#'i almost had it easier' jim your dad RAISED YOU IN A BOX.

[judasisgayriot]

Profit: I can make her worse. Gail, glaring at him: Fine, but I’m gonna complain the whole time.

[magic-and-moonlit-wings]

Chapter 5: On The Subject Of Expectations

Becoming The Mask 

"Have you ever even held a sword before?" Draal demanded the next night.

"I'm more of a knife guy."

Jim could pass that off as a cooking joke if questioned, but it was true. The scale of the blade he had to work with now was throwing him off almost as badly as fighting in humanoid form.

He was confident enough that Draal wouldn't kill him – or, at least, that Blinky and AAARRRGGHH wouldn't stand idly by and let Draal kill him – that he offered the sword to the troll.

"Show me how I'm supposed to hold it, then."

Draal's eyes widened and he actually took half a step back.

"Ah, Master Jim," Blinky cautioned from the sidelines, "only a Trollhunter can wield the Sword of Daylight."

Jim ignored this and held the sword flat across both hands. Draal took it, slowly, cautiously, with more fear and reverence in his expression than Jim thought the sword really warranted even if it was magic. When Draal raised the blade above his head, it shone blue, and vanished from his hand in a burst of glowing smoke. It reappeared in Jim's hand, like the amulet had when he first tried to leave it with Stricklander.

"The sword is bound to the amulet," said Blinky. "It is not that only the Trollhunter may wield it, but that only the Trollhunter can."

Draal and Jim both winced.

"I'm … sorry," said Jim.

Draal sighed heavily. He walked over to the side of the Forge. Jim thought at first that he was storming off to be alone with his thoughts, but Draal came back with a double-pronged spear, or maybe a pole arm, from the weapons rack. He tested a few strikes against the empty air, and then pointed it at Jim.

"Your blade is but an extension of your body," he said sternly. "And your body, an extension of your eyes. Mimic my movements, Trollhunter."

"I'm almost impressed," said Draal, a few nights later. "I didn't think a fleshbag could survive this level of pummelling."

"You actually … getting tired?" Jim tried to taunt. It was ruined by his wheezing. Draal had successfully run him over three times so far in this match. "Admit it … I'm … wearing you down."

Draal laughed at him.

"Trollhunter!" A shouting woman ran into the Forge, waving her arms above her head. "TROLLHUNTER!" Blinky and AAARRRGGHH rushed to her.

"What is it? Speak, Bagdwella!"

She panted. Jim walked over, trying not to stumble. Draal gave him a sideways glance that could be creatively interpreted as concern.

"Rr … ruh … rogue gnome!"

"So, I learned something interesting about the Amulet last night. Apparently the teleportation thing it was doing is only if the Trollhunter rejects it. If somebody steals it, it doesn't just poof back to me."

"Someone stole the Amulet?"

"I got it back." He'd tempted the creature out of the hole with a candy bar, and stuffed it into a sack and stuffed the sack into a battered metal lunchbox. In order to retrieve her own things, the shopkeeper had been willing to have the wall carved open to get to the gnome's stash. "I'm just saying, that's kind of a counter-intuitive design feature. Thought it might come in handy when Bular kills me and the Amulet picks somebody else."

"Bular is not going to kill you."

It was comforting to hear Stricklander say that. Hearing that stern, parental tone, Jim could almost believe that he could turn to the more experienced Changeling for protection from Gunmar's son, and actually expect to receive that protection.

After school, he was faced with the gnome problem again.

It was secured in its box and very loudly unhappy about it. It had given up shouting and crashing into the walls, and was now singing a lament to the accompaniment of its odd guitar, or whatever the instrument was.

Jim had never had a pet, but the gnome's earlier behaviour reminded him of things he'd heard about ferrets. He was going to feel bad over killing the cute, clever little thief. He really should have done it already, but … as one being that trolls considered vermin to another, he wasn't sure he could go through with it. He hadn't directly, personally killed anything since leaving the Darklands.

He put it off by doing homework and reading more troll lore. Eventually the gnome went quiet. Jim thought it fell asleep.

Considering he had compared it to a ferret earlier, he should have expected it to escape.

Considering how up-and-down his luck had been lately, he really should have expected it to get out his window, drop off the porch roof, and make a run for Toby's house across the street.

Having known each other for ten years, Jim and Toby tended to let themselves in to each other's houses rather than knocking and waiting. Jim went right after the gnome, praying Toby was out and Nana Domzalski was immersed in one of her shows.

He almost caught it in the front hall. It darted into a rain boot that was lying on its side. Jim picked the boot up, but the gnome popped right back out as he was trying to cover the top of the boot with his forearm. It jumped to the ground and he turned the boot over, slamming it down like a glass on a spider, and missing the gnome by a hair.

In the kitchen, he dropped to all fours to follow it under the table and wondered if he should risk switching forms for faster reflexes. He could switch back if he heard Nana or Toby coming.

Before he could make a decision, the gnome jumped from the chairs it had been hopping back and forth between onto Jim's head, yanking his hair on landing, and then onto the floor and scuttled behind the fridge. Without AAARRRGGHH, Jim couldn't move something that heavy.

Well, maybe in his armour he could – he had suspicions it increased his strength, considering the size of the sword – but did he really need a magical suit of armour just to catch one lousy crafty gnome?

He waited by the fridge for it to come out again.

"Jimmy!" Nana Domzalski greeted him. Because of course she was here, in her own house, in the late evening, on a weeknight. "What a nice surprise. I think Toby-Pie is upstairs."

"Thanks, Mrs Domzalski," he said as easily as he could. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the gnome make a break for it and, conveniently and terribly, run up the quarter round of the staircase. "I'll just head on up."

Toby essentially had the entire upper story to himself. He was in his bedroom, staring enchanted at the gnome, which was playing its guitar.

"Aren't you just the best tiny musician in the world?" he whispered. "With such a cute pointy hat –" It bared its fangs at him and he recoiled, falling back on his bed and scrambling away. "And pointy teeth!"

"Toby!" Damn secrecy! Jim was pretty sure gnomes were carnivorous; he didn't want to drag his best friend to the hospital with mysterious bite wounds!

"Jim, did you see that?" The gnome ran again with a chittering giggle and disappeared into a pile of video games. "It was just there! Like a tiny lawn gnome, with a guitar, and fangs!"

"I saw it too, Tobes."

The undercover thing would be to lie and try to grab the gnome without Toby noticing. But Toby had seen the gnome. He hadn't had his phone out to record the musical performance, but he couldn't be put off by being told he'd imagined it. It would be easier to catch with Toby's help. Jim just had to keep Toby from finding out anything else and from comparing notes with Elijah Pepperjack in the aftermath.

The guitar started playing in the dollhouse. Jim held his finger to his lips and Toby nodded. As quietly as they could, they approached the dollhouse and peered into the tiny windows.

"Aw," Toby crooned. "He made a friend." The gnome was serenading a Sally-Go-Back action figure.

"When I say so," said Jim, "you pull the dollhouse open and I'll grab him."

"Come on, Jim, look at the little guy! He sounds so happy. Soul of an artist in that one."

It did seem docile for the moment …

"I just don't think it's safe," was the best Jim could offer without breaking at least one of his covers.

"I'm gonna name him Gnome Chompsky," said Toby.

"You're not serious. You're not keeping it."

"Man, I wish we could tell people about this, but poor Chompsky'd probably bolt again if too many 'giants' like us started crowding him, am I right?"

"You're actually serious."

"Come on, Jim! This is the coolest thing that's ever happened to me! I promise if he bites me I'll drop him down the garbage disposal and you can say you told me so."

Jim returned the empty sack and lunchbox to Bagdwella later that night and let her assume he was, indeed, a 'gnome slayer'.

Previous Chapter (Kanjigar, Vendel, the Heartstone, and Draal)

Table of Contents

Next Chapter (A visit to the Janus Order)

If you’re confused about the ‘ten years’ comment, Toby says in the birthday episode, “I had just moved in to the house across the street, and Jim’s dad got him this sweet bike kit for his fifth birthday ... and then he just took off.” So, in canon, Toby and Jim met when they were five. 

I HAVE FEELINGS about the scene where Jim and Draal are training together and Jim offers Draal a chance to try out the Sword of Daylight and it vanishes out of Draal’s hand and Jim tries to apologize for the magic sword’s behaviour. [My impressions are detailed here.]

I thought about killing Gnome Chompsky off, to demonstrate the difference in character between Changeling!Jim and canon!Jim, but that scene stopped working when I actually got into Jim’s motives and feelings, so this happened.

[justanontherwinchester]

Hunters Don’t Cry: Part 4

Parings: Dean x Reader x BestFriendSam

Summary: Catch up HERE 

Our reader is faced with a very difficult choice. Does she leave the only thing she has ever known or does she take the road less traveled? This is part four to a “I don't know how many part series”. 

Word Count: 2100ish 

Author’s Note: Here is part four. Again, thank you guys to the moon an back for supporting and liking this story. If you see any major grammar mistakes, give me a few hours, I’ll catch it and correct it. Also, if you want to be tagged, go ahead and let me know. I prefer you send it to my ask so it is easier for me to find. Thank you for the support, a million times. If you ever want to talk about the store, life, anything, my ask is always open. xoxo

Warnings: language 

Anything in italics is always a flashback

"I was gone because you pushed me away, Dean. You never said anything to me. You ignored my phone calls. Why should I have stayed?" I looked at Dean and crossed my arms.

"Because I loved you." He looked up at me in an emotional distress. "And I still love you with everything I have. I was twenty-seven years old and had no damn clue what I was saying. Of course I didn't want kids, (y/n). I've made mistakes but you have to forgive me."

"No, I don't, Dean. I don't have to do anything but live and die. I didn't want to have an abortion. Why did you think that would ever be what I wanted?" Sam and Tiffany had left the dilapidated living room to give us our space but if I got any madder, we were going to need a referee.

"Then what? I'm sorry, God damn, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not being there. I'm sorry for being selfish. I'm sorry for everything I messed up on. You are everything to me. Children or no children. You are my heart. You make me so mad I can't see straight but I love you and have loved your crazy ass since we were children." He had moved from the chair and was kneeling in front of me. His hands were on my crossed arms, but I still could not stand the feel of him touching me.

"But I can't forgive you, Dean. I can forgive you for being stupid. I can forgive you for drinking out of the milk carton. I can forgive you for everything under the sun but this. I can not forgive you for standing me up on the worst day of my life to hook up with the local bar whore. What were you thinking Dean? Please tell me what the actual fuck were you thinking?" I shook his hands off and stood up, moving to the other side of the room.

"I was thinking how I have seventeen cents to my name, no true identity, how I'm going to stop the fucking apocalypse when my brother is drinking the blood of the one thing we hate the most, how my dad was never there when I needed a shoulder to cry on, and how I can't destroy a child's life before it was even started. We didn't even know the world was going to last this long, (y/n). I'm sorry for not being there but once I decided, no, once I knew that, I wanted to say fuck it to all of this and have a family for you, you already ended it."

"How is this still my fucking fault, Dean?!" I was back to screaming. I was pissed and I was screaming.

"You didn't give me time to process."

"I gave you a week, Dean. I gave you a week."

"It took me two weeks to decide if I wanted to switch up the oil brands in Baby, how do you expect me to make that choice in a week?!"

"Don't bring that God forsaken car into this. You fucked up, Dean. You left me. I'm not forgiving you. I love you so much that it hurts. It destroys me more every time I hear you two. Every time I see you two together. I don't have much left, Dean. I'm not telling you to make a choice because if you are happy with her, that's all I want, but I'm not going to share anything else with that women. I'm not forgiving you for what you did. I'm not going to act like it's okay and introduce you to the twins so you can play daddy because you suddenly have a conscience. I will, however, still be a part of this team. I will still stand by your side when it comes to the job. I will always have your back Dean and I will always love you. But I'm not going to forgive you."

"Fair enough." He walked out of the room and up the stairs. The door to the room he chose slammed behind him, shaking the entire house.

Tiffany was sitting on the arm of the old chair in the corner. Her face was extremely swollen and she was crying. She looked at me completely broken-hearted.

"I'm sorry.. for like... all that." I waved my hand around my face to explain.

"If I knew, I wouldn't have." Her head was held in shame. "I mean y'all took me in. I have no place here. I mean what do I do? I don't fight. I don't understand half of what the books you read are even talking about."

I placed my hand on her arm, realizing that she wasn't a victim but she didn't deserve to be wrapped up in this mess.  

"But you didn't know and that's okay. I left Dean. He didn't know the truth and neither did you. Come on, let's get you cleaned and stitched up."  I pulled her to the kitchen and motioned her to sit down.

"Is this going to hurt?" Her eyes were almost swollen shut and her lip was extremely busted.

"Oh yeah. But luckily we have the best men to help with it." I grabbed the two bottles and turned to face her. "Jim or Jack?"

"Which one is best?"

"Jim is going to really help calm you down and ease the pain. Jack is going to ease the pain but he makes you a little feisty."

"Jim." I handed her the bottle and let her get a few sips in as I wiped her face with a warm wash cloth and anti-bacterial soap. She flinched every now and again but this was her first ask kicking, she took it well.

"Almost done." I focused on the last little running whip stitch on her cheek. "A couple more of these, we will make you a hunter yet."

"I don't think that will be happening any time soon." Her swelling had started to tone down but she was going to be in a lot worse shape tomorrow.

"Come on, you can't stay in the kitchen all the time." I mean yeah, she didn't have a lot going for her in the hunter department but this girl could cook.

"I can't stay here. I have to go."

"Do you have anywhere to go?" I closed the first aid box, which was really my Barbie lunchbox from elementary school. John bought it for me to be normal. Little did people know my thermos held holy water and there was a secret bottom that had a silver pocket knife, salt, and chalk.

"No." If her head could drop any lower, it would have.

"Then you can stay here. Yeah, you're a bitch and we haven't had the best four years together but that can change."

"Even though Dean and I were together?"

"Girl, Dean has had at least a women in each state and in some foreign countries. I'm not jealous."

"Wait, you weren't exclusive?"

"For about two years, we strictly were. Before that we were together occasionally but it was strictly friends with benefits."

"Oh. Did you have get with Sam?"  I started laughing and remember when it did happen. We were drunk, it was bad. "So you have?"

"Yeah. He was nineteen and just had his first semester at school. He met up with us and we decided to test out our new fake ids. One thing lead to another and we got piss drunk. So we started making out and by the end of the whole fiasco, we both were laughing so hard because it was so bad."

She was laughing and it was great actually talking to a girl.

"But he's so tall and muscular."

"But there was nothing there. Like attraction wise. It was so awkward. It didn't come between our friendship though"

"And Dean?"

"Girl we both know with Dean." We were both laughing and it felt great despite how right now things were a shit know. “He definitely makes up for his ego.”

"If you don't mind me asking, where are they?"

"With my cousin. They live there. They think I'm a detective." I smiled at their innocence. “A teddy bear detective.” 

"So that's when we are near Kansas you always disappear for a few days."  I nodded in reply.

"(Y/N)! What are you doing here?!" My cousin, Samantha, pulls me into a hug. "It's so good to you."

"Samantha.." I was already crying. Samantha was the only family I had and the only person besides the Winchesters that I trusted. She lived in Lawrence with her husband and ran a dog rescue. "I need your help."

"Oh honey..." she held me tighter, I knew she knew. "How many weeks?"

"10ish, going on 11." I followed her into my childhood home, preserved but slightly updated. I gave her the house when we turned eighteen. I was on the road, I didn't need it.

"Have you had an ultrasound?" I shook my head. I knew I needed one but I haven't had the chance. "You mean to tell me Dean Winchester is not waiting on you hand and foot, forcing you to take vitamins and making sure you have your appointments scheduled?"

"He didn't want them, so I decided I didn't want him." She pulled me back into her arms and I cried harder. She was always like a mom to me. We might be the same age but she was a mother. She was meant to be a mother but after multiple miscarriages, she gave up. They opened the rescue and raise the puppies instead of children.

She carried my bag to the guest bedroom and left me to be. I was home and so was the baby. I was never going to hunt again. That part of my life is over. I'm a mom now.

3 months later

"Wait... TWINS?! You mean I'm having twins?" I yelled at the ultrasound tech.

"Yep, it looks like two. The doctor will come in and confirm but that's clearly twins." She said wiping the gel off my now protruding belly.

I looked at Samantha and she was more than excited. We had already bought stock in diapers and wipes, now she is going to buy a whole Babies R Us. Her and Benjamin had already converted the second guest bedroom into a nursery.

"We are defiantly going shopping after this. We have to get another crib. Well we need to get another everything. More diapers too! I'm calling Ben and he will meet us with the truck to get everything because the car isn't big enough."

I laughed at her excitement. I was excited but I wasn't expecting twins.

The doctor entered the room and went straight to the monitor, looking at the stills. He looked at my stomach in silence and pressed along my sides and underneath my bump.

"Yep, we have twins. Do you want to know the gender?"  Samantha was sitting on the edge of her seat. I held her hand and nodded “yes” to the doctor. "Two little girls. They are growing fast. You have two little healthy babies. Right now they are perfect for twenty-two weeks. Come back in about three and we will do the 3D movie." He handed Samantha some papers as I zipped my jeans up and tried to get the left over gel off.

"Hey, I really have to use the restroom so I'll meet you outside." She smiled walked out of the room, already calling Benjamin to meet us at the furniture store.

"(Y/N)! Hey!" Sam picked up the phone after one ring.

"Hey, so I'm just checking in. Everything is great and so is the baby or should I say babies." I called Sam about once a week, checking in. I let him know how everything was going and just to talk.

"Babies? You're having twins?!" He got really excited, rather fast.

"Yep, two little girls."

"This is great (Y/N). This is absolutely wonderful. "

"Yeah, scary but great. So how is everything? How's Dean?"

"Well it's the apocalypse. We linked up with some angel named Castiel. He's kind of a dick but he's a huge help. Dean's okay. She's still around so to be honest I don't know where his head is. You need to call him. He needs you."

"No. I'm not calling him. For once Dean Fucking Winchester can get his head out of his ass, stop thinking about his dick and care about something other than food and the Impala." I don't know if it was because I was still stuck in the mad phase of this whole ordeal or if I'm just that hormonal."

"Easy Mama Bear." He let out a low laugh. "I agree. We are near Lawrence so I'll try to swing by and visit."

"That sounds great. I miss my best friend."

"I miss you too. Hey I got to go, okay?"

"Yeah sure go back to saving the world. Sam, do me a favor please. Take care of Dean."

"You got it, (y/n). Take care of yourself, we got two little hunters now."

"Bye Sam." I hung up the phone as started crying, again. I swear the wind could blow the wrong way and I will start crying.

I grab my bag and glance in the mirror, wiping away my tears.

"Hunters don't cry, dude. You got this. Come on. Second degree black belt, professional sniper skills, fake FBI agent, and mom to two ass kickers. You got this." I gave myself a little pep talk to calm myself down. I was in for the next six hours of shopping and baby planning. With pink and rhinestones for two little girls.

Tags: @strawberryjuiceboxxx @keep-calm-and-omfg-jensen-ackles

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Chai Chai Again

Part One: Mathmatically Speaking Part Two: All About Chemistry

Part Three: Chai Chai Again

Combined with this prompt from @tisfan‘s personal collection:

@dreamcatchersdaughter said:If you are still accepting prompts I have something wonderful in mind: Tea puns, magic, winteriron, and Bucky and Tony loving tea.  (Sorry, Dreamy, you didn’t get anything you asked for aside from winteriron and puns, but I hope there are enough puns to satisfy...I threw in a bonus Rhodey, though.)

Two sort of dates on Friday (coffee, and studying) another one on Sunday -- catching a movie at the second run theater -- and Bucky was walking on cloud nine when he sat down in Multivariable Calculus. Despite the teasing and innuendos, they hadn’t had sex, which was fine with Bucky, he was in no particular hurry. And making out with Tony in the back stairwell of his dorm had been enough of a turn on without rushing things along.

So, Bucky was kinda expecting Tony to get to class (probably late, because that was predictable by this point) and sit with him.

Five minutes into class, and no Tony. Bucky kept checking the time, his eyes flicking between Professor Grey and the clock so regularly that the hands on the clock never seemed to move. What the hell even? Tony hadn’t missed class since the semester started. Late, yeah, he was late all the damn time, but…

Not that he had to be taking the class. He’d told Bucky as much; that he was the TA and he only sat through the lectures because he didn’t have a class and it was useful to know what Grey had been lecturing on when students came to him for help.

Maybe it was Bucky; that Tony hadn’t had as much fun on their dates, or had been disappointed that they hadn’t led anywhere further than a bit of frantic necking or…

Stop it, Barnes. Working himself into a tizzy wasn’t doing any good. Maybe Tony just had a headache. Or slept late. Or…

Class ended. No Tony. Bucky frowned, tugged his backpack up on his shoulder, and headed to the library. He had work to do, and now he was behind in class again because he hadn’t been paying attention to today’s lecture at all. Fuck.

Wednesday came and went, Tony free.

Bucky, who’d maybe a little bit been stalking the Facebook page for Zarathustra’s, dropped in on Thursday during Natasha’s shift. He ate two cinnamon buns and drank enough coffee to hotwire a rhino, but Tony never showed up there, either. Bucky did his best to ignore the pitying looks Natasha was giving him over the espresso machine, too. She didn’t say anything, at least, about the fact that Bucky was being a weird stalker guy.

(ware the readmore cut. I’m told if you go to tumblr on your browser instead of the mobile ap for devices, that you’ll be able to read it in toto from there.)

When Tony didn’t show up to class on Friday, Bucky was getting over being hurt and all the way to worried. Where the hell was he? He hadn’t been available for office hours and Professor Grey had said she hadn’t seen him when Bucky asked, but didn’t have anything else to say, already checking her email on her phone and walking away.

Bucky sighed. He knew what dorm Tony was in, but that could take a while, especially since it wasn’t a freshman dorm and probably didn’t have cutesy name-labels over the doors. He gathered up his books and headed out to the library, trying to figure out what to do.

“Hey, you Bucky Barnes?” A tall black man with a beaky nose, his clothes neatly pressed and looking very… official, asked.

“Who’s asking?”

“Jim Rhodes,” the man said. “I’m Tony’s best friend and he needs some serious help right now. I was hoping, since he spent all last weekend talking my ear off about you, that you might give me a hand.”

Bucky’s heart pounded in his chest. “Is he okay?”

“By some definitions,” Jim said, “no, not really. Come on.”

“What --”

“It’ll be easier to show you than tell you,” Jim said. “Look, you like him, right?”

Bucky frowned. “That’s kinda a personal question,” he said. “How do you even know --”

Jim stopped and looked at him pointedly. “You’re the only ‘emo-punk with a great ass and dreamy eyes’ in that class. I guessed.” Jim made finger-quotes around the descriptor, which had Bucky blushing.

Jim led him through campus over to the engineering labs, down the elevator and stopped outside one of the labs. He grabbed a thermos and a brown paper bag off the table and shoved it in Bucky’s direction. “Go in, talk to him, get him to eat something. Maybe, if we’re really lucky, you can talk him into leaving the lab. Go slow, he gets spooked sometimes when he’s like this.”

“Like what?”

“Science-y,” Jim said, waving a hand around. “Look, all I know is that Howard called him and Tony’s been in the lab since Sunday night.”

“What’s in this?”

“Herbal tea,” Jim said. “It makes him sleepy. Boy needs to sleep somewhere other than face planted on his keyboard.”

“Why aren’t you --”

“Because Tony is the absolute best at ignoring me,” Jim said, resigned. “Maybe the guy he’s got a crush on will be better. Just try, okay?”

Crush? Hmm. Bucky couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. “All right.”

Bucky opened the door and pushed inside the lab. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting; Tony TA’d for a math professor, but they’d never talked about what Tony was actually studying, only what Bucky intended to do with his life (he really wanted to design cars, and thought that circuitry might be a good place to start, cars all had computers in them, these days.)

“Holy shit,” Bucky said, stopping a few feet inside the lab.

Apparently Tony was a robotics engineer.

Tony, who looked like he hadn’t showered in days, was shaking minutely as he assembled a joint configuration, turned to poke at a computer screen, and then checked blueprints on his desk, muttering the whole time while holding a socket wrench in his teeth.

“Well, that can’t be good for you,” Bucky said. “Seriously, not sanitary.” He crossed the room (Tony hadn’t even noticed him yet) and put himself directly in the path between the chair and the second computer screen.

“Don’t have time to talk now, Rhodey,” Tony said, not even looking. How he managed to make that comprehensible with his teeth still clamped around the wrench, Bucky didn’t even want to know.

“You don’t have to talk,” Bucky said. “I’m sure I wouldn’t understand any of this anyway. I’m struggling with math class. But…” He poured out a capful of the tea and very carefully took the wrench out of Tony’s mouth. “You probably need some fluids in you. Your friend Jim says you’ve been in here all week.”

“Jim, nobody…” and Tony looked up. “Bucky? What the hell are you doing in -- how long have you been here? What day is it?” Tony rubbed at his eyes with one hand, almost putting his eye out with the stylus he was still carrying. “Yeah, did you bring me coffee? I love people who bring me coffee, they are my favorite.” He grabbed the cup took two swallows and made an absolutely disgusted face.

“I take it back, I do not love you at all, what the hell is this swill?”

“Tea,” Bucky said. “The uncaffeinated kind, if your friend has any sense at all.”

“Well, I suppose hones-tea is the best policy,” Tony said. He made another face, sticking his tongue out and wiping his sleeve over it.

“Tea, good,” Bucky said, then fished in the bag. “Sandwich?”

“Really? Rhodey’s involved in this? I must say, very naugh-tea of him. Bribery. Blackmail. Something. It’s revolting.”

“He thought you might talk to me,” Bucky said, wincing a little around the pun. “Glad he did, I been worried sick about you all week.”

“All week?” Tony scoffed. “I think you’re overstating the gravi-tea of this situation, it’s only… wait. What day is it?”

Bucky sighed and forced the sandwich into Tony’s hand, then pushed against the back of his wrist until it got somewhere near his face. “Eat that, and then talk.”

Tony rolled his eyes expressively. “Worry wart,” he accused, then took a bite, which seemed to trigger some sort of response in him, because a few seconds later there was nothing left of the sandwich but crumbs. “Oh, that was good. Little dry, tho. Hit me with your best pot.”

Bucky groaned. “You and your terrible puns.” He poured another cup of tea. “So, what are you doing?”

Tony took a sip, grimaced, and went back to poking at the computer screen. “My dad called,” Tony explained. “We’re not exactly on terms, but I’m the only heir he’s got, so consider it top-notch job securi-tea --” Bucky shook his head, hiding his face with his hands, Jesus Christ, someone needed to stop Tony from abusing the language this way “-- and he needed an assist with a project. Not that he’d ever phrase it that way.”

“So, you’ve been working non-stop for five days? It’s Friday, now, by the way, and I’m two classes behind in MVC because I can’t pay attention because I’ve been worried about you.”

Tony blinked, swallowed the rest of his tea. “Well, I feel guil-tea now.”

“Oh, my god,” Bucky complained, “will you just leaf it alone?”

“Nothing to tea here, move oolong,” Tony snapped back, a wide grin across his face. “Wait, Friday? Really? How did it --” Tony pulled his cellphone out of his back pocket and… “Well, shit. Battery died. Is Grey pissed with me? I think I missed office hours.”

“Yes, you did,” Bucky said. “I know, because I went to your office. And the coffee shop. I was getting ready to start a floor-to-floor search of your dorm when your friend commandeered my services.”

Tony dug around in the paper bag and liberated a bag of chips, shoving a whole handful of barbeque chips into his mouth all at once, chewing noisily.

“Oh, that’s just brew-tea-ful,” Bucky commented, “your table manners, I mean.”

Tony laughed, sprayed chip bits everywhere, and hastily covered his mouth with his hand. “Unfair, that’s a foul, penal-tea, red card, red card. Not allowed to make bad puns while I’m eating.”

Bucky only raised an eyebrow. “You know, I hear Karl Marx hates Earl Grey.”

“I’m almost positive I don’t want to know why,” Tony muttered, finding another box at the bottom of the bag. “Oooh, jelly doughnuts. I changed my mind, Rhodey is absolutely my favorite.”

“Because all proper tea is theft,” Bucky said.

“Oh, that’s awful, that’s like really, really terrible. Honestly, I don’t even know what to do with that, because… do you take classes to be that unfunny?”

“Hey, I only drink ice tea, because ice was water, waaaay before it was cool,” Bucky said, popping his collar and looking down his nose at Tony.

“I’ve created a monstrosi-tea,” Tony mourned.

“Probably,” Bucky said. “Now, your friend wanted me to see if I could get you to get some rest, so, maybe, could I walk you back to your dorm?”

Tony pondered the question. “Do you think it’s okay to steep together, so soon?”

Ug. “Tony, stop,” Bucky pleaded. “Come on. This’ll keep until tomorrow, promise.”

Tony sighed, yawned. “You’re probably right,” he admitted. “If nothing else, Howard doesn’t expect me to be done with it for another few weeks, so --”

“Trying to prove him wrong by getting it done in five days?”

“Well, seven days, maybe,” Tony said. He yawned again, so heroically that Bucky’s jaw hurt, just watching him.

“Do I need to carry you to bed?”

“Oh, would you?” Tony pressed the back of his hand to his forehead and made as if to swoon. Which turned into real swooning, and it was a good thing that Bucky used to play baseball and was pretty damn good at fielding, because he had to catch Tony before Tony hit the floor.

“Right. Bed.” Bucky turned around and bent down a bit. “Climb on, idiot.”

Tony didn’t hesitate, climbing on piggy-back and let Bucky link his hands under Tony’s thighs to hold him in place. He laid his head down on Bucky’s back. “This is nice,” he said, then, as he punched the button for the elevator, “I can think of something nicer, though.”

Bucky knew -- knew mind you -- that he was going to regret asking and did anyway. “What would that be?”

“Elevator sex,” Tony said,  “is great on so many levels.”

“You’re a terrible, terrible person, and I should drop you,” Bucky said.

“But you won’t.”

“Probably not, no.”