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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

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a kiss from the moon | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: All these years, all these summers, Jeon Jungkook has loved you. His problem? You have no idea. Mostly because he has always said it far too platonically and thrown up in your lap after saying it. Drunk. Fuck. Oh, yeah, and you're also Park Jimin's best friend since preschool. Shit.

warnings: language; alcohol consumption; pining; JK gets distracted by (your) tits during his quest, typical; non-idol!BTS - purple-haired!Jungkook x sleepy af, noona!reader, ft Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung radiating big soulmate energy; childhood friends-to-lovers

yes, it's JK from the 'Butter' beach photos

“I love you!”

You lifted your head out of the mountain of pillows, groggy and hazy, squinting at the moonlight filtering through the floating curtains. The night breeze was warm, drifting in softly with the low hum of cicadas. But what was that other sound? That other sound was familiar, wasn’t it?

You heard your name being shouted, followed by, “Wake up!”

You made a face and stumbled out of the bed, sticking your head out of your bedroom window, your own hair flying back and smacking you in the face.

“Yah! Jeon Jungkook, are you trying to wake up the whole damn neighborhood?!”

“Get down here!”

You put on your best disgruntled expression and peered down at the form on your front lawn, shoving your own hair aside.

“What are you going on about?” you muttered, seeing Jeon Jungkook looking up at you, puffing his cheeks, long wet purple hair fading to gray because of the chlorine from swimming all night at that party Park Jimin had invited you to earlier today, to which you had responded, no thanks, I’m going to sleep all day, I worked three double shifts in a row and I have zero desire to be flung into your family’s swimming pool at this time, but I will acknowledge that your offer is very generous, and then promptly passing out for a good – you glanced at your phone with the pink bunny case Jungkook had given you two summers ago – ten hours and it was still not enough for you to comprehend why your best friend’s best friend was standing on your front lawn yelling at your parents’ house that you were watching for a month while they were in Italy getting drunk on far too expensive wine and eating cheese they probably couldn’t pronounce.

Jungkook was shirtless, clad only in orange swim shorts and sandals like a fucking hooligan. He was clutching a plastic red Solo cup and he threw it at the house, yelling your name again.

“Oh my fucking God, don’t litter, you idiot!” you bellowed back, throwing yourself away from the windowsill and crawling on the floor to your bedroom door like the evolution of mankind, making it from all fours to two legs by the time you got to the stairs – good thing too, you might have broken your neck if you were still disoriented – and you dragged yourself downstairs, yanking your white slip dress straight. Not your choice of pajamas. Your mom’s, who told you to be more ladylike, whatever the fuck that meant, and who also informed you in the same breath that it was your only choice of pajamas since they donated all your clothes from high school.

Awesome.

You go to university and your parents yeet all evidence that they had a child and go vacationing.

Good for them.

You wrenched your front door open and shoved your feet into your dad’s giant brown sandals and clapped your way over to the pink-faced, mildly drunk, shirtless man in swimming trunks on your front lawn.

“It’s two in the morning. Why are you standing here drunk and professing your love like some kind of deranged Romeo?” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. “Why aren’t you at Jimin’s?” You spied the red Solo cup and picked it up, whipping your head back to Jeon Jungkook.

He was staring at you with his mouth open.

Charming.

He didn’t say anything for a good ten seconds.

“Alright, fine, let me call my loser of a best friend and tell him to pick up his loser of a best friend, so I can go back to sleep,” you muttered, about to turn around.

Jungkook seemed to sputter back to life. “Wait, um, noona–”

“He speaks! He’s not dead.”

“A… Ah… Um…”

You squinted at him and reached up to knock the side of his head. “Hello? Anyone in there?”

Jungkook blurted out, “I love you.”

His breath smelled a lot like alcohol.

“Yeah, I got that. You also said that when I got you through your Chemistry and World History exams. Both times. You also say that to like, what, six of your guy friends? Don’t get me started on the amount of times you’ve said it and thrown up in my lap right after. Don’t do that this time,” you added sternly, prodding at his chest. “I’ve got one set of pajamas because my mom forgets that human beings change clothes, so throw up on the grass.”

“Uh… that’s pajamas…?”

“Lady pajamas,” you grumbled sarcastically, lifting the lid and chucking the crumpled Solo cup into your parents’ trash can. “Since I’m not lady enough apparently according to my mom, even though I’m ninety-nine percent sure giant band t-shirts are completely unisex but, whatever, it’s just a dress, not a big deal.”

“Um.”

You looked at Jungkook, who looked back at you, who put your hands up and gestured him to say something, who in response rose his hands and flapped them in confusion, giving you absolutely zero helpful communication. The movement reminded you he had gotten his right arm and hand tattooed in the last couple years, the black ink standing out against tan skin. You hadn’t seen him too many times during your university years, too busy completing research papers and staying late nights in laboratories, only to now end up working on hospital software and sitting on your ass all day. Life, eh? These past three days were spent on working through bugs for the next software update and you had maybe lost all social skills as you attempted to unravel lines of code that you stared at for forty-eight out of the past seventy-two hours.

Fun!

“Do you need a cookie? A shower? The Bible?” you offered, waving your hands. “Maybe tell me why you’re here, yes?”

He was staring and you realized you were slightly bent over in your gesture, your breasts firmly pressed into the cups of the slip dress. You straightened and Jungkook’s wide dark brown eyes went back to your face.

“I… I didn’t realize you had come back, noona.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about? I told Jimin last week. He said he was hanging out with you and Taehyung. I figured he’d just tell you guys then.”

Jungkook shook his head quickly, gray-purple hair flying about. He pointed to the left, where Jimin’s house was several blocks over. “He only mentioned it just now, when he was throwing up in the bathroom from doing eight shots in a row because Taehyungie dared him.”

“…. Maybe he needs the Bible…” you muttered, shaking your head.

Then the realization hit you.

“Did you walk here from Jimin’s and straight up abandon the party?”

Jungkook tilted his head and thought about it. “Yeah.”

You looked around to find the camera and see if you were being pranked, but there was no camera because this life wasn’t purely for entertainment, right? Nah, this wasn’t The Matrix.

Mhm.

“Hah, well, what’s wrong? Are you upset I didn’t go to the party or something? I had three double-shifts this week, I wasn’t going to be any fun passed out before actually drinking–”

“Yoongi-hyung was passed out before drinking.”

“In some ways, I swear that guy and I are the same person,” you laughed, shaking your head. “Anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t go and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I really banked on Jimin not being an airhead, but once again he is, so maybe I should reconsider him as my best friend…”

“Noona, I…”

You looked up from your mental consideration of Park Jimin’s pros and cons, the first pro being he punched that ex of yours that cheated on you with some Tinder hookup and that was already enough to stop contemplating, so you blinked at Jungkook curiously, looking into wide brown eyes, long strands of ash-purple floating around his handsome face from the night breeze, brushing against his parted lips, highlighting the mole underneath them, placed perfectly in the center like a kiss from the moon itself.

“Can I take a shower and sleep it off here?”

You tilted your head. “Yeah, sure. You can borrow my dad’s clothes. You should call Jimin though. You don’t want him to panic that he lost you.”

“Y… Yeah, okay…”

Jeon Jungkook really thought he could say it this time.

Collected all his courage and ran, ran as fast as he could, couldn’t believe Jimin had neglected to say she was coming home over the summer for more than a day, days without her reminding Jungkook that he was a coward for not saying it when he could have, having lost his most important person in the world because he was too afraid of telling Park Jimin that he was in love with his best friend.

He remembered that smile wearing nothing but a large t-shirt, sitting on Jimin’s bedroom floor, crushing all of them at UNO and cackling as Jimin blew up for ending up in last place for the third time in a row, yelling that the game was rigged, and Jungkook remembered thinking, I should tell her tonight.

And he didn’t.

He remembered her saying to Taehyung that she just wasn’t into girly things. They were having this argument over pizza and Taehyung was waving his around saying she should at least try a dress on every once in a while, never know, might actually like it, and her rolling her eyes as she shot back that she didn’t have to do anything just because it was stereotypical for her gender. Taehyung told her to stop using big words and waved his hands, accidentally flinging his pizza slice into her lap, and Jungkook remembered thinking, I should tell her after we clean up.

And he didn’t.

He remembered seeing her prepare to leave for university once again, holding a small package from the internet and handing it to her, a small but practical belated birthday gift, both of them surprised when she opened it, not the matte black phone case he had ordered, but somehow mixed up with a pink bunny phone case that had no business being owned by someone who didn’t like girly things.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t order this–”

And she laughed, shaking her head. “That’s okay, I gotta go, thanks anyway, Jungkook!”

The years went by and every year Jungkook told himself, this is the one, and every year he just couldn’t say it.

He thought he could say it now, drunk and furious at Jimin for not preparing him for this moment, but on his way here Jungkook figured that perhaps this was preferred, that maybe it was better that he couldn’t sit around nervously overthinking what to say.

But, of course, the problem was…

He had already said it in a platonic way.

Shit.

He really fucked himself throughout the years.

Jungkook sighed, now wearing borrowed clothes, holding the note of her handwriting as he rubbed his hair with the towel.

I washed your shorts and they’re hang-drying now. You can sleep in the guest room. I left a glass of water and some hangover meds. If you need anything, I’ll be asleep but you can attempt to wake the dead if you want.

He walked down the hall, towel around his shoulders. Her bedroom door was open. He stood outside the entrance, sighing, seeing her sleeping form and her bedside table, her phone sitting on the charger.

His breath caught in his throat as he recognized that pink bunny phone case.

“Where’s Jungkook?”

“Probably at her parents’ place, confessing his love,” Kim Taehyung snickered, picking up the beer bottles left behind next to the pool.

“Hah, of course he would leave without cleaning up,” Park Jimin grumbled, pushing the recycling bin along as Taehyung tossed each bottle inside.

“You think he’s gonna tell her?”

“He didn’t even tell me,” Jimin muttered, shoving used napkins into the bag hanging off the side of the recycling bin that he was going to toss into the trash later. “I had to find out from you. I think he’s hopeless. Why does he like her anyway? She’s fun to be around, yeah, she’s good at school, yeah, knows a lot of random facts, yeah, if you get into philosophy with her like Namjoon-hyung does, you begin to question humanity and reality, yeah, but other than that…”

“You hitting on your best friend, dude?”

“I mean, she’s kinda hot, she wouldn’t say no to me.”

Taehyung snorted.

Jimin smacked him in the ass with the recycling bin.

“Anyway, he’s probably just standing in her bedroom creepily watching her sleeping.”

Jungkook stared down at her sleeping form.

He looked up, looking out the window into the late, late night. He was tired, and yet he couldn’t sleep, too busy wondering.

I don’t deserve her if I’m not brave enough to say it.

“Jungkook?”

You squinted at the large form in your bedroom.

“Why are you just staring moodily out the window?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “Is something wrong? Are you hungry? I can make you a snack…”

“Noona, do you know what the worst feeling in the world is?” he asked softly, still looking out into the warm night.

You grunted and scrunched up your face. “Stepping on a Lego?”

You heard Jungkook laugh and you smiled a little despite your groggy state, hearing a little bit of his old self, the younger Jungkook hanging out with you, Jimin, and, later, Taehyung, the four of you getting up to no good. Somehow, in the past few years, he had gotten quieter and quieter, at least around you, but then again you only came home to visit for a day or two before going back to university.

“Have you ever been in love, noona?”

“Yeah, with the red bean popsicles they used to sell at the ice cream trucks, but then they stopped, those assholes, I’ve never been so heartbroken in my life,” you grumbled, remembering the day where the ice cream man told you they were sold out and your young teenage heart shattering.

“I love you, you know.”

Was this a fever dream? Why did he keep repeating himself? You looked over to his back, still looking outside onto the street, the street where you all used to run and laugh every summer, pretending you were surviving in the wild and not in the middle of a suburban neighborhood, sitting around sipping lemonade and complaining about the heat even though you all could have gone inside, lighting sparklers at night and seeing whose would last the longest even though such a thing was only based on chance anyway.

“Is that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?” he added quietly.

“The worst thing I’ve ever heard was accidentally hearing Jimin jacking off. Twice.”

Jungkook finally turned around, giving you a disgusted look. “What?”

You placed a hand on your face and sighed heavily, trying not to remember. “For some reason he thinks the bathroom isn’t echoey or something, like, at least do it in the shower, so the water masks the sound…” You chuckled, shaking your head. “Anyway, I would much rather hear you say you have love for me than listening to Jimin getting off.”

“I don’t have love for you.”

You raised your hand from your face and shifted your gaze to him, half-smile lingering on your lips from remembering Jimin’s carelessness. You made eye contact the second the words left his mouth, those brown eyes shrouded in shadows, but still so clear, a little helpless, a little sad.

“I’m in love with you,” Jungkook whispered softly.

Your eyes widened.

A soft breeze swept through the window, lifting the purple-gray strands from Jungkook’s face, revealing his lost, desolate expression.

The cicadas hummed.

A car alarm honked loudly, screeching through the night.

Both you and Jungkook jerked to face the window. You bolted out of bed and you both threw your hands onto the edge of the window, yanking it shut, wincing at the loud noise.

“Ah, jeez… what the hell…?” you groaned, slumping to the ground.

“What’s with people…?” Jungkook muttered, falling to the floor beside you, yanking the towel off his shoulders.

“Fuck, I pressed the wrong button!”

“Taehyung, what the hell, turn it off!”

“I was just trying to put the tangerines your parents gave me in my car!”

“I don’t care what you were doing, turn it off!”

“Anyway, sorry, you were saying something important and you got interrupted by some dumbass,” you sighed, nudging Jungkook with your shoulder.

“Uh… well, that was it…”

You blinked at him, tilting your head. “What, that you’re in love with me?”

“Y… Yeah?”

You blinked some more.

“Not the, want to go to the arcade and see who can get the highest score in PAC-MAN or go watch shitty action movies and rate the unrealistic plot lines or dare each other to eat whatever expired delicacy is in Taehyung’s fridge, kind of love?”

Jungkook made a repulsed face. “I regret eating that tofu. Don’t think I can ever look at uncooked tofu without gagging a little now…”

You leaned over and caught his eye.

“Do you mean the… want to date and get married and make babies, kind of love?”

His lips parted and the moonlight lit the small mole placed perfectly underneath his lower lip.

A delicate kiss from the moon itself.

Then you realized he was staring at your tits.

You yanked the neckline up a little and Jungkook started, looking back up at you with wide eyes.

“Sorry, I’m just not used to you in a dress, sorry, I’m being really rude–”

“It assures me that you’re at least interested in the making babies part,” you chuckled.

His ears turned red and he reached up to cover them, trying not to look down. “S… Sorry…”

“So…?”

He chewed on his lip, messing with his earrings with his fingertips. “Um… yeah, that kind of love. The latter kind.”

You lowered your hand. “You’re not messing with me, right? I swear, if this is one of Taehyung’s elaborate ideas to mess with me, I’m going to ki–”

Jungkook shook his head quickly, purple hair flying about. “I’m not joking around. I wanted to tell you for a long, long time, but…” His eyes darted about, panicking a little, before looking back to you helplessly. “You’re Jimin’s best friend, besides Taehyung, and what if… what if you thought I was gross or something and then I don’t think I could hang out with you guys anymore, but then you went to that prestigious university far away and I thought, I’m so stupid, I should have said something, anything, but every time I could even think about it, I didn’t know what to say, nothing seemed right…”

He let out a big sigh and tapped his head against the windowsill, closing his eyes.

“Also, I said it before and threw up in your lap right after, so that kinda fucked me up.”

“Can’t say I was really feeling the romance, yeah.”

He groaned and covered his face with his hands.

“I’d date you though. For real.”

Jungkook removed his hands and blinked at you. “What?”

You chuckled. “Why are you acting so surprised? I’m not going to date Jimin, blergh, I’ve known that guy since I was in preschool. I’m not dating Taehyung, I’m pretty sure he’s on a different brainwave than other human beings.”

You smiled at him and turned around to pick up your phone, holding it up.

“I don’t like girly things or cute things very much, but I kept your gift because it was from you and, funnily enough, I think it made me realize that I was rejecting femininity because society puts such a negative connotation on things young women like and because my friends growing up were primarily male, thus I wanted to seem cool or relatable so I rejected stereotypically feminine concepts…”

“… What?”

Now it was a confused what.

“Uh, never mind,” you laughed awkwardly, putting your phone back on your nightstand. “Anyway, Jungkook, you made me realize things about myself, and I love being around you, but I thought a handsome guy like you would want to date a pretty girl, and I’m not really that.”

Jungkook furrowed his brows. “What are you talking about? You’re the prettiest girl in the world. No one could ever be prettier than you.”

You felt your neck heat. “Yo, don’t inflate my ego when it’s not the truth,” you chuckled sheepishly, waving a hand. “You’ve been drinking anyway. Alcohol makes everyone prettier.”

“It’s the truth.”

Was he drunk or were you drunk? Why was Jeon Jungkook getting closer?

“Would you really date me?”

You stared into those chocolate eyes and smiled.

“Yes, I would.”

And you leaned forward and kissed him.

His eyes widened, staring at you and you closed your eyes, pressing your lips to his, inhaling his scent, memories of hot summers and mirthful laughter filling your head, standing beside Jungkook and kicking Jimin and Taehyung’s ass at table tennis even though Jungkook was doing most of the work, finishing a movie together after Jimin and Taehyung had passed out on the couch on top of each other and talking excitedly about it until you both fall asleep, getting lamb skewers after Jimin and Taehyung went off to eat ramen in a huff, unable to agree on the same meal as a foursome, but it was fine, no, better than fine, perfect even.

Because you were with Jungkook.

You broke the kiss and opened your eyes, smiling at him.

He blinked slowly, looking down at you.

“Noona…”

His hand raised, fingers spreading out longingly. You quickly reached up and pushed it back down.

“Jungkook, I swear, I do want to touch you in a less than holy way, but maybe not when you’re wearing my dad’s clothes, including his underwear, because that’s really fucking weird.”

Jungkook looked down at the brown t-shirt and beige shorts. “Oh. Yeah. Right.”

“You know, come to think of it, I feel like Taehyung has slowly stolen Jimin from me over the years, so maybe this was fated…” you mumbled, remembering at the moments you had shared with Jungkook were because your other two friends had abandoned you.

“I feel you, sometimes I feel like a third wheel…”

“I’m so sleepy.”

“I’ll tuck you in first, but I’m going to get us some water so we don’t die tomorrow morning.”

“Ugh, Jimin, bring another pillow please.”

“Hah, fine, but you’re buying breakfast tomorrow…”

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#jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook x noona #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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whitesparrows97 · 3 years

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Underdog – Part 1

Pairing: Dog Shifter!Taehyung x Human!Reader/Kim Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Shifter AU/Hybrid AU

Summary: Even though humans and shifters coexist in one world, it’s still a rarity for hybrids to openly show themselves. One evening, when you hit a stray dog with your car, you feel so guilty that you bring him home with you. But you don’t realize until much later that you let a stranger into your house.

Warnings: Angst, being in a car accident

Word Count: 7.8K

Authors note: Hello, hello! I had this story in my drafts for months now (thanks overthinking me) and I really wanted to get at least the first chapter out before Taehyung’s birthday. I’m not sure how many chapters this story will have, but I’m aiming for around four. I really hope you’ll like this story and this chapter and I’d be happy about every kind of feedback from you guys! Thank you so much for reading!

. . .

With a gasp you woke up from a dreamless sleep. You were confused for a moment as you let your gaze glide through the dark room and could only make out the outlines of your living room. When you looked outside the window, you realized that it had already become dark.

Crap.

You only wanted to take a short nap after work before going grocery shopping. Your refrigerator and the cupboards in your kitchen were devastatingly empty. But, as was so often the case, your nap turned into a deep sleep which left you even more exhausted than before.

In the dark, you searched for your cell phone, which you had placed on the small coffee table before falling asleep. When your fingers finally hit the small, square device and enclosed it, you breathed a sigh of relief. But the relief disappeared just as quickly and gave way to the hectic when you saw how late it already was. You had about half an hour before the supermarket would close. By car, it took you about fifteen minutes… maybe ten if you were lucky with the traffic lights.

You closed your eyes again for a short moment and thought about whether it was really worth the stress to rush off. If you were thinking about your bank account, which was already in the red, you knew that you could not afford to order food. You puffed out the air in frustration and got up from the sofa. In record time you put on your shoes and jacket and grabbed your bag before you were in your car a few minutes later. When you stopped at a red light, your fingers drummed a rhythm on the steering wheel while you kept your eyes focused on the light.

Impatient, you honked at the person in front of you when they didn’t start moving as soon as the light turned green. When you made a turn and could see the park, which was only illuminated by the moonlight and the few street lamps, you exhaled with relief. All you had to do was drive past it, take the next right before you–

The suffocated scream got stuck in your throat when you pressed your foot on the brake. Your fingers clutched firmly into the steering wheel and you tried to yank the car to the side, but then you heard the dull thud that shook your car. With screeching tires, your car came to a halt and only the roar of the engine mixed with your loud heartbeat pumping blood through your body filled your ears.

Panic rose inside you as your eyes looked out at the road ahead, hoping to see something in the light of your headlights. You hoped that you had only imagined the small, dark tuft of fur that had run in front of your car. Perhaps a hallucination due to your lack of sleep? Maybe you had also imagined the impact. You were sure you had read about it on the Internet before.

Your cramped fingers hurt when you peeled them off the steering wheel and you noticed how they trembled – you didn’t know whether it was fear or overexertion – when you tried to loosen your seat belt. It took you three attempts until the belt finally rolled back and you were able to get out of the car. Immediately, your legs buckled under you and you had to support yourself against the door. In the cold of the late evening you could see your own breath, but still you were sweating. Hesitantly you tried to look around the fender of the car, hoping to see only the asphalt there. Unfortunately, fate did not seem to be on your side tonight.

You managed to stifle a sob when you saw the dog lying in front of your car. As fast as your shaky legs carried you, you ran to the huddled figure. You scratched your knees open as you let yourself fall next to him, but you hardly felt the pain. He showed no reaction to your presence and kept his eyes firmly shut. You looked up hoping to see his owner coming out of the park. But the path to the park was empty, as were the area around you. You were completely on your own and more than overwhelmed by that.

There was nothing else you could do. Without a second thought, you slid your hands under the dog’s body and grimaced when your knuckles scraped across the asphalt. But the dull pain in your hands was immediately forgotten when the dog whimpered softly. It was as if this sound loosened your rigidity and immediately hot tears streamed down your face. You lifted him up and brought him as fast as possible to your car where you carefully laid him on the back seat.

“I’m so sorry,” you brought out between sobs before you stroked his fur briefly and took a seat behind the wheel again. You blinked away the tears, even when new ones immediately took their place, and dialed your best friend’s phone number. While it was ringing, you started the car and made your way to the practice.

“Come on, Hoseok,” you mumbled and bit your lower lip to stop your teeth from clattering. You wiped tears from your face again with the back of your hand as the road in front of you blurred and slowed down. One accident would be more than enough for today. When you heard the familiar crack of the line as Hoseok answered the call, tears of relief mixed in.

“Y/N? Why are you calling so late–”

“Hobi!” you interrupted him and you could hear the panic in your own voice. “I’m on my way to your practice. I just hit a dog and I don’t know how badly he is hurt. Oh God, he’s not moving and he was just whimpering. I don’t know what to do.” Another sob escaped you.

“Hey, hey, it’s all right,” Hoseok tried to calm you down “I’m going straight to the practice, okay? It’ll be fine, you hear?” When you didn’t answer and suppressed more sobs, Hoseok asked again, “Okay, Y/N?”

You nodded. When you realized he couldn’t see that through the phone, you answered his question and hung up. Worried, you glanced over your shoulder at the brown dog who was still taking shallow breaths and lying motionless on your back seat. “It will be all right,” you repeated Hoseok’s words. Whether you wanted to calm the dog down or yourself, you didn’t know.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

“I came as fast as I could,” Hoseok greeted you and opened the small veterinary practice. It had been his childhood dream to become a veterinarian and unlike many others in that age who had the same dream but dropped it when they’d grown older, his desire only grew stronger. Now, more than twenty years later, not only did he have nearly six years of training behind him, but he even had two employees working under him.

Tonight, however, the practice was empty and dark; hours ago, it had treated its last patient. “Lay him on here,” Hoseok said as he put on a gown and gloves and additionally disinfected his hands. Carefully you laid the dog on the hard table and a chill ran down your spine as you touched the cold metal. Immediately you wanted to pull him right into your arms again. But you knew you were here so Hoseok could help him.

“Let’s see what the little one has,” Hoseok said, more to himself than to you. You watched Hoseok palpate the dog before he pulled up his eyelids with his practiced movements and pointed a flashlight into his eyes. “He doesn’t appear to have a concussion.”

Relieved, you exhaled.

“But he seems to have broken one paw and at least one,” he palpated his torso again, “no, probably two ribs,” Hoseok finished his diagnosis for now. You wanted to throw up, so guilty you felt. “Could you hold him for a moment, just in case he suddenly moves? I’ll get the x-ray.” He looked up at you from the dog and immediately stepped towards you. “Is everything okay? Are you feeling dizzy? You look like you’re gonna faint.”

You shook your head, but which of his questions you denied you didn’t know. The tears that you had had under control ran down your cheeks again. When Hoseok saw this, he bridged the last steps to you and squeezed your shoulders tightly. “We can do this, Y/N. It’s nothing serious, I promise you. Almost daily we have people here who have hit an animal. It happens more often than you think.”

“Okay,” you answered quietly and Hoseok hurried to get the x-ray machine from the next room. Hesitantly, you stepped closer to the metal table and stretched out your hand. The dog’s fur was tattered and you even saw some bald spots where the fur was completely missing. You let Hoseok know as soon as he came back and pulled the device clattering behind him into the room.

“I know, I noticed that too. Seems like he had been living outside for a long time. At least a few months, if not more.” He plugged in the device and immediately the room was filled with the constant whirring of the lamp. “Put this on,” Hoseok said, holding out a dark blue gown. When you reached for it, you were surprised at how heavy it was. “Protects you from the radiation,” Hoseok explained, wearing the same gown and matching gloves. He pressed numerous buttons before he fixed the dog’s legs and started the machine.

It didn’t take more than ten minutes, but you were so restless that it felt like hours watching the dog lying lifeless in front of you. Hoseok turned the machine off and moved it to the side when the process was complete. Your eyes were still on the dog when he suddenly opened his eyes. Two dark orbs stared at you and you froze in place staring right back at him.

“We were lucky,” Hoseok said, and you flinched as his voice cut loudly through the oppressive silence. “His paw is only sprained, as is one of his ribs. One rib though is broken but this should heal on its own with rest and medication.”

Hoseok reached into a drawer and pulled out a small device that looked like a magnifying glass, but was made entirely of gray plastic. He moved it straight over the dog’s neck and after a few seconds he clicked his tongue in frustration. “He has no chip.”

“What does that mean?” You chewed on your lower lip and tasted the blood as one spot ripped open.

“That he has no owner, or at least we can’t find out who his owner is. The only thing I can do is check to see if a dog has been reported missing.” Hoseok began applying a bandage around the dog’s torso and, when he was finished, pressed a pack of medicine into your hand. “Three times a day, morning, noon, and in the evening. Just mix this into his food.”

Hoseok sat down at the computer and started to enter some data. Confused, you looked at the package in your hand. “What should I do with it?”

“Huh?” Hoseok asked over his shoulder.

“The medicine, what am I supposed to do with it?” You waved the little package in question in the air for him to see.

Now, Hoseok turned completely around to you. “You’re supposed to give those to him,” he answered, as if it were a matter of course.

“Hobi, I can’t take him home,” you clarified. “I have no experience with dogs. I have no food at home, no basket and no toys. And I have a job, how will that work?”

Hoseok sighed and let his head fall forward. When he looked up again, he had a mischievous smile on his lips. “He is not reported missing. If you don’t take him in, I’ll have to take him to a shelter.”

You didn’t say anything because you knew exactly what Hoseok was talking about.

“And you know what it’s like with animals that are injured. Many people shy away from taking on such an animal because of unexpected costs–”

“Yes, all right,” you interrupted your best friend and a triumphant smile spread across his face. “But I still don’t know how I’m going to manage all this,” you said with concern.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hoseok reassured you and he got up from his chair to approach you. “We have some dog food here and I’m sure I saw a toy somewhere. You can use a couple of blankets and pillows as a bedding, that’s enough for one night. And about work…” He rummaged in one of the many cupboards and took out two cans of dog food, “Didn't you say that you were going to work part-time? You have a big garden, so he can be alone for five hours. He won’t feel the need to run around much for the next few weeks anyway.”

When Hoseok told you all these things, you found it hard to say anything to him. He was right – you had a small, cozy house all to yourself, which you could never fill out alone. The garden was hidden behind the house and fenced in on all sides and you didn’t have to worry in your neighborhood anyway. You also had a secure job that brought you halfway good money…

With a smile, Hoseok handed you a small toy dog before carrying the real dog to your car. You put the two cans of dog food in the footwell and placed the toy dog right in front of the dog’s nose. Your heart began to beat faster when you watched his nose move and he picked up the scent of what were probably other dogs who had already played with the toy.

“He’s an Australian Kelpie by the way,” Hoseok said as you were about to get into your car. “Very intelligent animals and once he trusts you, very affectionate.”

You nodded. You knew what Hoseok was getting at.

You knew your best friend long enough to know that he would never forgive you if you took the dog to a shelter. But he didn’t have to worry – you felt way too guilty. You wouldn’t hit an animal and then dump him at the next opportunity in an animal shelter; out of sight, out of mind. You were not like that and you were not raised like that. You had always taken responsibility for your deeds – and also mistakes – and now would be no different.

Exhausted, you leaned back in your seat when you were on your way home. When you looked in your rear-view mirror and saw only two pointed ears, a little smile was stealing onto your face. But it fell right out of your face a second later as you turned back in shock. Indeed, the dog was no longer lying on the back seat, but had meanwhile sat up and looked at you.

“Hey, you are supposed to rest!” you scolded him as if he could understand what you were saying. “Not that you’re going to hurt yourself even more.” Anything else would have surprised you, but the dog stubbornly continued to sit and look at you. Two dark eyes watching your every move. Each of your facial features as you nervously chewed your lip or slid restlessly back and forth in your seat at a red light.

You were happy when you finally drove up your driveway to the house. “Here we are,” you told him and turned off the engine. You decided to check the damage to your car tomorrow morning before work. You didn’t know whether a visit to the repair shop was financially feasible at the moment. You doubted it when you looked at the dog behind you. It would not be cheap to buy all the necessary things for a dog. But it would be worth it for the fact that the house was no longer as quiet and deserted.

And slowly, very slowly, your guilt was replaced by another feeling; excitement.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

You had to blink a few times to get the sleep out of your eyes and get used to the sun that was shining through your window. For a brief, calm moment, everything was like twenty-four hours ago. Your thoughts had not yet caught up with you and were still hanging on to the confusing dream that slowly sank further and further into oblivion. After a few more seconds, you had completely forgotten what it had been about.

You stretched and your bones cracked. It probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to do some exercise again. But… what would be an even better idea would be a big cup of coffee and a nice breakfast. By nice, you meant a bowl of the cheap cereal that was on sale at the supermarket last week. After your first bite a few days earlier, you could imagine why it had been on sale. It was amazing that cereal could taste like cardboard, but you never stopped learning, right?

You straightened up and let your legs dangle from the bed before you put them on the floor. At least you wanted to, but instead of the cold, hard laminate floor, you stepped on something fluffy and soft.

Immediately you pulled your legs up and leaned forward to look over the edge of the bed. Right. How could you have forgotten that? It really seemed that thirty seconds after waking up you didn’t remember anything.

You let your gaze glide over the bundle of dark brown fur that had curled up into a ball and had buried its nose almost protectively under its paws. Almost as if he wanted to hide from the world.

You stretched out your hand slowly. You had such a strong need to let your fingers slide through his fur. But in the middle of your movement you paused when you saw two eyes staring right at you between his paws.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you muttered and pulled your hand back again. He had probably woken up when you almost stepped on him by mistake. You just didn’t seem to have any luck with the little four-legged friend. “Are you hungry?” you asked, hoping that he would forgive you your little mishaps with some food.

Immediately he pulled his head out from under his paws and raised his head. “You hungry?” you repeated and he tilted his head. You assumed that he still knew the word from his former owner and that he recognized it now. “Let’s go,” you said and stood up. You were careful to keep some distance between you and the dog. You didn’t know what he had experienced and if he liked physical proximity. But what you knew was that he was still watching you with a skeptical look.

You put on warm and cozy socks, which were still lying on the floor next to your bed from the previous evening, and made your way to the kitchen. When you took a bowl out of the kitchen cupboard and opened the can of dog food, your eyes fell on the dog, who was standing a few meters away and watching you. “What should I name you? I can no longer call you just dog.”

You went over some names in your head while you filled the food into the bowl. You put it on the floor and prepared your own breakfast. You didn’t have much choice anyway, so you were left with the cardboard flavoured cereal. Sighing, you pressed the button on the coffee machine and breathed in the scent that filled the room.

As you sipped from your cup, you watched the dog as he hesitantly paced towards the bowl. His nose picked up the smell of food in front of him, then he shook himself and nudged the bowl away from him. Astonished, you put the cup down on the worktop. “Don’t you like your food?”

The dog snorted and looked at you as if it was an impertinence that you even asked such a question.

“But you must eat something. I promise you, I’ll go shopping later and bring you something better. But for now, this will have to do, I’m sorry,” you explained to him. You knew he didn’t understand you, but you hoped that he could tell by the tone of your voice what you were trying to tell him.

The dog stared at you for a moment longer before making a sound that sounded almost like a sigh and he reluctantly walked towards the bowl. He sniffed at the indefinable mass once more before he hesitantly started to eat from it.

“Well, there you go,” you whispered and began to choke down your no less appetizing-looking breakfast. “And I’ll bring something for me, too. I swear, I wouldn’t be surprised if the packaging tastes better than the cereal itself,” you whispered in frustration.

When you put your empty bowl in the sink, you noticed that the dog had eaten his food too. He took a few steps back when you approached him to put the bowl away as well. Immediately you felt the lump in your throat and stopped moving. Slowly you let yourself sink into a crouch and carefully extended your hand.

His gaze was fixed on your hand, which was gripping the bowl. Just as slowly you straightened up again. You were already dreading it when you thought of the upcoming walk. How could this work when he hardly let you within a radius of less than one meter? You were surprised that he had even accepted to sleep beside you. But he probably had been too exhausted yesterday and hadn’t had the strength to move the blankets or find another place to sleep.

You supported yourself with your hands on the worktop and looked out the patio door into the garden. You could see even from a distance how the grass was covered with a blanket of fresh morning dew. The fog was still hanging in the treetops of the adjacent forest so early in the morning and it would probably take a few more hours before it disappeared.

Maybe it would be better if you only let him into the garden? At least there he would have the possibility to keep some distance to you. And that would probably also be better for his injury. Your lips were pressed into a straight line when your gaze fell on the white bandage around his one front paw and his torso.

You dispelled the guilt that was building up inside you and pushed yourself off the countertop to go to the patio door. “Would you like to get some fresh air?” You flinched at the loud noise the door made when you opened it. But the birds chirping their first songs brought a smile to your face as the sun carefully sent its rays over the trees.

You turned around to the dog, who also had his eyes on the garden. His tail swung slowly from side to side and you grinned. “Go ahead, you can go out,” you encouraged him and stepped aside so that there was enough space between you as he slowly walked towards the door. He looked at you once more before he put one of his paws first on the terrace and then followed with the other three. You watched him briefly as he explored the garden and slowly looked at the various bushes, shrubs and plants.

Your parents had always been keen on a well-tended garden. Even if it was not the biggest, it certainly offered enough work for one person. A narrow paved path divided the various flower beds from the small green area where you had always splashed in a small inflatable pool as a child. The path led to a garden gate that was built into the fence. This fence surrounded the entire garden, so you didn’t have to worry about unauthorized people entering the property or animals from the adjacent forest suddenly appearing in front of your patio door.

That’s why you checked one last time on the dog before you went into the bathroom. You wouldn’t want to be watched either during your morning business, so you gave him the few minutes of discovery and privacy. You needed the time to get ready before you had to go to the office as well.

To be honest, you often had a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach when you were on your way to work. You knew that these were probably not the best conditions for a healthy working atmosphere and that you might need to find a new job. However, that was easier said than done. The job prospects were rather bad in the small town, which was why you had been more than happy when you found this job right after your graduation.

Why exactly the job was available was something you experienced first-hand on your first day of work. You had just said introduced yourself to your new colleagues when they had already warned you about your new boss. Phrases like ‘absolute choleric’, ‘lazy bastard’ and other, far more vicious insults had been uttered even before they had told you their own names.

The fact that you had lasted so long at all was probably not very healthy for your overall well-being. But as soon as you had something new in sight, you would be gone faster than the insults of your boss yelled at you would reach you.

Almost automatically, you went back into your bedroom and put on your dark blue pinstripe pants and a plain white blouse. You looked at the crumpled up pile of blankets and pillows that you had made a makeshift bed. With a small smile and absorbed in thought, you loosened the pillows and rearranged the blankets neatly so that no bald spots formed in between and the dog had to sleep on the cold floor.

You went back into the kitchen and let your gaze wander over the various bushes in the garden and frowned. You leaned forward to catch a glimpse under the leaves of the bushes, but everything seemed quiet and your eyes didn’t notice any movement in the small rectangle.

Immediately your heart beat faster as you stepped onto the terrace and frantically continued to search the garden. “Doggie?” you asked quietly and more to yourself. “Where are you?” you asked louder this time and stepped onto the wet lawn. You felt the panic rising inside you and took quick steps towards the garden gate. You reached for the latch, but the lock was still in place. So it definitely could not have blown open or someone had stolen the dog from the garden.

Almost to tears, you turned back and flinched when the dog suddenly stood in front of you not even a meter away. “There you are!” you exclaimed in relief. You would love to bend down to him and fluff through his fur. But you held yourself back. “I was looking for you, I thought you had disappeared.”

You were almost embarrassed how weepy your voice sounded, although you had held back the tears well until now. Yet you couldn’t deny the pure relief that passed through you as he looked back at you.

“Shall we go back inside?”

When the both of you were back inside, you looked at your watch and knew that you should leave. You put another bowl of water for the dog, grabbed your bag and kept an eye out for him. This time you found him quickly. All you had to do was take a peek into your bedroom and hold back your laughter.

“Just so we’re clear,” you said gently, “this is my bed and I’m only allowing you to sleep in it today.”

He didn’t even look up, he just turned to the other side and you saw that as a clear sign to leave him alone and drive to work.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

Five hours later you stepped out of the multi-story office building and could finally breathe again. The atmosphere in the small office, where you were all squeezed together, had once again been almost unbearable. In fact, it was already so bad that you considered a working day successful when your boss had paid no attention to you at all. Most of the time he sat in his own office, which took up a good third of the entire office.

The only thing you liked about your work were your colleagues. You were a sworn team and you allied yourselves against your boss when he went crazy again. It seemed there was something to the saying that a common enemy made you friends. At least you knew that the others were always behind you when your boss yelled at you. You also knew, purely rationally, that it had nothing to do with you as a person, but that it was his fault. But that didn’t make the situations any better when you’d rather hop into your car and drive home after one of his outbursts.

But then you didn’t even have to show up the next day.

When you sat down in your car and entered the destination in your cell phone, you had to smile despite everything. At least now you had something to look forward to at home. Someone would be waiting for you; or at least you hoped he would. He still seemed to be rather sceptical about you. But you were sure that this would change with time.

You pulled into the large parking lot of the shopping mall and already saw the large pet store. You were a bit excited when you took the note out of your bag on which you had written down the essential things you had to buy today. The store was well sorted and fortunately had everything you needed.

You were a bit overwhelmed with the food you had to choose. It felt like there were hundreds of different kinds of food, fish, beef, pork… how were you supposed to know which tasted good and which didn’t?

Your eyes fell on the bottom row of the shelf, in the very corner were a few cans, which were different in color from the others. You rolled your shopping cart to the side and crouched down to read the label on the cans. But you didn’t get a chance to read the label when you heard someone clearing their throat next to you. Immediately you turned your head and looked at the employee.

He moved the glasses that were sitting on his nose and had slipped down a bit back into place and gave you a nervous smile. “Can I help you?”

Surprised, you straightened up again. “Actually, yes, I’m a little overwhelmed, to be honest.”

“I understand,” he replied sympathetically, “hybrids are very complex beings. If you don’t give them the attention they need, they can be very resentful.” He pointed to the cans in front of you and you jumped aside in surprise to make room for him.

“Wait a minute, you’re talking about a hybrid?” you began wondering.

The man had taken your position in front of the shelf and grabbed one of the cans from the shelf. “You were in front of the shelf for hybrids, I thought… I thought you had a hybrid.” His smile was gone, what remained was a confused frown.

“Oh no, no,” you made yourself clear and waved your arms wildly in front of your torso, hoping to underline your statement. “He’s an Australian Kelpie, just an ordinary dog.” You threw him a smile, hoping to make the situation a little less awkward.

“Ah, okay,” he said and put the can back in its place, “Then you’re free to choose,” he went on and made a broad arm movement to the rest of the shelf.

“You don’t have much choice for hybrids,” you noted as you glanced again over the countless cans, almost dwarfing the handful of cans for hybrids by comparison.

The employee sighed, which made you turn your attention back to him. “You don’t know much about hybrids, do you?” Your expression seemed to alarm him because he promptly added, “No offense.”

“None taken, I just didn’t think it was that obvious,” you reassured him and took the can he handed you.

“This is perfect for Australian Kelpies. Especially for puppies to strengthen their bone structure.”

“Oh, he’s not a puppy anymore. To be honest, I don’t even know how old he is. But he’s definitely full-grown.”

“Oh, I see. You adopted a dog from a shelter. That’s very commendable. Then I recommend this one,” he said and handed you another can. “I also recommend a beef or veal bone, that will keep him busy for a while. And I would supplement the food with a simple but high-quality dry food.”

“Perfect, thank you so much! I just hope he likes the food. This morning he barely wanted to eat. Almost as if he was disgusted.”

“Hm, funny,” he replied, “normally they are very easy to care for and don’t have too high demands on their food. But dogs also have different personalities, maybe you have a little diva at home.”

You laughed and lifted the heavy bag of dry food into the cart. “I hope not.”

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

One hour and a car packed with groceries for you and your new resident later, you made your way home exhausted. The horrendous amounts of money you spent today you pushed far back and out of your consciousness. If need be, you had a little something put aside that you could fall back on if the money ran out at the end of the month.

“I’m back!” you shouted into the dead quiet house as you closed the door behind you and the purchases took up the entire entrance. You climbed over the dog bed and carried the groceries into the kitchen. You stowed everything in the refrigerator and the cupboards and were just about to go back into the hallway to get the rest when your eyes fell on the sink.

Your eyebrows were drawn together as you looked at the two bowls and the spoon that were on the tray for draining. Had you washed the dishes this morning? You were convinced that you had only put them in the sink. But maybe this process was already so automated in your brain that you hadn’t even noticed it.

Without a second thought, you grabbed the dog bed and dragged it into your bedroom. Your bed was deserted, so you just quickly picked up the blankets and pillows from the floor and put the dog bed in its place instead. You looked at the position for a moment before you pushed it with your foot half a meter away from your bed. You didn’t want to make the same mistake tomorrow morning, if you were still not used to having a dog sharing your room from now on.

“Where are you?” you shouted as you left the bedroom, looking for the dog in every room on the first floor. The house was not infinitely large, so it couldn’t be that difficult to find him. You paused for a moment and listened if you could hear the paws tripping somewhere, but the house was quiet.

With careful steps you climbed up the stairs. Most of the doors were locked and you actually thought you had closed all the doors. However, one of them was ajar, so that you headed towards it. “You in here, doggie?”

Carefully you pushed the door open and the question popped into your head how he had fitted through the slit. But this thought was displaced by the feeling that spread through you when you took a look into the room behind the door.

Your father had used this room as an office and you had hardly had the time (and money) to decorate the room the way you wanted it to be. Therefore there was only a simple desk in the room, numerous shelves that you had more or less filled with your things and documents, an easel with a blank canvas on it and your mother’s old piano that she had left you when she moved out. As a child, you had taken lessons twice a week, but hadn’t played in ages now.

Right in front of this dusty piano the dog stood on his hind legs. His front paws he had supported on the cushion of the seat. “What are you doing there?” you asked laughing and the dog’s head moved around to you. He must have pulled the seat out because you were sure you had never pulled it out from under the piano.

You crouched down and hesitantly stretched out your hands. To your surprise, he pushed himself off the chair and slowly came towards you. He stopped just before you and you waited a moment longer to see if he changed his mind and backed out. But he still stood in front of you and looked at you waiting. Slowly you approached one hand to his nose and held it out to him so he could sniff it.

But he ducked away from your hand and came another step closer so that his nose almost touched your upper body when he looked up at you. “Do you want me to pet you?” you asked, your voice no more than a whisper for fear he might shy away from the sound. Of course, no answer came back, so you let your hand, which was still hovering in the air, sink slowly. Gently your fingers came into contact with the fur on his back. You knew that once you had washed him, his fur would soften. Right now it was still ruffled and dirty from the weather outside. Who knew how long the poor guy was out there on his own…

You moved your hand up and down his back for a few more seconds before you slowly straightened up so as not to frighten him. “Shall we go outside?”

Immediately, his head rushed to you and a blink of an eye later he started jumping up and down. You had to laugh. “Not so fast, not that you hurt yourself,” you warned him, but by then he was already on his way to the stairs. You only heard his paws on the wood and hurried after him. When you came downstairs, his nose was already halfway into the shopping bags that contained the cans of his dog food. With a smile, you grabbed the harness from a bag to which you attached the leash.

You were relieved that the time alone had apparently done him good and that he had warmed up a little with you in the meantime. This would make things a lot easier if you tried to put the harness on him. You called him to you and were amazed at how well he obeyed you. Whoever his former owners had been, they must have raised him well. Without resistance, he had the harness put on.

You too became a little more courageous and stroked his chin. “I have thought of a name for you in the meantime, too,” you said and he tilted his head. “There was once a children’s series about a bear who got into trouble from time to time. You also look like you like to make some trouble.” He turned his head to the other side, as if to say: Me and trouble? Never.

“Anyway, you remind me of a bear, and grizzly didn’t quite fit. So how about Paddington?”

The dog in front of you almost snorted contemptuously and your smile disappeared. You had thought about it the whole time at work and found the name fitting. “Don’t you like Paddington?” Another snort, this time followed by a shake of his whole body. “Okay, okay, all right,” you said thoughtfully. “But you look like a slightly undersized bear and I think you like Winnie the Pooh even less.” This time the dog showed no reaction at all, just stared at you from his almost black eyes. “I’m just kidding, Baby Bear,” you reassured him and immediately his head shot up. “Oh, you like that nickname?” He took a step forward and licked your hand. “But it’s just a nickname, we still have to think of a real name. But it can wait.”

You straightened up with the leash in your hand and grabbed your keys. You both left the house through the patio door and went through the garden gate towards the adjacent forest. As a small child, you had often been afraid of the dark pines and large deciduous trees, which filtered much of the daylight with their canopy of leaves. Nowadays you loved the silence that surrounded you as soon as you stepped into the forest. It felt like a different world, all the stress was forgotten for a few minutes and the noise of the city fell silent. Instead, the songs of the birds, the rustling of the leaves in the wind and the sticks cracking under your feet as you stepped on them embraced you.

And you felt even better now that you had a little four-legged friend by your side.

You watched him stop here and there to smell plants or pick up a stick to drop it a few meters later when something else caught his attention. Normally at this time, and in general in this part of the forest, you did not meet a soul. That’s why the blood froze in your veins when the dog suddenly stopped as if frozen, so you staggered back a little when the leash was stretched. You didn’t realize that he had stopped, but when you saw his expression, you knew something was wrong.

You didn’t dare to ask what it was. Even if he couldn’t answer, you wanted to draw his attention back to you. Maybe he had just smelled a rabbit or heard a noise in the distance. The fact that he pointed his tail straight back and snarled his teeth did not necessarily mean that something was wrong. Or at least that’s what you tried to tell yourself.

You backed off a few steps so that you stood behind him and you half-heartedly pulled the leash to lead him back to the house. When you turned around, you could still see the top of the roof of your house between the trees. When you turned back, you thought you saw a silhouette standing between the trees. Immediately a shiver ran through you and the hairs on your arms stood up.

“Let’s go,” you whispered, that was all you were capable of. Again you pulled on the leash, but this time the dog growled in front of you. Still he had not turned his gaze away from his intended target. But when you looked in the same direction, you couldn’t see more than the small forest path leading into the gloom of the forest. But that changed a second later when a figure stepped out of the bushes. At first you only heard the rustling of the leaves, then you saw the branches being pushed aside as a big grey wolf came towards you.

Instinctively you recoiled, you had the leash so tightly wrapped around you that your fingers hurt. You tried to pull the dog towards you, but he did not move a bit. You thought about running back to the house alone. Maybe you could call Hoseok, but even that wouldn’t help you at this moment. You didn’t want to leave the dog alone with the wolf. Maybe they would get into a fight or he would run away in front of a car of the next speeder.

No. You kept clutching the leash and trying to remember what you had read, how to react when a wolf was facing you. You were sure that the majority had assured you that wolves were so shy that they avoided humans. So why this wolf came closer and closer to you was a mystery to you. You were unsure whether you should continue to stand there as if rooted in the ground or chase him away with loud noises.

But even if you wanted to make a sound – it did not work. Not even the smallest sound came out of you. You couldn’t even breathe properly when you watched the wolf stop right in front of you. His gaze lay on your dog and the two of them seemed to be having a staring contest. Whether this was a good sign or meant that they would start attacking at any moment, you did not know. But you were sure that you would find out at any moment.

The wolf gave a deep growl of itself, which went through your marrow and leg and you had to suppress a shiver. Your dog also gave another growl and he took a confident step forward. You were pulled along and gave a choked gasp of fear. This did not go unheard by the two animals in front of you and suddenly the attention of the wolf was on you.

You dodged his gaze and turned your head to the side, hoping to turn his attention away from you as quickly as possible. You flinched as your dog growled again, this time louder and slowly backed away. You took this as an unspoken invitation to imitate him and to go backwards as well. Step by step you brought more and more distance between you and the wolf, which turned around after a few steps and disappeared back into the forest.

You ran as fast as your feet carried you back to the house. Startled, you cried out when you almost ran over a rabbit, which hopped back into the bushes. But you had no room in you to feel guilty. Too great was the fear inside you. You could only exhale with relief when you had closed and locked both the garden gate and the patio door behind you. But for the rest of the afternoon and evening you felt as if the inhabitants of the forest were watching you and the tops of the trees gently swaying in the wind were laughing at your naivety.

#taehyung x reader #dog hybrid!taehyung #hybrid!taehyung x reader #bts smut #bts angst #bts hybrid au #bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub #hybridbtsnetwork #hybrid taehyung x reader #bts fanfic

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cobaincreates · 3 years

Text

the fuck is a touron? pt. 2

warnings: language, mention of drugs & alcohol, smut (wrap it you're smart), very brief oral (male receiving), 18+

count: 9k+

part one is here! i hope you enjoy this as much as i did writing it! also remember when i said this has been sitting for a couple months?? welp, it’s been longer than that...oops. but it's all yours now!!! :)

taglist is always open. have a lovely weekend! photo cred

— — —

3 weeks earlier

a loud blare jolted you awake.

“what the fuck?”

you scrambled to stop the noise, your heart nearly jumping out of your chest. your head knocked into something hard as you twisted and tried to assemble your brain.

a clatter of what sounded like several bottles came from your right. the sound still rang out into the room—which was where exactly?

as you got to your hands and knees and shuffled against what felt like carpet, you remembered vaguely that you’d gone out last night. the carpet and dark room didn’t tell you much else. but the trilling alarm was enough to set you into a search to find that out.

“shut that off!” a voice yelled from behind you.

your hand knocked into more bottles and you grappled for one, feeling the familiar shape of a glass beer bottle. someone groaned in front of you then a blinding light pierced across your eyes. you sucked in a breath, dropping the bottle and covering your eyes.

what, were you a vampire? you peeked past your fingers to a parted curtain letting in a sliver of sunlight. you saw a little more of where you’d been, the light trail full of bottles and some sprawled legs and arms.

the alarm cut off suddenly. soft snores and labored breaths filled the silence now, along with a pounding in your ears so intense, you would’ve thought you were still hearing the alarm. a slow, gradual ache formed in the center of your forehead.

you blinked as your eyes adjusted to the light. a sparkling stiletto caught your attention, but it wasn’t on a foot. you looked around the room and spotted its twin near the back of a couch. crawling over, you found liza laying on her back with her hair messily splayed around her.

she was yawning while her phone lit up her face in a soft glow. when your eyes met, she whispered, “hey.”

you faintly remembered her setting an alarm on her phone somewhere in between jell-o shots and body shots. or was it after the jäger bombs?

you let out an oomf as you collapsed beside her on your stomach. your head didn’t let up the pounding. you made a noise, your words muffled against the stale-smelling carpet.

“what?” liza said, not having heard any coherent words.

you turned your head, the carpet scratching your cheek. “i said, nurse me back to health, please.”

“i told you not to do those lines,” she said, shaking her head.

“what?” you said a little too loudly, earning a few shh!s in return.

“i’m kidding,” liza laughed.

you grimaced, mostly at her but also at the hair in your mouth. you reached up to remove it and sat up while liza looked at her phone.

“what time is it?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder around the room.

no one else had moved from liza’s wake-up alarm. your vision was clearer now and you took in the trashed room. bottles lay everywhere, a few staining the carpet in dark puddles. a lamp was on the floor, its shade across the room over someone’s head. it was warm considering the blackout curtains keeping the morning sun out and you couldn’t imagine sleeping in here any longer.

your head pounded again as liza said, “noon.”

“can we go? i might throw up from how hot it is in here.” you pulled at your dress, wanting nothing more than to get under some cold water.

liza sat up and looked around, dropping her phone into her lap. “i need my other shoe.”

“it’s over here,” you said and crawled to retrieve it for her.

she put it on, her dress riding up her thighs before she stood and pulled it back down. you took her offered hand so she could help you up. your heels sank into the carpet and you looked down, finding a soggy spot where beer had seeped in. you frowned and grabbed ahold of liza’s arm to find your way out.

your small crossbody clutch was resting on the couch cushion and you reached for it over a girl’s sleeping form, careful not to wake her. she made a small noise and you snatched it quickly, feeling the weight of your phone inside.

liza ordered an uber to bring you back to campus. it was fifteen minutes away and you panicked for a brief moment from not knowing where the hell you were. last night was a whole blur apart from arriving and getting into the swing of things. you remember dancing and drinking and having fun with liza and a few other friends. it wasn’t usual for you to sleep at random people’s houses after parties, but last night must have been a little more eventful than others.

you let out a long breath you didn’t know you were holding as you sank into the back of the uber driver’s car. luckily, you didn’t get someone hopped up on coffee or blasting music. it was quiet and calm, enough so that you closed your eyes.

speaking of coffee, you could really use one. and food. and a shower. had you really slept on that nasty carpet last night? you shuddered and opened your eyes.

fishing out your phone from your clutch, you saw a few notifications from last night and the past few hours. you ignored them for now and unlocked your phone with the goal of texting one of your friends who worked at the diner in town and begging him to have your usual ready when you got there. it was all you could think about as your stomach rumbled.

but when you unlocked your phone, your eyebrows drew together. your screen opened to an internet tab, a little plane logo at the top corner.

“why the fuck did i buy a ticket to the outer banks?” you blurted to no one in particular. well, maybe to your friend beside you, who lived in the outer banks.

liza lolled her head toward you on the back of the seat, not at all looking as concerned as you felt. “you’re visiting, remember? i talked you into buying it last night.”

“why?” your head seemed to throb even worse.

you couldn’t go to the outer banks. you didn’t have the money for it and the ticket on your internet browser said you’d even bought a round trip one. god, why had you done that? you were saving up for the summer. you were saving up to see so much more than the outer banks. as much as you loved liza, and you knew she’d love to have you there, you would be wasting a weekend. how were you going to tell your boss that you needed off at such short notice?

liza shrugged beside you. “because my dad will be gone for a whole weekend and i’m throwing the biggest party ever and you love me and you promised to dance to ‘back that ass up’ with me there.”

“oh my god,” you groaned and dropped your phone into your lap. you rubbed your pulsing temples. “i can’t go, liza. i really need the money.”

“hence why you have a job—said job will pay that back in a week. you’re fine,” she waved her hand and turned back to the window.

“i need to work that weekend,” you argued. just thinking about asking for it off had your skin crawling.

“you can take time off. you never do.” liza shrugged, looking at you again. her face softened when she noticed how distraught you were over it. “look, if you really don’t want to, then just cancel it. it’s okay if you don’t come.”

your fingers came away from your head as you saw that she was being genuine. she may have joked around with you a lot, but she meant it when she said that.

friday

getting time off wasn’t easy. your boss acted like the ultimate villain in a boss level from a video game, having you go through all of these obstacles just to get three days off. you understood it, you were short-staffed anyways and it was hard, but you couldn’t help feeling as though they were a little harsh on you. it was always a fight to get time off, even when you showed up every day, on time, and did your work without complaint.

right after you talked to your boss, feeling the ultimate amount of shame over requesting three days, you searched high and low for someone to cover your shift. turns out, it wasn’t all that difficult to begin with since one of your co-workers—who just had a baby and was still a full-time student—told you they’d appreciate the extra hours. you felt instantly better afterward until your boss asked you to fill out three separate sheets for the time off. no, you couldn’t just write the three days on one sheet. it had to be three. separate. sheets.

it was completely ridiculous and uncalled for. you fumed for a while, pressing way too hard on your pen as you filled them out. once you set them on their desk, all filled out properly, you reminded yourself you could quit soon. just a few more months of the semester and you’d be gone.

the next day when you came in, your boss had allegedly lost those request papers. and funnily enough, they allowed you to put the weekend dates on one paper this time. you’d stared at them for a whole three minutes, paper in your hand and tongue between your teeth with angry words just dying to get out. you can quit soon. you can quit soon.

the weeks dragged by before the day finally arrived and you left for your flight. it was only when you got off the plane that the hours started to fly by. it was colder this time around, which you didn’t mind, even on the breezy ferry ride. you were looking forward to campfires and cozy sweaters.

you hopped off the ferry around noon and right into liza’s waiting arms at the dock. she was overjoyed about you visiting and you knew all the trouble with work was worth it just to get away for a little. you were young, there was no shame in a little time off, and liza was right—you’d already earned the money back for the ticket.

liza’s dad was bustling around their house when you arrived, packing like a crazy person on a time crunch. he threw a hello at you as he shuffled past with an armful of socks and possibly underwear, which had you lifting an eyebrow at liza. she shoved your arm and took your bag into the guest bedroom.

“where’s your dad running off to? can i go?” you teased, dropping your backpack onto the light green comforter. the white walls seemed brighter this time, but you accounted it for the new sheer curtains over the windows facing the back of the house.

“he’s going on a business trip. and no, you can’t. his girlfriend is going with him.” liza left your bag near the dresser and hopped on the bed, the comforter sighing under her weight.

“girlfriend? aw, man.” you frowned dramatically and lay on your stomach beside her. “do we like this girlfriend?”

“she’s very...” her left eye squinted as she thought. “eccentric. like, i don’t know how to take it. he seems happy though.”

“like, weird eccentric or crazy eccentric?”

“i don’t know. i haven’t breached the abortion topic with her yet. that could be very telling, don’t you think?” a playful smile hinted at her lips.

“totally telling,” you agreed.

minutes later, you were waving liza’s dad off as he pulled out of the driveway, liza standing a few steps in front of you. once he was gone and out of sight down the drive, liza turned back to you with a flourish and a cheshire grin spread on her face. you laughed as she pushed you into the house and began jumping excitedly. music started playing somewhere in between the jumping, which promptly turned to dancing in the kitchen. having a whole house to yourselves was always a thrilling thing.

it wasn’t long after that that liza told you to get ready for a party at the boneyard, as she called it. you had no idea whether to take that literally or just go along with it and be surprised. you went with the latter as you changed out of your airport clothes.

as you were heading that way, you thought about that one fling you had the last time you were here. what was his name? something rich, with a t. tom? trenton? no, no, something obscure. topper. god, you nearly forgot about him, but now that you were visiting again, you wondered if he was around. in the middle of the semester seemed like your luck would be out.

liza was slowing the car as you thought to text topper, just to see if he was here. you hadn’t talked since that summer—what was it? seven months ago? you hadn’t felt the need to keep in touch. didn’t he say to shoot him a text when you were in town again? you supposed there was no harm in doing so. what could be the worst thing to happen? maybe he wouldn’t be in town, but you wouldn’t be all that bummed about not having a hookup. you weren’t as ravenous as you were in the summer.

“are you getting out?”

your head turned and you found liza standing with the door open, her keys dangling from her hand. you hadn’t noticed that the car had parked or that you’d arrived at wherever the boneyard was. the beach was right in front of you, just over a small crest in the sand. you could smell it slipping into the car from where liza held the door propped open.

you opened your own door and hopped out, the gravel crunching under your shoes. you were glad you opted for a sweater with the early spring wind from the water as it blew over your shoulders and tangled into your hair.

a handful of people were already on the beach, stripped driftwood scattered around. most used them as seats while there was a fire already going and drinks in their hands. you couldn’t help but smile at the sight, a giddiness filling your chest. this was exactly what you needed and the perfect setting for it.

liza pulled you into a group with some familiar faces that you had met the last time around. small talk was immediately flowing and you couldn’t care less for it, but you welcomed it anyways. liza was quick to guide you to the next group and the next before you finally got comfortable with a drink in hand. you sipped it steadily and ditched your shoes with liza’s, sticking them under a piece of driftwood behind where you stood. one of liza’s friends was asking you about your degree, something along the lines of why you had chosen it. you couldn’t comprehend it fully as your eyes drifted around the sand where people stood in small groups and larger ones.

standing near an overturned lifeguard post that was sure to be rotting away was none other than topper. he was facing away from you, but you had no doubt in your mind that it was him. his hair was blonder than it was when you met, funnily enough in the colder months. he wore a sweatshirt (blue or dark green, you couldn’t tell) paired with shorts and (surprisingly) sneakers.

you turned back to liza’s friend, giving them a somewhat vague but good answer. you then excused yourself and split from the group to head in topper’s direction. you stopped just outside of his larger group and crossed your arms, holding on to your beer by the neck loosely. it took a minute or two for topper to notice you, obviously feeling a presence behind him and doing a double-take. you already had a smirk on your face.

“holy shit, hi.” he blinked rapidly, turning away from his friends.

“hi,” you laughed. both of you went in for a hug at the same time. topper pressed your waist firmly to his while you hugged him around his shoulders.

“it’s good to see you,” you said.

“yeah, you too.” there was surprise in his voice and features as if he never thought he would see you again. your hand slipped down his arm as you pulled away before you took a step back, your hands resting at your sides.

“how have—“

“hey! the touron’s back!” a voice over his shoulder shouted.

you looked in its direction, finding a menacing smirk on an all too familiar face. you couldn’t remember his name as he sipped arrogantly on a beer, perched on the rotting lifeguard’s post.

you found your own sweet smile and raised your free hand to flip him off, which only egged him on more as his laughter filtered out. you were instantly annoyed, although you didn’t show it as he had brought unwanted attention to you and topper. you were sure most of the people in this larger group had been on topper’s deck that day in the summer.

topper looked at a loss for words when you turned back to him, his eyes still on you. you were glad he wasn’t laughing at his friend’s comment.

“can i get you another drink?” he gestured to the bottle between your fingers and you glanced down, seeing that it was a sip away from empty.

you gave him a nod as you said, “sure.”

the sun was setting by the time you got a refill, the glass cold against your palm, and wandered off with topper toward the water. conversation flowed as you caught up, shrugging as you told him all you had been doing was working and studying. you were lucky if you got to go out and have fun once in a while. topper expressed the same, talking animatedly about college and visiting home for the weekend to see his friends.

you wondered what he was like at college, if he spent most of his quieter hours in the library reading articles or if he was the type of friend to take up guard in the kitchen at parties. it was easy to imagine him in those situations since you hardly knew him. his smirking friend certainly didn’t seem the type.

you flicked some wet sand into the water, imagining the waves bringing it back to settle at your feet. topper stood beside you, the wind tousling his locks. you had just mentioned how your mother had bought a new coffee machine and how your dad canceled it because there was no point in having two. your mother just figured it would be easier having two so no one had to wait on the single-cup brewing system. it made you laugh and roll your eyes when you heard about it over the phone. topper had been smiling the whole time as he listened, his head inclined like you were whispering.

a rush of heat had slithered down between your thighs when you caught his eyes a couple times. he was just watching you as you spoke and you couldn’t help but smile flirtatiously, wondering if he was thinking what you were thinking.

how you were imagining last summer and the feel of his hands on your skin. you wished you’d gotten to know more of him; if he had any scars or little beauty marks that you didn’t notice the first time. it was easy to imagine it, but you had the burning curiosity to see for yourself.

you needed to take a break, to get a gulp of air before you drowned in the thought and jumped his bones right here and now.

“i should go find liza,” you said abruptly even though no one had been speaking. “i’ll see you around?”

topper nodded without a word and you caught a glimpse of confusion on his face, but you walked away. you let out a deep breath as you felt the wet sand turn dry under your feet. the sky was an inky pink behind you, windshields on cars reflecting it back.

you wrapped an arm around liza when you found her and she smiled knowingly. you didn’t have to ask if she’d seen you with topper, it was quite obvious in such an open area.

topper took up his place with the group you took him away from, but this time he was facing your way. you closed your lips around your bottle, staring back at him as he did the same thing. a shiver went up your legs, goosebumps exposing to the crisp air around you. you had to look away before you walked over there and kissed the hell out of him. your heart was behaving rather poorly now.

but could you help it? every time he looked at you as the sky grew darker and the bonfire grew larger, every obscene image possible took shelter behind your eyes. your mouth dried out so many times that you eventually had to get another drink and another. topper wasn’t making it easy and you started digging holes with your feet just to stay put.

you wouldn’t go to him, you made that very clear to yourself. if topper wanted you, then he’d have to make the first move. stubborn as it was maybe, but you’d torture him if you had to like he was torturing you now with all of these looks under his lashes. christ.

“my god,” liza said into your ear as she stood on the driftwood behind you, arms around your neck. “you’d think topper was a starving man.”

“shut up,” you laughed and looked at a fallen log in the fire pit.

“i’m serious. you guys have been undressing each other for an hour and a half now. just go over there and make out with him.”

you smiled into your drink, keeping your eyes far away from topper, or else you might actually do just that.

“there’s hardly any pda going on as it is, we need entertainment,” liza sighed.

“there’s your entertainment,” you nodded your head toward a rowdy group of young high schoolers shouting at each other. three of them looked angry as all hell and there was a bit of shoving before one of the older college boys broke it apart.

“that was short-lived,” liza frowned as she hopped down from the driftwood.

“you want another drink?” you asked her as she finished off her last one.

“yes, please!” she beamed as you took her bottle and tossed them into a nearby trash bin. you headed for the stocked cooler and grabbed two beers. as you stood, topper was making his way over.

“you have any plans after this?” he asked without much preamble.

you smiled, pulling the tops off and taking a sip from your own, eyeing him as you did. that flicker of heat made its way back between your thighs, warming you all over. you couldn’t deny the suggestion in his question excited you and you were giving yourself a mental pat on the back for being patient.

“nope, i’m all yours.”

topper smiled slowly, his eyes flicking to your lips as you licked them. okay, maybe jumping his bones here and now wasn’t a terrible idea. but you needed to string this out, you wanted it to last—whatever it was.

“i don’t want to leave yet though. i’ll come find you?” it implied that you’d make him wait longer than you really would, but it was satisfying to see him practically drool at the thought of what was to come.

liza was giddy when you went back over, either for the beer or when you told her that you’d be going off with topper for a little. she smirked, knowing exactly what for, but she didn’t mind. she wasn’t leaving anytime soon, and not without you.

you didn’t make topper wait long. when you were ready, another beer in and a relieved bladder, you touched topper’s elbow as he talked with his friends closer to the cooler. the ice was partly melted, but there were still plenty of drinks left. the fire was feeding off sweltering heat, and with the cold wind, it was perfect.

“hey, you ready?” you asked when topper turned to you.

you weren’t sure exactly what topper had in mind when he had asked you if you were busy for the rest of the night, but not having a clue thrilled you a little.

“yeah,” he nodded and took the last sip from his beer. his slid his hand up, capturing yours before tugging you along toward the parked cars. hardly anyone was over there. you could faintly hear voices and sounds from inside a few cars, some windows cracked. your fingertips warmed as your heart beat, pushing blood to every corner.

topper’s jeep came in sight and you tried to remember the inside. was there enough room for both of you in the back seat? or maybe you’d share one of the front ones. it didn’t matter to you, as long as he put his lips to use.

your back met the side of the jeep as topper leaned his hands on the window, caging you in. you were quick to close the space between you, either the beer taking the reins or your lack of patience from the past few hours of being here and having a staring contest with him. your breaths mingled and your hands grabbed fistfuls of his sweatshirt to pull him closer. the familiar tingles spread between your thighs and you wasted no time in showing him how impatient you were.

“i don’t think either of us is fit enough to drive, topper,” you breathed when you had the chance.

there was no way you could drive with everything you drank. topper tasted like the beer too, but you weren’t sure if he was fit enough to drive either. you didn’t want to chance it, nor could you wait that long.

“what do you want to do?” he asked against the skin of your neck, his nose skimming up the side. he pressed a few kisses, getting closer to your jaw.

you tilted your head back against the door and sighed, closing your eyes momentarily then opening them to find a few stars winking at you. there were so many once you focused on them. topper interrupted your gaze, pulling you by the back of your head to his lips. he kissed you as if you were his last meal, his tongue licking into your mouth. you moaned, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his hair. you remembered him being this much of a good kisser.

“let’s find a spot on the beach,” you suggested, only getting a kiss on the corner of his mouth before he pulled away.

his eyes were blown wide, his hair ruffled. if you looked hard enough, his cheeks were sure to be flushed, both from alcohol and excitement.

“seriously?” he asked, his hand stilling on the back of your head.

you laughed and nodded, brushing a lock of his hair. “yeah, why not?”

a cold wind blew, tossing your hair into your eyes. topper caught it and pushed it back to its spot behind your ear.

“i think you’re the girl of my dreams,” he joked.

you grinned and slid your hands down his chest. “do you have a towel?”

topper had to pick his jaw up off the gravel before he finally moved away from you and opened his jeep. he ruffled around in the back then finally pulled out a blanket.

“very resourceful,” you commented as he closed the door.

“never know when you might need it,” he said as he threw it around you, shielding your bare legs from the wind. he turned again to the jeep and bent over the driver’s seat to get something. you saw it was a condom when he turned back and closed the door.

“also resourceful.”

he laughed then took your hand back in his. you headed back toward the beach but in the opposite direction of where the bonfire was. it was quieter the further you got, nothing but the waves coming into the shore. it was darker too; all the more private.

topper took the blanket from you and settled it down. you took a seat as he fixed a corner, swiping sand that had gotten on to it. once he sat beside you, he pulled you back against his lips.

you knelt up and scooted closer, placing your hands on his shoulders for leverage as you swung a leg over his waist. you sat in his lap and hummed as you felt him against your thigh. he squeezed you closer in response.

“i’ve never fucked someone on a beach before,” you admitted as you slipped your hands under his sweatshirt and the t-shirt beneath, pushing them up.

“i’ve never fucked anyone outside before.”

“what?” you pulled away to look down at him, your hands freezing on his chest. he was breathing deeply and you swore you felt the patter of his heart against your fingertips. “really?”

“yeah,” he shrugged and glanced over your shoulder toward the water. “just never had the chance to try.”

“what do you mean? you live on an island.” you let his clothes fall back down, stopping above his belly button. “i’ve been here twice and i’ve seen at least twenty ideal places that would be perfect for it.”

“i don’t know, i never asked anyone and no one asked me.” he shrugged again and you knew you were looking way too into this, but it seemed impossible that he hadn’t done this at least once before. you knew that if you lived here, you would’ve done it countless times.

your hands slid back up. “well, tonight’s your lucky night.”

you pulled topper back to your lips, tongues meeting. his hands rubbed along your back and you couldn’t help but arch into him as he slipped them beneath your sweater. his hands were so warm that it felt as if he set fire to your skin. you moaned and sunk your teeth into his lip briefly. a shiver wrecked your body just as topper’s hands came around to your front, sliding up to your breasts. you felt your nipples peek at the contact and topper made it even worse when his thumbs brushed over them.

“christ, it’s cold,” you mumbled as another shiver came and went.

“mhmm,” he hummed. “i’m sure that’s what it is.”

you laughed and wanted to swat at him. instead, you swallowed that little bit of nerves edging close to the surface and reached a hand to his lap. you watched as topper’s lips parted as your hand squeezed him over his shorts. the fabric was soft as topper grew harder. you relished in his expression, the way his eyebrows were drawn together, and how his jaw flinched when he closed his mouth.

topper’s hands fell away as you stood. he looked ready to pull you back down until he realized what you were doing and watched closely as you pulled your shorts and underwear down together. you kicked them aside and shivered as another wind blew.

sitting over topper again, you knelt up onto your knees to pull his shorts down. you couldn’t help swallowing at the sight of him. as dark as it was, you could still see him pretty well. your hand wrapped around him, solid and warm in your palm. topper groaned and leaned back on his hands.

“where’s the condom?” you asked as you stroked him, not at all in a rush with your hand around him.

topper registered your question and patted around the blanket for a moment before holding a square packet between his fingers. you took it from him and bit down on an edge, ripping it open with your free hand. you took the rubber between your fingers and spat the packaging somewhere. topper’s breathing became swallow all the while you stroked him. you stopped and rolled the condom onto him then leaned forward for a kiss.

topper reciprocated, his hands grabbing ahold of your hips until he pulled away to look up at you.

“what if you get sand in your vagina?” he asked, an innocent tone wrapping around his voice.

you couldn’t help the smile or the way your eyebrows furrowed all the while wanting to laugh. that’s what he’s thinking about?

“nothing that hasn’t happened before. it usually takes a couple of days to get rid of but i’ll be fine.”

the topic didn’t stop there. “does it hurt?”

“no, i’ll be fine,” a small laugh slipped out. “that’s why we have a blanket. and i’m on top. can we stop talking about sand getting in my vagina now? it’s kind of killing the mood.”

“sorry,” he shook his head, an embarrassed expression taking form.

you snorted, laughter bubbling up your throat. how did that question even come about in his head? you supposed it was nice of him to care about such a thing. you hoped your laughter didn’t make him feel more embarrassed.

his expression morphed into an amused one and he joined in, laughing at his odd question. you both shook with laughter for a few moments until you calmed down. topper squeezed his fingers on your hips, dragging his palms down your thighs. you brought your lips back to his and your hands to his chest. pushing him gently, you went with him as he lay down. you stayed against him for a couple more seconds before sitting up over him and finding him in your hand again.

topper groaned and gripped your thighs as you brought him into your heat. you couldn’t find your breath as you took him all the way in and sat over him, feeling completely and utterly filled. he was in your stomach, under your skin, everywhere.

“fuck, yes,” you panted, branding your palms on his stomach, pushing his sweatshirt and shirt up again. he was flushed from head to toe, something you were slowly building up to be.

you started off rocking back and forth slowly, feeling him pull and glide inside of you. when you dragged your clit against his skin, which was getting hotter and hotter with the friction, you couldn’t help the way your body tightened around him.

“y/n. oh, fuck—you gotta bounce for me,” topper choked out underneath you, moving his hands to your waist to grip tightly.

you nodded without words, not really finding any with your tongue tied. your hands pushed against his stomach as you lifted yourself up, letting almost all of him leave you empty. then you slammed down, moaning as loud as you could. you didn’t care. not one bit. you were still aware of the bonfire happening yards away, but you didn’t care if someone from the party was walking this way and heard you. let them hear how good topper felt inside you.

a quicker pace was set, sweat building in the creases of your knees and under your hands planted against topper. you loved this. all you could think about was how good it felt, how you fucked topper hard and fast—and how you were getting to fuck him again. it was so much better than the first time, even though you loved having him behind you then. this was just as good.

topper was sitting up again, your sweater rubbing against his and your body feeling way too hot. his hands gripped your ass tightly, helping you rock your hips over him. you were close, closer every time your clit brushed against him at this angle.

it became too much very quickly. you held on to him by his hair at the back of his head, gripping so tightly your knuckles were probably white, and reached your other hand down to touch yourself. your moans were growing higher and more frequent and topper was full-blown panting in your face. when you reached your end, a strangled sound came out of you. you stilled over topper, pulling more of his hair as you came over him.

not long after when you were moving again over him, your mouth on his neck and arms around his shoulders, his grip tightened on your ass as he came. you hummed and gave a few pecks just before he let go and fell onto his back. you followed, moving off of him and laying on your side.

“how long are you here?” topper asked minutes later, his breathing leveling out.

“i leave sunday morning,” you said, blinking tired eyes open as a wind blew over you.

“can i see you again?”

you smiled, your eyes shifting to topper beside you. “don’t you mean can you fuck me again?”

his lips spread wide and if his eyes were open, you had a feeling he’d be rolling them. laughing, you pushed yourself onto your elbow and touched his cheek.

“liza is having a party tomorrow. you should come,” you said quietly, leaning down to brush your lips over his.

“okay.”

“that was easy.”

“it doesn’t take much to convince me,” his voice was tired, piquing your interest.

“am i that good?”

all you got in return was a low laugh.

“i’m taking that as a ‘hell yes’ so thank you very much.”

topper let out a noise just before he moved, pushing you onto your back. his lips landed over yours, gentle and thorough.

saturday

it was a blur of drinks and games and dancing at liza’s house. every room was filled and it was hot for a few hours until you stationed yourself out on the deck with topper. you could lie and say that you didn’t sit out there just to make out with him, but that’s exactly what you did. it was perfect—even more perfect when his shitty friends didn’t show up with him. if you hadn’t been so distracted by his mouth, you would’ve thanked him then and there.

hours later, you had met topper at the front door. you informed liza of your new plans and she was more than happy to get you out of her hair, especially when her eyes latched on to someone and she started to drool into her drink. you grinned fiendishly at her and quickly went on your way.

topper was unlocking his front door and your legs were still a little tingly from the drinks you had over the past few hours. your hand absentmindedly ran along his forearm, needing to feel him so you could stay grounded and alert.

“if you don’t open this door, i’m going to fall asleep right on this porch.”

topper laughed, his keys jingling in his hand. it was a few more seconds of him trying without a light until he eventually found the keyhole and the door swung open. there was a rug that the bottom of the door brushed over and topper walked ahead of you, leading you in by the arm you refused to let go of. he was warm and solid. if you let go, you might evaporate.

your eyes adjusted with the lack of light in the entryway as topper closed the door behind you, sliding the lock into place. your skin felt like it was humming, the hairs on your arm standing up as you stayed close to topper. his shoes scuffed as he kicked them off, his keys dropping onto a table near the door while his other hand wrapped around your wrist. he lured you in by heat alone and you leaned in. your lips landed on his shirt, but you moved them until you found warm skin past the neckline.

reaching down, you found the strap of your sandals and worked to get them undone. why you wore sandals was completely lost on you as you struggled. topper grabbed ahold of you so you wouldn’t fall while your lips pressed a few more kisses into his neck. his hands were searing against your shirt and your skin pricked with the need to have them everywhere.

you kicked off your shoes, feeling your bare foot brush other pairs as topper grabbed ahold of your neck. you didn’t know where he was leading you until his lips landed against your cheek. he adjusted to where he meant to land and opened your lips with his own, coaxing your tongue with his. you moaned as if you were melting, your hands moving along his back as your body relaxed into his. another noise slipped from you, your hands moving down to his hips. one of them you let venture further until you felt him straining against his jeans.

topper gasped, his breath fanning over your mouth and down your neck. you grinned as you squeezed him just so you could see how he’d react.

it was cut short by light flooding the room and burning behind your eyelids. you flinched, parting from topper and squinting.

you were doing so well with no interruptions.

“topper? oh—i’m sorry,” a voice came from your left and you held your eyes open long enough to see a woman standing there, her hand falling from the light switch.

you suddenly remembered where you were holding topper and you dropped your hand, a hot blush crawling up onto your cheeks. you shuffled away from topper faster than he did at composing himself. was it wishful thinking to hope this woman didn’t see where your hand was placed a second ago?

“mom,” topper breathed, hiding his lack of breath well. your own heart was beating so loudly in your ears you figured the woman could hear it too in the entryway.

you averted your eyes, embarrassment dousing you from head to toe at the fact that you’d been caught by topper’s mother.

“we’ll be in my room,” topper said. his hand engulfed yours and you couldn’t remember how to use your feet or legs. “night.”

you kept your head down as topper tugged you past his mother, her robe flowing with the movement. he guided you through the unlit house until you came to his room.

“christ,” he sighed and dropped your hand to close the door. “i’m sorry about that.”

“it’s inevitable when you live with parents,” you shrugged and laughed, looking over your shoulder as topper rubbed his hands down his face. when he dropped them, he shook his head with an amused smile.

you turned back to his room and glanced around, the light a little brighter from the open windows. the decorations were the same, but for the most part it didn’t look all that lived in. you moved to his bed and sat at the end of it, running your hands along the comforter and remembering the last time you were here.

your eyes found topper’s like a magnet. your skin pricked with that awareness of him. reaching, you pulled your shirt off and let it fall beside you. topper watched, his eyes following every movement you made, his gaze moving over you like liquid.

you held your hand out towards him, coaxing him over where you sat. he approached until he was in front of you and even then, you pulled him closer with your hands on his hips again. your eyes fluttered shut as he came between your legs and touched your face, bending down to plant kisses on your forehead, cheeks, and nose. your thighs tightened around him, your hand dropping back to its original spot before you were interrupted. topper kissed you on the mouth then, his tongue hot and invading.

you pushed your palm into him a few times and rubbed until his breath was heavy in your mouth. even though you were kissing him and delighting in the ways he could use his tongue, your mouth felt dry for him. a moment later, your fingers glided up to the button of his jeans, working determinedly to unfasten them.

when his shirt was off and his jeans were unbuttoned, you nudged him backward, slipping from the bed and onto your knees. you pressed your lips along his stomach, feeling it tighten under your mouth as his hands brushed your hair back.

“tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” you said quietly, looking up at him as your fingers fisted the waistband of his jeans, slipping into his boxers too.

topper heaved a breath and nodded. you pressed another kiss just beside his belly button as you tugged on his bottoms, pulling them past his hips and leaving them to rest just above his knees.

you didn’t waste any more time. you took him into your mouth within the first few seconds of him smacking his stomach. he moaned with your lips around him and held your face as you licked him thoroughly. you couldn’t stop once you started and it took everything in you not to give him that release as his hand tightened on your face and his hips began to move.

he didn’t protest or get upset when you pulled away, licking your lips and standing. he just kissed you deeply and you wondered if he liked the taste of himself in your mouth. you certainly did.

all of your blood was gathered at your center. your skin was bubbling to a boil and topper helped you cool down, shedding the rest of the clothes between you. your hands wandered all over him as you sat back on the bed, pulling him with you.

you separated for only a second to kiss just under his ear, panting, “i want you inside me. now. i have an IUD.”

topper’s hands paused, his fingertips brushing the underside of your breast. “no condom?” he asked, pulling away further to meet your eyes.

you nodded, biting your lip to keep from putting him inside you now. “as long as you’re okay with it?”

“are you sure?” his eyebrows furrowed and you couldn’t tell if he was worried about you or if he really didn’t want to.

you nodded again as you were having trouble finding words without your breath. “have you been tested lately?”

“before i came home. i’m clean,” he said, his hands moving again and squeezing your thighs.

you grinned as your stomach rolled. you pulled him back to you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and smiling against his lips. “me too,” you managed to say and laughed as the excitement poured over.

topper’s skin suddenly felt too hot, but you couldn’t pull your hands away from him if you tried. more blood rushed in between your legs. topper kissed you a few times before pulling away and leaning forward, his hand moving to your lower back to hold you upright while his other landed on the comforter to hold himself up. you drew your legs up around him and tugged him closer, breathing heavily as you anticipated his next move.

he swallowed thickly and averted his eyes down, his hand leaving your skin to grab ahold of himself. you bit your lip as you watched, seeing him swollen and ready and practically dripping. your stomach rolled into a tight ball as his hips grew closer and you bit your lips shut as a noise of surprise left you, floating around the room, when topper dragged his head along your folds painstakingly slow.

as much as you wanted to close your eyes to completely let your senses take over, you lifted them to topper’s face. he closed his eyes as he poked his head at your entrance. when he started to slip inside slowly, his mouth opened and his hand went back to hold you. you held your breath as you felt him inch after inch, filling you and stretching you.

his head fell to your shoulder once he was completely inside, a muffled curse leaving his lips.

“oh my god,” you said at the same time as he said, “god, you feel amazing.”

his hips retracted slowly, just as slow as how he entered, and his lips guided back to yours.

“c-can you move back a little?” he asked. the angle was probably straining him unlike you.

you nodded and didn’t have to do all that much as his hand kept you close to him, keeping himself inside of you, as you moved further onto the bed. you laid on your back and moaned as topper started to move, pinning your hips below his.

“you need to be quiet,” he said.

“why?”

“because my mom is right down the hall.”

“so? she obviously knows what we’re doing.”

“still.”

“oh, topper,” you moaned a little louder, a smile curling the corners of your lips.

topper’s hand landed over your mouth. you laughed into his palm and opened up to bite on his finger.

“you should move that hand a little lower,” you suggested, rolling your hips into his.

topper laughed breathily and a moment later, moved his hand to your neck. his hips drew back then and he thrusted, harder than before.

“oh, fuck,” you panted, tightening your hold on him.

“you like that?” he asked, his fingers flexing on your throat.

“mhm,” you managed, your face screwing up. “just like that.”

you sucked in a gasp, your breath staying in your lungs as topper did it again. you couldn’t look at him, couldn’t do anything but feel everything he was doing to you from your throat to him between your thighs. your back arched, pushing your breasts into his chest. you cried out the next time he thrust, hitting you so deeply, your nipples peeked to hardened points. fuck.

“don’t stop,” you couldn’t stop gasping. “please, don’t stop. it feels so good.”

tears pricked your eyes as he did it again, picking up a rhythm and sticking to it. his hand let go of your throat and gathered your hands into his, pinning them above your head as he fucked into you. the harder he went, the more your nails dug into the backs of his hands. his fingers tightened over yours and you cried out with your hips smacking. he didn’t cover your mouth this time, suddenly not caring if his mom heard you. you didn’t care either, you wanted this to go on all night. hopefully it would.

tears spilled when he didn’t let up his grip or his pace. they fell more as he drove into you quicker. it hurt so good, you couldn’t breathe. you didn’t dare open your eyes to see if he was enjoying it too. you hoped he was, you hoped he was loving pinning your hands down, driving into you like an animal. you didn’t know topper had this in him.

his hand let go of one of yours but you left it where it was as his thumb flicked your clit. your breaths grew higher within seconds and you tightened around him, your free hand flying to his arm where your nails dug in deep. you couldn’t stop the cry bubbling in your chest even if you wanted to. it was going to come out whether you liked it or not and topper wasn’t doing anything to muffle it.

“fuck—i’m going to come,” he sighed, his voice strained. was he losing it too? “come for me, please, baby. come with me.”

“top—” your muscles spasmed and everything exploded. you cried out his name however many times as you came over him, feeling him do the same as he thrusted and emptied inside you. his spurts were heavy and warm as his face buried into your neck, his mouth slick one moment then his teeth latching on to you. you grabbed the back of his head and pulled at his hair as he bit you, not hard enough to break the skin, but it still hurt so good.

“oh my god,” you panted as topper lay limp on you. you could feel both of your orgasms dissipating as your juices mixed and dripped out of you.

having let go of your neck, topper licked over the pulsing spot and lifted his head up to look down at you.

“are you okay?” he asked, sweat collected along his hairline. his thumb brushed your drying tears away.

“that was—i—topper,” you shook your head, wishing you could find the words. “i feel very good right now.”

he laughed, shaking your body with his and making you moan as you felt him rub inside of you. “i’m glad,” he said, kissing the underside of your jaw. “i think we need water and snacks so i’m going to go get some.”

“mmm. that’s a good idea.” you couldn’t bring yourself to wipe his sweat away just to feel it on your fingertips. you were spent.

he smiled and pecked your numb lips before sliding out of you and getting up.

cleaned up and under the covers, topper laid out an array of snacks and water bottles. you sat propped up against his pillows while he lay on his side, his head propped against his hand.

“will you come back next summer?” he asked, popping a piece of fruit into his mouth.

you reached for the cereal bowl of chocolate and stopped the smile from stretching across your face. “maybe.”

“i was looking for an answer more along the lines of yes.”

“you’ll have to be more persuasive then,” you hummed and chewed.

“i can be persuasive.” he was grinning and you couldn’t help thinking that he never looked better. tired, hair messy, dressed in just boxers, completely sated.

“oh yeah?” you raised a brow at him.

“mhmm,” he nodded, putting the fruit down and moving onto his hands and knees to crawl towards you. he grabbed ahold of the comforter and pulled it back a little, revealing your chest to the cool air. his head lowered to press a single kiss to the swell of your breast. then he moved to the other. he pressed a final kiss to your shoulder.

“how’s that?”

you shrugged the shoulder he just kissed and kept the smile off your face. mostly.

topper grinned again and it reached his eyes. he looked over you, down your chest, then slid his hand under the blanket to your thigh. “am i getting closer?”

you gasped and grabbed onto the back of his neck as his fingers ran up the inside of your thigh. heat swirled between your legs. “definitely.”

⭐️taglist of beauties & babes⭐️

@tovvaa @taylathornton @dontjinx-it @moniamaybank @drewstarkeygf @clearbolts @jjmaybankzz @macey730 @twinklelilstarkey @disrecpectful @mrs-cameron @jjcanloveme @igotmajordaddyissues @ohhersheybars @malar-region @honeyyhemmings @dvakat

#topper thornton #outer banks #topper thornton x reader #topper thornton x fem!reader #topper thornton obx #topper thornton smut #topper thornton imagine

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css1992 · 3 years

Text

Guilty Pleasure

[Porn AU]

Summary: Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM.

Warnings: 18+, explicit, references to past non-con/rape (not between main pairing, not explicit), daddy kink, Peter in lingerie, references to gaslighting and abusive relationship (not between main pairing, not explicit). The warnings are for the story as whole, not for this chapter specifically. I’ll add more in the future, if needed.

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII / Part IX / Part X / Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

“He can’t do this!” Ned slammed his hands down on the counter between them, as Peter took a swig of the cheap wine he bought with the last ten bucks he had in his wallet. “He isn’t even in all of the videos, at least half of the money is rightfully yours!” He kept going, stating the obvious, but Peter just sighed and shrugged.

“I’m not disagreeing with you, Ned, I’m just relaying what he told me: he’s not gonna give me anything. It’s his channel, his equipment, the money from the subscriptions goes straight to his bank account, so it’s his. It’s all his. His words, by the way.” He took another swig of wine straight from the bottle. He had been drinking from a small glass Ned offered him – he wasn’t a pirate – but it soon proved to be too small to quench his pain, so. Yeah. Pirate style it was.

“You have to sue his ass, Peter, he can’t get away with this,” MJ intervened. She was sitting next to him on a stool by the kitchen counter, so he turned to look at her with a deep frown on his face.

“Did you not hear me saying I just spent my last ten dollars on this bottle of wine? I have, like, twenty four cents left in my pocket. And that’s it. I can’t hire a lawyer, I can’t even feed myself right now!” He raised his voice a little, but quickly got himself back under control and apologized. His friends were not to blame for his predicament – they did try to warn him Beck was bad news, he didn’t want to listen. “And you know what? I don’t give a fuck. He can choke on all of it if he wants, the videos, the money, the subscribers, I don’t fucking care.” It wasn’t true, of course. Well, partially. He really didn’t care about the money, videos, subscribers, etc, but he cared about Beck. He would have given everything else up if it meant he could keep him.

Which was stupid of him, of course. But he certainly wasn’t winning any awards for being a great decision maker.

“It’s still not fair. I mean, I knew that guy was sleazy, but you’d think he’d have the decency to at least give you something, you know? You’ve been together for three years, he’s been making money off your ass for almost as long. How could he just fucking kick you out and not give you a single dime? After all the money you’ve made for him? It’s fucking sick, that guy is fucking psychopath if you ask me.” MJ’s face was turning red from anger, which made Peter smile a little. It felt good to know he was loved by someone, even if he hadn’t been the best friend to them for the past few years.

The thought made him close his eyes for a second, guilt creeping over him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d called either of them – maybe on Ned’s birthday, almost two months earlier. They used to be inseparable, the three of them; the three musketeers, as corny and lame as it sounded. For years, those two were the only family he knew, but when Beck came into his life, everything changed.

Stupid fucking Beck.

Peter used to think of him as his own personal super-hero – it did feel like he had come to save him, after all. They met when he was seventeen, he had been living in foster homes for almost seven years by then, after Ben and May passed away. At the time, he was with his fifth family, and there were so many children in that house, so many of them came and went, that their foster parents didn’t really keep tabs most of the time. It was easy to sneak out, and Peter did, often.

He met Beck on one of his night walks – and their first meeting should have raised all kinds of red flags, but for whatever reason, it didn’t. Beck slowed the car next to him, rolled down the window and asked how much Peter charged for a blowjob. Just like that. The teen gasped at first, but when he looked around for a moment, he realized he wasn’t in the most family friendly neighborhood. There were, in fact, some men and women around him who definitely looked like they were there for that, but Peter was in sweats, for crying out loud, and he definitely looked his age – or even younger than that.

His wide eyes must have given him away, because the older man quickly apologized and showed him a charming, white smile. He made up some excuse about mistaking him for someone else and the boy said it was ok. He was going to keep walking when Beck asked what his name was. Then how old he was. Then where he was going, where he ha come from.

Looking back, Peter knew he should have run. He should have left, because there was no excuse for an adult man like him to keep asking a teenager so many questions right after he basically offered him money to suck his dick. But that Peter, that 17-year-old boy, was still a bit too naive. To have such a handsome man showing interest in him – his kind, blue eyes smiling at him, warm and safe – was inebriating. He actually looked at him. And cared. At least Peter thought he did at the time. And he was so lonely back then, even that little bit of attention meant the world to him.

He should have run, but he stayed. Should have run, but got in his car. Should have run, but ended up giving him a clumsy hand job in the backseat, after just a few sweet promises whispered in his eager ears. Beck was so good with words, he could have convinced Peter to jump off a bridge that very same night if he wanted.

They exchanged phone numbers. For weeks, they texted and called each other, until they could meet again. By then, he was smitten. At twenty, he could see how innocent he had been, how trusting and open he was with a complete stranger. A 32 year-old stranger, at that. Ned and MJ, his only friends from school, warned him that it wasn’t okay. That it was weird for a man his age to be interested in a teenage boy, but Peter said they were wrong. He said he wasn’t just a regular kid, he had been through stuff they could only imagine. He was mature and experienced, and Beck could see that, which was why he liked him.

Looking back now, it was embarrassing how wrong he was. Beck was an illusionist. Sad thing was everyone could see the trapdoor but him.

“So what are you gonna do now?” MJ asked, fishing another bottle of wine from under the counter and placing it in front of Peter, who almost cried in gratitude.

“You mean besides crying myself to sleep for the next few months?” He wasn’t really joking. The only reason he wasn’t crying right at that moment was because he had spent almost three hours bawling his eyes out on a park bench close to their – well, Beck’s – apartment, hoping against hope that Beck would reconsider and come after him. When it became clear it wasn’t going to happen, he headed to the only place he knew he could find refuge – even if he didn’t deserve it.

“Yeah, besides that, obviously.” She opened the wine bottle and before he could take it and drink straight from it, she poured three glasses and Peter sighed, defeated.

“I have no idea.” He answered, only slightly surprised that he actually meant it. He had absolutely no clue what to do. For three years, he hadn’t had to worry about money – or anything, really. Beck took care of everything and he just assumed it would always be like that. That he would always have him by his side to take care of him.

He rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Are you going to keep doing porn?” Ned asked, a worried expression on his face. Peter remembered he hated the idea when Beck first suggested it, as soon as he turned eighteen.

People are gonna lose it, Beck said. A pretty little twink and a hot daddy? We’re going to be a hit.

And they were. Their first videos blew up quickly, people were either disgusted by the thought of them together – because of the age gap – or completely enthralled. The haters helped them get more views, and Peter soon learned that there really was no such thing as bad publicity. Beck promoted their videos on twitter, where they accumulated thousands of followers. Peter remembered that, back then, many people sent him worried messages, saying he was too young, that Beck was a predator, that he was taking advantage of him.

In retrospect, they might have been right, after all.

He wasn’t too sure about doing porn when they first started, he knew once they released the first video, there was no going back, there was no way they could ever take it down – the internet was forever. Nothing was ever truly deleted. He wanted to be a dad someday, what if his children ever saw those videos in the future? What would have Ben and May thought? What about his parents?

None of this matters, honey, Beck assured him. These kids don’t even exist yet, don’t worry about them. And your relatives, well… They’re gone, sweetie. You can’t really disappoint them anymore.

So Peter did it. And he was terrified at first, he felt so exposed, people all over the world could see him in his most vulnerable moments, all of him, in every position Beck managed to put him in, in any outfit he thought the public might like, in any setting he thought might bring in more viewers, more subscribers, more money.

Soon, just the two of them weren’t enough. Their viewers wanted to see Peter with other people – other daddies – and Beck saw another opportunity to increase his profit. Peter was strongly against the idea at first, it felt too much like prostitution, which was where he wanted to draw the line, but, again, Beck sweet-talked him into it.

It’s nothing like prostitution, honey, he said. I’ll be there the whole time, I’ll be the one filming and directing, I’ll be the one paying the other actors, all the profits are ours. How is that anything like prostitution? It’s just like what we’ve been doing so far.

So not only there were a bunch of videos of him and Beck out there in the world, there were also lots of videos of him with other men, some of whom were old enough to be his actual dad. There was even one video in particular that he was specially embarrassed by – and sadly enough, that was the most viewed one so far. It was fucking humiliating.

At some point, Peter should have realized it became all about money for Beck – and maybe it had been like that all along, he just hadn’t noticed before. Over the last few months of their relationship, they never had sex just for fun, just for the hell of it. There were always cameras, and lights, and roles to play. Beck never said he loved him anymore. Barely touched him. Barely kissed him. He should have seen it coming. He had been too blind, or just… Didn’t want to see what was happening right before his eyes. He ignored all the signs. The voice in the back of his head telling him something was off.

But anyway, porn. Could he still do it?

“I don’t know,” he answered, finally. He looked at his best friends and sighed with a shrug. “To be honest, it was never something I enjoyed, and I don’t know if I could ever do it without him somehow involved, you know? I did it with him because I felt… Safe? I don’t want to get involved in the actual porn industry, I’ve heard some pretty fucked up stories.” Peter had heard horror stories about other boys in the industry, and even though his own story was no fairy tale, there was nothing so bad that it couldn’t get worse.

“How about Just4Fans?” MJ asked and both Peter and Ned turned to look at her in shock. “What? You guys were pretty popular, right? You won awards and shit, so there must be at least a few hundred people out there who would pay money to see some dirty pictures of you, maybe some short videos. That way you won’t need to go into professional porn and you wouldn’t need a partner, but you could still make decent money. And fast.”

Well, it actually made sense. It wasn’t like there weren’t hundreds of videos of him being fucked raw all over the internet, anyway. A few dirty pictures couldn’t hurt. And besides, it didn’t need to be forever, just until he figured something out.

“That’s… actually not a bad idea,” he conceded, drinking the last of the wine in his glass. MJ sympathetically filled it up again and he mumbled his thanks.

“What do you think he will do now?” Ned asked carefully, and Peter shrugged for what felt like the hundredth time. There was so much he didn’t know.

“Probably keep shooting videos with his new boy-toy.” He managed to say it with a steady voice, but his eyes burned. He still couldn’t believe how… replaceable Beck thought he was.

When he noticed them interacting online a few months earlier, before the boy was even eighteen, Peter was alarmed, but when he confronted the older man about it, he said he was crazy and seeing things, picking up fights for no reason. He always twisted things in a way that, somehow, Peter was the one apologizing to him in the end.

Months later, just weeks after the kid turned eighteen, there he was – homeless, penniless and lost – meanwhile the other guy was probably getting comfortable in his bed. If Peter didn’t hate the kid, he would pity him. In a few years, he would probably meet the same fate.

“Do you think he would take the videos down if you asked?” Ned asked, and Peter scoffed.

“Yeah, right, those videos will still make him a lot of money monthly, he’d never delete them.” And Peter would have to live with the fact that he would always be just one google search away from complete humiliation and exposure. If he ever tried to get a serious job, those videos would stand in the way. If he ever managed to meet somebody decent and good, those videos would be a testament to what sort of person he was in the past. Fuck, some of them were really fucked up.

“So… Should we create fake twitter accounts to trash talk his short dick or what?” MJ was already grabbing her phone and Peter laughed halfheartedly, shaking his head.

“He’s not worth it. Karma will take care of him, I’m sure.” He drank the last of his wine and whimpered sadly. “So… Can I crash with you guys for a few days? I promise I’m not gonna overstay my welcome! I’ll be out of your hair as soon as the Just4Fans thing works out.”

“Of course you can, nerd, stay as long as you need. We’ve got your back, c’mon.” MJ got up from her stool and gestured for him to do the same. “Do you mind taking the couch?” She asked as she headed to her bedroom in the tiny apartment.

“Not at all,” he answered with a sigh of relief, then went to grab his suitcase by the door. Three years together and that was all he had to show for it. A single suitcase with a few changes of clothes, after being kicked out of the house on a cold February night. His eyes burned but he took a deep breath, blinking them rapidly to avoid the tears.

“Then make yourself at home. Our casa es su casa.” MJ placed a pillow on the couch and handed him a thick, warm blanket.

“We’ll figure something out, okay?” Ned clasped him on the shoulder with a gentle smile on his face.

“Okay.” He sighed, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his crushed chest.

He waited for his friends to go into their respective rooms, waited to hear their quiet snores, before he allowed the tears to run freely down his face, replaying everything Beck said to him when he kicked him out.

Before he knew it, he was a sobbing a little, so he buried his face in the pillow to muffle the noise, as he tried to convince himself that things were going to be okay, that he was going to be okay. But at that moment, that was hard to believe.

#starker #peter parker x tony stark

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Would love to see a wired autocomplete interview with coops! 🥰

Anon, did you read my mind? These two have such chaotic energy when they’re given an outlet and it was a true pleasure to write it. Dorcas is exhausted. Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“Wait, I want to pull the tab,” Remus said, tugging on the edge of the cardboard lightly as Sirius tried to hold it out of his reach without falling off his chair.

“I get to read it out loud for you and then we switch!” Sirius protested, smacking him gently on the head with it. The resulting bonk noise made them both break down laughing.

“You guys know we’re rolling, right?” Dorcas asked as she gathered a stack of cards in her lap, looking highly amused.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” She turned to the camera with a bright smile. “Welcome back to Lion Pride, hockey fans! I’m Dorcas Meadowes and I’m here today with Sirius Black and Remus Lupin to answer some of the internet’s most pressing questions. How are you two feeling?”

“Terrified,” Sirius said.

“The internet is like the Twilight Zone,” Remus agreed. “Who goes first?”

“Sirius, you’ve got a card already. Take it away.”

He cleared his throat and grabbed the edge of the first pull tab, ripping it off slowly. “That is so satisfying, woah. How tall is Remus Lupin?”

“I am five foot eleven and a half.”

“That half inch comes from your sneakers and you know it.”

“It does not!”

Sirius just smiled and removed the next paper slip. “What language does Remus Lupin speak?”

“I speak English and a little bit of French. Tried to learn Spanish in high school, but failed miserably.”

“I love the wording on this one,” Sirius said as he turned the board toward the camera. “Remus Lupin Green Bay Packers.”

“Dammit, now everyone knows my full name,” Remus sighed. “Uh, the Packers are cool.”

“I think people were wondering if you ever played on the team,” Dorcas said.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Do I look like a football player to you?”

“Next question!” Sirius ripped the tab off and took a good section of the paper above with it. There was a beat of stunned silence. “I am…so sorry.”

Behind the camera, Marlene burst out laughing, along with most of the camera crew. “It’s fine, keep reading.”

“Okay, um…” Sirius squinted at the partially torn-off question. “Remus Lupin name meaning.”

Remus groaned. “I hate this question. Yes, it does mean Wolf Wolf. Yes, my dad’s name also means Wolf Wolf. Yes, my mother’s maiden name is Howell. I’m aware of the endless puns.”

“Don’t you mean a-were?” Sirius asked as a slow grin spread across his face. Remus grabbed the card and bonked him over the head with it.

“Remus, your turn.” Dorcas handed him a poster board and took the blank one.

“I’m going to be careful with this one, unlike somebody,” he teased, kissing Sirius on the cheek. “Is Sirius Black…related to Pascal Dumais?”

“In all the ways that matter, yes.”

Remus grinned when he read the next one. “Is Sirius Black missing a tooth?”

“No!” Sirius gave the camera an offended look. “I have all my teeth, thank you very much.”

“Is Sirius Black mean?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Reporters don’t like you very much.”

“The feeling is mutual. I love the fans though, most of them are so sweet.”

“Oh, I like this one. Is Sirius Black married?” Remus rested his chin on the top of the card and batted his eyelashes, making Sirius laugh.

“Almost! Ask me again in July.” Remus set the card on the floor and Dorcas passed Sirius a new one. “Does Remus Lupin wear glasses?”

“Nope.”

“Does Remus Lupin—I have never said your name so many times in one sitting, my god—does Remus Lupin have siblings?”

“Yup.”

“Does Remus Lupin—”

“Can you elaborate?” Dorcas asked with a laugh. “How many siblings? Names? Ages?”

Remus turned to the camera. “I have one brother named Julian and he’s ten years old. He likes piggyback rides, ice cream, and hockey.”

“Much better. Take it away, Cap.”

“Does Remus Lupin have allergies?”

Remus frowned in confusion. “Why do people want to know that? Uh, yeah, I’m allergic to some pollens. Spring is hell.”

“How many of these do we have?” Sirius asked as he tossed the board over his shoulder and crossed his legs.

“Quite a few! Loops, you’re up.”

“Where is Sirius Black from?”

“Canada.”

“Where does Sirius Black live?”

“The Lions ice rink. I set up a tent in the middle of the goal posts every night so that I’m never late to practice.”

“Sirius Black gay.”

Sirius paused. “I think we’re missing a couple words in there.”

“That’s literally all it says,” Remus laughed, moving it to show him. “Sirius Black gay. I don’t know, honey, Sirius Black gay?”

“Sirius Black very gay,” he confirmed. “Sirius Black thinks people need to have better grammar.”

“Is Sirius Black’s hair naturally curly?”

“No, I use a curling iron every morning to do each individual curl,” he said. “It takes me seven hours and thirteen minutes, and I use a full can of hairspray.”

Remus scooted over so Dorcas could hand him a new card. “He keeps a stopwatch and tries to beat his personal record every time.”

Sirius pulled the first tab away and immediately started laughing too hard to speak.

“What does it say? You can’t just leave me hanging!” Sirius turned the board around and Remus leaned down to read it. “Is Remus Lupin hockey? Yes. I am the entire sport of hockey condensed into one being. I’m coming for basketball next. Thanks for asking!”

It took a few seconds for Sirius to get his breath back. “What is Remus Lupin—”

“I thought we just answered that.”

“—what is Remus Lupin zodiac sign?”

Remus paused. “Is that the thing Pots was talking about the other day? With the quiz?”

“That was love languages.”

“Your zodiac sign depends on your birthday,” Marlene called. “When were you born?”

“March 10th.”

“You’re a Pisces.”

“I’m a Pisces!” he said brightly to the camera. “No idea what that means, but it sounds cool.”

“It means you’re two fish.” She laughed as Remus sucked his cheeks in for a fish face. “Very nice.”

“Thank you.”

Sirius was especially careful as he pulled the paper slip off the next question. “What is Remus Lupin first job?”

“The grammar of these questions is killing me. Um, I worked in the university bookstore during college.”

“On the list of ‘things that don’t surprise anyone’,” Dorcas joked.

“Did Remus Lupin go to college?”

Remus gave the camera a look. “First of all, I have a medical degree. Second of all, did people completely forget about the whole ‘about to be drafted right out of college’ thing? It was a grand total of four years ago! Google it!”

“That’s what they did,” Sirius pointed out, gesturing to the board.

“True.”

“Last one for this card: how old is Remus Lupin?”

Remus thought for a moment. “Y’know, I kind of lost track after the first few centuries. My turn…what is Sirius Black real name?”

Sirius glanced at the camera. “It’s Sirius Black? Is this a trick question?”

“There are people out there who think that’s a fake name,” Dorcas said.

“Um, okay. Yeah, my real name is Sirius Black, my brother is Regulus, my dad is Orion, and I have cousins named Andromeda and Bellatrix.”

“What’s your uncle’s name again?” Remus asked.

“Which one? Cygnus? Phineas Nigellus? Arcturus?” At Dorcas’ surprised look, he laughed. “Oh, I could go all day long with this. That’s the tea on old French families with weird-ass naming traditions.”

“This next one is similar: Sirius Black middle name?”

“Orion.”

“Fun fact: the first time I saw your full name, Moody had written it and I thought it said ‘onion’.” Remus laughed as Sirius’ jaw fell open. “Those three seconds were a highlight of my life. Alright, what’s next…what color are Sirius Black’s eyes?”

“Blue.”

Remus shook his head. “They’re gray, almost silver.”

“Basically blue.”

“There’s nothing basic about you, babe.” Remus slid the board onto the floor and passed Sirius a new one. “Hit me with your best shot.”

“Is Remus Lupin Canadian?”

“I wish.”

“Is Remus Lupin left-handed?”

“No, but a lot of people seem to think that I am.”

“Is—” Sirius cut off with a snort. “Is Remus Lupin scrappy?”

“Are you fucking with me?” Remus asked, leaning over. “Is that actually what it says?”

“Yep.”

“Scrappy? Really?” He shook his head, lost for words. “I mean, I guess. Nobody’s ever called me scrappy before.”

“I don’t like this last one. How much is Remus Lupin worth?” Sirius wrapped an arm around his shoulders and kissed his temple. “You’re priceless.”

“I’m worth at least half a PB & J, but only if you use the good peanut butter. If you use the shitty Skippy stuff, hand over the whole sandwich. My turn! Does Sirius Black have piercings?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Does Sirius Black have an Instagram?”

“I do. Sblack12, if you want to see pictures of my friends’ kids and this cutie.”

“Is Sirius Black Australian?”

“Fuck off. I’m French Canadian, how the hell did anyone think I was Australian?”

“Sirius Black birthday.”

“I have one.”

“What is it?” Marlene asked. “I’ll tell you your zodiac sign.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “November 3rd.”

“Scorpio bitch.”

“Hey!”

“On the bright side, Scorpios and Pisces are super compatible.”

“What a relief, I was really banking on our astrology compatibility,” Remus said drily.

Dorcas handed Sirius a fresh board. “First up: can Remus Lupin sing?”

“Eh.”

“The correct answer is yes. What is Remus Lupin like in real life?”

“I’m horrible. I kick every puppy I see and carry one of those sticky hands from arcades to steal candy from children.” A smile twitched at the edges of his mouth and Sirius’ cheeks turned pink from suppressing his laughter. “Like Spiderman, but evil.”

“What happened to Remus Lupin after college?”

“What didn’t happen to Remus Lupin after college?” he laughed, leaning back in his seat. “These past couple years have been bonkers fucking yonkers. I became a PT, got a secret boyfriend, and now I’m engaged and an NHL player. There were, like, three seasons of character development squished into eighteen months.”

“Alright, last one. Why Remus Lupin kissed Sirius Black?”

“Because he’s hot and nice. Also, because he’s my fiancé.”

“Is that the criteria for kisses?” Sirius asked. “I just have to be hot and nice?”

“Pretty much. You’ve got both boxes permanently checked.”

“Final card,” Dorcas warned as she handed it to him. “Make it count.”

Remus cleared his throat. “How does Sirius Black work out?”

“I rollerskate and hula hoop for six hours a day simultaneously.”

“How old is Sirius Black?”

“Ageless.”

“How did Sirius Black meet Remus Lupin?”

“Fun story, actually. You know the movie Ocean’s Eleven?”

“Are Sirius Black and James Potter—”

“Dating.”

“—still friends.”

“Damn, I thought I had that one.” He did a double take. “Still friends? What happened? I saw him an hour ago, tops.”

“You might have to google it,” Remus suggested as he slid the board across the floor. “That’s it!”

“Way to go, guys,” Dorcas laughed. “I know literally nothing new about you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sirius said as the two high-fived. “We were completely honest the whole time.”

She faced the camera with a poorly-hidden smile. “Thanks for joining us today, Lions, and remember to like and subscribe for more content!”

240 notes · View notes

maddiwrites · 3 years

Text

Secrets of the Shore (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Pogues x OC, Eventually JJ x OC

Summary: This is just my rewrite of the show Outer Banks with my own twist by adding another main character which also happens to be John B’s twin sister.

Note: I’ll be honest, this isn’t my best chapter, so please don’t judge too harshly I swear it gets better!!! (: Again, forever grateful for all the kind feedback. I truly appreciate it. If you asked to be on the tag list and I accidentally forgot, please let me know!

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Slight insinuation to sexual assault.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 & Chapter 4

Like I said before, I'm good at advertising. Although the cell phone towers are still down, making it harder for me to get the word out about a party in the boneyard, I still know how to get around to the other teenagers on this island.

I sneak in an hour of surfing on the beach, afterwards finding Tourons and even some Kooks. These are the best people to go to when you want word to get around. They're rich and live for gossip. They have the internet and cell phone service, which means they can text their friends and send out tweets. And that is exactly what they do when I'm finished talking to them.

Later, I go with JJ and John B to get the kegs. As they work their magic, somehow securing two, I walk around the lot where most kids who live on the Cut hang out, hoping to score cheap booze from a stranger walking into the beer and beverage store. I use to spend a lot of my weekends here when my dad first disappeared. A small part of me still wants to. It was so easy to forget about my life falling apart when I was too wasted to form a complete sentence.

I tell them about the party and tell them to tell their friends and so on.

As I expect, the empty boneyard fills up quickly. To Kie's dismay, almost every kid has a red solo cup in their hand instead of a reusable one by the time the sun sets. Music and the chants of people playing drinking games fill my ears like a bird chirping on a Sunday morning.

Beer dribbles down my chin and onto my pink v neck crop top. JJ has his arm linked around mine, also chugging his drink, trying to down his before me. However, I beat him by one gulp and slam my cup on the sand as triumph.

"Seriously, Mar?" Kie scolds. She picks up my cup and throws it away.

JJ just smiles at me, maybe even looks at me with some kind of pride. It's hard to beat JJ in any drinking match, but I'm his biggest competition. I usually lose against him, but sometimes I have my nights where I'm undefeated.

He points his finger at me, pretending to be mad without losing the smile on his face. He takes a menacing step forward and bends down to lift me over his shoulder. I squeal in surprise and laugh against his back as he swings me around in circles.

When he sets me down, I shove his shoulders playfully. "Looks like you've finally met your match." JJ just shakes his head. "Get me another beer, loser?"

"You're lucky you're cute." He winks.

You can't understand the Outer Banks without understanding the boneyard. It's kinda like a three-layer burrito. There's us and our friends, working-class derelicts. Then, there are the Kooks, the rich second-homers. They're mostly from pouncy-ass boarding schools, just rich trustfarian posers. Our natural enemies. And then, there are the Tourons. Totally clueless. Here for a week on vacation with their families. Chum for the sharks. They're usually my first pick. A night with no attachments and a more than likely chance I'll never see them again.

I walk past Kie, who's sitting on drift wood talking to someone about zodiac signs and horoscopes. And when I pass Pope, I hear him talking about dead bodies and how TV doesn't portray the biological condition of them accurately. I giggle to myself when I see who he's talking to. A really pretty girl who wasn't expecting to get an anatomy lesson from the boy next to her. I make a mental note to work on Pope's flirting tactics.

As I make my way to the back of the beach, I see Sarah Cameron leaning off a fallen lifeguard stand. Her boyfriend, Topper Thornton, is right there with her, trying to get her to come down. Sarah Cameron's known as the Kook princess. Kiara's best friend in the ninth grade, worst enemy in the tenth grade. None of us know why she started hating her all of a sudden. She doesn't like to talk about it so we don't bring it up. However, John B works on Sarah's dad's boat thanks to me.

My teeth clench together at the sight of both of them. The two of them and their friends are the worst Kooks of all. Bad memories prickle my brain like a million tiny needles and the palms of my hands sweat against my solo cup.

I walk to the back of the beach and lean against a tree that's as close to a palm tree as this island is going to see. I like being back here when the sun goes down. It gives me the perfect view of the party. Watching people laugh and have fun because of a night my friends and I put together makes me feel satisfied. Like I did something to make their day a little more enjoyable.

"Now what's the life of the party doing back here all by herself?" A voice that makes every muscle in my body turn to ice says.

I force myself not to look in his direction. My hands clench tighter around my cup until it bends and beer sloshes on my hand.

"Trying to avoid grimy wandering hands from pompous pricks," I say through clenched teeth. I'm surprised my voice isn't as shaky as I feel. "Go away, Rafe."

Rafe Cameron ignores me and moves to stand in front of me. His blonde hair is slicked back with a gel that's probably more expensive than my entire outfit. He's wearing a salmon pink button up shirt and white shorts. The sight of him makes me sick and I don't know if I want to drink more heavily or throw up and call it a night.

"Oh come on, Marleigh. Let's not pretend like you don't want to finish what we started."

I stand up straighter, feeling bile rise in my throat. "I'd rather rip both of my eyes out with a spoon." My insult wipes his stupid cocky grin off his smug face. At first I take it as a compliment, but the look in his eyes chills me to the bone. "Get out of here, Rafe. I'm not going to tell you again."

Rafe jerks forward and pushes me back into the trunk of the tree. His forearm presses against my chest, right below my collarbone. I try fighting him off but he's surprisingly strong. His eyes swing back and forth with craze, his pupils large and dilated. He's gotta be on something. Cocaine maybe. I've heard rumors.

"You think you can talk to me like that? After what my dad did for your friends?"

"Your dad only helped them in hopes to cover up the mistake that you made," I seethe, trying to push him away again. I try to keep my breathing even and my eyes unblinking. I don't want him to think I'm afraid of him. Even though I'm scared enough to vomit on his two hundred dollar shoes. "I owe you nothing." There's a pause as Rafe considers his next words carefully. So I push even harder. "You know, if you keep bringing it up, people might overhear and start to talk. I don't know if even your dad could buy the entire island's silence."

"You seriously think you can threaten me? You're nothing but a dirty walking piece of trash Pogue. No one will believe the Cut's biggest whore." Rafe shakes his head. "Remember that next time you think about talking to me like that."

His words cut through me like a stab in the chest, but I try not to let him see that. I push against him, keeping my face pinched and my eyes unwavering. "I'm not the same girl I was eight months ago," I say, finally pushing him away from me.

Back then I was a messed up girl who's dad had just left after a big argument that resulted in him thinking she hated him. All I wanted to do was drown myself with drugs and alcohol in hopes to forget about him, even if that meant following Kie to a Kook party when she was trying to roll around in the Kook life. I was easy to manipulate and take advantage of...easy to hurt. But not anymore.

"You think I'm above hitting a girl?" Rafe breathes heavily, his hands clenched to his side. I struck a nerve. One more and he might actually attack me.

"No," I say honestly. "I don't think you're above anything...or anyone. Including me - a dirty walking piece of trash Pogue." I use his words against him.

Rafe jerks forward and raises his hand to hit me and I'm ready for the blow and a fight back, but someone's voice forces us to halt, stopping us like she just pressed paused on a movie screen.

Kie watches us with wide eyes and glances back and forth between us. She looks both scared and angry. Rafe doesn't even bother looking in her direction. He's more disappointed that she got in his way.

I stand up straight again and walk past him, making sure to shove him backwards with my shoulder. Kie wraps her arm around mine and pulls me in close as she guides me away from him. She looks behind us one last time to make sure Rafe isn't following us. When the coast is clear, she stops and turns to look at me with a stone cold expression.

"What the hell was that?" She says, trying to read my face. "Are you okay?"

I can barely hear her behind the screaming in my head. Dirty walking piece of trash Pogue. The Cut's biggest whore. Who would believe you?

"Fine," I shrug, feigning nonchalance. I look back to where I was just standing. Rafe's gone, but the nausea he left me with isn't.

"Marleigh."

"Seriously, Kie. I'm fine. Just some unresolved built up resentment coming out full-fledged. I can't say I'm surprised. Now that summer's started, we're probably going to see a lot more of them."

Kie sighs and looks at me sympathetically. I hate that look. "You should tell the boys."

"What? No way!" I snap.

"What if he -"

"He's not going to." I glare at her.

"Why won't you just -"

"So they can think of me as some pathetic little girl who needs protection from some self-centered Kook? Besides, John B and probably JJ will go after him and the last thing either of them need is charges pressed against them."

The noise of people yelling at one another and some cheering stops Kie from fighting back with me. We turn to look towards the water, seeing a crowd form around two people fighting. Dread creeps up my chest. If I had one hundred dollars, I'd bet it all that one of my friends is the center of attention in that crowd.

Kie and I run to them, pushing ourselves to the front. My breath hitches in my throat when I see who's involved. John B and Topper are fighting ankle deep in the ocean, each one getting a few good punches in.

"John B, stop!" I yell. I don't care who started the fight or why Topper deserves to get beaten to shit. If John B gets caught, the two of us are more than screwed with DCS.

"We're suppose to be incognito, remember?" Pope yells at my brother next to me.

"Babe!" Sarah yells at her boyfriend, jerking back and forth, trying to grab him by the shirt to pull him back. But his movements are scrappy. Sarah would just get hurt.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" The crowd around us cheer like it's a high school wrestling match and not my brother, the one that threw them this party by the way. I can't believe people find this as a source of entertainment. Half of them wouldn't even last a second if they were the one's getting beaten to a pulp.

Topper gets the upper hand and throws John B into the water. I flinch from the pain that must of caused to John B's back.

"Hey, John B, don't make me drown you like your old man, all right?" Topper says.

In that moment my vision turns red and a switch flips in my body. I picture my hands around Topper's neck and him begging for me to let him go - him taking back those words.

When I step into the water to reach him, arms wrap around my waist, stopping me from going forward. I glare at the blonde Pogue and try shoving him away from me but that only makes his grip on me tighten.

"JJ, let me go," I grunt.

"Sorry, pretty girl. Can't do that." His lips are so close that I can feel his breath.

John B tackles Topper to the ground and punches him in the face again.

"Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!"

"John B, let it go!" Kie screams. "Stop, you guys!"

Topper kicks John B's feet from under him and just like that, JB is back in the water. The Kook kneels next to him and punches my brother across the face before shoving his head into the water.

"Topper stop!" I yell.

"Come on John B!" Pope yells.

Topper lets John B come up for air before dunking him back in. I feel my chest tighten when I realize what Topper is going to do, whether he means to or not.

"JJ, please! He's going to kill him! JJ!" I cry against his hold.

"Come on, Man!" Topper taunts John B, keeping his head under water.

I'm going to kill him, I think. The second JJ lets go, I'm going to rip Topper apart.

"Topper, stop! No!" Sarah cries.

"Pope!" JJ says, swinging me around before pushing me into our other friend's arms. "Hold her."

"What? No!" I fight back but even Pope is stronger than I give him credit for.

JJ disappears to God knows where and I'm left watching like a stranded duck. I feel useless, like I should be doing more to help my brother. Everything I said to Rafe only minutes ago goes straight out the window. Maybe I am weak and still a girl who needs protecting.

Then the world freezes. JJ holds the gun we found in the motel to Topper's head, not only making Topper pause, but the rest of the crowd too. Pope releases his hold on me and I stumble away from him. I only watch the scene unfold in front of me with wide eyes.

"Yeah, you know what that is," JJ says, clicking the safety off the gun. "Your move, broski."

"Come on!" Pope yells. "Chill dude!"

"Stop! JJ!" Sarah cries. "Put the gun down!"

"Did you say something princess?" JJ turns towards Sarah and points his gun at the sky.

"We're good. We're good." Topper stumbles away from my brother to stand in front of his girlfriend.

The second he backs away, I'm in the water helping John B. I pull his upper back into my lap and push his hair out of his face. He coughs up a couple gulps of water before relaxing against me.

"Kie! Can you check your psycho friend, please!" Sarah yells.

"Okay, everyone, listen up!" JJ addresses everyone else who still watch in fear. "Get the hell off our side of the island!" He fires two bullets into the sky, causing people to shriek and cry around me.

"Are you crazy?" Kie yells at him. "Why do that?"

"I'm saving his life, okay?" JJ yells back at her.

When people begin dispersing, Pope runs into the water to help me lift John B back to shore. He's in a daze and barely able to stand on his own.

The four of them help me drag him back to the Chateau, the party long forgotten. Kie covers John B with blankets and places a glass of water on the nightstand for when he wakes up. I don't say anything as the night wraps up. I'm not mad at JJ like Pope and Kie. He did what he had to do to save John B. Topper could have killed him and the police would probably chop it up as an accident and I would be left with no family.

"You guys should go," I say.

I just want to be alone. Between Rafe and Topper, all I can think about is sleep so I can wake up to a new day. Start over and try again.

"Are you sure?" JJ asks, looking between my eyes to find any sign for him to stay.

As much as I want JJ to stay the night and let me cuddle into him like the night before, it's best if I'm alone. So I reluctantly nod.

"You can stay at mine tonight, JJ," Pope offers.

I offer a weak smile before turning around to lock myself in my room. When I hear the door to the Chateau close one last time for the night, I sigh deeply and stare up at my ceiling. I'm restless, anxious, sweaty. As much as I want sleep, sleep doesn't want me. I toss and turn hoping for a wave of darkness to hit me but it never does.

I glance at my clock. 3:04 AM. I roll my eyes and groan to myself, pushing myself up against my bed's headboard. I tip toe out of the Chateau and make my way down to the dock. I dip my toes in the water and lay back against the wooden slacks. The moon's half crescent illuminates the water, dark with a mystery glint. It's cold against the night, feeling refreshing against my skin.

Even my mind isn't tired. My head wanders with different thoughts. Rafe, Topper, Scooter, the gun...my dad. His words echo through my ears like a skipping record. The night before he disappeared he told John B and I that he might have to vanish for a bit. This only caused a major fight to brew between my father and I whereas John B only nodded and said okay. I think this is why John B still holds on to hope that he's alive somewhere.

John B was always the loyal one to my father. Although they fought almost as much as my dad and I, they were quick to move on and pretend like it wouldn't happen again. Even though it always did. He tried to help my dad keep me on track with school, friends, and other activities. Most of the time, he just joined in on my antics. Sometimes I regret not giving my dad enough credit. He was a single father to Pogue twins with the distraction of his own obsession. My last words to him haunt me every day I pass his office.

"I hate you!" I screamed. I didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing my tears. I wanted him to know I was strong and that I didn't need him. I think my main intention was to hurt him like he hurt me, but I would do anything to take it back.

~ ~ ~

I wake up to the low rumble of an engine and the crunch of gravel underneath some tires. I blink away the sleep in my eyes, looking out into the marsh. The sun is above me, warming the entire island with it's summer heat so early in the morning.

My back aches as I sit myself up. I twist to find the noise that woke me up.

"Shit," I curse when I see the cop car parked in front of the Chateau.

Sheriff Peterkin sees me walking up my yard and waits for me to approach her before barging into my house. I squint against the morning light. Even though I'm not in the mood for a pop in, I actually like Peterkin. She's the only one I trust to do her job right.

"I hope you brought some coffee," I say before opening the door for her.

"This will be quick," She says. I watch her eyes scan my kitchen and living room judgmentally. "Where's your brother?"

I point to his room. Peterkin gives me a look to go first. I sigh, knocking twice on the door before letting myself in. John B is still passed out. Half of his body hangs off the bed. His left eye is officially black and blue, a mark I know Peterkin won't subtly ignore. It's the first thing she sees and gives me a sideways glance. I cross my arms and look away.

John B blinks up at us when he hears our footsteps. His brows furrow in confusion, sleep still fogging his head.

"Get decent, sweetie," Peterkin says. "We need to talk."

As we wait for JB to get dressed, I sit on the pull out couch in my living room, fumbling with my thumbs until he appears, dressed in an open button up and swim trunks. He glances between Peterkin and I for some answers but neither of us give him any.

"Sorry to break in like this," She says, pacing the floor. John B stands next to me with his arms crossed. "But DCS called. They wanted me to check on you. See how you two are doing." Neither of us answer. "So, how are you, besides -" She points to JB's shiner and I hold myself back from rolling my eyes. So far so good!

"Oh, no, I'm - I'm great," John B says, shrugging like our life is just full of rainbows and butterflies. "Yeah, fantastic. Uh... thanks for coming by."

Peterkin just smirks. "I'm so glad to hear you say that, John B, but I heard a few things that worried me. Let me see if I can remember. Oh yeah. One of the things I heard was that your Uncle Teddy, your guardian, hasn't been in the state for three months."

"Yes he has -"

Peterkin cuts me off. "You don't have to say anything. I know it's true. I called the school. They said you used to be a good student," She says, looking at John B. Then she looks at me. "You not so much. But John they say now you're failing all your classes."

"No. No, I'm only failing one and it's history. He's a dick. He's out for me - "

"I heard," Peterkin continues, not giving a damn about John B's bullshit excuses, "there was a fight on the beach yesterday, and a gun was involved."

My eyes snap up to look directly at Peterkin. I feel my heart drop to the pit of my stomach. What else was she going to ask? Would JJ get in trouble? Are we going to jail?

"Okay, gun?" John B plays dumb. "No. Did I get in a dustup? Yeah, but was there a gun? No. No way," He scoffs.

"That's okay I know who it was. I'll get to him. All I'm worried about right now is making sure you're in a safe home."

"Yeah," I say. "Super safe."

John B knocks the table next to him. "Super sound, sturdy. You know?"

"Uncle T's coming so..." I say to get John B to stop talking. He's a lot of things but a good liar isn't one of them.

"That's what he told you?" Peterkin looks at me with a raised brow.

"Yeah."

"If he is coming," Peterkin picks up a cigarette and sniffs it. "I think you should be allowed to stay."

"Thank you."

"But if I stick my neck out for you, you have to help me. Tit for tat."

John B tilts his head in confusion. "What - what does tat mean?"

I squeeze my eyes shut and let my head fall back. I swear I'm going to buy duct tape to keep this boy's mouth shut.

Peterkin ignores him. "Let me see, how can you help me? Oh, I know. So, a body was found in the marsh yesterday. Were you in the marsh yesterday?"

"Yeah," I decide to answer. "We were fishing for some drum."

"You catch anything?"

"Nah, we were skunked."

"Strange," She says, not believing me. "Fishing's usually good after a storm. All sorts of things get stirred up. You come across a wreck yesterday?"

"No." My heart falls deeper, but I try to keep a straight face.

This makes Peterkin sigh and she glances between the two of us. "You two are skimmin' just above the surface. Now, down here is foster care, juvie," She says, dropping her hand to about knee length. "Pretty big drop for smart kids like the both of you." She moves her hand to eye level. "Up here is you and your little friends doing whatever you want. Outer Banks...or foster care on the mainland." I let her threat swim in my brain. "You one inch above the surface, Routledge. If I was you, I'd start flapping my wings." She looks at us one last time, no longer wanting to play games. "Now, you sure you didn't come across a wreck yesterday?" She looks at John B who's more likely to blab than me.

I look up at my brother, warning him that he needs to lie.

He shrugs his shoulder, the lie sliding across his tongue like silk. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm sure."

Peterkin looks between John B and I and nods slowly. "It's better if you didn't, you understand? I'm gonna look the other way as long as you stay out of the marsh." She runs her finger along the wooden kitchen table and rubs the dust between her fingers. "I got dogs living better than this. You might wanna think about cleaning' up."

Peterkin lets herself out without saying goodbye. John B and I don't say anything until her car pulls out of the driveway and only then do we just share a look that says how screwed we both are.

Tag List: @notyourcupofteax @acvross-the-universe @jjmaybankzz @jeeperky @realistic-breadstick @moniamaybank @urbinoutfiters @brebear121

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 18: Told You I’d Say Yes

Summary: Steve, Katie and Sam begin their search for Bucky and they uncover something that makes Steve start to question where their priorities as a team should lie. Decision made, the two of them head back to the Tower in New York to join up with the other adventures, and when Katie’s 30th birthday arrives, Steve asks a very differen question…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language words, smut (NSFW), no under 18s. And a whole lotta teeth rotting fluff…

A/N: I think this is my favourite edit yet, @angrybirdcr

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 17

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Steve had no real leads and as such he, Katie and Sam spent weeks combing through the information that Natasha had provided, using JARVIS to translate the Russian which none of them spoke of course. It was hard work, stressful and gave them nothing of real use either, other than give them a bit more of an understanding of who the Winter Soldier was, so to speak, and then Sam had a brainwave. If Bucky was starting to get his memories back and pieced together that he had been working for Hydra under duress, he might go looking for answers, possibly even revenge.

They decided to start in the nearest Hydra base they knew about from the leaks on the internet, and as such they were now ransacking an old abandoned bank in the financial district in the middle of the night.

What they found wasn’t great- a dozen bodies of dead Hydra agents. Most looked as if they had had their throats crushed apart from one who was sat in a chair, a bullet between his eyes. From the look, and smell, they’d been there a while.

“That’s an execution.” Sam muttered, nodding at the man who had been shot and Katie looked at him as Steve simply turned and walked from the smaller room, back into the larger corridor. He made his way down, pulling open a thick door into the main vault and stopped dead as he saw some form of chair in the middle, surrounded by restraints and a device that looked like some kind of macabre halo. Steve felt his mouth go dry as he looked at it. I was some perverted form of the chamber he’d been in when they’d administered the serum…

“Looks like they were deleting data when they were interrupted…” Sam bent over to get a closer look at the computer to the side. Katie passed him the device she had brought and he plugged it in and started the data mining. As Steve made his way towards the two of them, Sam frowned and clicked on something that caught his attention and immediately the sounds of tortured screams filled the room. Katie jolted slightly as Sam took a step back, the three of them glancing at the screen which was sat on the desk. And all 3 wished they hadn’t. As there, on the screen Bucky was strapped down the halo-like contraption lowered onto his head.

“Turn it off!” Katie instructed to Sam, who moved to cut the footage immediately but Steve grabbed his arm.

“No…” he said firmly, his eyes fixated on the grim footage in front of him, his chest heaving with anger.

Finally the screams stopped and someone was saying words as they were in Russian but when they finished Bucky slumped down in the chair staring blankly ahead, as he spoke a single sentence, his face and voice completely void of expression and emotion.

There was a moment of silence when Steve suddenly snapped grabbing the edge of the table and flipping it over with a loud crash, all of the equipment and computers meeting a rather abrupt end along with it. He felt sick, upset, angry…and he couldn’t help but feel this was his fault for leaving his friend behind.

“Steve?” Katie asked anxiously, whilst she watched his shoulders heave with anger.

“Let’s go.” He instructed sternly, already making his way to the exit.

“Steve?” She called again.

“Now.” He bit back.

Steve didn’t speak a word whilst they drove home. Once they were in the apartment he stormed straight through the hall and up the stairs to the bed room. Katie turned to Sam who was hovering in the hall.

“That went well.” he quipped.

Katie sighed, walking into the kitchen and handed Sam a water which he thankfully took, draining it in one go.

“The thing is, Sam…” she ran a hand over her face “It’s gonna get worse, the more we dig, the more we’re going to find.”

“Yeah well, on that note I’m going to go back to the bank, do a bit more digging of my own tonight.” Sam sighed “See if I can find something that would give us an indication as to when exactly Bucky hit the base, might help us piece together a timeline of sorts.”

“Alright, but be careful, yeah?”

“I’m always careful, sugar!” Sam grinned, and Katie rolled her eyes. “Listen, you gonna be ok?”

“Yeah, I’ll give him some time. He’ll come round, he’s just…” she paused searching for the right word before she concluded “sad.”

Sam nodded “Call you tomorrow then, I’m at the VA in the morning but my afternoon is free”

“Will do…oh, and Sam?”

He turned around and Katie threw him the keys to the Q5 as he still hadn’t replaced his car. “Take this, but bring it back in once piece.”

“Cheers dude!” He beamed, catching the keys expertly before he headed out of the door.

Once he was gone, Katie walked over to the sofa and dropped down onto it, pulling out her phone. She knew it was late, but Tony answered straight away.

“Did it work?” She asked instantly.

“Did it work…” Tony snorted “I made the damned device, of course it did. JARVIS took everything off their system…he’s already sifting through and cross referencing… any mention of Barnes in any form he’ll find it.”

“Thanks Tony.”

“There is something he has found thought, that’s kinda interesting, but also very worrying.”

“What?”

“He found an encoded list of locations, locations for HYDRA bases across the globe. Curiosity got the better of me, and I ran a couple of cross checks on the bases that were already captured or infiltrated, and it matches 80%…”

“Yeah, there’s bases out there that didn’t fall… that’s what Fury’s doing, you know this.”

“Well here’s the thing…” Tony sighed “That 80% rallies to around 10 bases. One-Eye-Willy knew about 6, which he is currently working on with SHIELD or whatever they’re called now. The other 4 were unknown, until now.”

“Shit.” Katie sighed. If they had gone unknown, unchallenged, then it was possible that more of Hydra remained than they thought.

“Pretty much what Fury said when I called him.” Tony replied “Anyway, I think it’s time we put the band back together Kiddo…”

She groaned. “Steve already turned Fury down to find Bucky first.”

“Well, for once I’m inclined to agree with the Goth Pirate.” Tony continued “I think rounding the last of these bastards up is slightly more pressing than Spangles chasing his old school buddy.”

“Don’t call him that…” She sighed, rubbing her hands over her face.

“Fury says he’ll make contact with Natasha and Clint, no idea how to reach Point Break though. I called his girlfriend, or paramour, whatever, who said he was off chasing something, no idea what, but when he comes back she’s gonna tell him we’re looking for him.”

“I’ll talk to Steve…but I can’t promise anything.”

“If anyone can talk him round it’s you.” He said, his voice adopting a more sympathetic tone “You know, there’s no reason why we can’t look for Barnes along the way. I mean it’s all Hydra, right?”

“Yeah, good point. Let me talk to him. I’ll call you tomorrow, or later today, whatever.”

“No sweat, take care. Love you kiddo.”

“You too Tones”

Katie dropped her phone onto the couch and sighed. Time to tackle Steve. She unzipped her combat boots, shucked them off and headed up the stairs. She gently opened the bedroom door and saw Steve, hair damp from the shower, led on the bed, looking up at the ceiling.

“Hey.” She crawled onto the bed next to him and propped herself up on her elbows so she could look at him.

“Hi.” He rolled his head to accept the kiss she offered as she reached a hand up to twine in the hair at the top of his head. “I’m sorry.” He leaned into her hand like a dog seeking attention. Katie opened her arms to let Steve snuggle into them, like a child, as she rolled onto her back, his head laying on her chest as her hand continued to tangle in his hair.

“Do you think we’re wasting our time? Looking for him?” Steve asked after a moment.

Katie hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “Bucky has been brainwashed and tortured by HYDRA for longer than I’ve been alive. It’s going to take more than saving you from the river to bring back the man you knew” she took a deep breath “I think we’re going to struggle chasing someone as resourceful as he is when he doesn’t want to be found. And we may have another problem…”

“Like what?” He asked, frowning at her.

“I just spoke to Tony. J has been going through the info that we pulled from the servers. Apparently there’s a list of 4 secret Hydra bases that no one knew about, not even Fury, that didn’t go down when we took out SHIELD.”

Steve let out a groan “So now I have to choose, between Bucky and taking down what remains of Hydra…”

Katie kissed his head sympathetically as the turmoil raged within his brain. They couldn’t let Hydra get a foothold again. But he didn’t want to let Bucky down either.

“You know, going after Hydra might help.” Katie spoke softly “I mean, we have nothing other than vague ideas and supposition about where Bucky is or what he has planned next. We might find something along the way. In the meantime, Sam can keep working our current angle and line of thought.”

“You’re right.” he said after a pause “I’ve tried twice to bring these bastards down. I can’t let them slip through my fingers a third time.”

*****

“Gotta say Cap, you’re looking better than last time I saw you.” Tony grnned as they entered the lab in the tower.

“I feel it!” Steve smiled, shaking Tony’s hand.

“What you looking at?” Katie asked, nodding to the screen, taking in the map.

“Got JARVIS running a bit of an analysis on the bases we found out about. Terrain surrounding them, best places to land the jet, potential areas of weakness that kinda thing.” He said, “Could take a while but, best to be prepared with some form of plan I suppose.”

Katie turned to Steve, grinning, about to launch into a rendition of “Star Spangled Man with a Plan” but Steve gave her a filthy look, knowing full well what was going through her mind. She grinned at him innocently and he turned his attention back to Tony.

“Any news on the others?”

“Banner is due back at some point tomorrow. He’s at some kind of Scientist band camp…” Tony waved his hand. “Barton is on his way, but you already know that. As for Nat…well she said she’ll be here when she can…which just leaves Point Break to show, whenever he’s back from riding the rainbow road that is.”

“He’ll turn up.” Katie shrugged “If all else fails I’ll do what he told me to when we needed him.”

“Which was what?” Steve asked, looking at Katie, frowning. As if she knew how to contact him and hadn’t said anything…

“Stand on top of a tall building a shout.” she said, grinning. Steve gave a roll of his eyes as Tony snorted. “Although I think he may have been joking.”

“Maybe we should get him some kind of Bat Signal” Tony mused “but with a hammer instead of a bat.”

“No.” Katie shook her head and Tony pouted at her.

“Why do you always piss on my parade?”

“Because your parade is usually dumb. Look we’re gonna go upstairs and unpack a few things.”

“Sure.” Tony nodded. “Oh, happy said he’ll get your apartment in DC cleared over the next week, and I thought we could go for something to eat tonight. Do the whole…” he waved his hand in a circle motion as he looked back at the screen, “fmily thing.

“Sounds great.” Katie smiled, looking at Steve who nodded, thankful of something ‘normal’ to look forward to, and the pair of them made to leave.

“By the way, I renovated the living floors so your Penthouse has had a bit of a facelift.” Tony said. Katie stopped and turned to face him.

“What do you mean facelift?” She frowned “I liked my floor…”

“Yeah but when I did the rooms for everyone else they got new furniture so I ordered you some too. If you don’t like it you can change it, no big deal. I didn’t change the décor to much…I know how much of a princess you are about people touching your stuff”

“Princess here technically owns forty percent of this tower so…” She flicked him the finger and he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah yeah…there’s a spare suite for you anyway Spangles opposite Thor’s, you know, just in case you get pissed off with her. No one would blame you if you did…”

“You’re a dick.” She rolled her eyes at her brother and turned back towards the elevator.

In all fairness Katie did actually quite like the changes Tony had made. Her penthouse spanned the entire floor below Tony’s whilst everyone else shared a floor a couple of levels down with another Avenger. Perks of ownership, after all. There was a new coffee and cream coloured L shaped sofa in the room, a walnut coffee table replaced the glass one that had been there, and a brand new HD OLED TV adorned the wall opposite, along with a media system. A state of the art sound system was installed and the kitchen was completely new and had been knocked through to the dining area giving them a huge open plan space similar to the layout of the apartment in DC. There was frankly the biggest bed Steve had ever seen in the bedroom and the furniture was sleek, with a slightly smaller TV adorning the wall opposite the bed. The en-suite now sported his and hers sinks along with a double shower, a corner spa tub and there was a smaller bathroom just off the hallway along with another bedroom, a study and a balcony spanned the entire length of the floor, which was accessible from the main bedroom and the kitchen-diner. It overlooked the New York skyline and contained a small patio area and a hot-tub along with some outside furniture. But true to his word, Tony had kept the colour scheme. Different shades of blue throughout the bedroom, steel grey in the kitchen and warm coffee and walnut colours in the lounge.

Steve loved it.

As promised, late that evening, the two of them accompanied Pepper and Tony out for dinner. They had gone to Anatolia’s, an Italian restaurant on the outskirts of Brooklyn much to Steve’s delight. It had been a really nice evening, the 4 drinking and eating far too much but as Tony had pointed out, things were about to get a little bit crazy so who knew when the next time they would get chance to relax and socialise was.

“Other than your 30th that is.” he said, looking at Katie over his wine.

“So there is something planned…” she grinned.

“Maybe.” Steve shrugged. Oh, he had something planned alright. He’d spoken to Tony about it a week or so ago, the Inventor gleefully agreeing with his idea.

“Man, my little sis is turning 30 in 3 weeks…I feel so old.” Tony continued to grumble.

“You are!” she teased.

“Yeah but not as old as your boyfriend…”

“Well done, you almost went a full evening without mentioning it.” Steve dead panned, folding his arms.

“You know he’s technically younger than me, Tones.” Katie said “

“What?” Steve looked at her, “How do you work that out.”

“You were born in July 1918 right, went into the ice in, what, March 1945?”

“Yeah…”

“Woke up in May 2012. So when you count how many years you spent actually awake and living, and not taking a cold nap, you’re really only 29 this time round.”

“So Captain America is your toy-boy?” Pepper giggled. Katie shrugged and took a sip of her wine as Tony and Steve looked at one another, both of them wearing expressions of bewilderment.

“Wait, does this mean we can throw a Happy 97 minus 67 party for Spangles next year?” Tony grinned and Steve let out a groan.

“See what you’ve done?” he looked at Katie with exasperation, and she just shrugged.

The night ended with a few drinks in a bar before a car picked them up and the couples both bid each other goodnight before going their separate ways

“That was proper pizza.” Steve said as they walked out of the elevator into their living area, the panel sliding in place leaving the door hidden.

Katie laughed as JARVIS gently flipped on the ambient lighting. “Well you certainly enjoyed it…getting through 2”

“Yeah, think the last 3 slices were a mistake” he mumbled as she headed into the kitchen. “They’re sitting in me like a brick.”

“Awwww poor baby!” she mocked thickly. “Getting so old you can’t even have a few slices without indigestion.”

“Hey, I’m younger than you, remember?” He laughed as Katie pulled 2 beers out of the fridge handing him one as she glided past him to flop onto the couch.

“I’m gonna regret pointing that out, aint i?” She laughed as Steve nodded.

*****

Katie had a meeting with her Editors and New Business department the next morning and Steve had a job of his own, a different mission that he was fucking nervous as hell about. He asked JARVIS where Tony was, who located him in the large, open plan main common room area of the tower, the one Loki and the Hulk had decimated 2 years previously.

“Tony you got a minute?”

“S'up Cap?”

Steve took a deep breath “I err…” his palms suddenly felt sweaty. “You know I love Katie and…" He cleared his throat before he looked Tony square in the eye, surprised to find the man watching him, warmth across his features. “She’s the most important thing in my life, and I…well, I wanted to ask for your permission, to ask her to marry me.”

“My permission?” Tony quipped.

“Well I’d normally ask her dad but…”

Tony smiled and glanced down at hands before he looked back at the blonde haired man stood besides him. “You gonna do better than a ‘we can get married if you want’ outside your apartment door?”

Steve let out a sigh and shook his head “she told you about that?”

“In the hospital” Tony smiled.

“Not my finest moment” Steve rubbed at his temple.

“Oh I dunno.” Tony said pushing off the front of the Bar area where he had been leaning. “Given the fact you were inches from death she was pretty upset at the fact she told you to come back with a Tiffany special…”

Steve smiled.

“You got one yet?” Tony asked. “A ring I mean.”

“No.” Steve shook his head.

“Well it just so happens I know one of the consultants at Tiffany.” Tony smiled, and Steve looked at him, his face creeping into a smile as he knew that this was Tony’s confirmation he was giving him his blessing. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll make a call.“

The two men looked at one another, sharing a silent moment of respect before Tony reached out with his hand and Steve shook it, a shit-eating-grin spreading across his handsome features.

“Oh fuck this, come on Spangles, bring it in. I’m secure enough in my sexuality to hug another man.” Tony sniffed, and Steve stood up off the bar stool with a chuckle, the men exchanging a quick embrace, punctuated by a lot of back slapping.

“For what it’s worth…” Tony smiled as he stepped back, his eyes shining with emotion. “You make her happy, you treat her right, you put her first and I’ve never seen anyone metaphorically slap her back into place as well as you do….sorry, lot of dust in here…” he wiped at his suddenly watering eyes, water that may or may not have been tears before he took a breath and looked at Steve again “I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather grant permission to.”

Steve smiled, his own eyes shining with emotion.

“And I’m pretty sure you’d have gotten it off dad too.” Tony nodded at him and Steve looked at the floor for a second before he glanced back up at him, taking a deep breath.

“Thank you Tony.”

*****

“What is this?” Thor’s voice was loud. “I can’t see them…”

“No you turn it…hang on” The 4 Avengers in the lab looked at one another, Tony grinning from ear to ear as Jane was trying to explain how to use the video call facility on her phone.

“He’s worse than you!” He grinned up at Steve who merely rolled his eyes as Bruce stifled a grin.

Eventually Thor’s face, or rather his left nostril filled their screen and all of them urged him to move the phone away. Finally he did so, and his handsome face beamed down at us all.

“Greetings!” he smiled “It is good to see you all again, Little Stark you look as radiant as ever.” “Thanks Thor!” Katie laughed as besides her Steve bristled a little bit.

“Jane says you need my help.”

“Yeah, we got a job Point Break.” Tony said.

“Is this to do with SHIELD and Hydra?” the God’s deep voice rumbled.

“You know about that?” Katie asked.

“Of course, it was all over the news. I watch that now, with Jane” he said, a glint in his eyes, “But that reminds me, I have a bone to pick with both you and the Captain…”

Steve frowned and looked at Katie, the pair of them sharing a glance before they looked back at the screen.

“I saw you both on the television fighting SHIELD alongside the Birdman…” Thor continued, ignoring Katie and Steve’s laughter as they both thought of Sam’s face if he could hear that nickname, “Why didn’t you call me? You know how much I love fighting.”

“They didn’t send for me either…” Tony said, putting his hand up.

“Call you, do you have a cell phone?” Katie looked at Thor.

“No, what for?”

She didn’t reply, instead she looked away trying not to laugh at the perplexed look on the God’s face

“We have a lot of loose ends to tie up.” Steve spoke, steering the conversation back to the purpose in hand. “Not all of Hydra went down when we took SHIELD out.”

Thor’s face split into a grin. “More fighting?”

“More fighting.” Tony said, as Banner let out a small sigh.

“Why is there always fighting?”

They explained the basics of what was going on to Thor, before he promised to join them as soon as he could and then Banner headed off to shower and to unpack following his trip.

“I’m going to head to the office for a few hours.” Katie said. Steve nodded.

“Tony and I have stuff to do.” he said simply, but met her gaze with a passive one of his own as she glanced at him, arching her eyebrow.

“Ohh…I get it…” she grinned, “You’re sorting my birthday surprise. Cute.” As she turned to go she walked straight into the desk behind her, jabbing the corner harshly into her thigh.

“You alright?” Steve asked, trying but failing to hide the chuckle in his voice at her clumsiness.

“Thanks for your genuine concern.” She grumbled, instantly rubbing where the sharp corner had dug into her. “Shit, that hurt…Jesus fucking Christ…”

"Ooooh, hey. You kiss Spangles with that mouth?” Tony raised an eyebrow at her

“Yes, Tony, I kiss him all over with that mouth.” She glared at him as she rubbed her thigh. “Every inch of –”

Tony clapped his hands over his ears. “Lalalalalalalalala! I can’t hear you!”

Once Katie was out of earshot, Tony turned to Steve “You get it?”

He nodded, holding up his mother’s ring that he had managed to slip of when Katie was sleeping.

“Alright, let’s go.”

They drove the short distance into Manhatten, and Tony parked his car up in a private space behind the department store they were visiting. Steve followed him into the store where they were greeted by a small, grey haired mousy looking man dressed in an immaculate 3 piece suit.

“Mr Stark, Captain Rogers.”

“Hi Robert.” Tony smiled at him, clapping Steve on the shoulder “Take good care of him, he’s shitting himself.”

Steve sighed and shook his head but the inventor had already wandered off to the other side of the store, examining something in one of the glass cases.

“It’s perfectly understandable to be nervous, it’s a big thing.” Robert smiled, gesturing for Steve to follow him. He did, as they walked across the store to a small room at the back. Steve walked in and dropped into a seat. “So, do you have anything specific in mind?”

Steve took a deep breath, “Something elegant, but flashy enough to be special, I’ve no idea really, other than she prefers white gold to yellow.”

Robert smiled at him, “White gold or platinum. Ok. Any idea on the cut of diamond?”

“Princess.” Steve said, smiling. That he did know, from way before they were even dating.

“Oh my god!” Katie said, looking at the gossip magazine Natasha was reading, as Steve peered up at them from the seat behind his desk. “That’s fucking hideous.”

Natasha snorted “20 carat apparently.”

“Who the fuck needs a 20 carat ring?” Katie shook her head.

“I dunno, not something Tony would buy for Pepper?”

“Nah he isn’t that tacky.” she shook her head “And I’d kick his ass, it’s so…garish.”

“I don’t think the cut helps” Nat said, holding the magazine up “It’s a Brilliant, so looks a bit..”

“Shit?” Katie offered and the girls laughed “Seriously, if I ever have a man who’s ready to propose you better tell him it’s Princess or bust…”

He and Robert chatted for a few moments, Steve assuring him that the budget was healthy, whilst the man headed off into the store and came back with a few options set on a blue velvet tray of sorts. Steve’s eyes were instantly drawn to one in the middle. It was held a large diamond and was set into an elaborate clasp which melted into the band which was studded with smaller diamonds.

“Ahh yes.” Robert smiled as Steve picked it up “That’s one of my favourites. It’s a Tiffany Novo…”

“Sorry, did you say Nova?” Steve’s head jerked up, a smile on his face.

“Novo, Captain.”

Close enough Steve thought as he grinned.

“Princess cut with a Pave set Diamond band in platinum. That one’s a 2.05 carat, but we can do it smaller.”

“No, this one is perfect.” Steve smiled, looking at him.

“Well, that was easy…” Robert quipped and Steve nodded, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah…” he let out a chortle of a laugh, “you had me at Novo.”

Robert frowned, but didn’t ask for an explanation. “That one there is Sixty-Six thou…”

“Holy shit.” Steve exclaimed, before hastily apologising for his outburst. He knew he had said he had a decent budget but…

“However, Captain, seeing as it’s you, I can shave twenty percent off that, leave my commission.” he man smiled as Steve began to protest “And offer you a further ten percent for Tony being a regular customer.”

“I couldn’t…”

“You guys saved my daughter’s life in New York.” Robert looked at him, smiling softly “She was in the bank.”

Steve took a deep breath and shrugged, a faint flush on his cheeks. “Just doing my job.”

“So am I. So we’ll call it forty, and I’ll throw in an extra eighteen months care package. So she can bring it in to be cleaned, repaired should anything happen to it over the next three years.”

Steve hesitated, it was a lot of money. He knew he had enough, more than enough. His wages from SHIELD had been generous, plus his Army back pay that Katie and Fury had secured for him had been piling up and earning interest, but he still wasn’t used to being able to just flash it around. Plus now he wasn’t technically earning either…but the more he looked at it, the more he just knew it was right.

And she was worth far more to him than anything money could buy.

“I’ll take it.” He nodded, decision made.

He handed Robert his Ma’s ring, which Katie had had resized to fit properly and Robert nodded, smiling as he slid it onto a measuring cone.

“You’re in luck Captain. We have one that size in stock so you can take it away today. Whilst we’re here, would you like me to give this one a polish?”

“Oh, err, yeah, great.”

He shook hands with the man and headed back into the store where Tony was now leaning over a cabinet, talking to a blonde haired assistant. He pointed at a necklace with an obscene price tag, and she nodded, picking it up and turning around.

“Something for Pep.” he said, gesturing to the gift as he nodded at Steve. “You know, just because.” he frowned “That was fast.”

“Found the perfect one.” Steve smiled “It’s called a Novo”

“Nova?” Tony looked at him, eyebrow raising as he smirked.

“No, Novo…although that’s what I heard too at first.” Steve laughed.

“Huh.” Tony said, as Robert approached them. He opened the box he was holding and reached in for the ring, setting it down on a velvet tray again to show to the men. It was even brighter in the store lights than in the room. Steve heard Tony whistle at the side of him.

“That’s a rock and a half Cap.”

“She’s worth it.” he shrugged, simply. “I just hope she likes it.”

“If she doesn’t we can exchange.” Robert said, as he finished his inspection and after making himself happy the ring was perfect he boxed it up and handed it to Steve in a Tiffany bag.

“Cap, you could propose with a ring pull and she’d say it was perfect.” Tony smiled.

“Now you tell me.” Steve said, handing over his credit card.

*******

“Shit, shit, shit…” Katie was panicking. Her ring was gone. Steve’s Ma’s ring. The one he had given to her at Christmas. The only real thing he had of his mom left. She’d ransacked the bedroom, living room, her office. “No,no…”

She made her way back into the kitchen, looking everywhere, before she headed into the bathroom. Nothing. She collapsed onto the closed toilet seat, her head in her hands as she began to cry when she heard the elevator door open.

Steve stopped as he walked into the living room, frowning at the utter chaos that greeted him. Cushions were all over the place, drawers in the large unit were flung open. Immediately he went on the defensive, knowing it was ridiculous as there was no way anyone could have gotten in here, but still…

“Katie?” he called. Katie’s head jerked up and she wiped her eyes

“Bathroom.” she said back, and he could tell from her tone something was wrong.

“Doll, what’s going on?” He strode into the bedroom and then stepped into the large en-suite. She’d been crying. “Baby?” he crouched in front of her.

“I…I’m so sorry…” Her voice cracked. “But your mom’s ring… I can’t…”

Steve felt a sudden pang of guilt, she was distraught, thinking she had lost it. He hadn’t thought of that.

“No, sweetheart, it’s ok, I’ve got it.”

“You do?” she frowned.

“Yeah.” he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled it out. “I was looking at it when you were asleep last night and thought it could do with a bit of a clean-up so I took it off and Tony took me to a place Pepper takes hers…”

Katie looked at the ring, before she felt her anger simmer over.

“You complete ass Steven Grant Rogers!” she yelled, hitting him in the chest “I’ve spent the last 3 hours out of my mind with worry…”

“I know, I should have told you but I wanted it to be a surprise.” Steve lied, hoping to god for once she wouldn’t see through it “I’m so sorry!”

She snatched it off him, returning it to its home and she glared at him, before looking down at it.

“Well, it does look nice and shiny” she said, admiring it and Steve let out a sigh of relief “Don’t touch my stuff.”

“Your stuff?” he looked at her as she wiped at her face.

“Yes, my stuff.” she repeated petulantly. “You gave it to me, remember. It’s mine.”

He was about to laugh and call her a brat, when there was a loud clap of thunder and a flashing of bright white light, punctuated by various rainbow colours, outside the bedroom window and they both turned their heads to look at it.

“Thor!” Katie said, jumping up and beaming.

“Am I forgiven?” Steve asked, rising to his feet. She turned and looked at him, rolling her eyes at the injured puppy dog eyes he was giving her.

“Pull another stunt like that again and I’m imposing a sex ban for a week.”

“Yes Ma’am.” he grinned, giving her a peck on the lips.

****

Thor’s arrival spurred the Avengers into getting down to some real planning, and when Clint arrived that day too, bringing with him the news that Natasha would be with them by the middle of June- she was on some kind of trip with Fury-those of them present began to take all the information they had, planning their first raid on one of the uncovered Hydra bases, this one being on the outskirts of Seattle.

“Your call Cap.” Tony looked at Steve, his jaw was twitching as he turned over the pros and cons of hitting the base whilst they were still one down on the team. Eventually he made his decision and looked around the team.

Suit up…” he said, straightening up “Wheels up in 20”

Behind him Banner groaned.

He needn’t have worried though, there was no need for a code green. In fact, it was a bit of a damp squib. There were minimum guards to take out and all in all it was relatively easy. There were also no computers, just a truck load of paper files which they meticulously boxed up and loaded onto the jet.

Over the next two weeks they hit the remaining unknown basis that they had discovered, and every one of them was the same. They were clearly never used as main strongholds, more like storage facilities if anything. Steve was frustrated, Katie knew that. But as she and Tony pointed out to him, they had a hell of a lot of information to comb through. They liaised with Fury, who had nothing new to add, other than that he would be in touch if his team needed help about the remaining bases in Europe.

As such they spent most of their time filtering through the information they had gotten from the bases, along with the boxes of files that Fury and Hill had pulled from SHIELD. Banner and Katie (when she wasn’t working) set up a simple filing system as they went along, cataloguing each bit of paper information so they knew where to find it in future, and could add to it as they went along.

There wasn’t much to go on, they didn’t find any new information, and nothing on Bucky, but there was one name that continued to crop up time and time again.

“Baron Von Strucker…” Katie said to the team which was congregated in the lab. “I’ve gone through the information available, including what was dumped on the internet when we released all the files…it isn’t pretty reading.”

Clint lounged with his feet up on the desk munching some popcorn. He offered it round and Tony took a hand full.

“Not likely to be where Hydra is involved.” he said, leaning against a desk, chucking the popcorn in his mouth.

Steve who had been flicking through a file clucked slightly with his tongue and shook his head “Says here he trained with Jasper Sitwell at the Preparatory Academy.”

Tony began choking and at first Katie thought it was reaction to the fact that Hydra had an academy but she soon realised, as he was pointing at Clint with a disgusted expression on his face that it was the popcorn. She grinned- Clint like his popcorn laced with cayenne pepper.

“What is wrong with butter and salt?” Tony gasped as Clint explained what was on the corn through his laughter. Thor reached over curiously and took a handful before declaring, much to Clint’s annoyance, that he enjoyed the spicy snack.

“He had his fingers in a lot of SHIELD pies” Katie continued “He was running the SHIELD STATION, which is the Scientific Training and Tactical Intelligence Operative Network, an R&D facility which was established to conduct investigations on the material retrieved from the ground during the battle of New York, you know, the shit Fury said he had destroyed?”

“Alright.” Steve nodded “Dig up what you can on it and then we’ll go from there. From the sounds of it he seems like the one we should be focussing on.”

Katie nodded.

“But not tonight.” Tony said, looking at Steve “I think we deserve a break, especially seeing as it’s someone’s 30th tomorrow.”

The room cheered and Katie rolled her eyes “Yeah yeah…don’t remind me.”

*****

Katie woke the next morning to soft kisses peppering the side of her neck and a deep burn growing at her centre as she was slowly pulled to consciousness. She let out a low moan and felt the lips at her throat spread into a sly smile

“You dreaming about me?” her Soldier whispered.

She bit her lip, arching her back and leaned into him as his hand splayed on her stomach, pulling her closer before she felt his fingers sliding down gently to the space between her legs. She didn’t say a word, she couldn’t. It was all she could do to simply groan as he gently pushed two fingers inside her, before he moved to massaging her spot. She pulled her legs together suddenly, thighs tightening as the muscles in her core clenched.

“You want more?” he asked, voice slow and deep.

She nodded eagerly, moving so that she was lay on her back and finally opened her eyes.

Steve gently moved, so his knee was positioned between her legs, sliding his T-shirt over her head before one hands moved up her body, tracing her ribs before he started to caress her breast, the other fingers continued to stroke inside, making her groan more and more. He placed a soft kiss on her jawline and smiled at her.

“Happy birthday, Gorgeous.”

His words undid her, and she let out a sound that was halfway between a gasp and a squeal, feeling for him under the sheets “Steve…” Every inch of her was on fire and he wanted him. “Please…” she begged, her voice catching as he moved over on top of her fully, shoving his boxers down and she let out a long shaky moan as he entered her.

“Good?” he asked, his breath a whisper and she nodded eagerly as he began to move. His thrusts were slow but deep and powerful, every roll of his hips sent his pelvis rocking up against her spot.

It didn’t take long at all, she was so close already and Steve watched her face, not wanting to miss the moment.

“Fuck…” Her head completely dropped backwards as her core spasmed again and then she came, hard, her orgasm rolling over her in such a way it had her clinging to Steve, crying out a strangled cry as he too reached his peak, her name tumbling from his lips.

The minutes passed as they lay curled in silence, completely blissed out and relaxed, hearing only each other’s gradually steadying breaths.

Steve’s hand gently stroked the arm that was draped over his abdomen before he gently moved her to one side, sitting up. He had things to do.

“Hey…” she began to protest before he smiled.

“I’m going to make you breakfast”

“You are?”

“Of course, it’s your birthday” He chuckled, from the edge of the bed where he was pulling on a pair of sweats.

"Pancakes,” she muttered hopefully.

He laughed. “Yup,” he said before lowering his lips onto hers. They shared a long, deep kiss that left them grinning like idiots as he pulled away, hopping off the bed and pulling on a t-shirt before leaving the room.

Katie stretched out and glanced over at the clock on the bedside table. It was half 9. A perfectly reasonable time to wake up on her birthday. And the best bit was, she had an entire day of being a spoilt birthday brat ahead of her! Steve was taking her to Coney Island in the afternoon, he had been dying to take her back to Brooklyn for ages and they’d picked today to go after the team had decided to take a break from the non-stop research and missions. Then later in the evening there was some form of meal booked, although where she had absolutely no idea. She’d been trying to catch everyone out about it for weeks but failed, miserably.

She was just about to get out of bed and into the shower when she heard her phone vibrating on the nightstand beside her bed. She reached over for it, and rolled her eyes. It was Tony.

“Happy birthday kiddo! How does it feel to be officially old?”

“You still got fourteen years on me, you dick!” she said, grinning before she yawned slightly “Why are you ringing me when you’re, what? A floor away?”

“Wasn’t sure if you’d be up or not.”

“Well there’s no worries on that account as for my birthday Steve got me a new alarm clock.”

“An alarm clock?” Tony said, his tone flat

“Yeah.” she said, biting her lip as she fought to keep myself from laughing “His penis.”

There was a pause “That’s gross.” Tony groaned and Katie laughed as he continued to complain “I mean it’s bad enough knowing that you two…you know, without being given some form of mental image like that…”

“Oh quit your whining!” she grinned “When you bringing me my present?”

“Ah well, you’ll have to come get it, it’s a bit big.”

“Big?” I said “It’s not a 16 foot teddy bear is it?”

It was his turn to laugh “No, although, speaking of big, stuffed animals, what did Cap actually get you?”

“You’re hilarious, and I’ve no idea. He’s making me breakfast at the moment.”

“More sausage?” he said sardonically.

“Pancakes, actually” she replied “Which is why I need to go and have a shower before he eats them all himself…”

“Alright, come up when you’re ready…” he said. “Not going anywhere…”

By the time she made her way into the large open plan living area, Steve had already completed 2 stacks of pancakes (his miles bigger than hers), a plate of bacon and was just setting 2 glasses of orange juice down on the breakfast bar in front of the 2 plates. He looked up and smiled, she was dressed casually for a day at the fair, tight jeans, boots and long white top, over which she wore an open beige half-sleeved cardigan, and her hair was pulled up into a high, messy pony tail. She looked beautiful as ever.

“You look lovely.” He said, pressing a kiss to the side of her head as she sat down. “So, how does it feel to be old?” He could barely get the words out without laughing, and she simply shook her head at his poor attempt at a joke

“You’re such a jerk!” She rolled her eyes, as he grinned.

They ate breakfast, and then like the big child she was she demanded to know where her presents were so Steve took her hand and led her into the living room where they were laid out on the coffee table.

She opened her gifts one by one, a few items of clothing, a pair of earrings, a new set of wireless earphones that she had mused over buying and then decided not to, a gorgeous white and rose gold diamond bracelet and a leather bound edition of the Wizard of Oz book to replace the one she had lost in Malibu.

“I saw that and couldn’t resist.” He grinned, as she grinned back “oh and here…”

This was the big one. He held out the envelope and Katie looked at him, gently taking it before she slid a finger under the top to rip it open. Steve watched as she pulled out the piece of paper and for the second time that morning her mouth dropped open in surprise. It was a print out of an itinerary leaving the 30th November and returning on the 14th December, with the locations being cities in Europe- Munich, Paris, Venice, Bruges, Dublin and London.

“2 nights in each…3 in London” Steve said as she glanced up at him, unable to speak “I didn’t know what else to do and I know you’ve wanted to go back to Europe for ages, and how much you love Christmas and the markets and stuff…”

“Oh my god, Steve… ” She glanced down at the paper, finally finding her voice. “This is amazing! I don’t know what to say.” Steve felt the familiar pink tinge growing around his cheeks before she threw her arms around him, “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

He smiled and then kissed her head before he pulled away. “Shall we go and see what outrageously flashy present Tony has for you?”

“Do you know what is is?” she asked.

“I might do…” he smiled as she stood up. There was no might about it. He knew what it was. And he knew she was going to lose her shit about it.

The two of them made their way up to Tony’s main living floor, her hand in his.

“You now I’m excited to finally take you to Coney Island.” He smiled as the door to the elevator shut.

“Excited?”

"Yeah, it’s just I watched Bucky take so many dates around there and I spent most of my time wondering when I was gonna’ get to take my own gal.” He admitted, bashfully.

"God, you’re adorable,” she smiled at him as the doors opened.

“Happy birthday!” Both Tony and Pepper chimed and she grinned, stepping out and into Pepper’s arms before Tony swept her into a hug.

“Well I don’t see any huge stuffed toys so…” she looked around and Pepper snorted.

“I talked him out of it.”

Tony handed her a small box and Katie looked at him.

“This isn’t big.”

“Brat.” Tony rolled his eyes and she smirked. She pulled the ribbon of the box, took the lid off and stared at the content inside. And as it dawned on her what it was she looked up at him, then to Steve, who was watching her, an amused expression on her face, then back at the box her eyes wide.

“You didn’t?” she looked up at her brother, her mouth dropping open.

Tony shrugged “Well you buried your Range Rover and gave away the Audi so…”

She looked at him for a split second before she squealed, threw herself at her brother and then turned on her heels, running.

Steve and Tony both watched her go before they turned to one another and followed her.

“You ready?” Tony asked.

“As I’ll ever be.” Steve nodded.

“Huh.” Tony nodded.

“Ready for what?” Pepper asked.

“Oh, they’re going to Coney Island.” Tony said as they headed down in the elevator, waving away her question.

Way ahead of them Katie burst into the parking lot and skidded to a halt. There, in all its glory was her own brand new Chevrolet Camero Exorcist, the car she had dreamed of since she was a teenager. It was gorgeous. Deep blue with cream leather interior. She unlocked it and sat in the driver’s seat, taking in the smell. The head rests were stitched with the Stark Industries logo and the dash was awash with every single button and function you could imagine.

“Fire it up.” a voice said, and Tony looked at her through the open driver’s side door. She did as she was told and grinned at the beautiful growling noise it made and squealed, feeling the leather of the steering wheel.

She turned to Steve who was stood leaning slightly on the door watching her.

“Hop in soldier!” she grinned, and he smirked, walking to the passenger side.

“Have fun…” Tony said, before he turned to Steve and looked at him, giving him a significant nod and a clap on the shoulder. Steve smiled back and then sank into the leather seat. He had to admit the car was nice. Katie pulled out of the space and gave a groan that was far too arousing than it should have been.

“Oh my god…” she murmured, as she pulled onto the street. The car purred and handled like a dream. As she put her foot down it sped forward, throwing them both back in the seat.

“Easy baby!” Steve chuckled as she laughed, speeding over Brooklyn Bridge. “You’re gonna get a ticket…”

She shrugged, not actually caring at that point.

*****

Steve wound up, pitching the ball which sliced through the bottles on the stall diagonally, knocking them completely off their pedestal and sending the ball through the back of the canvas booth as it ripped a hole clean through it. Steve bit his lip, not realising how hard he had thrown it and turned to look at Katie. She was doubled over, laughing at the look on his face, and then laughed even harder at the expression on the attendants face as he glanced from Steve to the bottles on the floor, to the hole in the canvas and back again.

“Which one do you want?” Steve asked, placing his arm around her as the attendant indicated for her to pick a toy.

“I think I’ll have that one…” she said, pointing to a brown bear that was dressed in a Captain America outfit, complete with helmet and shield.

Steve shot her a look and she held out her hands, protesting her innocence. “What?”

“Good choice ma’am” the attendant said, handing over the bear “He’s an all American hero is our Captain.”

“That he is.” She grinned “He’s incredibly handsome too I believe.”

Steve cut her off as he thanked the man before steering her away as he checked his watch. They had about an hour before they needed to get back.

“Come on, let’s take a walk.”

He led them both down to the sea front, pausing to get a hot dog each, and they walked, eating in comfortable silence. The sun was still warm in the sky, the sea was by their side and Katie was lost in her own little world until she realised Steve wasn’t besides her. She turned to look for him, wondering where he was and then spotted him a few yards behind her, crouched on one knee on the well-worn wooden slats of the boardwalk.

“I told you I was gonna ask you properly one day.” He cleared his throat, looking up at her with those blue eyes she loved so much as he held out his hand, opening the small box that was inside. The sun bounced off the surface of the ring and she couldn’t see it fully but she clamped her hands over her mouth. “I know we were a little too late to be each other’s firsts, well in some ways anyway…” he said, and Katie let out a choked giggle. “But I want all my lasts to be with you. Will you marry me, sweetheart?”

“And I told you I’d say yes one day!” She said, her voice cracking with emotion as she removed her hands shakily from her mouth and nodded. “Yes. Yes of course I’ll marry you.”

A few of the by-standers who had been watching started cheering as Steve jumped up, everything around him bar his girl faded to nothing as she threw herself into his arms. He picked her up, laughing like an idiot, his strong arms round her as he twirled her round, the pair of them sharing fast, rapid dizzying pecks on the lips as he held her off the floor. Eventually he set her on her feet, an utterly stupid grin plastered on his face as he looked at her, a grin that wasn’t going to fade any time soon.

“Do I errr have to put it on myself?” She spluttered a laugh, raising an eyebrow.

“What, oh, yeah, right…” he said, stepping back and removing the ring from its home, fumbling slightly before he managed to get it out, holding it in his right hand, but before he could do anything else she grabbed his left hand which contained the box before he could slip it back into his pocket.

“You bought me a Tiffany?” She almost shrieked as she looked at the distinctive blue-green box in her hand.

“Yeah, and if you give me a second you can see it.” Steve chuckled at her. Biting her lip she held out her left hand and he slid the ring onto her finger and she let out a loud gasp.

“Stevie, it’s beautiful.” She whispered, looking at it before she took his face in both her hands. “I love it.”

“I love you.” he murmured into their kiss. He grinned and dropped and arm round her shoulder as they made their way back down the boardwalk, back to the car, Katie’s eyes almost permanently transfixed on her ring.

“You definitely like it?” Steve asked, suddenly feeling nervous as he nodded to her hand

“It’s perfect, but how did you know?” she looked up at him as they reached the other side of the road

“Do the words, ‘big, fuck off Tiffany diamond’ ring any bells?” he looked at her, referencing their conversation outside his flat a few months ago.

“Not about the tiffany.” she shook her head “But the cut. It’s a princess one, the one I’ve always wanted.

“I have a good memory” he smiled, “And I picked that particular one because its a design called a Novo. I thought he said Nova at first.”

Katie laughed as she snaked her arms round his neck. “For the record, this was much a much better proposal than we can get married if you want….”

“Are you ever gonna let me forget that?” he sighed as he leaned down.

“I think you’ve redeemed yourself…” she said as her lips met his.

****

“Tony suggested we have a drink before we meet everyone.” Steve stepped into the elevator and Katie looked at him before she smoothed down her white dress.

“So where are we meeting everyone?”

“It’s a surprise, stop being so impatient.”

“Errr. You can’t tell me off, it’s my birthday.”

“Well stop asking so many questions and just enjoy your night!”

She didn’t get chance to reply as then the elevator doors opened onto the main party floor and there was a loud eruption of noise, making Katie jump.

“SURPRISE!”

Her mouth dropped open as she looked around the room. It was decorated in banners, balloons, and now paper streamers from the party poppers that had just been exploded by their friends. Clint, Thor, Bruce, Rhodey, Sam, Maria Hill, Tony, Pepper, Lawson, Evans, a whole host of people that worked in the offices and a familiar copper haired assassin stepped forward to greet her.

“Miss me?” Nat quipped.

“I can’t…” Katie began to speak, as she hugged her friend back “Oh my God…”

“JARVIS can you record this?” she heard Tony speak. “For this is a monumental occasion. She’s actually speechless…”

Katie turned to look at Steve who had been watching her reaction with a smile on his face. He loved seeing her happy, and he was pretty sure he’d managed to achieve that several times over during the day.

“Did you organise this?” she asked

“Why do you sound so surprised?” he chuckled, stepping forward to kiss her cheek “I had a little help but yeah, it was my idea. Happy Birthday baby.”

Before she could reply Natasha suddenly spoke very loudly.

“What is that?”

“What?” Katie asked, although she knew full well what Natasha was talking about.

“Errrr that?” She grabbed at Katie’s left hand.

The room fell silent.

“What does it look like?” Katie grinned at her

“Holy fucking shit.” Steve heard Clint chuckle as he slid his arm round his fiancées waist and the two of them exchanged a smile.

“We’re getting married” Steve grinned, finally tearing his eyes from Katie to look round the room. There was a pause and he locked eyes with Tony who winked at him before there was a flurry of noise and activity as everyone surged forward to congratulate them.

Tony reached them first and the two men shared a manly hug, which included lots of back slapping before he dropped a kiss to his sister’s cheek as Katie felt a hand grab hers. Natasha scrutinised her newest piece of jewellery before she looked up at Steve.

“You picked that all by yourself?” she looked up at Steve.

“I’m not completely useless” he rolled his eyes.

“I’m impressed Rogers,”

Sam clapped Steve on his back and as the two men began to banter, Tony pulled his sister into his side.

“Congratulations Kiddo.” He said, looking down at her hand “Looks even better on.”

“You’ve seen it?” She frowned.

“I may or may not have taken him to Tiffany’s…” Tony shrugged. “But I promise he picked it all by himself”

“So you knew he was gonna ask me?”

“He asked my permission.” Tony sniffed. “Well I might not be Dad but…”

Katie noticed his eyes were shining and she smiled at him as he continued.

“I want you to know,” Tony’s voice cracked slightly “I couldn’t be prouder of you, or love you more if you were my own.”

“Stop it, you’re making me cry!” Katie exclaimed, the tears in her own eyes gently spilling out as he pulled her into huge hug and she pressed her face into his chest. Eventually she stepped back, the pair of them wiping their eyes and Tony took the opportunity of a distraction, turning to a waiter.

Steve, who had been watching the two siblings saw the emotional exchanged and he stepped forward, as Tony was yelling about champagne for a toast.

“You alright?” Steve asked, gently wiping a tear off her cheek before he slipped his arms around her waist.

“Never been happier.” she beamed, honestly, her hands winding round his neck “ I know I said last year was the best birthday ever but this has smacked it straight out of the park.”

“Glad to hear it.” he smiled, leaning down to kiss her “I love you.”

“God job, seeing as I’m gonna be your wife.” she teased, her hand tangling in the back of his hair.

“Yeah…” he said, the shit eating grin spreading across his face again as he contemplated the words. His wife. “Yeah, you are”

Chapter 19

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #mcu #mcu fanfic #captain america #chris evans #chris evans characters

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zmediaoutlet · 4 years

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in support of wildfire relief, @jesusonthetortillas donated $10, and requested pre-series pining!Sam, with diary discovery. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

After his little lesson from Sabrina, the hot librarian's assistant, it's not hard at all for Dean to find what he's looking for. He drops Sam off at the library the way he usually does, and flirts with Sabrina on his way out like he usually does, but instead of going to his shift at the construction site like Sam thinks he's going to, he circles back around, through the library stacks on the main floor, and waits like a dingus by YOUNG ADULT – ADVENTURE, watching the back of Sam's nerdy, nerdy head where he's hunched at the computer banks, getting up to no kind of good.

It wouldn't have come to this, Dean thinks, if Sam weren't so—he doesn't even know how to think about it. He doesn't know when to pin it down. They were doing okay. Sam ran away, a few years back, but since then he's—well, he's always bitching at Dad and bitching at Dean half the time too, but he's done good in school, he's done his part with the hunting. It was sometime at that last school. September in Maryland. Dad was gone a lot of the time, because Dad always was, and Dean went with him on about half the hunts but Sam got to stay behind, got to just call in research tips and last-minute lore checks, and Dean thought he was pretty happy, as much as Sam ever seemed happy. Chill, just doing his homework at the rickety desk, not complaining any more than usual about Dean's usual dinners of fast food or Kraft or Top Ramen. Seventeen and getting tall and mellowing out, and finally hanging out with his little brother was just fine. Dean thought.

That was two towns ago, three months ago. Dean picks his nails with his pocket knife, leaning on one elbow by the Hardy Boys. Sam's still working away on the computer. Anymore he always is. After school he's always angling for Dean to bring him to the library and if Dean won't drive him then Sam walks, even when it's raining, like it is half the time in frickin Washington, anyway. Always finding a free computer and settling in and disappearing onto the internet. Not coming home until the library closes, and moody if Dean's there when he walks in, and Dean just—he thought they were past all this crap. He thought that maybe Sam had—settled. Figured out how things were, how things had to be.

Well. Either way. Sabrina, with the glasses and the sexy dreads and the legs that very much went all the way to the floor under those wide-legged pants she was always wearing—she gave Dean a computer lesson, free of charge, and he's got a way in, now. Sam won't talk to him, won't hardly look at him. Dean chews the inside of his cheek, watching Sam type on the battered public machine. Sam's not the only one who knows how to research a case, in this family. Dean's going to figure this out. He's gonna fix it.

A bell rings, at five o'clock, like the end of a school day. Sam jerks like he's been shocked and looks up at the ceiling, clearly annoyed. He's been engrossed for two hours, typing away, reading. Real frickin' boring, on Dean's end, but he stayed put. Like staking out a house for a job—nothing to do but wait. He takes a few steps backwards, makes sure the shelves hide his face, and there's a general rustling as people leave—a mom and her kid, and tears because the kid's favorite book wasn't here—and when Dean looks again the computer banks are empty, and Sabrina's checking out the last few patrons, and Sam's—gone. Walking home in the rain, little goth that he is. Fine with Dean, if it gives him a few minutes.

When he settles into the chair Sam was in it's still warm. He opens up Netscape Navigator, the library's homepage welcoming him in a friendly kinda way—big yellow smiley face, that's fun. He goes to where Sabrina taught him, in the menu at the top: view, and then History, where it turns out the computer saves all the webpages you went to just in case you need to find them again, and there—oh, jackpot. Gotcha, Sam.

All kinds of crap. A weather website, a bunch of Ask Jeeves searches, something called DiffEQandU. Some mythology stuff, too, and Dean goes to one that turns out to be a history of kitsune. That's something, at least—Sam doing his important homework, in there with whatever other crap he's been working on.

The last bunch of results are all pages from some website called Livejournal, which Dean's never heard of. He clicks one at random and is brought to—huh. A splashy red page, with a big picture on top of kids graduating from high school in those dorky blue robes. He scrolls down, skimming, looking for the important details among the mess, but it's hard to tell what it is. A forum, it looks like. Kind of like the ones Dean's been on where people trade car parts, or swap ghost stories. A square box, dated yesterday, that says WHEN IS HARVARD'S APP REVIEW???, and a panicky paragraph where some chick might die if she doesn't get in. Another, the day before, with questions about the SAT, and a link that says 43 comments that, when Dean clicks it, brings him to a bunch of apparently teenagers all giving each other tips from some test they're worried about taking.

College. Dean's stomach curls into a knot. It's all—college stuff, applications and tests and deadlines. The usernames are all weird shit: tmntpizzadelivery, quistis4ever, willyshakes. Dean can't tell—is one of these kids Sam?

Sabrina's nearly done with her line of book nerds. Dean rubs a hand over his mouth and clicks away, tries another of the Livejournal results in the history. Another forum, this one apparently about—soccer? Jesus, Sam. Another forum, this one about Conan the Barbarian, and that one's at least easy to snort at, with people's shitty drawings of Red Sonja and excitement about a possible remake. There are personal pages, though, too—one titled Delaware Sucks, in which some girl complains about her life—one titled trent reznor rules my soul, featuring a goth kid who won't shut up about Nine Inch Nails and his bitch of a mother. Another, with a plain blue-and-grey color scheme, with the title on the road, and a new post from today—from an hour ago—with the text just reading, I don't know what to do anymore, and six comments underneath, waiting.

"Hey—ready to go?" Sabrina says.

Dean jerks in his seat. Sabrina's raising her eyebrows at him, behind her glasses, a little smile curving her mouth that promises something a little better than book dust and computer lessons. "I'm always ready," Dean says, grinning, and gets her to roll her eyes—yeah, he's in there—but his eyes drag back to the webpage, the posts. He scrolls down, quick—post after post, waiting to be read. "Real quick—borrow a pen?"

She has one—she's a sexy librarian, of course she has one—and he uncrumples a receipt from his jacket pocket and writes down the URL, careful to get it right. rearviewmirror.livejournal.com. He wants to click on the comments, but.

"Come on, the movie's starting soon," Sabrina says, and Dean closes Netscape, folds the receipt very carefully into his pocket, stands up. He's got a date to make out with a hot chick in the back of a movie theater, and maybe a little more, and Sam's whole Eeyore routine has to take a number. Dean will figure it out. He's got an easy way to run a stakeout, now.

December 4

Still can't decide. Anyone else going through this?

current mood: agonized current music: motorhead (AGAIN)

Comments:

teenagehamburger: Yes!! I still don't know where I want to go. Mom wants me to stay close to home, but Delaware sucksssss. Where are you looking?

rearviewmirror: Anywhere. TBH I'm still not even sure I should apply.

teenagehamburger: WTF?? Of course you should!! College is the big escape, remember?

December 1

He's driving me INSANE

current mood: annoyed current music: motorhead (again)

Comments:

bloodofreptile: lol you got it bad

rearviewmirror: right now I just want to hit him with a brick, actually

teenagehamburger: LOL!! Sorry :( :(

rearviewmirror: Sigh. I guess it could be worse, right?

teenagehamburger: Definitely!! He could be the cute cheerleader from 4th period who doesn't know I exist….

coppertonebuttgirl: oh, sorry hammie, that sucks <3

November 29

The thing is, I don't even want anything crazy? I just want to be—me. Just me, without anyone breathing down my neck. Trig teacher says I could get in to one of the top ten, but I just want to go *anywhere that's not here*

current mood: restless current music: Pearl Jam (home alone!)

Comments:

bloodofreptile: i hear you lol. why don't they get that the rules and hovering and all that shit just makes us want to run faster?

rearviewmirror: Exactly! My teacher keeps talking about college like it's a place to expand your mind and stuff, and that's fine, but lately I just want to expand my horizons. Kind of ironic?

bloodofreptile: yeah lol haven't you lived like everywhere?

rearviewmirror: Feels like it.

teenagehamburger: Is You Know Who going to college too?

November 18

I feel like it shouldn't be this hard. Normal people have it easy.

current mood: indescribable current music: silence

Comments:

coppertonebuttgirl: feel free to talk to me anytime <3

November 3

Dad's gone again. Didn't say goodbye. We went to the movies and he gave me a beer, and we watched the stars for an hour in the parking lot even though it was freaking freezing. Happier than I've been in a while. Don’t want it to change but it has to change.

current mood: current music:

Comments:

teenagehamburger: OMG, that sounds so romantic?? I can't believe you were drinking!! Aren't you underage?

bloodofreptile: lol relax it's not a big deal

teenagehamburger: I'm just saying!!

coppertonebuttgirl: wish it wasn't hard for you <3

bloodofreptile: dude you've got to say something

rearviewmirror: I literally can't.

bloodofreptile: ok but it's gonna drive you crazy. do you even know if he's gay? start with that maybe

The posts go on, and on. Reading backwards through time, it's a strange piecing-together. rearviewmirror is active in about ten communities and Dean reads through all of them, that week, bringing an illicit cup of coffee in to the library when he doesn't have a construction shift. He reads with his hand over his mouth and by the time he has to get off the computer he's got a headache, every time, his throat dry and aching.

The journal's been active for six months. Dean clicks through the pages to the very start and reads it in the right order, his heart pounding oddly in his ears. I don't know what this place is. A journal, I guess, considering the name. I just need somewhere to talk where no one will listen.

It's not a pouring-out, like some teenage girl doodling hearts around her crush's initials. He holds back. Never says exactly where they're living, never mentions names. To figure out who it was, you'd have to be one of two other people, and Dean knows that Dad can barely turn on a computer, much less go onto the internet and pore over some teenage angst-fest. Dean spends half his time wishing he were the same. Maybe if he hadn't asked Sabrina for help.

At home, Sam's the same as he always is. Comes home after his own stint at the library, eats the dinner Dean gives him. He reads, most of the time. Does his schoolwork. Dean says, careful one night, "Hey, True Lies is on. Wanna watch?" but Sam only gives him a strange, uncertain look and says, "No, I have a paper due," and he shuts himself into their bedroom with the door very firmly closed, and Dean sits there on the couch alone with a beer and Jamie Lee Curtis being sexy as hell on the fuzzy TV, and he—he doesn't know what to do.

He remembers that day, the looking at the stars day. It was November 2. A nasty anniversary, in their family, and yeah, Dad left. Dean got it. He'd thought Sam did, too, by now. It was better to have Dad gone, on a hunt, than trying to drink himself to death at home in the apartment. At least he was working, that way, and not hurting himself. To distract both of them, Dean picked Sam up from the library and they went straight to the movie theater—the Blair Witch sequel, with Dean providing running commentary about how dumb they were about dealing with ghosts, which at least made Sam grin and elbow him to shut up, even if he was laughing too, the liar—and, yeah, afterward they'd picked up Taco Bell, and then after that Dean swung through the liquor store drive-thru and they parked out, and he let Sam have a beer, and they both sat on the trunk and leaned back against the cold glass or the rear window and didn't really talk, much. The stars, big above them. The night, quiet. Sam was pressed against his side, chilled out and not bitching about anything, and Dean tucked his hand behind his head and he was pretty content with the world, right then. His brother, here, and a six-pack waiting, and nothing happening right then that'd hurt them. Sam smiled at him, that night, before he went to bed. It was sweet—like he used to be, when he was little—and Dean had ended up falling asleep on the couch, watching the public access, but his dreams that night were—good, like they never were on the night of November 2, and it had felt… okay.

do you even know if he's gay?

The college prep—that wasn't a surprise. It hurt but it didn't shock. All his worrying, all his whining, wanting to be 'free'—whatever free meant—it was all part and parcel of the last decade. Dean should've known better. Sam wasn't mellowing out. Sam was a stubborn little shit and he'd always wanted to have a life that wasn't—this.

The gay thing. That hit different. One of the communities Sam followed was for lesbian and gay youth, talking about their coming out experiences. Sam didn't post there much but he commented, asked questions. How do you know? What does it feel like? The hamburger girl was from there, a lesbian chick trapped in some Delaware high school. Encouraging, commiserating. They talked about how college would be their big escape, their chance to go to a big city and find their way. Meet people. Only apparently hamburger girl was crushing on the cheerleader from fourth period, and Sam—

Dean makes an excuse the next day. Saturday: no work for Dean, no school for Sam. Alone in the apartment together, all day, after Dean's week of reading—he can't face it. "Where are you going?" Sam asks, eight a.m. with his hair fucked up and coffee clenched between his hands, and Dean looks at him in his pajama pants and his ratty hand-me-down shirt, skinny and tall and hiding things Dean can't handle, and he says, snappish in a way he doesn't mean to be—"Out, Sam, for christ's sake—" and sees Sam's expression shutter before the apartment door slams behind him.

He goes for a drive, out of town. Cold, threatening rain like it always is, but it won't snow. Out—past the airport, past the suburbs, out to Black Lake. They killed the nymph that was drowning people out here, him and Dad, when they first arrived. Sam stayed home. Sullen on the other end of the line when Dean called to say they'd finished the job, and they were getting burgers for dinner, and did Sam want one. Whatever, Sam had said, like even answering was an imposition. That was November, too.

He sits on the hood, heels braced on the bumper, arms locked around his knees. The lake looks cold. He wants to sink into it, wants to feel that freezing shock, like the polar bear dive he did on a dare back in Illinois. The way the brain just goes blank, tv-static filling up everything and washing all the shit away. All the weird crap you don't want to think about, frozen, and the only thing to focus on just—getting out.

He's not going to dive into the lake. It's nine in the morning and he's wearing his only pair of boots. He hasn't gone out with Sabrina all week. He's been piss-poor at the construction site and McMillan nearly brained him with a hammer yesterday, because Dean wasn't paying attention, and the foreman screamed at him in front of the whole crew. None of that feels close, right now. He breathes the wet-clogged air, cold and mossy, turning his ring restlessly on his finger.

Back at that high school they went to in Raton, Mrs. Encinas in 6th period English told Dean he'd be smart, if he didn't just give up all the time. All he needed to do was take the time to read between the lines, to actually interpret what he was reading and not take things on face value. He made some joke. He doesn't remember what it was, now. Like he didn't know what the fuckin Great Gatsby was saying, when he hoped and hoped and never got what he wanted. When happiness always felt like it was about a thousand miles away, on the other side of a lake he couldn't cross, and hope went out like a snuffed light. Dean can read what's not there. He's done it his whole life.

The problem: Sam's little online journal went back six months. They've lived in four towns, in that time. He never uses names, never puts up anything that'd really identify him. They were in Maryland, August-September-first of October, and it was a comment right at the end of August, on the community for gay kids, talking to the hamburger girl: I like someone, too. He doesn't know. He. The same he that carried forward, through all his journal entries, from Maryland to Washington across whole breadth of the country. He likes classic rock. He drives me nuts. He gave me a beer, and I wanted—

Dean curls forward over his knees, sliding his hands into his hair, breathing hard between his knees. He can read between the lines and he wishes that he couldn't. He wishes—god. What? That Sam would just meet a nice girl and fuck her and get it out of his system? Except how he was writing, it wasn't like it was new. It was something he'd been thinking about. When did you know? had read one of the forum posts, and in the responses, among all the dumb teenage crap about formal dances and jerking off to the wrong person in the music video, there was a comment by username rearviewmirror that said, I broke my leg and he carried me to the car and I wanted to kiss him.

Sam broke his leg in July, the summer he turned fifteen. He'd been trying to stay quiet but he'd had this trapped whimper in his throat that he couldn't stop, and Dad had stayed behind to cover their backs and it had been left to Dean, to scoop Sam up, his whole body quivering with the shock—to hug him close between the trees, humid Georgia night making every place their skin touched slick with sweat—to let Sam cling to his neck, shuddering, and to put a hand on his back and whisper, hey, Sammy, it's not even that bad, huh? no bone sticking out, you did good. we're gonna get you a cast and I'm gonna draw you a great picture, okay, Cindy Crawford with her tits out, right there on your shin and Sam had been so shaky that his laugh sounded like he was crying, but he'd nodded against Dean's neck and chattered out sounds cool, Dean, and when Dean got him to the car Sam hadn't wanted to let him go—so they crawled into the backseat together, Sam still half in his lap and with his arms still tight around Dean's neck. Dad got into the front and frowned at Dean in the rearview, and Dean nodded, and when the car leapt forward Sam gasped and gripped at Dean's shirt when his leg got jostled, and Dean put his hand in Sam's hair and said, it's okay, you're okay, and Sam—wanted to kiss him.

He can't square it. It's like there's some twinned version of his brother, in this place Dean never knew existed. All these secrets he's been hoarding, this other person he's been. These wants that make him a stranger.

He goes back home with stuff for lunch around noon. Sam's reading, in the bedroom. "Got pb&j or grilled cheese," Dean calls, down the shotgun kitchen through the thin-carpeted hall, and Sam calls back, "I'm not hungry," which is a goddamn shit of a lie. He grows like an inch a day, he's never not hungry. Dean braces his hands on the counter and counts to five, in his head. He puts the bread away, and puts the cheese in the fridge. He goes into the living room and turns on the TV and it's college football, which is boring as hell, but it fills the apartment with noise. He wishes Dad were home. He wishes he were hunting.

The Huskies lose. Sam hasn't come out of the room, as far as Dean can tell. He's had—four beers? He looks at the table. Five. It's getting toward dark and it's raining, a-fucking-gain, and Dean's still wearing his jacket and his boots and his ears are cold, because the heater in here sucks, and he's shredded the label of the beer everywhere, everywhere. He brushes it off his knees and that just means it's gonna get ground into the shit-brown carpet, but—who cares. He's got other things on his mind.

He gets the last beer out of the fridge. Should've bought more. "Got some spare cash," he says, to the dark hall. There's a halo of light around the half-closed bedroom door. "Thinking pizza for dinner."

Silence.

Dean pushes the beer bottle against his forehead. "C'mon, Sam. It's not going to kill you to prefer pepperoni or sausage. Just say something."

"Doesn't matter," is the response.

Dean squeezes his eyes closed, slams the bottle down to the counter. It's four steps to the bedroom and the door flies open under his palm. "Just fucking say," Dean says, and Sam's looking at him with big eyes, curled up on the twin bed with his back up against the wall, books spread open all around him. Homework, of course. "Just say it, okay? What do you want?"

Sam stares at him. "I don't care! Get—whatever, pepperoni. Jeez, what's up with you?"

"Sure you don't want sausage?" Dean says, kind of nasty, and Sam frowns, shakes his head. Goddamn it. Dean drags a hand over his face, sags against the door frame. He's—a little dizzy. Oh—okay, so maybe he should've eaten, sometime since this morning. "Damn it, Sam," he says, his stomach twinging.

"What?" Give him this—maybe he's sneaking around, maybe he's lying about half his life, but Sam doesn't shrink back from an argument. He's still in his pajamas. He shoves his notebook away, lifts his chin. "What?"

"Been doing some reading," Dean says, and watches Sam's face scrunch disbelievingly. "Rearviewmirror? You don't even like cars."

It's weirdly satisfying to watch Sam blanch. He's been so unaffected the last little while it's almost a relief to get a real reaction. His mouth parts, his eyes go big. He stares at Dean in total silence except the rain drumming on the roof, and then he says, "That's—private."

"Not that private," Dean says. "You're putting shit on the internet for any asshole to read, Sam. It's not a pretty princess diary with a sparkly lock."

Sam's face is white. He licks his lips, his back rigid against the wall. "How did you—you never—"

"I know how to use a friggin computer," Dean says, and watches Sam close his eyes. "So? Got a lot to say to a bunch of strangers. Might as well say it to me. I mean, I'm your brother, right? Family."

It comes out hard but his voice cracks, on the last word. He swallows and some of the anger dissipates. Sam's jaw flexes and he tucks his hands behind his neck and his knees drag in, like defense. Like he needs defense. Against Dean. Like it's Dean who's wrecking things.

Dean's legs go out from under him. He sits down. Right there, in the doorway to the bedroom, the frame hard against his spine. The rain's loud and he doesn't—what is there to say? "You should've told me."

That's really it. Sam looks at him. Disbelief. "How?" he says, and Dean tips his head back against the wall, looks at the popcorn ceiling, says, "I don't know, it's not my damn secret. But you should've."

"Yeah, that would've gone great," Sam says, sarcastic.

Silence. The rain. Dean drags his hand over his face again, clears his throat. "So. You're—queer." For some reason it seems like the simplest thing to start with.

Sam snorts. "I'm not, like, jerking off to JC Chasez," he says, bitter.

"Who?" Dean says, but shakes his head. "God, whatever. Jesus, Sam, I can't—don't talk about you jerking off. You're not—you don't date chicks, either. Ever. So you're—"

"I don't know," Sam says. Kind of firm. Dean closes his eyes to not look at him. "I don't know, okay? But that's not what—" Pause, while he drags in a breath that's audible across the room. Dean curls over, his forehead between his knees. It's too big to hear. Sam blows out air. "You read the whole thing?"

Frail. Cobweb soft, like if Dean breathed too hard it'd break. Dean folds his hands over his head. "I read the whole thing," he says.

"Don't—" Sam says, quick, and cuts himself off. Dean can't stand it—he looks, peeking up, and Sam's made himself small, there at the head of the bed. His mouth is small, his lips between his teeth—his eyes, big and scared. "Dean. I wouldn't—I swear. I wouldn't—"

"Kiss me?" Sam flinches like from a raised fist, when Dean's all the way over here. Dean licks his lips, dropping his hands so they dangle useless between his knees. "Or, what. Leave? Either way it's pretty fucked up, for me, Sam."

"Oh my god," Sam says, very quietly, and—christ. Looks like he's gonna cry.

"Sam," Dean says, and no matter how pissed he is, that's not—Sam fights back. Sam always fights back, he's frickin' annoying that way. He's not supposed to crack like this. Dean rolls up to his knees and Sam's looking away, neck craned unnaturally so that his face is pointed at the broken-blind-covered window so that Dean can't see, but Dean can—Dean can see his teeth so hard in his lip that the skin there's white, and his chest shaky, and his fist clenched in the thin fabric of his pajama bottoms, and, and—"Sammy," Dean says, again, and Sam's eyes close and there is—shit, shit, a tear, running fast out of the corner of his eye, streaking down his cheek so quick that if Dean could blink he might've missed it.

Dean's gut hurts, like he took a punch from a werewolf and he's gonna be bruised for the next three weeks. He doesn't have anything to say to make it better, not when it's this screwed up. This isn't Sam bitching about Dad or whining about crossbow practice or pouting about a move. Sam's been thinking about this for two years and he's managed to talk about it with people, online at least. Dean's coming at it with a week's slow raw realization and he doesn't know how to make it—not how it is.

He gets over to the bed, on his knees. Sam won't look at him, like the view of nothing through the blinds is the most fascinating thing in the world. There's a wet shining trail, down his cheek to his jaw. A damp circle on his t-shirt. Dean says, because he can't think of what else to say, "You really—you want—" and even then, can't articulate it. A kiss. Sex. A kind of close they've never been. He says, slower, "Is that why you want to go?"

Sam drags in air. Sounds like it hurts.

Dean drags his teeth over his lip. There are books all over the bed. He pushes them away, and Sam's notebook. He pushes up—knee on the mattress, and sinking down to his hip, and Sam's close enough to touch, now, and he jerks and looks at Dean like he's an alien. A ghost. Something that can't be real, only they both know that it is. Dean touches Sam's hand, fisted there in his pants, and Sam jerks again, his stiff shoulders back against the wall, and he shoves Dean's hand but no matter the crazy growth spurt Sam's been having Dean's still stronger, still has the reach—he grips Sam's wrist and yanks, gets him off balance, and then he's right inside Sam's grapple and has his hand flat on Sam's chest, pressing him harder against the paint, and Sam stares at him wild-eyed with his breath both fast and deep and Dean leans forward and presses their mouths together. It's a bad kiss—he barely hits on center, and Sam freezes—but there's the touch of warmth, Sam's lips—soft—and the shocked air hitting Dean's face—and Dean drags in breath through his nose and resettles, fits his mouth to Sam's soft open lower lip and makes it better, his head tipping, easy pressure there, just the faintest amount of suction so that when he pulls back a millimeter there's a little smooch sound, and that makes it—real.

He kissed his little brother. No getting around that. No pretending. His nose brushes Sam's cheek and Sam's not really breathing, and Dean—fuck, Dean does it again, pressing in and letting Sam's wrist go so that he can get a hand on Sam's jaw, tipping him so it's good. Sam makes a tiny noise and breathes out hard against his mouth, and when Dean kisses him for a third time Sam meets it, his lips moving finally out of that still shock, his fingertips brushing Dean's arm all careful, his heart pounding under Dean's hand.

Dean pulls back. An inch between them—not enough but all Dean can seem to manage. He swallows. His lips are tingling, and his eyes are closed and he doesn't want to open them, and his fingers—jesus, he's got them tangled in Sam's hair like Sam's some easy hot chick he's picked up at a dive bar, pressing her up against the wall in the bathroom hallway, knowing how the night's going to end.

"We can't," Sam says. Sam. His voice, steady and familiar. "We—Dean. This isn't—"

"No," Dean says, god knows why. He pulls back, though—pulls his hand out of Sam's hair, stands up. His legs wobble for a second. He has to open his eyes and so he drags in a breath and does, and Sam's sitting there with his shoulders high and tight and his hands fisted on his knees and his hair a little fluffed on one side, a little screwy. His mouth parted and his eyes—fixed on Dean's face, looking all over it. Like he's memorizing a trail map, for an unknown stretch of land.

"I'm drunk," Dean says. It's not true. Five beers—he's buzzed but he knows what he's doing. Sam doesn't contradict the lie. "Acting nuts. Sorry, Sam. I—"

"I want pepperoni," Sam says. His face isn't white anymore. He's flushed, dark pink in the hollows of his cheeks. His eyes are dark, wide and fixed on Dean, and there's still that shining trail on his cheek but it's drying. "Order from that place on Melrose. Garlic knots, too."

Dean backs up a step, pins on a smile. "What, you think I'm dumb? Like I wouldn't get knots," he says, and Sam doesn't smile but he nods, brief and fast like Dean's picking up a play in some con they're running, and Dean snaps a finger-gun at Sam—fuck, what is he doing—and turns out of the room, says—"Okay, dinner in thirty minutes or less or your money back!" and walks through the kitchen and out into the living room and out the front door, and closes it behind himself, and leans against it and stares blindly out into the rain, the setting sun still sparking some tiny golden bit of light out to the west, past the horizon.

He licks his lips and tastes salt, not his own. Sam's hand, on his arm—skimming, brushing light through the thickness of his jacket. Like he wasn't sure he'd be allowed to really touch. He drags in the rain-soaked air. He'll drive, to get the pizza. He'll drive, and he'll give Sam time. When he gets back he'll offer Sam half the pie and a beer, and there'll be some movie on TV that Sam probably won't want to watch, but maybe he will. They'll be—brothers. Dean knows how to do that. It feels like it's all he's got left.

It's—not easy but it's not all that hard, either. There's a brutal week where Dean's torn between walking on eggshells and wanting to wrestle Sam to the ground, and Sam goes perfectly silent—not pouty withdrawal or furious silent-treatment, but as still and quiet as though he's not even there. Dean can't bear it. It takes Dad coming home to break it—Dad, and christ, when he calls to say he's coming back Dean completely freezes and his mind fills up with—with—but then Sam looks at him and takes the phone out of his hand and says, his mouth's full—what's up? and after that it's like things… settle. It's not okay but it's livable.

rearviewmirror.livejournal.com goes quiet. Dean checks, occasionally, over the months that pass. When he's looking up some random piece of lore for Dad, when they're hunting alone and Sam's stuck back at whatever shitty hotel they stored him at, and Dean's on research duty because Sam's in high school and can't answer his phone. Dean types in the address and checks, and it's still that last post. Anyone else going through this? He hopes, sincerely, not. It's too fucked up for anyone else to bear. At least the Winchesters have practice.

They run PT. Sam does his homework. Dean watches TV. Hunting focuses things. There's stuff to kill and people to save and things aren't falling apart any more than they ever are, so—Dean deals.

Sam leaves.

It's January. Dean's in a library, alone. Dad's working a job north of Boise and he sent Dean down to Wendover to take care of a haunting, and Dean's done and Dad called and said two more days and there's this raw wounded spot where Dean should be able to turn, to look over his left shoulder and say—but it's empty there, and so he's in a library.

Sam started posting again, when he got to school. Small stuff. That he was sorry for the long break. That he'd ended up at a university after all. The hamburger girl doesn't respond anymore but the Nine Inch Nails boy does: thought you were dead, he says, no-caps like he's so goddamn cool, and Sam says, Just working some stuff out.

Sam likes his professors. He plays pick-up soccer with some of the guys from his dorm. His roommate snores. He doesn't listen to music at all. There's nothing—real. There's none of the sadboy shit, nothing about what he's feeling, no pondering of what it all means. He picks up a few different Livejournal friends, clearly people from his classes, who crack jokes about Ancient Civ and Linear Algebra. He joins a community focused around civil rights litigation. He might as well not be there.

Dean reads it all. If Sam's not calling then Dean's gonna check in whatever way he can. When Sam left Dean made sure he had at least one good knife in his bag and he said don't forget the salt when Sam hiked his backpack onto his shoulder, and Sam snorted and looked at him like a gunshot but he nodded, and Sam's not dumb, he knows how to take care of himself, but. Dean's the big brother, here. He's within his rights, to check and make sure baby bro's not being a dumbass.

January and it's fuckin cold, in Wendover, but the library's too warm. Dean keeps his coat on anyway, scrolling through the comms. He's kinda turning into an expert, navigating the pages, recognizing the shorthand. He hasn't made an account. Doesn't know why he would. He finishes his scan of the comms Sam's part of and doesn't really see any relevant posts, and no comments from rearviewmirror that he can find. He chews his cheek and goes back to the main page, thinking—okay, he can get out of here. Beer and dinner, and finding a motel that doesn't look toxic, and waiting for Dad to call. Not the worst night he could have. He refreshes, one last time, just in case, and there's a new post. He reads:

January 23

Done with class for the week. Feeling restless.

current mood: current music:

Comments:

lawblog69: we should go out!!

bloodofreptile: go get laid

Dean snorts. At least the NIN kid is consistent. He refreshes again and there's a new comment.

bloodofreptile: go get laid

rearviewmirror: Not really in the cards.

He takes a breath, sitting there at the computer bank. It's quiet in here—the good people of Wendover aren't much for the library, apparently—but he feels like someone's right there. Like he could reach out and touch, when it's just words on a glowing screen. Still—the speed of the comment—Sam's… sitting there. Right now, on a computer in Palo Alto, looking at the same thing Dean is.

He refreshes.

bloodofreptile: go get laid

rearviewmirror: Not really in the cards.

bloodofreptile: still holding onto that? very hufflepuff. how long has it been?

rearviewmirror: my whole life

Dean presses his knuckles to his lips, hard enough that he can feel his teeth pressing back. Jesus, Sam. He refreshes—another comment, from coppertonebuttgirl, agreeing about the restlessness but apparently she's off to a date with her boyfriend, and Sam responds and says sounds nice :), and jesus, Sam, Dean thinks. Off to have the big college experience like he wanted so bad, off to have that new shiny life, and after five months away he's still all sadsack, still not actually living.

He clicks the comment box. He types, unaccountably mad. He hits submit, and gets a warning that it'll show as anonymous. He waits, and refreshes, and reads:

Anonymous: Just go hit a bar. Live a little. Thought you were supposed to be smart, college boy.

rearviewmirror: Since when does smart have anything to do with it?

Dean rolls his eyes. He can hear Sam's voice saying it, nettled and trying to sound like he isn't.

Anonymous: You're on here mooning after Cindy Crawford when Claudia Schiffer and Tyra Banks are out there in the real world. Have a beer, get over it.

A pause. Dean has to refresh twice. The librarian walks by with her cart of books and gives him a distracted smile, and Dean's so addled he doesn't actually process and then return it until she's already gone.

rearviewmirror: I don't think it's something you get over. It mattered. It still does, to me.

Dean chews his thumbnail. Sam's face, turned unnaturally, looking out that window at the rain. The wet track, on his cheek.

Anonymous: Matters enough that you're never going to move on?

rearviewmirror: I didn't think you could move on from family. Maybe I was wrong.

The air goes out of Dean's chest. He turns away from the computer, entirely, swiveling the chair so he's looking out at the lonely bookshelves. He flexes his jaw and swivels back around. Hits refresh.

The thread of comments is gone. He blinks, confused. He doesn't think he was hallucinating—been a while, since he was that tired and drunk. But—oh—in its place, a single comment, under the brief conversation with the NIN kid:

rearviewmirror: Tell me if it's you.

Dean licks his lips. He closes out of the browser, picks up his notepad and keys. On the steps outside it's cold, cold, fucking cold, and this town is bleak. He walks down to the Impala, waiting there in the iced-over grey snow, and braces his hands on the hood, and blows out a long purling winter-dragon breath, and then fishes his phone out of his pocket. Another new phone, but he's got Sam's number memorized, and he almost calls before he chickens out. If it's not actually wanted—he imagines that conversation and he's just not constitutionally capable, right now, of facing how goddamn awkward it'd be.

He texts: It's me.

The response, after seconds: Where are you?

The shitty part of Utah. That's saying something. Easier, like this. Like it's not him kicking down a doorway right into Sam's head.

I don't have class tomorrow.

Could be random, if he didn't know who he was talking to. Dean leans his elbows on the hood of the car, looking at the little box of black-and-white text. He chews his lips and thinks. Before he can respond, another message:

I don't want to move on.

Dean tips his head enough that he's pressing the edge of the phone into his forehead. His fingers are cold. He sniffs, his nose dripping in the icy weather, and types, careful to make sure he gets it right: I'm nine hours away.

Less, if he goes over 100 in the boring parts of Nevada, and if he doesn't stop at all for a catnap.

Stop in Reno for a nap. You get weird when you drive all night. Text me when you're close.

Dean works his jaw, standing there in the cold. He's got nothing to do, for two days. He's got most of a tank of gas. He's got—nothing. Nothing. He gets in the car, and he drives.

It's only 9:30 when he gets to Reno. There were parts of Nevada where he drove very, very fast. He pulls into a truck stop, gets more gas and parks out near where the semis are lined up, the drivers early-birding the night away. Still cold here but less so. He twists around so his back's to the passenger door and looks out the driver window at the neon signs of the truck stop, the cars going in and out of the gas islands. He ate a little but his stomach was all twisted up and he couldn't get much down. A beer would go easier but he doesn't want to be drunk. Well. He does. This is insane. This is—completely stupid.

He pulls out his phone, looks at it. Dials and holds it to his ear, and it rings three times—long enough for him to change his mind four times—before there's an answer, and Sam's voice says, "Dean?"

His voice. Dean closes his eyes, tips his head back against the cold glass of the window. "Long time, no speak," Dean says. It feels rusty.

Sam's quiet for a second, on the other end. "Not really, though. Right?"

"I guess so. It's not the same." Dean listens to the little acknowledging sound Sam makes. There's silence again, for seconds that he counts—one and then two and then three. He listens to the cooling tick of the engine, through it, and then says, before he loses his nerve, "I shouldn't come. Right? This is nuts."

There's some noise, staticky. Like something passed over the mic on Sam's phone. After a beat, Sam says, "You should do what you want to do."

"Oh, should I," Dean says, and it comes out sarcastic, but he doesn't really mean it to be mean. Sam doesn't take the bait, staying quiet on the other end, and Dean opens his eyes again, watching a huge truck muscle past the gas island, watching the normal world go by. He rubs his eye. "I've been—it's been weird, Sam."

Understatement, but he doesn't know why he says it. That kind of stuff isn't for Sam to worry about.

"Go to sleep," Sam says, instead of responding. "An hour or something, just enough so you won't drive off the road. Text me when you're close."

Same thing he said before. "It'll be like three in the morning when I'm close," Dean says, and Sam says, "I'll be awake," and then the line disconnects, and Dean's left there alone again on the bench seat, but it—feels different.

He sort of sleeps, sort of doesn't. He's got a talent for going to bed wherever and whenever he has to—on spare tires and on forest floors and in a closet, once, with a propane tank as his pillow—but his brain won't shut up. He drifts in and out, for the hour Sam asked him for, and then he gets out of the car and goes into the 24-hour c-store and buys a big cup of coffee and a Hershey bar, and points the hood west, and follows the yellow dashed line home.

He texts from a gas station outside Sacramento. Sam texts back in less than a minute with an address. Dean glances at his map of California and responds: 45 minutes, and it's more like thirty when he pulls up to the—yeah, the motel, and he makes a sound that's sort of like a laugh except it doesn't feel like one. He turns into the parking lot and the headlights flash the building, and there, sitting on the sidewalk with his back to a pillar.

Dean parks. Sam has his arms folded over his knees, but he unfurls, stands. Dean gets out of the car and Sam's—jesus, ten feet away, his face totally visible under the streetlight. His hair's a little longer. "Did you get taller?" Dean says, and Sam huffs, his head ducking, and—fuck everything else, it's Dean's little brother, and he drags Sam into a hug, folding his arms over Sam's shoulders even if he has to lift on his toes a little to do it. Sam goes stiff for half a second, but he hugs back, and Dean turns his face in, Sam's hair in his nose like it always is, and feels him—warm, and safe. All Dean ever wanted for him, pretty much.

"You have to get the room," Sam says, when they pull apart. At Dean's eyebrows he shrugs, the corner of his mouth curled. "What? My scholarship doesn't include seedy rent by the hour stuff."

"Oversight much?" Dean says, but he goes in, and he gets a room. Two queens, because that's what the tired miserable little desk clerk says they have available. Means Dean doesn't have to think about other possibilities, and it means that when he dangles the keys off his finger and Sam half-smiles at him, when they've walked down the cold sidewalk side by side, when Dean opens the door and finds the different motel room, same as the first—Sam sits on one bed, and Dean sits on the other, and they look at each other, and it's like it's two years ago and they're just two kids, waiting for Dad to come home.

Sam is taller. Taller than Dean, now. His hair long enough to fall in his eyes, which it does constantly. Newish sneakers, and old jeans, and a hooded sweatshirt, and a denim jacket over the top of that. Not warm enough for the Bay in winter, but Dean bites his tongue before he says anything about it.

"How are your classes?" he says, instead.

Sam's cheek sucks in, like he's chewing it. After a second he says, "You don't want to talk about my classes, man." His head tips. "Anyway. You read about it, right."

It was a mistake not to stop for beer. Dean needs something to do with his hands. "Your algebra professor sounds like an asshole," he says.

Makes Sam smile before he ducks his head, looking down at his lap. "I thought—" He swallows, audibly. He shakes his head, his hair falling down and hiding his face. "Only reason I started posting again was that I wondered if you might still—if you'd check."

It's quiet, honest. Dean hasn't talked to Sam in person for half a year and he's off-balance. Expecting Sam to snark, to be dismissive, to roll his eyes. Small hours of the morning, maybe he's too tired not to be honest. Maybe he's growing up. Dean's not prepared for that.

Sam looks up at him when Dean's silent for too long. His teeth dig into the corner of his mouth and he drags his hand through his hair, gets it off his forehead. "I said I didn't want to move on. You know what I meant, right?"

Dean huffs. "Yeah, I'm not an idiot, Sam," he says, and Sam's eyes tighten. Dean leans back on his hands, tips his head back on his shoulders to look at the ceiling. "Thought this was the whole point of getting out. Getting away, making a whole new life. Being someone else."

"I'm still me," Sam says, unseen. "And it wasn't the whole point. I want a life. That part—whatever, that doesn't matter right now. But I never thought the other thing was going to go away."

He stands up, so Dean can see him. Dean looks at him down his nose, and Sam's—god. Tall. That keeps being his first thought. Tall, and maybe not a stranger, even if he's real damn strange. Sam steps closer, in the little space between the two beds, chewing his lip again. He's gonna make a sore there. "Dean," he says, and Dean raises his eyebrows in response. "You came."

"Yeah," Dean says, rueful. "Well. I'm Cindy Crawford."

Sam's face ripples—a frown, surprise—and then a huffed little laugh—and then he steps between Dean's knees and touches his chest, his jaw. Leans down, slow, telegraphing like they're practicing a fight, and Dean stays exactly where he is, leaned back on his hands, and Sam's mouth touches his—softly. Not hesitant. Dean lets his eyes close and feels it. Puff of air against his face as Sam lets out a tense breath and then another kiss, the damp inside Sam's lip catching against Dean's, and Dean kisses back then, reaching up and getting Sam's jaw, his jacket, fisting the denim and pulling Sam closer. There's a stagger—Sam's knee landing on the bed by Dean's hip, and Dean gets an arm around his lower back and kisses him again, tasting him. Salt, and when Dean kisses him again and presses his mouth open, licks inside, there's coffee-taste, Sam's tongue—slick, tentative—he stayed up, to wait for Dean—his kiss clumsier now, like he doesn't have much practice.

Dean pulls back a few inches. Sam's half-draped on him, his weight nearly in Dean's lap. His eyes are dark but big with surprise, like he didn't expect Dean to go with it. "Sammy," Dean says, and Sam—shudders, his hands closing hard around Dean's shoulders. Okay, Dean thinks, filing that away. He drags a thumb over Sam's jaw, where he's got a barely-there prickle of stubble. "What are we doing?"

Sam shakes his head, licks his lips. "This," he says, holding the side of Dean's neck. "This."

They peel Sam's jacket off, and then Dean's. Sam's still in that hoodie, soft black, and Dean gets his fingers just under the hem of it, barely grazing Sam's stomach, kissing him again—tangled up close on the edge of the bed, Sam's thigh slung over his. Sam keeps touching his face, his chest. His amulet, swinging forward between them when he urges Sam down to his back on the mattress, a knee between Sam's and his hand still there on Sam's belly. Sam grips the amulet and breathes out hot against Dean's face and lifts up for another kiss, which Dean gives him easy, and it's—god, it's good. The lights on, the room warm, Sam wanting underneath his hand. His mouth, slick and open, learning how to press back, how to give as good as he's getting. Dean kisses his cheekbone, his jaw, settles his hand flat on Sam's stomach to ground him, says, "Sammy, you've done this before, right?" Sam hitches breath, nods. Dean sorta laughs, lifts up so he can actually see Sam's expression. "More than once?"

"Twice," Sam says, and when Dean raises his eyebrows he frowns, vaguely indignant. "Jenny Morrison, just before graduation." He licks his lips. "And—a guy. After student orientation, here."

"Playing the field, huh?" Dean says. There's no reason it should make his stomach go molten hot. He rubs Sam's stomach, feels the rise of his breath. "You like it?" Sam nods, again. "What'd you do?"

Sam's cheeks are dark, brick-red. He licks his lips again and Dean ducks back in to kiss him, knocking his mouth open, tasting inside. Earns himself a small deep noise and Sam's hand sliding through his hair where it's too short to grab. He nudges Sam's nose and sits up, peeling off his overshirt. "C'mon. What'd you do? Didn't put that up on your journal, how am I supposed to know?"

"It was a rush party," Sam says, looking at him. He pulls his t-shirt off over his head, making sure his amulet stays put, and Sam blinks heavily, his lips parted. Jeez—it's weird. Hot. Sam wants him, Dean thinks, and it sends a rush of blood south. "He's—uh. Pre-med, smart."

"Not looking for his biography, Sammy," Dean says, and spreads his hands on Sam's hips, pushing up. The hoodie moves, the t-shirt underneath rucks up—Sam's pale here but still that faint all-over tan, darker than Dean's skin. He licks his lips. "What'd you do? Jerk each other off?"

Sam nods, again, his mouth open. God, Dean can imagine it. On some dorm-room bed, their heads leaned together, Sam's mouth open just like this—panting, his hand fumbling down—fuck, fuck it's hot, Sam nervous and into it and trying, making sure. "You liked it, huh?" Dean says, stroking his thumbs over Sam's bare belly.

"Yeah," Sam says, thin on not enough air, his knee drawing up. "But I—I thought about—when you kissed me—" and Dean kisses him again, groaning. Jesus, Sam's gonna kill him. Thinking about some shitty nervous freaked-out kiss when another guy's got his tongue in Sam's mouth. Sam grabs his shoulders, sits up, and Dean accommodates him easy, letting Sam touch him back—Sam's hands sliding down his chest, around to his ribs, grasping. "Dean," he says, panting.

"Let's get this off, huh?" Dean says, pulling, and Sam yanks the hoodie off in a second flat, his hair all ruffling up behind it. The shirt comes with it and there's just Sammy's bare smooth skin, that same pale tan all over. Small brownish nipples, slim muscles. His body. Dean dips and kisses his bare shoulder, licking there, biting, and Sam's nails dig into his ribs so he does it again, swinging a leg over so he's straddling Sam's lap, taking his time. He scrapes his teeth over the swell where Sam's collarbone dips into the arch of his trap, and Sam grips his neck, his back arching. He's hard. Shit, he's nineteen, he has to be hard. Dean slides his fingers down Sam's belly to his belt, tucking under the waist of his jeans, but Sam grips his wrist, then, groaning, saying—"Wait—wait—"

Dean drops his head to Sam's shoulder, groaning back. "We waited," he says, but Sam's hand is on his shoulder, pushing him back, making him look. "What?"

Sam's pink. "Have you—with a guy?" Dean rocks back but Sam's holding him close, looking all over his face. "Dean. Have you—"

"Yeah," Dean says, and watches Sam's ears go red. Sam doesn't need to know when, but it was all in the last year. Three dudes, hookups that were way too easy. They were good—turns out that Dean just likes sex, any way someone will give it to him—and he learned what it felt like to have a dick not his own in his hand, how it felt to slip a cock into his mouth and make a man groan. He hadn't thought about Sam while he was doing it, not really, but he's thinking about it now, and Sam's eyes have dropped, his lips between his teeth. Jealous? Dean smiles while Sam can't see and breaks Sam's hold on his wrist, and slides his hand down, and cups the crotch of Sam's jeans where he's swelling them out. Sam jerks, eyes flying open. "Means I know what I'm doing. Yeah?"

"Yeah," Sam breathes, and then it's—undoing his belt, and unzipping, and then—god, he's still got his sneakers on. Dean backs off and kicks off his boots, deliberately, and Sam blinks at him hot-eyed with his chest heaving and his jeans half-open looking like a friggin porno, but then he gets with the program, and the shoes thud to the shitty carpet and then they're practically racing, undressing, and when Dean kicks his boxers off to the side Sam's—naked, half on the bed, staring at him. Dean stares back, circling a hand around Sam's ankle. God, to look at him, in the lamplight. Long legs, hairier on the shins and lightly furred on the thighs, and a decent dark bush around a dick that's—jesus, that dick. Big, bigger than Dean's, bigger than—Dean licks his lips and looks up with an effort and Sam's staring right back at him, focused between his legs, his mouth parted. "Like what you see?" Dean says, and Sam doesn't answer, just reaches for him, and Dean crawls up the bed and settles on his elbow above Sam with their legs brushing bare, Sam's dick hot against his hip, and Sam kisses him with both hands on his face, his thigh dragging up against Dean's, his lips almost trembly.

Dean soothes a hand down Sam's ribs but Sam's—fuck. Shaking. They haven't even done anything. "Sammy," Dean whispers, between Sam's needing brief kisses, and Sam shakes his head and kisses him again and then ducks his head down, his nose brushing under Dean's jaw. Dean pulls Sam closer—tips, so they're on their sides—and pulls Sam's leg over his hip, pushes in, and—ah, shit, shit that feels good, Sam's big dick brushing in against his, dragging heavy and hot. "Oh," says Sam, small, and Dean slips his hand further and grips Sam's ass, the muscle tight and small—pulls in, and pulls again, encouraging, and Sam grips Dean's shoulder underhand tight enough to hurt but follows, pushing in with the rhythm Dean's urging. He's breathing fast, hot against Dean's throat, but he's got it—humping in, meeting Dean, making their dicks slide, his cockhead smearing wet against Dean's belly. Dean hums, kissing Sam's temple where he can just reach it, just enjoying the—insane way it feels. He lets Sam's ass go and Sam keeps going—good, good—and he licks his fingers sloppy, and reaches down between them, and for the first time he gets a grip on Sam's dick, feels the heft of it. Sam makes a sound like he's been shot and Dean says shh, easy, slicking his hand down to the base, squeezing hard as he pulls back up, and Sam makes another gulping strange sound, his thigh clutching hard around Dean's hip, his hand crushing Dean's lower back in closer. "That feel good?" Dean says, and Sam—comes. Fast, humping in, spurting up Dean's belly and his own, the slick getting all over Dean's dick, hot and wet, the sensation enormous. Dean squeezes him through it, knowing, and Sam humps in again and grabs his ass, nails digging in. Dean tips his head back, feeling it. God, it's good. Sam. His brother.

He swallows. His dick's throbbing, wanting more, feeling left behind. Sammy shudders and Dean licks his lips, pushes Sam back so his shoulders hit the bed. He flops—boneless, shocked—and Dean drags his hands over Sam's ribs, frames his hips. His dick is still big, flushed and wet, his balls clutched up high, and Dean licks his lips and says, "Okay," to no one, and leans down, and gets Sam's dick in his mouth.

A shock, Sam's body practically lifting off the bed. "What," he says, somewhere Dean can't see him—"What are you, oh—" and Dean thinks, oh, what if no one has done this? What if Jenny just opened her legs and she and Sam humped awkward and teenage in some backseat—what if pre-med only wiped his handful of Sam's jizz on the mattress and passed out—what if Dean's the first one, here, opening his jaw wide, careful of his teeth, slicking down, getting the whole fat length of it in his mouth. Only—he can't, fuck, Sam's too big. He fists the base, pulls off, spits and slicks the wet down. When he glances up Sam's up on his elbows, staring, and Dean grins at him, jerks it again, swallows. He can taste Sam's jizz, leftover from coming before. "Hang on," Dean says, and goes back down, letting the head bust his lips open, slicking tight down to his fist, dragging his tongue hard against the underside, suckling easy. Sam takes his statement as an order and grips his head, his shoulder, his hips cringing up into Dean's mouth, and Dean heaves in air, feels Sam firming up again, thick and needing and good.

He's only done this a few times but he—shit, he liked it. Likes it better the other way around, of course, but like this—his dick pressing into the bed, throbbing—Sam splitting open his mouth—yeah, it doesn't exactly suck. He bobs up and down, making sure to pay special attention to the soft ridge at the head, and Sam's making insane noises, now, up above him, petting his head and his shoulders and gripping, trying to shove up. Dean leans into his hip so he can't, fists his dick, pulls off gasping and licking his lips. Sam's still staring, down the length of his torso, and Dean jerks him through the goopy mess they're making—his spit, Sam's precome, what Sam's already come. "You like it?" Dean says, and Sam—rolls his eyes, the little shit.

"You're smug," Sam says, and Dean raises his eyebrows and says, "You're damn right I am," and lets Sam's dick go and goes down, down, no fist in the way until Sam's dick hits the back of his throat and he gags—breathes through it—slurps up with tight lips and then goes right back down, getting his throat used to it, learning the feel of this massive, awesome dick. Sam moans, pushes his hips up, and Dean lets him, rides it—lets Sam fuck up, lets him get a rhythm, like fucking—Sam, fucking his face—and Dean reaches down between his own legs and fists his own dick, finally, groaning in relief and making Sam shudder as the vibration rumbles through Dean's open throat. Sam grips his head with both hands, holding him down, and Dean drags in air through his nose and holds there, filled up with Sam and choking, spit flooding out of his open mouth—the world dark and just Sam's taste, his smell—and Sam makes a little sound—and Dean grunts and lifts off, breaks Sam's hold and crawls up his body, straddling his hips and dragging his dick against where Sam's is all sloppy-hot, dripping wet. Sam gasps up at him and grabs his hips, his ass, fucking up into him, and Dean grips both their dicks in two hands, fucking into the tight wet channel he's making for them both, and Sam pulls at his ass, spreading it, rocking his hips to help, moaning and looking helpless up into Dean's face, and Dean leans down and breathes against him and Sam still comes first, creaming them both, his dick flexing and twitching in Dean's grip, and Dean braces one slick hand on the bed and fists himself seriously, jerking fast, and Sam moans and kisses his jaw and pulls at his ass with those big hands, his fingers slipping low, dipping—and Dean jerks and spills, his belly seizing, his thighs clamping around Sam's hips, Sam's lips open and dragging wet against his throat, his fist gripping the bedspread so hard that his fingers cramp.

Sam's stroking his hips, repetitive and soft, when he's done panting. Dean swallows, shifts his weight. He's slumped on top of Sam, his face buried in Sam's shoulder. Wet between them, sliding, and he releases his dick and slips his sticky hand out, bracing on the bed enough to get some air between them. When he lifts up Sam's eyes are half-closed, but he focuses on Dean's face right away, and his hands stop their stroking and just squeeze, warm and tight. "You okay?" Sam says.

"My line," Dean says, and Sam rolls his eyes again, squeezes again. Dean sits up more but Sam doesn't let go. "C'mon, we should clean up."

Sam's eyes tighten, just barely. He sits up, keeping his grip on Dean, and Dean rocks back but doesn't tip over. He gets a hand on Sam's shoulder to keep his balance and Sam says, steady, "Don't freak. Okay?"

"Who's freaking?" Their dicks are still pressed wetly together, though Dean's basically soft, now. Sam's still plump, thick. He swallows. "C'mon, we're gonna get cemented together," he says, and Sam's mouth purses but his grip goes light, and it gives enough room that Dean can lift off, get his feet under him. Jesus, there's enough jizz on him that it's rolling down his belly—he claps a hand to it before it can drop, smearing it over his abs. "You come like a geyser, dude," he says, not really complaining, but Sam's cheeks are red when he looks back up, and he feels—shit. He doesn't know.

He goes to the bathroom. Fluorescent light, pink-painted sink. He wets one of the five-cent washrags and wipes himself up, and he's not turned on anymore so his thought is mainly that it's just gross, and that bed's going to be wrecked, and also, what is he doing. What is he doing.

Sam's hand appears, reaching around him. He jumps. In the mirror behind him, Sam's tall, looking over his shoulder. Looking at Dean, even as he wets the other rag, cleans himself up. Dean chews the inside of his lip and can't really turn away. Sam's got red marks on his shoulder, where Dean was biting him.

"Stay," Sam says. He tosses his wet rag back into the sink and settles his hands on Dean's biceps, squeezing. When he steps forward his dick presses into the small of Dean's back and his chest is warm, damp. "Tomorrow at least. We've got the room. Stay."

"You want your dick sucked again?" Dean says, and that time it is mean and he did kind of mean it to be, and Sam's eyelids dip and his jaw clenches, but he only slips his hands away from Dean's arms to his ribs, holding him. It feels… Dean shakes his head. "Sam," he says, but there's not really anything that can go after it.

A big hand slides up and over, flattening on his breastbone. "It's not just this," Sam says, meeting Dean's eyes in the mirror, and it makes Dean's cheeks go hot.

He covers Sam's hand with his. He shivers, for some reason. He says, "I should take a shower, I've been in the car all day," and Sam says, "Okay," and Dean takes a shower and Sam sits on the closed toilet, watches him through the clear curtain. Gives him a towel when he comes out. Takes his hips, when he's dry, and presses him to the tiled wall, and tips his head up, and kisses him clean.

Five in the morning, or later. There's a clean bed and Dean hasn't slept in a day. He lays down and Sam lays down with him, a few inches away until Dean relents and turns over, and Sam curls up behind him, holding on, his mouth against Dean's shoulder. There's going to be a call from Dad, at some point. Dean's going to have to meet him somewhere, because there's going to be something bad that needs killing. He can't stay. He's wired and tired, all at once.

"Sleep," Sam says, and Dean turns his head against the pillow, knows he will.

"Hey," he says, and Sam makes a quiet noise. "If you put this on your journal, maybe bloodofreptile will finally shut up about you getting laid all the time."

"His name is Dennis," Sam says, and Dean laughs, weirdly glad. Dennis. Yeah, that fits. "And this isn't going on the internet."

"Probably a good idea," Dean says, and Sam says, again, "Dude, go to sleep," and Dean tips back into Sam's warmth, and does, and it's the best sleep he's gotten in a year.

#fffr #wincest #weecest #first time #long fic #my writing #--seriously this one also went too long #but idk it felt right this way

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ofstarsandfireflies · 3 years

Text

@just-inside-her asked for this one, which was going to be part of January but I moved it off the list to fit others in so we got it this month!

Stephen has been waiting for the day for Tony to return to him ever since the man beat Kingpin and had to go into hiding.

Due to their relationship, what remains of the Avengers have been keeping a close watch on him, waiting for him to lead them to wherever Tony is.

It’s been two years, and neither of them have received word on his whereabouts or whether he’s still alive.

That is, until Stephen’s usual routine is disrupted by a letter with the Stark Industries letter head, and a message in Tony’s handwriting telling him to board a specific train and find someone with his height and build on it to make the Avengers think it’s him so they’ll leave Stephen in peace.

Stephen manages to shake the surveillance team and boards the train, finding a spare seat in front of a man who introduces himself as ‘Robert’ and smoking a fake cigarette.

This man will do.

He has brown hair where Tony had black, brown eyes where Tony had blue, stubble where a neatly trimmed beard should be and, most importantly, an English accent where Tony was American.

They talk for a while, Robert doing most of it as he can’t seem to shut up in front of this handsome stranger.

But they’re not alone.

Both Natasha and Clint have boarded the train and have even taken a photo of Robert, sending it back to HQ to the only one who never gave up on finding Tony.

Vision.

For the past two years he’s been scouring the Internet for any traces of the man who had had a hand in creating his existence.

He’s kept an eye on social media, on banking records, waiting for Tony’s name to pop up somewhere or for the billions of dollars he’d pulled from his bank accounts to appear suddenly.

But it never happened.

He’s especially frantic to find him now because King Pin just broke out of jail, and Vision knows Tony’s at the top of his shit list.

But he’s making it rather difficult to track down.

So when he receives the photo Nat and Clint have sent to him, he can’t help but think that it is Tony.

It’s only when he finds Robert’s passport photo and everything checks out that his hope dies again.

The guy Stephen is talking to is no more than a tourist.

Parting ways when their train comes to a stop, they quickly find one another again when Stephen asks Robert if he’d like a lift, taking him to the expensive Hotel where he and Tony would usually stay.

The room is beautifully decorated, and when Stephen enters the bedroom, he finds the wardrobe filled with expensive clothes, colognes and watches, gifts he knows are from Tony.

Robert has no idea what he’s doing here, but gets dressed into one of the suits he’s packed so they can go out for dinner.

After making a fool of himself when he sees Stephen dressed up, they have a nice dinner where they enjoy themselves, Stephen noticing how he’s still being followed.

It’s only after they get back that Robert points out the huge bouquet of flowers that definitely wasn’t there before they left, and an envelope.

Within the envelope addressed to Stephen is an invite to a ball two nights from now.

This is where he’ll see Tony again.

He’s waited two years, what’s two more days?

But there’s still the case of the Avengers.

They haven’t approached him yet, so he knows he hasn’t fooled them completely into thinking this man is Tony.

So, Stephen does the only thing he can think of that would put more suspicion on this man.

He kisses him while they stand on the balcony, in full view of the people he knows are watching.

And a small part of him thrills when Robert kisses him back.

He could almost picture Tony in his place when he closed his eyes.

Robert’s arms come up to hold him and Stephen stops before this can progress any further, offering the couch for him to sleep on while he makes his way to the single bedroom.

It’s as he’s undressing, he hears the doorknob of his room turning.

He pauses to watch, waiting to see what Robert will do.

It turns a little more, almost fully, but Robert reconsiders and makes his way to the couch.

And Stephen doesn’t know why he’s disappointed.

The next morning, Robert wakes to find room service has brought him breakfast, courtesy of Stephen, who has left him alone.

And since he’s alone in the room where Tony’s lover is staying, Kingpin’s men descend on it, forcing Robert to make his escape through the window of the bathroom and across the rooftop of the next building, catching the eye of everyone in the streets below, including Stephen, who is just as shocked to bear witness to what this man is doing and just who is chasing after him.

Of course he had to go and persuade the wrong people that Robert was Tony.

Unable to use his magic and cause even more commotion amongst the people when he was trying not to draw attention to himself, Stephen whispers a command to his cloak, which quickly slips down an alley, up the side of the building and plants itself on the ground, ripping out from under the men chasing Robert, catching them off guard and making them tumble down to the street.

When Robert looks behind him and sees that Stephen has somehow appeared behind him instead of the men who had been chasing him, he stops running and starts asking questions.

And that’s how Robert learns about Tony.

The man Stephen loves.

The man Stephen is putting his life and Robert’s life in danger for.

The man he hasn’t seen for two years.

And with his questions answered, Stephen sends him through a portal to the train station, a bag of necessities falling out of another portal beside him.

But Robert can’t leave.

Not now he’s in love with Stephen.

While Robert is out purchasing a much nicer suit than the one he brought with him with the money Stephen gave him, Stephen is finally meeting up with Vision, who is not happy about Stephen’s attitude the past three years, one of which he was with Tony before he suddenly disappeared.

Both of them should know that the Avengers could help in protecting them, they were both Avengers themselves, but Stephen just shakes his head.

Keeping their distance from the Avengers has been part of the plan.

No need for anyone to die just to protect a billionaire, as Tony had put it.

So, running out of questions and patience, Vision asks why Stephen has finally agreed to meet up with them.

How it couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the tourist Stephen seems to fancy.

And Stephen tells him about the ball tonight, and how Tony will be there.

Except, he isn’t.

At the ball, another letter addressed to him arrives, from a man who could only be Tony.

But when Stephen loses him in the crowd, Robert appears, putting their little operation in jeopardy

Stephen can’t just send him through another portal with so many people around, opting instead to go after Tony, but Robert stands in his way and offers his hand to dance.

And Stephen takes it.

He tries to tell him that he’s in danger here, that Kingpin’s men are still after him and he has to leave.

Robert refuses.

It’s only when Stephen tells him he was just using him that Robert lets Stephen go, and Stephen opens the letter from Tony, which contains a key and an address.

Stephen goes there immediately, having just let himself inside when the door opens.

And Kingpin walks in.

Stephen barely has time to move before his henchmen are pointing their guns at him, forcing him to sit on the couch as they wait for Tony Stark to finally arrive.

Five minutes pass.

Then ten.

Still no sign of Tony.

Kingpin begins his exposition about how being thrown in jail cost him Vanessa, about how Stark went for her to get to him like a coward instead of coming straight to him like a man.

How he will kill Stephen if Tony does not show his face in the next five minutes.

Vision has been listening in to all of this with Robert, who had tried going after Stephen before Nat and Clint grabbed him.

Robert is concerned about Stephen and about the threat from Kingpin.

But Vision’s not concerned at all, he knows Tony wouldn’t let anyhint happen and will come for him, all they have to do is wait.

But he doesn’t.

Just when Kingpin is about to give the order, Stephen spies a large medallion of the eye of Agamotto set into the wall of the fireplace.

He knows there’s a safe behind it, and upon telling Kingpin, manages to draw his attention away from killing him for the time being.

Only, when the safe is revealed, they realise they need a seven-digit code to open it.

And the only person who could possibly know it, who they have here right now, is Stephen.

Robert is trying to make Vision send his men in, but Vision isn’t listening.

He knows Tony will come.

He knows him, knows how much he loves Stephen, so he has to.

Stephen is brought to the safe, racking his brains to form a code.

Maybe a date?

Or even a word when spelled on a numbered keypad?

At his first attempt at the code, he enters 4766626

IRONMAN

The button turns red.

Kingpin doesn’t see this as Stephen not knowing.

He thinks he’s trying to buy time until Tony get there.

So he gives him one last try.

And Stephen can’t think.

What else could it be?

Avenger?

America?

Industry?

There were too many possibilities and he only had one chance.

283...

It had to Avenger.

They were the reason he hadn’t gone to them for help.

They were the reason they’d met, what they both were.

It has to be...

643...

His finger hovered over the 7.

And just as he was about to press it, he heard someone call out his name.

What.

The hell.

Was Robert doing here?

Guns turned on the tourist he’d roped into all of this, the men working for Kingpin looking to their boss, who walked up to the idiot who was now claiming to be Tony Stark.

Kingpin looked him over, noticing the details of his face which had changed drastically in the last two years.

Robert didn’t seem intimidated by him, standing up taller despite his short stature.

And then Kingpin began laughing.

Was this another ploy to await Stark’s grand return?

Very well.

There really was only one way to find out if this man was Tony.

He’d have to open the safe.

Robert tries to secure Stephen’s safety in exchange for his help, but everyone just turns their guns on the Sorcerer, who gives Robert a sad smile.

So, having little choice, Robert walks towards the safe.

Towards Stephen.

He keeps his eyes on him, wanting Stephen to be the last thing he sees before they’re killed.

And just as he reaches it, just when he sees Stephen mouth the words he’s longed to hear, Nick Fury takes control of Vision’s operation and demands for Kingpin to be taken out.

Stephen breathes a sigh of relief and turns to Robert, and then the safe where he’s completed the code.

7837436

STEPHEN

And the button turns green.

Quotes -

“Do you mind me smoking? It’s not a real cigarette.”

“What?”

“It’s electronic. It delivers the same amount of nicotine, but the smoke is water vapour. Yeah. Watch. LED light.”

“That’s somewhat disappointing.”

“Would you rather have me smoking for real?”

“I would rather you be a man who did exactly as he pleased.”

“...”

Stephen chooses Robert for his plan

“You tell me what my story is.”

“Okay, um, I think you would be diplomatic attaché. Or maybe a girl from East Germany...whose father’s been kidnapped...and they’re blackmailing you into stealing something for them. Probably a microfilm. There’s usually a microfilm involved.”

“What awaits me?”

“Trouble, certainly.”

“Danger?”

“Oh, yeah. You’ll most likely be shot in less than two chapters.”

“Is there a man in my life?”

“Have to wait and see.”

Robert getting a little flustered

“Fuck.”

“...?”

“You’re ravenous.”

“Do you mean ravishing?”

“I do.”

“You’re ravenous.”

“I am.”

Not the best attempt at flirting

“Why is all this happening? Why is everyone trying to kill me?”

“It’s because I kissed you.”

“...Do I look that much like him?”

“I am sorry I got you involved in all this.”

“Why are you involved in all this?”

“Because I’m in love with him.”

“Really? I’m not.”

Robert learns about Tony

“It’s just who he is.”

“Could you ever feel like that about someone like me?”

“...”

“I don’t regret it, you know...kissing you.”

Robert’s fallen in love with Stephen, and Stephen is starting to fall for him too.

January, February

Missed a Day? Catch up here!

Day 1 Day 2

You aren’t what you say you are -

Tony has been in hiding for two years, but while Stephen still waits for him to come back, another man catches his eye.

#ironstrange #strangeiron #osaf’s movie night

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jazminebrightxx · 3 years

Text

LIKE MAGIC

°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°

SHOW: Teen wolf

CHAPTER THREE: “works like magic”

EPISODE: 3x02 “chaos rising”

(part two)

The sudden fact and shock of Erica's death hung in the air, tension rising between Derek and Isaac. After Kaitlin had passed out Stiles grew worried for his childhood best friend. But the thought of the bombshell she had dropped on the two of them not even an hour ago still loomed in his mind.k

He looked at the brunette who sat on a table, her uncle looked here over, double checking she was okay, Stiles was confused, he didn't know how to feel about the fact that the girl he'd known his whole life was a supernatural. In one instance, he still just saw Kaitlin, the girl he had grew up with, the girl who's mom was best friends with his mom before she died. He saw the way her nose crinkled up when she laughed and the dimples when she smiled. Or how she played with her collarbone when she was nervous. Then on the other hand, he saw her in a whole new light, she was a witch, he'd seen her do it, she held Isaac down so effortlessly and was willing to hurt herself to help.

Kaitlin caught Stiles gaze, sighing, she says a few words to her uncle, jumping from the table and made her way over to the two friends, awkwardly standing in front of them.

"We should talk" she stated, her arms crossed over her chest, the boys look to each other, silently agreeing "okay" They make their way outside, standing near the redheads car, she leans against the hood as she crosses her arms.

"Why would you lie to us?" Scott questions, a scowl grows on Kaitlin's face, shaking her head slightly "I didn't lie to you, I'd never lie to you. I just..." she sighs, looking at her feet.

"My mom tried to hide it from me for the first few years of my life" she looks up at the two, slight hurt in her eyes

"When it finally happened she explained everything to me, but made me swear to keep it a secret" her voice was horse, her head still slightly sore.

"How'd it happen" Stiles questions from his place, standing against the wall across from the redhead

"Eight years ago" she starts "I came home from school after a really bad day" she takes a quick glance at Stiles, the boy listening intently. "Every little thing annoyed and agitated me, then I got really upset with my mom, which ended in me shattering my kitchen windows without trying" she chuckles lightly at the memory. "she knew she had to tell me after that, I was young, but I wasn't dumb"

"She explained everything to me, but even if I was allowed I couldn't tell you guys" her voice wavers, emotion building up slightly, she looks to Stiles "you had just lost your mom" then to Scott "and your dad...you were just kids"

"Katie you were a kid too"

Kaitlin goes quiet, looking down at her feet, she sighs "it was so hard, when I moved away, it killed me. I hated it, the thought that I might never see you guys again, I thought that I would never get the chance to tell you guys the truth" she shakes her head, looking back at her friends.

"The reality of it set in when Lydia told me she knew" the two boys look at each other dumbfounded, Kaitlin laughs

"Yeah that's how I felt, she said something about a feeling"

"Psychic" Stiles mumbles

Scott steps forward, his arms slightly crossed "Katie, I think I speak for us both when I say, we don't blame you and we're okay with it" he smiles "but how did you know about... you know, me" Kaitlin smiles

"About two weeks before I moved back, deaton came to Boston for the weekend. He sat me down and explained everything, Peter, Derek, the kanima and what's currently happening, the alpha pack" Scott smiles with her "have to admit, I was speechless"

Stiles stands straight from his position, clapping his hands together. He walks forwards standing beside Kaitlin and wrapping an arm around her shoulder

"Well, I for one am very excited for all of the 'Sabrina the teenage witch' jokes I'm about to make" he jokes, Kaitlin laughs at him, wrapping her arm around stiles lower back, he pulls her closer, squeezing her comfortably

"Looking forward to it."

******

"She's not dead" Derek Hale yelled at his beta, Isaac flinched at the loudness of his voice, the two had been arguing over the status of Erica.

"Derek, he said, 'there's a dead body. It's Erica.' Doesn't exactly leave us much room for interpretation" Stiles explains, Kaitlin sat beside Isaac on a counter, rubbing her temple in irritation

"Then who was in the vault with Boyd?" Kaitlin rolls her eyes, growing tired of the same conversation "someone else obviously"

"Maybe it was the girl on the motorcycle." He looks to Isaac "the one who saved you?"

"No, she wasn't like us, and whoever was in the vault with Boyd was." Stiles crosses his arms, a sigh escaping his lips.

"What if that's how Erica died? They pit them against the each other during the full moons and see which one survives, it's like werewolf thunder dome" Stiles rambles, Kaitlin lets out a breathy chuckle, Stiles' humor always slipped through at the worst times.

"Then we get them out tonight" Derek pushes even further

"Be smart about this, Derek. You can't just go storming in" Deaton buts in. But Derek won't give up "if Isaac got in, then so can we"

"But he didn't get through the vault door, did he?" Kaitlin finally says, the alpha turning his gaze to her "we need a plan"

"How are we going to come up with a plan to break into a bank vault in less than 24 hours?" He questions the witch, a smug look on his face, challenging her. She gives him an exasperated look.

"Oh I don't know you tell me, your the one that plans on getting them out tonight?" She sits up from her position, Derek glares at the witch

"Uh I think someone already did" Stiles looks at his phone "beacon hills first national bank closes its doors three months after vault robbery" he reads from his phone, handing it to Kaitlin who skim reads over the article

"It doesn't say how it was robbed but it probably won't take long to find out" the girl hands the phone back.

"How long?"

"It's the internet, Derek. Okay? Minutes"

*****

Scott and Stiles went to stiles' house after leaving the animal clinic last night to try find out more about the bank. Kaitlin had told them she would stop by in the morning before school and see how they had progressed, what she didn't expect to see was the two boys Sprawled across the room, papers scattered everywhere, some coming from the printer, both passed out.

"Guys" she attempts to wake her friends, the two teens not moving "guys!" Still even at her raised voice, they slept soundly.

She crosses her arms, smirking, she kicks the chair Scott sat on, he falls from the chair, waking himself and Stiles up as he does.

The two boys smile sheepishly at the witch when they notice her, she stands tall smirking at the boys, wearing a light purple spaghetti string top over a long sleeve white T-shirt paired with denim high waist jeans and her converse.

Stilinski walks into the room, two cups of coffee in his hand, he hands Kaitlin one, the brunette smiles at him, saying a quick thank you

"I see you woke them for me" he laughs "time for school" he states, turning to walk out of the room "Wait, dad!" Stiles calls, his father turning back to look at him

"Heather?" Kaitlin's ears perk up at the familiar name, Stilinski frowns, shaking his head "no. Nothing yet" Stiles' face falls after his father walks out

The room is silent for a few moments, before Stiles speaks up "ten hours and nothing." He states in frustration

"We're gonna find something" Scott reassures him, glancing at Kaitlin

"Finding something doesn't make Erica any less dead" Stiles argues, moving to clean his room "or Boyd any less about-to-be dead

"We still have time" Scott reassures further, Stiles glances at Kaitlin who shrugs

"Is this whole 'remain optimistic in the face of complete and utter disaster' thing apart of the 'be a better Scott McCall' program?" Classic sarcasm from the king of sarcasm, Kaitlin chuckles, trying to hide her amusement

"Not if it doesn't work"

Stiles sighs in frustration, crumpling a piece of paper in his hand "no, it works"

Kaitlin looks at the papers around the room "Uh guys, maybe your work isn't a total failure" she calls when she notices a newspaper article with Stilinski arresting a man outside beacon hills first national bank

She moves to show Stiles the article, the boys eyes widening and pushing the article to Scott, moving to run out of the room

"Dad! Dad! Wait! Dad!" He runs out of the room, Scott looks to Kaitlin who smiles

*****

Kaitlin jumps out of her car, parked next to stiles' Jeep. The boy groans when he jumps out of the Roscoe, waiting for Kaitlin to catch up to the two, when she does, Scott pulls out his phone and they start walking

"Alright, so we meet at Derek's at 5:00 to go over the plan, and then we don't get started until dark" he swings his bag over his shoulders, Kaitlin sighs

"Do I have to come, Derek's a bit of an ass" she states, Derek's attitude towards the whole situation yesterday make Kaitlin look at the man differently

"Derek's not all that bad, Katie. He's just sour about everything with Erica and Boyd" Stiles explains, reassuring the girl who nods "Yeah I guess, what do we do till then?"

"Well right now, we've got English."

*****

The school day had gone by like any other, boring classes and boring teachers.

After school, Kaitlin, Scott and Stiles met at Derek's like planned

"Okay, you see this?" Stiles pulls out blueprints and a red marker, marking a few places on the sheet

"This is how they got in, it's a rooftop air conditioning vent" he explains the route of the vault that the robbers had took

"It leads down inside into the wall of the vault, which is here. Okay?" He circles the section where the vent is.

"One of the robbers was lowered into this shaft, now that space is so small it took him about 12 hour to drill into that wall, which is stone by the way." He continues, glancing back and forth

"Then throughout the rest of the night, they siphoned the cash up to the guys in the roof, through that one little shaft in the wall. Boom!" He hits the table, putting the cap on the marker

"Can we fit in there?" Scott questions, leaning over the table and observing the sheet

"Yes, we can, but very, very barely." Stiles continues to hit the paper lightly as he talks "and they also patched the wall, obviously,so we're gonna need a drill of some kind"

Kaitlin watches the three men from a counter near by, her legs crisscrossed under her

"I'm thinking maybe a diamond bit.." Stiles starts to ramble again but is cut off by Derek

"Look, forget the drill." He states, Stiles freezes in his place, moving his fist slightly up and down "sorry?"

"If I go in first, how much space do I have?" He looks down at the prints, his mind set in stone

Stiles questionably eyes him, glancing at Scott and then back. "What do you think you're gonna do Derek?"

"Are you gonna punch through the wall?" They straighten up, Derek crossing his arms

"Yes, stiles, I'm gonna punch through the wall." Derek smugly smiles at the teenager

"Okay, big guy let's see it. Let's see that fist." Stiles challenges the taller man, Kaitlin straightens up to watch the scene unfold

"Big old fist. Make it, come on." He pushes further, growing cocky

Derek clenches his hand into a fist, his arms still semi crossed.

"Get it out there. Don't be scared. Big, bad wolf. Yeah, look at that" Kaitlin snickers, earning a glance from Peter Hale who sat on the stairs

Stiles grabs Derek's wrist, putting his hand a few inches away from Derek's fist "Okay, see this?"

"That's maybe three inches of room to gather enough force to punch through solid..." Stiles doesn't get to finish his sentence as Derek punches his hand, Sending him backwards in pain, he hits his hand against the metal table. Kaitlin winces.

Stiles whines like a dying cat, falling around the room, holding his newly injured hand "he could do it"

"I'll get through the wall" Derek ignores Stiles as he quietly whimpers

"Who's following me down?" He rests his hands back down in the metal table, looking at Peter

"Don't look at me." Derek's uncle states "I'm not up to fighting speed yet. And honestly with Isaac out of commission, your not looking at very good odds for yourself"

"So I'm supposed to just let them die?" Derek questions his uncle

"Well one of them is already dead" Peter states, a sarcastic grin on his face

"We don't know that" Derek insists, Kaitlin rolls her eyes, sighing and jumping off the table

"Give it up Derek" she starts, all eyes turn to her "you do know what we're up against, right?"

"A pack of freaking alphas. All of them killers, ruthless killers at that. We don't even know all of them" the redhead crosses her arms, standing beside the table

"And if that doesn't scare your testicles back into your stomach, try to remember that two of them form together to make one giant alpha" she finishes, Derek looks to her curiously.

"She's right you know" Peter speaks up "I'm sure Erica and Boyd were great kids, they're gonna be missed" he finishes, stiles glares

"Can someone kill him again please?"

Peter looks back at Stiles, a stern look on his face. "Derek, seriously"

"Not worth the risk" he finishes, referring to the plan to rescue Boyd and the person in the vault

"What about you?" He looks to Scott, Stiles shrugs

"Yeah, if you want me to come..."

"Not you" Derek sternly denies, looking back to Scott

"Scott?" Stiles turns to look at his friend, pointing his thumb in the werewolf's direction.

"I don't know about Erica,but if Boyd's still alive, we have to do something" Scott states, Derek clenches his jaw but nods. Scott looks at Peter, he rolls his eyes and sighs.

"We have to try" Scott pauses, Derek raises his eyebrows "but?"

"Who's the other girl" he turns to look at Stiles and Derek "the one locked in there with Boyd?"

You should know, I am slow with updates. IM SORRY. but anyway have this crappy update :( I promise it gets better and Kaitlin is my favorite oc I’ve ever made so get ready to get to know her more.

#teen wolf #stiles stilinski #dylan obrien #scott mccall #stiles stilinski x reader #isaac lahey #stiles x reader #stiles stilinksi imagine #dylan o'brian gifs #alison argent #stiles imagine

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dimitrescus-bitch · 4 years

Text

Alive (Bayley x Sasha Banks x Charlotte Flair x Becky Lynch x Reader)

Song: Alive by Phil Lober

Your time at the WWE was one that you’d never forget. You had met the woman who you believed to be the love of your life and had learned that you could love more than one person. You had also learned that it took more than a little adrenaline and partying to truly feel alive. Yes, the adrenaline and partying could fool you for some time, but it was the way that your heart would beat whenever you saw one of your girlfriends that made you feel truly alive.

“I don’t think I deserve this,” you said as Charlotte fixed your tie for your Hall of Fame ceremony.

“Of course you do,” Sasha promised you. Becky wrapped her arms around you from behind and you leaned back into them.

“Sure your impact was behind the scenes, but it was important,” Bayley told you. You nodded and Charlotte kissed your hand. “Alright, so Charlotte and I will give the introduction speech about how much Y/n means to us, Becky takes the WrestleMania match, and Sasha gets to walk our lady on the carpets.”

“Best arm candy in the business,” Sasha joked as she linked her arm in yours. “Now, I believe that you’ve all got places to be.”

“We do,” Charlotte said as she grabbed Becky’s hand. Saying goodbye always took a long time for the five of you, which made the other three a little late. There was a “4HW reunion” on the carpet that you knew would blow up on the internet. Your induction was a controversial one, but for every WWE fan out there that detested it, someone in the wrestling business was there to say how hard you’d worked.

“Y/n, this must be a bittersweet moment for you. Your retirement match is coming up soon, but you’re being inducted tonight. What are your plans after wrestling?”

“I want to continue to be involved in wrestling for as long as I can, but I also want other things in my life that this job wouldn’t make easy. Sasha has a much longer and more promising career in the ring than would ever have been possible for me, so I stepped up and offered to cut things a little short so we could have a family. Maybe one day I’ll get back in that ring, but until then, I am just fine with helping to train other wrestlers, both at the PC and away from it. There is a lot more than just wrestling to professional wrestling and so I’ll always have something to do,” you answered and then you were guided along to the next interviewer.

“Have I ever told you that you give great answers to questions?” Sasha asked you.

“Yes, you did on the Evolution carpet,” you said with a smirk. The two of you continued until you were inside and the ceremony began. You were giddy and practically bouncing in your seat as you waited to go out there. Charlotte and Bayley’s speeches put you on the verge of tears, but you held back as they introduced you.

“Y/n “Y/r/n” Y/l/n,” Charlotte said as she turned around. You hugged both of them and Charlotte sniffled. You watched them go to their seats before you started your speech.

“I can’t tell you why I’m up here. Luckily, two of my best friends did. When I started wrestling, I didn’t think much would come out of it. I wanted to piss off my parents and make money doing it. There are so many familiar faces here, people that I’ve wrestled in the ring or hung out with backstage,” you said as you stared out at the crowd. “There are also people here that I have never actually met before, but we’re all here for the same reason. This industry can be a cruel mistress, but she can also lead you to the most wonderful people you’ll ever meet. Some people feel lucky to have one best friend, but I found four of them. I found four women that shared the same passion as I did and together, we fell in love with the business and each other. Wrestling reminded me of what it was like to feel alive, but it also gave me reasons to stay alive. Hopefully one day, I’ll be standing on this stage again, but then I’ll be giving a heartfelt introduction speech for them. Thank you and goodnight.”

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virtueangel · 4 years

Text

limitless.

chapter fourteen.

wc: 2,345. original publish date: october 30, 2020.

Van Gogh wakes up with the comforter tucked around his shoulders, one arm bent underneath his pillow, his fiery red hair spilling out from his head. He blinks against the white light, rubbing his eyes into focus. He's alone in the bed, the covers on JFK's side folded over to expose his empty spot on the mattress.

"Jack?" Vincent asks. A couple seconds go by with no response. He sits up in bed, adjusting the bandages around his head. They'd come a bit loose in the night, probably from being nestled up so close to JFK. Van Gogh never knew he was such a protective sleeper -- he vaguely remembers clinging onto the taller boy, his hands wrapped around JFK's arm and his fingernails digging into his skin defensively. "Jack, where are you?"

Panic starts to build in Vincent's stomach when he doesn't get an answer. The ripping heat climbs up his neck, stealing his breath away. He rolls out of bed, throwing the covers over until the mattress is just an exposed sheet and some strewn-about pillows.

He hops down the stairs, the hardwood cool against the bottoms of his bare feet. "Jack?"

Van Gogh runs through the sitting room and then the living room, and finally through the archway to the kitchen. He lets out a sigh of relief when he sees JFK standing at the pantry.

"Oh, you're awake," John smiles.

Vincent can't help but smile back. "I didn't know you were a morning person."

JFK shrugs. "I go to bed late and wake up early. The sacrifice is that I don't get enough sleep."

Van Gogh crosses the kitchen to stand next to Kennedy, peering into the pantry from around his shoulder. "What are you doing?"

JFK stops, holding a can of tomato sauce in either hand. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm cleaning out the pantry."

"All of that stuff is expired."

"Exactly why I'm cleaning it out."

Vincent turns around and nods toward the kitchen table. The taper candles are gone, but they've been replaced by a large wicker picnic basket. "Are we going for a picnic?"

John grins. "Yes."

Van Gogh turns back to the boy. "Kennedy, don't play."

JFK shakes his head. "I'm not playing!"

"We can't have a picnic in Marshtown. Have you seen the weather?"

Kennedy laughs. "That's why we're leaving Marshtown."

Van Gogh shakes his head, folding his arms across his chest. "No. I told you, I don't want to leave!"

JFK places the cans of tomato sauce back on the shelf in the pantry. He turns to Vincent and puts a hand on either shoulder. He looks into the boy's deep brown eyes, his face relaxing. "We're just going out for the day, Vinny. I promise. We'll be back."

Vincent waits for a second before dropping his arms to his sides and softening his glare. "You promise, huh?"

John nods. "Yes. I promise."

Van Gogh sighs, thinking over the boy's proposal. He looks past JFK to the picnic basket. "You found all that food in here?"

Kennedy nods. "Yeah. It's mostly preservatives, like honey and jam. We'll need to get some bread, though."

Vincent twists his lips pensively. "Well, I guess we'll need to go back out into town for that anyway..."

JFK's face lights up with a grin. "So... yes?"

Van Gogh smiles. "Yes."

***

"Do you have any idea where we're going?" Van Gogh asks, an eyebrow raised. He and JFK are sitting side by side in the red convertible, their matching orange and white Clone High letterman jackets zipped up to their chins. The sleeves on Van Gogh's are too long, which he's grateful for right now because he can ball his hands up in the extra fabric. His fingertips are always freezing. No one has ever been able to explain why.

"Yes! I have a GPS on my phone," JFK reassures his boyfriend.

Vincent stares out the windshield. The fog has lifted now that they're out of Marshtown. The roads are made of soft black asphalt, and there are lively plants sprouting out of vibrantly green grass on either side of the street. "I thought we weren't going to use GPS for this trip."

"Yeah, but that was back when we didn't have a plan. We have one now. We're going to a grocery store, on purpose. But I won't use my phone to get us to the picnic location."

"You've already got one picked out?"

JFK laughs. "No. You overestimate my ability to plan."

Van Gogh laughs in return. "How silly of me."

Kennedy pulls into the parking lot of a Safeway before stopping the car and unbuckling.

"Wait," Vincent says, fishing his phone out of his pocket. The screen protector is surprisingly intact. "I made us a list."

Van Gogh opens his notes app and scrolls through it before landing his thumb on the grocery list. JFK peers over his shoulder, trying to read what the boy scrolled past, but Van Gogh snatches his phone away and turns his body so JFK can't see his screen. He clears his throat dramatically before reading out the list.

"One: bread. Two: orange juice. Three:-"

"Are you going to number each item?"

Vincent gives the boy a blank stare and continues. "Three: cream cheese. Four: bagels. Five:-"

"How long is your list?"

Van Gogh shushes the boy. "It'd be a lot shorter if you stopped interrupting."

Kennedy takes the phone out of Van Gogh's hand and begins scrolling through the list himself. Vincent reaches for the phone, but JFK holds him back with an arm as he reads. "Yeah, okay, this is fine. Twenty items shouldn't take us long if we split up."

Vincent's face falls. "I thought this was quality boyfriend time! Especially since you left me alone in bed this morning."

"You left me alone in bed last night! With your sneaking to the kitchen at three in the morning."

Van Gogh sighs. "Fine, then we'll call it even."

"You wanna stick together?" JFK asks, handing the phone back to Vincent.

Vincent grins. "Yes please."

Kennedy leans across the centre console to kiss the boy's forehead. "Whatever you want, Minivan."

"I still hate that nickname."

"But you don't hate me."

Van Gogh shrugs. "Maybe just a little bit," he says with a smile.

JFK pinches the boy's cheek. "That will go away, darling."

Vincent swats his hand away. "You're such a flirt!"

Kennedy grins. "I thought that was one of your reservations about me."

Van Gogh shrugs, busying himself by unbuckling his seatbelt. "Yeah, well. Evidently, it's also what sparked my interest in you."

JFK and Van Gogh get out of the car, slamming their doors behind them in unison. They walk up to the Safeway doors side by side, Vincent's hand fumbling for John's. He interlaces their fingers and Vincent smiles, previously feeling unsure about public displays of affection, especially as a gay couple. JFK's hand is warm against his, and his palm is rough, but in a comforting way. He's something tangible, something Van Gogh can hold to feel grounded.

"I'm really lucky, I think," Van Gogh says without realising he'd spoken aloud.

JFK smiles, blushing the slightest bit. "I think I'm the lucky one, Minivan."

The boys step into the grocery store, dropping hands awkwardly, overwhelmed by all the people inside. They've only been gone from Exclamation! for three days, but that's still a long time to be with only each other. Time feels skewed in Marshtown as well -- Van Gogh could swear they've been living there for a whole month already.

"Maybe we should split up. We'll get out of here a lot faster," Van Gogh suggests.

"So... you take the first ten items on the list, I'll take the last ten?" Kennedy suggests.

"Yeah... I'll send you the list so you don't have to memorise it." Van Gogh looks down at his phone, quickly sharing the note with the boy. A second later, JFK's phone chimes.

"I got it, thanks," he smiles before starting to walk away.

"Wait!" Van Gogh calls out. JFK freezes. "We should establish a meeting place."

John looks around the store, scrunching his nose up in thought. He points to the freezer aisle, right before the self-checkout counters. "How about right over there?"

Vincent follows the boy's finger. "Okay. See you in a couple minutes."

"See you in a couple minutes," JFK agrees.

***

Van Gogh and JFK sit on the grassy banks of a stream, the sun shining down on them through the trees. They've managed to find their own pocket in a forest, full of lavishly green grass and spritely flowers. They don't know where they are, but it must be far from Marshtown; April isn't winter here.

Van Gogh took the liberty of adding a few things to the shopping list, knowing JFK probably wouldn't have thought of them on his own. Now, Vincent spreads out a blue-and-white checkered picnic blanket for them to sit on. He crosses his legs and unties his shoes.

"No muddy feet on the cloth," he says simply to JFK when the boy gives him a look. Kennedy shrugs and unties his sneakers after sitting down, his sock feet clean against the blanket.

"We sure like the middle of nowhere, huh?" John says, spreading some strawberry jam on his bagel. It won't be as good toasted, but there aren't exactly any outlets around to plug a toaster into.

Van Gogh looks up from his own bagel, only half of it slathered in cream cheese. "We're making it the middle of somewhere."

"I don't know what that means."

Vincent smiles. "It means it's our world," he says, JFK's words warm on his tongue.

"What was it you said?" John says, setting his bagel down on a napkin and pouring himself a glass of orange juice. Plastic cups and napkins are also two of the items Van Gogh decided to pick off the shelves at the last minute. "'It's our rollercoaster, and we get to build the track?'"

Van Gogh nods, taking a bite of his bagel. "Mhm," he dabs at some cream cheese smeared across his lips with a napkin. "That's exactly what I said."

"I liked it. You should be an author. I'm sure thirteen-year-old girls on the internet would eat that shit up."

Vincent rolls his eyes. "I'd like to think that if I were to ever become an author, my target audience wouldn't be thirteen-year-old girls on the internet."

JFK laughs. "I'm just playing. But I really do think you could make it."

The shorter boy shrugs, avoiding eye contact by looking down at his food. "Can I have some orange juice?"

John hands the boy a plastic cup and the bottle of orange juice. He'd made sure to get the pulp-free kind, because he knows Van Gogh won't drink it otherwise.

The forest warms up quickly under the sun, and pretty soon, both boys have to take off their letterman jackets. Vincent had almost forgotten what JFK looks like in just his striped red sweater and khakis, his threadbare white tube socks disappearing into the cuffs of his pants. Kennedy had almost forgotten what Van Gogh looks like so simply, in his yellow shirt and jeans. He's wearing his navy blue windbreaker still. It's very rarely warm enough for him to take it off. The boys mostly eat in contented silence, admiring the way the rays of sun drip through the tree branches and the quiet dribbling of the creek behind them. When Vincent finishes his bagel, he wipes his mouth with a napkin and rests back on his hands, his arms extended as he looks up at the trees. JFK stops eating just to admire the boy, to smile at the way his hair falls back when his head is tilted upwards, to bask in the uncomplicated presence of him. Kennedy blows a strand of hair out of his eyes, and Vincent tilts his head forward slowly, almost as if he's returning to reality from a far-away dimension.

"Vincent," JFK breaks the silence.

"Hm?"

"I think you're pretty."

Vincent blushes and looks away. His stomach churns, and he wonders how he could possibly still feel nervous around JFK even now that they're boyfriends.

"I think you're pretty too, JFK."

"Minivan," John smiles.

Van Gogh inhales deeply, trying to steady his breath and calm his heart rate. "Johnny Boy."

"You know what's really special about calling someone your boyfriend?" He asks, leaning forward onto his hands and knees and crawling across the picnic blanket to Vincent.

"What's really special about calling someone your boyfriend?"

JFK waits until he's sitting down next to Vincent to speak again. He wraps his arms around the boy's chest from behind, pulling him in. The smaller boy positions himself between Kennedy's legs and presses his head back, listening to the boy's heartbeat. He closes his eyes, drowning himself in John's familiar scent.

"This," Kennedy whispers, his eyes closed as well. He rests his head atop the boy's, giving his hair a kiss.

"What's it like?" Vincent asks after a couple seconds, his eyes still closed. The sun burns kaleidoscopes into his cheeks, warm against his skin. "Being in love."

John takes a deep breath. "Like this."

"Does that mean...?"

"Shh..." JFK gives the boy another kiss on the head. "Don't ruin it."

"John?" Vincent asks after another second, opening his eyes now.

"Hm?"

He wriggles out of the boy's arms and turns around, sitting so they're facing each other. He slips his arms out of his navy blue windbreaker. He forces himself to look up at Kennedy now, who pulls his sweater off over his head. They sit in their t-shirts, one a soft yellow and the other a plain white, gazing at each other nervously. Vincent moves forward to kiss JFK first, his heart pounding against his ribcage.

"What is this like?" Van Gogh asks, kissing the boy harder than he ever has before.

JFK returns the kiss and lays on his back, pulling the boy down with him.

#clone high #clone high jfk #clone high van gogh #jfgogh #limitless

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winter-turtle · 3 years

Text

House Of Wolves - Chapter 2 - Winterturtle - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own]

Tony being human disaster.

Chapter 2: Endeavors And Disasters

The moving came as a surprise to Peter. Stark just showed up a few hours after dropping him off in his cell and then took him here. Instead of the dull grey, the walls here were white, not to mention without stains of suspicious origin like when Peter’s family was forced to squat somewhere and there was an actual bathroom this time. The only downside was that there was no door, but it was still a whole separate room.

Privacy.

Peter kept thinking about the interrogation session ever since it ended. It’s been hours and he couldn’t figure out what had possessed him to reveal his name, but he saw no real harm in it.

For all the world knew, the Parker family’s been dead for years. There was nothing in their name; no bank accounts, no cards, no phone numbers, so they really couldn’t link anything to them. Not even his parents’ clients didn’t know their real names as there was always different name per client. Only codenames remained the same.

And hey! For all the Avengers knew, he could have taken an advantage of a missing family’s identity-

The door opened, pulling Peter out of his musing.

“What the- why are you on the floor?”

Peter lazily blinked. “The mattress is too soft. I feel like I’m about to sink,” he replied flatly to very concerned-looking Stark.

“Uh, yeah, right,” the man rubbed the back of his neck in the same manner like Peter did when he was about to get sensory overload, “we can get a harder mattress if that’s what you prefer. Just please don’t sleep on the floor.”

Funny. Peter was used to sleeping on the floor. Though he preferred sleeping curled in the corner, sticking to the ceiling. He wasn’t sure if his spider part was responsible for that particular habit, but he felt the safest there.

Unfortunately, the option to sleep on the ceiling was taken away from him.

“What do you want?” Peter asked, not getting up from his spot. It was time for breakfast and yet he didn’t see any plate in the man’s hands. So, that’s how it was gonna be. Interrogation without-

Stark pointed to the hall behind him with his thumb. “Breakfast. Let’s go.”

Wait, what?

Peter sat up, confused. “Where?”

“The magic place where food is usually prepared and eaten, also known as,” he drummed his fingers in the air in dramatic pause, “the kitchen.”

“Why?”

The mechanic threw his head back. “Do you want to eat or not?”

Peter did, so he obliged.

Expecting the familiar force to pull his wrists behind his back, Peter put on his best defiant face. But nothing happened. Instead, Stark motioned for him to leave the room. Peter did and still nothing happened.

Were the bracelets faulty or something?

“Well, are you coming?”

“Didn’t you forget something?”

“Hmm, nope, I don’t think so,” Stark said as he walked, not waiting for the boy.

“Why isn’t he concerned about leaving me unrestrained?”Peter thought, going for light jog to catch up, confusion painting his features.

Pleasant smell wafted through the air the closer they got to the kitchen. Peter’s expression shifted into badly concealed curiosity. He sniffed the air once, twice, concluding that whatever was being made there, it smelled good enough to make his mouth water.

They entered and Peter could swear he saw several flashes of shocked expressions coming from the Avenger seated at the table before Stark had the chance to announce their presence. Rogers, standing in front of the stove, was the first one to break out from the stupor. He plastered his typical patriotic smile on his face. “Good morning, Peter.”

Peter gave him an unimpressed look in return. Stark motioned with his hand at the table, his hand barely missing Peter’s back.

His instincts briefly took over, making him stiffen in anticipation of the pain and ready to fight.

Peter, shoulders falling in relief when no touch came, took the nearest free chair, which was between Wilson and Barton. Barnes was opposite of him, looking at him in the way that kind of reminded Peter of the looks Stark sometimes gave him. “What?” he snapped.

Barnes’ expression shifted, this time into one that Peter recognized. Guilt. “Nothing. Sorry,” he mumbled, quickly averting his gaze.

Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Peter kept staring at the man until Rogers placed a plate in front of him. “Here you go.”

All words died on his tongue, his eyes comically wide when he looked down. He hoped nobody noticed, but holy shit.In front of him laid nicely stacked perfectly round pancakes. And those were no regular pancakes.

They were chocolate chip!

His mouth began to water even more. Peter was basically an acid when it came to sweets. Chocolate was a rarity in his life. He only got it for special occasions like his birthday or if he did exceptionally well on a mission, or when he managed to find enough loose coins on the streets.

Peter dug right in. The heavenly taste of the chocolate spread across the tongue, the fluffy texture making it feel like he was chewing on a cloud. Hands down, these were the best pancakes he’s ever eaten. Honestly, they were so good it could make him start to consider switching the sides.

Kidding. He would never betray his parents. But the pancakes were still good.

“Do you like them?” Rogers asked.

Peter’s head snapped up, his stuffed cheeks dusting pink once he registered amused looks of the Avengers. “Yeah,” he forced out around the food before swallowing, “they’re alright. Thanks, Rogers.” Because he got some manners after all.

The man winced. “Just call me Steve, son.”

“Sure thing. Let me try again then. Thanks, Call-Me-Steve.”

Barton snorted, choking on the food in the process. Romanov slapped his back while, her mutter of the word ‘dumbass’almost drowned out by others’ laughter.

“Ah, you little shit,” Stark said as he wiped a tear from his eye, “I like you. Want some more pancakes?”

Peter shrugged, but mentally cheered. “Yeah, sure, whatever.” And sooner than he thought, he made it through another plate. Then he was offered another refill and then one more.

But… there was something odd to the taste. Something Peter couldn’t quite place, but it made his mouth a bit tingly. In the end, he just wrote it off as not being used to that much sugar and who knew what kind of special and expensive ingredients they could afford to buy.

He was halfway through the fourth serving when the questions started.

“Damn, do you have a bottomless pit instead of your stomach or something?” Stark asked. “I swear I’ve never seen someone keeping up with Rogers and Barnes when it comes to eating.”

Peter briefly considered pros and cons of telling the truth. Last time he gave them a piece of information about himself, he got an upgrade in accommodation. Maybe he’ll get another upgrade after this? Well… it was worth a try. “No, just fast metabolism.”

“How much food do you need?” Romanov asked.

Peter snorted. “More than a single sandwich.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Rogers asked.

Peter straightened his back and put on his most serious expression. “Hi, I’m Captain America. Whether you’re a student, or a soldier, there’s one thing that will always give you an edge,” he paused, one corner of his mouth rising slightly, “a hot lunch. You don’t have to be injected with secret government super soldier serum to have strong bones and muscles. A well-balanced diet is one of the best ways to keep your body healthy. The food pyramid will help you find the balance,” he finished with a mock salute before shoving another piece of pancake into his mouth. “You didn’t ask.”

Rogers grimaced. “They still show those?”

“Don’t know,” Peter shrugged. “I never went to school, but they’re all on the internet. But listen to me, Call-Me-Steve, what I’m trying to say is: save your PSAs for someone else, ‘cuz they sure as hell won’t work on me.”

Barnes chuckled, nudging Roger with his elbow. “What did you get roped into?”

“Okay, but am I the only one who finds it weird that he has the whole thing memorized?” Rhodes piped in.

“No, but I have different question,” Barton said as he leaned towards Peter, looking at him intently. Peter braced himself. Here it was. The questioning.

“What did Tony do to make you talk in just one sitting?”

Peter blinked twice. That was… surprisingly petty. “He’s… annoying. Don’t take me wrong, you’re annoying too, but he’s special brand of annoying.”

“Geez, thanks kid. I take that as a compliment.”

“So, you did it to shut him up?”

“Yep.”

As it turned out, four plates were his limit. Peter released long, satisfied sigh. Wow. He didn’t remember the last time his stomach felt so full. He only got to eat that much before missions to ensure he was in top condition, which-

Peter frowned. Now come to think of it, he got no extra food before this mission.

“Kid… that’s called abuse.”

That was- no. No!

“…hurting their own children is not something normal parents do.”

There was no way they wanted to… get rid of him. No, they were just waiting for the right moment to strike.

“Same as they came for you in the past three weeks?”

Yeah, that had to be it. So, shoving away the statements that wormed their way under his skin and getting rid of that train of thoughts, Peter focused on the pleasant feeling of his full stomach.

It would be better if the strange tingling left though. It stubbornly lingered in his mouth even after two glasses of water. Oh well. He would trade the slight discomfort for full stomach anytime.

He was led back to his room when the Avengers started to clean the table. He didn’t mind, strangely.

Maybe… maybe they weren’t so bad after all.

Peter’s stomach churned. He wrote it off as being full after such a long time.

“See?” Tony held his head high, the proud feeling radiating off of him. “It worked.”

So early and he was already on a good track. The change of the room and good food – plus the new mattress, but that one had yet to arrive – were only the beginning. He just returned from the gym where he was putting everything that could be used as a weapon away. He assumed the kid would appreciate some physical activity after weeks of confinement.

“He wasn’t even his usual rude self! Well, for the most part. I think he was just cranky because he was hungry.”

“Don’t celebrate in advance,” Natasha warned, “or you’ll jinx it.”

“Me? Jinx it? Please,” Tony rolled his eyes. “I’m practically a lucky charm of this team. Seriously, what could go wrong?”

“Boss,” Friday’s voice came from the speaker, interrupting his boasting. “Peter has been throwing up for the past ten minutes.”

“You were saying?” Rhodey deadpanned after a moment of dead silence.

“Shut up.”

There was no sign of the kid or the pancakes when he opened the door to the kid’s room/cell. “Peter?” Tony called out. A dry heave coming from the bathroom prompted him to move.

The sight that greeted him made his expression fall instantly. The poor kid was hunched over the toilet, shaking like a leaf, his face pale and sweat plastering his messy curls to his forehead. “Oh, kiddo,” Tony said sadly. He kneeled next to the boy, placed his hand on Peter’s back and began to rub soothing circles on his back.

The kid tensed. “Don’t touch—” Another round of his stomach turning itself inside out cut off the threat.

Tony grimaced. Well, there were those pancakes. Reluctantly, he let go, hoping that his presence alone would be enough to provide at least some comfort. After what could have been three minutes, the heaving stopped.

“You assholes poisoned me,” the kid accused weakly.

“What? No, no, no,” Tony was quick to deny, “you were there with us, we all ate the same thing and we’re alright. There was no way someone poisoned you. Why would we ruin Cap’s famous chocolate chip and mint pancakes and made you sick?”

“Mint?! You- bleh.”

And the heaving was back. Honestly, Tony wondered how the kid managed to bring something up after he’s been praying to the porcelain goddess for so long. But… mint? “What’s up with mint?”

The sound of Clint smacking his forehead echoed in the small bathroom. “Spiders don’t like mint. Laura uses it to keep the little buggers out,” he added when the team sent him questioning looks. “And he ate four plates of those pancakes.”

“Leave,” the kid rasped out.

“Kid, I don’t think—”

“Leave!” Peter said more forcefully before he shoved his head into the toilet once more.

Tony, although reluctantly, stood up. “Okay.”

“Tones,” Rhodey let out soft protest.

“It’s no use now,” he mouthed. “Come on,” Tony said and ushered his teammates out, throwing concerned looks over his shoulder the whole time.

“I didn’t know he couldn’t eat mint,” Steve said once they were back in the hallway, his head bowed down.

“Neither did we, Steve,” Sam patted Steve’s shoulder, “neither did we.”

“I didn’t do that on purpose.”

“We know.”

Peter laid curled into a pathetic ball on the floor. The moment his stomach had nothing left to expel, he splashed his face with cold water and dragged himself as far away from the lingering smell as he could, which wasn’t exactly far. He rested his head on a pillow he’s pulled off the bed and he was here, breathing through waves of cramps.

Stupid.

He was so stupid, thinking that the group of heroes wasn’t that bad. Just look where that got him. His parents always said that he was too optimistic, too gullible and trusting. Ingesting mint used to be a punishment for him, although it’s been so long since there was a need to use it that he forgot how horrible it made him feel.

It was only when his stomach was painfully cramping that he realized that the tingly feeling in his mouth wasn’t because of the sugar, but because of the mint. It happened every time he brushed his teeth, though in much smaller extent, so he was used to it.

Peter released shaky breath, closed his eyes and buried his face further into the pillow. Sleep always helped, so that’s what he planned to do.

Unfortunately, the universe seemed to hate him because Stark walked in in that same moment, carrying a steaming bowl of something and an apologetic expression on his face.

“Hey,” he greeted softly.

“You again?”

Peter was tired. He wanted to rest. He didn’t have any energy left to argue with the billionaire.

“Kid, look. We had no idea this would happen, but I’m sorry anyway.” When Peter didn’t reply, he continued. “You said you have fast metabolism and there’s literally nothing in your stomach to give you energy. You’re also most likely dehydrated. So, here,” he said and approached the sad heap. “I got you home-made chicken broth to replenish those electrolytes and rehydrate you.”

“Electrolytes that you made me lose,” Peter gritted through his teeth. “Don’t want it.”

“Kid, please—”

Peter shot the man weak glare. “Go away.” Another wave of cramps hit his stomach, making him curl into even tighter ball, barely swallowing down a whimper.

If there was something the boy hated the most, it was showing weakness in front of an enemy.

He was aware of Stark’s eyes on him. The man sighed, then placed the ceramic bowl within Peter’s reach. “I will leave it here in case you change your mind.”

The lock clicked after that, leaving him alone at last. He dragged his eyes to the bowl and just watched the steam dance above it. It smelled great. But no, he couldn’t…

Or could he?

What if it was really just an accident? True, he never told them and he didn’t think they had any way of knowing either. So, maybe… just a sip… but he shouldn’t… was it really a good idea?

He hated these conflicting feelings.

Ah, to hell with it! If he threw up again, it’ll be his own damn fault this time.

Carefully, Peter uncurled himself, leaned his back on the wall, reached for the bowl and blew on it before taking a sip. The rich flavor combined with the warmth of the broth spreading through his body made him relax immediately and soothed his stomach.

When he deemed himself full enough, he put the bowl down, and curled back so he faced the bed. Watching the single forgotten dust bunny in the corner, he fell asleep.

Later, when Tony went to collect the almost empty bowl, he got on one knee and threw the blanket over Peter’s sleeping form. Watching the steady rise and fall of the kid’s chest, he carefully moved his hand towards the kid’s head and e began to run his fingers through the brown curls.

The action elicited a reaction, although not unpleasant.

The kid sighed in content and subconsciously leaned into the touch, making Tony smile. It was enough to givie him a confidence boost.

He could do it.

The day his stomach was turning inside out, Peter was left mostly alone. He slept through most of the day anyway, though when he woke up, he was confused about the blanket on him. He didn’t remember covering himself before falling asleep, which meant that someone, and he had a pretty good hunch who, did it for him. He found that weird.

Because why would anyone bother with making sure he was comfy? Back home, if he fell asleep without the blanket, he slept without the blanket. Simple as that.

Oddly, some part of him was… touched by the gesture. It was like something stirred in his soul. Something… something warm.

Sure, the thought of an enemy in the same room as him while he was vulnerable got him on edge, but at least he didn’t wake up cold.

The next day, he refused to leave the room. All attempts to coax him out fell flat. They were back to delivering the meals to him. Thankfully, there were no more sandwiches.

Yesterday, Stark brought him a book. Peter decided not to accept the gift/peace offering, but the boredom eventually won and he found himself reading it. He almost laughed when he spotted the knife on the book’s cover and actually barked out a laugh when he saw that the title.

Should they be giving him a book that was calledThe Knife Of Never Letting Go? Peter didn’t think so.

Though he quickly found himself rooting for Todd to get away from his hometown’s army and reach safety.

And now they were today, back at the coaxing.

“So, uh,” Stark squirmed under Peter gaze. It was strange to see otherwise confident man to act like this. “Do you want to go to the gym? To get some movement? Only if you feel up to it, that is.”

Peter, as much as he hated to admit it, didn’t think about the offer for too long. He would kill to get some actual movement. Those few squats and push-ups he could do in the privacy of the bathroom were nothing compared to his usual training regime. Plus, he didn’t want to get through the book too quickly since he wasn’t sure whether he would get another one.

“You’ll like it there,” Stark, obviously relieved, kept on babbling as he walked ahead of the boy.

Peter was baffled by the man’s decision of repeatedly exposing his back to him. It would be so easy to jump at him, even without his powers, and snap his neck and nobody would be able to do anything about it.

“I think you will be able to use the equipment our two super grandpas.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

But… Peter found himself not wanting to.

Why was Stark being so… so nice? There had to be some ulterior mo-

A sudden stabbing pain in his wrists had him stop dead in his tracks, tiny yelp escaping past his lips. Squinting, he brough his wrists up to his face to look at the bracelets.

A faint numbness began to spread from underneath them. A second later, a wave of lightheadedness washed over Peter’s whole body, making his limbs feel weak and his eyelids heavy in the process. He realized far too late what was happening.

“Oh, motherfu—”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence as his knees buckled. The world turned black just before he hit the floor.

“Come on, kiddo, open those Bambi eyes of yours,” Tony said as he frantically patted Peter’s cheek. How could he be so stupid?No, really. How? He was the one who designed the bracelets. He knew all about the functions included.

So just exactly how did he forget about the fail-safe?

The fail-safe that was specifically designed to inject quick acting sedatives into their wearer in case of an escape. Once they crossed a certain point – bam! It’s a night-night for at least an hour. More that enough time to collect the escapee.

“Man, how did you forget about the fail-safe?” Sam asked from where he was hovering over the duo on the ground, knowing he wouldn’t be much of an use in their current situation. He offered to spare with the kid in case he wanted to since Tony didn’t want neither super soldier sparring with now-average teen, though he doubted that Barnes would say yes if asked and fighting with Natasha could be interpreted wrongly after the horrific revelation.

“I don’t know, I just forgot,” Tony forced through his teeth before he resumed the patting. “Wakey-wakey, spider-baby, nap time’s over.” Lordy, he’s really done it now. Peter didn’t as much as stir.

Tony tapped Peter’s cheek a tad stronger. He hoped the action along with the kid’s fast metabolism will rouse him soon enough.

The minutes felt like the whole eternity, but finally, Peter began to stir.

“Pete? You with us?”

The kid looked painfully young as opened his bleary eyes, blinking several times to get rid of the hazy fog that was without a doubt shrouding his mind. “Wha…”

Tony’s shoulders fell with relieved exhale. “Oh, thank God. You okay?”

He didn’t know why he asked that. It was obvious that the kid was in fact not okay if his weak attempts to sit up were anything to go by. Tony put his hand on Peter’s back and gave him the boost, mindful to be as gentle as possible. One of the points to spark the change in the kid was to introduce him to a concept that not every touch had to be painful.

A concept that was no doubt alien to him.

“Don’t t—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, don’t touch me, I know,” Tony said as he put his hands up in surrender, but remained in vicinity in case the kid toppled over.

The whole process kind of reminded him of helping an overturned turtle.

“What the hell was that?” Peter asked, some of his usual snappiness returning.

“It was an accident, I swear! This was legitimately my bad. I,” Tony inhaled, “forgot to disable the fail-safe. I’m sorry.”

“A lot of accidents seem to happen ‘round you.”

Tony shrugged, wincing in the process. “What can I say? I’m very accident prone.”

Peter weakly smiled, mischief sparking in his eyes. “For a genius, you sure are a dumbass.”

“Thanks,” Tony deadpanned, “Once again, I take that as a compliment. But look,” he lifted up his watch brought up the menu and with a few presses changed the functions, “now you can roam the building all you want.”

The kid rolled his eyes, clearly not believing him, before making an attempt to stand up. He didn’t get too far before he, as Tony predicted, toppled over; right into Tony’s waiting arms.

See? Like helping overturned turtle. Drunk overturned turtle, but turtle nonetheless.

“Take it easy,” Tony said gently.

Peter pushed him away. “I’m fine. Let’s go to the gym.”

Much to Peter’s annoyance, he was deemed unfit to do any exercise after he struggled to remain on his feet. The process of getting to the common room was tedious and slow, mostly because he refused to accept help from either of the men.

He did pretty well with the wall alone, thank you very much.

With the gym out of the question, the movie night he learned was planned for later got turned into movie marathon. The group of heroes were milling around, busy with final preparations, while Peter nestled himself into the corner of a L-shaped couch, his slouched posture and displeased look radiating clear ‘don’t approach me’ message.

“I think,” Rogers said as he was reading something from his notebook, “Star Wars. I’ve been meaning to cross it off my list for a while now.”

“Finally!” Wilson muttered.

Peter tuned out the rest of the argument about how Rogers always took forever to pick when it was his turn and Rogers defending himself until a bowl of something white but nicely smelling was placed on his lap. ��What’s that?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Popcorn,” Romanov said as she sat down with her own bowl.

“People usually eat that while watching movies,” Barton explained, smirking slightly.

“Wait, you,” Barnes joined in, awkwardly casual, “know what movies are, right?”

Stark sat down next to him “Ignore those idiots. They’re just teasing.”

Peter scowled, and for some reason unknown to him, switched to defense immediately. “You know, you all sure expose your backs to me a lot. I don’t think you realize how easy it would be for me to snap either of your necks.”

“Would it really?” Romanov asked, watching him sharply.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Peter replied, matter-of-factly.

Heavy silence settled over the room, all eyes on Peter as he popped a piece of popcorn in his mouth, tiny smile pulling at his lips.

Stark exhaled, quiet and shaky. “Fri, play the movie.”

Peter’s smugness soon turned into wide-eyed wonder as the movie enthralled him. He leaned forward whenever a lightsaber appeared on the screen and held his breath when the rebels were making the trench runs on the Death Star. His disappointment when the credits rolled was short-lived though. He learned there were several other movies, and since they were doing a marathon, another one was put on.

They were halfway through the third, or sixth, movie when Peter’s head lolled forward. The impromptu nap had to mess with him more than he thought, but he couldn’t fall asleep yet! He had to see how the story ended. When his head felt too heavy, he leaned it on the headrest and through sheer willpower, he kept his eyes opened.

It was only when the final shot of celebrating rebels turned into final credits he left them fall shut.

Peter was out like a light in an instant.

“He looks so innocent when he’s like this,” Bucky whispered.

“Hmm,” Clint hummed, his eyes sad. “It’s hard to imagine that someone like him killed someone. Do you think he really did it?”

Steve shrugged. “He admitted to it, didn’t he?” He turned to Tony. “I think it’s time—”

“To get him to bed?” Tony cut him off, “Yeah, I agree.”

“Tony—”

“I’ve still got a little over a week, don’t I?” he snapped. “I didn’t take you for one to throw the towel in the ring when it came to someone. Not after Germany. Not after Siberia.”

Just as Tony expected, the reminder of the events made the man clam up. Call him a douche, but if playing dirty would get Steve off the kid’s back, then so be it!

Without another word, he bent down and carefully gathered sleeping spider-kid into his arms. Peter nuzzled himself closer and grabbed a fistful of Tony’s shirt, making tiny but involuntary smile appear on Tony’s face.

“Tones,” Rhodey grinned, “you’ve got a giant spider on you.”

Tony, grateful for the ice-breaker, rolled his eyes. “Hardy-har,” he said under his breath as he left the room.

#marvel fanfiction #tony stark #peter parker #villain peter parker #irondad #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #tw vomiting

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commonalex · 3 years

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future ready

future ready by common alex

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It was around three months after I've been fired. I didn't dare to talk about it much, but it wouldn't that much of a mystery for someone to figure out why the short chick with the plaited hair isn't on the cash register giving wrong change to the old ladies anymore. To be perfectly honest, I was pretty devastated that I managed to fail even at working at the supermarket, where all you needed to get a grip was knowing how to count, wearing an "Olga" tag like a war medal, and acting like everything's okay at all times. Maybe that's why I ended up sneaking into it like a thief that day, out of stubbornness. It was the last sense of routine I had while everything was going under outside the window.

I could barely get out the bed before four in the afternoon. And when I did, all I had planned was dragging my body before the tv to catch some telemarketing and dumb commercials until the sun was out again and I successfully forgot who I am and what I'm going through. Because what other choices did I have really? For the last two years I was jumping from one dead end job to the next, either until I get fired or until I quit. I was leaving on benefits and a sad amount of savings, and I was starting to accept the fact that this would be my life from now on. Like, what else did I really have to rely on? Studies? Big deal, the world wouldn't end with just one english teacher less. Friends? Don't get me started. Family? All I was left with was a mother with a mission to make me feel horrible every time we spoke on the phone because I wasn't bothering to go see her. But even if I did, what would I have to say to her? I was mentally collapsing. So I said "leave it for now" and kept the thought pushed back for later. That's the reason why on that particular day I didn't pick up whenever my mom was ringing this cherry ericsson I had at the time. It wasn't like I really needed to answer, I already knew everything by heart.

"Have you seen how this girl you used to hang out at school does lately, Olga?".

No, mom, I haven't. It's been like ten years since I finished school.

"She's studying this thing you used to like, she got settled, she even has her own house".

Well done for her I guess, and?

"And you?".

I don't know what the hell I'm doing with my life anymore, mom.

"But don't you ever think about your future?".

My long awaited future, huh? What a glorious future that was. It was so good, half of the people I used to know didn't make it halfway through.

Outside things were a bit more casual that the deep existential turmoil that was described by the news at the time, yet I was indeed shocked by that eerie amount of silence that was stretching through the cold winds that was piercing my purple coat. I could hear a tv screaming from two blocks away and the screeching roars of the phone lines echoing around the city, but there was barely any human voice left. I was only catching some mumbles and grunts here and there as I was jumping out of fear every time I had to turn around a corner. So it was just like everyday Athens, only with a little more of snow and fear of getting mugged. My social atrophy made me feel like I was being chased as the surrounding landscape was rapidly being stripped from anything that was reminiscing of a typical day. Like, that was the first time I ever saw people looting kiosks and butcher shops. I only managed to see like three to five people with their backs hunched, covering their faces while carrying those huge gray tv screens with the vhs player still attached or fifteen bags of chips, with their eyes moving around uncontrollably. All I had in my mind seeing these scenes was the word "brutalization". Maybe because all this time I wasn't fully aware of what was going on, or maybe because the news told the truth for once.

I snuck from the side door where the staff entrance was, because all the glass on the front of the supermarket was smashed to pieces and I didn't like the thought of my hands sliced open. It was a mess on the inside and the aisles stood empty like sad metal canyons. People must have broke in trying to get all the toiler paper and canned foods left in the previous weeks. From the expired milk bottles at the back to the unstoppable static noise of the refrigerators in front of me, there were all those special little touches to make me feel like I was working in this hole of a job again. And no, I did not bother searching for supplies. Instead, I walked around like I was out shopping with my mom, opening the boxes of the diabetes flavored cereal that no one bother to take, just to steal their toys. I also found a bunch of unopened boxes of the supermarket's very own faux chocolate milk (yes, the one with the dark industrial waste left on the bottom) that was probably expired as well. But, I was a lady, right? So I took some of them to the cash register, because Olga ain't no petty thief. I got around my place of work and scanned the bottles to find out that they cost something less than three hundred and seventy-five million. "Luckily, I don't have to calculate any change now", I thought. Never before have I ever experienced such relief while being there. I was sitting in the same place I was rotting for hours before the world turned to shit, and I was patiently waiting for a huge line of old ladies to pop out of nowhere just to ruin my vibe with their pension money bills. I almost started to miss all of those stuff. This must meant that things have really turned to shit.

The new millennium have begun just like any other year, against the disappointment and secret eagerness of some people. All that screaming about the revelation, the second coming of Satan, the aliens, and the revolution of the machines faded miserably as the days went by and absolute destruction was not to be seen. Yet, at least. Because the first planes that crashed mid-flight in South Africa and Indonesia didn't appear before the end of January, but all were like "okay, technical problems". And when missiles were accidentally landing on Iraqi cities, people were like "well, what to do, technical problems yet again". Only when the bank deposits got erased people started to cry and run like headless chickens. Young people now would call me cynical, but you had to be there to see it. It was crystal clear that people had all of their hopes and dreams for tomorrow stored into a single digit of a computer. A kind of tomorrow which was now failing to promise anything anymore in front of millions of simultaneous personal bankruptcies. Then the reactors in Italy exploded due to a system failure and tomorrow officially died. This tomorrow that we were told would bring everything to us, from cancer treatments to all of Britney's music stored in a tiny mini-disc. From flying cars to underground metros. From huge tv screens for each living room to the giant digital information highway better know as the INTERNET. Nowadays all of these sound so silly, but the pain in the faces of people from the betrayal of their dream did not seem to go away. Until mid-February, everyone lost their minds. Those who saw all of this coming ran away in fear of the new Chernobyl to leave the rest of us behind to die. Shops, services, offices, all ceased to have any actual reason to exist in from of the impending disaster. All you could see around anymore were padlocks, deflated bodies on the street from people that couldn't take it anymore, and some shadows of people left to wander like animals while pretending to be alive. Maybe that's why the tv was constantly playing commercials and other irrelevant bullshit during all of this, it was the last useful thing they could show to the people that were preparing for the grand finale.

But that grand finale wasn't so tangible for me. Everyone had this type of end predetermined, but this panic of theirs seemed more like a slightly less shallow version of the preexisting self-preservation to me. I wasn't convinced by those who screamed that the world was over simply because it already happened to their world. Like, just as Rome wasn't built in one day, their illusions weren't shattered overnight. I mean, at that time the supermarket was filled with those obnoxious promotional banners featuring the new slogan that was everywhere lately, before things change for the worse. They had the "FUTURE READY" catchphrase in large white letters that spread noisy and ridiculous lacking any particular meaning as everything was collapsing. What future exactly was that slogan referring to? The future in general, as a concept of time and space? They wouldn't have thought that out that much. Was it the future of humanity from now on? I wouldn't be so concerned for this with all those rich fucks that had already kissed as goodbye from their shelters, we were far from being extinct and in maybe less that ten years we could wake up with someone like Will Smith ruling the world. No, the catchphrase probably meant that future with the flying cars and the internet. The future only fools would believe it would come (and yes, people actually believe that). That future we lost just as fast as we were promised for it.

So in short, we were crabs in a bucket, pulling each other down in excruciating depths. This wasn't living nor surviving; we more or less kept on functioning like bio-robots with depression. But for me, things weren't looking so grim. "Look at me", I would say, "I reached twenty-nine and haven't done crap to be proud of, I drink expired chocolate milk and I'm secretly glad the world is ending because every day was borderline unbearable for me anyway, so how good would the future be for someone like me?". Nowadays the denial of any form of reality in this reasoning stands out, but at that moment I was reaching redemption. I was now reassured by the thought of the end, acting like a barrier that could block this endless loop that was running relentlessly against me. "So finally", I said to myself, "let's calm down once and for all". I was spinning around in the cashier's chair like a silly kid and was finishing up the bottles of milk like there's no tomorrow, while convincing myself that once everything goes to hell, my torment is over.

My phone’s vibrating through my coat cut me off the carefree twirling around my craziness. "Mom" was flashing on the screen again, but by that point I couldn't be bothered for explanations. Still, the dialogue kept running automatically like a script inside my head.

"I just can't get you. Do you keep on acting unbothered by the world? Even now? Who are you trying to convince anymore, Olga? Me? Because I know you have roughened up out of fear".

Well, truth is I was actually fearing you would start with that kind of shit again.

"You are getting more and more difficult to talk to. You are basically denying something we both clearly see at this point".

We seem to say the same exact thing, ain't that something? I guess I was kinda doomed from the start to be and look just like you.

"You really do me dirty with all these conclusions you're drawing out of anger".

Okay, so what? Did you get upset?

"Why are you angry at me, Olga? Can I hear you say it, just for once?"

I don't have the time for this thing again, mother, I need to enjoy my remaining days over here.

"How much do you think this will last for you? When will you stop stalling and start looking after you and your future again, Olga?"

What future do I have, really, are you kidding me?

-Are you talking to yourself, ma'am?

I almost slipped out of the chair. I had never experienced such horror before. I was barely held off the bench to help me get up again slowly with my heart sinking to my stomach, only to see a little girl with plaited pigtails looking at me half-frightened. She wasn't over nine years old, judging by the face and the childish dress she wore under this puffy purple coat.

-Why are you here? Where are your parents?

-Over here, come and take a look! But mom told me not to talk to strangers!

That of course made zero sense to me. Just like it made zero sense for a child to be left alone in a destroyed supermarket with the sun setting outside. I asked for the girl's name, nothing. I asked again, she hid her puzzled frown behind her pigtails trying to playfully imitate my posture with her hands on my waist.

-I'm Olga, I work here. And you?

She started to say something and suddenly changed her mind, running like hell to the back. I was confused thinking how would I look like to someone who saw me chasing a little girl in there, but then I reminded myself that probably nobody would be left to live to the end of this month, so I wouldn't be considered crazy for too long. I began running under the flickering ceiling lights and with each step I had to swallow my vomit. This little girl felt sorry for me in the end and stopped to wait for me at the end of the far right aisle, leaving one sleeve of her huge coat to stick out on purpose. I approached with an awkward smile and glanced at the strange grace she had on her face, with those weird baby hair that can't be caught for nothing in plaits pointing upwards. Despite my awkwardness, the girl stood unworried and expressionless as if I put her on timeout. I asked her name again. She slips away from a second time and runs like the wind, squealing something at lime while zigzagging the aisles.

-You should probably pick it up!

My phone was stabbing my pocket. It was "Mom" yet again, but I really wasn't in the mood for "Mama". I had to pick up my lungs from the floor at the top of my priorities, because this little devil wasn't running but galloping like a damn horse. I finally caught up with her in the aisle with the products of the day and tightly grabbed her by the shoulders. The little devil screamed and was banging her feet in pain. My hands had been too coarse for people after all this time.

-Hey, ma'am, did you get angry? I was just playing with you.

-I'm don't have time to play right now, please go to your mom.

-But I told you, My mom's right here.

"Where is "here"?

With just one finger sticking out of the sleeve, she pointed to the right middle shelf at the end of the aisle. She put her finger before her mouth to stop me from talking and I followed her on tiptoes. When we approached the end of the aisle and my eyes got used to the darkness I saw a woman laid inside the empty shelf. She was in her sixties and wearing an old black nightgown with holes on it. From her short hair down to her nails, there were ice flakes stuck everywhere as if she was just found buried in the snow. Her face with her eyes closed was carrying such an expression of pain and torment. I was so weirded out that something made me want to follow those ice streams that filled her skin's scratches with my fingers, however her body felt so stiff I jumped back. She looked more like a porcelain doll than an actual person.

-Ma'am Olga? Are you alright?

I threw up all the chocolate milk I drank. My body got the chills and my teeth were trembling so much that my breath was coming out in sharp puffs in front of the flickering lights of the refrigerators. I must have look like shit, because I scared the little girl for good and made her get five steps back from me while I was going crazy and trying to clear my eyes from the shock.

-Why is she here?

-Nobody wanted her. Nobody called to take her.

I didn't pay much attention. I pulled out my cherry ericsson to call for help, but the chaotic hum of the phone lines echoed in the aisle before I even put the phone to my ear.

-Who put her here?

She was just staring at me. I asked again and again. She let her lower lip half open. I grabbed her by the shoulders like before and she pulled out a choked scream due to my clumsiness. She started crying and feeling loose in my hands. It was then that I felt like something broke inside me and I crawled away from her because she would pass out in any second just by looking at the state that I was. I sat on the floor watching her wipe her tears from a distance, all while fixing her plaits and stressfully straightening the dress inside her coat. Every now and then she would throw these incoherent excerpts from conversations that seemed weirdly familiar, waiting for me to remember the answers I had given to each of the discussions. I felt sick, like my insides would explode at any moment. My mind was working overtime and I started seeing red. I understood, but I did not want to accept it.

"But how?" I was saying again and again. I can't just live through this stuff. I was thinking that maybe that's it, we are officially past this tomorrow. Maybe that was the end of the world and the time I had at my disposal. Only instead of cloud islands or pits with flames I was stuck inside this supermarket with a little girl and a dead woman. Was this fitting? Not really. It might be considered symbolic, but still not at all subtle. That's why I was stuffed with anger and distress. I couldn't digest what to feel after all that I saw. And what was the meaning of all of this? To make me feel remorse? To help me maybe? But how? So many questions hanging above my head I began to feel like I was melting from the uncertainty. Luckily, the little girl found some courage to pick me up from the floor.

-You still don't recognize her, do you?

-I recognized her just fine the first time.

-Are you sure, ma'am Olga?

-I don't know, what do you say?

-You tell me.

-We have to get out of here, kiddo. We can't get through it like this. Even now, with everything else going to hell with us.

-Do you really want me to come with you?

-I don't know. Maybe I want to, maybe I should.

The phone started screaming again. It was dimming "Mama" with small flakes of ice filling its broken tiny screen. The girl bent down and put this in my palm with no emotion on her face. I answered it. I waited for an eternity so thin you could fit it inside a moment like this. "Hello? Mom?". Eventually the same confusing static noise creaked from the other side of the call, and I stuck there waiting through the buzzing to find her smoker's coughing that she used to do before starting to complain about how I constantly forget about her. Waiting just to tell her that I was here, I was fine, and the world might not end there. Maybe, somewhere, somehow, there's even some future we can fit in it.

-So are we ready now, ma'am Olga?

-Ready for what?

She pointed at the banner hanging from the ceiling.

-Future ready.

I didn't catch my mother's voice at the other end of the line, of course. I hung up and weakly threw the phone on the shelf where the woman was laying, just to hear its dying snout. This felt way more fitting.

-Nah, not really. But it probably does not matter right now.

-But. I'm scared.

-I'm scared too, being in here and all.

-So when will we be back? When everything was normal again?

-"Normal" may no longer exist. We'll just have to see. For now, get up.

-You know better, ma'am.

-Ma'am my ass.

The little girl glanced just once at the self with the phone on and continue to walk with me, with her palm lost and warmed up somewhere inside my own palm. An analog clock on the wall pointed somewhere after nine o clock and the sky was bruised from the clouds that were pouring snow on everything around us. I put my hand with hers in the pocket of the miserable purple coat and lifted our hoods to escape the cold on the way home. I don't really remember how long we walked with our backs hunched over somewhere between the white and the gray. I only recall that we took the long way home, like a punishment of some sorts.

Thinking that I would never hear again the saltiness in my mom's voice was my most bitter torment. I never thought of such a possibility. I always had in the back of my mind that she would find a way to defy any rule of the universe, just so she could care for me. That's science fiction, after all. It seems I was holding on to my illusions for so long, so waking up hurts like hell even today. And if my mom died, I believe she must've left with that pain and concern during her last moments. "Look at me now", I catch myself saying here and there "I avoided her only until I had to mourn her". Until then, the only thing I had on my mind was working on what I should say when I would get asked about her, only to answer that we "fell off" with no emotion. What exactly happened to fall off with her would be like unnecessary little details. Still, to this day, that's exactly what I tell people when it's being brought up. I can't talk about it without sinking in remorse. I can't get the right words to come out anymore, not even by force.

Of course I tried to find her. Especially with the years that were to come upon me, I needed this to have my mind calibrated just to not go crazy over the batshit hysteria that was building up inside of me. Deep down, though, I knew I didn't have the courage to look at past trauma anymore, and I was secretly hoping I would never fine here. Maybe because the end of the world not coming anymore, at least as I thought it would, and now I have to live with it forever. Maybe because the worst that could have happened to me in the end was the postponement of the apocalypse. And this falls heavily on my shoulders to this day. Every day I have to justify why it was worth it to stay behind, either as punishment or by luck, trying to convince myself that there is something left to do with the leftovers of my future.

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