#one of these days they're gonna do an episode where it's turned around onto Sam and it'll be fantastic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starks-hero · 3 years

Text

Right a Wrong

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: You, Sam and Bucky get to work repairing Sam’s family boat. Turns out the boat isn’t the only thing in need of fixing. But with help from you and Sam, Bucky figures some stuff out.

Word Count: 3,745

Warnings: a bit of a make-out session but not enough to be classed as smut, tfatws spoilers! 1x05

a/n: This is a direct result of watching episode 5 too many times. Spoilers below!

|| Part Two ||

Small waves lapped gently against the dock and the afternoon sun warmed your back as you worked on the old boat.

You were standing side by side with Bucky, crowbar in hand as you attempted to pry off the old metal cleats from the boats side, whilst he expertly pulled rusted pipes apart and threw them into a pile. As if on queue, one of the pipes on the opposite side of the ship burst, hissing and spurting out white clouds of steam. You marvelled at how quickly Bucky reacted, quickly crossing the deck and sealing the leak with an abrupt upward turn of the pipe with his metal arm.

"Where did you learn so much about fixing boats?" You teased, motioning to the now fixed pipe with your crowbar. Bucky dusted off his hands.

"I used to work on the docks in Brooklyn before the war." He shrugged, rolling up his sleeves to the elbow and taking a seat on a crate next to you. "I picked up a few things."

He furthered his point by leaning over and pulling at the cleat you'd been grappling with. It came away from where it was attached to the boat's side with ease in Buckys iron grip. He smirked as he tossed the scrap aside and you rolled your eyes.

"Show off."

Bucky chuckled, sitting back as Sam stepped onto the boat. He was carrying a crate in one hand and shook his head when he noticed Bucky's smirk and your dismissive smile.

"Alright, you two." He placed the crate down and pulled out two green bottles, throwing one to Bucky and handing you the other. "Beer break."

Sam took a seat across from you both and you sighed as you opened your beer, raising it up to Bucky.

His annoyance was discredited by the fond smile that broke through his expression as he begrudgingly clinked his bottle with yours. You reached over and did the same with Sam as the three of you relaxed under the heat of the Louisiana sun.

"It's starting to look good," you noted as you glanced around the boat and Sam smiled.

"Yeah, it's coming together." He took a swig of his beer. "You know, Sarah and I were talking." He started and both you and Bucky glanced up at him. "And we could use the help. Don't suppose you two would consider staying around a while? Just till we get a lead on Karli."

The offer caused a noticeable smile to pull at your lips whilst Bucky shifted beside you at Sam's words. His agitation grew and he stood.

"I've got my plane to catch tomorrow, a hotel room for the night," he said, raising his bottle to his lips to hide his doubt. He really didn't have that much of a plan beyond that.

"You're just gonna set me up like that, huh?" Sam asked and Bucky shrugged.

"Well, I don't want to make it weird for your family."

"Just stay here," Sam said and you couldn't help but nod subconsciously. The truth was you really didn't really want to leave. There was something about staying with the Wilson's and spending the day fixing up an old run-down family boat that made everything seem so normal. It gave you a sense of home, a sense of normality that you hadn't had in a long time. For a while, it even made you forget about the flag smashers, Walker, all of it. It was a much-needed break.

"The people in this town are the most welcoming in the world. They don't care if you wear small t-shirts or if you've got six toes or if your mom is your aunt-"

You laughed and Bucky barely hid a chuckle behind a huff of breath and a bright smile.

"Okay, I get it. The people are nice."

You placed your bottle aside and turned to Sam.

"You're sure Sarah doesn't mind?" you asked and Sam's smile only widened.

"She's the one that offered."

Grinning, you sat back and nodded. "Then I don't see why not."

"See?" Sam pointed to you and then Bucky. "Just stay, man."

Bucky shuffled his feet for a moment before finally answering with a begrudging, "Okay. Alright." He didn't say anything else as he turned and walked down the boat.

"He'll come around. He probably just wants his space." You said, picking up your beer. Sam nodded, taking a swig of his own drink.

"I hope you're right."

You woke up feeling more refreshed than you had in a while. Your hands and back hurt slightly from the tiring work on the boat, but it was a dull ache compared to the constant throbbing that came after a mission. Your cheeks were warm, surely as a result of the hours spent out in the sun the day before.

Both you and Bucky stayed the night. Sarah had offered you the spare room and after a solid fifteen minutes of bickering, you finally conceded to Bucky and agreed to sleep in the guest bed. He took the couch.

The sun was just beginning to rise up over the water when you and Bucky both headed back out to the boat. Sam joined you not long after. You worked until mid-afternoon, reluctantly taking short breaks. You fell into a quick rhythm as you worked around the boat. Surprisingly, the three of you seemed to make a pretty decent team off of the battlefield.

"Hey, can you pass me a 12-300?" Sam asked from under the boat's control panel. Bucky reached into the toolbox and placed the wrench in Sam's outstretched hand. A few seconds later Sam was rolling out from under the controls and glaring disapprovingly at Bucky.

"What?"

"I asked for a 12-300," Sam stated plainly. "This is a 10-250."

"No, it's not." Bucky bit back.

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not!"

"Hey, geniuses." You cut their bickering short as both men turned to look at you. You held up the grease-slick wrench that had been misplaced and tossed it to Sam. "You left it below deck when you were working on the engine."

Sam muttered a quiet 'thanks' as he got back to work. Silence settled over the three of you for a few minutes until Sam decided it was getting awkward.

"So, are you still planning on leaving tonight?" He asked from under the station and Bucky nodded, before realising Sam couldn't see him.

"Yeah," he said loud enough for Sam to hear. "I'll be out of your way soon."

You could hear Sam's sigh from beneath you as he clambered back to his feet and stood between you and the super-soldier leaning against the wall of the cabin.

"Well, there's no hurry."

Sam didn't say anything else as he cleaned the oil and grease from his hands with a cloth and stepped off the boat. Bucky sighed and let his head fall back behind him.

"Go," you ordered plainly and he looked up at you.

"What?"

"Go," you said again, nodding your head towards where Sam was walking away. "You both need to talk. Bucky, whatever you're not saying, it's getting to you. So go talk to him."

Bucky hesitated, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He glared at nothing in particular but his gaze softened when it found you and he muttered a quiet, 'fine.' You stepped aside as he made his way past you and stepped up onto the dock, heading after Sam.

"And don't be a smart ass!" You called after him. He didn't reply, but you could only hope that Sam and Bucky's conversation would be somewhat constructive.

"Nice shot!" You retrieved the football from the back of the goal as Cass, Sam's eldest nephew, celebrated his score.

Once Sam and Bucky had left the boat, you had headed back to the house, helping Sarah with any errands or chores, doing anything you could to help out. Sam and Bucky had been gone a little over an hour and you didn't know if that meant their talk was going very well or very not. You'd been sitting rather uselessly on the couch, waiting in anticipation, when Sam's nephews had invited you to play a game of football. And how could you refuse?

You tossed the ball back to the boys who eagerly pounced at it. You were stood in the small goal, allowing both boys to take as many shots as they wanted. AJ stepped forward and kicked the ball, groaning when it flew off to the left, a few meters away from where you were standing and missed the net entirely. He glanced down at the ground, disheartened.

“Hey, it's alright, AJ.” You smiled as you ran to grab the ball and passed it back to him. “Come on, try again.”

With encouragement from his brother, he took the shot and this time the ball planted itself in the top corner of the goal. Both boys cheered as they celebrated and you smiled. You dusted yourself off, your knees and hands covered in dust from the football game as you turned to head back inside the house. Both boys protested as you left but you promised them you'd be back. The more time you spent with AJ, Cass, Sam and Sarah, the more you didn't want to leave. There was something about staying with the Wilson's that made you feel content. It was homely and offered a sense of normality that the last few weeks had caused you to miss.

You entered the kitchen and poured yourself a glass of water. Sarah had told you over and over again to help yourself to anything in the kitchen. You leaned against the counter, glass in hand and just basked in the feeling of not having to worry about donning a suit and risking your life at a moments notice. It was something you could get used to.

“That was adorable.”

Your head snapped up at the sound of a voice and you found Bucky joining you in the kitchen. He was smirking fondly.

“You and the boys.”

You chuckled softly and shrugged. “They're sweet kids.”

Bucky nodded, pulling a glass of his own from the shelf and filling it with water from the tap. It furthered the sense of domesticity that you were really starting to love. He took a seat at the table across from you.

“So,” you started as you placed your own glass aside. “How did it go? You and Sam.”

Bucky chuckled and you couldn't tell if it was sarcastic or genuine, but something about the grin that lingered on his lips had you banking on the latter.

‘‘Not bad,” he admitted eventually with a shrug. He hesitated for a moment before continuing. “We talked. He said if I'm going to fix anything, if I'm going to get what's left of him out of my mind.” Bucky subconsciously ran his hand across his temple. “I'm going to have to put in the work. Help the people I wronged instead of just saying sorry.”

You nodded, silently making a note to thank Sam later on. He always had a way with words, he could always get through to people. That's why he was given the shield.

“He's got a point.”

Bucky scoffed and hung his head at your words. “I should have known you'd be on his side.” There was no hostility in his words. He just sounded amused, and maybe a little tired.

“I don't think this comes down to whose side I'm on, Bucky. We both want what's best for you.” You answered honestly and Bucky glimpsed up at you. He anxiously toyed with his hands as you spoke, looking vulnerable, and slightly lost despite how hard he tried to hide it. You knew Sam had already spoken to him, but it couldn't hurt for you to say something as well.

“Look Bucky, telling yourself that you're okay and that everything that happened doesn't matter anymore because you've made 'amends' isn't going to help.”

He sighed, shuffling his feet against the tiles of the kitchen floor. “I know,” he admitted quietly.

“And I know you're probably tired of hearing this but, you're not him anymore, Bucky. You're not the winter soldier. Everything you did whilst you were him wasn't your choice. Just because you remember it doesn't mean that it was your fault. It's not your responsibility to fix it.”

Bucky sighed but didn't interrupt. He was listening. This wasn't like the therapist that he was forced to sit in front of and lie to every other week. This was someone he trusted, someone whose words he valued. Someone he honestly believed could help. He sighed but nodded to show that he was still listening.

“I think Sam’s right,” you said. “It might not be your responsibility to fix everything that went wrong but trying could help. It could give you that closure that you keep chasing after. You need to let go, Bucky. You need to forgive yourself. Maybe you just need the people who are hurting to forgive you first. Then you can learn how to do the same.”

Bucky's expression was unreadable. So many emotions flashed across his eyes you found it difficult to pinpoint just one.

“How do I start?” he asked quietly. It just seemed impossible. There were so many people he'd hurt, so many people he'd wronged. He'd left children as orphans, wives as widows and parents childless. How could he possibly start trying to fix or make all those people feel in any way better?

You smiled softly at his question. “Small. One at a time,” you said simply. “Then just keep putting one in front of the other.”

Bucky considered your words, glancing down at his hands as he thought. Before long, a small smirk pulled at his lips.

“I can't decide who'd make a better therapist. You or Sam,” he joked and you laughed, shaking your head dismissively.

“Well, Sam did council veterans so I think he takes that title.”

“I'd say it's pretty tied,” Bucky said, walking across the kitchen and standing next to you as he washed his glass, drying it off and placing it back on the shelf. The room fell into a comfortable silence.

“Thank you, Y/N.” He said after a moment, his tone sincere and his expression genuine as he looked at you. You nodded, gently placing your hand against his shoulder.

“Don't mention it. You know I'm always here if you need to talk.”

The sound of a football colliding with the wall dangerously close to the window followed by two voice's loudly shouting, 'sorry!' in unison drew a quaint laugh from you both.

“Duty calls.” You grinned, patting Bucky on the back as you passed him. “Team Wilson is missing its goalkeeper.”

Bucky chuckled, watching you go. You crossed the kitchen but his voice stopped you just as your hand reached the doors handle.

“Y/N?”

You turned back around to face him and couldn't help but notice that he seemed a little more apprehensive than he had before.

“Yeah?”

He exhaled slowly, willing himself to tell you what was on his mind.

“I was just thinking things over and you know, I’m leaving today,” he hesitated slightly before glancing up at you. “And I guess I was wondering if you’d come with me?”

Your hand slipped from where it was still holding the brass handle of the door. You tilted your head as your mind fully processed his question. The shock must have been evident in your expression as Bucky rushed to continue.

“I know you're planning on staying here and I get why.” He pulled a tattered red book from his pocket which you immediately recognized as Steve’s. He began absentmindedly turning the pages, running his fingers over the paper. “I want to try and start fixing things, making things right. But truth is I have no idea where to start. I thought that maybe you could help me with that?”

“I thought you wanted your space," you admitted after a moment.

“No.” He shook his head. “That's the last thing I want.”

You thought it over, resting your back against the door. Bucky trusted you, evidently a lot more than you thought he did. Not only was he comfortable enough telling you how he felt and admitting he didn't know what to do next. But he also wanted you with him. It was clear he was holding back, not wanting to overwhelm you by admitting just how badly he wanted you to go with him. But the way he eagerly watched you as he waited patiently for your answer was a dead give away.

You wanted to help Bucky, you wanted to be there for him. If that meant helping him right his wrongs and staying with him during that trying time, at least until Sam got a lead on Karli and the Flag Smashers, then you were more than happy to comply.

“You're sure about this?” you asked and Bucky pushed off the counter and crossed the room, stopping just in front of you.

“Absolutely.” His voice dropped down to a hushed whisper. “Come with me.” His hand gently caught your wrist, his fingers running up your arm. His face was inches from yours now, your breaths mingling. “Please?”

His lips pressed to yours before you could answer and you immediately kissed back. Your hand fell against his shoulder, the other laying gently against the nape of his neck. He groaned quietly against you, his arms finding your waist as he gently guided you backwards till your back met the wall. He pressed into you, his hands roaming up your body and you moaned as he deepened the kiss.

“Yes.” You answered when he pulled away slightly and he smiled against you, relieved. Neither of you said anything else as Bucky sighed and pulled you closer, his thigh slipping between your legs as he pinned you to the wall.

God, he'd wanted to do this for so long. Wanted to kiss you, to feel you against him. He wanted you. Your hand slipped into his hair and you pulled him closer, smirking against him. You'd wanted this just as bad. And you both only had your own stubbornness to blame for taking so damn long. It didn't matter now though. Not as he gently bit down on your lower lip and you slipped your hand under his shirt and felt up his chest. It all felt so natural, so right.

“Ten minutes.”

Both your eyes flew open at the all too familiar voice, Bucky pulling away from you so quickly he only barely avoided falling over a nearby chair.

“I left you two alone to talk for ten minutes,” Sam repeated from where he was standing on the other side of the room, his arms crossed. You tried to subtly smoothen out your clothes whilst Bucky ran his hand through his tangled hair.

“We were,” Bucky said, clearing his throat. “We were talking. We...talked.”

Sam nodded, entirely unconvinced, and smirked. He reclined against the counter, showing no sign of leaving anytime soon. A painfully awkward silence settled over the kitchen as Sam continued to shift his knowing stare from you to Bucky.

The humiliation of the entire situation seemed to get to Bucky first as he clasped his hands together after less than a minute.

“You know, what? I'm leaving in a few hours and I've got to pack so I better just go-” Bucky rambled as he shot you a subtle apologetic look before turning to Sam, who was nodding along in faux agreement to his pathetic attempt of an excuse.

Bucky quickly crossed the kitchen, Sam harshly patting him on the back as he passed him and left the room. Leaving just you and Sam alone. You turned to your friend and found that he was still grinning at you with that same mischievous look in his eyes. You felt like a deer in headlights. In an attempt to act as though Sam hadn't just walked in on you and Bucky making out, you tried making normal conversation.

“Sam, there was actually something I wanted to tell you. I know I said I was going to stay for a while but I guess there's been a change of plan. I-”

“I know.” He cut you off and his smile only widened when you looked at him in utter confusion. “You honestly think he would have asked you to go with him if I didn't tell him to get his shit together first?”

Your confusion slowly melted away and was replaced with a look of disbelief. You laughed despite yourself. You should have known Sam had something to do with it. ‘‘How long have you been playing cupid?” you asked jokingly and Sam chuckled.

“He needs you, Y/N. More than he wants to admit,” Sam said, tone now more serious than before. “Things will be fine here, I'll call you as soon as Torres finds us something to work with. But right now, he needs your help before that hole he's stuck in gets too deep for him to climb out of.”

You sighed as the weight of Sam's words set in. He was right, Bucky really did need you. That wasn't a responsibility you could afford to take lightly. Not that you planned to.

“Thanks, Sam,” you said genuinely and Sam smirked as he crossed the room and pulled you into a hug. He could tell you needed it.

“Anytime.” He pulled away and offered you a warning glare. “But I swear, if you two making out the minute I turn my back becomes a regular thing I'm going to kick both your asses.”

“Got it,” you nodded, barely stifling a laugh.

Sam's scowl melted into a smile and he motioned towards the stairs. “Go on, get your things together. You've got a plane to catch in a few hours.”

You smiled and headed upstairs after Bucky. Sam leaned against the counter with his arms crossed and a satisfied smile. Getting you two together had taken more work than he'd thought. But he knew it would be worth it, you both needed each other. Whether you were willing to admit it or not. And Sam was confident that if there was anyone that could help Bucky and offer him that sense of home and peace that he was so desperately craving, it was you.

tag list: @bakerstreethound @miraclesoflove @doozywoozy @kealohilani-tepise

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #James Buchanan Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes #tfatws spoilers #tfaws #tfatws x reader #platonic!sam x reader #sebastian stan x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fic #marvel x reader #1k

2K notes · View notes

rendevousz · 3 years

Text

niagara falls of blood?

avengers x fem!teen!reader

summary: pretty much what the title is, you on your period

warnings: your moodswings ig

word count: 2765

"rise and shine, y/n!" you hear an annoying voice sing just as the lights flickered on. you grumbled something inaudible, hiding underneath your blanket to shield yourself from the brightness that steve just brought upon your room.

"y/n/n, come on. wakey-wakey!" you groan, feeling super unmotivated to train today. you even felt like punching steve in his perfect-looking face just for waking you up at the crack ass of dawn. this was unusual because you loved jogs before the sun came up and trainings before it hit noon.

"steve, if you don't shut the hell up right now, i'm gonna push you into that lake beside our usual jogging route."

"jeez, y/n, woke up on the wrong side or what?" he teases, finally leaving once he saw you were already sitting up. you groggily walked to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth before changing into your workout clothes.

"no!" you whine when you saw that you were on your period. that's why you were in a crappy mood when steve woke you up. you begrudgingly dressed up after putting on a pad, grabbing a small towel on the way out.

like you did every morning, you were gonna go on a run with steve, bucky and sam. while you loved running, you hated how steve and bucky "cheated" —as you and sam liked to call it— with their super soldier staminas. that was why you loved having sam there. not only was he great company but he was also moral support because you two would always be hilariously overtook by steve and bucky multiple times. but that didn't matter because you two would always be completely immersed in your conversations every time.

but not today though. you already knew today was going to be different. you had gotten a bad start to the day with steve's and your usual morning routine which somehow annoyed you this one time. and having to run around with your cramps definitely didn't help lighten your mood.

"kid, you okay?" sam asks from your right side. you'd been silent throughout the whole run and sam knew something was up when you didn't laugh at his jokes like how you usually would. "just cramps. they're hurting a lot so i'm probably gonna skip training today." you explain and he slowed down his pace causing you to slow down too since you always had to run side by side.

"y/n/n, you should probably stop now if you're having cramps. it might make it worse—i think? i don't know, actually. i don't know how periods work but i know cramps hurt a lot so i think you should stop. yeah, you should stop." his rambling speech made you feel a bit better now knowing he wants you to take care of yourself. "you know what? yeah, i think i'm gonna go. sorry i have to leave you with the two cheaters."

he smiled at you, telling you not to worry about it. you were touched and your mood significantly brightened but before you could reply him, rhythmic footsteps echoed from a distance from behind you two and you knew what was coming.

"on your left."

before steve and bucky could just pass by peacefully like they did the past nine times, you managed to throw a punch to steve's side, effectively slowing him down when he stumbled and then completely stopped. "what gives, y/n?!" bucky then stopped too, wanting to know what was up.

"that's for this morning." you glared at him and he looked at you in confusion, holding onto his side where you punched him. though you were significantly smaller than he was—than any of them were, really—, you could definitely throw a punch. speaking of punch, you gave him another on his other side and he flinched, giving you an incredulous look, one that resembled betrayal.

"and that's for being a cheater." you narrowed your eyes at him. "oN yOuR LeFt." you mocked him, rolling your eyes before ultimately leaving the trio to walk back to the tower. they looked at your fading figure and exchanged looks with each other in confusion. "what...what just happened?"

"y/n's on her period so we gotta be careful with her." sam explained and steve being steve, his cheeks tinted slight pink as the thought slightly embarrassed him.

"period? you mean the niagra falls of blood," bucky states, taking a long sip out his water bottle. sam rolled his eyes at this but nodded anyways. "also, she doesn't want training today so unless any of you have a death wish, don't call her down for anything other than for food, got it?"

"yes, sir."

"got it."

"you do it,"

"i don't want to, you do it."

"can one of you just do it? why don't you guys want to wake y/n up?" nat stopped bucky and steve's little argument as she turned away from the stove for a bit. "you two love waking her up and carrying her down to eat. what happened?"

"womanhood happened," steve mumbled bitterly, rubbing his sides where you hit him this morning. apparently you had hit him hard enough to bruise a little. nat rolled her eyes in realisation. "period?"

"no, no, not period. satan's montly ritual inside of y/n. you should've seen her this morning, nat. it was like she was possessed!" steve exaggerates. "okay, let's not be dramatic here," bucky rolls his eyes at his best friend. steve only looked at him with fear in his eyes and bucky sighs. "fine, i'll do it. but if i don't return, tell sam he still can't have my snacks. no one can have my snacks."

nat only shakes her head before turning back to the stove to finish cooking lunch.

meanwhile, bucky was making his way up to your room. deep down he was scared to face you after your episode in the morning. "y/n/n? doll, it's lunch." he spoke when he entered your room. he melted when he saw you all snuggled up in bed, asleep, hugging your life-sized teddy bear that tony gifted you last christmas.

"doll? time to eat," he whispered, gently shaking you awake. you slowly opened your eyes to see bucky sitting on your bed, trying to wake you up from your nap. "what time is it?" you asked, rubbing your eyes, your lips jutting out subconsciously. bucky internally cooed at how adorable you looked. "it's afternoon, you skipped breakfast so nat wants you to eat lunch." he tells you.

"tell her i'm sleepy," you said, adjusting yourself back under the blanket. "y/n/n, you gotta eat. nat's gonna kill me if i go back down there without you." he shakes you again and you look up at him with you doe eyes. "then don't go back down. cuddle me, jamesie!" you pouted, giving him your best sad puppy look.

he had a brief internal battle with himself before losing and giving in, slipping next to you and hugging you, providing you warmth that even your blanket couldn't provide. bucky knew nat would have his head but how could he say no to that adorable face? and you using his real name? ultimate weakness.

soon, you were back asleep, cuddling up to him. he smiled down at you, loving how peaceful you seemed when you were sleeping. and before he knew it, he too fell asleep.

"what's taking him so long?" nat huffed and steve's jaw dropped slightly, looking at her in worry. "who's telling sam he can't have bucky's snacks?"

"don't be ridiculous, steve. go get them or i'm telling sam he can't have your snacks too." steve sighs, getting up from the barstool and making his way up to your room.

safe to say he was expecting pretty much anything but the sight of you and bucky asleep, cuddled up to each other. steve's lips jutted out and he cooed at you both. he snapped a quick picture before approaching you two, sitting on your bed beside your sleeping figure.

"y/n/n? sweetie, you need to eat." he says softly as he shook you awake. the shaking seemed to wake bucky up too and when your eyes fluttered open, steve smiled down at you. "bubba? it's lunch," he looks over at bucky in disappointment for having fallen asleep when he had a task. bucky only shrugs his shoulders as if saying 'hey man, i had no choice'.

"stevie?" you groaned out and he smiled. "come on, let's go have lunch, nat is waiting downstairs." he tries to get you to sit up but you resist. "come sleep, stevie," you pulled the same trick you did with bucky and it's no surprise the blond super-soldier fell for it too. everyone had a soft spot for you.

steve laid next to you and you're then sandwiched between two super-soldiers, already falling back asleep in just seconds.

"you know nat's gonna kill us, right buck?"

"then let her try. we can use y/n/n to get out of it. i mean, can you even recall the last time anyone said no to that adorable face?"

"sam says no to her sometimes."

"yeah but he always ends up feeling bad so,"

"okay yeah, you're right."

"that's exactly why we're stuck in this situation, right dear ol' stevie? so i say we just sleep and if nat tries to scold us, we'll technically be under y/n/n's protection because nat won't scream in our faces in front of her."

"good call. night, buck."

"night, steve."

"i can't believe i sent two super-soldier idiots to go wake up y/n on her period. i didn't think they meant it literally when they were afraid they weren't gonna come back." nat paces around the kitchen and wanda watches in amusement. it had been almost a whole hour since bucky was sent to get you and thirty minutes since steve was sent to do so too and both men hadn't returned with you for lunch.

"do you really think y/n/n is having a temper tantrum or something and those idiots are caught in the middle of it?" nat asks and wanda shook her head. "i doubt. y/n can get a little cranky but only if provoked. y/n on her period is overall a sweetheart like she always is. maybe steve was being annoying this morning. i mean, he always is annoying during morning jogs because he always has to announce when he overtakes us." wanda rolls her eyes at the fact.

"okay, you know what? come with me to get them. i mean with our joint forces, there's no way we're going to get sucked into whatever those idiots did. let's go,"

nat didn't give the younger woman a chance to reply before she's storming upstairs to your room and wanda had no choice but to rush along.

"well? are we going to wake them up or what?" wanda asks nat, not taking her eyes off the adorable sight she was met with right as she entered your room.

"i want to get mad at steve and bucky for not waking her up because she hasn't eaten yet but somehow i can't." nat states, looking like she's having an existential crisis.

"well, no lunch for these three, i guess. they better have dinner though or i'm actually going to get mad. let's go, wands." nat closes your door, but not before snapping a pic of you three cuddled up and sending it to the group chat.

nat: [attached photo]

peter: OMG SHE LOOKS SO TINY AND ADORABLE SQUISHED IN BETWEEN THOSE TWO 🥺🥺🥺

tony: IS THAT SAFE? CAN MY BABY EVEN BREATHE PROPERLY?????? NAT WHY ARE YOU JUST LETTING IT HAPPEN

wanda: stark, she's fine

thor: aw, i hope lady y/n gets all the rest she needs. she looks peaceful 🥰

clint: wait no fair i wanna cuddle her too 🥺😭

sam: dang it does this mean i still can't have bucky's snacks

bucky: stay away from my snacks.

"look who finally decided to show." you hear tony tease when you finally came down to dinner.

after waking up an hour prior, you woke up the two super-soldiers sandwiching you by pushing them off your bed. they couldn't even be mad at you when you had burst out in contagious laughter at your own stunt, before leaving to let you wash up.

"how are you feeling, sweetie?" bruce asks you as you sat in between him and tony on the dining table. "i'm good, bruce, why do you ask?"

"we've been hearin' a lot about you today, cupcake." tony winks at you before continuing to eat his food. you pout at him. "bad things?"

"no, no, no, not bad things, never bad things. you're the sweetest little cupcake and everyone loves you. now eat your food," tony pretends to make an angry face at you and you listen to him, smiling as you do so.

after dinner, you decided to lounge in the common room for a bit to watch tv and thor, clint, wanda and sam decide to join you.

"what are we watching?" sam asks as he plops down next to you on the couch. "i don't know, i'm kinda in the mood to watch my little pony." you quipped happily. "my little pony? that stupid ponies cartoon where the purple unicorn has magic and becomes a princess?"

"it's not stupid," you muttered under your breath, suddenly getting upset that he thought my little pony was stupid. "if you guys don't want to watch, i guess we can watch whatever you want." you told the rest who were already seated, a sad expression on your face.

"bubs! of course we want to watch it! right, sam?" wanda glares at sam as she asked him through gritted teeth. "y–yes! yes, we'll watch my little pony!" he replies quickly. "okay!" you cheer, leaning back against the couch as you turned the show on.

after an episode was done, you seemed to have gotten the others hooked on it because they asked for another episode. well, except for sam because he decided one episode was enough and it was time to sleep so he left.

"okay," you giggled, happy that they liked the show. "but i'm going to go get my snacks first." you walked to the kitchen to quickly get your bag of pretzels from the pantry. you were pretty sure it was the period moodswings that were causing your emotions to be all over the place because you cried. you cried because you were so excited to go get your snacks, only to find that it had been stolen.

you trudged back into the living room with a tear-stained face and wanda immediately stands up. "bubs, what's wrong?" she held both your shoulders as she looked down at you. you hiccup. "i–i think pete took my pretzel sticks." you pouted to try keep the incoming tears at bay but they managed to drop anyways.

"i'll kill him," clint stands up, hands held out in a fighting stance. "how dare he steal y/n/n's snacks." wanda rolls her eyes at his antics and gives him a look that tells him to back down.

"lady y/n," thor calls from his spot on the couch. you turn to him. "i have a stash of poptarts if you want?" he offered and as kind as his intentions were, you only wanted your pretzel sticks. you dropped down to the floor, staring silently into nothing.

"y/n," clint places a hand on your shoulder, trying to get you to get up but you didn't. you looked up at him with a small pout and glossy eyes and he cracked. "alright, thor, come with me to the grocery store. we're getting y/n/n's snacks,"

thor immediately gets up, following clint out the door. you couldn't believe that the avengers' own archer and god of thunder were willing to go out just to buy you snacks.

twenty minutes later, they came back with bags of different snacks but most importantly, your pretzel sticks. you ran to them, giving them the biggest hug you could give, prompting chuckles and hair ruffles from them. "anything for you, kiddo."

despite having just gotten your snack, you fell asleep ten minutes into the next episode and thor goes to carry you back to your room. he sets you down gently on your bed, pulling your blanket up so that you were warm.

"sleep well, lady y/n." he kisses the side of your head before leaving. and sleep well you did because you had an awesome family take care of you.

taglist <3

@amourtentiaa

#avengers x teen!reader #avengers x reader #avengers fluff #bucky barnes x teen!reader #steve rogers x teen!reader #tony stark x teen!reader #natasha romanoff x teen!reader #wanda maximoff x teen!reader #thor odinson x teen!reader #clint barton x teen!reader #sam wilson x teen!reader #bruce banner x teen!reader #marvel x teen!reader

2K notes · View notes

dr3amofagame · 3 years

Note

Dream tried to stop Wil from creating L'Manburg, Phil tried to stop him from blowing it up, BOTH value people over items and builds, Phil has said that they're replaceable but people aren't, Dream traded spirit for his best friends fishes (we kno he's not someone to talk abt feelings:[) BOTH were kind and selfless but used by almost if not everyone, BOTH were ready to be THE VILLAINS if it meant everyone else could live better after. ONE of them always had someone there, ONE didn't. Intentional?

aaaa sorry for the really inconsistent posts ,, im gonna try to post a little more in the next few days. i have a few things written up, so look out for them? maybe? for now, have this *gestures vaguely* thing ,, it’s kinda a mess but *shrug*

phil is such a fun character, anon, especially for all the reasons that you mentioned in the ask!! he’s a really fun character with a lot of complexities that go (sadly) overlooked by a large portion of the fandom, but he’s super cool even tho i havent analyzed him too much. hope you enjoy (and i hope my interpretation of c!phil isnt too ooc lmao)

tw: mentioned blood, injury, implied torture/abuse, starvation, trauma, mentioned death, prison arc/pandora’s vault

When Techno first brings Dream back from the prison, Phil doesn’t quite know what to think.

“I don’t trust him either,” Techno assures him, but there’s a flickering anger in the backs of his eyes, one that had emerged ever since he came back from the prison with the other man in his arms, and Phil knows his friend well enough to know that the words are empty in the face of the piglin hybrid’s particular brand of to-the-death loyalty. He shakes his head in reply, refusing to voice his thoughts for Techno’s sake, at least, but the look that the other slants at him suggests that he’s caught onto them all the same.

At first, the work is thankfully mindless; even if Phil has reservations on the man that Techno has more or less dumped into his house, he would hardly wish the clear suffering he’s been through on anyone. The first few days pass in a flurry of brewing potions, wrapping and rewrapping dressings, stitching up cuts and setting broken bones straight. The damage is extensive; Phil has to take more than a few breaks to just leave the house and breathe - he’s far from a stranger to blood and carnage, had received the title of ‘Angel of Death’ for a reason, but even he had never been particularly familiar with this form of cruelty. Torture was a level of violence that extended beyond what even he was willing to bestow - his hands may have caused many deaths, and the weight of each one would continue to haunt him for the rest of his life, but even those had the mercy of being a quick end. The wounds and scars that ripple over Dream’s skin, thin and stretched tightly over his bones with little muscle and fat left to cushion them, speak of horrors that were anything but merciful.

“I didn’t know they were capable of all of this,” Techno says, once, as they huddle of Dream, wringing towels in cold water to wipe his feverish skin. Techno’s hand reaches for the ribboning gold-filled scars that remain from the execution - carefully, Phil raises his hand to let his fingertips brush over them as well. “I mean, I knew he was dangerous and all, but-”

“I know, mate,” Phil looks back at Dream’s face, tight even in unconsciousness, at the darkened, hand-shaped bruises that remain around his throat, at the scar that runs over his left eye, clearly meant to mirror the same one that makes its way down the duck hybrid’s own face. “You said that Quackity and Sam were working together?”

“Yeah,” Techno’s expression darkens, eyes focused somewhere on the wall, seemingly very far away. He said that nothing happened to him in the prison, and he seemed relatively unharmed when Phil activated the stasis chamber, but ever since he came back, sometimes he’ll have moments, and Phil can’t help but - wonder. “Quackity does the dirty work, Sam gives him the way in and out, probably also the tools to do it. It’s-” he huffs a short, self-recriminating laugh. “It’s bad, Phil.”

“Mate-”

Techno shoots him a look, and Phil cringes, knowing already that he’d used the wrong tone. Even with the execution, Techno had been adamant to hide all traces of his own terror and fear away from him, masking it all with fury for Phil’s own sake. He knows, just from the way his old friend looks at the ribboning scars that remain sometimes, that he is far from as over the whole ordeal as he acts, but Techno never wants to talk and Phil never knows the right time to ask and they smooth it all behind plans and explosions and hope that the TNT can blow apart the trauma, too. He’s got a sneaking suspicion that the same thing is going to happen, here.

“As soon as we can,” Techno starts again, pointedly shifting his eyes away from Phil’s face, “we’re calling a Syndicate meeting to figure out what we’re going to do about the prison. Like- come on, man, you couldn’t make a more transparent abuse of institutional power if you tried, really-” he looks over, uncharacteristic uncertainty warring over his features. “If you think that’s good, I mean-“

“Of course, mate.” Phil’s voice softens. “Whenever you’re ready.”

‘Whenever he’s ready,’ as it turns out, is easier said than done, becoming even more evident when their charge wakes up from his days long spell of unconsciousness. The worst of his injuries have, under their careful care and the benefit of many potions, healed enough to no longer directly threaten his life, but the vast majority have quite some time to go before being healed completely. Being as the goal was torture and not death, most of his injuries weren’t made to be life-threatening, but rather to cause as much pain as possible - from the grimace that twists Dream’s face when he struggles to force himself awake, they’re doing their jobs.

“Hey, mate, slow down,” Phil murmurs, pressing the man down by his shoulder when Dream weakly tries to push himself up and off the bed, and his struggling only lasts for a few more minutes before he gives up and slumps against his pillow, eyes cracking open and seeming surprisingly lucid.

“Where-“ his voice is wrecked, and Phil reaches for the glass of water at the bedside as Dream coughs. “Where am I?”

“You’re at Techno’s house,” Dream’s eyes widen and then slip closed as he processes the information, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows as they knit together. “We broke you out, after Techno escaped with a stasis chamber with your book. Do you remember?”

Dream gnaws on his bottom lip. “Um- yeah. I think.” His head turns as his eyes crack open again- “Techno-“

“He’s out, right now. He’ll be back in a bit.”

“Oh.” Dream falls back into the bed, strength seemingly sapped from the short conversation. His breathing stutters, then steadies. “Okay.”

Recovery is slow. Phil doesn’t actually find himself seeing the man very often; now that he doesn’t need around-the-clock care anymore, he’s moved back into his own house, letting Techno do most of the work when it comes to rehabilitating the escaped convict crashing at his house. As he begins to spend more of his time awake and aware, he brings a whole slew of new problems; Phil catches him screaming one day, blurting harsh, angry words as Techno reads, unbothered from the other side of the room, and he stops in his tracks standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Um-“ he winces when Dream curses, smashes something against the floor, and then curls into himself at the sound. Techno doesn’t even flinch. “Am I interrupting something?”

Dream stomps away, face flushed, arms wrapped around himself. Techno raises an eyebrow.

“You lookin’ for something, Phil?” he asks, and the unpleasant knot in Phil’s chest refuses to unwind.

The episodes, unfortunately, don’t seem to get much better. Though he’s rarely outright violent, Dream looks constantly murderous, usually muttering underneath his breath about something or another while he stalks the grounds of Techno’s house. It’s not too long before Techno sends him out to work around the house instead of just moping within the cottage, which also means that Phil sees him a lot more - tending to a small farm behind the house, feeding the dogs, hacking away at mobs, and usually complaining the entire time. It’s unnerving, even as injured and unarmored as the man is, to see him walking around like this; despite his rather pathetic appearance, swamped in sweaters that dwarf him thoroughly and thin enough to look like the slightest breeze will knock him over, his eyes are flinty and intelligent and bubble with promises of revenge.

“FUCK!” Phil turns to see him slamming a shovel into the snow, stomping away into the woods, and his hands tighten around his cup of tea. Next to him, Techno shrugs.

“Nerd’s got a few issues,” he drawls, and Phil laughs shortly.

“That seems like an understatement.”

“He’ll ease up in time,” Techno sounds surprisingly confident, completely content despite the muffled curses that come from the woods next to them. He’s probably used to it, with Chat and all, but Phil can’t quite seem to find the same calm.

“I just don’t know, mate,” Phil shakes his head. “You sure having him around is the best idea? He doesn’t seem...stable.”

Techno looks up at him over the rim of his cup of coffee. His head tilts, considering, but there’s a small smile on his face that tells Phil that Techno, inexplicably, doesn’t share the same sentiments. There was always a part of him that was, for the lack of a better word, softer than the rest of the server for his self-proclaimed rival, a sort of understanding that Phil could hardly hope (nor would really want to) understand.

“Don’t worry, Phil, if he tries anything I can always just tie him up in the attic or something,” Phil huffs a small laugh, amused, and nods to concede the point. “And- well, call it intuition. You could really try talkin’ to him, you know. He reminds me of you, sometimes.”

The words stick in his head despite his best efforts, rattling in his skull when he tries to sleep, lingering when he catches glimpses of the green-clothed man stalking around their properties. He can’t imagine what would’ve prompted his old friend to make the comparison, can’t think of a single thing (besides their affinity for the color green) that would mark him as similar to the - from what he’s heard - deranged menace with a particular penchant for destruction (not that his rants and fits of anger are doing anything to correct that impression). Even so, Techno had sounded so sure when he’d made the comparison, the words offhand like he’d thought them a million times before, like it was a simple observation that held no more weight than commenting on the color of the sky. Phil watches as Dream lugs a pile of logs behind him, huffing at one of Techno’s dogs that comes to chase and nip at his feet and grumbling loudly before faceplanting into the snow. He just...can’t see it.

Days later, Wilbur comes to visit, a grin on his lips as he dramatically recounts his newest exploit: a nation by Las Nevadas, a supposed safe haven away from the glitter and glory of Quackity’s city; it sounds brilliant, it sounds lovely, and more than anything it sounds stupid, and Phil tells him as such immediately.

“You’re being reckless,” he rants at his son, wings flaring outwards and only barely noticing Dream watching from the corner of his eye, “What are you doing- picking fights with Quackity? Starting another nation- didn’t you see what happened to the first two you made? You’re going to get yourself killed, Wil!”

“Well, I’ve already seen what’s on the other side of death, and it’s really not that bad-“

“You’re my son!” The words are angrier than Phil would’ve liked, and he knows that he looks ridiculous and overbearing, criticizing the actions of his fully grown son, but all he can see is Wilbur’s face, slack with pain and grief, stained with ash and soot as his eyes flutter to half-mast in the midst of the rubble of a country he loved and destroyed and destroyed him in turn. “I can’t lose you again, Wil!”

Wilbur doesn’t quite storm out, but it’s a near thing, leaving with a clipped goodbye and leaving Phil seething on his doorstep. He spends the rest of the night pacing around the house in a sort of mad frenzy, wings stretching and folding over and over. Not for the first time, he longs for the sky, to feel the air through his wings and let the world fall into pinpricks below him; it’s this that leads him to the roof of his house, staring stubbornly at the clouds as the sun sinks down to the horizon.

“Hey.”

Phil startles; there, down below him, is Dream. He rocks back on his heels, seeming awkward, before clambering up the wall (Phil rolls his eyes at the ease with which he scales it, the feeling in his chest almost fond) and settling himself on the shingles at Phil’s side.

“Hey, mate,” Phil shakes his head. The fondness leaves, and the irritation that had risen at Wilbur’s words, earlier, comes back full-force. “Sorry- Wil came to visit, we talked. I just needed some time to think.”

Dream hums in acknowledgement, and they fall into a comfortable silence, watching as the sun dipping down past the mountains in the distance.

“You know,” Dream starts, sudden, “I told him the same thing.” He looks up at Phil, eyes faraway with old memories. “Wilbur, I mean. When he made L’manburg- I told him he was being reckless.” He shrugs. “I guess he never listened.”

Phil pauses, Techno’s words ringing in his ears. He reminds me of you, sometimes.

Dream looks surprisingly normal up close - face no longer reddened with fever or pale from blood loss, even the scars fail to really take from the boyishness of his face. He bites his lips, eyes falling away at Phil’s scrutiny, golden blond hair flopping over his forehead, newly trimmed to be something a little closer to his old length, at least in the front, the back pulled into a small ponytail. He’s young, and shockingly awkward, teeth worrying his lip, hands fiddling with each other, shifting his weight from one foot to the other several times a minute. He looks like a kid.

“He never does,” Phil lets himself smile, watches as Dream smiles back, almost like they’re sharing a joke. He wonders how well he really knows the man behind the mask. “Want to come in for some tea?”

Dream smiles wider, and something old and worn in Phils chest, knocked loose ever since he felt his son fall limp in his arms with his own sword shoved between his ribs, falls back into place.

“That would be great,” Dream replies, the words almost hopeful, and they go inside.

#tw trauma #tw death #tw blood #tw injury #tw torture #tw abuse #tw starvation #prison arc #pandora's vault #-> my writing #my writing :D #my asks !!#-> my asks

265 notes · View notes

ambivalent-anarchy · 4 years

Text

Star Wars 101 (Ch. 2) Episode IV - A New Hope

Masterlist

Gender: Female

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Wow, I didn't realize how much I'd written until I hit the tumblr limit. Hope you like it! Comment your thoughts!

Chapter Summary: Steve just wants to do his job, the avengers are the best wingmen, Scott doesn't like porn, and [y/n] thinks all nerds are freaky

~~~

sci-fi boi: okay which cartoon rivalry was better?? Popeye the sailor man and Bluto or Tom and Jerry?

crackhead [y/n]: dude.

crackhead [y/n]: how is that even a question??? Obviously Tom and Jerry lol

sci-fi boi: explanation pls

crackhead [y/n]: popeye and bluto were always fighting over that girl olive and some other stupid crap but with my two furry buddies it was no talk pete no discussions just murder attempts ON SIGHT. Tell me they don't go harder than any other rivalry

sci-fi boi: haha truuuu

~~~

"Are we boring you, Queens?"

Peter's head snapped up quickly, discreetly turning his phone off underneath the meeting table. "Um-huh? No no no, Mr. Rogers I'm listening. Sorry."

Steve shook his head and continued to speak as he pointed to the pictures on the screen at the end of the room. All of the Avengers of Earth were there, some half asleep, while the others either joked or listened intently.

In two short days, they were going to be taking back powerful tech that Martin Li(aka: Mr. Negative)'s "demons" had stolen from Stark Industries. A simple "get in and get out".

They'd known this plan for some days now, yet Steve insisted on calling meetings to go over it again and again.

Feeling a quick vibration go off in his hand, Peter instinctively looked back down at his phone to see a snapchat text notification from you.

~~~

crackhead [y/n]: According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible🐝...

~~~

Peter shook his head slightly as he chuckled, a smile shamelessly creeping onto his face.

~~~

sci-fi boi: did you really just quote the bee movie at me???😂😂

~~~

"Hey spidey-boy, would you mind sharing to the class what's so hilarious?" Rhodey's voice rang out loud and clear from across the table.

Quick as lightning, Peter turned his phone off and buried it in between his thighs, realizing that he hadn't been as quiet as he'd thought. To his luck, everyone’s eyes were trained on him now.

“It's n-nothing!” Peter squeaked, his voice breaking embarassingly. He shoved his phone into his pocket in fear of someone snatching it from him.

Natasha rolled her eyes and smirked. "So what're you looking at down there?"

"I-i, uh, I was just um, w-watching a funny- very funny video actually-"

"C'mon guys!," Sam laughed, clapping his hands together. "Don't tease the kid. We all know what he was smiling at down there!"

At that, Peter practically choked. "WHAT?!"

Tony snickered. "Personally, I don't think two inches is something to be proud of, but alright."

Peter's eyes widen, nearly falling out of his skull by the looks of it. "I-it's not two inches a-and I wasn't looking at-!"

"Jesus christ, guys..." Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He was obviously just doing something on his phone. Leave the poor guy alone."

Peter coughed as he saw Steve glare at him with that infamous 'Im Captain America and Im judging you' glare. Phones weren't allowed in the meeting room. Well, they weren't supposed to be. No one ever really followed that rule except Peter. But he'd already been so deep in his conversation with you that he just couldn't put his phone down. "No no, um, I wasn't.. I was just zoning out, y'know, and I just happened to be looking-"

"-at your phone?," Steve cut in to ask.

"-at your dick," Rhodey stated at the same time.

"-at porn," Tony said with an all-knowing smile, causing everyone at the table to turn towards either him or Peter, whose face was beet red with embarrassment.

"Peter please tell us you weren't watching porn," Scott begged, his jaw completely dropped. "I mean, no judgment but-"

"Full judgement, actually," Clint corrected, an extremely disturbed look on his face. "Seriously, what were you doing, kid? You gotta tell us now with all these assumptions being thrown around."

"Curious," Thor stated, leaning back in his chair. "What is porn?"

"Something that I definitely WAS NOT watching!," Peter responded as he practically slammed his face into the table and slapped his hands over his eyes. "Does it even matter what I was doing anyway?," he mumbled into the table.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, blowing the smoke off of her coffee. "People usually aren't this defensive when they're telling the truth, Peter."

Peter shrunk into his seat with a loud groan. Can I die. Can I please just die. Like why am I seriously even alive right now??? Some bad guy please just burst through the door and maim me please.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y. pull up Parker's phone," Tony commanded once the commotion in the room died down.

Peter quickly lifted his head. "Wait, what?!"

"Accessing Peter Parker's mobile device, sir," F.R.I.D.A.Y. responded. "Would you like for me to transfer the screen to the meeting board?"

Tony looked back with a laugh to see a frozen, slack-jawed Peter. He turned back around. "Yeah sure, F.R.I.D.A.Y., what the heck let's have fun."

"No wait- are you seriously hacking into my phone right now?!"

"Well why're you so tense, Parker?," Sam asked teasingly. "Thought you had nothing to hide?"

"I-i don't!," he stammered. "I-it's just..." he trailed off, looking for the right words to say. "..that's my private property," he said lamely while staring at the wall.

Tony stared back at him. "Well that's the dumbest excuse I've ever heard." He pointed towards the board. "Alright it's coming up."

Scott closed his eyes. "Oh God, please don't be porn.."

Peter rolled his eyes. Everyone else looked to the large board, fully expecting to see either porn or just some stupid game the boy had been playing.

But none of them expected him to be texting a girl.

~~~

crackhead [y/n]: hey u still there?

~~~

"Who's crackhead [Y/N]?," Natasha asked.

Scott turned to Rhodes who was sitting on the side of him. "Is that some trashy porn star?," he whispered.

"Why're you asking me like I know?"

"It's this girl from school.." Peter answered, blushing profusely.

"And you like her," Natasha noted, watching his body language intently.

The boy's eyes widened. "N-no I don't!"

"Why crackhead though?," Rhodey asked, crinkling his nose.

Peter shrugged. "That's what she wanted her name to be," here responded. "Thought it was funny."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Just like you thought 'sci-fi boi' was funny?" Shaking his head, he changed focused. "Guys, are we gonna get back to work or not?"

"Not," Tony answered as he scrolled up all the way to the beginning of the messages from early that morning. "So, you've been texting this girl today off and on since..." He checked the time. "Five in the morning?"

Clint chuckled. "Oh yeah, huge crush."

“No!” Peter protested, his voice an octave too high. Realizing that it isn’t working, he decided to try a different technique. Clearing his throat, he tried to sound and act as nonchalant as possible. “She’s just a friend from school.”

"She's first on your best friends list, even over that computer kid you practically live with. And you and her practically snap each other nonstop."

Peter scratched his nose. "W-well that's only cuz Ned doesn't like to text much."

Bruce took his glasses off and sighed, realizing there was no way this meeting was getting back on topic. "Look Pete," he said. "Friends don't do that. I've seen it all before. If you and this girl are talking on a daily basis all throughout the day starting at five in the morning?" He titled his head in a suggestive way, though Peter stared back at him blankly.

"What?," Peter asked.

"Oh my God, kid," Bruce sighed.

Tony held his head back and laughed. "It means either she likes you and your just too dense, you like her but won't admit it and she's just concerningly nice, or you both like each other and just won't make your moves!"

Sam, who hadn't lifted his eyes from the board the entire time, spoke up. "And judging by these texts, you already got her, it's just not official yet."

Tony kept scrolling. "You two went to winter formal together?"

"Yeah... but as friends," Peter said with a shrug.

Steve cleared his throat loudly, gaining the attention of everyone in the room at once. He looked at Peter who was doing everything here could not to look him in the eye. "Look, as much as I would love to talk about Peter's sad love life, we have a mission-"

"-that will still be there tomorrow, Cap," Bucky finished for him. "C'mon we've been going over this stuff for hours. Let us have this distraction."

Everyone looked to him, Tony feigning a puppy dog expression. Crossing his arms, he left the room. "Fine, but when someone gets hurt because they didn't know where they were supposed to go, don't blame me."

"...literally no one's ever blaming you, man," Sam said.

Suddenly, the screen lit up and F.R.I.D.A.Y. spoke. "Sir, Peter Parker has a new message."

Everyone looked to the board. "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh. Scroll down, Mr. Stark. Scroll down!," Peter yelled frantically. "What's she saying?"

Natasha smirked. "And you're sure you don't like her, Peter?"

His face flushed. "Okay fine...I might have a tiny crush-"

"I'm sorry I can't hear you," Tony cut in. "Can you say that agai-"

"-I SAID YEAH I REALLY LIKE THIS GIRL!," Peter finally yelled with his eyes squeezed shut. He kept them closed for about twenty seconds afterwards, afraid of the judging faces he would see if he opened them.

He carefully opened his eyes to see all of the avengers (minus Cap) staring back at him with stupid smiles and smirks on their faces.

"Well, that's all I needed to hear," Tony said. He clapped his hands together. "Okay everybody, first order of business, checking the text. Sam, you're our reader."

"Got it."

"What?," Peter yelled, reaching for his phone. Tony dodged him and gave it to Sam. "Mr. Stark, I can text a girl on my own. I don't need help."

"Nat, you're our timer. Make sure none of the responses take longer than a minute. We don't want the girl to get bored and go on to something else."

"Check."

"Mr. Stark, c'mon-"

"Sam, you explain stuff to lightning head over here if he doesn't understand it. This could be learning moment for ole Shakespeare. Thor, you listen to Sam."

"Right."

"On it."

"Everyone else, you're with me. We gotta find the perfect thing to say to this girl. I've got a feeling this is probably the only chance he's gonna have to get a girl in a long time."

Rhodes, Scott, Clint, Bruce, and Wanda looked to each other and nodded.

"And Pete?"

Peter raised his head. "Yes sir?"

"You know this girl more than anybody here does, so you tell us if what we say is appropriate for her or not."

Peter rolled his eyes and nodded. After all, what's the worst that can happen?

Tony pointed to Sam. "Okay, read it."

~~~

crackhead [y/n]: u going to flash's party on saturday??

~~~

"She wants to know if the kid's going to some party Saturday."

Tony turned to the boy. "You're going," her demanded.

Flash was the most popular douchebag in school. Totally rich and totally rude and totally determined to use his every breath to spite Peter. "I wasn't even invited," Peter mumbled, shooting a glare towards Sam when he heard him laughing.

"Well get invited," Tony ordered. "A party is the perfect place to make a move. Send yes."

~~~

sci-fi boi: yes

~~~

"Mr. Stark, how am I supposed to get into this party? Flash hates me! And if I crash it and Flash sees me, he's gonna make sure everyone thinks I'm a loser!"

Tony rolled his eyes and sighed. "Peter we're trying to help you here. Figure that part out on your own."

Peter sighed, leaning forward in his chair. The last thing he wanted was another assignment, even if it wasn't actually an assignment. On the plus side, he'd get to see you, and maybe have some fun if he actually tried to enjoy himself.

~~~

crackhead [y/n]: cool so i guess ill go too

~~~

Rhodey chuckled while shaking his head. "Kid, if you don't ask this chick out the second you see her again, I'm gonna bodyslam you."

Peter frowned. "What do you mean?"

Bruce smiled. "Whether or not she went to the party was depending on if you were going," he pointed out.

"This girl used to be like that with me back in college," Scott said with a shrug. "Thought she liked me. Turned out she just had social anxiety..."

"Yeah you're really not helping this, bugman," Tony said.

"Wait, you guys think [Y/N] actually likes me back?," Peter asked, getting groans and laughs in return.

"Where have you been the last few minutes?," Natasha said.

"We've literally been saying that this entire time," Sam deadpanned.

Peter stared at his feet below the table. If the team was right, and you did actually like him back, then the movie marathon he was planning was the perfect excuse to hang out with you. "I-i think I might have a plan!," he rushed out, his head flying up. He pointed to Sam. "Ask her if she's free tonight!"

"Yes!," Thor yelled, his fists pumped into the air. "The spider child has grown his man balls!"

"Now that's what I'm talking about." Sam nodded approvingly as he texted.

~~~

sci-fi: r u free tonight??😉

~~~

"Wait hold on," Peter said, suddenly rushing towards the phone in a frantic manner. "Why is there a winking emoji?! I didn't say anything about a winking emoji!"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were flirti-"

Peter groaned. "Delete it, man. Delete it before her bitmoji pops up!"

"Okay okay, dang kid," Sam chuckled, quickly deleting the text and replacing it with one without a winking emoji. "There. And ya girl didn't even see it."

"Hey guys," Scott said. "I know we're all freaking out and stuff. But honestly, I'm just glad he wasn't watching porn." He shrugged. "So no matter what happens with this girl, today's still an absolute win."

It went on like this for a solid thirty minutes.

~~~

crackhead [y/n]: yeah wassup

sci-fi boi: wanna come over and watch movies?

crackhead [y/n]: sure what're we watching

sci-fi boi: we can decide that when u get here. how about 4??

crackhead [y/n]: alright sure

~~~

"Okay, last thing," Tony said. "We need a sly compliment. Something not that special about her, but enough to show her that you're tuned in. Gets them every time, trust me."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Wow, lady-killer."

Tony pointed towards her and shrugged. "She said it, not me."

Thor looked to Peter. "So, young spider. What have you observed about your darling love?"

Peter blushed, almost wanting to comment on the Thor's word choice but ultimately deciding not to. "Well, um, her eyes light up a lot when she gets excited and it's really dorky in a cute kind of way I guess," he mumbled, scratching his head.

"Alright I got it," Sam said, typing the words in. He lifted his shoulders into a shrug. "Who knows, kid? There be some hope for you."

~~~

sci-fi boi: btw how do you get ur eyes to sparkle so bright when u get happy about stuff? Just thinking about it lol its cute

~~~

Peter blew out a shaky breath as he looked back over the set-up he'd made in the living room.

He'd cleared out space to build a super huge homemade blanket fort and inside it at the end was his tv. Towards the middle were all of pillows he could find inside the house and at the other end were snacks. All around the inside were fairy lights because he knew you liked them, though personally he found them cliche.

He spent about an hour on the whole set and an additional thirty minutes stressing over and making sure everything was safe (with all three fairy lights and tv cords). The last thing he needed was for the both of you to catch on fire while watching the movie.

The two of you were going to be watching Star Wars: Episode IV - A New Hope (or as normal 'not-nerds' like to call it, "the first one"). Of course, he hadn't told the team that. If they'd known what movie he'd planned on showing her, high chances are they wouldn't have even let him out of Avengers tower. But if Peter was gonna be forced to hang out with someone (not that he was really complaining), he would at least pick the film.

Finally checking all the boxes in his head for the night, Peter went to go check the DVD before he heard your knock at the door.

"Coming!," he yelled, quickly chucking the disc into the DVD player. He ran to the door and opened it with an awkward smile. "Uh, hey [Y/N]."

"Hey," you said back, already sort of blushing. "How's it going?"

Peter stared. Are your eyebrows done or are they just naturally that nice? He found his voice after abruptly noticing that he was staring. "Uh-well. It's been going great! How's it going for y-you also as well?" He frowned. "I-i mean, what's been going on with your life lately? No, that's dumb. I meant-"

"Peter, Peter! Calm down, dude," you giggled. "I've been fine."

"Oh," he chuckled. "That's good... d-do you wanna come in?"

"Question. What're we watching, Peter?," you asked, a smile playing on your face. Considering what you remembered from the last time you were at his house, and the fort you could get a peek of from the doorframe, you figured it was special for the nerdy boy. Plus his shirt had Yoda on it.

Freakin' Star Wars.

Immediately, a wide grin spread across his face. "Remember what you promised me we'd watch?"

You rolled your eyes, stepping past him into his living room. "Yeah yeah, whatever. Time to get nerdy I guess."

"Come on, you'll love it,"Peter said, quickly closing the door behind them and then briskly running towards the fort to hold up the side blankets for you. "So, snacks and drinks are beside us. We'll chill on these blankets here. And...um, yeah. That's about it." After stepping outside for a bit to go turn off the lights(for the full "movie theater" experience), Peter laid down on his belly, reaching for the DVD player to press play.

You watched as he fumbled with the wires, making sure the DVD player was plugged in before turning it on. Has your jawline always been that sharp?

You couldn't quite place it, but his texts from before seemed.. weird. But not a bad weird at all. A good, intriguing weird.

And that compliment was pretty nice, but odd for Peter. Sure, he complimented you often, but it just felt different this time. Usually it'd be something like, "new dress?" or "nice shoes". But never "you're eyes sparkle when you get excited." Heck, you didn't even know that about you. Was he paying attention? Did that mean he-

You remember how he acted about Liz Allen and Michelle Jones. Always staring. Never able to even say a full sentence in front of them without stuttering up a storm.

But he was so comfortable about you for the most part. You were just a friend.

"Okay got it," Peter said, laughing excitedly as the screen in front of him lit up. He scooted back to where you were sat. "Prepare to have your mind blown."

The Fort quickly became dark as the Lucasfilm logo shined on the screen.

"I seriously dou-"

"Shhh!," he cut you off. "Wait for it..."

You gave him a look but joined him in his silence to see what he was waiting for.

BUMMMMM buh buh bummmm

Practically jumping on top of him, you flinched at the loud and sudden music. "Crap dude! Turn it down!"

Peter shook his head, reaching for a soda. "You have to get the full effect, [Y/N]!," he laughed. "Just embrace it." He began to sing with the music and mime crazy gestures as if he were directing an orchestra.

Duh duh duh DUH DUHHHHHHHH

Halfway through he stopped and recited the opening crawl, his eyes glued to the screen with a sort of focus that made you sure that not only was this not foreign to him, he probably did this every other week.

"It is a period of civil war," he mumbled, throwing some popcorn into his mouth. "Rebel spaceships, striking from a hidden base, have won their first victory against the evil Galactic- [Y/N] you have to watch the words, I swear it'll make the whole experience better." It went on for a little while longer until he paused the movie and looked over at you, cowering a bit. "D-do I have something on my face?"

"Huh? Nah you're good," you said, realizing he'd noticed you staring. "It's just-" you remembered his text from earlier. "-you got really excited... It-um..it was cute."

Because of the darkness(the only lighting being from the tv), you couldn't see if Peter blushed or not, but you could clearly see the stupid grin plastered on his face that he was trying to hide from you with his hand. Repeatedly licking his lips as a desperate attempt to stop smiling as he pressed play on the remote control. "A-ah, um, thanks [Y/N]."

The opening crawl was over and soon the movie actually began, showing a huge spaceship.

"That's the imperial star destroyer," Peter whispered, never taking his eyes off the screen. "They belong to the empire." He saw your blank expression, wide eyes as he realized that meant nothing to you. "Uh, the bad guys."

You squinted your eyes at the screen, silently judging the graphics of the energy blasts- space bullets?- or whatever they were supposed to be. "Pete, when was this movie made?"

"1977."

"Oh okay," you said, deciding to give it some leeway for the trash designs.

You scooted a little closer to your friend, figuring you'd get a little bit more comfortable.

Oh how he wished you hadn't done that.

Nothing like actual, physical contact with a girl that you like and you think she might like you back to actually manage to distract you from one of your favorite movies ever.

He froze, not wanting to pull away and offend you, but definitely not wanting to stay because just being this close to you was making his mind run wild.

Does she actually like me back? What if Mr. Stark and the team only said that to get me to make a fool of myself? She's too comfortable with me. She just sees me as a friend. Or maybe she likes me and she's just really chill about it? Ooh my gosh and she's leaning on me right now. What am I 'sposed to do?? I don't know I don't know I don't know!!!!!!!!!

Deciding for a quick compromise, he got up completely to reach for another soda, though his sprite was still half finished. When he sat back down, he wasn't as close. Hopefully, you'd just see it as natural human behaviour and not him wanting to be away from you.

Course you would see it that way, wouldn't you?

"Oh my gosh I recognize someone! That's R2D2, right?!" You pointed wildly, glad to not be completely clueless for once with this nerd crap.

"Yeah that's R2," Peter responded, letting out a secret sigh of relief, thankful for the distraction.

"A-and that's that gold dude!"

"Yeah, C-3PO."

"And oh crap that's Princess Leia!," you shouted. "Fucking feminist icon!"

Peter tilted his head. "Wait, how would you know that if you've never watched this?"

You laughed. "I still have access to the internet, doofus! Scroll down the nerdy feminist side of tumblr and Leia is literally everywhere."

Peter chuckled as he finally finished his sprite. "Okay. Valid."

Since that, you stopped talking for a bit. Part of you actually did figure that since you're here, you might as well actually try to enjoy the movie and maybe find out what the fans actually see in it that makes them like it so much. The other part just really didn't want to annoy Peter while he was watching his favorite movie series.

But sometimes you just have to say something.

"Hold up, wait. Isn't that his sister? Oh my God, Pete I swear somebody told me before that Leia was Luke's twin!"

Peter shrugged while nodding. "Well, that's a bit of a spoiler, but yeah. What about it?"

"Oh my gosh, Pete- what about it?! Dude, he's literally making 'fuck me' eyes at his own sister! He's all like, 'ooh you're so sexy I'm gonna bone you all over the galaxy'. That's freaky!"

You grabbed the remote and began to rewind it.

"C'mon now [Y/N]," he explained. "He didn't call her sexy. He said she was beautiful. Sexy is wayyy different from beautiful. You can think your family members are beautiful can't you?"

You paused it once you got to where you wanted.

"Okay Parker, look at that. Look at that and tell me Lukes's not totally undressing her with his eyes!" You pointed at Peter's face with a goofy smile on yours. "Oh wow, I've finally figured you people out now."

Peter's head cocked to the side. "Figured out what?"

"Star Wars nerds are a bunch of horny kids that like that step-sibling porn stuff but can't watch that in front of their parents so they have to use an alternative!"

Peter fell on his back with laughter, practically rolling around like a pig. "[Y/N], what?!"

You gave him an incredulous look. "Who else likes to see two siblings bang each other, Peter?!"

At that he pointed back at you while picking up his other soda. "To be fair, they never do that with each other. They only kiss, like twice and that's it. And one of them is only to make Han Solo mad."

"Oh yeah, I forgot about the Han Solo guy. Where is he anyway?"

Peter smiled. "Well, we're only twenty mintues in. He'll come soon."

To tell the truth, Peter really didn't even know what part you were at. His eyes were watching the screen but nothing was being comprehended. The only thing he could manage to think about was all the tiny things that were going on over on your side of the fort. Did you notice him staring? Was Tony right and you were just concerningly nice?

"I love how everybody at this bar is so chill south everything that's happening. It's like oh wow this guy just shot this green dude at table 8 and nope we totally don't care," you joked, pulling Peter out of his trance. He reminded himself that he should probably try to pay more attention. He didn't want to ruin the movie for you in case you had any questions.

But eventually, like all things do, the movie came to an end.

"So, how'd you like it?," Peter said while neither one of you made a move to leave the dark fort. You were laid out in practically a starfish-type position while he was sitting Indian-style.

You smirked. "I'll admit, it was pretty nice for a movie made in 1977. Still a bit lame though," you teased, pinching your fingers together with a giggle. Suddenly, you gasped. "Ooh, Vader was pretty lit though! Just straight force-choking people who disagree with you is such a power move."

Peter rolled his eyes and scoffed lightly. "Typical..."

"Excuse me?"

He bit back a quick smile. "Look, I'm not saying that Darth Vader isn't awesome. Because he is! Totally and completely but [Y/N], you do realize that in literally every movie we watch you like the villains?," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Because the villains are awesome!," you defended.

"Just saying. I'm sensing a bit of a pattern...," he teased.

You scoffed. "This coming from the guy who actually feels bad about some the people crashing into things when we're watching Ridiculousness," you said, reminding in how Peter was forever the relentless sap. "Well, while you're so busy judging me, whose your favorite character?"

At that, he gave a small sincere smile. "Ben. He's really cool."

"Ben Kenobi? The old guy that literally let himself die? But why?"

He shrugged, the small grin still present on his face. "Eh, sentimental reasons..."

He watched you return his sweet smile and it was then and there when Peter really felt content with the night. Though, you hadn't even known the weight his words carried, he did. Ned was the only other person who knew about it. But Peter knew right then and there that if you had asked, he'd tell you. And he knew you'd understand. Maybe you were just nice. Or maybe you did like him back. But in that moment, Peter didn't care. He just wanted to be here with you. Lost in the warm smell of popcorn and your vanilla perfume, watching a Star Wars movie with Uncle Ben surely smiling down from Heaven. And it gave Peter hope that maybe, just maybe, this was a step in the right direction.

2 hours (and five minutes) down. 22 hours (and forty seven mintues) to go...

---------------------------------------

Taglist: @underoosjae @spn-assemble-seven @of-your-eyes-begonia-skies @parkerpeter24 , @audreylovespidey706

59 notes · View notes

cherrystreet · 7 years

Note

"should we just search romantic comedies on netflix and see what we find?" so, i totally come to you with every fic idea that pops into my head. but like, i reeeally need little snippets of the times harry and louis decide to put on netflix. like, after takeout arrives or for movie night with the lads or to pick a new show to watch because they just finished the office (us version this time). or even when they're bickering and get passive aggressive over what to watch for said movie night

This is a little different than what you wanted but that’s only because I don’t know how to write domestic pieces so I hope this is okay and ily xx

It didn’t start as a routine.

The first time it happened, it was a Tuesday night filled with too much homework, the October weather already too cold for Harry’s liking. The blinking cursor on a blank Word document seemed to be mocking him, laughing at his inability to form a cohesive thought after working nonstop for the past four hours. Eventually, he abandoned his endless string of papers, walking aimlessly around his apartment for the better part of an hour in an attempt to find something better than writing 5,000 words on Game Theory. Nothing jumped out at him, so he continued to shuffle around, sighing obnoxiously, until his roommate Sam hollered from the other room, “If you don’t cut it with those pathetic noises, I’m going to punch you in the throat.”

Harry frowned. “I’m not even being loud,” he yelled back.

“Shut up and do your homework.”

“But my brain is fried–”

“Harry, enough.”

“Ugh.” He kicked off his shoes and slumped down onto the couch, staring at the clock as the minute hand steadily ticked forward. Somehow, watching time was more appealing than reopening up his laptop and forcing himself to write another word.

Sam was right. Absolutely pathetic.

“What should I do?” he asked after a few minutes, eyes nearly glazed over.

“The fuck should I know,” Sam replied, finally appearing around the corner. “Go down to the Hub.”

“It’s too cold out for that. And it’s raining.”

“Order some food.”

“I don’t have any money on me.”

“Watch a movie.”

“Nothing good is on.”

“How would you even know?! The TV is off!”

Harry shrugged. “Gimme your Netflix password. Maybe new stuff has been added.”

“Will you finally stop talking?”

“Maybe.”

Sam reached for the remote to the TV. “Thank God.”

It took about 17 minutes of “Chopped” for Harry to send out a text to everyone he could think of, a simple Come over. Everyone’s here. He didn’t want to sit alone, just wanted to unwind with the company of some friends. Sam was clearly no help, just kept yelling from his bedroom to keep the volume down, that “some people actually take their classes seriously, Harry.” And saying that everyone was already gathered together wasn’t technically a lie. Sam was there. And his fish. And the cast of “The Office,” currently streaming from the main TV in the living room.

Whatever. Semantics. People would be there shortly. People to talk to him and not tell him to shut up.

Twenty minutes later, Louis was standing in front of Harry, sweatpants too big and glasses smudged.

“Shut up,” he said, tugging on his hoodie strings. “What is this?!”

So much for that, Harry thought. “What?”

“You said people were here. It’s just you.”

“Is that so bad?”

“If I wanted to spend the night doing nothing and listening to someone drone on and on about nothing, I’d put on a Bob Ross special.”

Harry furrowed his brow. “Bob Ross is extremely talented…”

“Bob Ross is dead. And boring. And he never would have tricked me into coming here on a shitty Tuesday night under false pretenses.”

“I thought other people would show up!” He squished deeper into the couch cushions. “You gonna leave?”

Louis groaned and kicked Harry’s shoes out of the way as he climbed onto the couch beside him. “No. I came all the way here.”

“It’s, like, a nine minute walk…”

“Yeah, nine minutes in the wind and rain. You better have food as compensation. And why the fuck are you watching the British version of ‘The Office’? Why do you hate yourself? Give me the remote.”

Harry shook his head, standing up to grab snacks, wondering how constant abuse was the better alternative to staring idly at the wall.

The following Tuesday, Harry turned in his biochemistry assignment early, cracking his knuckles as soon as he his submit. It felt good to get rid of a week’s worth of studying, to not have to look at it anymore, and he slipped out of his jeans and into his most worn pair of pajama pants, the hole in the knee stretching with every wash. It didn’t take long for the couch to mold perfectly to his body, the apartment warm and quiet, Sam out for the evening. It was relaxing. It was welcoming. It was. Not what Harry wanted.

“Hey, I’ll order pizza,” he said through the phone’s receiver. “Dominos, if you want it.”

“I always want it,” Louis replied. “Cheap shot.”

“Pepperoni?”

“Ugh, Harry, can’t Steve Carell wait? We know what happens.”

“But it’s my favorite episode and I wanna watch you watch it.”

“I’ve seen it before.”

“I’ve never seen you watch it, though. Lou, they have a fucking benefit for rabies. Rabies. I need to see your face when Michael donates a giant check to a disease that’s already been cured.”

“Oh my God,” Louis snorted, but Harry could tell he was wearing him down. “Alright, whatever, fine, but make sure it’s extra cheese with the pepperoni.”

Seven days later, Harry did much less arm twisting, just casually mentioning they were up to the start of season five. Louis texted back, Don’t start without me. I’ll know if you’re lying.

Harry sucked in his cheeks, smile worming its way out, anyway. Wouldn’t dream of it.

The last Tuesday of the month, Louis was knocking on Harry’s door without bothering to ask if he was busy. Harry let him in graciously, snacks already on the coffee table and blankets on the arm of the couch.

And just like that, Tuesday became Harry’s favorite day of the week.

It’s been five months since Harry and Louis created their non-date date night, and they’ve gone through nearly everything on the Netflix list that moderately sparks their interest. Comedies, dramas, documentaries, musicals… They’ve watched them all, not too picky, hunkering down together to enjoy a casual night of TV. And neither one of them got bored of it, never asking to cut the night short or go out to do something else. Harry loves having the time to unwind, loves the fact that he has something so comfortable to count on, loves Louis’ company more than just about anything.

And that’s why he snaps when Louis doesn’t show up on Tuesday night in late March, the Netflix home screen nearly burned onto Harry’s retinas, waiting for Louis to walk through the door and pick the movie. He taps his fingers along his thighs, annoyed, wondering where the hell he could be. Nine o’clock comes and goes, as does ten o’clock, and by 11:30, “The Holiday” playing quietly in the background, Harry is less angry and more concerned that something horrible has happened. Louis doesn’t answer his phone the second time Harry calls him, or the third, but he does by the ninth, beyond irritated when he picks up.

“Harry, what the fuck,” he says, his voice tight. There’s a lot of background noise but Harry can’t figure out where he might be. “You had better be fucking dying.”

Harry skims his finger along the frayed edge of the blanket, suddenly embarrassed. “No, but, like, where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m at Ian’s. Is that why you called 100 times? Are you for real?”

“Why aren’t you here?” he says stupidly, his face hot. Who’s Ian? He hates him, regardless. “‘m watching Cameron Diaz try to seduce that hot British guy…”

“Jude Law?!”

“Yeah, him, and, like–”

“Harry, you called me nine times to talk to me about Jude Law.” It’s not a question.

“No,” he starts, “I didn’t. I called you nine times to ask why you stood me up.”

“Did we have plans?”

Harry looks down at his lap. “I mean, not verbal ones, but you always come here on Tuesdays and you’re not here now and–”

“Ian wanted to get a drink before he headed to Spain for the rest of the semester,” Louis says, cutting him off. “I didn’t think I needed to cancel a stupid friend hangout to do that. You’re kind of acting like a crazy boyfriend.”

“It’s not stupid and that’s not…” He starts to argue, but stops himself short, his heart racing in his chest. He knows he’s being irrationally angry and insane and, well, idiotically jealous, and now that Louis’ had to go ahead and say the B word, it’s ricocheting through his brain like live wire, sparking and hot. The thing is, they’re not boyfriends, because that’s not a line they’ve ever crossed, but just about everything they do - Tuesdays and otherwise - might argue that fact. They meet each other after class for coffee, they call each other on Sunday mornings, they spend school breaks at each other’s homes. Harry carries Louis’ backpack, Louis buys Harry dinner, they steal one another’s clothing… They share a fucking blanket on Harry’s Goddamn couch every single week, their knees brushing together, sending shocks up Harry’s spine, Harry unable to stop himself from stealing a series of unsubtle glances at Louis’ profile, his cheekbones, his lips. Fuck. His temple throbs and he does his best to swallow around the lump in his throat. Boyfriend. “Okay, yeah, you’re right, I’m sorry,” he chokes out.

Louis breathes through the phone for a beat too long. “I’m safe. I wasn’t kidnapped. I just… We’ll hang out later, alright?”

He doesn’t sound angry anymore, but Harry feels too antsy to keep talking. “Yeah, later. Bon voyage to Ian. I’ll see you this weekend or something.”

“Okay,” he replies. “Or something.”

Harry hangs up the phone with a thousand words on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows every single one of them and wills himself to stop thinking about the fact that he’s gone and lost his mind over his best friend spending the night out with a guy who isn’t him. He should be here on this couch, thigh pressed up against Harry’s, and this is not the way it was supposed to go. None of it was.

He must doze off at some point, because the next thing he knows, there’s a bang on the door, followed by a tinny voice mumbling, “Please let me in. I’m tired and cold.”

Harry flicks on the hallway light and pulls open the door as quickly as his body will allow himself to, finding himself face to face with a pink-cheeked Louis. “Lou, it’s…” He looks over at the clock. “Two in the morning.”

Louis shrugs, worming his way inside. “Yeah, well. I’m two hours late for our date. Sorry about that. You still watching ‘The Holiday’?”

He bites back his smile, body feeling like it’s deflating. “Finished it earlier. Should we just search romantic comedies on Netflix and see what we find?”

“That… Sounds like the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

Harry snorts, closing the door behind him and follows Louis into the living room. Louis’ already making himself comfortable on the couch, yawning. “Then what do you suggest?”

“We haven’t checked out the horror genre in a while.”

“Yeah, for a reason.” He sits beside Louis, lets Louis drape his legs across his lap. Like a magnet, his hand immediately goes to grip Louis’ ankle. “I get nightmares.”

Louis looks up at him from under his lashes, blinking slower than usual, and it makes Harry’s stomach twist. Maybe he’s tired. Maybe it’s something else. “Big baby.”

“Yeah,” he says, smirking, thumb drawing circles across Louis’ skin. “That’s me.”

Neither of them say anything else, nor do they move, and Harry’s trying to find something to say that isn’t something clicked for me tonight, but Louis speaks first, licking his lips.

“Sorry I stood you up,” he says softly, grabbing for the remote and selecting the first title on the menu, not looking at Harry. “I was a dick about it.”

Harry shrugs, inching his way closer, watching the way the screen’s colors dances across Louis’ face. “It’s alright. Just missed you.”

He can actually hear Louis swallow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Louis nods, biting at his bottom lip. He’s nervous. Harry exhales once he notices. “Can I stay over tonight?”

Harry isn’t sure what the implications are behind his question, or why Louis’ bothering to ask when he’s never asked before - usually just passes out on the couch or on Harry’s bed, curling up into a ball on the edge of the mattress - but it’s clear something has changed, based on the way Louis is looking up at him. He’s never looked at Harry like that before.

“Yeah,” Harry murmurs, “Lou, whatever you want.”

He doesn’t remember closing his eyes, doesn’t remember leaning in, but then there’s just breath between them, and then not even that, just skin on skin, warm and sweet and entirely too perfect. And Harry has no idea what’s playing on the screen in front of them, but it’s decidedly his new favorite film.

#drabble #my drabble #this is the first thing i've been able to write from start to finish in months so thank you for this #also i wouldn't let myself go to bed until it was done #i am tired and hungover as fuck #but i love you thank you for always thinking of me for your ideas!!!#i hope this was okay #even though it's been in my inbox for weeks #answered #Anonymous

251 notes · View notes