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ranissupercool · 4 years

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Bitch

Fandom: Danganronpa Characters: Mikan Tsumiki, Hiyoko Saionji Relationships: Hiyomikan Rating: Teen and up Word Count: 2,346 Summary: Hiyoko is Hiyoko, and Mikan is happy with that.

Some fluff I wrote while drunk. The Hiyoko/Mikan can be taken romantically or platonically, but it's portrayed as a friendship in this fic

Read on Ao3!

“Give me one half-decent reason why I shouldn’t stomp you six feet into the ground right now, you sneaky little rotten pig bitch.”

“B-B-Because I’m s-sorry…?”

Yeah… Hiyoko was mad. Understandably mad, but also scarily mad. This wasn’t what Mikan had been going for.

“A ‘sorry’ isn’t gonna cut it for secretly drugging me, idiot!”

“E-Eek… B-But you keep telling me to f-fight fire with fire, a-and you drugged the whole class that one time…”

“I… Okay yeah, I did do that,” Hiyoko muttered, unable to refute Mikan’s reasoning. “B-But inviting me over just to drug me with aphrodisiac is super shady and totally makes you look like a creep. I was just doing it to be funny!”

Mikan sighed. She really couldn’t win with this girl, could she? Not that she was exactly wrong, either…

“Hmph… You really are useless. I tell you to stand up for yourself and this is the thanks I get?” To be fair, Hiyoko was one of her bullies too. She knew that damn well, Mikan was certain.

Still, all she could bring herself to do was poke meekly her fingers together and apologize. She knew Hiyoko hated when she did that, but what else could she do?

“Ugh, whatever. At least I still have more self-control than you did when you got drugged. Heh, you remember that? How you were seriously about to use Peko’s sword as a--”

“I-I remember! I remember, s-so you don’t have to s-say it… Ugh… B-Besides, I-I used a low dosage…”

Still, despite Hiyoko trying to act like it was nothing, Mikan could clearly see that it was taking effect. Her face was flushed, she kept trying to fan herself… and she kept strangely shifting and rubbing her legs against each other. Seeing Hiyoko in such a state was rather odd… Should Mikan feel bad? She knew Hiyoko wouldn’t, were she in Mikan’s position, but--

“Geez, whatever. A-And stop staring,” Hiyoko huffed. Ah, Mikan had been caught… “It makes me think maybe you did do this to perv on me. Damn lolicon…”

“A-Ah, I r-really didn’t… S-- Sorry. I, um… To make it up to you, what do you want me to do? Strip? Or you could draw something on me… O-Or I guess hit me, if you really wanted…” It wasn’t as if Mikan necessarily wanted her to do any of those things, but if it made Hiyoko less mad… Gah, and here she was trying to get back at Hiyoko for once. Yet, now she was only submitting again, wasn’t she?

“Ugh, none of that, you weirdo masochist! Why do I even bother with someone like you…”

“Th-That’s what I’d like to know…”

Ah. Crap. Hiyoko was giving her a rather dirty look now. Was that bad to say? It was the truth, but--

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about! You’re so pathetic it drives me nuts! How the hell are you expecting to survive after high school like that?”

“E-Eep…”

“Ugh… Whatever.” Hiyoko, already seeming exasperated with Mikan, let out another huffy sigh. “I guess I can at least give you credit for trying… even if I totally want to twist you up right now.”

“I-Into a crybaby pretzel!?”

“Hey, you remember! Guess you have more than half a brain cell in that dumb head of yours after all!”

“O-Oh, um… I-I try…” Mikan couldn’t help blushing lightly, even knowing that wasn’t at all a compliment. “B-By the way, are you… feeling okay? If you want, y-you can go back to your room and… y’know... I-It might make you feel better…”

“What? Are you seriously suggesting I do something so gross!?”

“I-It’s not really that gross! I-It’s… healthy…”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d know, wouldn’t you?”

“...W-Well actually, as the Super High School Level Health Committee Member… Y-Yes…”

Hiyoko rolled her eyes and flopped onto Mikan’s bed, startling her and causing her to instinctively back off to the furthest corner of said bed. “Whateverrr. I’m not doing that. You asked what you can do to make up for this, right? Keep me company and distract me ‘til it wears off.”

“Huh? Y-You want me to… talk to you?”

“Well yeah, no way I’m going to anyone else like this! Unless you’d rather I distract myself by twisting you up…”

“Eep! N-No, talking is fine! I-I just… ah, I usually memorize conversation topics for these kinds of situations, but I always get nervous and forget them…”

“God, you’re such a nerd. Maybe I should just sleep this off instead, so I don’t have to listen to your whining…”

“A-Ah, no, I… u-uh…” Mikan stuttered helplessly, racking her brain for something to talk about that Hiyoko might find remotely interesting. Unfortunately, it took her too long, Hiyoko having somehow already fallen asleep before she could think of anything to say. That aphrodisiac really mustn’t’ve bothered her very much, even despite the earlier signs…

...As anxious as Mikan may have been about being a boring host, maybe this was for the best. Hiyoko was a lot less scary when she was sleeping. In fact, if anything, she was kind of cute…

Was that creepy? That was totally creepy, wasn’t it? Mikan let out a helpless little whine for no one to hear, laying on the bed next to Hiyoko-- softly, so as not to wake her. Hiyoko was a bit of a light sleeper, and she did not like getting abruptly woken.

What was she supposed to do while Hiyoko was sleeping, though? She couldn’t just leave her there, alone. That would be rude and also dangerous, considering the mischief Hiyoko would surely get up to if left by herself to root through Mikan’s things. Maybe she could read a book…

That thought was cut short when Hiyoko began lightly clutching onto Mikan’s arm, muttering something incomprehensible. Well, now she was trapped…

...Hiyoko’s body sure was warm. And honestly, the clinging wasn’t too uncomfortable. Hard to believe this girl was capable of inflicting so much pain onto someone.

But, hey. She wasn’t all bad. Although her methods were unorthodox, she did try to inspire confidence in Mikan. While she didn’t get it at first, now that she understood, she really had to appreciate the rude, harsh girl now sleeping peacefully next to her.

She wouldn’t have dared try and drug her, otherwise.

“Wha-- You fell again !? God, you’re useless!”

“I-I’m sorry…! I’m r-really trying my best…”

“Like hell you are! Geez, I should’ve just let you clean the classroom by yourself and left with Mahiru, but no, she insisted I stay here and help… You better be grateful to her. If it weren’t for Mahiru being so generous and nice, there’s no way I’d cut a stupid bitch like you any slack.”

“Y-You’re not even helping anyways… You’re just watching…”

A pretty normal day, with Hiyoko acting the same as always. Not only that, but Mikan was forced into cleaning duty with her…

Well, ‘forced’ may have indeed been the case, but she didn’t mind. She’d been gradually getting used to Hiyoko over the past couple of years, amazed that the other hadn’t gotten bored of her by this point. Surely, she thought, if Hiyoko hadn’t gotten bored of bullying her, that meant she had to care in some way.

Er, maybe. It was, admittedly, hard to tell with her. Still, the attention was nice, and Hiyoko honestly didn’t do anything too horrible or gross, despite her insults and her threats. She may have been scary, but Mikan still preferred being with her over many of the people in their class.

She was… comfortable with how things were between them.

“And?” Hiyoko sneered. “Did you actually think I was gonna help? That isn’t stupid; that’s just delusional.”

“A-Ah… I guess you’re right…” Mikan sighed, resigned as always, and pushed herself off of the floor before picking up her fallen broom. “But, I mean… i-if you really don’t wanna be here, there’s no one to force you to stay… s-since Mahiru and Miss Yukizome left a while ago.”

“...Geez… Even when we’re alone…”

“H-Hm? I-I’m sorry, I didn’t quite get that…?”

Hiyoko narrowed her eyes at Mikan, causing her to let out a small squeak and mutter another apology. “That. That’s exactly it. Even when it’s just the two of us, you don’t do anything . Are you some kind of masochist? Is that why you let everyone walk all over you?”

“Wh-What?” This was… new. Not exactly the questions being asked of her, but the tone Hiyoko took… “U-Um, no…?”

“Then why!? No matter what I do, you complain but still let it happen. It’s ridiculous!”

“You… m-make it sound like you want me to fight back…”

“No shit. You couldn’t even tell that much? Talk about pathetic…” Hiyoko scoffed, but Mikan still didn’t quite understand what was happening, so she could only stare quietly at Hiyoko. “...God, you really had no idea. You’re so… geh.”

“Geh?”

”You’re so disgustingly pathetic it grosses me out to watch. People feel bad for you, sure, but with the way you act, they’re still too weirded out to get close to you. There’s no way you haven’t noticed that, right?”

“That’s… j-just because I’m not very likeable, right? That’s the only--”

“It’s totally on purpose! I just don’t get why… All I do know is that if you were in my position, you’d be long dead by now.”

Mikan… didn’t know what Hiyoko meant by that. She sounded incredibly serious, though. “W-Well… I’m going to be honest in that I don’t… fully understand what you’re getting at. But if you want to know the reason I let people be mean to me, i-it’s probably just because I am that pathetic. I’m n-not any good at defending my--”

“I know damn well you can defend yourself. Maybe not against everyone, but me? You totally can; you just don’t. I’ve never even seen you try to stand up for yourself against anyone before. What, have you just… given up? Is that it?”

“I g-guess that’s not exactly wrong… Um… Trying to stand up for myself has never really done me any good before. So… I don’t. B-Besides, if I did, you might…”

“What? What could I do to you that could possibly be worse than what I already do?”

Mikan wasn’t sure how this would go over with Hiyoko, but she also wasn’t sure if she would ever get to see Hiyoko being so upfront with her again, so she might as well admit it. “...I-If I deter you from being mean to me, you might get bored and start ignoring me…”

“Seriously? Isn’t that still ten times better than getting insulted and hit and stuff all the time?”

“I-I don’t really think so…”

“...I think I’m starting to see why I haven’t been able to provoke you into fighting back so far…”

Was… that really what Hiyoko had been doing? This whole time? No, it definitely wasn’t that at first… but… maybe over time, Hiyoko had grown to be concerned for her? Mikan really wanted to know, but she couldn’t be sure without asking Hiyoko herself. “Um, do you… maybe… not… hate me?”

Hiyoko stared at Mikan for some time, perhaps trying to read Mikan the same way she was trying to understand Hiyoko.

Then, she sighed. “You really are an idiot.”

“Nrgh… Mikan…”

Mikan slowly opened her eyes. Right, she was still in her room, in bed, with…

“ Mikan! ”

A tiny hand roughly pushed against one of her boobs, and she realized her position had changed since she last remembered. She was hugging Hiyoko to her chest, arms and legs practically clinging to the girl… When did that happen?

Hell, what time was it?

“S-- Sorry…” She let go of Hiyoko, who immediately sat up.

“Jesus, what was that supposed to be? Were you trying to suffocate me or something!?”

“Wh-What? No, I…” Mikan sat up herself, glancing to the digital clock by her bed. 8 PM… it had been a few hours since Hiyoko went to sleep, so that must have meant… “I-I think I fell asleep after you did. Whoops…”

“Geez… Weirdo.”

“A-Anyways, how do you feel? Did the aphrodisiac wear off?”

“Must’ve. I’m not feeling anything.”

“Ah, that’s good…”

“Good? I don’t think you quite get the point of getting me back with the drug… Whatever. It’s a start, I guess.”

Mikan perked up a bit, leaning slightly closer to Hiyoko. “A start? Um… D-Does that mean I did something good?”

“Geez, you’re not supposed to expect praise from your bullies! Anyone else would get mad!”

“E-Eh? But… You did earlier, but you don’t seem very mad now. You were so good at acting like you hated me for two years… Why not right now?”

“Well… b-because clearly, you don’t learn anything unless I tell you when you’ve done something right. So… good job… I guess.“

Mikan couldn’t help it. She smiled-- giggled, even-- but her eyes also watered and watered ‘til they spilled over with tears. She was happy, yet--

“Wh-What the-- You still can’t take one nice thing being said to you without crying!?”

“S-Sorry, I can’t help it… I told you before that--”

“I know, I know… Trust me, Mikan, we’ve both had shitty pasts. And… I get it, sorta. But if you panic or cry whenever someone’s nice to you, you’re gonna scare them off. So, uh… work on that.”

“I-I’ll try.”

“Good. Also, stop apologizing for everything. It’s annoying.”

“C-Can’t make any promises on that one…”

“Huh? Did some useless pig just try to talk back to me? Did you forget who’s in charge here? Just because I’m trying to help you out here doesn’t mean I’m not totally willing to twist you up into a dumb little crybaby pretzel.”

Oddly… that just made Mikan laugh. “I’m not a useless pig… Hiyoko, you bitch.”

“Hey, that’s my word. Next assignment is to think of an insult without plagiarizing me. Bitch.”

“No… I think I’m still going to call you a bitch. Bitch.”

Hiyoko snorted. “...Maybe you are getting better at this.”

#danganronpa #saionji hiyoko #tsumiki mikan #hiyomikan #fanfiction #ranfic #is that even their ship name?? god the ship names in dr are confusing

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cuthian · 4 years

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Starting Over Chapter Two

Chapter Two

MALALA YOUSAFZAI WINS NOBEL PEACE PRIZE 2014

MALALA YOUSAFZAI, THE PAKISTANI TEENAGER WHO SURVIVED AN ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT BY THE TALIBAN, HAS WON THE NOBEL PEACE PRIZE JOINTLY WITH KAILIASH SATYARTHI OF INDIA.

[…]prize was awarded jointly to Malala Yousafzai and Kailash Satyarthi from India, “for their struggle against the suppression of children and young people and for the right of all children to education”.

“[…]Nobel Committee regards it as an important point for a Hindu and a Muslim—an Indian and a Pakistani—to join in a common struggle for education and against extremism,” the committee members said in a statement issued after the official announcement. The awarding of the prize to the two campaigners was celebrated widely on social media, with congratulations from several celebrities, including former Nobel Peace Prize nominee Alexander Pierce, who turned down the nomination earlier this year.

Pierce, 78, has been Secretary for the World Security Council for a number of years, and turned down the nomination with the now famed words, “Peace is not an achievement that needs to be celebrated, it is a responsibility that is shared by all of us.”

[…]Malala, now 17, was living in Pakistan’s Swat Valley when she was shot in the head by militants in October 2012 as punishment for her high profile campaign to encourage girls to go to school. A year later, she was living in Britain, having staged a remarkable recovery thanks to surgeons in Birmingham, and has become an international role model for young people.

Pakistan's president, Nawaz Sharif, said last year that she was "the pride of the nation".

[…]“We cannot express the level of our happiness in words. I just spoke to Ziauddin [Malala’s father], and her mother. I also spoke to Malala, and they are all very excited and happy about this," he said. "Malala told me that Allah has blessed her with this award and she hopes this peace prize will help her cause [of educating girls], which is what she is focused on."

One of Malala’s teachers, Shumaila Khan, said she was very proud of her former pupil. "I have never seen a girl as brave as her. She challenged the Taliban at a time when all men didn’t have the courage to oppose them," she said.

—Harriet Alexander and Jessica Winch, The Telegraph, “Malala Yousafzai Wins Nobel Peace Prize”, October 10th 2014

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Residence of Steve Rogers and Rebecca Barnes, Washington D.C., U.S.A.

7:08 PM

Steve

Steve’s hands were still trembling slightly when he unlocked the front door.

The house was quiet, and despite the relatively early hour, the lights were off. Becca and Thor were either not in, or they’d decided to retire to their room early.

Knowing them, both options were equally likely, Steve mused.

As the mission leader, he had been stuck at the Triskelion and in debrief a good few hours longer than the rest of the team, and between sessions with Maria Hill and Nick Fury, he’d caught a glimpse of an upset in the lobby. He’d recognized Thor’s distinctive figure easily, and he’d spotted him just in time to see Becca—out of her mission gear, hair tied in a ponytail and clad in sweatpants—collapse in his waiting arms.

He’d been a little startled then, to feel something quite like jealousy curling in the pit of his stomach at the sight of them. It wasn’t like he’d never felt envious of them before—but the intensity and the suddenness of it had scared him.

He didn’t like to think he was really jealous of either of them. And he wasn’t. Not really.

He’d spoken to Karen-the-therapist about it, once, and she’d helped him see that he envied what they had. Steve envied the easy intimacy Becca had managed to build with Thor over the course of their unconventional relationship. It didn’t mean that Steve didn’t love them or that he didn’t want them to be happy together—he just missed having someone to come home to after difficult missions, missed having the opportunity to fall into someone’s arms and letting go.

He did have Becca and Thor, of course, as his friends, but… it just wasn’t the same thing.

His thoughts drifted to Sam, and he smiled a little despite himself. It was still difficult to think of someone other than Bucky in a potential romantic fashion, but Steve wanted… he wanted to be hopeful about it. He wanted to be happy, to have someone to come home to, but it was so incredibly difficult to… imagine.

To imagine anyone but Bucky being the one that caught Steve when he needed to be caught, even after four years—or seventy, depending on one’s point of view.

Steve sighed, rubbing his hand through his hair as he stepped inside.

He’d been able to shower and change in the locker rooms, thankfully, so he wasn’t covered in sweat, blood and dried ocean water anymore, but his heart was still racing and his mind was still spinning.

He made a valiant effort of kicking his shoes in the general direction of the shoe rack, but he was tired, and he was still shaken about his argument with Becca and Nat’s secretive secondary mission within Steve’s mission—again, he might add—so he honestly couldn’t be bothered with Becca’s insistence on “cleaning our shit, like actual goddamned adults, Steve”.

He spotted Becca’s worn black Converses, tipped over one another half-underneath the shoe rack, next to her S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued boots and Thor’s leather boots—the only kind of Midgardian shoe, beside flip-flops, that he wore voluntarily when he was on Earth for prolonged periods of time.

Definitely still here then.

Steve rubbed his hand over his forehead and sighed.

Becca had been on duty all night before the mission had called them in too, so while Steve was exhausted and still more than a little upset, he imagined Becca had been feeling worse.

Steve winced.

He and Becca didn’t argue often—not beyond Becca calling Steve a dumbass and Steve reciprocating with whatever sassy reply came to mind in the moment—but when they did…

Steve really did need to talk to Becca.

The argument they’d gotten into after his admittedly slightly ill-advised actions on the Lemurian Star had rattled him more than he wanted to admit, and he knew Becca felt similarly, because she hated public displays of affection and showing any kind of emotion that could be construed as weakness while they were at the Triskelion, but she had very readily fallen into Thor’s arms regardless.

He’d been too far away to be sure, but he was fairly certain Thor had been as surprised as Steve had been by the way Becca had responded to seeing him.

Not, of course, that Thor would have minded the way she greeted him.

Thor loved public displays of affection.

Slightly too much.

Steve had been there to see the very first signs of interest between them, and he’d seen them messily work their way from friends with benefits to casually dating to actually voicing their feelings for each other out loud. He was happy for them, thrilled to see them both happy after they’d been so incredibly heartbroken before they’d gotten together…

But he’d seen too much of them.

He had learned, over the course of Becca’s three-year relationship with Thor, to knock on every door in their shared house when Thor was on Earth. From the moment their friendship had progressed into something more, Becca and Thor seemed to have an impossibly hard time keeping their hands off each other—and much as Steve was happy for his friends, he’d seen far more of the both of them than he’d ever really wanted to.

He’d also come to suspect that Thor might have a bit of an exhibitionist kink.

He’d somehow managed to look both smug and chastened every time Steve walked in on them, regardless of their state of undress.

Asshole.

Steve’s stomach growled at that precise moment, making its thoughts on Steve’s train of thought quite clear. He chuckled a little at himself and shook his head to clear his thoughts as he made his way to the kitchen, stomach growling furiously all the while.

He spent way too much time thinking about everyone else’s love lives, and probably not nearly enough about his own. That was, admittedly, because he didn’t have one and never really wanted to have one before this morning either.

He was, in all honesty, still not sure if he wanted one.

He hadn’t had much of a chance to think about it.

Meeting Sam had thrown him for a loop, and Steve still couldn’t imagine walking away and never seeing the other man’s smile again. They’d really only talked shallowly before he’d been called away, and Steve knew his poor attempt at flirting probably hadn’t been all that successful, but he’d still gotten Sam’s phone number and the promise of a date, so… He’d done something right.

He’d just... he’d not even really considered what it meant.

When Sam had looked at him with that adorable, gap-toothed smile and had nodded, something in Steve’s chest had simultaneously cracked and healed and he’d very nearly had a panic attack.

Steve sighed and leaned his head against the fridge door with a quiet thunk.

He had no fucking clue what he was doing.

His stomach growled again, plaintively this time, and he hung his head. He should probably scrounge up something simple to eat before his stomach decided to eat him.

He settled on tossing some leftover vegetables in a pan, cracking some eggs and adding in a packet of protein powder Tony had assured him would soothe even Steve’s ravenous metabolism, stirring everything together lazily. He could cook up something more substantial when he’d taken the edge off his hunger.

It didn’t take more than a couple of minutes to fry his eggs and toast a couple of slices of bread, and he took his plate into the living room with only a minor twinge of guilt—he’d vacuum if he spilled all over the armchair again.

He so would.

He sighed and turned to his food, summarily letting his own thoughts stray back to the man he had sort-of not-so-accidentally asked out that morning.

Steve wasn’t sure what would come out of it.

He’d spent just a few minutes casually chatting with the man, but he’d actually been pretty surprised by how easy it had been. He’d never been very good at making friends—with the noted exception of Bucky, Becca, and the Howlies, who had basically seen him and decided they were friends, without much input on his side—and he thought that if he decided he didn’t really want to date Sam after all, he’d still make a pretty awesome friend.

Either way… he thought it would make Bucky proud to see him making things work.

He’d been working hard, since his breakdown three years ago, to learn to love the second chance at life he’d been given, to appreciate it for the miracle it was, because he very nearly hadn’t had this chance, and it would be like completely disregarding the sacrifice Bucky had made to refuse to live now.

Peggy had told him something similar once, Steve knew, shortly after Bucky had fallen, but he hadn’t been willing to listen to it then.

He hadn’t been ready to hear it for a good long while in this century either.

He had heard it, though, when Becca said it, when his therapist said it, when Becky did and mostly when Peggy said it, when she had come to visit him. She had, eventually, come to see him because she was, to paraphrase her, “tired of waiting for him to get off his bloody arse”. Steve had done nothing but cry on her perfectly pressed blouse as she patted his head.

It had taken time, but he’d heard what they were saying, and more importantly, he remembered what Bucky had always told him, and what he had always told Bucky.

I want you to live. I want you happy, because if I have to come back from the dead to kick your sorry ass, I will. Make me proud, will you?

Steve had been on Death’s threshold more times than he cared to count, and he remembered all he’d wanted in those moments was for Bucky to find a way to become happy. During the war, they’d discussed the same, and Steve knew Bucky wanted him to move on.

He still didn’t know if that was even possible, but he had to try.

Steve Rogers would always have done almost anything Bucky Barnes asked of him—and he could try to do so now too. He was working, he was making friends, building himself a family; and he’d even asked someone out, even if he hadn’t really decided what he was going to do about it.

Karen-the-therapist would be proud of him when he told her.

If he told her.

He was drawn from his thoughts by a door opening on the second floor, and he recognised Thor’s lumbering gait even from a floor away.

He smiled despite himself.

Thor was a good friend, and Steve enjoyed having someone around that he couldn’t accidentally punch so hard they’d die. Thor was more than a match for Steve physically, and that made sparring sessions—whether in the gym at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, or in the Tower when they visited New York—infinitely more interesting.

Thor appeared in the doorway seconds later, lips curled up into a beaming smile as he took in the scene before him. “Ah, Steve, you have returned to us!” He bounded inside and clasped Steve’s shoulder jovially before he snatched a piece of broccoli off of Steve’s plate and plopped down on the couch, angling himself towards Steve.

“Hey,” Steve smiled, swiping at Thor’s head playfully. “Get your own food.”

“It tastes much better from your plate, my friend,” Thor chuckled and stuck out his tongue at Steve, looking for all the world like a twenty-something college student rather than a thousand-year-old God.

Steve just rolled his eyes and finished his omelette. “Becca asleep?” He asked when he’d finished, setting his plate on the table, aiming to sound casual—although even he could hear that he was anything but casual.

Thor, kind and good friend that he was, did not laugh at his shoddy attempt to start a conversation and shook his head. “She insisted on a bath first.”

Steve tried not to wince. Becca only took baths when she needed the time to calm herself down.

Thor, it appeared, knew that as well.

“She is not angry,” he informed Steve kindly. “Not truly. You merely… frightened her. You must be more careful, Steven. Strong as you are, you are not invulnerable.”

Steve did wince at that, because he knew that, and he hated that he had, but he did not know how to make it better. He didn’t regret jumping from the plane without a parachute because… well, honestly, there were very few things that gave him a thrill anymore, that were actually dangerous, and…

Steve might be a bit of an adrenaline junkie.

Just a little.

Taking off his helmet in front of Batroc though… that was a genuine mistake.

Thor seemed to sense his conflict and patted a large hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Worry not, Steve. She will come around, and you will have your opportunity to apologize. Loki and I suffered many an argument for similar reasons—time apart solves all issues. We were always fine after a century or so. Two, if Loki was feeling particularly irate.”

Steve snorted a little at that. “Well, Becca and I don’t have a few centuries. Also, it’s a little different than you and Loki. I’m not trying to bide my time to get into her pants, pal.”

Thor smirked. “Good. I would hate to have to smite you.”

“Why are we smiting Steve?”

Steve spun around, finding Becca propped up against the doorway, wet hair coiled into a neat braid, dressed in one of his old shirts and a pair of sleep shorts. She raised an eyebrow at him, unsmiling and very clearly still upset.

“Becca,” he breathed, because shit, they’d been living together for four years, and she was his best friend on this side of the ice—she was like the little sister he’d always wanted. Before he realised what having a little sister like her was like, of course.

She was annoying and pissed him off to no end, but Lord, he loved her.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted before anyone else said anything, turning his entire body towards Becca. “I’m sorry I scared you. And that I put away my shield—”

“And your helmet,” Becca interrupted icily, though her expression slowly eased into something less pissed off.

“—and my helmet,” Steve conceded. “I wasn’t thinking. It was stupid. You were right. I’m sorry.”

Becca’s eyes were suspiciously shiny when she spat, “No, you clearly weren’t. They could’ve killed you. He had a gun on you.”

Steve sighed. “I know. I’m sorry, Becs.” He pushed himself up, off the couch, moving until he stood directly in front of her. “Please. Forgiven?”

He pouted prettily, because he knew Becca couldn’t keep a straight face when he did, and grinned triumphantly when Becca snorted at him. “Fine,” she snapped, poking at his shoulder. “But if I catch you jumping out of a plane without a parachute one more goddamned time, Rogers, I swear to God—”

“I won’t,” he chuckled, holding his hands up in submission.

“Ah, but that is simple. Don’t let her catch you,” Thor advised from his spot on the couch, grinning unrepentantly when Becca glared at him.

“What?” Thor said innocently. “You let me do it.”

“Steve can’t fly, you dumbass,” Becca argued, pushing past Steve to swat at her boyfriend’s head before she plopped down beside him.

“Ah,” Thor shrugged. “We all have our failings. I shall teach him.”

Steve snorted and Becca swatted at Thor’s head again, scowling at him playfully. “Boy, you really wanna sleep on the couch, don’t you?”

His easy grin became a groan easily enough when Thor merely smirked at that, waggling his eyebrows at Becca as he replied, “Only if you’ll join me here, Krúttið mitt.” Such sappy declaration was met with Becca groaning in disgust before she gave in and kissed Thor anyway.

Steve rolled his eyes and dropped down in the armchair, throwing a pillow at the couple. “I’m burning that couch if you two defile it again.” He’d caught them doing… stuff he’d rather not think about them doing on that damned thing far too often to still be chill about it. He’d declared the armchair off limits on the pain of death, and never sat on the couch when he could help it. He did secretly kind of revel in it when others—less wise in the ways of living with Thor and Becca—did though. “Get a fucking room.”

“I can’t,” Thor told him cheerfully, detaching himself from Becca long enough to grin at Steve. “I’ve been banished to the couch.”

Becca laughed delightedly and Steve groaned.

He needed new friends.

————————

Residence of Steve Rogers and Rebecca Barnes, Washington D.C., U.S.A.

9:46 PM

Steve

Natasha didn’t show up until well after dinner, appearing suddenly in their living room, still dressed in her mission gear and looking hilariously out of place, considering they’d all long since changed into sweatpants, comfy shirts and—in Becca’s case—a fleece Captain America onesie Tony had gifted each of the Avengers with because he thought he was hilarious.

Becca was half-dozing by the time Nat appeared, lying on her stomach on the couch, head on a pillow on Thor’s lap, her nose nearly pressed against his stomach, and Steve was feeling decidedly sleepy himself, blinking blearily at whatever romantic comedy Thor had turned on after he’d won the battle for the remote control.

He’d been sketching, earlier, but he was drowsy enough that he’d really just been filling in the tight line of Bucky’s jaw and the ragged edge of his torn jacket over and over again.

He blinked at Nat in surprise, before sighing a little. He’d long since given up trying to teach her to respect any sort of boundaries—he knew she did shit like this to provoke him, to see how far she could push him before he pushed back, before he’d get angry and yell—and mostly stuck to insisting she knocked if she came into one of their bedrooms.

She mostly respected that rule too.

And he had told her, sort of, to come over to tell him about what had been going on.

He really did kind of bring it on himself this time.

“Hey Nat,” he said lazily, smiling when Thor and Becca stirred to look at their visitor too. “Have a seat,” he added, gesturing to the other armchair as Thor reached for the remote, turning down the volume on his movie with great reluctance.

She eyed them all with a predatory kind of assessment before she smiled at Steve and tossed a brown manila folder on the coffee table. “Read that,” she ordered as she took a seat in the floral armchair. “It’s every intel-gathering mission within a larger mission that Fury’s assigned me on in the last six months,” she added when Steve reached for the folder and Becca sat up, sleepy and bleary-eyed but clearly paying attention.

“That’s what you were doing today?” Becca questioned when Steve handed her part of the file, skimming through the papers.

Nat nodded silently.

Steve clenched his jaw and looked down at the papers he was holding. The page detailed the info Nat had pulled from a classified server during a raid of an abandoned—or so they’d thought—A.I.M. base, referencing to… to key pieces of evidence going missing, easy missions going horribly awry in a myriad of increasingly unlikely ways, agents—good, dependable agents—going missing or dying in the line of duty—

Nat was right.

There was a pattern.

“Nat,” Becca said, and Steve’s head snapped up, because Becca sounded wrecked. “This is Sharon’s mission. The last—where—whydo you have Sharon’s mission in here?”

Natasha turned her gaze towards Becca, and there was something in her expression that set Steve’s nerves on edge. “Because there’s something very fishy going on.” Steve took the file from Becca, eyes scanning over the information quickly, stomach turning at the picture the report was painting.

“They’re trying to pin murder on her,” he spit, looking up at Nat desperately. “This is insane.”

Natasha nodded sharply. “I know that. Fury knows that. Sharon was recruited in high school. S.H.I.E.L.D. put her through college. We know she’s loyal. That’s why the file is in there; he’s keeping an eye on things, I think. He’s trying to… see patterns, find out if there’s something more going on. There’s been rumors of a mole inside S.H.I.E.L.D. before, but in the light of all of that,” she waved towards the files, “they’re thinking it might be Sharon.”

“What will happen to the young lady Carter while they try to see these patterns?” Thor questioned, rubbing his hand over Becca’s back when she hunched over, looking slightly green around the gills.

“Nothing bad,” Nat insisted. “Fury wouldn’t let them get rid of her or imprison her, unless they can prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was her. They’re probably going to put her on desk duty, assign her to the research department, something like that.”

“Do we trust him?”

Steve loathed to be the one to ask, because he didn’t want to distrust Fury, but… the man was the head of S.H.I.E.L.D. and it was very hard to imagine anything going on in the agency without Fury knowing about it.

“Yes,” Nat said vehemently, appearing almost insulted that he’d dared to question it at all.

“Do we trust him to be able to direct the investigation the right way?” Thor questioned. “The lady Carter is a friend to us all, none of us would see her wrongfully imprisoned.”

“I wanna call in the others,” Becca interjected hoarsely, tearing her eyes from the mess of papers on their coffee table. “I want to call in Tony. And Clint. I trust Fury, but Sharon’s family. I’m not taking any risks. We already know S.H.I.E.L.D.’s hidden things from us before. We can’t take a chance with this kind of investigation. If there’s a mole, they’ll do their level best to pin it all on Sharon.”

Natasha nodded. “I agree. I already contacted Stark and sent him everything I have.”

Steve nodded. “Who else knows about this so far?”

“Just us,” Nat replied tightly. “Fury knows something is off, I’m sure, that’s why he’s been sending me on side missions for months. I haven’t told him what I found yet.”

“Are you going to?”

Becca’s voice was quiet, but Steve could hear the steely resolve in in her tone.

He looked from his roommate to Natasha, who had perched on the second armchair carefully, and considered the advantages and the disadvantages of bringing Fury into the fold.

On the one hand, having the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. on their side would definitely ensure that they had a semi-reliable source of information and someone who could get into places they couldn’t without arousing too much suspicion.

On the other… they had no idea how far up the mole was, and for all they knew right now, Fury was the mole. Steve honestly did not think that the man was, but stranger things had happened. After he’d seen the Red Skull peel off his own face, and crashed a plane into the Arctic and woke up seventy years later, he’d learned to stop taking things at face value.

Natasha didn’t reply for a long while, but eventually, she nodded. “I’ll tell him that I suspect something. I don’t need to tell him everything else until we know what we have.”

“So we run it like an Avengers Black Op,” Steve mused. “Strictly need-to-know. Only the team and essential personnel.” The idea of the Black ops was that no one but the Avengers themselves and a few trusted others would be in charge of gathering intel, analyzing the data and planning their next steps. Tony had insisted on developing the concept shortly after the mess in Greenwich, rightfully pointing out that they didn’t always have the luxury of letting Natasha run thorough and intense background checks on everyone involved. One day, they might have to handle information so delicate and dangerous they couldn’t afford to trust just anyone.

It was a sound idea, and Steve had been all for its development.

They had not yet needed to put the concept to use, but if Natasha was right, and there was a mole in S.H.I.E.L.D., Steve didn’t want to risk trusting anyone but his teammates—and possibly Jane, Darcy, Maria and Erik Selvig, if they needed their expertise.

“Sounds like a fine idea,” Thor nodded approvingly, although he returned his attention to Becca swiftly when she exhaled with a shudder, fingers clenched around Sharon’s file.

“We have to tell Sharon,” Becca said, not looking up from the file. “This is her life, her career—we can’t do this without letting her know we’re on her side.” She looked up at Steve pleadingly, and Steve had to actively stop himself from immediately digging out his phone to call Sharon. Becca was right, and he hated it, because they couldn’t risk telling Sharon that the Avengers were on the case.

“We can’t,” Natasha said, and Steve felt a momentary wave of gratitude, because he really hadn’t wanted to be the person to tell Becca she couldn’t comfort her cousin when she needed it.

Becca opened her mouth to protest, but Nat cut her off before she could say anything. “Think, Barnes. Whoever this is, they’re very good at what they do. They have to have access to Sharon, there’s no other way for them to pull this off. Whoever they are, I’ll bet you anything Sharon knows them.”

Becca frowned at Nat, but grudgingly nodded. “Still. She needs to know that we—“” she gestured between herself, Steve and Thor, “—are on her side at least. I understand we can’t tell her we’re investigating things, but she needs to know her family’s got her back, at the very least.”

Natasha nodded begrudgingly. “Just keep her in the dark on the Avengers Op. I know we trust her, but we can’t afford for this to get back to whoever is trying to cover this up.”

Steve looked at the files and swallowed thickly. Natasha was right, however much he would like to pretend that she was not. There was something much bigger than just Sharon’s botched mission going on, and if Nat’s hunch proved right…

“This isn’t just about Sharon,” he said, gesturing to the rest of the files. “There’s something much bigger going on. We gotta—we gotta do this the right way, Becs.”

Becca nodded, leaning back against Thor with a deep sigh. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Do we have eyes on Sharon?” Steve asked, taking the file on her that Becca had discarded on their coffee table, flipping through the information laid out in it carefully.

Nat shook her head. “I haven’t set anything up yet.”

“Tony’ll probably have something untraceable and undetectable for us,” Becca pointed out calmly, shifting to sit crosslegged on the sofa. “We gotta use the fact that we have access to tech that no one else does.” She spread out a couple of files across her own lap and Thor’s as she spoke, and Steve was glad to see she wasn’t caught up on Sharon’s misfortune in all this, because he could really use Becca’s insights on this—he’d come to rely on her keen eye a lot over the past few years, and he knew that she saw things that he didn’t.

Natasha, too, had proved herself invaluable—it’s why they made such a good team.

“You called Tony, right?” Steve checked, looking up from his own file to see Natasha nod.

He looked down at the files again, glanced at the clock, and sighed. “Okay. We’re not going to be able to do anything tonight anyway. Becca, text Tony to call in the others too, we’ll convene at the Tower tomorrow—we’re due forty-eight hours off rotation anyway; we might as well use them. We can discuss the best and most efficient ways to set up surveillance on Sharon then. Thor, you’re not due in Asgard for a few more weeks, right?”

“Correct,” Thor boomed. “I’ll gladly be of assistance to clear young Lady Carter’s name.”

Becca smiled tiredly at him, leaning in to peck him on the cheek before she leaned down, resting her cheek on his shoulder.

Natasha nodded stiffly and stood, clearly making to gather the mess of papers on the table and disappear to wherever she liked to hide when she wasn’t here, trying to set Steve up with every eligible single she knew, and Steve sighed. “Nat,” he said, drawing her attention. “Just sleep in the spare room,” he said firmly. “I’ll feel better knowing you’re here and not getting into fights by yourself.”

Natasha smirked dangerously, raising an eyebrow at him. “I’m not you, Rogers.”

“Humor me then,” he insisted. He really would feel better knowing that his D.C. teammates were all under his roof—with the exception of Sharon, but Steve assumed she had Brock to look out for her, at least, and it wasn’t like he had another guest room to offer up. “You can probably borrow something of Becca’s to sleep in,” he added.

Becca, who looked like she was well on her way to falling back asleep on Thor’s shoulder, waved her hand vaguely, which Steve took to mean she was okay with Natasha raiding her closet.

She should be.

She stole his and Thor’s shirts often enough.

Nat glanced towards Becca for a moment before she turned to Steve again, carefully coiling her body as seductively as she could, jutting her full lower lip out into a pout. “What if I’d rather wear something of yours?” she purred, and Steve would be exasperated, but it really wasn’t the first time Nat tried to flirt with him like this, and he knew she was doing it to get a rise out of him anyway.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of my stuff in Becca’s closet too,” he replied evenly, offering her a mild smile.

Nat held the seductive pose for a moment longer before she let it go, nodding lightly. “Alright then,” she said softly. “We’ll do it your way, Rogers.”

Becca heaved herself up from the couch with a big sigh, gesturing towards the stairs impatiently. “Well then, Romanoff. Let’s go.”

Thor merely smiled when Becca looked back at him, holding her hand out, before he tapped her hip lightly. “Go on, Krúttið mitt. I will join you shortly, after I have helped Steve clean up.” He gestured grandly towards the mess of papers, and Steve watched as Becca shrugged, trudging towards the stairs with all the air of a woman about to fall asleep on her feet.

Nat eyed them both shrewdly for a moment, but remained silent as she followed Becca up the stairs.

“So,” Thor said when they’d heard the women disappear into Thor and Becca’s room. “What do you truly think of all this?” He gestured to the mess of papers he had gathered, messily attempting to shuffle them into a neat stack so he could shove them back into the folder.

Steve sighed and went to help, purposefully not looking at the words written on the pages. “I think we’re getting into something a lot bigger than we’re prepared for,” he admitted wryly. “I’m probably not gonna have time to go on that date after all.”

Thor smiled sympathetically and clasped his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Worry not, my friend. We shall ensure you get the chance to speak to your Sam, and that our mission runs smoothly.”

Steve grinned a little despite his concerns. “If you say so.”

“I do,” Thor nodded decisively. “All will be well. You’ll see.”

———

Start from the beginning:

In Hell We Stand By You:

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Never Feel Alone:

(1) (2)

Decisions: (1)

Dancing with a Limp:

(1) (2)

Chances:

(1)

Starting Over:

(1)

Or read it HERE on AO3 :D Find the next chapter HERE on Tumblr :)

#IHWSBY sequel #Starting Over #stucky #Stucky fanfiction #Steve rogers #Bucky barnes #thor #Rebecca barnes #avengers family

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