#//beams poor sense direction on the cog

[ask-rainmaker-and-witchunter]

//I MADE IT YE OLDE TOONTOWN

and omfg, i can suddenly understand how Prester, if true, got fuckin lost in the damn area. I walked in expecting stuff like Barnacle Boatyard and Toontown Central, got greeted to a huge area with streets with enough allyways that im sure to get lost without the map!

Also found Prester boss area, sad his has no music tied to it :(. also sir why the fuck is your boss area...above...THE TROLLEY????

[wander-over-the-words]

Like Roses and Clover

Summary: At the end of the fairytale, the knight in shining armour usually gets a kiss from his beloved. Delta wonders what it’d be like to get one from his.

Characters: Augustus Sinclair, Subject Delta; mentions of Splicers, Little Sisters, Eleanor Lamb, Big Daddies, Frank Fontaine, Sofia Lamb.

Pairings: Augustus Sinclair/Subject Delta (somewhat one-sided? If only because the fic’s in Delta’s point of view, so Sinclair’s side of things isn’t expanded on. Can be one-sided, can be unknowingly requited, whatever you want).

Warnings: mentions of starvation, blood drinking, murder, body horror, slavery, human experimentation.

Notes: Remembered I wrote this ages ago. Decided to clean it up and post it.

All material belongs to Irrational Games.

Fic available on AO3.

…

Augustus talks a lot. It’s the excuse Delta uses to blame his observations on. 

He talks a lot, and when Delta listens to him, he likes to look at him because not doing so would be rude. It might make Augustus think Delta isn’t listening, which isn’t true. Since Delta has this big helmet on his head, he knows it’s hard to tell where his gaze is directed, so he makes a point of staring right at Augustus when he talks, so Augustus knows he’s paying attention.

Well, looking at Augustus has somehow evolved, from looking at him to...looking at him. And Delta feels like that makes sense because, well - you stare at somebody long enough, you start...noticing things about them. And maybe, once you’ve hung around that somebody long enough as well, in a post-apocalyptic city where this somebody seems to be the only one who doesn’t want to kill you on sight, you might start...feeling things, for that somebody.

That makes sense, doesn’t it? Delta likes to think that makes sense.

Augustus is talking right now - because of course he is - and Delta is staring, but this time, he isn’t listening. He was, at first, but now he isn’t, and Augustus’s voice has faded into a steady “blah, blah, chief, blah, blah, blah, blah, sport, blah, blah, blah” in Delta’s head. 

It’s rude, he knows, not to pay attention, but he can’t help it; Delta is far too distracted by his own thoughts and for once, he’s glad of his condition. Between the helmet and the mangled vocal chords, Delta’s thoughts remain a secret, which is fantastic because he wants nothing more than for Augustus to never discover the things he’s thinking about.

Getting down to brass tacks: Augustus is a handsome man. Delta’s not going to pretend he isn’t. He’s all rounded edges, nothing straight-edged or firm. Softness in his cheeks and his chest and around his waist and his thighs. Cushy. Welcoming. Attractive. All of him is attractive.

His face, in particular. Even Rapture’s harsh treatment can’t take away Augustus’s good looks. His cheeks have begun to hollow somewhat, thanks to the lack of good food in Rapture, but there’s still fat pocketed in them, keeping them plush and pliable, and there’re dark marks under his eyes from the poor sleep schedule the city’s got him on, but they don’t detract at all from his overall appearance. If anything, they - combined with the shadowy dusting of facial hair on his jaw and around his mouth and under his nose - give him a certain level of roguishness, like a scar on his otherwise gentlemanly appearance. Appropriate, for somebody who’s managed to survive this long in this underwater hellhole.

His eyes are coloured hazel, and even with Rapture trying to beat him down, they light up when he looks at Delta, they show the joy that Augustus hasn’t let Rapture take from him. Hell, when Delta laughs at something he says, Augustus downright beams. Delta sees the thoughtful alertness in them when he makes a noise because the cogs in Augustus’s head are turning to translate Delta’s attempt at speech, and then the joy comes back when Delta confirms that he’s successfully figured out what Delta is telling him.

Delta’s always thought his eyes are...pretty. A beautiful, warm brown with flecks of gold in them. They’d been the first thing Delta had looked at, once Augustus had popped out of his bunker in Ryan Amusements and jogged over to Delta on the platform - and not just because Augustus had drawn attention to them, by telling Delta, “I like to look a man in the eye when I give him my word.”

His nose is perfect, his ears and chin are perfect, and his eyebrows are perfect, too. The latter are thick but neat, just like the hair on the top of his head, which Delta’s always thought looked so soft. He’d like to feel it; he’s touched it before, when he’s petted Augustus’s head to comfort him after he’d been frightened by Splicers, a classic ‘there, there’ gesture as an attempt at lifting Augustus’s spirits. He hadn’t felt the texture of his hair through his glove, though. He’d like to, should they ever succeed in removing him from this suit. Delta believes they will; Augustus has given his word, and Delta trusts him with his life. 

And his lips, well…Delta’s embarrassed to admit it, but they’re what he thinks about the most. Why he chooses to blame his staring on Augustus’s amount of chatter.

Augustus’s lips are plump and look as soft as the rest of him, with a reddish hue to them. There’s minimal damage to them - perhaps a little dry, a wee bit cracked, but the most intact pair of lips Delta has seen when most of everybody else has spliced to hell and back and their mouths have melted into their faces, or been reduced to gaping maws. Yet more perfection.

Delta has watched those lips flap as Augustus has talked, has seen them peel back over a grin of pearly whites, has watched them turn upwards in fond smiles. They’ve pressed together in discomfort as Augustus had observed the newest Little Sister Delta had adopted drink down blood. They’ve turned downwards and crinkled in fear when a Splicer had cornered him, just before Delta’s furious roar had sent them packing, and then those lips had pinched at one end in disturbance when Delta had bludgeoned the Splicer into pulp (even going near Augustus is - as far as Delta’s concerned - a crime fit for execution). He’s watched them close around crème-filled cakes and pep bars, watched Augustus’s tongue swipe across them to clean off syrupy juice after finishing a can of fruit chunks Delta had managed to find for him, just before Augustus had retrieved his handkerchief to properly wipe them, ever the Southern gentleman.

Right now, they’re pulled forward slightly in a light, casual purse as Augustus uses his cigarette holder, which then results in the delicate ‘o’ shape as he removes the holder and gently breathes out the smoke. And then they’re back to flapping as he talks, completely oblivious to the fact that Delta isn’t paying attention to his words anymore.

He finds himself looking at those lips more often than even he’d like to, before he catches and berates himself for what could be inappropriate behaviour. Augustus isn’t a slab of meat to salivate over, after all...but behind the helmet, he supposes Augustus has no idea as to exactly where he’s been staring. If he does, he’s been very casual about it.

It all gets Delta thinking, though, about when Augustus had first spoken to him - before they’d met in person, back in that first train station.

(“Well, look at you…a bona fide knight in armour - complete with iron horse.”)

He’s a knight in armour. Not a scary, underwater monster, not a mindless golem, but a knight in armour - and at the end of the fairytales in which knights in armour star, they get kisses from their rescued princesses, from their damsels in distress. From their beloveds.

Augustus is no princess (if anything, Eleanor is the princess Delta is on his way to rescue, which seems appropriate - she’s Daddy’s little princess). No, Augustus’s role as Delta’s guide and assistant means he’s more like the squire to Delta’s knight (which makes his title of Esquire all the more fitting) - but he has been in distress. When he’d been locked in his bunker in Ryan Amusements, too vulnerable and scared to walk out into the park without protection; when he’d been cornered by Splicers and needed Delta to run over, bat them aside and push Augustus behind him, to stand between him and danger; when he’d been trapped in the leaking train car in Dionysus Park and could only wait for Delta to flip the switch and save him. Delta won’t call him a damsel, but he’s been in distress, and Delta hesitates to call him his beloved because, well, because they aren’t involved like that.

Augustus does him a favour, treating him like a man instead of the big, scary, armoured slave he must appear to be, but nobody’s ever heard of anybody romancing a Big Daddy nor a Big Daddy romancing anybody. Delta’s always imagined the premise of such a thing would make Augustus laugh. He doesn’t want Augustus to laugh at him.

Still, he...he imagines it sometimes. What it might be like to kiss him. To feel those plump, soft lips against his own mouth.

Does he even have lips, under this helmet? He doesn’t know what state his face is in, he’s never seen himself and he can’t remember what this ‘Johnny Topside’ had looked like. He wants to think he has lips - functioning lips - but who knows what’s going on under this dome, what those scientists did to him, if his splicing has affected him the same as it has everybody else? He could have a Splicer’s maw under there, for all he knows.

It makes him imagine Augustus’s disgusted face, then his frightened one, and that makes Delta’s heart just plummet. Doesn’t want Augustus to be disgusted or frightened of him.

Delta pushes aside thoughts about his own face to think about Augustus’s. Augustus’s handsome, normal face. 

The way his eyes might go half-lidded and flick their gaze down at Delta’s mouth and then back up to Delta’s eyes, motioning to what he’d like to do, silently asking Delta for his consent, for the go ahead - and, of course, Delta would be doing the same thing, to ask for consent too, to give his own. The way a hazy red might wash over Augustus’s soft cheeks, spread over his nose, grace the tips of his ears, maybe even reach his hairline or his neck, and Delta would feel heat in his own face, might even feel it radiating off of Augustus’s. The lean in, the light purse of Augustus’s lips, the way his eyes might slowly shut - and that’s where Delta stops imagining the visuals because that’s when he would close his own eyes to savour the kiss, the feeling of those lips against his, the light press of Augustus’s nose against his cheek, the smooth skin of Augustus’s cheek touching his own nose (if he has a nose).

Augustus would have to go up on to his tiptoes to kiss him if they’re standing, and Delta would have to bend his knees and lean down. If that’s the case, then Augustus’s hands would probably go to his chest, splay his fingers across Delta’s covered pectorals, maybe even feel the thumping of his heart under the fabric and leather of his suit. 

His own hands, he’s not sure what he would do with them, what would be most comfortable. Maybe he could hold Augustus’s waist, over the sloped curves, the soft flesh. Maybe he could put one hand on Augustus’s back, the other on his cheek, cupping it delicately - if that would work, of course, because Delta’s hands are huge. Big enough to cover Augustus’s face and still have enough length of his fingers to curl over into Augustus’s hair. He wouldn’t want to make Augustus uncomfortable, if he at all finds Delta’s mitts intimidating. 

Wherever he puts his hands, it doesn’t matter - there might then come the break, the pull away. He imagines opening his eyes slowly as he returns to Earth from Heaven and finding Augustus with his eyes open already, soft and slightly glazed over. He imagines Augustus smiling at him charmingly, which would make Delta want to kiss him all over again. Augustus might then rest his forehead against Delta’s, he can almost imagine perfectly the gentle pressure against his own head. He imagines the sunlight catching in Augustus’s eyes, making them sparkle even brighter - because of course, this would all happen out in the sunshine, with Rapture far behind and below them, that’s the point.

As he unconsciously leans toward Augustus now, making the bench creak distantly beneath himself, he wonders if Augustus would let Delta hold him, if he would let Delta quite literally whisk him off his feet. That might make the kissing easier, actually, now that he thinks about it. If he and Augustus were closer to eye-level. He could wrap his arms around Augustus’s waist and lift him while Augustus holds his shoulders, getting a little bit of height over Delta for once, so Augustus could lean down rather than up. Or Delta could cradle him bridal-style, all cosy and snug against Delta’s body. He’d like to, if Augustus would ever let him.

He doesn’t want Augustus to laugh at him, but he’s got to laugh at himself, picturing this all like it’s actually going to happen. Like there’s any chance of Augustus wanting anything like that from him. He may not be a monster, like everybody calls the rest of his ‘brothers’, but he’s still...monstrous. He doesn’t need a mirror to know something must be off under here. 

Besides - how very bold of him to think that, even if - by some miracle - he’s completely fine under here, Augustus would want anything from him anyway. To think Augustus hands his heart to somebody he’s known for only a few hours, with all his expertise in interacting with his fellow man, in assessing character and choosing partnerships, compared to Delta, who’s freshly back from the dead, practically rebirthed, and in a land he no longer knows, willing to hand his trust and companionship to anybody who won’t want to kill him. He must seem like some sort of puppy, following after Augustus and going all dewy-eyed when Augustus looks at him. He must seem so emotionally immature - and of course, Augustus doesn’t want somebody like that at his side.

“I, uh…got somethin’ on my face, sport?”

Delta jolts as he’s taken out of his thoughts; he’d been so deep in them, he hadn’t noticed that not only had Augustus stopped speaking about a minute ago, but just how far toward Augustus he’d really been leaning, practically looming over him. Completely missed the way Augustus had done a double take at him and leaned away to reclaim some personal space, staring bewilderedly over his smoking cigarette.

Eyebrow raised, Augustus blinks at him twice, watching him, and that makes Delta’s nerves pick up - as if there’s any way for Augustus to know what he’d been pondering. 

Hurriedly, Delta sits back in his seat properly with his hands clutched sheepishly in his lap, thumbs twiddling, his stare going to the floor rather than Augustus’s mouth. With a soft, dismissive grunt, Delta reaches over and pats Augustus’s knee twice to tell him not to worry about it, then returns that hand to his lap to continue twiddling his thumbs.

Augustus looks at Delta's hand, then back up at Delta’s covered face, one of his own hands going back to holding his cigarette holder to his mouth. Now that Delta’s out of his personal space, Augustus straightens himself up too, watching Delta through a careful side-eye. He trusts Delta, but as a precaution, he brushes a hand over his face, checks his palm for any dirt or anything, then wipes that hand on his shirt. He slides his cigarette holder from between his lips so that he can speak unimpeded.

“You alright there, chief?” Augustus says. “Been mighty quiet lately - even by your standards.”

Delta considers what he’d been thinking about and sighs wistfully, his body language downright deflating. A soft, miserable little note of whalesong comes from him.

Augustus’s brow furrows as he frowns.

“Aw, now, what’s the matter, kid? Thoughts bein’ unkind ta you, or somethin’ else?”

Delta shrugs.

“Oh. Reckon I can tell what it is.”

Delta, scared, turns a fraction at the waist to peer anxiously at him and freezes in place.

“It’s that bond o’ yours with young Eleanor, ain’t it? Stickin’ pins in your heart again - am I right?”

Scared as he’d been, a part of Delta is disappointed at the incorrect guess, body language deflating again.

Something like that, Delta wants to say because his heart does definitely hurt, but he only gives an affirmative grunt, lets Augustus believe he’s right.

Augustus bobs his head in a few, understanding nods.

“So I am. You got my sympathy, chief. No wonder you looked ready to fall down on top o' me.” 

Augustus pats his bicep with one hand, lets it rest there after he’s done.

“But don’t you worry,” Augustus says, and his tone is soft enough that it melts Delta’s aching heart, “you won’t be dealin’ with that for much longer. Only a matter of time now before we reach ol’ Fontaine’s place an’ find out where Lamb’s been keepin’ your girl. Then you two’ll be together again, and you’ll be feelin’ right as rain. That pain in your ticker will jus’ be a bad memory. An inconvenience, no more.”

Augustus barks a soft chuckle as he takes his hand from Delta’s arm and leans toward him enough for their arms to touch. He cocks his head.

“I know I said havin’ a heart’s a liability, but with you, kid, it’s practically a death sentence. Not that I’m pinnin’ blame on you, o’ course. It’s how the old sayin’ goes, I guess: the heart wants what the heart wants, eh, chief?”

Delta gives another soft sigh.

You have no idea…

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #32 - Nobody’s Ever Actually Dead in Comic Books

Our band of merry guys-who-weren’t-on-the-Lost-Light-in-issue-#1 approach the shattered husk of the Lost Light, in a gruesome scene that is only slightly marred by the graphic design.

Font doesn’t really suggest danger, does it? Here, for comparison, is something I slapped together in fifteen minutes (including recreation of background) using a font I got off a free font site.

Now, one could say that my version is rather derivative, flat, and arguably cliche, but you know what else it is? Appropriate for the fucking mood of having found a destroyed, hemorrhaging ship after everyone you knew disappeared.

I’m available, IDW! Hit me up.

Theorizing that this is the ship that the Coffin Rodimus came from- remember that? It was a few issues ago- the gang flies in for a closer look. The ship blood is actually something called quantum foam, which allows for quantum space travel to happen. It’s not supposed to be outside of the quantum quills, but the ship’s pretty junked up, so it is.

Because the ship is so very full of holes, the gang can set down for repairs pretty easy. They land in Swerve’s, finding it in less-than-pristine condition. They also find evidence of Crosscut having gotten creative, as a poster for the play he was working on is hung up in the room. Considering he was still writing it when he disappeared, this might seem a bit odd. But then you remember that this is a ship from the future, and it stops being so odd.

Because this is a future ship, with evidence that Crosscut did some stuff, it stands to reason that, at some point, everyone is going to come back from being disappeared.

Just to die.

Which is a bummer, but one crisis at a time.

Megatron disembarks the Rod Pod, with Ravage following, and everyone is just a touch put off by the duo. Everyone but Nautica, who proceeds to commit a microaggression.

Nautica, that’s Soundwave’s father you’re petting like a common animal.

Ravage, angered by this over-familiarity, swats at her. Skids questions letting an active Decepticon roam around, but Megatron brushes off these concerns, saying that finding any still-living crew members is more important. With that, the search begins.

The gang splits up to look for clues, despite Riptide thinking this is a horrible idea. They’re on the clock for this one- the quantum foam is liable to explode if it touches anything, and there’s an awful lot of the stuff floating around right now.

Nightbeat and Nautica leave the rest of the group to their own work, seeing as Nautica has the most appropriate alt-mode for traversing the gaps in the ship.

Man, that’s pretty cool. Wish Nautica hadn’t been regulated to being “girl best friend” for her character arcs, I would have loved to see her do some neat stuff for her own development. Guess that’s what happens when you get introduced as main cast late, and have to compete with all the faves who had dozens of issues to be established and who also don’t have to deal with the whole “token girl character” thing.

The rest of the gang- Megatron, Ravage, Riptide, Skids, and Getaway- start looking in the area they’re already in. Seems a little lopsided, but whatever.

Ravage finds someone almost immediately, identifying Ultra Magnus through smell alone. Only, it isn’t just Ultra Magnus.

The Magnus armor lays not terribly far away, having had its hands cut off to prevent the recall signal from being activated before being gut-murdered.

Gut-murdered wiTH A FUSION CANNON, MEGATRON

Of course, Megatron was forced to destroy his fusion canon after it was decided he would be joining the Lost Light, but you can buy these things off the black market like it’s nothing. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if Brainstorm had a few stashed in his lab.

As it currently stands, nobody can trust the guy who has a storied past of killing Autobots, on a future ship where the only folks who could stop him are dead. Megatron, at least, has the good sense to not argue this fact, and suggests that the boys lock both Ravage and himself up until they suss out exactly what happened.

Meanwhile, over with Nautica and Nightbeat, we run through all the weird shit that’s happened in the last day or so.

Nautica, you’ve been on this ship for months now. How did you miss the fact that the only couple within 800 miles got annihilated by way of Phase Sixer? I feel like that attack might have come up at some point.

Since they’re on the subject of spouses, Nightbeat asks Nautica if she’s married, or if she has friends. Though noting that such a direct line of questioning might get him slapped with someone else, Nautica reveals that she is single, though she does have a best friend. Nightbeat is also single, probably because he pulls shit like this.

While this conversation is going on, Nautica uses her Sonic Screwdriver wrench to open a door with the literal push of a button. Brainstorm tricked out her wrench so hard it turned into a magic wand, which is good, because they’re going to need all the help they can get now that space is literally warping around them thanks to the quantum foam.

Nautica kicks something on the elevator, and that something turns out to be Brainstorm’s mysterious briefcase. Too bad Swerve is gone, he was so invested in what it contained. Luckily, Nightbeat is just as interested.

Back over on the other side of the ship, it seems as though Megatron kept his word about not resisting, as both he and Ravage have been locked in a cabinet. Wonder how that’s going for them.

Oh, better than I expected.

Ravage is fucking pissed that Megatron joined the Autobots, thereby turning his back on everyone who supported his cause during the last four million years. Despite this grievous betrayal though, the Decepticons haven’t stopped moving. Turns out, Galvatron’s in charge now.

But only if Autobot Megatron isn’t some sort of ploy.

It’s at this point that we learn just why Ravage is here to begin with- to see if Megatron’s truly given up the Decepticons, and if he has, to murder him. But first he’d like to know why this is happening.

Megatron views himself as a monster, having perpetuated a war that ended the lives of billions, destroyed the Cybertronian way of life, ostracized his race from the rest of the universe, and killing just to have something to do. He doesn’t like feeling this way about himself, so he decided to walk away from that life by joining the other team.

Don’t think it’s quite that easy to do, but okay.

Ravage isn’t so sure that this change of heart is going to stick, still convinced that Megatron will snap back to his old self with just a bit more time. Problem is, Megatron may not have a ton of that resource left.

Didn’t they build that body in like an hour so you wouldn’t die? Yeah, no wonder it feels as ill-fitting as a twenty-dollar suit. Thing’s probably made out of pig iron and duct tape.

The lights come on before further self-reflection can be done, and the duo realize that they’ve had guests this whole time.

Someone put the kettle on.

Obviously some fucked up shit happened on this ship. Megatron isn’t so sure that it’s him who did these dirty deeds, however, as he reaches into Ratchet’s mouth and pulls out his brain. Which feels like something that doesn’t really absolve one of guilt, but okay.

Also, ew.

Back with Nautica and Nightbeat, things are getting weird.

Now, this sequence might seem confusing at first blush, but this is because the laws of reality are collapsing around them. Going by clues in the background, we can find the proper, linear progression of time, and thus is conversation. This is what is actually happening:

With the mystery of Brainstorm’s briefcase eluding us once again, we move on to see more graphic aftermaths of violence. Poor Tailgate has been nailed to the wall with a chunk of a metal beam that’s almost as big as he is. The mood lighting for this scene is gorgeous, but I’ve hit my limit for exposing y’all to gore for this issue, so you’ll just have to trust me on this one. Then they find something even more interesting.

Who’s ready for Under Cold Blue Stars… 2!

Back over on the opposite side of the ship, Riptide’s found something nasty. It’s a bunch of dead bodies!

Including, uh, Pipes.

Who already died a while ago.

Hm.

All the bodies in this room are in their alts, and it looks like they’ve all been shot and drilled into, for some reason. Skids brings up that he had a friend who could identify the placement of any robot’s brain module just by knowing what they turned into. Then he reaches into a corpse to see what the drill-hole’s all about. It makes him sick, though maybe not for the reason you might think. He gets on the phone with Nightbeat, who’s called to tell them that they’ve found Overlord.

Still locked in his weird body harness.

And decapitated.

Megatron is on the other line, calling because he’s figured out the same thing Skids has. Someone paid a visit to this ship. Someone nasty.

The gang regroups, and Nautica gets the basics on the DJD, because I guess nobody’s mentioned them even in passing in the last six months, either.

God, what do they even talk about on this ship? Certainly not their feelings.

The reason that one room was filled with alt-modes was because of Tarn’s addiction to transforming; t-cogs are easier to remove when they’ve been used recently.

We get a quick 4/5ths-page gore-fest, then it’s back to making it all about Megatron.

Maybe you should have thought about that before you FUCKING DEFECTED, YOU POOL NOODLE.

Nightbeat’s beginning to put two and two together. There’s an Overlord in the basement. That shouldn’t be, because Overlord got exploded by Chromedome when he mercy-killed Rewind. Something is off about the past of this ship.

Before he can establish his MTMTE everybody-lives-but-then-dies AU though, the quantum foam fucks with the ship. These sons of guns need to get the hell out of here, pronto.

Oh god, what now?

Ravage smells someone inside the Magnus armor, someone who isn’t a part of the usual nesting doll lineup. Megatron reaches into the Crackerjack box and pulls out one hell of a prize.

HE LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVES

Chromedome would be so thrilled, if he still existed.

[papipopsicle]

CLOUDS

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Teleporter!Reader

Genre: fluff, angst if you squint real hard

Summary: In which Y/N finds comfort in things, items owned by the people she trusts most. Nobody expected Bucky to be one of those people though. AU AWAY FROM IW&Endgame, ALSO THERE ARE X-MEN

Song: Clouds by BØRNS

Warnings: swearing

Words: 3K

a/n: this took me about three months to write, i’m so damn proud of it i hope you like it as much as i do!!

feedback is always appreciated

"You cold?" Tony nodded over to the figure on the plush couch. He knew it was Y/N without a second glance, of course she'd be sitting alone in the small nook to the side of the kitchen. It was the best view from the compound, she always liked to remind the team. The roof was an exception to that, she always added a beat later.

Y/N would find a way to feel freezing on the hottest day of the year, she couldn't stand the cold one bit.

It was late at night or early morning by now. Either way, the recreational floor only seemed to be inhabited at this time by those whose dreams are plagued to be nothing but a deathly desolate horror show. Tony was simply getting a glass of water for Pepper, since she argued fridge water tasted better than their bathroom tap water, though he never noticed the difference. At this point there was no use questioning it.

Y/N joined the disjointed family of broken superheroes six months ago, her existence uncovered after an operation went south and she teleported right into Iron Man's ruby red arms. He practically adopted her then and there. She kept to herself mostly, always quiet and kind whenever anyone spoke to her. Wanda sensed the torment in her mind though as soon as they met, hugging the girl tightly in comfort only to make her jump to the other side of the compound out of pure shock. Y/N couldn't remember the last time someone had touched her with such genuine compassion.

She'd become less skittish after a few months, only jumping away in truly uncomfortable moments; like when Steve walked into the med bay to find her mid-way through changing her clothes. The poor super soldier was probably more scarred from the memory than the y/h/c haired girl.

"I'm good, thanks though." Y/N responded simply, the burgundy hoodie hugging her torso feeling even softer and more comforting at the thought of being cold.

Tony lifted his head from the sink to find the scene playing out, and smiled contently as she snuggled into the plush sofa while some lighthearted sitcom played quietly in the background.

"Goodnight, Shortcut." The male called softly, knowing it was no use to corral her into bed. She'd either jump back a few seconds later when the coast was clear or find a new place to explore and settle in for the night. Y/N returned the greeting and let the scent of Tony's own aftershave lull her into a calm sleep.

"Night, Tone."

When morning finally shone through the large floor to ceiling windows, the teleporter found herself unusually warm. She let out a groggy noise resembling a grunt, and her nose was met with the delicious scent of her favourite fruit as she inhaled. Y/N blinked a few times, her hands coming into contact with the fluffy material of a cream coloured blanket before her eyes could fully focus on it.

"You were shivering, Angel. Couldn't let my favourite superhuman freeze to death." Bucky cut through her thoughts like a butterknife, Y/N's gaze tearing away from the soft fabric to find the veteran flipping pancakes nonchalantly.

His voice felt softer than usual, not blunt and sarcastic like when he'd talk to Sam or Natasha, nor did it feel natural like when it came to Steve. It was warm and raspy, not coddling and protective like Tony and Pepper's. Y/N decided she liked this and wanted to here it more.

She didn't know whether to ask for the time or how she was his 'favourite superhuman' when their conversations were less than four seconds long at best. His mellow attitude wasn't helping either and Y/N soon found her brows so furrowed they almost touched. But for some reason it put all her senses on high alert- rose tinting her cheeks at the thought of someone thinking about her in a good way with no reasoning.

She didn't really think anyone thought about her existence unless they needed something.

When she first arrived, Y/N noticed a lot of chatter behind her back. They were welcoming and made sure she was comfortable, but it was obvious they didn't trust her. She never took it to heart, they knew absolutely nothing about her. Sam had the decency to ask her everything whizzing through his mind, genuinely wanting to keep his friends safe and know if she was a threat. Maybe that's why Y/N liked him so much, he was honest but never made her nervous or self conscious.

The girl let the warmth of the blanket fall from her body as she jumped to the kitchen counter behind Bucky. He shifted at the small noise she made, sensing purple whirls of energy over his shoulder. The soldier turned with a half-smirk, holding a plate of delicious cherry pancakes out for Y/N. Bucky's smile faltered and he let out a chuckle as she continued to look down at the plate then up into his eyes in curiosity, "You see, Sweetheart- where I'm from - if someone offers you food, you take it and say thank you."

Y/N finally took the plate, not noticing Bucky's lingering gaze as he could practically hear the cogs whirring in her head, her expression adorably flustered.

"Thank you, James." She mumbled happily, head lowered to hide her pinkish cheeks. He picked her emotions up and dropped them half way between confusion and fascination.

The girl didn't grow up with parents as role models, and siblings to be friends with; she'd been genetically engineered by a small research team in Norway. Bucky didn't know much else, other than one day eight months ago the lab was attacked and Y/N escaped by jumping to New Zealand.

"How'd you know?" She asked after taming her racing heart, her hair flicking in every which direction while jumping down from the counter to retrieve cutlery. He hummed in response, showing he was listening while not wanting to take his eyes off of the newly simmering batter, "I don't think I've been able to hold a conversation long enough with you to ask an obligatory how're you, let alone tell you my favourite food."

Bucky let out a scoff and shook his head, the smile she'd given him not leaving his lips, "You have cherries with everything you can, you'd have them on a roast dinner if you could."

Y/N silently groaned to herself. Long gone was the brainwashed assassin, but years of regimented training lay etched into his mind still, of course he was more observant than most. It was the first food she found after her great escape. A cherry tree at the bottom of a fairytale garden. She didn't have the energy to find shelter after using her powers to such an extent, and so the next morning an elderly woman was given the shock of her life when she found a body sleeping under her cherry tree. Gloria, her name was, took Y/N under her wing and taught her how to act even remotely human.

Bucky stacked up his own fluffy pancakes and took to a chair at the breakfast bar, not having time to register the fast pace of his heart. While he waited for her response and began stuffing his face, Y/N furrowed her brows once again. She wasn't a soldier, that was for sure. She wore her heart on her sleeve and every emotion on her face. None of her teachers ever showed her how to hide things like that, she didn't know it was possible.

It was so easy for Bucky to tell what she was thinking; if she truly found something funny or was just laughing along to be polite. He saw the broken girl under her smile as soon as she'd arrived, but also the girl fighting to be free under that too.

"Well," Y/N shrugged as if the ex assassin hadn't just flicked through her thoughts and uncovered all her secrets, pulling a cherry stem from her mouth before pelting the small stone at the middle of his forehead, "you don't like gravy and you click your knuckles every twenty minutes, so, whose the real weirdo?"

The cherry stone hit Y/N in her cheek seconds later, "You always ask Friday to check on everyone and report back before falling asleep. If something's wrong then you stay with them until it's not anymore."

Her lips fell agape at that and blood rushed to her cheeks, "How could you possible know that? I was denied access to you by Friday."

Bucky stuffed his mouth once again with the fluffy food and watched her for a few seconds. He could stay like this forever if he was honest with himself, Y/N was extremely easy to get along with. She was innocent and all consuming to someone with as dark of a past as Bucky. Her wide eyes dug deeper into his grave, full of wonder and life and love.

"Sam and Nat don't shut up about you the next morning, apparently you know just the right thing to say to them. Plus, Steve keeps muttering about how Wanda's nearly always sleeping in because you cuddle with her."

The girl felt herself getting defensive as she pulled another cherry stem from between her teeth and launched the stone at Bucky's nose. How could he have possibly remembered this much about her? More so, why?

"She likes to be the little spoon, so what?" Y/N retorted, her head swimming in a sea of confusion.

Bucky all but beamed at her, he was enjoying this too much."You two together or something?"

"Only when she can't sleep."

It was here, both on there last pancake alone on the early spring morning, that the soldier wondered how human this girl before him truly was. She learnt social queues from a New Zealander in her eighties and a damaged band of superhumans. Had anyone even shown her kindness before now? Her bright ocean eyes and soft skin deserved love and happiness, but did she even know what they felt like?

"No-I mean are you two dating?" Bucky got up from the counter, taking both empty plates with him to the sink before Y/N appeared on the counter next to him with her usual intrigued eyes and pretty smile.

"James, women are truly beautiful creatures, but I'm not sexually attracted to them I know that much. Besides, I've never dated anyone before, not had the chance I guess." The girl shrugged, slipping off the counter and drying the dishes and cutlery Bucky had just washed up. He nodded thoughtfully at her response, taking the plates from her smaller hands and placing them back in the cupboard while she did the same with the knives and forks.

"Bucky." He said encouragingly with a warm smile gracing his features. Y/N's head perked up and it took everything in her not to jump to the opposite side of the compound as she found the most incredible thing.

The corner of James' eyes were crinkled slightly yet still shone bright, teeth creeping out just a bit as the low vibrations left his lips. She'd never felt this before, but before she could control herself she seemed to be smiling right back a the man in front of her, warmth flooding all of her senses.

"What?" She hummed happily. Suddenly, Y/N snapped out of her thoughts and took a step back. Blood rushed to her cheeks in embarrassment and she hoped to god that he hadn't noticed her staring.

If he had, he hid it well.

"You can call me Bucky, if you want." He paused and sent her the same stomach fluttering smile, "I just noticed you always call me James, everyone calls me Bucky, though."

But before she could even start to respond, Mantis and Pepper were entering the kitchen area giggling and chatting away, and Bucky felt a pulse of energy against his side, finding only purple whirls where the intriguing girl had stood seconds ago.

It wasn't until later that evening when he would find her next. She had a habit of popping up out of nowhere, even without using her powers. The team had eaten together, Scott and Clint were in charge of food tonight and it was a wonder anyone survived. But Y/N didn't show. At this point Bucky would probably admit he as a little disappointed she didn't jump in for even a few minutes, but she was probably tied up with something.

It wasn’t unusual though, he had to remind himself, Y/N didn’t always feel comfortable being around so many people, which was something Bucky understood well.

While on his walk back to his apartment, the soldier’s mind filled with beautiful images of Y/N’s elated expression, the way it contorted in confusion over the simplest act of kindness. He found it endearing, the raw innocence behind her wide eyes and bright smile warming his heart in a way he’d never felt before.

“Ow!” Y/N’s voice yelped, and Bucky blinked out of his hazy daydream, finding her smaller body sat uncomfortably on the floor before his feet. She looked up at him with that same wild yet sweet look of utter bashfulness.

“Jesus-” Bucky helped the teleporter to her feet, and he held onto her for a few moments more than necessary before letting go. He checked over her body for any signs of injury, worry flooding his features at the thought of causing her any more pain than she’d already lived through. “I’m so-so sorry, Bambi, are you okay? My mind was in the clouds I hadn’t even seen y-”

“Bambi?” Y/N questioned, seemingly not fazed by being knocked over by a very muscular super-soldier after the initial shock.

Bucky chuckled and allowed himself a second to memorise the look on her face, she was truly stunning, with dimples and mesmerising eyes. “Yeah.” He responded after a second, “It’s a Disney film about this little baby deer, you’d love it. Me and Steve saw it every chance we could back before all of this, I’d never have admitted that to a pretty girl back then though.”

“You think I’m pretty?” She gasped, choosing not to tease the two hundred pounds of muscle in front of her about his love for Disney because she physically couldn’t. Her body reacted on its own, cheeks burning and the words tumbling from her lips before she had the chance to catch them.

“Of course.” Bucky whispered matter of factly as if she was asking the easiest of questions. For him it was, they may not have had a friendship before today, and maybe it wouldn’t be friendship tomorrow, but to him she was the most stunning human this world had created.

“Of course I do.” He repeated ever so slightly louder, scared she hadn’t heard him the first time.

Y/N took his much larger flesh hand in her own, squeezing it and looking up at him with fondness and admiration etched onto her face.

“You’re pretty too, Bucky.” The girl hummed out with a shy smile, eyes now locked onto their intertwined fingers.

Bucky matched her grin, feeling the smooth skin of her hands cooling his burning palms, and it was only then that he took in how cold her body had felt when he helped her up off the ground.

“Y/N, you’re freezing.” He didn’t respond to her comment, yet kept it at the forefront of his mind because it felt important. Everything she said was important to him.

She registered his words and quickly withdrew her hand from his, shrugging her shoulders absentmindedly, “Sorry, it’s just part of me I guess, I’m fine- I should probably go.”

And just like earlier, Bucky was left with words stuck in his throat and purple tendrils of cold air curling around the space Y/N had inhabited. “Don’t apologise for being yourself.” He said into the air, shaking his head and entering his room for the night.

The teleporter’s mind was a mess of emotions and as much as she wanted to fall asleep in the comfort of the memory foam mattress Tony had supplied for her, her thoughts wouldn’t quieten. It wasn’t the usual ghosts from her past keeping her awake tonight, but the same chills greeted her body and she felt completely alone in the large dark room that was meant to bring solace to her worried head.

When the clock on her nightstand finally ticked over to two AM, she chose to go in search of Tony’s jumper she had left on the sofa last morning. Y/N jumped to the recreational level, just outside of the common area to make sure nobody was in there before she entered. After making her way over to the small nook, the blanket Bucky had lay over her was neatly folded in the corner and a smile pulled at her lips from the memory.

She hadn’t expected to see a small bundle in the opposite corner of the couch though, with a small handwritten note atop of it.

Don’t be sorry for feeling cold, I thought this might help a little though. James x

Y/N admired his script, expecting the tormented man to have scrawled writing, but instead she noticed it mirrored Steve’s. They must’ve learnt how to write together, she assumed.

She took off her own sweatshirt, pulling the soldiers top over her head and letting his scent calm her senses. It reminded her exactly of how his hand felt in hers- soothing and comforting in such an inexplicable way.

Bucky found her hours later, snuggled up on the plush sofa with his Henley practically falling off her, blanket engulfing her body as she hugged the teddy bear to her chest, blissfully unaware of how much the man wished he was holding her the same way.

[randomoranges]

the only reason this didn’t turn into a 40 million page thing is because i reigned it in after i wrote the og idea out. because the og idea is done and over within the 3 first pages. the rest is just bonus. do you like soft and fluff and silly? here is soft and fluff and silly.

Fly me to the Moon

 Étienne thanked the cab driver and bounced out of the car. He grasped his bag tightly in his hands and couldn’t help but grin as he looked up at the house in front of him. He took a deep breath to still his erratic beating heart and fished out his phone from his sweater pocket. He fidgeted from one foot to the other, a bouncing ball of energy ready to go off in every which direction as he thumbed through his phone to find the correct contact. His thumb hovered over the call button for a moment before he pressed down.

 The phone rang once.

 The phone rang twice.

 The phone rang a third time and Étienne started to think that maybe his carefully well thought out plan would backfire on him.

 The phone started to ring a fourth time, when finally, it picked up.

 “Hey there, hot stuff,” Étienne said, trying his best not to shout his excitement in the phone.

 “Curly?” Edward asked, from the other line, “I wasn’t expecting your call this early; to what do I owe the pleasure?”

 Étienne could hear the smile in Edward’s voice and it only made him even more excited, “I was thinking, we should do lunch together,” He heard Edward laugh and part of him yearned to hear it in person instead of over the phone.

 “Man, I wish we could. Promise we can go out for lunch when I get back home,” He sounded ever so fond that for a moment, Étienne paused just to cherish the way it made him feel.

 “Alright, but humour me, let’s say we could do lunch, right now, where would you take me?” Étienne started pacing around his bag, not able to stand still any longer.

 “Hmm,” Edward started, thinking, “Well, depends, are you in the mood for anything in particular?”

 “You mean other than you?”

 Edward swore and Étienne laughed, silently pleased with himself.

 “Be serious.”

 “Fine,” He thought about it for a moment – actually thought about it, but he was exhausted and he knew that wherever Edward would take him would be perfect, “I don’t know – I’m sure there’s at least one place you haven’t taken me yet.”

 Edward pondered this for a moment. Étienne had visited him twice over the past two summers and they had gone to a bunch of different places. It had been nice to show Étienne some of the restaurants he had enjoyed going to and he had been ever so relieved when Étienne had enjoyed every single one. Not that he had worried.

 “Oh! How about sushi? We never got around to going to Kyoto the last time! They were closed for holiday one year and last year they were doing renovations.”

 “Yes! I’ve honestly heard you go on about this place for the past million years. Let’s go, I’m famished.”

 Edward laughed again, deep and rich and it did funny things to Étienne’s insides. “I wish we could, Bouclé, I really do. It would be a nice date. If only the distance between Montreal and Edmonton wasn’t so big...”

 Étienne chewed on his bottom lip once more and did his utmost best not to giggle like a lunatic, “It’ll be a great date, you mean. Now, put your shoes on, get your keys and let’s go.”

 There was a great big moment of silence and Étienne could almost hear the cogs turn in Edward’s head. “What are you talking about, Maisonneuve?”

 “You, me, sushi, yes?”

 “Unless I missed something in this conversation, I don’t see how that could happen,” Edward said carefully, slowly, trying to make sense of his boyfriend.

 “Why don’t you step outside and see for yourself?”

 From inside of the house, Edward Murphy’s heart skipped a beat and turned on itself for one hot second. He clearly was not hearing right and his boyfriend was definitely not implying what he was implying. There was just no actual sense to it. Étienne hadn’t mentioned anything, they hadn’t discussed anything of the sorts. Therefore, this was just a clever little trick of his mind – or a dream, or something.

 “Come on, Eddy, come outside,” Étienne prompted and Edward somehow or other walked from his bedroom where he’d been sorting through his closet, went down the hall, towards his front door and paused with his hand on the doorknob. He didn’t dare look through the peephole, afraid of what he may or may not find on the other side, and instead took a deep, steadying breath.

 “Whatever game you’re playing at...” He warned. He heard Étienne laugh and finally braced himself for whatever it was his crazy boyfriend had concocted this time around.

 Edward opened the door and stepped out. The sun hit him in the face and he glared for a moment, shielding his face with his free hand. He looked around for a moment and then froze dead in his tracks.

 There was absolutely no fucking way this wasn’t some dream.

 Down the walkway, standing on the curb of the street, wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt, overstuffed bag at his feet stood Étienne in all his sunshiny disposition.

 Edward blinked to make sure he was really there and his brain confirmed it was his boyfriend and not some lookalike. (The hallucination option hadn’t been written off yet.) There was the same tousled curly hair, bright smile, and intelligent eyes behind designer frames. For some strange reason, his boyfriend was here, standing in front of his house, and Edward’s brain was short-circuiting.

 “What the fuck?!” He asked, because it seemed it was the only intelligible thing he was able to say at the current moment.

 “Surprise!” Étienne beamed and started making his way towards him, confirming even more that this was real.

 Edward remained rooted to his spot, unable to move and simply watched, transfixed. Étienne took great leaps to close the distance between them and in a few short seconds, they were only inches apart. Étienne stopped short at that point and seemed to hesitate mid launch, as if he didn’t want to break Edward. They stood there for a few seconds, Edward still as dumbfounded as ever, while Étienne looked at him with a shy but overjoyed smile.

 “Hi!” Étienne said, his smile widening, if that was even possible and Edward could see the dimples in his cheeks and watch the way his green-brown eyes danced nervously over his face. His brain slowly caught up with reality and made him aware of the fact that he could actually reach out to Étienne and hold him tight. That he could feel his sun kissed skin under the palm of his hands and kiss every inch of his face if he so desired.

 It took him another moment or so, but finally his brain booted itself back in action and he was the one who closed the distance between them. Edward launched himself at Étienne and wrapped him in the tightest of hugs, making sure that he was really physically here. Étienne laughed and hugged him back, trying his best not to lose his footing. Edward yelped when Étienne spun him around for a half turn and when he was back on solid ground, Edward pulled back a fraction to fully look at Étienne.

 “What the fuck. Are you doing here.” He finally asked. A frown washed over his face as a multitude of questions danced in his head. He knew Étienne could be an impulsive fool and that his number one pastime seemed to be to make him go crazy, but this warranted an explanation. This was too much, even by Étienne’s standards.

 “I’m working here for the week.” Étienne admitted and that clarified absolutely nothing for poor Edward.

 “Elaborate.”

 Étienne laughed and Edward did his best not to let a smile crack through his face. He could be stupid pleased his boyfriend was here after he scolded him for being ridiculous, “MU’s doing a collab with some international artists on a mural in Edmonton. They were looking for two people from the team to come and help out. There was a whole application process and since I knew you were coming back home for the summer to work, I figured I could apply. If I got picked then it meant we’d be in the same city for one week and I could surprise you.” It sounded like a logical explanation, but it didn’t mean Edward accepted it.

 “This is illegal – you’re not allowed to concoct these devilish plans and not let me know beforehand.”

 Étienne knew Edward wasn’t actually mad at him. Had he been, his boyfriend wouldn’t still be holding on to him, arms around his waist, looking like a besotted fool, “At first I didn’t want to say anything, in case I didn’t get chosen, and then I wanted to surprise you and I think it worked rather well.” He beamed, pleased. The bastard.

 “Okay, but wait, hold on, how did you get here? And where are you staying? And how does any of this even work?”

 “I rode on a water buffalo,” He deadpanned and got a hit to his chest for his efforts, “I took the early flight out of Montreal, took a cab at the airport, since I wanted to get here ASAP and now I’m here. MU’s putting me up in a hotel downtown and I thought...” He trailed off for a moment there and looked a little uncertain and shy. Edward thought he looked adorable and he wanted to kiss his nose. But not right now. Right now he was Upset. “I thought maybe you could – we could stay there together...” He added, his cheeks taking on a rather lovely shade of pink, “I know you work – and I’ll also be working, but this way we can at least go to sleep together and have breakfast together – or just supper, or whatever, really, but I thought it would be nice. Also because I really miss you and I know you’re coming back soon, but – this could be nice,” He rambled on, a nervous trait of his Edward also thought was endearing. He put a hand up and Étienne fell silent.

 “Yes, to all of that, now come inside and help me pack.” He took on his best no-nonsense voice and Étienne laughed at his antics. For Edward, it was better for his poor heart if he just – went with this and stopped trying to question it.

 Étienne nodded and followed him inside, all the while holding on to Edward’s hand. He had enough time to put his bag on the floor and shuck his shoes off, once they were in, before Edward crowded him against the door and kissed him hard, taking him a little by surprise.

 “You absolute mad man,” He murmured against his lips and Étienne went limp in Edward’s arms, perfectly content. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Étienne grinned, trying to look as innocent as he could and pulled Edward closer to him. He hadn’t seen him in actual literal weeks, his plan had worked out perfectly and he was rather pleased with himself. It was nice, having Edward pressed up against him. He liked it when his boyfriend manhandled him and he could tell that Edward was all flustered and bothered by this surprise. The expression on his face was simply adorable; from his little frown to his cute pout and Étienne was eating it right up. He hoped he could keep pulling stunts like these for years to come.

 “You have no idea how hard it was not to tell you. I must have almost slipped half a dozen times over our calls,” Especially during late night calls, when Étienne would be snuggled up in bed, comfortable, with his phone propped up beside him. He would close his eyes from time to time to imagine Edward beside him and sometimes, it had worked. It was during those moments, when Edward would tell him about his day and what he’d done that Étienne would catch himself before saying something daft like “why don’t we go there when I’m over” or “can’t wait for you to show me in a few weeks.”

 “Yeah? Well, why don’t you tell me all about it while you help me pack?” There was a mischievous glint to Edward’s eyes that made Étienne’s face split into an even larger grin and sent butterflies to his stomach. He nodded again, eager, and followed his boyfriend to his bedroom. If they stopped once or twice along the way to exchange one or two more hungry kisses, no one was there to call them out on it.

 April had been such a very long time ago.

 --

 Packing turned into more disbelief (on Edward’s part), which turned into more teasing (from Étienne), which had led to more kissing (to shut Étienne up), which gave room for wandering hands, which had Edward pull Étienne to his bed to properly make up for lost time, which Étienne had been more than happy to oblige in. Lunch could wait and Edward’s parents’ were still out. This was an opportunity that simply couldn’t be passed.

 “I miss you...” Étienne told him, as he caressed Edward’s features with the tip of his finger, tracing over his brow, down the slope of his nose, across his cheek and over his lips. Edward blushed, a lovely shade of pink Étienne thought went well with his complexion, and he snuggled closer to his boyfriend, twining their legs together. “It’s not the same when you’re not home,” He added, almost as an afterthought, even if they both knew that it meant a lot to Étienne and that it carried its own weight and truth.

 “Miss you too, you fool, even if I’m still in shock that you went behind my back like that,” He poked at Étienne’s chest to accentuate his point, but his boyfriend simply took his hand to press a tender kiss to it. “Anyways,” He said, trying to recover – Étienne was going to be the death of him if he kept this up, “It shouldn’t be for much longer – I mean, in a permanent way. Now that I’m done with my master’s, I plan on getting a permanent job and not have to rely on my old high school summer job to make some extra money.”

 “I look forward to it,” He pecked Edward’s nose and settled back against him with a content sigh.

 They stayed that way for a spell longer, simply enjoying each other’s company. There was no real rush and Edward was still wrapping his mind around this unexpected, but pleasant surprise. For as much as he wanted to shake Étienne by the shoulders for pulling such a stunt on him, he was also incredibly touched by the gesture. He was quite convinced that Étienne wouldn’t have necessarily applied for the job if he didn’t know Edward or had an ulterior reason to visit Edmonton and it warmed his heart to think he had done it just to potentially see him. Not that he was about to spill any of that to his boyfriend. The man had enough ammunition on him already. He certainly didn’t need more.

 Eventually, they did make it to Kyoto’s for lunch, even if it was a little later. They stopped by the hotel first, to drop off their bags and check-in and then made their way to the restaurant. As promised, the sushi was exceptionally good and Étienne declared that they had to return before he went back home. He even added that this place may have ruined sushi for him permanently and that they would have to come back again, or find a way to import the restaurant back to Montreal.

 As punishment and retaliation for Étienne’s little surprise, Edward somehow or other, miraculously, managed to pay for the bill while Étienne had excused himself to the washroom and Edward had been far too pleased with himself. He saw it as one wrong being finally righted, while Étienne blamed it on the jet lag and swore he would get his revenge.

 --

All in all, It turned out to be a really good week. It felt right, being together, and they fell into a pretty easy routine, even if they weren’t home and even if they were staying in a hotel. Edward couldn’t believe that this was the second time he was “sleeping away from home” in his own hometown, but he supposed it came with dating Étienne. Every day was like a new adventure with him and he absolutely loved that about their relationship.

 Even though Étienne had to head out for work after Edward, he still made it a point to have breakfast with him and made sure to kiss him good-bye as he went to work. Étienne would text him when he was on break and if their lunch break coincided, they would call each other for a few minutes. Edward made a list of all the places Étienne should visit throughout the day, if he had time, and if he didn’t they would go there once Étienne was done working (if he was up to it.) On most days, Étienne worked until quite late, since they were on a tight schedule and usually, Edward would meet up with him at the site of the mural. (He loved going to the site – loved seeing his boyfriend do what he loved and Edward couldn’t help but be proud – of Étienne, of the passion he had for his art, of calling him his own, of the idea that some small part of Étienne would stay here in Edmonton.)

 If Étienne wasn’t dead on his feet, they would go out to dinner, somewhere that Edward may or may not have dreamt of taking him to and if Étienne wasn’t up to it, they would get take out and bring it back to the hotel. It was like a vacation without it really being one and Edward enjoyed every moment of it. It was nice to be able to spend some time together, even if they were both busy, and Edward could see himself getting used to this. He could easily picture a life where they would each go to work and then reconvene together at the end of the day. A life where they would talk about their day over dinner, catch up and then unwind together. It was utterly domestic and he loved every variation of it.

 He liked being able to take Étienne out, show him parts of the city he hadn’t gotten a chance to, hold his hand and eventually give him his sweater, since Étienne was still somehow cold despite being better dressed than the first time he visited. But he didn’t mind – it was endearing and Edward loved the way Étienne looked buried in his sweater. He loved being able to do this – to go back to the hotel with Étienne, hear him laugh as they rode the elevator up to their room, peel every layer of clothing from his body, make love to him –hold him close afterwards and press soft kisses to his sun kissed skin.

 And then they would share the shower, if they wanted, and Edward would try to scrub the paint off Étienne’s skin and Étienne would squirm under his care and protest that it was a lost cause – that there would be more paint tomorrow, but Edward didn’t mind. Étienne would roll his eyes, fond and exasperated, but he’d let Edward fuss over him, let him brush his hair out afterwards and kiss him goodnight. And Étienne would curl up in Edward’s arms and Edward would stay up rubbing his back until Étienne fell asleep. And they would do it all over the following day – and, he loved it.

 But, as always, it was over too quickly.

 Edward moved around his shift so that he could drive Étienne to the airport, even though Étienne told him he didn’t have to and that he could take the bus to the airport. Edward wouldn’t hear none of that and insisted on accompanying him, since it also meant that they could get a few more minutes together. It only meant that Étienne’s eyes were a little moist when he launched himself at his boyfriend, to give him the tightest hug possible and it only meant that Edward did his utmost best not to look like an utter fool and break down in tears. He was so beyond that.

 If anything, at least, he would be going back home (and wasn’t that a thought, that he considered their place back in Montreal to be home) in a few weeks. They could pick up right where they had left off, from work, to catching up, to talking, and it would be just as good. It was a comforting thought and Edward knew, as he watched Étienne walk towards the security clearance check-point, that the moment Étienne would be at his gate, he’d get a message from him, but he still stood back and waited until he lost all visual with him before heading back.

 FIN.