#you coulda just been a woman and her sort of son and her definitely son in law
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Deadbeat Pt. 1
Lee Bodecker x F!Reader
18+ ONLY
Warnings: age gap (reader is 21), smut/masturbation (implied/mild), cursing, abandonment, infatuation, alcohol, cheating, violence?, mild housewife kink?
Word Count: 4.3k
Summary: You work at the bar at the edge of town, the Sheriff is going through a divorce and needs to rent a room.
A/N: I’m terrible at writing summaries and I’m so sorry about that! I don’t think I would consider this a dark!fic, but it does cover a lot of themes, and topics that are darker than I usually write about- but I think that comes with the territory of writing about Lee Bodecker. I’ll make sure to update the warnings for each chapter and do not read if you are underage. I also ignored canon for this one.
There are no tags on this one, because no one has specifically asked to be tagged on smut fics and I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable!
I hope you all enjoy!
Tags and Requests are OPEN
“Get out of here Lee,” you spat, pointing to the door he just walked into the bar from. “You swore to Janie you wouldn’t touch a drop.”
“C’mon (y/n),” he said sitting at the bar anyways, a smug grin on his face, making you scoff.
“I ain’t having anything to do with you breaking your promise to that lovely woman,” you say confirming your point. You wipe your hands on the towel that was hanging from your apron.
“Jack and coke?” He asks, looking at you with eyes that would be endearingly puppy dog if it weren’t Lee Bodecker. You shook your head.
“A coke it is,” you say and he gives up trying for now. He regrets telling you on his last visit he’d be swearing off drinking cause Janie finally threatened to throw him out.
You slide a glass bottle of Coca-Cola down the length of the bar to Lee and he grinds his teeth slightly. The sugar was always his temporary fix. You also sent down his way a small bowl of roasted peanuts, feeling bad for the mess of a man.
“She’s gonna leave me anyways,” he grumbles and you shake your head, picking up on his attempts to illicit sympathy to coax you into giving him a drop of anything.
“Stop giving her a reason to Lee,” you point out, gesturing with your hands to emphasize that he was in the same small bar on the edge of town he always wandered into on weeknights. He’d tell Janie he was on duty but he’d really be down in this little box of a building getting drunk as a stunk.
“She’s the one who gone and cheated,” Lee said in an angry tone, not towards you, just at his situation. “That Miller fellow living a few miles down from me. I see his truck parked outside my house plenty of times to know he’s not just being neighborly.”
“I’m sorry Lee,” you say with a genuine tone of sympathy. You felt for him and his pain. You knew the stress of the job he led and the pain of knowing the love of your life don’t love you.
“She’s going to leave me,” he says, staring intently at the condensation on the bottle in front of him. “I’d been trying so hard for her and our marriage and she’s two timing with the neighbor when I’m out working.”
“And the thing is I don’t even care if she cheated,” Lee continued, “I’d look the other way if I knew she’d be staying with me. But it’s cause I know she don’t love me anymore. That’s what’s hurting me most.”
“Maybe y’all can work through this-“
“This was inevitable,” he says, cutting you off. You don’t point it out, cause he’s clearly distressed but normally you’d have no problem saying to Lee ‘Fuck you, let me finish Sheriff.’
“Do you got somebody?” Lee asks you. The question takes you back cause it wasn’t like the Sheriff to ask your about anything personal. He would come in, and you’d shoot the shit, exchange small talk, maybe some harmless flirting for a larger tip, but that was the extent of it.
“No, not anymore,” you say, having recently broke things off with your boyfriend. “I was seeing Arvin Russell for a couple months, but we just broke it off.”
“You’re too good for him anyways,” the sheriff scoffed at the mention of the Russell boy and took another swing from his bottle of pop. “How old are you anyways, sweetheart?”
“Twenty-one,” you respond, not thinking too much about the nickname. He had a habit of frequently using names like that when he talked to the women in this town. You think it started out as a tactic to win re-election and then it just stuck. He nodded.
“Yeah you two are around the same age,” he said, more so thinking out loud than it being a statement directed towards you. “Why’d you break it off?”
“Beat up my brother,” you answered, “Granted, the little shit had it coming. Can’t blame Arvin after I heard how the asshole was bothering that sweet thing Lenora. But he just took it too far. Almost killed the kid. The boy saw red so I got myself out of the picture. You can’t be with a boy who does that to your kin.”
Lee nodded understandingly. You didn’t interpret his actions or questions as genuine concern or interest in you, but that he was just asking you questions to distract from his marital woes.
“I’d do so many things different if I could be your age again,” he chuckled in a self-deprecating tone. “I’d sure as hell love to turn back time and have myself go down a better path.”
“It’s not just you, Sheriff,” you reply after collecting money another man sitting at the bar. You nod as a goodbye to the man, and then curse under your breath when he doesn’t tip you. “Asshole,” you mumble, tossing the few pennies into the tip jar. You walk back over to the sheriff and prop your elbows on the bar. “I’m sure everyone is this town wishes the same thing,” you say, trying to make him feel better.
“I’d love to just be your age again,” he says with a sigh, and then pops a small handful of the peanuts in his mouth. “Young, got your whole life ahead of you.”
“I’m not sure working in a place like this is setting me up for great things, Sheriff,” you chuckle moving to wipe the bar in the area where that other customer left. “A woman working as a bartender is equivalent to just being a whore according to the eyes of the Lord... at least in this town,” you laugh, using the towel from your apron to wipe the rings left behind on the countertop from the glasses.
“Arvin didn’t think so,” Lee countered, trying to make you feel a little better about your position. “I don’t think so. Hell, people in this town are so uptight about things that aren’t their business. You’re young, you need a job and you have one. It’s that simple.”
“I wish more people in this town thought that way,” you reply with a smile. “That new preacher last Sunday-“
“Don’t listen to that asshole,” the Sheriff scoffed, and chuckled when your eyes widened at his derogatory words towards the preacher. “He’s a showboating son of a bitch and he’s as phony as they come.”
“Those ruffled shirts are the most pretentious thing I ever seen,” you say, letting out a big laugh thinking about when he is giving a sermon in what looks like tacky prom attire.
“Pay him no mind,” Lee said, bringing the bottle to his grinning lips as he looked at you. “You’re a better person than he is.”
“I appreciate the sentiment,” you chuckle.
“Have a goodnight hunny,” another customer at the bar says dropping cash on the table as they leave. “Goodnight Sheriff,” the older man tips his hat and then walks out.
“Have a goodnight Marvin,” you call after him, “Give my love to Loretta!” You clear the empty glass and drop the cash off in the register.
While you’re moving around, Lee takes a moment to actually look at you. Any man with eyes knew you were pretty, but he ain’t never noticed before just how attractive you were. His eyes lingered for a moment at how the canvas waist apron extenuated your figure. He couldn’t believe this stunning young thing was stuck in a place like this with a dead end job talking to a deadbeat like him.
“How long you staying for Sheriff?” You ask suddenly, pulling him out of his trance.
“Uh, not sure,” he says, looking up at the dingy Luger Beer clock that hung on the wall. “Why sugar?”
“Seeing as though your sober I was hoping I could trouble you for a ride home?” You ask shyly.
“Of course,” he said without hesitation. “No trouble at all honey.”
“Thank you, Lee,” you say with a smile, making his heart skip a beat.
He’d talk to you most weeknights and never had this feeling. Maybe he had but he was too wrapped up in his own troubles to notice it. You were such a sweet girl, and he realized what an injustice it truly was for you to be stuck here.
The thought crossed his mind very quickly about if he wasn’t married- even though he knew divorce was coming around the corner any day now. If he had met you at a different time in his life if it would’ve been better. Instead of meeting you as an overweight, deadbeat of a sheriff which a drinking problem- he’d met you when he was fresh out of school, same age you are now. You all coulda fallen in love, started a family, and that would’ve been enough to keep him from taking up drinking in the first place.
He knew from the beginning Janie ain’t ever loved him. Hell, he’s not sure if he ever loved her thinking back on the whole relationship. Lustful, without any sort of promise behind it and they both were users. They used each other. He knew he treated her poorly as poorly as she treated him. He definitely had loved her, that much he knew was true, but now she’s cheating- something Lee never thought of doing at all no matter how many fights they had until the early morning hours.
As you maneuvered around behind the bar, locking up the liquor and wiping down the machines getting ready to lock up for the night, his mind played little tricks on him. The canvas apron was instead a pinafore, and the bar was his kitchen. He’d loved the sight, thinking about coming home to you instead of what was soon to just be an empty house.
Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he’d even be the one to keep his house. The idea of finding a new house- buying one for you, and being able to start over sounded like a dream life. Hell, he’d run away from this town right now if you said the word. He’s sure he could secure an election in another town, he had the connections to make it happen.
“I just got to lock up the office and I’ll be ready to go,” you say, untying your apron. He gulps and nods as confirmation. You disappear in the back room, cash drawer in your arms to lock away in the safe. He heads behind the bar to dispose of his empty bottle and the cardboard tray his peanuts were in.
You come back, your peacoat buttoned and the sash tied around your waist in a bow you had made. You had a small handbag in one hand, and your work apron in the other. Suddenly, he was nervous and didn’t know how to carry himself around you. Undeniably, the Sheriff was developing a crush. He couldn’t shake the feeling. He wanted to ask you out on a proper date, but he knew with his age and reputation- it wouldn’t be fitting. He was moving way too fast in his own mind to keep up with. Just daydreams, he thought to himself, suppressing the thoughts of a future with you for now.
“Okay,” you said, giving the place one more once over to make sure it was all set. “That does it.”
“After you,” he said, holding the door open for you. You giggled, and once you both were outside, you used your key to lock the front door. He held the door open for you to take the passenger seat in the cruiser. As you buckled your seatbelt, he walked over to the driver’s side and then slide into his seat.
You were a little nervous. You weren’t sure why. This wasn’t the first time you’d asked for a ride home. Usually, it’s never this late. When you close, you usually walk home alone. You definitely didn’t live that far, but again that was more dangerous than getting a ride home.
You realized that you were worried about nothing. You thought maybe some would accuse you of something scandalous, getting a ride home from a man so late. However, this was the Sheriff and the streets didn’t have another car on it at all. The town knew where you worked and if anyone were to see you, they’d know you were closing shift and you asked for a ride to avoid walking home this late alone.
“Thank you again,” you said, starting up a conversation as the sheriff was backing out of the tiny lot that was next to the bar.
“Oh, don’t mention it, hun,” he said, “It’s my job to make sure you get home safe. Your house is the white one at the end of Birch?”
“The very one,” you say, looking out the window. There aren’t any street lights, and the only light for miles is coming from the headlights of the cruiser. You don’t catch Lee stealing glances at you as he starts moving forward.
“How’s your ma doing?” He asks, making conversation.
“Oh, she left,” you said nonchalantly, and it makes Lee’s eyebrow raise in confusion.
“Wait. What?” He asks looking over at you for a second before turning his eyes back to the road.
“Oh, I thought you would’ve heard,” you say softly, your façade of indifference torn down. “She left us about a month ago. Met a man from Columbus and moved in with him. The whole town was talking about it for weeks.”
“So, is it just you and Tommy now?” he asks, wondering what kind of a mother leaves her girl to take care of her high school aged brother on what she makes at the bar.
“Oh, he went with her,” you explain, “House is all mine. After the whole thing with Arvin, she decided to pull him out of school and he goes to school in Columbus now. She wasn’t gonna bring him but after that, she changed her mind.”
“They just left you?”
“I chose to stay.”
“No offense but why would the hell would you chose to do that?” he jokes, making you laugh a little.
“It’s all paid off, and my grandpa left it to me and not her anyways,” you explain. “House has been in my name for three years now. And if we sold the house, she’d just piss the money away. Besides, would you move back in your mother now, Sheriff?”
“No, I can’t say I would want to,” he chuckles.
“So, I’m just supporting myself and that ain’t too bad,” you shrug.
“Sounds lonely,” he comments and you nod in agreement.
“It can be,” you admit, as he turns down your street.
“You ain’t worried living alone?” He asks.
“You tell me, Sheriff,” you joke, “If I got something to worry about it sounds like you’re not doing your job.”
“Ouch,” he says and holds a hand clutching his hand to his heart dramatically. It made you laugh, and it made him smile that he made you laugh. God, he loved your laugh.
“Thank you again, Lee,” you say sincerely, quickly kissing his cheek when he parks in front of your house. The gesture takes him back, and he’s relieved you can’t see how red his face is. He’s almost angry at how flustered you make him and you have no idea. “Have a goodnight,” you say.
“Goodnight, (Y/N),” he says, a little shakily. You get out of the car, and he watches you walk up to the porch, your hips swaying naturally, and he bites his lip. He groans, but at his disappointment in himself for staring again. You disappear behind the front door and he hits his palm on the steering wheel, trying to shake whatever feeling this was.
He reluctantly drove home, not wanting to have to talk or see Janie. He knew he was just heading home to a fight for being out so late, even though he knows she takes full advantage having fucking Miller over. His jaw is locked, angry about a fight he hasn’t even had with her yet. His cheek still tingles from your touch, and he thinks about if he should just leave Janie. He could just leave, get an apartment nearby or something. He doesn’t even care if she gets the damn house. He’s bracing himself for another night of fighting as he pulls into his own driveway and heading up to his own house.
He fumbles with his keys in the dark. He thinks he had the right one, but it doesn’t work. He tries another that is the same shape, still doesn’t work. He intakes a sharp breath and tries the first key again- he’s positive that’s his house key. “Fucking Christ,” he mutters when the key won’t even go into the lock. “Janie!” he shouts, pounding on the front door. She changed the locks.
“Fuck,” he exclaims, stomping down the front steps and walking around to the back door. He tries his keys again with no luck. He pounds into the door hard and incredibly loud. He knows she’s there, upstairs in their bed, ignoring his knocks. He tries the kitchen window, but it’s locked. Every window on the first floor is fucking locked. He curses again and heads back to his cruiser. He slams the door shut and his grip on the wheel is turning his knuckles white. Does she expect him to sleep in his car in the driveway?
He doesn’t even think about where he’s going to go, but he knows damn sure he’s not going to give her the satisfaction of sleeping outside of his house in his cop car for the whole town to talk about. He just pulls out of his driveway and starts driving. He isn’t even thinking about what route he’s driving, it’s like he’s driving on autopilot while he screams out every curse word in existence.
By the time he calms down, he realizes he’s driving down Birch again. His muscles in his body tense, and he thinks back to your conversation when he dropped you off. Your mother and brother were gone, meaning you have two spare bedrooms. He knows he shouldn’t but the temptation is way too overwhelming. He has nowhere else to go. If someone saw his car… well, he’d worry about that tomorrow. Your house is two miles away from your nearest neighbor, settled back at the end of a long dirt road. Someone knowing he was there was unlikely. He had people who could save your name. It was all innocent. Janie kicked him out and he knew you had an extra room. Hell, he’d rent a room from you- Wait. That’s perfect. That solved all of his problems and yours. He knows you were downplaying how hard it must be to keep up with the house and by him paying rent, you could take care of the house. It was a win-win.
He felt so confident now and he was so proud of himself for devising this plan. He parked his car out front and then walked up to your front door, knocking gently. The sound of the knock made him now incredibly nervous. He didn’t want to scare you or for you to think he was trying to take advantage. Granted, there would be a lot more than financial benefits to being able to live with you, which he knew were selfish, but the idea of being able to see you everyday was overwhelming. It was the closest thing to the dream he was wrapped up in back at the bar. He could live out his little pretend domestic bliss, and you’d get the money you need for the house. He knew he was insane and this was probably wildly inappropriate, but he knew you were too kind to turn him away.
You opened the door with a small yawn, a yellow bathrobe secured over your nightgown fully, to keep yourself decent when you answered the door. You were going to call the Sheriff when you heard the rapping at your door so late and ignore the knocks, but looking out the window of your bedroom you saw it was Lee’s cruiser parked outside.
“Lee?” you ask quietly, sleepiness very evident on your mumbled voice.
“Janie kicked me out,” he said softly, “Changed the locks on me. Darling, I’m so sorry for intruding but I have no where else to go.”
“Come in,” you say sympathetically, the news waking you up quite a bit. “Lee, I’m so sorry. You can take my mom’s old room; it’s got an attached bathroom you can use too.”
“Thank you (Y/N),” he says quietly. You close the door and secure the lock and the chain again as he looks around the house.
“Don’t worry about it,” you insist. “I can take you there. Follow me.”
You walk up the stairs, Lee following closely behind and he’s ashamed that he took the opportunity to just openly check you out again. At the top of the stairs there was a hallway lined with photographs in mismatched frames. You point to the door at the end of the hall.
“That’s the master,” you explain, “There’s a bathroom attached inside if you want to clean up or anything. There’re clothes in the dresser if you want pajamas- should be in the bottom drawer.”
“Okay, thank you,” he replies, looking down at you as you yawn again, and he notices how your hair is a little messy. The sight drives him wild.
“Anything in the kitchen is up for the taking to,” you offer.
“Look, (Y/N),” he says, “I know this isn’t the best time to be talking about this, but I really need a more permanent plan on where to go. I know it sounds crazy and out of the blue, but could I rent that room from you? Name your price. I figured… I really need a new place, and you could probably use another source of income to keep up with the house. Plus, it’s safer than living alone…”
“Um…,” you begin to speak, but you bit your lip, showing that you’re intently thinking about his offer. Everything he said was right. You needed the money, and he was right that living alone was dangerous in this town and living with the sheriff is the safest person there was in the whole town. People would talk, of course, but no one would deny that the circumstances were just ideal for the two of you and nothing more. You were an adult, a homeowner, and it was your business who you rented a room too. “Yeah, I think that makes sense for both of us,” you agree. “We’ll sort out the details tomorrow.”
“Of course,” he says with a smile.
“Alright, um,” you say crossing your arms around your chest awkwardly. “Goodnight, Lee.”
“Goodnight, (Y/N),” Lee responds as you head back into your own bedroom. He let’s out a heavy sigh and heads into your mom’s room- or rather his new room. He’d have to figure out how to get his stuff back from Janie tomorrow. He’d really just need his clothes and some other necessities.
The room was fairly spacious. There was a closet and dresser. The closet still had some clothes of your mom’s left behind, and for the most part, the room looked fairly intact. It was like she up and left with just a few things. Lee shook his head, angry at how poorly you were treated by your mother. He pulls off his leather jacket, tossing it and his hat onto the bed. He opened up the bottom drawer of the dresser, and just like you said, it was filled with men’s clothing. He concluded they had to belong to the man your mom lived with now, more things just left behind.
He tosses a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt onto the bed, and then he heads to the bathroom.
In the drawer beside the sink, he finds a new toothbrush still in its packaging, that he opens for himself and drops it in the white toothbrush holder on the counter. The towels are all clean and folded neatly on the shelf above the toilet. He finds a new soap under the sink as well, and decided he needed a shower to just wash off everything of tonight off in hopes he’ll feel better.
He strips of his uniform, folding it nicely knowing he’ll need to wear it all again tomorrow morning. He steps into the shower and turns on the water. The hot water just immediately helps him to loosen the muscles that had been so tense. He lets the warm water run down his face and back, just letting himself enjoy the feeling. He lathers up his body with soap and then it finally hits him that he was here, living with you, and then suddenly he’s hard.
“Fuck,” he mutters, resting his head against the shower wall, the running down his back. He was in so much trouble he realizes. As he beats himself off in the shower, his mind is clouded with thoughts of you. The way the apron at the bar looked around your hips, and the smell of your perfume when you leaned into him. The way your body looked as you paraded yourself around behind the bar. The way you have no problem talking back to him when he walks into the bar after saying he’s off the bottle the night before, just making want to shut you up with a rough kiss. The feeling of your lips on his cheek and he imagines your lips on his neck. He thinks about how your hair looked tousled when you just showed him to his room. He lets himself slip back into that same domestic daydream. You being his wife… married to you instead dealing with this goddamn divorce. The absolute sickening sweet domesticity making him groan, as he imagines his hand is yours. Why on earth did he think he’d be able to do this?
PART TWO
#lee bodecker#the devil all the time#lee bodecker imagine#lee bodecker fic#lee bodecker x reader#lee bodecker x you#lee bodecker x y/n#sebastian stan imagine#sebastian stan x reader#lee bodecker smut#sebastian stan one shot#sebastian stan characters#lee bodecker x reader smut#angst#smut
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Off Day: Seven
Bucky walked into his shop, knocking snow from his boots and shrugging out of his coat, “You’re late, Barnes,” Tony shouts over his welder.
“I had sidewalks to shovel, Stark, Fuck off.”
“Did you get, Y/N’s?” Nat asked handing him a coffee. He took it with a grateful smile, “Yeah. I wanted to make sure she wasn’t out there doing it. She’s got enough going on with Kaity and the shop.”
Nat nodded, “Yeah. Judy had this up on her facebook this morning.” she said hitting a few buttons on her phone. She shows him a photo of you and Kaity, asleep leaning on each other, cuddled close in the glow of a television. The caption said, “I love my girls. I don’t know how I’d do this without them.”
Bucky smiled a little. You looked comfortable. He was glad at least, that you had time. That you could come to terms with it all. He sighed, “I take it you heard from Kaity?” he asked.
“No,” she said, “But Y/N did say she’s got a pain management appointment today. Judy’s gonna take her, per the message she sent me this morning when I asked if I should punch you in the mouth this morning.”
“I thought you were my friend,” Bucky said feigning hurt.
“Hey, girls gotta protect each other,” she said tossing hair out of her eyes, “And I thought if I punched you Kaity wouldn’t shoot you.”
“Fair,” he said nodding, “But I was a perfect gentleman. I even apologized for mussing her lipstick.”
“Good,” Nat said, “Now keep up the good work. Maybe you can keep this one.”
“I coulda kept lots of them!”
“Yeah. But you want to keep this one.”
Bucky nodded, “I really do.” He sipped his coffee and let it warm his hands for a moment, settling into his day.
He wanted to text you and tell you good morning, but he also didn’t want to smother you and leave you feeling like you had no space.
Eventually, he did text you, pulling his phone back out of his pocket. He couldn’t find a fault in a gentle reminder that he thought you were beautiful.
Good morning, baby girl. How’d you sleep? ❤
He set his phone on top of his toolbox and got to work on his engine build, tinkering with this and that, half-listening for his phone to chime
When it did, he wiped his hands on a shop rag and turned to pick up the device. On his screen, there was a picture of the cleaned off sidewalk taken from your kitchen window.
I slept fine, you? Kaity says thank you for doing the walk. She wasn’t looking forward to dealing with her cane on the snow.
He smiles a little and chuckles. You really don’t have any experience. No flirting, just the morning report. But, that was okay. He’d teach you that too. He had time and you had a full plate. He didn’t expect to be your top priority right now. He’d be disappointed in you if he was honestly.
He didn’t text you back right away, instead, he shot a text to his mom.
ma, can i bring a friend to breakfast sunday?
It’s not that awful creature?
No.
who is it? She’s not on drugs is she?
Not unless you count coffee.
Who is she?
Y/N.
If you don’t bring her I’m gonna disown you.
Bucky smiled to himself. His ma had always had a soft spot for little lost lambs and you definitely fit the bill. She’d been forever asking him about you. It irked her that you’d left town when you’d gone. Bucky was pretty sure if she was gonna get grandkids out of wedlock, you’re the only person she’d tolerate. Not that he wanted that. All he wanted right now was to find a way to make you stay. A way to help you through this mess. He picked up his phone again and texted you.
Baby girl I need you to do me a favor
oh?
I need you to come to breakfast at my ma’s house on sunday or she’s gonna disown me.
I’ll talk to Kaity. And Aunt Judy. I don’t want to leave them in the lurch.
i’ll pick you up?
In a car, right?
for now. it’s cold and I don’t want you getting sick.
Ok.
“Bucky,” Steve said strolling across the shop floor, “I’m gonna take your phone if you don’t get that fucking engine built.”
“C’mon, Steve,” he protested, “It was important.”
“Y/N having a hangnail is not important.”
Bucky sighed and shoved his phone into the pocket of his flannel, “I was asking her to come to breakfast on Sunday,” he says.
“Well there’s a test of your relationship,” Steve said.
“Shut up, ma will love her,” Bucky said.
“Oh that I don’t doubt,” Steve said chuckling, “Miss Winnie really does like adopting little lost lambs.”
“Then what’s to test?” Bucky drawled, starting to work on his assembly again.
“That’s a lot of family togetherness at one table Buck,” Steve said, “Y/N isn’t exactly feral but...”
“It’ll be fine. Ma’s excited to have her. Pretty sure she’s been dying to actually talk to her since we were in high school.”
Steve grinned, “Are you kidding. If you woulda actually dated her Minnie would have had the wedding planned and ready to go for the day after graduation.”
Bucky felt his cheeks color and focused on his assembly after that, at least on the outside. In the back of his mind, he’d always wondered what it would be like to wake up with you every morning. He’d loved every minute of getting you down for a nap yesterday, the only thing he’d think about changing is having to run the shop. He’d wanted to lay down with you and let you snuggle on his chest so badly it ached. He’d come back to check on you a few times, adding another blanket to keep you warm and making sure you were still asleep.
“You’ll make cute kids,” Clint said smirking when he noticed Bucky blushing.
“Clint,” Bucky said warningly.
“What?” he answered, “You will. And at least they’ll only be half stupid.”
“That’s also true,” Steve snorted.
“It’s too early for that. She’s never even had sex!” Bucky protested, not realizing exactly what he said.
“With you or ever?” Clint said, blinking in surprise.
Bucky groaned internally, “Ever,” he mumbled.
“How?” Clint said, “Hell I woulda hit it if you hadn’t been in love with her. She’s hot.”
Bucky sighed, “Look. It’s not really anyone’s business. Just. It’s. She’s just not found anyone she wanted to sleep with. That’s all you need to know.”
Clint nodded, “Fair enough,” he said. “She’s a good girl. A little too sweet for you but. It works.”
_________
Sunday morning, Bucky was up earlier than usual, taking time to shave and find a shirt that didn’t have grease stains on it. He had one. One solitary white shirt that had as yet escaped the shop and he pulled it on gratefully. He made a mental note to buy a few new shirts, things to wear when he took you out. You were worth looking decent for.
He knew you wouldn’t have all day with him. But your Aunt Judy and Kaity both had been more than willing to do without you until evening. Bucky had dropped by the book shop every day, to bring you coffee and steal a kiss. Or two. Or three. It made his lunch breaks a lot more fun. and it gave him a chance to check on you face to face. He needed to see you. He basked in every shy smile and lingering hug. It felt so comfortable. In some ways, your head on his chest felt more intimate than any time he had had sex with a woman. You were giving him more than your body, letting him close. You were carefully handing him your heart and trusting him not to hurt you again.
That made him feel a lot of things. A sort of pride. And fear. A need to protect you. He just wanted you to be happy. Safe and happy.
He got out of his car and walked to the door. He remembered this house as your grandma’s house. It looked the same. The family had kept it up really well, he noted. He knocked on the door and waited. Your Uncle Jack opened the door and jerked his head towards the end of the porch, indicating Bucky should follow him there.
Bucky felt his mouth go dry but he nodded and went.
“Before Y/N comes down here,” he said, “I want you to know one thing.”
Bucky cocked his head, “What’s that, Sir?”
“I want to know that you’re going to take care of my girl,” he said, fixing Bucky with a stare that made him feel like he was 13 and taking you on your first date.
“I’m going to try, Sir,” he said, “I- I should have done it years ago.”
Jack took his hand and clapped him on the shoulder walking him back towards the door. “That’s all I needed to know son,” he said kindly, “Just treat her right. You hear?”
“I hear,” he said, letting himself be ushered inside to wait on you.
You came downstairs a few moments later, shoes in hand. He smiled as he watched you struggle to put shoes on without sitting down before loping of the landing and down the last half a flight.
“Hi,” you murmur, shrugging into your coat, “Sorry. I woke up late.”
“It’s fine, Baby girl,” he said kissing your head.
“I won’t be gone late,” you tell your uncle, standing on your toes to kiss his cheek.
“Darlin’,” he drawled, “Don’t worry about us. It’ll be fine. I’ll look after my other girls, you just enjoy a day off.” He shooed the two of you out the door gently and Bucky put his arm around your shoulder, stealing a soft kiss hello.
“Come on, baby,” he coaxes, “Ma’s excited.” You smile a little and he kisses your nose. He’s not used to someone being so quiet but then, he supposes that he’s doing okay reading you. You look a little anxious but happy to see him.
He helps you up into his truck and takes the opportunity to pop you lovingly on the backside. “Bucky!” you squeak.
“Sorry, baby girl. Just appreciating a work of art,” he chuckles.
He steals another kiss before he buckles himself in and grins at you, “You’re always so pretty,” he murmurs, “I promise I’ll get a hair cut... maybe some new clothes.”
“Why?” you ask, brushing hair out of his eyes.
“Can’t have you embarrassed by me,” he said, “Walking around covered in grease and shit.”
You take his hand, kissing the calloused palm tenderly, “Bucky,” you sigh, “Why would I care about that? You work. You pay your bills. I’m not gonna be embarrassed by that.”
Bucky feels his cheeks color and he feels a warmth spread through his chest. “You got a hoodie I can steal?” you ask teasing.
He laughs, “Yeah,” he said, backing out of the drive, “Do you want me to bring it to you or do you want to just borrow one and not give it back.”
“I’ll get a hold of it the old fashioned way, thank you.” you tell him.
“Whatever you want, baby,” he said smiling as you laced your fingers through his.
It was a nice ride. Bucky always liked having a pretty girl riding shotgun. He always wanted that pretty girl to be you.
He helped you down after he parked and stole another soft kiss when you fell against his chest, “Easy, baby girl,” he chuckled, setting you gently on your feet. “I really hope you’re hungry,” he said walking you up the porch steps, “Ma only knows how to cook for an army.”
He walked you into the house and helped you out of your coat before taking off his own.
Winnifred was waiting, eager to hug you and make a fuss. Bucky watched as you maintained your composure, friendly and smiling but plainly a little uncomfortable. “You’re here!” she said, “I hoped Bucky wasn’t pulling my chain. I swear darlin’ he’s been in love with you since that first day of Kindergarten. He used to get so worried when you weren’t in school.”
You blush and Bucky puts his arm around you, squeezing gently. “I- I... it’s nice to meet you,” you say smiling, not sure what else to say. “Ma,” Bucky said, “let her catch a breath. Jesus.”
Winnifred tugged him down by his ear and kissed his cheek, “Don’t you sass me, mister. This is the first girl you brought to eat that is wearing actual clothes.”
You smile a little and Bucky blushes, “Ma,” he groaned.
“It’s alright, Bucky,” you murmur, snuggling into his side. In that moment, he didn’t even care. He was just happy. You were there and it just felt right. It felt like home hadn’t felt since he left for the army.
Tags: @lancsnerd @etherealwaifgoddess @thorfanficwriter @blameitonthecauseway
#Bucky Barnes#Steve Rogers#clint barton#natasha romanoff#Bucky x reader#soft bucky#biker!bucky#biker!au#fluff
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LOVE TKO
Leone Impellizzeri was both the shortest man Delores knew as well as the most vulgar. In another world, Delores would have avoided him at all costs, for his hair-trigger temper and quick hands made her catch her breath and caused her shoulders to hitch. But, in this world Mr. Impellizzeri was unfortunately her Boss.
Delores was navigated to him by Giovanni, as she needed to not only take care of her grandfather (gently threading on the line between granddaughter and nurse) but also provide for him - consequently, provide for herself. It was not in Delores’ desire to work at a small den where Italian men congregated. It was also not in Mr. Impellizzeri's desire to have her black face greeting those who entered his establishment.
His clear hesitance made Delores think just how ridiculous prejudice was. This was not a five star restaurant, not even a Disco, just a “club” that looked no different than any other corner shop in Brooklyn. Why, to strictly judge the exterior even brought the local deli to mind. Potentially being declined by Mr. Impellizzerri would have left Delores with no wounded pride. In fact, she would have selfishly felt gratitude.
Alas, Giovanni continued promising Leone she was a, “good kid.” In all the years he had known her, Amos never lifted a hand to keep her in her place. Granddaddy’s dearest companion had nothing but the kindest things to say about her, and due to this, she was welcomed. But not with open arms.
It took time to trust her, Delores knew it. White skepticism was the same wherever she went. From the time her Grandfather shakily walked up and down the concrete steps of their stoop to the time he was developing bedsores from the confinement to his mattress, Mr. Impellizzeri gradually changed.
The bonuses he began giving were not out of fondness, but rather the fact she, “didn’t tell her friends about the hip, hot spot.” There were many ways to interpret this, and although mildly offended, Delores asked no questions. By the time Granddaddy passed on, she was kept at the New Prize Social Club as someone cherished.
Men took in her petite height and slender legs with zeal and benevolence. Dino Vaccaro was even taken to calling her baby. Sometimes babydoll. Delores supposed it was fine so long as his hands never ‘accidentally’ grazed her back for too long. His gaze never made her feel nauseous - she even believed although he was older than her (and young enough to be Leo's son - eldest son) Dino was quite handsome.
In the grace of time, Delores reached the point where she also knew more about what went on in the Impellizzeri family home than she cared to. Like how Leone's daughter Angela was ‘in need’ of a friend like her. Eventually, it became clear to Delores that Angela was an aimless young woman. ‘Spoiled’ Grandaddy would surely say..
In spite of Leone’s warmth, the bonuses, and even the familiarity of the locals, there was little Delores enjoyed about New Prize.
“Sally!” Leone’s hands clapped in rapid succession, “s’time for you’se to hit the road!”
Winston’s dear friend made the place even more of an area where she, arguably, felt comfortable. The others did not treat him with the same serene indifference as she did, though. Often, Salvatore was treated to sneers and jeers from the scowling mouths elders, but Delores came to the conclusion he was tolerated because Giovanni shaped him into the finest Boxer in Bensonhurst. These days, she was often hearing how he pummeled another man from Queens (Italian, of course). A prized boxer of Astoria, she believes.
There was no doubt in her mind the sport was tied to a mafia related matter. The longer she stayed, the more she could see the subtleties, codes, gestures. However, all the boxers of Brooklyn’s Italian community were honored and celebrated here, and Delores came to the conclusion that across New York, Dons from different families bet on these young men.
Either way, Salvatore's prowess meant he got a pass wherever he went. No longer did Giovanni have to have him on a leash, playing the role of caretaker. Delores saw some had difficulty with this. Mr. Impellizzeri had difficulty with this.
“Y’know, you’re missin’ out on good customer service by closin’ this early!” as Salvatore made his reply, Delores scoffed below her breath. 10 PM was not early by any means. “It’s around this time when the real introspective hours kick in! Where’s a guy supposed t’think at?” he went on to ask.
“I don’t care! You can get lost in your thoughts in a car, in a taxi! Y’just gotta get the hell outta here! Shop’s closed, Sal!”
Salvatore rose both his body and hands, showing he desired no fight the older man. Even if he was 5’4. Even if he would have easily won. Watching him shove his hands into his pockets, Delores could only think of how she hated this hour. Particularly on nights like this when she was in charge of closing. Each time she would go into the night, praying she would make it back to Bed-Stuy alive. At this point, she prayed so much she should have actively attended Sunday Services.
“Angie’s datin’ a guy like that.”
“Is she?”
From the bar’s warmth to the cold air of the November night, Mr. Impellizzeri’s conversation traveled with them. To a degree, Delores felt resentment. How could he speak with her so attentively and then not even have enough kindness in him to wait with her for the bus?
“Can’t stand him,” he shakes his head, “I warned her about that guy, but she wouldn’t listen, and now what's happened? She has a baby. I don't fault the kid for resenting or nothin' but...oh madonna - this coulda all been avoided. You’d listen to your grandfather if he said the man you brought him was no good, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes.” She means, she supposes so.
All the men in her life (or boys, if she counts the childhood infatuation held for Thomas Reed and Derrick Callaghan) were temporary. At the same time, she is aware none of them would have earned Granddaddy’s approval. They would have labels like buffoons or, had all of these attributes reduced to 'trifling.' To just briefly think of all that could have been if she were more open with her feelings, Delores understood her past distance. She was the sort of young girl who would think of how she and her lover’s bed sheets would look in their future home, but never ever would a name be mentioned in Granddaddy’s midst.
“You’re such a good kid, Dolly.”
She is twenty-one.
“Stay safe.” Leone’s hand lingered over her own. There was affection in the gesture. Almost felt paternal. But that was not why Delores smiled, no. Thinking of how he signed her paycheck was the only reason she wore a tight smile, from the time his fingers grazed over her own to the time she walked onward the beam was no more.
There was nothing to smile about as she walked through the cold. The dark cold. Where any man could be watching her. Where any man could emerge from the shadows and do more than steal her new purse. Instinctively, her grip on the dark leather strap tightened. She would not make the same mistake twice.
Stay safe, the bitterness that bubbled in her stomach rose to her chest, leaving her lips as a spiteful whisper: “keep me safe….”
It baffled Salvatore how frequently their paths crossed. Sure, the two of them were acquainted as - practical children, but even at the age of twelve Delores seemed to have the makings of one of those women. One of those women who would one day live far, far from Brooklyn. She would be married to a smart man who made his living through keeping people out of jail, if not pulling bullets out of bodies. They made good money; he could see her marrying into money.
It was believed that either her grandfather would have financed her departure from the restless city or, his death was going to get her into motion. In the end she remained in the ‘ancient’ brownstone. Not only getting money from Brooklyn’s wise guys, but also working a double shift as Winston’s maid. If Salvatore did not see Delores at New Prize, cleaning and taking orders, then it was in her cousin’s apartment: fixing dinner and running a bath for little Naomi.
Winston saw the way he would look at her as she tended to his daughter. Eyelids heavy, a ghost of a smile on his lips. It was as though he could just read Salvatore’s filthy mind. Seeing the multiple ideas of how he considered approaching her, touching her. It took no time for Winston to voice how he did not want him talking to her.
It was an unusual demand. The two of them shared things since they were boys. Candy, money, even women once they came of age. But his cousin? She was off limits.
It somewhat brought to mind how their grandfather would always keep her out of sight. Then, Sal guesses, the old man basically trained her on what to do when men were around. Because one sight of him? She would make herself scarce and swiftly, at that. Obviously not running, but obviously not wanting to be in his sights. Salvatore could not deny to himself that this is what steadily drew out his interest.
What made her so different to hide away? He asked himself this question progressively more these days. What made her more pure than other women? Supposedly pure - definitely pure. The concept of a single that woman so off-limits, like a princess, would bring an unbearable friction in his jeans on some days. He was capable of playing with a few fantasizes, stroking himself as if the woman he desired was filling him with divine satisfaction, coming and then moving on with life. But Delores just had to be in his spaces, and that made things different.
So tonight, he was throwing all loyalty to Winston out the window. Those pact-sealing handshakes they did at sixteen were but a thing of the past as Salvatore told himself, with certainty and more than that, determination, he was going to talk to Delores Littlejohn tonight. Ideally, it was going to be as old man Leo bid her goodbye, but he had to stand around outside just talking about whatever. Salvatore would not put it past him to have the desire in taking her on his arm. He would be quoting Frank Sinatra, telling Dolly how she made him feel so young.
That is, if another man didn’t get at her first. Dino most definitely had a sweet spot for her. Nevermind the fact he had a wife at home and a mistress five blocks down down the road: Dino had nothing but sweet words for the most unique looking woman in the bar. Whether Delores knew it or not, she was his sweetie, his honey, his babydoll. All of these names were uttered to Salvatore and other men, his fondness for her clear as day. When she approached, he hid his feelings. Mostly. The way ‘doll’ rolled off his tongue with such simplicity, one would think it was just a quirk of his speech.
Dino and Leo could fawn over her all they wanted, but Salvatore was determined to speak first. Really speak beyond a ‘hi, how ya doin’ and other questions that did not travel far.
He pressed his foot on the pedal, moving down the dark street slow and smooth. Maybe old man Leo didn’t have a thing for her, Sal considered it. What sort of man would leave a woman out here like this? In November, 6 PM seemed like 10 PM and 10 PM seemed like 1 AM.
“Hey,” how she jumped at his voice, the lights of his car, him. It did not matter he leaned out the window with friendliness in his smile. “Did I scare you Dolly?” He couldn’t help but laugh at her newfound stiffness.
Her brow arches, she sneers as if he committed a grave offense: “yes!”
“Hey, what’re y’so mad about? I wasn’t tryin’ to!”
Silence emerged as Delores took the moment to breathe, considering what sort of answer to give. “I’m sorry for yelling at you...but you still snuck up on me.”
Sal swore she rolled her eyes while turning her head. Rather than being embittered, he cannot recall ever seeing a woman do that so damn near graceful.
“How?” persistent, he asks this. Ready to point out he was not on foot, he did not tap her shoulder, grinning over her shoulder like some nightstalking creep. Delores did not answer. Hand tighter on her purse, she took mighty strides.
Salvatore had to admit, the years shifted the way Delores’ demeanor was conveyed. No longer did she seem like a sixty-seven year old woman trapped in a youthful body, her ways somehow became not ‘old’ but ‘elegant.’ As though she were a woman of class, pride, all that other good stuff.
The maturity of her face also brought fascination. Fascination she and Winston just about shared the same, thin almond-shaped eyes that she somehow made gorgeous. He also felt there was there was something “royal” within her smooth jawline, giving her chin extra leverage to jut and show disdain for her surroundings.
Sometimes, like tonight, she let strands of her ebony hair dangle from her updo with red lipstick and small diamonds that dangled from her earlobes. She looked good. Too good for New Prize. She needed to be a hostess in - Sal supposed, Manhattan. A nice place in Manhattan where all the rich people went to eat. Even though there was an ‘old’ element to her - it was not like a decrepit old hag. He would compare her to a glamorous woman from the 50s, with traditional values and all of that.
It hit Sal like lightning - this is why Dino’s old ass was enchanted with her.
“Are you mad at me?” He grins, hand on the wheel.
“Please leave me alone.”
“Look, I’m not talkin’ to you because I’m tryna be a creep. I wanted to know if y’wanted a ride home!”
Delores shot him a look, but the price of that was having to unforunately bask in his stupid smile. “You were going to drive to Bed-Stuy?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“It’s a thirty-minute drive.” She snaps without raising her voice.
“Eh, old man Leo was right, car rides are best to think in.”
She shakes her head, “oh, please.”
“Y’know…” Sal removed his foot from the pedal, “It’s supposed t’snow tonight. How long does the bus take t’come?”
“...it varies.”
“Why do you wanna take a chance freezing out there when it’s warm in here?” Now she was looking at him as if trying to solve a puzzle - one she was on the verge of understanding. It did not bother him. He remained chipper, in high-spirits: “c’mon!”
With a huff, Delores begrudgingly accepted he had a point. Her body may have been warm as she donned her coat, but that article was not enough to prevent the sting of her fingers or how cold her nose and cheeks were becoming. Salvatore was not bothered by this silence, she could tell from the way he continued smiling. Her eyes flickered, observing how his eyebrows were so thick and dark, just perfectly hanging over his equally dark squinted eyes. Some time ago, Delores came to the conclusion that brown eyes possessed a warmth that could not be found in icy blues.
She felt a flutter in her abdomen. It was not anxiety - just a light, thrilled flutter. It was as if her body was telling her, take this adventure. You know Salvatore. He was capable of violence and mischief, yes. But weren’t all men capable of heinous acts?
She opened the door. “Thank you…” she muttered while asking herself, why did she listen to her body? What could she and Winston’s friend possibly talk about during a thirty minute drive?
“Why didja act like I was going to kidnap you?”
“Because you can’t trust men.”
“How long have you known me, Dolly? I forgot.”
“I don’t know you.” She could not control her tongue the moment she heard his question, “I could recognize your face in a crowd, but your face is the only way I know you. You’re my cousin’s friend, not mine.”
She watched Salvatore make a series of expressions. Surprised, bewildered - the nothing. Though she huffed, embarrassment washed over her. A nagging thought entered her head of how Salvatore would take his foot off the pedal, halting the car once more and tell her to wait for the bus. Not all men are lecherous, she tells herself. Her personal bad experiences did not have a chance of being repeated time after time. Again, she told herself she knew this man she was now sitting beside. It was why she was in here.
“I wouldn’t do anything to you.” Finally, he speaks. Gentle, not offended. For that Delores feels relief.
“I know.” She wants to possess the same tone, “I was just saying that as a woman I have to be careful.”
“Wanna know somebody you shouldn’t ever accept a ride home from?”
“Who?”
“Mikey Amuso!”
“What’s so bad about him?”
“Well, not only did he kill his brother - I mean, supposedly firin’ a gun at his head - but he’s been using the same tactics to pick up girls since 8th grade!”
“What are those tactics?” Fingers gently rub against the smooth leather of her purse.
“I can’t say, Dolly!”
She squints, concerned. “...they’re that bad?”
“I want you to think of a guy who’s only consumed with gaining one thing no matter what. No matter how dumb or crazy it sounds. That’s Mikey.”
“Oh.”
“You think I’m that bad, Dolly?”
“No -” did she make him sound that bad? “I’ve seen the way you treat Naomi. Some men can’t be trusted with children - but you’re sweet to her. She thinks you’re her uncle...”
“I’m her white uncle!” When Sal beams with pride, Delores holds back her smile. “But no, really, I love that kid. I hope things get straightened out with her ma and Winston soon. I don’t think kids need t’grow up without their mothers in the picture.”
Suddenly, it was as if Salvatore had the key and unlocked something in her: she wants to talk about her past. She wants to talk about women who had to be her maternal figures, but in reality were incapable of having the same warmth and love as a mother. What she says? “...I don’t think so, too.” Her stomach growled, she shifted in shame.
“You hungry?” How she hoped Salvatore didn’t hear her body confess its desire for a warm meal.
“No.” How she could not believe her body betrayed her twice in one night.
“C’mon Dolly, what’re you bein’ shy for?”
“I'm not shy.” There she goes, Sal thinks, with that mighty tilt of her chin. “I can wait until I get home. That’s all.”
“Okay, so I’m supposed to drive a starving woman directly from Bensonhurst to Bed-Stuy?”
The thought of eating was appealing. However, caught in a mentality that belonged to her sixteen year old self: Delores labeled such an outing as forbidden. There was no one to scold her for arriving home perhaps twenty minutes late - additionally, there was no chance her grandfather’s ghost would appear to chastise her, calling her all sorts of vile, wretched names. But, Delores abruptly considered that maybe it was not a fear of doing the unusual that kept her in a rejective state.
Perhaps it was that crush on Salvatore she had as a mere girl, resurfacing once more. Yes, with more thought she could not deny it felt like the old crush that manifested itself as fear and intimidation was reintroducing itself tonight. As a result, Delores was caught between the frightening idea of being alone with him and caught in the throes of excitement at the very matter he was willing to do something so kind.
“I’m fine,” still ever the lady, she says this.
“Dolly, it’ll be my treat. If you wanna pay me back you can um...tell Leo to be nicer to me! Remind him that I’m the best Boxer in that place and he should give respect to my local contributions to the community!”
Delores wants to smile. She wants to smile and giggle at how seriously Sal took this idea. Not only that, but the idea of Mr. Impellizzeri being genuinely mindful and kind was laughable on its own. Trying to have control of whether the corners of her lips upturned or not, Delores presses her thighs close together. What she does allow is for her voice to hold clear charm: “I can do that for you, Sal.”
“You can!?”
A laugh nearly tumbles out of her lips. Sheepish, she gazes out the window. Observing all the bypassing buildings, counting each streetlight that guides them, “I can!”
Delores wasn’t sure if it was because Salvatore was Italian, or if she (despite her life and its teachings) was a child at heart. But, rolling through her mind was the thought of two dogs sharing a spaghetti kiss. Salvatore was rough, yet good-natured like Tramp. Delores - focused on the cold wind hitting at her neck and the stinging her ears instead of directly associating herself with a prim and proper cocker spaniel.
It was no restaurant Sal parked at, or a building that looked particularly Italian with neither name nor color scheme. It was what Delores deemed ‘American.’ An all-American diner.
“Ever been here before?”
“I’ve seen it,” when going to work, she does not add. For some reason this made Sal cackle.
“You’ve seen it?”
She brings her lips out into a pout. One small and subtle, undermined with her investigative gaze, but it was a pout all the same. “Yes…” What had been so funny to reduce Salvatore to fits of laughter?
“Hey Sal,” when a unibrowed man greets him with the casual lift of his hand, Delores wondered how often Sal came here. It must have been frequently.
“Hey, got a free table?”
“What? You’re too good to sit at the bar tonight? What’s goin’ on with you?”
“Nothin’s goin’ on with me! What’s goin’ on with you?”
As the two men bantered on, Delores found herself thoughtlessly holding her hands together. Never had she sat in an all-night diner before. She thinks of a painting - Nighthawks, where three customers sat at the desolate bar in the night. Granted, there was a surprising amount of people here, but the structure of the building was still the same in her eyes.
Delores snapped out of her thoughts, managing to catch how Sal wagged his finger for her to come and follow him.
“Hold it.” The same man who spoke to Sal outstretched his hand. For Salvatore, it was a greeting, for Delores it was break to stop. “I gotta seat you first.”
“No Adriano, she’s with me.” Sal swiftly says.
Delores caught how the realization settled on the busboy’s face before his apology came. She only brought herself to nod, following behind Salvatore feeling more glum than she cared to admit. It was not as though they were actually on a date, she thought. Sobered from her fleeting infatuation, Delores even became keenly aware the two of them hardly looked like they came from the same area. Salvatore had the privilege of being unphased, she assumed. Watching as he slid into the booth as if he had done so a million times. Delores, meanwhile moved almost refined. Poised.
“Get whatever you want,” he says, “as much as you want.”
“What are you getting?”
“What am I getting?” He repeats, with soft (mocking) surprise. “I’m getting a hamburger.”
“Oh…”
Was she disappointed? “We can go somewhere else if y’don’t like what you see,” unmoved, he briskly rose and lowered his shoulders.
“Salvatore.” Then, she looked at him. Not in a serious way, instead it was almost as if she was pleading in desperation. Saying with her eyes, ‘please, stop being so kind to me, you’ve done enough tonight.’ And if he continued on, she would what? Burst from his gestures?“We don’t have to do that...”
“Well,” he spins the ketchup bottle, “whaddya want to eat?”
Did she ever make her own decisions? Salvatore wondered as she grew even more flushed, clearly overwhelmed. Ironically, it made Salvatore want to rattle off with listing some of the best meals this place had to offer. The idea maybe she had never eaten in front of a man - or, that there could have existed invisible rules of what one could and could not eat when among a man, never crossed his mind.
“I would like steak…”
“I think I want steak too!”
With a nod, she let her teeth rest against her bottom lip. As if there were nothing better to do, she looked to the window. Promised snow had yet to come. If one did not look outside - their eyes truly trained on the atmosphere, then they would have missed the how specks of white fell from the dark sky.
Delores had a ribeye steak, well done. She also took a salad. Salvatore wanted what she was having, minus the salad. Instead, he treated himself to golden fries that had both plenty of crunch and salt. As time passed, Delores would find herself relieved at how Sal knew how to keep the conversation going. Between telling the waiter - Adriano, their desired meals, and awaiting them, he talked and talked and talked. His demeanor remained comfortable enough to bring herself to speak and contribute to the conversation.
“--I think you know more Italian than me, Dolly.”
“No I don’t,” toying with her tomato, she had far too much humility to even playfully accept her grasp on the language may have been superior. “It’s only a handful of phrases.”
“Look, y’just told me you was roommates with some Italian girl at your High School, and that y’even spent a weekend with her family! Then, you grew up around Giovanni - and y’even work Leo now! You know more than you think y’do!”
Bashful, honest, she shakes her head. “I don’t even get the chance to speak it,” she insists, “I just listen, and I make connections.”
“Well, y’know more than me-” when she shoots a stern gaze, he takes back his words: “-the same as I do.” He took back his words, somewhat. “Let me list off some words and you can tell me if you know ‘em or not - and don’t lie Dolly, be honest.”
“I will!”
“Okay…” he thinks, “Orrioppo!”
“Move faster?”
Hurry up was correct, but. He would not hold it against her. “Yeah, that’s right. Uh, Goombah!”
“Man.” Leone had used it when approaching other males, Granddaddy also used it - though with sneers. Due to this, Delores could not help but believe it was derogatory as a little girl. For all she knows, it still may be.
“Wazza mara you?”
“Hm?”
“I said, Wazza mara you?”
“I-I don’t understand.”
“Dolly! What’s the matter with you?”
“Oh…” she got it, finally. “Oh!”
He thought that what Delores would do upon realizing was smile, all hesitant and mousy. Or she would shake her head at him, he noticed enjoyed doing that. What happened was unexpected: Delores was laughing. But it was not free, no, within the seconds she realized it would not stop, she brought up her hand to stifle herself.
“Hey! What’re you doin’ that for?”
She looked unable to understand, “what am I doing?”
“Coverin’ your face! You have a pretty smile. What do you wanna hide it for?”
“I…” surely, if she had anything in her mouth she would have choked. “...I just don’t want to disrupt anyone…”
“Who cares about them?” His apathetic shrug left her breathless. “Huh? Who cares!” She felt the need to avert her eyes as his smile grew. He lifted his hand, having not one, but two fingers pointed at her, “that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you smile. Ever. In my life.”
She could not think of any appropriate way to reply. ‘I’ll smile more?,’ ‘I’m happy you think my smile is nice?’ there was just no way to do it without making some sort of mistake. Thus, as her last resort, Delores looked to the window only to grow surprised. Snow, plenty of snow was falling across Bensonhurst, “Oh look, Salvatore!”
Sal vah tore! His name sounded different when she was surprised, “it’s snowing!”
Though he lifted his heavy eyebrows, it did not interest him. He was grateful for the amount of faces he got her to make tonight, even if they were not from toe curling pleasure. The taboo nature of her remained lost on him, however he was willing to create more moments like this. All to get inside her, figure out what she was about when domineering men were not around.
Winston was going to be pissed. But he could not have thrown their whole friendship away. Salvatore figures it could have been worse for Winston: his cousin could be getting courted by a stranger. A greedy guy like Dino.
“Yeah!” He says for her, “it’s a November miracle!”
#( STORIES. )#( SALVATORE. / THE YOUTHFUL YEARS. )#( DELORES. / THE YOUTHFUL YEARS. )#( RE: SALVATORE AND DELORES. )
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season 4 first watch impressions
under the cut are my thoughts and my new overall series episode ranking (spoilers)
ep1 - uss callister
- by far my favorite of the season
- a perfect blend of comedy and tragedy
- i would have loved this as a full movie
- honestly nanette is amazing, like she owns her smarts and sexuality and never gives up i love her
- male coder: “it won’t work, i’ve already tried”
nanette: “well i haven’t” HELL YEAH
- i honestly loved all the ‘crew’ characters, even the gym rat boss
- i especially enjoyed the speech from the boss to robert, where he’s like ‘i acknowledge that i was an ass, but dude, YOU PUSHED MY SON OUT AN AIRLOCK’
- also the fuckin casual dialogue between the monster and bad guy and the crew
- OHHH BOY AND THE FACT THAT ROBERT’S GONNA ROT TO DEATH IN HIS APARTMENT BECAUSE HE PUT ‘DO NOT DISTURB’ ON HIS APARTMENT DOOR, HELL YEAH
- ‘oh my fuck’
- 10/10, watch it now
ep2 - arkangel
- preface: the kid playing young owen teague and his family were actually really close with my family when he and my little sister were kids. it was goddamn surreal to see that lil guy talking about porn when i remember him being, like, eight. but nice going nick, keep kicking ass lil dude
- okay so this episode was... conflicting
- the opener made sense, but in some ways i thought it was TOO obvious and indicative of the episode’s message and tone. i can’t help but wonder if it would have been better just starting like five minutes in
- her father looked like counselor healy from orange is the new black, so that was distracting
- okay jesus christ lady, i get that losing your kid is scary, but implanting her with ‘optional’ optic spying and censoring software is such a massive violation of her privacy. like, it’s one thing when she’s tiny, but how the hell are you going to feel okay with yourself as a parent when she’s an adolescent?
- the blocking especially pissed me off. that’s so fucking dangerous. either this woman is just very stupid, or very desperate
- at least the narrative established that it kind of was the latter. when her father gets sick, the mother has to care both for both her father and her child. that’s a lot. but still not an excuse for such mental violation of a quickly-growing human being
- young edgelord and sara are fucking adorable
- sara’s self-harm and rage issues are not, however,, and i’m glad that her mother took her head out of her ass and ditched the tablet
- is it just me or is fifteen-year-old sara kind of an idiot? like i get it she’s grunge and artsy, and i loved her giving a treat to the dog, but she seems to be almost hanging out with owen teague because he deals, and not despite it. like i get that i’m supposed to buy that their romance has kind of a subtext of him ‘teaching’ her about things, but like the underage sex and coke are kinda yikes. i feel like he definitely should have had more restraint, and although what the mother does is royally fucked, he and sara are also both to blame
- all right, so the smoothie motif. what a great narrative tool. the miscarriage pill was the most clever part of the episode. sara’s reaction was very well-acted, and the standoff between her and her mother was intense as hell
- i liked that sara’s rage issues remained into adolescence. i was glad that the tablet got wreckt, but i can’t help but wonder if it would have been more effective to have her rage-smash it prior to her mother coming come, leaving the pieces for her to find. the actual beating up of the mother with the tablet seemed to literal, too much sinking in the message. there were moments in crocodile and hang the dj that were the same way.
- the ending, with sara hitchhiking in some stranger’s truck, was very smart. the ambiguity of a young girl, on her own, hopping in some stranger’s vehicle, is powerful without much explanation. any parent would be horrified by this; that’s what i don’t think we actually needed to see the mother screaming sara’s name and bleeding to understand the horror of losing a child to the unknown
- this one definitely gives me the most complicated feelings of the season; on one hand, it had a lot of great devices going for it. on the other hand, it was over-written and at times trying too hard to be ‘black mirror.’ the grey morality and ambiguous ending reminded me of a literary short story, which i love in my TV.
- 7/10, watch it if you liked most black mirror episodes that weren’t san junipero
ep3 - crocodile
- ah yes, the ‘i watch black mirror to be fuckin ashamed of humanity’ episode
- idk man, i liked it. it was bleak, and fucked up, but i’m all about that downward spiral. i liked that the story kind of began in three different places and then tied together. just as i had with ‘hated in the nation,’ i love police procedural stuff
- also damn, it was freaky as hell to see the straight-laced white blonde soccer-mom type being a despicable murdering sociopath!!! like, gotta go kill an entire family of POC, including a goddamn INFANT, and then see my kid’s show, that’s great. i was so happy when she got what she deserved.
- all right, so i had one MAJOR PROBLEM with this episode: why the fuck did they make the son blind? the guinea pig twist was so GOOD, and mia fuckin killed a BABY, they didn’t need to further modify that!!! this is another example of black mirror doing just a tad more than it needs to make the audience feel horrible.
- okay black mirror, we get it, that song is your thing, but can you maybe slide it in as a less glaring easter egg?
- 8/10, but only if you’re into dark shit and bad endings
ep4 - hang the dj
- not nearly gay enough
- seriously, the entire episode i was unable to focus on the main characters because i kept looking around this Tinder-esque 20′s dating paradise and saw ZERO GAY OR LESBIAN COUPLES. i’m so surprised by this, especially after ‘san junipero.’ at first i was like, maybe this is like society’s way of encouraging procreation because of population decline, but that wasn’t the twist at all. no reason for nearly everyone to be hetero
- THAT BEING SAID, i see you. bi amy. even before the girl partner, i was aware that she used ‘they/them’ pronouns when referring to hypothetical partners. i just wish we could have seen more gay couples in the background (for example, at the choosing ceremony thing, it coulda been two dudes of something)
- uh okay, so everyone loved this episode, and it was okay. some of the banter and jokes were funny and relatable, but honestly, this wasn’t *that* good. the plot wasn’t super original (reminded me a lot of ep1 of hulu’s ‘dimension 404′) and the execution was kind of suuuuuuper basic. like, black suited Enforcers with tasers? a massive matrix wall? the whole thing seemed so predictable and just... basic as hell.
- but shit man, amy was cool. loved that character in a vacuum.
- honestly if someone could explain the reasons for loving this episode, i’d like to hear them. because i just don’t get it, man. maybe it’s because i’m gay, or young, or single, or unexperienced... but i just wasn’t very impressed
- 6/10, not even fuckin close to ‘san junipero’ lmao
ep5 - metalhead
- black and white seemed sort of pretentious, not gonna lie. i think i would have preferred the dirty palette of ‘white bear’ post-apocalypse
- i am all for these female protagonists this season. hell yeah
- soo those corpses in the bed were heavy, but i actually kind of wish we got to see more of that? like, the remains of humanity after the dogs attacked? also, more small explanations for the dogs’ attack would have been interesting
- loved the chase and fight scenes. i can see how they’d be boring, but the moments of conflict between man v. machine were fucking awesome
- K N I F E D O G
- anyone else get serious farenheit 451 vibes?
- the teddy bear thing was dumb. i don’t think we needed to see what was inside the warehouse. yet another time black mirror threw in just a little more than we needed
- okay so belle keeps alluding to the fact that she has safe family members out there somewhere, so am i to believe that there is some place where humans are safe from dogs? if so, why the actual fuck did she leave? i can’t believe it was just because of fuckin teddy bears
- alllllll the david lynch vibes
- 7/10, but you gotta actually pay attention to the visual details to get the best parts
ep6 - black museum
- BOOOOYYYYYYY! this entire episode i waited for the fuckin shoe to drop and then SHE! DID! THAT!
- the amount of callbacks to previous episodes was,, nice,, but also it was kind of annoying??? and unnecessary?
- the museum owner was reaaaaaalllly annoying, which is think was intentional. what a fuckin sleaze. in comparison, i thought that jon hamm in ‘white christmas’ was still a somewhat charismatic narrator, but this dude was just yikes
- so, the first story was... kind of a lazy reach? idk, it just felt kinda like a parody of black mirror itself. i get the entire ‘mad science’ vibe they were trying to evoke, but as opposed to the next story, this one had very little to say about human nature. black mirror works its best when it tells stories that use technology as a way to analyze humanity; this one really didn’t (we all already know we’ve got weird kinks)
- the second story was better, but, like, SUPER heartbreaking. poor carrie. i don’t think her husband should have done The Thing at all, honestly, I don’t believe that he couldn’t have seen what happened next coming. it’s like the arkangel mom again; either these characters are just SUPER present-oriented, or just fuckin dumb
- the most tragic moment in this season was ‘monkey needs a hug.’ i felt nauseous
- okay, now for THE TWIST! the accent drop was a great touch, and i loved that she was poisoning him the entire time. also fuck white men and supremacists, and fuck the museum dude for enabling them.
- the ending was great. i liked that her mom was chillin with her. the building blowing up was very tarantino. loved her a lot
- 8.5/10, boring in the beginning but the end is worth it
and now..
BLACK MIRROR EPISODES RANKED (AS OF SEASON 4)
1. U.S.S. Callister
2. Nosedive
3. Hated in the Nation
4. San Junipero
5. Fifteen Million Merits
6. Be Right Back
7. White Bear
8. White Christmas
9. Black Museum
10. Crocodile
11. Arkangel
12. Metalhead
13. Hang the DJ
14. Playtest
15. The Entire History of You
16. Men Against Fire
17. Shut Up and Dance
18. The National Anthem
19. The Waldo Moment
#black mirror#black mirror s4#sam reviews#uss callister#arkangel#crocodile#hang the dj#metalhead#black museum#bm
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WTFIT Chap 3
Here you guys go. Enjoy this chapter, I finally brought in one of my personal faves! :)
“Boy, it’s been a while.”
It’s the musty, toxic smell that hits Joker’s nose before he sees it. He inhales deeply. Ace Chemical Plant. His birthplace, if that’s what you call coming up from a vat of chemicals with almost no accurate recollection of a previous life. An abandoned building, so why does he notice moving beams of light as he comes into the view of the plant? He purses his lips. Flashlights. Wonder who’s home?
The first sound that hits him when he slips inside the building is orders being given.
“You better put that down! Mr. J doesn’t like when people touch his things.” The person’s voice is biting, her accent prominent.
Joker bites his lip. Harley. At this point he doesn’t know if she’s still mad at him. She stands on a platform, pointing, her teeth bared. She looks mad. A bit of persuasion and she’ll come back to his side, but it’s the moments before that he needs to look out for. No need to die when you’re this close to an ally. And Harley really doesn’t stay mad at him for long. So, how to confront her?
She keeps tossing out orders, though he has no idea what she’s doing here. If she isn’t here to take anything, there’s no reason for her to be at the plant. Unless…
“You know Two-Face’ll want his stuff intact, so be careful. Honestly, do I hafta do everything myself?” She rubs at her forehead in frustration. He takes this as his cue to go up and greet her. She has her back to him, and doesn’t even notice him until he’s only a couple feet away from her.
“Harley.” Joker walks over, noticing the shock in her eyes.
“You aren’t supposed to be here,” she says, her voice laced with irritation.
“Neither are you, Harls.”
The woman huffs, crossing her arms. “I’m still mad at you. I could shoot you right now, y’know.” Her fingers twitch, a nervous habit like his, and Joker knows how much she wants to reach for her gun. “I got your picture, by the way. Workin’ with Bats now?”
Joker shrugs, feigning indifference. “You know how it is. I’m a wild card.” He grins. “Besides, I saw a chance and I took it. But what are you doing working for old Two-Face?”
“None a’ your business,” she says, sticking her tongue out. “Just somethin’ to rile up Batman.”
Joker leans against the wall. “You could do that without Harvey. Without me, even.” It’s true, he hasn’t given Harley enough credit over the years. She’s almost at adept at causing trouble as he is. He feels a small glimmer of pride at that fact.
“Ivy wanted to. You know how it is.” Harley sighs, a faint smile on her face.
“True love is a bitch,” Joker comments. Harley’s smile grows bigger, a knowing glint in her eyes. Joker knows he’s won her over, for now at least.
“Isn’t it just. How is Batsy? Have you proposed yet?” Harley asks slyly.
Joker pouts. “He’s as righteous as ever. He doesn’t even want me to help, isn’t that awful?”
“You probably had to make a deal for you two to work together, didn’t you.” Harley doesn’t even mean it as a question. This is what true friendship is, gun threats, inside jokes, and knowing the other like the back of your own hand. Harley wouldn’t be here without Joker, but Joker also wouldn’t have come up with or executed such amazing plans without her. It stopped being a romantic thing years ago, it never would have worked between them. So tight-knit partners in crime it was.
“I couldn’t resist. I saw my chance and took it. You can’t imagine how good it feels having a hero on the other end of an open-ended bargain. He looked so torn between agreeing and locking me up.” Joker lets out a whooping sort of laugh, Harley joining him and wrapping an arm around him. It dies off, but Joker doesn’t want a comfortable silence at the moment. He wants answers. “So what are you really doing here?”
Harley finally gives in. “Oh, just storin’ some stuff. Harvey and Penguin need it for their shebang on Friday. Some big bash they wanna blow up, I’m sure you know. There was supposed to be more, I think, but those damn cops took it. Anyways Dent got Ivy and me to come along. We’re supposed to just wait here for now, guard the boxes. It beats stayin’ at Arkham, and besides, I was bored.” She smiles a bit too sharply. “Puddin’, you coulda helped me escape too, you know.”
Joker winces. “Harley, you know what I do is spur of the moment. I needed to get out fast, I wasn’t thinking. But I’ll make it up to you, how’s that?”
Harley just gives a short laugh. “That’ll be the day. We might be friends, but you sure don’t keep your promises. Don’t worry about it,” she adds. “I’m alright now.”
“Glad to hear it.” Joker, glances around, some men noticing him but turning their heads quickly. If Harley hasn’t shot him yet, it’s good enough for them, he supposes.
“You sure you don’t wanna help, Mr. J? I’m sure there’s something you can do.”
“I’ve got previous engagements. And besides, I don’t need other villains to blow up Gotham.” Joker smirks. “I’ll do it all on my own time.”
“Figures.”
“Where is Ivy anyway?” Joker drops himself onto a nearby seat, arms behind his head and reclining. Harley joins him, crossing her red and black clad legs, her skirt poofing up around her.
“Well, she was here a little while ago, but she’s probably at the gardens. Can’t stay away from her plants too long. She should leave Gotham, there’re barely any plants here. Go somewhere tropical maybe.”
“Would you go with?” Joker asks. He can’t imagine Harley wanting to leave, especially since she’s lived in New England her whole life. Tropics would be suffocating. At least in his opinion. Though he can definitely rock the beach look. Boy, was that a time.
“I dunno. Wouldn’t be too good for my makeup, though I wouldn’t need it over there, would I?” She sounds a little sad. “Imagine not causing a stir ever again. I mean, I still could, but who would I go up against? Aquaman?” She rolls her eyes. “I could do with just retiring there, I guess.” Then, realising what she’s saying, she straightens up. “Wait, what am I talkin’ about, retiring? I still got miles to go, and so does Ivy. Ick, here I am getting sentimental.” She cradles her face in her hand. “I got work to do, Puddin’. Call me if you need me, I’m always up for a laugh.” She pats him on the shoulder. “And get out of here, if Dent comes in and sees you the whole plant’ll be in a shambles.”
“Fine, fine.” He hops up, taking Harley’s hand. “Nice talking to you Harls. I’ll see myself out.” She winks at him, wiggling her fingers.
“Say hi to B-man for me!”
Joker can’t help the smile that frames his face.
*
It comes as a complete surprise to Bruce when Selina shows up, much like Joker had. Like meeting two hundred feet in the air was completely normal.
“You’ve seen the news, right?” She walks over to where he stands, a precarious vantage point about a dozen stories above the Batmobile. “All your friends are coming out to play.”
“And so have you?” Bruce asks, smiling despite the situation. If he has to, he might admit Selina is more friend than enemy, a thief with an eye for jewels and riches.
She rolls her eyes. “Hardly. Though I’ve noticed some jewelries are vacated. Covered in heavy iron doors, but how hard can getting through that be?”
Bruce doesn’t bother with words, but he thinks he does a decent job at giving her a withering look from under his cowl. Her shrewd smile reveals her mockery.
“Anyways, you think I’m gonna stay out here when all the crazies are running around? I’d rather survive to next week, thanks.”
He knows it’s a smart choice. Gotham is even more dangerous than usual. But he can’t help but ask, “You won’t help, then? You’re already out and about.”
“Hmm. Never been one for heroics, you know. And I just had a couple errands to run and saw you moping.” She steps up to Bruce, “Now, if you’re free afterwards, I might consider that,” her coy smile fades into a more serious look, “but I won’t risk my neck, Bruce.” Bruce shivers, it’s always strange when he hears people who don’t live with or work closely with him say his name. Like they’ve come upon a secret he’s tried so hard to hide, which just so happens to be the case.
“I understand. I don’t know the entirety of their plan though, so be careful.”
“I’ll be careful,” she reassures him. “Do you expect anything else of me?”
“Right. I’ll see you later, Selina,” he says.
“Bye. I’d give you some sort of clue, but you know, being a hero isn’t good for my constitution. Just make sure they stay out of the east end, yeah?”
“I’ll try,” Bruce says. How many half-baked assurances would he be making today? He loves his job, but he doesn’t deny it can get tiring.
He finds himself waiting on top of a roof for the GCPD to arrive with the dangerous cargo a few minutes later. Only he keeps waiting for them. And waiting. And finally, when he thinks they’ve arrived, he’s fooled by a lone patrol car coming back. An uneasiness comes to him. He comms Gordon. The only answer is the crackle of his radio, an unwelcome sound. He should have known this would happen.
He glides down when more police cars finally appear, the cars screeching the a stop.
“What happened?” He demands as the officers get out of their seats.
“It was Dent. He showed up with his thugs. We were outnumbered. They managed to take some of their crates.” Bruce nods, hoping they didn’t take the crates with toxins and uniforms. He can deal with guns and explosives, but up close and personal biological warfare was never one of his favorite situations. Too many risks. He walks to where Gordon gets out, nursing a bloodied arm and a black eye.
“I’m fine,” the commissioner coughs out when he sees Bruce. “I’ve been through worse. They were waiting for us, the sons of bitches.”
“I should’ve been there.”
Gordon shakes his head. “They’re not the only ones loose. We need eyes everywhere.” He’s right.
“You said Harvey was there? Was there anyone else?”
“With him? No. Lucky us,” Gordon says bitterly. “But I heard something’s going on around here too.”
“It’s been quiet for the most part,” Bruce says, hiding his confusion. “But I’ll check around. You should get that arm checked.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Gordon waves him off. His forehead is coated with a sheen of sweat, he’s in more pain than he lets on. Being stubborn is a trend in Gotham’s protectors, that much Bruce knows. He just hopes stubbornness isn’t what kills in the end.
*
For the most part, the rest of the night is uneventful. The thugs Oracle mentioned didn’t move from their location, and Bruce doesn’t see hide nor hair of Penguin, Two-Face, or any other criminals who could be on the loose. A quick message to Dick telling him they’ll keep this up tomorrow and he calls it a night. He returns to the manor at dawn, the sun’s rays just peeking out past the horizon, eyes straining. A quick wave to Alfred, who smiles at Bruce tiredly. One too many nights spent working.
Once in his room he sheds his suit, letting out a yawn of exhaustion. It’s impossible to stay upright. He collapses into bed and shuts his eye. He doesn’t bother with blankets. It doesn’t take much time till he’s out cold, lost in dreams.
And then blinding lights floods the room, accompanied by the soft swishes of drapes being drawn back.
“Would it kill you to let me sleep in?” Bruce groans, draping his arm over his eyes dramatically.
“Sorry, Master Bruce. But you do have a meeting at nine today.”
“It’s not like Lucius can’t take care of it himself,” Bruce mumbles. He lifts his gaze to look at Alfred. Alfred’s smile is apologetic, but one look at the bags under his butler’s eyes and Bruce relents. He isn’t the only one who has to deal with late shifts. “It’s okay. One of these days we’ll take a break, go on vacation.”
Alfred shakes his head. “That’ll be the day. I seem to remember your work tends to follow on your vacations.”
“Very true.” Bruce’s food sits on his bedside table, eggs and toast, coffee on the side. Nothing too fancy. Good. And oh gods. It’s black coffee. Nothing like a strong and bitter taste to wake up the senses. Exactly what Bruce needs. Thank the gods for Alfred.
As he gets dressed, he gets a reminder of the bullet that had hit him during the scuffle with Cobblepot and his men. Black and blue paints the upper left side of his back, tender when Bruce probes gently at it. That won’t be going away anytime soon. He pulls his arms through the sleeves of his shirt carefully, buttoning slowly. To think, he alternates between playing a charismatic, philanthropic businessman and a rough, take-no-shit vigilante. Good thing he wears a cowl. He wouldn’t want to be on TV with a black eye. Who knows what rumors the newspapers would spin up. They can definitely be creative.
Dick sits on the stairs as Bruce leaves his room, donning casual clothing for the day. He glances up at Bruce, raising a hand in greeting. “You look like shit.”
“You’ve looked better too,” Bruce retorts with a small smile. “No luck on your end?”
“Nah. Got in a few decent punches though. Mugger down on 6th street.”
“You up for it again tonight?”
Dick shrugs. “I’ll be well rested. I’m gonna eat, take a bath, and sleep the rest of the day.” Dick grins, daring Bruce to react jealously.
Bruce only raises an eyebrow. “That’s what’s wrong with your generation, isn’t it? Asleep all day, out all night.” He shakes his head and descends to the foyer, the car waiting out front, Dick sputtering indignantly after him. He’s missed having him around, he has to admit.
*
In the short span of two hours Bruce has discovered how to appear focused and interested while trying to figure out how to make time pass by faster. These methods include clicking a pen, leaning as far back in his chair without seeming unprofessional, and trying to communicate with Lucius Fox through facial expressions and varied amounts of shrugging. The first two he grows bored of relatively quickly, but starting a facial conversation is harder than it looks. Lucius is amused enough to indulge him at first, but Bruce thinks maybe some of their expressions are lost in translation. Unless Lucius meant to encourage him with a raised eyebrow and slight scowl. Oh well. Patience has to end somewhere.
“Mister Wayne, you might want to bring an Ipod if you aren’t paying attention to begin with,” Lucius confronts him at the end of the meeting, but his demeanor is back to relative contentment.
“I can’t believe they’ve been arguing over where to put a new library for over a month, Lucius. There are so many good places. Over in the East End would be perfect, people reading and getting off the streets.”
“You know how the board is,” Lucius says, cleaning his glasses. “They want it where it’ll make the most money. And the East End just doesn’t fit that bill. That aside...you have bags under your eyes the size of suitcases. Rough night?”
“Eh. Not really. Just been out too many nights. I’ll get some rest later.” Bruce waves off his concerns. “How have you been? Any additions to your works?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.” The two men head to Lucius’ headquarters/workshop to check out the latest additions for the batsuit. The room lights up once they step off the elevator, illuminating various prototypes and ideas for Bruce’s vehicles and suits. Towards the far end of the room sits a table with assorted computers, some papers scattered over the desk part. A small box sits on top of those papers, which Lucius picks up. Opening the box, he pulls out an item too small for Bruce to see. His friend reaches out. At Bruce’s interested look he gestures for him to hold his hand out. Lucius hands Bruce a tiny chip. Turning it over, Bruce inspects the translucent square, running his finger over the grooves.
“Insert that into your cowl. I’ve designed it to help enhance your infrared vision. No doubt you’ll be needing it, and besides you won’t need any night goggles.” Bruce smirks. He hasn’t used the goggles for quite some time, though with the regular infrared doesn’t reach as far. This will be a big help. Now he’ll be able to recognise when someone, or multiple people, are around him in the dark. Perfect.
“This is great, Lucius. Thank you.”
“I’ve got something else in the works too, just gotta put in some finishing touches. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
“I can’t wait to see.” He shakes hands with Lucius, saying his goodbyes. Alfred is waiting outside Wayne Tower with the car, and he doesn’t want to keep him waiting too much longer. The lobby of the tower is relatively empty and quiet. Only a few footsteps echo on the linoleum, the receptionist smiling as Bruce passes by. He returns the smile briefly, walking towards the door.
“Oh, Mr. Wayne?” The receptionist calls behind him, and he pauses.
“Yes?”
She reaches for a slip of paper at her desk. “Someone wanted to give you this while you were at your meeting. I kept it for you.”
“Oh,” Bruce takes the paper from her. “Thank you, Cora.” He opens the paper as he walks, the spidery scrawl on the slip familiar.
Hello, darling.
It seems you have a few more problems to deal with than you thought. Meet me at the cafe across your tower. I know you won’t disappoint.
Xoxo
Bruce crumples up the paper. A sinking feeling settles in his gut. The car is just in front of him, he’s so close to going home for a rest…
He taps on the car window. “Alfred, I’ll be just a bit longer.”
“If you insist, sir. I haven’t finished my novel yet anyway.” Alfred waves his paperback at Bruce, a bookmark stuck between the pages.
“Alright. I’ll be back.” Bruce heaves a sigh, unbuttoning his coat and fisting and unfisting his hands. The cafe in question taunts him across the street. He can’t see anyone he recognises through the glass. Might as well just go in and get it over with.
Inside the cafe is softly lit, piano music playing as background noise. The soft murmur of conversation wafts through the air, dark yellow walls covered in painted flowers. Not a place Bruce would frequent. Why would Joker pick such a place? And where is he?
Oh. A look to the left and there, in the farthest corner booth. Though he wears a darker hoodie, he’s still the most colorful person in the room, with his bright green sneakers and technicolor sunglasses. So much for trying to blend in. At least his hair is hidden, Bruce thinks to himself. And his skin doesn’t look paperwhite like usual. Makeup, Bruce assumes. He almost looks... normal. But it’s Joker, and the fact that Joker knows who he is still unnerves him to the point of wanting to walk the other way.
He slides into the seat across from the undercover clown, keeping his voice steady. “I hope you have good information.”
Joker lowers his sunglasses just a smidge, toxic green eyes focused on Bruce’s dark blue. “Have something better to do now? What does the great Bruce Wayne do on his down time, I wonder,” he says, voice low. He toys with the straw of his milkshake, purple nails clashing with the bright yellow tube.
Bruce frowns. “I’m here for information, you-”
“Hi, what’ll you be having. Oh, you’re Bruce Wayne, aren’t you?” A waitress interrupts him, his voice dying in his throat. He glances at Joker, who hides his smile by taking a sip of his drink. He won’t be getting any help from him.
“Hi.” He flashes her a charming smile, turning on his usual billionaire playboy persona. “I’m new here, sorry. What would you recommend?”
“Well, I don’t know what you like, Mr. Wayne.” The waitress holds her notebook a little tighter. Her name tag reads Iridian. She’s young, and somewhat inexperienced. It must be her first job. Maybe even her first week. Bruce decides to make her a little more comfortable.
“I don’t know, what’s your best coffee?”
“I’d have to say it’s our mint caramel latte. But it might be too sweet for you-”
“It’s perfect. Thanks.”
“No problem.” She’s obviously flustered, it isn’t every day a billionaire comes into a cafe, but she writes the order down quickly. “Is that all?”
“Actually, Iridian dear, Brucie and I would like the special. It’s cheesecake, right?” Joker pipes up. Bruce shoots him a look, which he ignores.
The waitress nods, not knowing whether to look at his bright glasses or at the wall behind him. For a second Bruce thinks she’ll recognise him, but she’s oblivious. “Yeah. You want two?”
“Sure. Thank you,” Joker smiles sweetly as the waitress leaves. He drinks the rest of his milkshake, pushing the glass aside. “I never thought I’d see your act in person. You charmer,” he croons. He rests his head on his hands. “Never been here before, huh? It’s a shame, the food here really is good. Walls need a little more color, but ya can’t win them all, right?”
Bruce forces himself to get comfortable. “The information? I’m not here for idle conversation, Jo-.”
“John.”
“What?” Bruce leans back slightly, an eyebrow raised.
“Right now? Call me John. More inconspicuous, don'tcha think? Not many people are called Joker, are they? And relax, live a little. What, you actually enjoy being cooped up all day?” Joker takes off his glasses, shoving them in his pocket. His eyes are on display for the world to see, yet no one even looks his way.
“Generally.”
“Geez, your whole life is an act, isn’t it. Know what I think?”
“I really don’t care what you think.”
“I think you would much rather be at home, petting a dog and reading by the fire. During the day at least.” Ridiculous. Bruce doesn’t even own a dog.
The waitress comes back to deliver their order. As she places the cheesecake in front of him, Bruce realises Joker was right, it really does look good. Joker takes a big bite of the cheesecake, and the sound he makes at the taste is almost obscene. Bruce wants to hide, fighting the urge to pull his collar up and over his face. Joker notices this, of course he does.
“Aw, you’re blushing!” Joker laughs. Bruce wants to jump off a building. “Come on, just try the cake. It’s delicious.”
Bruce takes a tiny piece, spooning it into his mouth. He has to fight the urge not to make the exact same sound the man across from him just made. It’s like an explosion of flavor on his taste buds, sweet and creamy and chocolatey. Joker grins in delight at his expression.
“I told you!” He quickly spoons the rest of his cheesecake into his mouth.
It’s almost like a casual outing. Bruce relaxes a bit more, Joker is his more manic, cheerful self at the moment. He figures he won’t pull out a knife anytime soon. Still.
“Jok-John. We’re not here for food and-”
“Here.” Joker shoves a spoonful of cake into Bruce’s mouth before he can react. Bruce can’t even get mad as the taste floods his mouth. Joker’s smile can’t possibly get any wider at this point, like a child on Christmas morning. He rubs his hands together.
“Okay, now I’ve had my fun. So I saw Harley yesterday. Won’t tell you where just yet, but I can tell you in all the chaos that happened at Arkham, more of your friends escaped. I wouldn’t be surprised if it looked like a ghost town at this point. Stuff I’m sure you know, right?” Well, yes, but Bruce lets Joker continue. “Harv and Oz are storing a bunch of stuff all over Gotham though. He’s got people guarding them.”
“And?”
“And... I got some of the locations.” It’s like a card reveal, Joker keeping Bruce on the edge of his seat.
“Really?”
“Yup!”
“Where are they?” Bruce asks, leaning forward in his chair. Joker mimics him, meeting his eyes conspiratorially.
“...Where would we be if I made it that easy, Bruce?” Joker’s voice is soft, his eyes glittering in amusement.
Wait.
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Pitch 25
So this chapter is for the Anon who requested #25. It’s just a cut. I’m fine.
This chapter started out mostly about Ginny getting hurt and Mike being there for her, but at some point I just kept getting stuck, and so I shifted the focus a bit as the story progressed to some of Mike’s family-related issues.
Read on Ao3.
Sonofabitch. Stupid, self-centered, jackass sonofabitch. That’s what Mike Lawson was.
And this was all his damn fault.
“Shit, Ginny. Shit. You need to stop. You need–fuck.” Sonny was trailing behind her with a Padres towel, trying to hand it to her to staunch the bleeding. He hadn’t noticed her pick-up the dish towel off the counter and wrap it around her left hand after she dropped the knife on a hiss.
“It’s just a cut. I’m fine.”
“You’re not…” he trailed off for a second and yanked Livan, who had been taking a call in the hallway, along with them as he followed along behind Ginny. “Go get Skip. Tell him Ginny cut herself. Then get the first doctor you can find.”
“Jesus, Mami.” Livan fell in step beside them and tried to take hold of her hand, but she yanked it away and nearly bashed her elbow on the wall.
“I’m fine.” She huffed as she stopped short of entering the clubhouse locker room to keep the rest of the team from seeing her. Warily, she started to unwrap the towel before Sonny’s hands covered hers and he nodded to Livan once again.
“Get Skip. Now.” As Livan took off across the room Sonny gingerly released her hand, but kept his eyes focused on her. “Don’t take it off until someone tells you to. I’m not kidding, Rookie.”
Ginny narrowed her eyes at him and said, “Not a rookie, and I haven’t been for more than two years. Anyway, since when do you call me that.”
“Since you’re acting like one. Running around breaking glasses in your hand.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose.” God, that sounded like a childish whine even to her own ears and Sonny must have noticed it to because he just raised his eyebrows and glared at her.
“Yeah, well, that doesn’t make it better, She-Hulk. What happened?”
She started to reach up to scratch at some imaginary itch on her shoulder and remembered that he had just told her to keep the towel wrapped around her hand. “Nothin’.”
“Yeah. Nothin’. So was it the gossip report?”
“What gossip report?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Baker. The report that Salvi’s had running all morning talking about our ex-catcher and the blonde he’s been seen out with. There was a time that wouldn’t be all that interesting, but since he retired…” Sonny trailed off and pinned her with a knowing stare.
“Why should I care he’s doing? He’s retired and allowed to do whatever he wants with whoever he wants. Not my problem.”
“Yeah? Guess I lost the bet then.”
“What bet?”
“I had you two married within two years of him retiring.”
“Are you–” She trailed off for a moment, laughed. “Are kidding me? You guys bet on us?”
“We bet on everything, Baker. You know that. Anyway, there are tons of them. When ya’ll will have kids. How many? I’ve got one girl in five years.”
“You’re lying. You’re just trying to take my mind off my hand.”
“Am not. Anyway, here comes Skip.”
———————————-
When there was a knock at her locker room door nearly six hours later she was sitting with her hand carefully bandaged, silently lamenting the three-to-one loss against the Rockies, and cursing herself for being dumb enough to get injured on a day she was supposed to start.
Blip, Sonny, and Savli – who already apologized like a million times for letting the gossip report run all day – had already tried to talk to her so she figured that it was probably Livan’s turn. “I’m okay. I don’t want to do the ‘Mami, everything will be fine’ thing right now. Go away.”
The door opened anyway and she started to laugh at Livan’s inherent need to do the opposite of what he was told when the beard, of all things, caught her attention. Definitely not Livan.
“Who let you back here?”
Mike laughed and casually leaned against the door jamb as if he owned the place. As if he was still the captain of the Padres and not a civilian asshole who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. (Not that, that was any of her business.) “I used to work here, Rookie. I’ve got connections.”
“You screw the cleaning lady too?”
“The cleaning lady is a team of like fifty men, Baker. That’s sexist, and anyway, not even I have that sort of stamina.”
“Really. Never stopped you before.”
“Well, I’m not the man I used to be.”
“Coulda fooled me.”
He ignored the jab and nodded to her hand. “What’s the prognosis? Is it a career-ender?”
Her eyes narrowed and then rolled. Blip, the traitor, must of already talked to him, otherwise he wouldn’t have been so flippant asking about it. “No. It’s superficial. Dr. Rohm says I’ll probably only have to miss this game…maybe the next if it heals slow. Oscar’s handling the press release right now. He didn’t want to make the announcement right after the game because they were worried people would think I could have played and chose not to.”
She shrugged as if it didn’t matter, but he could see the annoyance shining behind the feigned indifference. “We lost a game we should have won. My fault.”
“Bullshit. It was an accident.”
“A stupid accident. If I hadn’t…” She trailed off and looked up at him from under her eyelashes. “There’s just no excuse.”
“Yeah…” No excuse for his behavior or hers, he wondered. “You wanna talk about this?”
“About what?”
“Goddamn,” he laughed, but she could tell from the tone it was more annoyance bubbling over than actual amusement. “You are the most stubborn woman I have ever met. Are you not even going to ask?”
“Would it make you feel better if I did? Ginny Baker still panting after Mike Lawson even though you’ve all but ignored me in the eight months since you retired, but you got your ring, right? And that’s all you really needed.”
“We did weeks of press together and I tried to talk to you. I called you after the final curtain call and tried to talk to you. How long was I supposed to wait?”
“Apparently not that long since you disappeared off the face of the planet after that and didn’t show back up until two months ago. I guess I should be impressed it took you this long to be seen out with someone.”
“She’s my sister.”
He said it so matter of fact that for a moment she wondered if he was just searching for a joke to ease the tension in the room, but the look on his face wasn’t amusement. He was serious. “You don’t have a sister.”
“You know I do, Gin.”
“I…” She stopped for a moment and shuffled through her memories of Mike Lawson - everything she knew about him. Everything she thought she knew about him. It wasn’t until she zeroed in on one night when they were talking about Will and how hard it must have been for him to be “The Ginny Baker’s” older brother that she figured out what he was talking about. “Your father? She’s his daughter?”
He scrubbed his hands down his face. “Yep.”
“That’s…Shit, Mike. That’s…” What was she supposed to say here? She wasn’t sure of the proper congratulations you’ve connected with your dead-beat dad’s other kids etiquette.
And goddamn, suddenly she realized just how weary he looked. She reached for the extra chair she kept in her locker room and shoved it in his general direction, “Sit down.”
“Yeah?” His face lit up in a surprised smile that reminded her of a little boy.
“Yeah. Sit. Talk to me.”
“So you’re not mad anymore?” He asked as he dropped into the chair.
“Not about this…about other things though so don’t get too comfortable on my good side.”
“Of course not. What do you want to know?”
“Everything. How did you find her? Why did you find her? Have you talked to him…your father? I mean, geez Mike, this is huge.”
“I didn’t find her,” he leaned forward so his elbows could rest on his knees and she matched his position so their faces were maybe a foot apart as he relayed the story. “She found me. After we got back from all the World Series press stuff my agent said some woman called claiming to be my sister and that she waited until I retired to reach out so I’d know it wasn’t about, you know, about me being Mike Lawson.”
“And that was her? Your sister.”
“Yeah. She said–she said she’s known for about ten years. Caught her parents fighting about it right before they split up. At first she didn’t want anything to do with me and then her mom died of breast cancer a couple years back, and I guess she started thinking about the fact that she had another brother out there in the world.
“She’s, uh, she’s nice. She’s a nurse and her husband is a lawyer. They’ve got a couple of kids – a boy and a girl.”
“So you’re Uncle Mike now?”
“Hey,” he feigned offense. “I’ve been Uncle Mike for years, Rookie. Don’t you forget it.”
Ginny laughed. Thought about Marcus and Gabe and how much he loved them and how great he was with them. And then she thought about how sometimes when all the team families were spending time together hanging out he’d look so damn lost and alone. “Never. So, what else?”
“What else do you want to know?”
She started to say everything, but there was something else there, hidden under the happiness. And it made her wonder… “What about your father?”
“What about him?”
“Mike,” she reached out and took his large hands in her own smaller ones. She gently rubbed calluses that were probably permanent fixtures on the sides of his fingers and waited until his temper was smothered before nodding her head to urge him to continue.
“Haven’t seen him. His other son either. We were waiting and then I got careless after we had dinner the other night to discuss it, and now…I don’t know. She’s good, but her brother is pissed off. Which, you know, makes sense. Right?”
Her brother. She wondered if he even realized he created that separation between his sister’s family and his own. “I guess. Maybe. How are you doing with all of this?”
“You know me, always easy going.” He turned her hands over in his and ran his fingers over the bandage on her palm. “Does it hurt?”
“Nope. How about you?”
He dropped his head and whispered his response, “Little bit.”
“Tell me what you need.”
“Don’t be mad at me, Gin. I screwed up, okay? I didn’t give you time and a ran away, but just…don’t tell me I lost my chance.”
“Look at me.” She waited for him to look her in the eyes. “I am mad. You did screw up and if you’d come and talked to me then you would have realized that I just wanted to wait for all the media attention to die down. But I could have come to you too. So that’s on me. You didn’t lose your chance though. I’m here.”
“Yeah?”
“Where else would I be?”
“I bet Drake is still interested.”
She laughed and stood up, yanked him up with her. “I’ve got an idea.”
“Uh huh?”
“A great idea. You take me out tonight. Maybe subtly let your hand fall around my waist. Hold my hand at the dinner table, and take some of the pressure off of your new sister’s shoulders so people aren’t stalking her everywhere she goes. How’s that sound?”
His narrowed and he shook his head. “You don’t want to talk to Amelia about this?”
“Why? You think she wants to come too. I mean, it might be a little awkward have your new girlfriend out with an old girlfriend, and I don’t think Oscar would appreciate it, but if that’s how you want to play it…”
“Ginny,” he pulled her around. Framed her face in his hands. “I’m serious. This is a lot and I don’t want to push you into something you’re not ready for.”
“I’ve been ready for months, Old Man.” She leaned forward and let her lips drift over his for a moment before tilting her head and lightly kissing the corners of his mouth.
When she started to step back he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her forward. He let his mouth linger over hers for a moment to give her time to pull away and when she didn’t he leaned forward and press his lips to hers. It only took a moment for her to open her mouth and a moment longer for him to deepen the kiss, exploring the taste of her, the softness of her lips, the texture of her tongue with his before he pulled back.
“So…” He was as out of breath as he had been after his first kiss and felt slightly embarrassed about it. “You said something about making out with you at a dinner table and talking you into coming over to my place tonight, right?”
She grinned as she pulled away and walked towards the door, “I’m pretty sure that’s not what I said, but you can keep dreaming.”
He followed behind her, watched intently as her calf muscles, thighs, and glutes tightened and untightened under her stretch pants as she took each step. “Oh, I will.”
Her groan floated back towards him as she turned the corner and without her there to distract him momentarily he focused back in on something else she said. “Hey,” he called after her as she quickened her pace, dancing away from his roaming hands, “why would Oscar care if I took out Amelia.”
He was pretty sure her answering laugh carried through the whole damn clubhouse and it didn’t stop until they were nearly out to his car.
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