoons go, it was wonderful. I can’t wait for our next trip together-- though hopefully we spend more time exploring outside of our room.

Well, on second thought. . . you do look so beautiful flushed and drunk on wine, sweetheart.

Enjoy your morning, darling. I’ll see you later today.

Your loving husband

Smiling as he reads the short message, Alec looks up as Simon stands there, just watching him.

“Yes?”

“Nothing,” Simon says. “I’ve just never seen you so happy. I didn’t think your face could make that expression.”

“A smile?”

“Yeah,” Simon replies bluntly. “That message was super sappy and you’re not only tolerating it but you’re, like, thriving. It’s a little much for me to wrap my head around.”

Alec scowls. “Stop trying to wrap your head around anything and get back to work, Lewis.”

With a half-assed salute, Simon just grins. “I know your secrets now, Alec. I know the snark hides a big ole teddy bear heart. You can’t scare me anymore.”

Alec narrows his eyes and it only takes three seconds for Simon to wither under his gaze, turning and escaping his office with a thrown out, “Nevermind, sorry!”

Waiting until Simon closes the door behind him, Alec huffs out a laugh as he stands and brings the vase closer to him. He leans down and sniffs the colorful arrangements before reaching for his phone and snapping a pic.

He sends the picture to Magnus with, Thanks, babe. They’re almost as beautiful as you.

The morning is spent working on a paper he’s writing for the American Medical Journal and he grabs lunch at his desk in between filling out medical reports. It’s late afternoon when someone pokes their head into his office, though Alec doesn’t notice them until they wrap arms around his shoulders.

Startling a little, he almost immediately relaxes as he catches a hint of sandalwood shampoo. He tilts his head up until he can nose along Magnus’s throat. “Hey, you,” he murmurs against smooth skin.

“Hey, yourself. How’s work been?”

“Damned hard. Someone wore me out this weekend,” Alec teases and Magnus’s arms tighten a little as he laughs before pulling away. Alec turns his chair, widening the space between his legs and pulling his husband between them with fingers looped through his belt holes.

Magnus moves closer, narrowing his eyes. “Oh? I’m sure you’re mistaken, darling. If I remember correctly, I was the one who wanted to go on that wine tasting but no, you just had to slip into those lace panties and lounge on the bed, looking all rumpled and debauched--

“I was relaxing while you did your hair!”

“--And it takes a stronger man than me to resist you in black lace, Alexander. That and you were practically begging me to take you out of them, what with all your ‘oh, Magnus, these feel so good’ and ‘babe, are these too see-through.’ It’s a wonder I let you out of the hotel room at all, honestly.”

“Let me,” Alec asks, reaching for the top button of Magnus’s button-down.

Humming a little, Magnus studies him as Alec rapidly undoes his shirt before pulling him closer to nose along his sternum.

“You’re right,” Magnus breathes, carding his hands through Alec’s hair. “People think I’m the one who ruined you with my hedonistic little clutches but they don’t know you’re temptation incarnate. Why, what would they say if they knew about the time you bent me over that bench at the New York Philharmonic charity gala or that you have an unforgivably sexy habit of wearing silk under your classic suits.” Magnus gasps as Alec’s hands go to his belt, as he undoes his pants, pulling them down with his underwear in one efficient move. “Maybe then they’d know that I never stood a chance, darling. It’s a hard job but someone’s got to do it, I tell myself, having such an insatiable husband.”

“Poor you,” Alec murmurs, nibbling across the jut of a hip bone. “But you love it.”

“I love you,” Magnus replies softly, scratching at his scalp.

Grinning, Alec echoes the words against Magnus’s stomach, nosing down to where his arousal is evident.

Alec’s hands rest against the bare skin of Magnus’s hips, nails pressing little crescents into his skin just enough to leave marks. He’s just about to close his mouth over Magnus when his door fly opens.

He twists, pulling Magnus so that he’s hidden in front of Alec with Alec’s back to the door. Looking over his shoulder, he’s set to offer a sharp rebuttal but it dies when he sees who it is. He doesn’t see who’s behind her.

“Get the hell out, Iz. Jesus.”

Raising a brow, Isabelle takes in the scene before turning on her heel. Over her shoulder, she says, “You two have sixty seconds to make yourselves decent and then I’m coming back in.” She can’t leave, though, because Clary’s right there, staring at the two of them with her mouth open.

“Oh my God,” she says, voice faint. “I just saw Magnus’s dick.”

Alec’s eyes widen as he finally registers Clary and Magnus snorts above him.

“Biscuit, as much as I enjoy the occasional bout of exhibitionism, I like to keep it outside of working hours.” He arches a brow. “Care to give us a minute?”

Sighing, aggrieved, Isabelle spins Clary around and with hands still on her shoulders, she pushes her into the hallway

Alec and Magnus look at each other in the sudden silence of his office before they break into breathless chuckles.

“It was bound to come out sooner or later,” Magnus says with a little shrug.

Wincing, Alec nods. “Still. I didn’t want anyone to find out because they saw me about to go down on you. Talk about scarred for life.”

“For her or for you,” Magnus asks with a grin and Alec groans, letting his head fall to Magnus’s shoulder.

A minute later, there’s a tentative knock on the door before it eases slowly open. Isabelle peaks her head in to make sure they’re clothes before pushing it the rest of the way open.

“Now that everything’s covered up maybe we can actually get some work done, you know, at work.” Her tone is equal parts brisk and gleeful.

Both Magnus and Alec roll their eyes but they move over to the small seating area in front of Alec’s desk. Alec settles onto the couch, Magnus next to him, while Izzy and Clary take the two chairs.

The silence stretches out and Alec watches as Clary looks between him and Magnus. Sighing, Alec wraps an arm around Magnus’s shoulder and some tension leaves him as Magnus relaxes against his side with a hand on his thigh.

“Yes, Fray, Magnus and I are together.”

That seems to snap her out of her daze and she points an accusatory finger in their direction. “You’re married!”

This time it’s Magnus who answers with a patient smile. “Yes, Biscuit. Alec and I are married.”

“How didn’t I know?”

Alec and Magnus share a look before they before give a negligent shrug. “We never really advertise it,” Alec offers. “When we were both hired, we didn’t want anything to jeopardize our positions and it just became habit once we’d been here a few years and worked our way up to heads of our departments.”

“Alexander is a private person,” Magnus demurs. “We agreed early on to keep our work and home life separate.”

Alec hears Isabelle mutter under her breath, “Considering you were half naked in my brother’s office five minutes ago. . .” and he sends her a withering look that she returns with a supercilious expression.

Impatient, Isabelle waves the conversation away. “Enough about my brother’s painful lack of restraint when it comes to Magnus. That’s old news. I need your expertise on a patient-- and I’ll take yours too, Magnus, since you’re here.”

Everyone gets serious at that and Alec finds that he doesn’t mind the occasional looks from Clary as she’s obviously trying to wrap her head around his relationship, not when he gets to hold Magnus’s hand at work.

Walking down the corridor, he rounds the corner and almost runs into Magnus. Alec feels the warmth as he’s treated to a thorough once over before Magnus slowly grinning.

“Why, Dr. Lightwood, that’s an interesting shirt you’re wearing today.”

Alec just gives him a deadpan look. “Oh, do you like it? It’s my husband’s.”

The elevator dings, signalling its opening onto their floor but neither Alec or Magnus pay it any attention. Instead, they’re too caught up in each other.

Magnus reaches a hand out, sweeping it over the sleeve of the diamond-patterned button-down until he can run a thumb under the cuff, caressing Alec’s wrist. “If I may be so bold, your husband has exceptional taste.”

“He certainly thinks so,” Alec agrees with a soft grin and he watches as Magnus’s eyes narrow.

“Trust me, darling, he’s an expert.”

Laughing a little, Alec leans closer to Magnus. His breath catches as Magnus mirrors him.

“Careful, Dr. Bane. My husband’s the jealous sort.”

“Oh? I find that hard to believe.”

With a droll look, Alec simply says, “We once went to a club and when a guy bought me a drink, he left the dance floor, squeezed his way between the two of us and wrapped his arms around my neck, making out with me until the guy-- who was a friend from college-- left, scandalized.”

Expression turning sheepish, Magnus weakly offers, “He was quite drunk, you know. He thought he was preserving your honor.”

Shaking his head, Alec laughs as he reaches up and smooths an out of place hair. “Like I said, he gets a little possessive.”

“Well, look at you, darling.” Magnus winks. “He’s well aware you could have anyone you wanted. Do you remember that dentist from Milwaukee at the vineyard? He didn’t care that I was right there whenever he offered you a free root canal whenever you wanted, if you would just stop by Wisconsin, of all places, for a drink sometime.”

Magnus and Alec stare at each other before breaking into laughter. Alec laughs so hard, he wipes a tear from his eye. “God,” he says. “That guy was such a piece of work.”

“You should take him up on it,” comes a voice to his left. “Root canals are expensive as hell.”

Alec and Magnus’s head whips over to see Maia taking a nonchalant sip of her coffee.

“What,” she asks. “I’m right.”

“Maia, dear, how long have you been standing there?”

Humming a little, Maia thoughtfully says, “Long enough to know you’re Alec’s husband.”

She turns to Alec. Her expression is serious but he sees the humor in her eyes. “You two aren’t subtle. At all. Everyone in the oncology department knows you two have been together for years.”

Alec’s eyebrows are in his hair as he asks, incredulous, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Maia just shrugs. “It was none of my business. Plus, have you seen Simon? He’s too much fun to keep out of the loop.”

She looks between them, saying-- barely-- under her breath, “Dr. Dumbass reporting for duty,” before taking another sip of her latte and leaving the two of them standing in the middle of the hallway, stunned.

“Well,” Magnus says, clearing his throat. “She’s not wrong.”

Alec doesn’t say anything, just glances over at his husband with an expectant look.

Moving closer, Magnus wraps his arms around Alec’s middle. He kisses Alec’s jaw, murmuring, “We aren’t the best at keeping to ourselves.” He pulls back to grin at Alec. “That and Sherman really is too fun to tease.”

Filing out of the conference room where they’d just wrapped up the monthly executive meeting with all the heads of the various departments, Alec looks over at Magnus as he hears. “Paging Dr. Lightwood-Bane. Please report to the Nurse’s Station on the first floor.”

Magnus sends him a dry look. “We didn’t really think that one through, did we?”

“That might get confusing fast,” Alec acknowledges. He smiles over at his husband. “Maybe we can keep our married name for outside of work?”

“That does seem to be the easiest solution,” Magnus agrees.

With a shrug, they make their way towards the receptionist on the first floor. It hadn’t sounded urgent-- Alec and Magnus are both well aware of what an emergency paging sounds like-- so they take their time, chatting idly.

“Have you mailed out the invitations for the ceremony yet?”

“Yeah. We definitely have a few people to tell before they get it them, though.”

The two of them look at each other. “Simon,” they say grimly.

Alec sighs. “You know he’s going to make a big deal out of things.”

“I would think he would’ve picked up on us by now. While there haven’t been any more discoveries à la Biscuit, we’ve all but stopped hiding our relationship.”

And that was the truth, Alec reflects with a small smile. Once they’d realized that everyone already knew about them, they’d decided to just act like they always did. There were incidental touches they leaned into and teasing that was barely masqueraded flirting. Life continued on and yet Simon remained utterly oblivious.

Alec remembers an incident last week, though, when he’d incredulously listened as Simon had expounded on all the ways he and Magnus were #brotpgoals.

Apparently only true friends were comfortable enough in their masculinity to nap together.

On the same couch.

Cuddled against each other.

With Magnus’s hand resting on his ass and Alec’s burrowed under Magnus’s shirt to lay against warm skin.

Shaking his head a little as he remembers Simon’s little lecture on toxic masculinity and how important it was for men to accept softness into their lives, Alec can’t imagine the conversation that needs to happen within the next few days.

Getting out of the elevator, Alec follows Magnus to the receptionist desk. Magnus comes to a sudden stop, though, and Alec’s too busy staring at his husband’s ass to notice. He runs into Magnus, wrapping a hand around his waist on autopilot to steady them both but he looks up when he hears a muttered, “Oh, hell.”

Wondering what could cause such a reaction, Alec looks up just to close his eyes in defeat. “Aw, fuck,” he sighs.

Because there, standing at the receptionist’s desk, is Simon.

There’s a bit of a stand-off before Simon breathes out a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God.”

“Sherman?”

Simon brings a hand up to rest against his heart. “I was so worried about you, Alec.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Simon,” Alec asks, scowling in confusion.

“I thought you were cheating on your husband!”

Alec doesn’t say anything and neither does Magnus. They both just look at Simon who looks like he’s about to pass out from a combination of relief, happiness, and glee.

“The paperwork just came through this morning about your name changes,” Simon explains. “It explains so much.”

“Like,” Magnus asks, wary.

“Like how you’re always kissing when you think no one’s around. Guys. Everyone knows to stay away from the seventh floor utility closet Thursday afternoons. And don’t even get me started on the napping.”

Alec jerks his head up. “I thought you said that was ‘just bros being bros.'”

Simon doesn’t get a chance to say anything before Magnus is laughing, cupping Alec’s cheek to look at him with a pitiable expression. “Oh, darling, that’s from a vine. It means we were being a little gay.”

“A little,” Simon all but shrieks. “Your hand was on his ass, Magnus!”

Frowning, Alec clarifies, “So, when you said we were obviously good friends, you were--”

“Making fun of you, yes” Simon says exasperated. “I thought you were cheating on your husband with Magnus. I’m so glad that he is your husband.”

Magnus and Alec look at each other. Alec’s raises his brows. Magnus hides a laugh behind his hand.

They turn back to Simon who’s staring at them like he’s about to whip out his phone to commemorate the occasion.

Not one to be outdone, Magnus studies Simon with a sharp smile before asking, “So, now that you know-- or we know you know-- have you thought about who your plus one is going to be to our ceremony next month? Jace, perhaps?”

Simon squawks in indignation and Alec and Magnus make their escape while his brain reboots.

Back in Magnus’s office a few minutes later, they collapse on the couch.

“Well, I guess everyone knows.”

“They do, indeed,” Magnus replies. “How do you feel about that?”

“Happy,” Alec says after a few minutes. He turns his head, looking over to meet Magnus’s eyes. “I want everyone to know how much I love you.”

Laughing softly, Magnus kisses his shoulder before looking up with an amused expression. “Apparently, everyone’s known for ages that I’m completely head over heels for you, darling.”

Settling into the couch, Alec shrugs. “Well, now they’ll just know a little more.”

It takes months for Simon to stop referencing that stupid vine every time he and Magnus do something the least bit affectionate.

Alec pretends to be much more annoyed than he is and every time, Magnus just looks over at him and grins.

Alec smiles back, comfortable and so full of love he can barely contain it.

#my writing #paging dr. bane #malec fic

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