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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years

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Four Little Sips

Day 28, Post #2

Title: Four Little Sips

Author: JohnMcHacker

Pairings: Harry/Bill/Charlie (platonic), Harry/Ginny (romantic), Gryffindor Quidditch Team (platonic), Fred/George/Ron (platonic), Ron/Hermione (romantic)

Prompt: In Vino Veritas

Rating: PG

Trigger Warnings: Alcoholism, Referenced death, Language

Note to admin: Thanks for organising, this is my first time submitting, sorry if I'm late or if it doesn't meet requirements. I have also posted to the AO3 collection.

* * *

You see, Harry had never really had anyone just a few years older to look up to. Alright, there was Hermione, but they were classmates and best friends and at roughly the same place in life, it wasn’t the same.

That summer of 1998, in the wake of all that pain and death and sorrow, the Weasleys pulled together and pulled him in with them. On a few occasions, this meant having a few drinks with Bill and Charlie, in various nondescript Muggle pubs in the vicinity of Ottery St Catchpole.

“Just because Kingsley cut you some slack doesn’t mean you have to take the offer,” said Charlie. “You’ve spent your whole life fighting Voldemort, one way or anoher. You deserve to take a break. Live a little. Or else, what have you been fighting for?”

Harry thought of several memorable sunlit days, and found he couldn’t really disagree.

“Or at the very least, know why you’re putting your life on the line, once again,” said Bill. “Well, alright, you were the Chosen One, you had your job to do then. But now that that’s over, you ought to think twice why you’re risking your neck on your own account.”

“Well, I think I’d be good at it,” said Harry. “And someone has to do it. The Aurors are short-handed and too many of Voldemort’s thugs are still out there.”

Bill shook his head, munching a handful of chips. “That’s not good enough. Merlin knows I’d love a crack at the bastards myself. But your neck’s not just your own now, Harry. Ginny has a say too. That’s part of what being together means.”

“Muggle birds ain’t bad,” said Charlie, nodding at a trio of pretty college-age girls gathered round a table across the pub. They caught him watching, giggled, and winked in reply. “Don’t limit yourself to witches. But if you do, don’t mess ‘em around, play fair, and come clean as soon as you can.”

“The most important part of my relationship with Fleur is trust,” said Bill. “We don’t have secrets, and she trusts that I won’t suddenly run off hunting Death Eaters or dragons or Hor... whatever. And I trust her not to do the same.”

“Family’s what it comes down to,” said Charlie, draining his glass.

“Family,” nodded Bill. “Your first responsibility.”

“My shout,” said Harry, because that was something else they had taught him was right, to stand his round, and he went to the bar to get the drinks. When he returned, they had moved on to other important matters.

“Free advice, Potter, take it or leave it,” said Charlie, tapping the side of his nose, “women; you’ll never go wrong if you please ‘em first, know what I mean?”

“Oi! That’s our sister you’re talking about!” snapped Bill, trying not to laugh.

“So what? She’s got fi... four of you looking out for her. Maybe I just want to see fair play.” Charlie winked at Harry. “Let me tell you about what I call ‘wandless magic’, and trust me, it is magic.”

“That’s it, you’re done, Perce is my new number two, it’s you that Mum and Dad should disown...”

“There’s more where that came from, Harry. You want to know how to beat Ron at chess? He can’t play gambits worth a damn. Stick with me, I’ll show you something called a Smith-Morra, aye?”

Advice, experience, honour, laughter. Maybe this was what it was like to have older brothers, thought Harry. It filled a hole in him he never even knew he had.

* * *

Oliver would never have allowed it, but Angelina Johnson was a more fun-loving kind of Quidditch Captain. She passed the word around quietly, and so the five Gryffindor players above the age of sixteen met in the changing rooms fifteen minutes before Potter and the younger Weasley were due to arrive. Of course it was the Twins who’d acquired the goods, however they managed it. Fred produced the bottle of Ogden’s from somewhere under his robes with a flourish, and George grinned toothily as he conjured shot glasses from thin air.

“Alright, I know it was my idea, but just the one, got it?” warned Angelina, pouring the drinks herself.

“Aye aye, Captain,” said Fred. George sketched a sloppy salute her way.

Katie Bell was practically trembling with excitement and nerves. “Oooh, this’ll be my first drink ever,” she said, holding up the glass of amber liquid to catch the light. “Are you sure we won’t get caught?” she asked, looking around as if expecting McGonagall to burst out of a locker at any time.

“Course we can’t be sure,” said Alicia Spinnet. “That’s part of the fun!”

Angelina looked round at each of them, and shouted “For the Cup!”

“FOR THE CUP!” they chorused, and knocked back the Firewhiskey.

Two years later, the three Chasers were standing at the bar of the Hog’s Head, but they had Oliver back now, and Angelina knew somehow that that was important, they were going to go to Hogwarts and find Fred and George and Harry and reunite the whole Team, and it meant she had to do this. She leaned over the counter, rummaged through the grimy bottles and found what she was looking for.

“You’re mad!” said Oliver incredulously.

“Probably,” said Alicia cheerfully, “but we did this every match and still won the Cup, didn’t we? Sixth-years and above only, of course, we had standards,” she said, catching Oliver’s outraged look.

“Don’t tell me you’re going into a real battle and don’t want a drink, Oliver,” said Angelina calmly as she poured, and that was that.

Alicia and Katie and Oliver looked at her expectantly. Angelina searched for the words, and found there was really only one thing suited to the occasion. “Fuck Voldemort.”

“FUCK VOLDEMORT!”

And they did.

But oh God, the price they paid.

* * *

The Leaky was too well-known so they usually frequented a tiny hole-in-the-wall further down the street. The clientele was younger and the enchanted jukebox played muggle hits as well as the Weird Sisters, Mega Maggots, and the Bent Banshees, and that was perfect for the Twins. Perhaps half the entire current range of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes had first been dreamed up in this pub.

“Alright, alright, what about this, George? Prank greeting cards.”

“You’re crazy, Fred.”

“Cards that won’t stop singing. Howler cards. Exploding confetti cards. Exploding firework cards!”

George finished his beer and signalled to the barman for another. The barman hesitated, then poured as George slapped a handful of Sickles on the counter. “Confetti yes, fireworks, I dunno,” said George. “Cheers, Fred.”

“It’s brilliant I tell you. Mud in your eye,” said his twin brother, and they drank. Then, quietly, Fred asked: “How’s the family?”

“Same old. They’re doing well. You should see the sprogs, it’s a hoot,” snickered George. “Ron and Gin and Harry and good ol’ Hermione, sneaking around trying not to get caught shagging like rabbits. God, the sights I’ve walked in on...”

Fred chortled along with George, and he finished the pint. The bell over the door jingled and new customers came in, but the twins barely glanced that way.

“Speaking of which. About her... you should do something about it, George,” said Fred kindly. “I see all the signs and I know you do too. She’s waiting on you. Go be a gentleman, Georgey-boy, go on.”

George sighed. “Not you too. Look, I get enough of this crap from Bill and Charlie, alright?”

“You two need each other. Besides, it’s too quiet around the flat.”

All at once, George’s face crumpled. “You don’t get to say that. Not you. Not you! YOU don’t say that!”

Fred said nothing, he only smiled, and walked away. George turned his head quickly to follow him, but as always, Fred slid out the corner of his eye and was g...

And then it was another Weasley brother standing in front of him.

This time, it was Ron they’d sent. Good old Ron, lanky and solid and biting his lip in sympathy as he came to find his older brother sitting alone at the bar hunched over a half-empty glass. On the counter beside him was one untouched full pint, the frothy head long since evaporated.

“Come on, George,” said Ron gently. “There, I’ve got you. Let’s get you home.”

* * *

She was a girl made of facts and reason.

That was just the way she was wired.

“Dutch courage,” she said to herself, eyeing the glass of probably cheap plonk as if it was poison. Which technically it was.

“What’s that?” asked Ginny.

“Dutch courage,” she repeated. “It’s a muggle term, meaning the confidence gained from drinking alcohol, according to the Cambridge English Dictionary. Although,” she amended, “it’s derogatory to Dutch people and we probably shouldn’t say things like that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind in case I meet anyone from Orange Tulip Land,” said Ginny, rolling her eyes. “You certainly don’t need that sort of thing, Hermione, you’re one of the bravest people I know!”

Probably just hyperbole, thought Hermione, as that would be quite something, given that Ginny hung around with Aurors and Quidditch players and her boyfriend Harry Potter, or ‘His Excellency Most Spiffing Chosen Boy Who Lived To Kick Voldemort’s Arse’ as George called him. She picked up the glass, sipped it carefully, decided she quite liked the taste of Chateau Diagon Alley or whatever this was, and had a bigger swig.

Here’s a fun fact: it takes 6 minutes for the brain to react to alcohol.

Six minutes later, she didn’t think she felt any different. Warmer perhaps, but the New Year party was in full swing and Hermione thought maybe it was just the ambient temperature rising from all the people circulating, moving, dancing, talking, laughing.

Fun fact: drinking is ‘fun’ because alcohol lessens tension, eases social interaction, and reduces inhibitions.

Hermione sat in her corner and nursed her glass and knew she wasn’t really a social drinker, or any kind of drinker, or even at all ‘sociable’ to begin with. She envied how effortlessly Ginny and Bill and Parvati and everyone else were visibly enjoying themselves; Hermione would honestly prefer a nice book, a pot of peppermint tea, and perhaps with the company of...

Breathless from joking with Aurors and Obliviators and Patrolwizards and friends, Ron flung himself down beside her and threw an arm around her, and Hermione’s stomach fluttered pleasantly. “Alright there, Hermione?” He followed her gaze towards the wineglass. “Not poisoned, is it? Cause that’s no fun, believe me.”

Fact: I want to say I...

“That’s not funny, Ron, you could’ve died,” chided Hermione, although she couldn’t help giggling. “No, I just... it’s Dutch courage.”

“What’s that?” Hermione told him about English soldiers and gin and bravery, and the way he looked at her as he listened made her feel warm all over. “Nice. You know everything, Hermione,” Ron said admiringly.

“Not everything,” said Hermione wistfully. “I don’t know how to have fun at parties. Well, maybe that’s one more thing I do know now,” she joked lamely.

Fact: I...

Ron laughed at her probably atrocious attempt at humour, and said “Rubbish party anyway. Too many plonkers just wanting to be seen with heroes like Harry and Neville” (characteristically, Ron excluded himself from that category, Hermione observed) “and they’re only here because Kingsley said they absolutely had to be. I’d much rather have a quiet night in at home with you, Crookshanks, a nice fire, maybe a...”

No, I don’t know everything, thought Hermione. But I know this fact. “I love you, Ron Weasley.” And she grabbed him and snogged the hell out of him, ignoring the catcalls and cheers that rose all around.

Was it really the Dutch stuff, or was it all her own self, after all?

To be continued...

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest platonic #canon fest romantic #submission #tw: alcoholism #tw: referenced death #tw: language

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plumbsimplytx · 3 years

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sewerlinekaty · 1 year

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lefaystrent · 5 years

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Has virgil ever had a break down infront of anyone in the nursing home au. Like freaked out becuse of police sirens outside of the building or on tv or a documetery of prision is played on the luchroom tv when he went to make" fucking mac and cheese™️" also im sad now cus all i think of is logan dying and then a when romans about to die he tells virgil "i know what my next adventure is. Im going to find Logan. Dont worry ill be fine" and thencloses his eyes to sleep but dosent wake up;-;.

First of all, hello sadness! Loganis the first to go yes, and you can bet your bottom dollar Roman would saysomething along those lines. (Or alternatively, the both of them discover thefountain of youth and never have to die. :D)

As for Virgil, he tries his very hardestnot to show his weaknesses, but sometimes…they just happen. The first time it happens in front of other people at the nursing home is written below the cut.

WARNINGS: in-depth descriptions of a panic attack, ptsd

Nursing Home AU Masterlist

It happens when Virgil is inRemus’s room cleaning up one of his messes.

Remus adamantly disagrees on theterminology of his ‘messes’.

“It’s art! You prudes wouldn’t haveany artistic sense if it bit you in the butthole!”

Virgil snorts, “You could have justleft it with ‘butt’.”

The old man grins, showing off asmile that’s missing half of its teeth. “But butthole sounds so much juicier.”

“I will pay you to never say thatagain.”

“This is payback for destroying mylife’s work.”

Virgil looks at him with a raisedbrow.

Then he looks pointedly back at thewall that features a giant penis drawn with smeared ketchup.

Virgil has no idea where Remussmuggled this much ketchup into his room.

Patton comes into the room. Heglances at the ‘artwork’ on the wall and doesn’t look the slightest bitsurprised. Someone must have spread the word to him.

Remus doesn’t look at all ashameddespite Patton’s disapproving expression.

“We’ve talk about this,” Pattonadmonishes.

“You talked, I ignored.”

“Remus. No…phallic imagerydisplayed in the building.”

“THIS IS HOMOPHOBIC!” Remusscreeches.

Virgil just shakes his head andcontinues wiping down the wall.

For the next couple of minutes helistens to the two of them talk behind him. Patton continues to try to reasonwith Remus, and Remus continues to be unreasonable. Same song and dance asevery day.

But then Remus yells something thatsticks with Virgil.

“This place is a prison!” hebemoans. “Give me back my freedom, George Washington!”

And it’s kinda funny and Remus’sstyle of random and dramatic, but …

This place is aprison.

Maybe. In some ways.

Like the small cell-like rooms.

Or not being allowed to leave for manyof those who lived here.

Seeing the same faces day in andday out.

Always having eyes on you, watchingeverything you do.

But for the most part?

You didn’t have to worry if yourcellmate would strangle you in your sleep.

Or keeping your head down in thecafeteria, because last time you made eye contact with someone they took it asa challenge.

Or choosing to forsake personalhygiene just so you wouldn’t leave yourself open to being cornered in theshowers.

The way they’d size you up quick aspredator or prey, and God help you if they thought of you as the latter.

As scared shitless as Virgil hadbeen, crying into his pillow almost every night because it was always so coldand the thin standard blanket did nothing to fight the chill…

Virgil had never in his life had toact so tough and mean. He learned to spit his words harshly enough to makeothers second guess their assumptions of an easy target. He hissed and bit anyhand that tried to touch him.

Virgil doesn’t realize at first,but he has stopped cleaning up Remus’s mess.

His hand lingers, rag pressedagainst the wall until it drags down and lays limply.

He stares, and while the beigepaint brings warmth to the room, it somehow fades to the steel gray he had tosee day after day.

Distantly he hears voices behindhim, but they become a muted hum, like the echoes from down the row of cells.He can hear footsteps, the guards pacing up the corridor.

“Virgil?”

A hand on his shoulder.

It burns like acid.

Virgil’s entire body tenses up, alive wire ready to strike but his vision’s gone all tunnel-y and he can’t seewhere the enemy is.

“Virgil. Virgil, what’s wrong?”

“Don’t. Touch. Me,” Virgil pushesthe words out with all the effort it takes to move a car out of a muddy bank.

He’s just now catching on thatmaybe he’s having a panic attack, but that doesn’t stop it from happening. Ifanything, it just makes it worse and he struggles to decipher past frompresent. It all muddles together, and he can’t move, can’t turn his head, can’tstop staring at the gray—brown—gray wall.

“Don’t touch me,” Virgil saysagain, breath kicking into a concerning pace. “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me,don’t ever fucking touch me.”

All at once the hand is gone.

The burn of acid remains.

Patton is at a complete loss.

Virgil was fine just a minute ago.

But then he’d gotten quiet— which wasn’tunlike him, ya know? But he hadn’t responded to either of them when spoken todirectly, and that definitely was unlike him.

So Patton tried to get hisattention, thinking maybe he’d been lost in thought.

He’d never seen Virgil’s eyes sowide and terrified.

And his shoulders, they startedmoving up and down as his breathing shallowed out.

And his words—so aggressive thatPatton genuinely believed for a second that Virgil was one second away fromlashing out at him.

Patton keeps his hands to himselfafter that, but he lingers beside Virgil, reluctant to leave him likethis—whatever this is.

Is he angry at Patton? Upset withwhat they were talking about? Patton begs Virgil to tell him what’s going on,but it’s like Virgil can’t even hear him.

“Just keep talking to him,” Remussuggests.

“It’s not working though,” Pattonsays, voice dripping with worry. Virgil’s really starting to edge towardshyperventilating. An allergic reaction? But Virgil has never mentioned—and hehasn’t eaten anything recently—

“What’s going on here?” Dee asks,poking his head in.

Virgil can hear him at the doorway,kind of like in an out of body sort of way.

He’s never had a freak out this badaround them—had been so proud of himself for making it this long.

Now their eyes are on him, andVirgil feels their pinprick gazes stabbing into the back of his neck. The panicramps up another couple of notches.

Patton looks pleadingly at Dee.“He’s—he’s having some kind of attack. I don’t know what happened.”

“Oh shit,” Dee says eloquently.

For all that Dee oozes confidenceand spins pretty words, comforting an emotionally distressed rival is kinda outof his range of specialties. He stands there, slack-jawed and hesitating.

That won’t do at all.

“Just fucking talk to him,” Remussays bitingly and gets up from his bed.

He ambles over to Virgil and pullsa chair up close enough to him but far away enough to not startle him.

Virgil startles anyway.

“Whatever you’re seeing, kid, it’snot real,” Remus tells him. His eyes are bright and mad and clever. “They wantyou to think it’s real, and yeah okay, it was real at some point, wasn’t it? Butit’s not anymore. You’re not there. It’s over. You can come out now.”

It takes a minute, and Virgilshudders, and tears are streaming down his face.

But he’s listening.

Remus leans forward, elbows proppedon his knees. “You’re safe now. They already did the hurting. So tell them togo fuck themselves. They don’t get to touch you anymore.”

Virgil slows to a calm.

He feels numb.

Drained.

But the walls have stopped crushinghim and he can breathe again.

“Better?” Patton asks from theother side of him. He never left his side for a moment.

Virgil nods jerkily, unable to talkat the moment.

“Need anything? Water? Anything?”

Virgil takes too long to think,thoughts sluggish.

“Let’s go talk to Logan!” Remusblurts out.

He hops out of his chair andmotions for Virgil to stand. Noticeably, he doesn’t try touching Virgil. Heholds out his hand in offer if Virgil needs help standing up.

“His nerdy talk can bore you rightto sleep. Let’s go, Emo. Upsy-daisy.”

Virgil takes his hand and stands.

He hesitates, gesturing at the wallas if to say, “But I still need to clean it up.”

Remus waves his concern off. “Don’tworry about that. Dee will clean it up. Dee loves cleaning up mymesses.”

Dee gives him a dark look butdoesn’t say anything. He stands aside and lets the two of them leave the room,Remus guiding a quiet Virgil by the hand.

Patton remains, though he staresafter them. “I’m still not sure what happened. He was fine and then … Iguess something must have triggered it.”

Dee shrugs, rubbing his glovedhands together self-consciously. “Everyone has their own demons.”

And when Remus had seen Virgildescend into the madness of memory, like had recognized like.

_______________________________________________________________

General Tag List: @spectralheartt @a-pastel-pan @rose-gold-roman @ijustrealizedhowdumbmynamewas @katie-the-noble-fangirl @yourroyalydramaticanxiousness @aroundofapplesauce @merlybird500 @beach-fan @jemthebookworm @randomsandersides @gamerfreddie @unring-this-bell @analogicallythinking @lilygold23 @levy-the-b00kw0rm @tacochippy @accio-hufflepuff-power1 @just-another-rainbowblog @georganabanana @grey-says-heck @crookedlyoptimisticdestiny @thesynysterunknown @idont-know-what-im-doing @idioticsky @fadingglowcloud @whizzie72 @theinvisiblespoon @greyyy523 @opaque-puppet @just-fic-me-up @wowimsogoddamnoriginal @sos-fandoms @loganeatsbooks @trust-is-overrated @theitalianalchemist @im-crunchie @mourning–star @4amanxiety @hogwarts-my-love @enby-phoenix @justanotherpurplebutterfly @internet-or-sleep @absolutesandersidestrash @seaspider10 @nonasficcollection @satanblessi @an-absolute-failure @analogical-mess @noisyeggpizzapatrol @hamilsandersfam @cefinitely-rolo @thgjclw @knight-shives @no-no-no-no-6 @savingshae @rabbitsartcorner @buddypallady @midnight-tragedyy @007ardra @fandomloverangel @dorkoverse @moodytrash06 @mirrorz-n-starz @idunnosong @lcrnbw @ollyollyoxinfree @cuter-on-the-inside @its-high-time-that-i-dropped-in @crazy-rat-man @i-need-a-life-8903 @modsnow

Nursing Home List: @thirteenashmctrash @figurative-falsehood @oddball-wqri@comicsimpson @hit-or-mish @delphionix @rabbitsartcorner @nugs-and-hugs-not-drugs @toostressedforthisbs @fluctuating-fangirl @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @bestbluebouquet @the-aroace-queen-in-the-quiver @logans-doodles @herestheanxietea @theblankest123 @lia-quanz

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what-is-your-plan-today · 5 years

Text

CSI: Rogers and Barnes- The Serious Cereal Serial Killer

Episode 1- Walk of Shame

Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Episode Summary: Someone’s dead. Bucky has some plums and despairs at Steve’s choice of breakfast. They go to DC to try and convince Katie to come back and help with the case but she aint having it…coz she hates Steve’s guts… Episode Warnings: Bad Language words. Dark Comedy themes basically CSI:NY + Brooklyn 99 = CSI: Steeb.

Episode Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark (yeah she still doesn’t like him this Episode…)

Song for Episode: Let Her Go by Passenger

A/N: Contains Avengers and Stark Spangled Banner Easter Eggs and jokes. You don’t need to have read that series to understand or enjoy this, but we’ve used the Universe to spin this off from.

Also, our knowledge of American Policing and Brooklyn is limited, so bear with us if we slip up, but at the end of the day this is a fiction so we’ll claim any mistakes as creative license!!

PLEASE REBLOG and COMMENT!

Tags are open.

CSI Rogers and Barnes Master List

Main Masterlist

Steve turned the key in the lock of his apartment, stepped inside and closed the door behind him as slowly and quietly as possible so as not to wake up Bucky. It was still quite early, he had been on the usual morning run with Sam, something that the men did daily during the week unless work cases got in the way. He walked through the hallway and tossed his keys on the kitchen counter before grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. He practically drained it in one before he set a fresh pot of coffee to brew and then headed for the shower. He stopped on his way down the corridor as he saw the door to the spare bedroom, now Bucky’s, was wide open. Steve peered into the bedroom but there was no trace of Bucky and his bed was perfectly made, cushions in place. He sighed and went into his own bedroom, taking off his clothes and trainers and heading into the en-suite. He turned on the shower and stepped under the warm spray, tilting his head to greet the water as it cascaded down on him.

Bucky had returned from an undercover mission in Russia almost 7 months ago and had immediately taken possession of the spare room in Steve’s apartment. What had started as a favour to a friend who had returned from a long term mission overseas and was trying now to re-settle in New York, had turned into Steve seemingly permanently (and reluctantly for that matter) sharing his flat with his lead Sergeant and sometimes annoying friend. Their personalities were as opposed as day and night, but there was a bond between them that went back to their teenage years and both secretly hoped it would last till the end of the line.

Rinsing off his hair he turned off the shower and stepped out. He gave his hair a quick rub over and then, wrapping a towel round his waist he headed into the bedroom and over to the dresser which stood against the wall by the foot of his bed. His eyes fell to the framed photo on the top of it and he blew out a little huff as 2 laughing faces greeted him back. It was a photo of him and Katie, a selfie that she had snapped whilst they had been in Central Park. Katie had positioned them to get a squirrel in the back ground and it had worked. Just as Katie had pushed the button the squirrel had looked directly at the camera from behind them and it had sent the pair of them into a fit of laugher. Up until Bucky moving in, this photo had been in his living room by the stereo. But now it stayed in the private of his room. He couldn’t bring himself to place it in a drawer.

He dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a white t-shirt, before grabbing his electric razor to sort his facial hair out, ensuring his once again present (albeit shorter than before) beard was clean, crisp and defined. Once he had finished the rest of his morning routine he made his way to the kitchen and poured himself freshly brewed coffee into his favoured breakfast mug, one that was adored with the words “O Captain! My Captain!” a quote from the poem by Walt Whitman as read by Robin Williams in “Dead Poet Society” one of his favourite films. It had been a joke gift from Katie when he had gotten his promotion, just another reminder of how good their friendship used to be. He had just grabbed a piece of left over pizza from the fridge when the front door open and he heard Bucky taking off his shoes as he muttered something under his breath. When Bucky entered the kitchen Steve was leaning on the kitchen counter sipping from his mug and looking at his friend from under his long eyelashes.

“That your breakfast?“ Steve asked nodding towards a brown paper bag Bucky was sporting.

"Yup. That yours?” he answered looking at the pizza in Steve’s hand Steve shrugged. “Man, have a plum instead” Bucky offered.

"No, thanks.“ Steve refused curtly.

"You know breakfast is the most important meal of the day, don’t you?” Bucky quipped, biting into a plum. “That nutrition program you took years ago clearly didn’t teach you shit” he snorted.

“You’re hilarious" Steve deadpanned. “Where did you sleep last night? Or should that be with WHOM did you sleep last night?” Steve was asking both out of curiosity and as a way to distract attention from his eating habits. “What’s the dame’s name this time? That’s if you even bothered to ask.”

Bucky rolled his eyes as Steve drained his mug. “Name’s Alex seeing as you’re that interested, granddad.” Bucky informed. Steve merely arched an eyebrow and shoved his now empty mug in the dishwasher.

“I’m impressed” Steve said, walking out of the kitchen and heading to the living room “Have you remembered what Miss Friday was called yet?” “Maybe I always knew full well but didn’t want to tell you as you’re a judgemental dick.” Bucky shot back, following him into the living room “Just because you’re not getting any.”

Steve snorted and shook his head “I really don’t care about the fact you seem to be working your way through the entire female population of New York…” “Admit it, you’re backed up.” Bucky said, looking at him and Steve rolled his eyes. “When was the last time you got any?”

Steve really wasn’t prepared to divulge that. It had been Christmas time, with Katie…7 months ago. And he had no desire to tell Bucky. Instead, he ignored him and looked at his watch.

“We’re leaving in five” Steve said “Get ready Punk.”

"I am ready, jerk" Bucky replied gesturing to his outfit.

“You’re seriously gonna got to work wearing the same clothes you were wearing yesterday?“ Steve looked at him with an expression of disgust on his face. "Talk about the walk of shame.”

“Well, yesterday was my day off so nobody at the station will know what the hell I was wearing" Bucky replied with a wide playful smile.

"Whatever.“ Steve sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose while saying "Take your weapon and your badge and let’s go, it’s getting late.”

“Aye, Aye Captain” Bucky said miming a salute.

********

“Captain Rogers” greeted the security guard at the door of the station. “Sergeant Barnes.”

“Good morning, Heimdall” Steve greeted back while Bucky acknowledged the man with a nod of his head.

As the pair headed for the floor where the Investigation Unit of the 101st was located, Bucky pulled out his phone and started typing.

“Texting her?” Steve asked looking down at Bucky’s phone.

“Who’s her?” Bucky replied.

“Jeez, Buck, the girl you spent last night with. Alex, was it?” Steve scoffed.

“Oh.., nah.” he said with a frown “What would I?” he continued. “And you can say bang, Steve. You’re not a medieval bard” a mischievous smile now spreading on his face.

“Bucky, I swear to God one day….” Steve started to say but was interrupted by the melodious voice of Wanda as he got out of the elevator, Bucky following him cackling.

“Good morning, Steve.” Wanda said “Coffee?” she asked looking at him with doe eyes.

“No thanks, Wanda. Already had breakfast” he replied while Bucky muttered “If that’s what you call it”. Steve turned to give an icy look to Bucky who retreated to his desk.

“I’ve left the reports you asked for yesterday on your desk.” Wanda informed him. “Would that be all?”

“Thanks, Wanda.” he said before ordering “Assemble the team in the briefing room in fifteen.” and he walked towards where Natasha was scrolling through her phone and Clint was sat on his chair, his feet on the desk throwing a baseball against the nearby wall.

“Morning Romanoff” Steve said. Natasha lifted her eyes from the phone and acknowledged him.

“Rogers.”. She might seem to be engrossed on whatever she was doing with her phone but Steve knew she never missed a trick.

“Barton” the Captain raised his voice “You break something, you’re paying for it. We’re on a tight budget.” and with that he entered his office and shut the door behind him, something that was unusual for their Captain. His door normally remained open unless the conversation was private or he was pissed off.

As there was no one else in there with him, it was clearly the latter.

“He needs to get laid.” Clint said, turning back to Natasha, resuming his bouncing of his baseball again. Bucky let out a snort.

“He sure does” replied Natasha who suddenly threw her phone on her desk and got up to make her way towards Wanda’s counter.

“You should ask him out on a date” she whispered to Wanda leaning over her desk.

“Wh… What are you talking about” Wanda stuttered while closing the book she was reading and feeling the heat spread through her neck up to her cheeks.

“I’ve seen the way you look at him” Natasha added with a half-smile.

“That obvious” Wanda enquired covering her cheeks, which were now deep red, with her hands showing Natasha her chipped black nail polish. Bucky watched the exchange with a slight smirk.

Natasha only shrugged and retorted “Well, you should find the courage to do it in that witchery book you’re reading” she said pointing to the paperback with a movement of her head. “Scarlett Witch”.

Bucky picked up the phone, there was a message on his desk to call Stark about some evidence on a case, turning away to allow Wanda to get over her embarrassment. He heard the voice of Deputy Commissioner Fury and turned to watch as he greeted Natasha and Wanda.

"Good morning, ladies.“

“Good morning Sir…” They both said in unison as her swept past them heading towards Steve’s office. He rapped on the door and didn’t wait for an answer before he swung it open, causing Steve to glance up slightly puzzled. His team knew to wait for him to call them in before entering if his door was closed. At seeing his boss he immediately stood.

“Sir.”

“At ease Captain” The deputy commissioner spoke, waving his hand. Steve gestured for him to take the seat opposite his desk.

“You hear with a mission?”

“You could say that.” Fury said, “Get Barnes in here and close the door. This one’s sensitive.”

“Sir…” Steve frowned slightly and stood up, heading out into the main office.

“Buck…”

Bucky was by this point on the phone, leaning back in his chair feet on his desk. He looked at Steve, nodding to acknowledge him, holding his hand up, finger on his right hand extended instructing Steve to keep quiet.

“That’s great Stark!” he paused, “So it’s definitely a match…excellent, yeah…sure…thanks…”

He placed the phone down “Science Bros got a match on the bullet from the mini-mart robbery. Matches the gun Simon Cranston had in his possession when we brought him in. We got him bang to rights!”

“Good, listen, Buck…Fury’s here. Says he has a case but it’s sensitive…” Understanding immediately Bucky stood up. He smoothed down his blue and white button down and followed Steve into his office, closing the door behind him.

“We have a situation.” Fury said. “Body, found by a dog walker early hours of this morning. Early shift called it in.”

“Ok, well we’ve not held briefing yet…” Bucky said, trailing off as he saw the frown on Steve’s face.

“What is it sir?” “Technically it’s the 99s patch…” Fury said, “But as soon as Peralta realised who it was he called Holt who in turn called me. This is one for the 101st.”

“Why?” Steve asked, frowning.

“It’s Senator Ross.” Fury said, looking at him.

“Shit.” Steve sighed

“I’m not gonna lie Steve, as much as I admire and like Holt, your unit is more geared up for this and the 99 are currently swamped on a drugs case any way so…” Fury shrugged.

“Right, I’ll get the team onto it right away.”

“Odinson and his team are currently manning the scene, I had them take over from Holt’s guys as soon as I found out.” Fury nodded “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that we need absolute discretion about this, at least for the time being. I’ll liaise with the top brass and Capitol Hill. Once we know what we’re dealing with we can discuss how we handle the press. For now, keep them away.” “Sir.” Steve agreed.

“I trust you can take it from here?”

Steve nodded and watched as his boss left before he turned to Bucky. “Get Romanoff and Barton down there now, and then get onto Wilson and Stark. I’ll call Holt, find out the details and sort out taking over. Then we’ll head down there.”

“Sure.” Bucky said, heading out into the office, closing the door behind him.

Steve paused for a second, before he picked up the phone sighing. A murder always attracted attention but when it was a public figure that interest was going to be relentless.

*****

It was almost ten when Steve pulled his car to a stop near Greenway Terrace in Brooklyn Bridge Park. Bucky got out of the car closing the door behind him and put his phone in the back pocket of his black jeans and waited for Steve to reach his side before they both started walking towards the tightly secured area.

They approached Thor who was standing by the Scene Crime Do Not Cross yellow tape ordering to one of his immediate subordinates to remove unnecessary individuals from the scene and keep the tourists and the press as far away as possible. It was a bright July morning and this part of the park offered the tourists, and the public in general, a beautiful shady sitting area with stunning views to New York Harbor.

Once they exchanged a few words with Thor who assured them he would keep the press at bay, they ducked under the tape and headed to the area where Detectives Romanoff and Barton were examining the surroundings of the crime scene.

"Romanoff, Barton. What do we got?” Bucky heard Steve ask the pair of detectives.

He was looking around trying to get used to the scene before him. He had spent the last years mostly doing undercover work, gathering intel, bringing down drugs or arms dealers and smugglers so, it had been a while since he had been in a presumed murder scene.

“We’re sweeping the area for casings or slugs.” Natasha said.

“Nothing, Cap, according to Wilson there’s no gunshot wound, so…” Clint added.

“Footprints? Vehicle tracks?” Steve enquired.

“No vehicle tracks. And seeing as this is a granite terrace no chance of footprints either.” Clint replied. “We are searching the area for some mud or dirt marks though."

Steve nodded, analysing the information his detectives had delivered, his hands perched on his belt. "Any indications that the crime may have occurred somewhere else?"

“Nope.” Natasha said “But we won’t know for certain until forensics finish.”

"All right. I want you two to investigate the surrounding neighbourhood. This took place presumably last night and there’s this hill over there that separates the area from Furman Street, so it is unlikely that we find any witnesses.” Steve elaborated.

“Got it Cap…” Clint said. “We’ll talk to the neighbours. See if anybody has seen anything suspicious.”

“Romanoff…” Steve started to say before Natasha cut in.

“We’ll visit the surrounding shops and businesses to check surveillance footage. I know the drill , Rogers.” to which Steve couldn’t help but smile.

“Ok. See you at the station when you’re done.” Steve dismissed them and looked at Bucky who was watching as the forensics assistants were taking photos of the crime scene and the corpse from every angle possible.

“Ready to see what Ross has to say?” Steve asked Bucky as he began to walk towards Sam Wilson, the unit Pathologist and Tony Stark, lead forensic who was gathering evidence.

“Didn’t know you were one for black humour, punk” Bucky replied suppressing a laugh.

“Wilson?” Steve greeted Sam. “What do you have?”

“Hi, Rogers. You prefer the cause or the manner?” Sam shot back.

“Is the order relevant?” Steve asked smiling at Sam’s playful ways.

“Not in this case.” Sam said.

“What about the time of death?” Bucky asked.

Sam pondered about it for a few seconds before replying “I estimate it between three and five a.m.”

“What? Two hours span? Couldn’t you be more specific?” Bucky said surprised by Wilson answer.

“Where did you get this guy, Rogers?” Tony entered the exchange. “Do you want the exact hour and minute? That’s impossible unless you were here with a stopwatch!"

"Stark.” Sam tried to shut Tony.

“All right. Call it, Wilson” Tony said with a sigh but glaring at Bucky.

“Well, based on the corpse temperature and his body mass and taking into account muscle stiffening and blood setting, I could give you from three to four thirty in the morning, but we’ll have to wait until I’ve opened him up to be more accurate.” Sam elaborated.

“The guy is as pale as a ghost” Bucky tried to say something meaningful.

“No shit, Sherlock. It’s called palor in scientific jargon.” Tony quipped visibly annoyed at Bucky’s presence.

“That’s enough!” Steve raised his voice. “Wilson, please, continue.”

“All right. So, it looks like he was killed here. There’s enough blood on the ground and no sign that he was moved after the killing took place…the murderer knocked him down first, nasty wound on the back of the head and he took a bit of a beating too. Lots of bruising to his face.” Sam explained.

“Quite a violent MO. Rage…” Steve mused.

“Yeah. If the cereal didn’t choke him to death, the blunt force trauma did it.” Sam said looking down at the corpse. “But again, I’ll know more when…”

“Hang on, what do you mean? What cereal?” Steve cut him off while sharing a surprised look with Bucky.

“I pulled this out of his throat with a pair of tweezers.” Tony said to Steve showing him an evidence bag with what looked like some sort of breakfast cereal.

“Are those Puffed Rice?” Bucky asked gaining a glare from Tony. Sam and Steve looked at him at the same time.

“That’s one hell of an odd calling card.” Steve whispered gazing past the other men into the river front. “What kind of message is cereal conveying?”

“Well, I think that…” Bucky was beginning to say but was interrupted by a raging Tony.

“Barnes, would you shut up? We’re trying to work here and your presence is disturbing enough without your silly comments.”

Steve wanted to warn Tony about his remarks but things were a bit rocky between them after what had happened at the Commendation party, so he let it be.

“Thanks, Wilson. Let me know when you’re ready to do the PM.” Steve said. He always liked to attend the Post Mortems in person, if possible. It was easier to ask questions and understand as Sam worked.

“Yeah, well, cut the cheque.” Sam replied.

Steve smiled at the pathologist, who was waiting for Judge Hill’s order to remove the body and take it to the morgue, and waved both men goodbye as he ordered Bucky to follow him with a movement of his head.

“What do you think?” Steve asked him

“Well before Stark jumped in, and by the way that guy has a stick up his ass, I was about to say I think we need a profiler” Bucky replied while both men walked their way back to the car.

Steve was quiet for a minute before saying “I know someone."

Bucky had noticed Steve hesitation before speaking and was about to ask him who he was talking about but was interrupted by Steve’s phone ringing. So he waited patiently leaning on the car door while Steve got the call. He was scrolling through his own messages when Steve came back with a serious demeanour.

"We’re stopping at Police Plaza. It was Pierce, he wants to meet me at headquarters.”

*******

Bucky headed into the coffee shop over the road whilst Steve was waved up to Pierce’s office.

“Captain Rogers…” Pierce greeted him. “I’m sure you can guess what this is about.” “Ross.” Steve nodded, taking a seat as Pierce nodded.

“Ross and I were at University together.” Pierce said, “So this…well, it’s kind of personal for me.” “I’m sorry to hear that sir.” Steve nodded.

“So, I want to be kept in the loop on this one. Normally I don’t take an interest in every body we find, I can’t but…”

“I understand.” Steve assured the Commissioner.

“So, do we have a cause of death?”

“Well…” Steve scratched at his chin “We won’t know for sure until we can do the Post Mortum, which hopefully will be later today but…well, it’s odd. It was either a blow to the head or cereal.”

“Cereal?” Pierce blinked.

“Yes, Forensics recovered a quantity of the stuff in his throat. But like I say, we won’t know for sure until Dr Wilson has done his job.” Pierce sighed. “Who uses Cereal as a murder weapon?” “Well, on that…” Steve sighed. “I think we could do with a profiler.”

“Whatever you need.” Pierce said, “I’ll pull some strings, get you someone from the FBI, anything.” “With all due respect Sir…” Steve looked at him “I’d rather bring in a profiler who’s in the force…and I know just the person. But I’d like the chance to speak to them first. They won’t feel happy about simply being forced into this if that makes sense.” “I really don’t care if they’re happy or not.” Pierce said, his jaw twitching “I want the A- team on this, Rogers, no matter what.” “Absolutely, and you have my word. If they don’t agree I’ll call, then you can pull whatever strings you need.”

“Who do you have in mind?” Pierce looked at him. They continued to talk, Pierce promising to make budget available for all the overtime he needed before he headed down in the elevator, leaning back against the wall. Working a murder was always stressful as you were under so much pressure to bring the perp to justice, but with Pierce now being personally interested, the pressure was going to double. He stepped out of the cool air conditioned lobby of HQ and called Fury to run his idea passed him. Fury gave him the green light and with that he crossed the road, finding Bucky was on the phone.

“I don’t believe in co-incidences Romanoff.” he said, nodding to Steve “It could be nothing but just keep an open mind…” Steve gestured to the phone and Bucky handed it over.

“Romanoff, its Rogers.” he said,

“Hey Cap.” “Listen, I need to head out of town with Sergeant Barnes for the evening, related to this case. We’re bringing in a profiler and I need to speak to them in person. Can you liaise with Wilson and ensure either your or Clint, or both are at the PM. Usual stuff…” “Sure.” there was a pause “Who’s the profiler, anyone we know?” There was a lilt to her voice that told Steve she knew exactly who he had in mind.

“Dismissed” he said simply, ending the call and tossing the phone back to Bucky. “What’ the coincidence?”

“Oh, erm… Ross’s real name is Paul Thaddeus Ross, he uses his middle name.” “So?” “PR…his initials, same as the cereal…puffed rice.” “That’s a bit tentative Buck” Steve said. “But good spot, we’ll bear it in mind.”

“So, you taking me on a trip?” Bucky looked at him, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yeah.

“Anywhere nice?”

“DC.” Steve looked at him “The profiler I told you about. She lives there.” “She…oh, you’re talking about Stark…the little one?” Bucky said with a slight sigh. “You want me to drive with you to DC, to convince the woman that hates your guts to come back and work for you?” “Pretty much, yeah.” Steve nodded. “Why her man? You could bring in any profiler…” “Because she knows the team.” Steve said, “I explained this to Pierce. Getting that lot to trust an outsider to the force will be hard work and I don’t have time for Natasha pulling her grin of death shit. Profilers who are actually still active officers within the Police Service are a rare commodity and, well frankly Buck, she’s one of the best in the business.” “And you let her go…” Bucky sighed, shaking his head. “I wasn’t going to stand in the way of her taking an opportunity that was, frankly, too good to refuse.” Steve sighed. “Right.” Bucky said “and that’s all there was to it?” “Yup” Steve held his gaze as best he could. “You’re a shit liar.” Bucky grumbled, standing up “I take it we get an overnighter?” Steve smiled, knowing that was Bucky’s way of agreeing to come with him. “Yeah, we’ll stay tonight. If we leave within the hour we should be there for just before 6pm.” Steve said, checking his watch. “You’re the boss…” Bucky said, standing up “We best go grab a bag.”

Less than 30 minutes later the 2 of them were making their way out of Brooklyn, the address of the SHIELD unit building programmed into the GPS.

"So how you gonna play this?” Bucky asked, lounging back in the passenger seat of Steve’s Audi Q5. It made Bucky laugh how Steve’s newest purchase, the sleek steel grey Audi held every gadget and extra he could ever need and then some. Steve lived quite a frugal lifestyle. He had nice things, his apartment was furnished well, his clothes were a mixture of high end high street brands with the odd designer item thrown in, but he never bought what he didn’t need as such. His apartment was a total of 5 rooms including the bedrooms despite the fact he could easily afford a more grandiose place. Bucky knew that it was as a product of growing up without much, his mom had never been well off, and Steve was likely stashing most of his money for a rainy day.

But when it came to cars, Steve Rogers was happy to splurge.

The Captain shifted slightly and bit his bottom lip , his thumb rapping on the top of the steering wheel. "I’m gonna show her the case file. Ask her opinion. See what she makes of it…and hopefully it’s gonna grab her interest enough to make her agree to come back for a while…“ "And if it fails?” Steve hesitated. He looked at Bucky who gave a groan, spotting the look on his face. “You’ll go over her head…man she’s gonna hate you even more then!” “Not sure that’s possible.” Steve sighed

*******

“Steve…” Captain Phil Coulson stood up, greeting him warmly “It’s been a while.” “Indeed it has.” Steve smiled at the man he had worked a case with a few years back, one which saw Thor’s brother, Loki, put away for a very long time. “Almost 3 years I believe.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun huh?” Coulson smiled and Steve reciprocated.

“Sergeant, James Barnes…Captain Phil Coulson.” Steve introduced the two men. “Please, call me Bucky.”

Phil nodded and then gestured to the elevator “Shall we?”

They followed him in, their Visitors badges pinned to their chests

“So, Fury called ahead. You want Stark back?”

“In a nutshell.” Steve nodded “I can’t go into details but…we need a profiler, and this one’s already getting some high up attention. From our Commissioner no less.” “Yeah I won’t lie, I’m not happy about this.” Coulson sighed “She’s working a case on a very big Sex Trafficking ring at the moment so losing her will be a blow…”

“She is only on secondment.” Steve reminded the man “The deal was if we need her back…” “I know” Coulson assured Steve he understood, “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Phil, I wouldn’t be doing this if I had a choice.” Steve said gently.

“That’s right, he wouldn’t. She hates him…” Bucky added. Steve shot him a glare.

Coulson frowned “Really? She’s never had anything but praise for her old team and commanding officer.” Steve felt something in his chest warm slightly.

“But of course, that could just be professional courtesy.” Coulson finished.

The warmth disappeared.

The elevator stopped and they stepped out into a large, modern, open planned office. Coulson led them through the throngs of desks, towards the right side of the room. Steve heard her before he saw her.

“I really don’t give a shit…” she was saying, her tone exasperated “This is a big chance for us to nail this guy. So you tell Sergeant Jones his men are needed…and don’t make me go to Coulson…”

As they approached her desk Steve saw her slam the phone down and rub her hands over her face and he could already smell her day perfume- Daisy By Marc Jacobs. A light, woody fragrance yet fresh and feminine at the same time. Whenever he caught the smell of it on anyone else he instantly thought of her. It was alluring, comforting…

Her head raised, her green eyes locked onto his and she shook her head. “You have got to be shitting me…” she spluttered out.

“Sergeant…” Coulson looked at her, “Really?”

“Sorry Sir, I’m just…surprised, shall we say, to see Captain Rogers. And Sergeant Barnes.” her tone was even but her eyes were flashing dangerously.

“Strictly business…” Steve held his hands up “Got a case I need your help on.”

“Out of all the profilers…you need me?”

“He says you’re the best.” Bucky jumped in. At that her face softened somewhat and she gave a sigh and turned to her boss.

“Can we use the briefing room?”

Coulson nodded “I’ll get Jackson to book it out for you.” “Thanks.” she said, moving her chair back. She stood up and Steve took her in, dressed as always for work, a button down (light pink this time) the top few buttons undone revealing a navy blue vest top coupled with black jeans and tan knee high boots. “Gentlemen…” She motioned for them to follow her and they headed into the large room at the back. She closed the door and perched on the desk at the front and looked at Steve expectantly. “So what made you drive 4 hours over here to hear me tell you to fuck off instead of merely picking up the phone?” “This.” Steve said, handing her his phone after he pulled up the photos he’d had Tony email him.

“Holy shit…” she mumbled “Ross? He’s dead?”

Steve nodded “Commissioner Pierce is taking a personal interest on this, and given the odd calling card left, I’ve got a feeling this isn’t going to be the last body that turns up.” She looked at him, the pair of them sharing an understanding. Unless it was gang related, it was unusual for a calling card to be left by a onetime killer.

“Keep going…” Steve said, as she swiped across his screen. He watched as her mouth dropped open as she squinted at the screen, before looking at Steve, then Bucky, then back to the photo.

“Is that…puffed rice?” she asked.

“You got it.” Bucky nodded “But we won’t know if that’s what killed him until Wilson’s done the PM.” “Death by Cereal…” she snorted “A Cereal Serial killer…”

Despite himself, Steve felt his mouth curl up in a smile “I was hoping it would grab your attention.”

Katie bit the inside of her cheek “I’ve never seen anything like this before.” “Why cereal?” Bucky looked at her.

She scratched her head “Ok, so this is purely supposition, but when I was training to become a profiler, there was a case study about a killer in Minnesota. He was leaving Caviar in the mouths of his victims. They were upper class bankers and dealers, he was targeting them because he blamed them for his business going bankrupt. It was kind of a taunt really…” she bit her lip “But Cereal is something that’s so widely available, it can’t be that…maybe it’s the opposite. Look how dangerous something that you can see or take for granted every day can be…”

Bucky looked at Steve, and had to smile at the way the Captain was looking at the woman opposite him, his expression soft, almost proud.

“You said she was good Steve…” he said and Steve turned to him, giving him a smile. Katie held out his phone and he took it, his fingers brushing her slightly and she pulled her hand back immediately, a pink flush rising to her cheeks as she looked down at her legs which were swinging to and fro as she sat on the desk.

“So what do you say?” Steve asked softly

“I can’t.” she said after a pause.

“Katie…” “No, Steve.” she looked at him “I left Brooklyn to do a job here, and that’s what I’m gonna do. Pull someone in from the Bureau.”

“I don’t want someone from the Bureau.” Steve said “I need someone on this we can trust, someone that knows the team, someone that can get their hands dirty…”

She sighed and looked up at him, and he didn’t miss the flash of sadness across her face “The days of me jumping to your tune are over.” she said with a shrug “Sorry, you’ve had a wasted journey but no is my final answer. Good luck.” With that she hopped off the desk and left the room without looking back.

“Well that went well.” Bucky said, “I could say I told you so but…” “Don’t” Steve practically growled, his hands on the buckle of his belt. “Looks like I’m gonna have to do this the hard way.”

“Yeah she’s gonna have your balls for earrings.” Bucky turned to him. “Now I don’t know about you but I think we should check in with Romanoff about the PM and then go get a drink.” ***** “So you’re alive then?” Katie’s voice hit Steve’s ears as she shut the office door behind her. “Just ghosting me.”

“I’m not…” he started to protest but knew it was useless, she’d hit the nail on the head. He had been avoiding her. Completely.

“Why Steve?” she asked, her eyes brimming with tears “I thought…I thought it meant something to you, that I meant something to you…” “Sweetheart…” he sighed, walking out from his desk towards her “It did, you do, I just…” “You just what?” she looked up at him. “I wake up, and you’re gone…didn’t even stay for breakfast… and then you ignore me for 3 days?”

“I shouldn’t have let it get as far as it did.” he sighed.

“So you regret it?” “No, it’s not that…” he sighed “Katie, I’m your boss…this…us…” he waved his hand between them “it can’t happen.” “It’s a bit late for that…” Katie shook her head, the tears in her eyes were now replaced with a blazing fire, one that he knew only too well and he inwardly cringed at the verbal attack he was about to receive. Only it never came. Instead her voice remained level as she raised her chin to look at him straight on “You know, you pretend to be this moral guy, when all along you’re no different to the rest of them. You got what you wanted and now you’re not interested.” “Katie, that’s not what it was.” he sighed “I care about you, everything I said that night was true but…” “I’m gonna take that job in DC.” she said, cutting him off.

Steve sighed “There’s plenty of time to think about that. Don’t do anything rash…” “Well then give me a reason to stay.” she whispered, pleading with him as she stepped forward. “Steve, we could have something so good if you just give it a chance.” Steve’s hands fell to her hips, an automatic response, before he moved back, shaking his head. And that was the moment he saw her break. The disappointment in her eyes killed him and he couldn’t look at her anymore.

“I can’t.” he said, turning away.

She didn’t speak another word. Instead she turned and left, not even slamming the door behind her.

“The next day I signed the paper work to authorise the 2 year secondment.” Steve said, his fingers sliding across the label on the bottle of beer in front of him as he sat in the bar opposite the hotel with Bucky, finishing his explanation “She left at the weekend without speaking so much as another word to me, said her goodbyes to the team when she knew I wouldn’t be there.”

“You didn’t even try and fight for her?” Bucky looked at him, shaking his head “Man, what the actual fuck?” “Can you imagine the shit storm it would cause?” Steve sighed “One of us would have had to move units, and that would have been her, not me.” “Dude, you could have worked through that!” Bucky said “She was coming to DC, it’s not that far away. You could have seen each other at weekends, or in your free time…” “Maybe.” Steve sighed. If truth be told he’d thought about that a lot after she left. Thought about calling her and seeing if they could work it out, but the longer he left it the harder it got. And she ignored all the calls and texts he had sent her anyway. “It’s too late now.” he shook his head. “Do you love her?” Bucky looked at him. Steve hesitated for a second, considering the question. It was an easy answer in the end.

“I think in a way I always have.” Steve shrugged “As a friend anyway…”

“That’s not what I asked.” Bucky said simply.

Steve looked at him and sighed “Don’t make me say it Buck, please.”

That was all the confirmation Bucky needed. He shook his head and looked at his friend “You’re an idiot.” “I know.”

“How are you gonna feel when she comes back?” “Same as I always feel when she’s around.” Steve drained his bottle “Like that scrawny assed punk from Brooklyn that was always getting his ass kicked.”

“Well, just like old times then…” Bucky said, knocking back the rest of his drink before he clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder “I got ya back pal, till the end of the line.”

@the-omni-princess @momobaby227 @geekofmanythings16 @angelofhell-666 @thewackywriter @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @asgardlover75 @jennmurawski13 @jtargaryen18 @saiyanprincessswanie @navispalace @patzammit @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @disneylovingal @madzmilllz @sgtjaamesbaarnes @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @southerngracela @goldenfightergir @kellymat @official-and-unstable-satan

#csi rogers and barnes #csi au #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers #bucky barnes #tony stark #clint barton #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #sam wilson #bruce banner

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waterkaty · 3 years

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#Drain Line Cleaning Katy #Sewer Line Repair Katy #Sewer line Stoppage #waterkaty

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pmfpartner · 4 years

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virmillion · 5 years

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Ibytm - T minus 15 seconds

Masterpost - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter - ao3

Words: 1,357

Logan furrows his brow and stares daggers at his computer, willing the trembling stacks of lines and curves to organize themselves into something intelligible. The towers of letters and numbers collapse, as does his head into his hands.

“Hey, spaceman, how much longer you gonna be here?” Roman asks, appearing behind Logan’s chair.

Logan buries his fingernails in his hair, massaging them toward the back of his head and playing with the arms of his glasses. “Ages, probably, and why ‘spaceman?’ Hardly a creative nickname for people working in a minor NASA offshoot. Couldn’t you do any better? It’s not like I’m the only one here wanting to be an astronaut.”

“Yeah, but you’re the only one here that’s so ridiculously dedicated to it. I mean, even Katie-Lee went home already, and she’s pretty much, like, head honcho or something.”

“You say that like I’m a new intern in need of exposition, rather than an employee who’s been well aware of her position for years. And it’s Miss Katie-Lee, which you’ll do well to remember.”

Roman drapes himself over Logan’s shoulder, stretching his arms over his head and blocking Logan’s view of the screen. “I don’t think I’ll be remembering that any time soon, but I suppose this is the part where I thank you for the suggestion.”

“Kindly remove yourself from my person. Unlike some people around here, I actually have important work to do.”

“Seriously? What is it, balancing more equations? Can’t you put that through google or something?”

“Google isn’t going to tell me in a clean five page report the exact moral conflicts related to launching a person into space and knowing their mission will take too long to survive a return trip, much less the mathematics required for them to build a system to get home on its own autopilot to pass along information they acquire at the destination that they can’t give directly from that long of a travel away. That’s not even taking into account the weight we need to factor in for the additional materials, or the mental toll we’ll be forcing on the traveler—we can’t exactly send someone with a terminal illness or someone on death row, since they certainly won’t be in the peak mental or physical condition necessary for the job, and you can get back to me whenever on how we break the news that we only want to give them a salary for the several limited months it’ll take to train them, before they get launched on what everyone knows to be a suicide mission. Everyone will know they’re doomed. Everyone.”

Barely even breathing, Roman slowly straightens. Well, it sounds like he’s barely breathing. Or, er, it doesn’t sound like that. All Logan can say for certain is that there’s an immense ringing in his ears that drowns out pretty much everything else. He drops his head to his desk.

“Are they actually planning a mission like that?”

“They want to be prepared for the unfortunately possible eventuality in which we might have to do that sort of thing. ‘We’ll have to make some sacrifices at one point or another,’ they say, as if I don’t already know that. As if I’m not already painfully aware of that. As if we don’t come into work every day knowing damn well that we’re all working ourselves to an early grave, because there’s virtually no way to expand our extraterrestrial horizons without losing a few lives along the way.” Logan winces at a sharp stab of pain against his temple. Another headache, no doubt.

“Even if it’s only a theoretical hypothetical, they wouldn’t have you working on it if they didn’t think it was a legitimate possibility.” Logan grunts a wordless confirmation at having heard the worry in Roman’s voice, but says nothing. Roman pulls out his phone and starts typing, only eliciting a response from Logan when whatever he’s doing flashes a bright light in Logan’s peripheral vision.

“What are you doing.” It’s not a question. It’s barely even an acknowledgement.

“Texting your husband proof that you need a vacation.”

“I don’t take vacations.”

“Duh, obviously I know that. If you took vacations, maybe you could be gone on an actual honeymoon.”

“Honeymoons are the free market’s way of draining more money from newlyweds who are too high on emotions to realize how much money they’re constantly flushing down the—”

“Yeah, I get it, communism for the win.”

“Socialism.”

“Same difference.”

“Not really.”

“Anyway, just go home and talk to Virgil. You need a vacation, and I told him that’s his new top priority.”

“As if he’d take orders from you.”

“He would if he knew his husband looked like such a hot mess-ra.” Roman flips the phone around, and Logan squints back against the brightness of the picture. Yeah, no, certainly not a pretty sight. Maybe he should start working out more. “Come to think of it, he does know you look like this, since I just sent it to him. So get a move on.”

“But I haven’t finished my—”

“And you won’t finish it if you don’t learn to take breaks between work sprints.”

“But I have a presentation on—”

“I do not care. Go home.” Roman leans forward and punches the power button on Logan’s monitor, clicking the screen into a peaceful abyss of black. “Go home. Please?”

Logan waffles between turning his screen back on (Roman only put it in sleep mode, after all) and slugging him for possibly damaging a solid couple hour’s worth of work, but a surprise third contender takes the lead for his attention. He shrugs his jacket on and rises, plucking a pen from behind his ear and dropping it in his pen cup. Roman gives a sigh of relief, and Logan wonders whether it was that obvious that he wanted to punch him.

“I hope you know how little I—”

“Yeah, yeah, everything sucks and you want to finish your work, I get it. Go home , Mr. Sanders.”

It is of this stern farewell that Logan is reminded as he tugs the front door shut behind him and steps into the apartment.

“You’re home.” Virgil sounds surprised, and Logan wonders exactly how guilty he should feel that Virgil would never expect him home in time for dinner. He also wonders whether this would be a good time to bring up how Virgril is always home, never getting an education or a real job or pursuing any passions, but Virgil never seems to be in the mood for that particular conversation. Logan is starting to suspect they’ll never realize that internal disparity.

Oh, right, he’s supposed to say something now.

“I’m home.” A very clever response, if Logan does say so himself. (He does not.)

“Why are you home so early?”

“Why do you assume I’d be late?”

“Because you’re always late.”

“I am early to every appointment and engagement I schedule.”

“Yeah, and you stay there late, which makes you late when you get to non-work things. Like when you get home late. Again.”

Logan hangs his jacket on the door and nods. “Right. Sorry.” He doesn’t really know what it is that he’s apologizing for, but he certainly isn’t about to admit as much.

“It’s fine.” Virgil’s tone makes it painfully clear that it is not, in fact, ‘fine,’ and Logan has no idea what to do about it. “Roman says you need a vacation.”

“Yes. Well, er, long day, y’know?”

“Right.”

“So I’ll just head off to bed early, then.”

“Sure. Set out some extra clothes, I guess. Maybe we can drive up north to see the leaves changing this weekend if you get out early enough. You probably won’t, but it’s worth a shot.”

Logan bites his tongue and heads into the bedroom. Why did Virgil get so mad about something so inconsequential as unpenalized punctuality? It’s not as if Logan getting home early (well, more like ‘just past on time’) should be seen as a bad thing—Virgil should’ve been happy at the surprise of being able to spend more time together. Maybe Logan should’ve just stayed at work.

#labhwrites #mine #i'll bring you the moon #ibytm

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islareeveswriting · 6 years

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INSTAS

The deep end was a scary place to be.

Molly found she didn’t mind it too much normally, when it came to things like uni work. In fact she found she quite liked it when it came to uni work. She thrived off having lots to do, a little stress seemed to make her work harder and better, and maybe it drained her a bit, made her feel a little more tired, and a little more glad when it was all over, it also meant the pay off felt far better. Molly was well rehearsed at keeping herself afloat at the deep end.

However, stood on the sidelines of the rugby pitch between Amanda and Katie, with Zak on her hip, Molly realised how she’d never truly been out of her depth enough to appreciate the deep end for what it was. Thrown in didn’t cut it. She hadn’t even seen Harry before the game started, she just turned up at the rugby club, as instructed, at the time Harry had told her, and hoped she saw Amanda, or Amanda saw her before anyone began to notice she was a little out of her comfort zone. Luckily Amanda had spotted her from the other side of the club house and beckoned her over before anyone else in the room seemed to have even realised Molly had arrived.

After discussing Molly’s sketches and ideas for what turned out to be nearly an hour, Molly had asked Harry to stay, he’d happily agreed, a bright smile creeping onto his face quietly, attempting subtlety but not quite managing to. Strangely Molly felt more nervous about spending the night with Harry in that bed than she had at her parents house. It was a good nervous though, an excited nervous, the kind she quite liked and made her feel zingy. She’d been like a giggly teenager when she’d crawled in beside Harry who was wearing only a pair of jersey shorts and his boxers under her sheets, her face clean and hair brushed, unable to to bite the coy smile back as Harry wrapped an arm over her middle, pulling her closer until there was barely any space between them at all, just enough so they could look at each other as they whispered quietly through the darkness.

It was as they laid there, fighting tiredness and their bodies desire to sleep, too caught up in their quiet conversation and the way their eyes glittered in the dark of the room, that Harry asked if he wanted to attend the annual Charity gala with him at the rugby club. Molly’s heart sped up at first. That sounded important, and not at all like taking it slow, but he’d asked, and she calmed as he went onto explain it a little more. It was quite a casual affair, Harry would have to wear a jacket of some kind as was tradition after a game, but it never lasted long, there’d be a raffle, some food, stupid games, just a general good time. But more than that, Harry wanted her there with him and that made Molly feel some sort of way that was only another signal that things weren’t going as slowly as had been insinuated in the car a few days prior.

Just over a week later, and Molly was stood on the side of a rugby pitch for the first time in her life, with two of Harry’s good friends, following suit and cheering as they did, slowly getting her head around what was going on and the basic rules. Even Zak seemed to have more of an idea what was going as he squealed for ‘daddy’ everytime Joe got the ball and pushed through the other teams players being dragged to the floor. Harry grabbed it out after every tackle and passed it out to another player, most of whom Molly didn’t know. Shane was on their side of the pitch, running up and down the side, moving into the centre, but mostly staying on the edge of the pitch, whereas Niall only stayed in the middle and kicked the ball over the post after every try. Though there’d only been two of those, none scored by anyone Molly knew, but she cheered with the others, and Zak who clapped along happily.

Molly was still trying to work out how the scrum worked when the whistle cried loudly over all other sounds, even that of her whirring mind. She twisted her head to the noise, a gang of men from both teams engaged in what looked like quite an angry altercation. Harry was in the centre, squared up to a man much larger than him in every possible way, their foreheads practically touching as if they were a pair of fighting bulls. Molly wasn’t entirely sure why she was so surprised, but she did gasp a little as Shane pulled Harry roughly away and marched him away as the other team chuckled to themselves. Molly could tell Shane was having stern words with Harry, but she suspected it was as more than just as team captain.

“Typical Harry,” Katie chuckled from beside Molly, shaking her head a little as she did so. “He’s gonna end up in trouble before long,” She continued. Molly listened but didn’t say anything, didn’t even ask the questions on the tip of her tongue, simply because she felt like she probably knew the answer. It wasn’t exactly a secret Harry had a tendency to let anger get the better of him if the situation was right, and his buttons were pushed enough. Molly imagined that on the rugby pitch, with testosterone coursing through him, hoping to win, that the buttons were a little easier to find.

“Ah, he’s no worse than any of the others really,” Amanda shrugged off, eyes glued to the pitch. Molly glanced to Amanda out of the side of her eye, and she felt Katie twist her head, but Amanda never turned to look at either of them, firm in her statement, and not about to back down under the cold glare Molly could feel from the other side of her. Before anymore could be said on the matter, Amanda was screaming again, cheering Harry’s name loudly. Molly flicked her eyes to the pitch, to see Harry flying down the side line, darting around a couple of the opposing team and diving over the try line, slamming the ball to the floor before hopping to his feet and jumping to the air just as Niall crashed into him to celebrate.

“Yay Uncle Harry,” Zak cried and Molly chuckled, cheering with him as she bounced Zak on her hip.

The rest of the game was largely undramatic. No more fights, but a couple more points for both sides. When the final whistle sounded, after Niall had booted the ball out of play, the homeside were three points ahead. Molly smiled on as she watched them celebrate, hugging and laughing, shaking hands politely with the other team members. Harry caught Molly’s eye as he pulled out of a hug with a member of his own team that Molly didn’t know and winked before strolling over to her. It had been a wet week, and as a consequence Harry was coated in mud. It was stuck in his hair, slathered down one side of his face and embedded into his knees.

“You need a shower,” Molly chuckled once Harry was close enough to hear. The offence ran over his face quickly, bottom lip pouting and eyebrows dipping.

“Your man has just won, he scored a try, and you’re telling me I need a shower?” Harry pouted, “You’re meant to be going weak at the knees.” Molly laughed and shook her head as Harry leant over the rope that kept the spectators from the pitch to give her a kiss.

“Ewww,” Zak wailed, pushing away from Molly’s chest, attempting to get as far from the display of affection as possible.

“Oh Zakky, what’s up, you jealous?” Harry asked, pouting his lips dramatically and leering closer to the toddler who only backed further away as he did so. “So what did you think?” Harry asked, turning attention to Molly again, Zak refusing to entertain Harry’s jokes.

“Was good, enjoyed it,” Molly smiled nodding.

“You’d come again?” Harry asked hopefully, eyes widening and brightening a little.

“Yeah, if you wanted me to,” Molly told him, nodding still.

“I’d like you to want to,” Harry told her quietly, leaning closer still, as close as he could without falling over the rope completely.

“Well, beggars can’t be choosers Styles,” Molly jested playfully, a little smirk pulling at one corner of her mouth. Again Harry’s bottom lip pouted a little and the space between his eyebrows creased. “So you are gonna shower?”

“Definitely,” Harry laughed, “Got a suit to put on,” Harry reminded her. It wasn’t a full suit, but Molly had helped him choose a jacket out of his vast collection of suits to wear with his black jeans after the game. Molly had been a little surprised at just how extensive, and well curated his suit collection was, but one in particular stood out. It was a mixture of earth tones arranged in an eye catching geometric pattern that send Molly’s mind into a spin. It had to be that one. “Go get yourself a drink, I won’t be long,” Harry promised.

“Do you want anything?” Molly offered beginning to back away from the rope.

“It’s ok, there’ll be beer in the changing room, I’ll get one with you once I’m dressed,” Harry told her, and Molly nodded before turning to find Amanda and Katie, strolling towards the clubhouse with the pram that Zak had gotten out of within five minutes of the game starting and not looked at again.

Once inside, and back with Katie and Amanda, Molly put Zak down and offered the other two girls a drink. They both accepted, Amanda asking for a bottled beer and Katie for a glass of wine. Molly knew which she’d choose, deciding the first time socialising with all Harry’s rugby friends was not an evening to drink wine. The bar was heaving but Molly found a little space to squeeze into, keeping herself to herself nad waiting for one of the three bar staff to get to her. She knew what it was like to work a bar that busy, she wasn’t about to get impatient.

“You being served?” Molly looked to the voice, a rotund elderly man looking at her and pointing.

“No, erm,” Molly hesitated, checking the stock of beer in the fridge behind the man, “Two coronas and a large glass of Pinot please?” Molly asked, falling back to the floor from her tiptoes.

“Not seen you around here before, new girlfriend is it?” The man asked as he grabbed the two bottles and popped the tops from them. There was a crease between his eyebrows and it was very clear to Molly that he was used to knowing ever person that came in and out of the doors of that place.

“Erm, well,” Molly hesitated because girlfriend wasn’t exactly the right word, in fact it was far from the right word. “I’m here with Harry -Styles,” Molly added quickly, just in case though the slight smirk told Molly she needn’t have worried.

“Ah, young Harold, I see,” The man smiled, nodding as he unwound the top from a bottle of wine. “About time he found himself a girlfriend.”

“Oh, no, we’re not, I’m not..” Molly flustered, it was hard to explain and she could feel her cheeks getting pink.

“Not what? He’s brought you here, so you must be something,” The man told her, and Molly swallowed on nothing, not entirely sure what she was meant to say, mainly because she didn’t really know what her and Harry were.

It hadn’t bothered her until then, hadn’t concerned her even an iota until she was trying to find the words to explain their situation. They’d moved on from just friends but hadn’t settled on something else yet. That suited her, them, perfectly, they knew the feelings it didn’t need a name. But it was hard to explain it to anyone else, particularly a nearly elderly man Molly didn’t know. “Seeing each other is it?” He asked, and Molly nodded, supposing that was it. “Well he must like ya, no lad would bring a girl in here unless he was serious,” The man, whose name Molly nearly asked for, but didn’t, informed her, and there wasn’t a hint of a joke in his voice. Molly just smiled, because she couldn’t help the little bit inside her that quite liked the idea of that. “Bill by the way,” The man told Molly before asking for her money, Molly smiled grateful he seemed to have read her mind.

Molly handed money over to Bill and took the drinks over the table that Katie and Amanda had occupied. She handed them out and took the seat next to Katie, it wasn’t purposeful, but once she was in it, Molly hoped it might make Katie warm a little more to her. It wasn’t quite as icy as it had been in the cafe, perhaps Katie was happier now things were becoming a little more serious, but still there was the odd look that set Molly on edge and made her feel a little uncomfortable.

“So things are going well with Harry?” Amanda asked, her lips popping around the edge of the bottle when she took a large sip.

“Yeah,” Molly said with a nod and a smile. “Taking it slow, seeing how things go, but so far, so good,” Molly explained, lifting her own bottle to her lips and taking a sip.

“That’s a good idea, don’t want to rush into things, make sure you really know each other first,” Katie smiled, and Molly appreciated what sounded like a supportive sentiment.

“Yeah, exactly,” Molly nodded, and Katie offered a small smile, something a little sympathetic about it before she took a mouthful of her wine. The conversation moved on from there naturally, the three of them chatting just generally about everything and anything until men started filtering out into the bar area from the changing rooms, lugging kit bags and dressed in casual suits, mostly smart blazer jackets and trousers of some kind. Shane appeared first, a pair of dark trousers on and a blazer that blended well with them.

“Evening ladies,” Shane grinned, that bright, Hollywood smile that would have made Molly weak at the knees if she wasn’t waiting for one she thought was better. He bent and kissed them all on the cheek sweetly. “That jacket of Harry’s is wild,” Shane chuckled looking at Molly as he attempted to clasp his watch together.

“It’s good isn’t it?” Molly grinned, to which Shane nodded, still concentrating on his watch. “Do you want a hand?” Molly offered, sitting up a little and reaching her hands to his wrist.

“Oh thanks Mol,” Shane breathed lowering his wrist so she could get her hands to him. “Hand got trodden on and fingers aren’t quite working yet,” he chuckled lowly as Molly clipped the clasp together and adjusted his jacket sleeve a little so it was sitting how it was designed to. “Getting us all dressed is it?”

“Well if you’re gonna wear a jacket, may as well wear it properly,” Molly winked earning a laugh from those in ear shot. Shane offered a drink which they all declined thanks to their freshly bought round, and disappeared over to the bar. “I was terrified of him when I first met him,” Molly admitted quietly, causing Amanda to laugh.

“Everyone is,” Katie told her with a grin. “He’s a puppy dog though when you get to know him,” She went on, glancing over her shoulder at Shane. “Wildly protective of Harry though,” Katie frowned, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Amanda straighten.

“Why?” Molly asked, eyes narrowing and flicking between the two women. No one said anything for a good ten seconds, and Molly didn’t miss the look between Amanda and Katie, jaws tense and Amanda’s nostrils flinching a little.

“Guess he just feels like his big brother? After the stuff with his dad and things,” Amanda explained, and Molly could get that. It explained the look as well, perhaps they weren’t sure how much Molly knew, but the way she accepted the explanation obviously told them that she knew just enough for it to make sense.

Slowly the rest of the players trickled out of the changing rooms, Harry was one of the last. Molly caught him out of the corner of her eye before he saw her, and took the opportunity to check him out. Her eyes lifted up his body, from the black leather boots he had on, over the skinny jeans, that were fairly new and blacker than the ones he normally wore. There was a leather belt holding them up that looked worn and well used, undone and tightened again enough to leave permanent creases in the leather. The black shirt he’d opted for was tucked into the jeans, buttoned up to his throat, the collar perfectly ironed and firm around his neck.

But the jacket stole the show. Molly was sure about it when she saw it in his wardrobe, but on his body it was even better. It was like it was made for him. It wrapped his arms snugly, but not too tight that it looked uncomfortable, it cleared his shoulders nicely and only emphasised just how broad he was. The jacket was unbuttoned and Molly watched as he reached into the pocket of it, pulling out his rings and beginning to slide them onto his fingers as he walked. Molly watched for a second before finding his face, only to discover she’d been well and truly caught checking him out. Harry just offered a smirk and a wink before beginning to greet the group, leaving Molly blushing and sipping her beer to try and cool her cheeks.

“Afternoon all.” Harry’s voice was rougher than normal as he threw his bag to the floor and kicked it under the table beside Molly before bending at the hip to capture her lips in a quick kiss. If anyone really took any notice of it they didn’t show it, but it only intensified the blush that was lingering under Molly’s cheeks. “Want another drink love?” Harry asked, delving into the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve his wallet.

“Sure, I’ll give you a hand,” Molly told him, getting to her feet and finishing the last of her beer quickly.

“Easy love, we don’t want a repeat of your birthday,” Harry jested with a wink.

“No, you just don’t want me kissing Niall again, might realise what I’m missing,” Molly rose quickly, leaving Harry a little gobsmacked as the rest of the table chuckled lowly. “Drinks then,” Harry just nodded quietly, offering the others a drink before leading the way to the bar.

It was quieter than when Molly had ventured up there earlier, only a few people stood around it, and less than that actually waiting to be served. Harry walked straight up and leaned against the old wooden top, stained and marked from years of use. He hardly even acknowledged that Molly moved in to stand next to him, flicking his eyes to her, but never looking properly. Molly could feel it, the corner of a wedge between them and she rolled her eyes at it, smirking to herself.

“Really?” She asked, unable to not be amused. “You really ignoring me now?”

“Well why did you have to say that?” Harry returned quickly and a little viciously. His eyes were dark and his voice was a low rumble, disguised from any eavesdroppers by the music that was playing. Molly just shook her head and turned to catch the attention of Bill, or one of the other two bar staff, though all of them were serving other people. “Was out of order,” Harry added.

“But it’s ok for you to try and make me look a dick?” Molly retaliated quickly twisting her neck back to Harry. She wondered if it was obvious they were having a disagreement, she could bet it was. Harry’s body was stiff, his jaw bitten tight and her eyes kept narrowing in his direction.

“That’s different,” Harry mumbled.

“Really? How?”

“Because I’m not threatening to kiss someone else,” Harry pointed out. There wasn’t a doubt that if the room hadn’t been packed he’d have raised his voice, but instead he spoke through a clenched jaw, his teeth bitten together, his tongue hitting the back of them as pushed his words out of his throat.

“If you honestly think I’d do that you don’t know me very well,” Molly spurred, turning away from Harry again, admittedly a little hurt.

“Well, you did it to Ryan,” Harry reminded her, as if she needed reminding. No matter what Ryan had done, before or after they’d broken up, it didn’t take away from the fact she’d kissed someone else when they were together. No matter what happened from there, she doubted she’d be able to forgive herself. It was something she swore she’d never do, and no matter how many times Lauren told it was just a kiss, it was nothing, and no matter how much she knew how little it meant, it didn’t feel any better.

“Don’t use that against me Harry,” Molly murmured, sucking her cheeks in.

“Well don’t use it against me then,” Harry returned.

“Against you? Exactly how was I using it against you, you were the one who-”

“You have absolutely no idea how soul destroying it was to see you kissing my best mate do you?” Harry cut in quickly. Molly froze and closed her hanging jaw slowly pinching her lips together, if she’d been expecting him to say anything, it hadn’t been that. Harry sucked his teeth and shook his head. “Thought so.” Molly wasn’t sure what to say, whether an apology was more fitting, or just silent contemplation of what he’d said. It sunk in quickly, and it ached as it did it. Molly had her lips pinched together and she stared at the bar, picking at a blob of candle wax that had obviously dripped onto the wood at some point. “Look,” Harry started with a breath, “I’m not trying to make you feel bad, but I hate when you joke about that because it really got to me when it happened, and does a bit now too.”

“Why?” Molly asked quietly.

“Cause I really fucking liked you and you were kissing my best mate, why’d you think?” Harry told her honestly, Molly just shrugged, swallowing on nothing. It felt bad enough she’d done it anyway, now it felt worse. “I hate that you kissed him before you even thought about kissing me.”

“That’s not true,” Molly pointed out quickly, and it took Harry back. “I’d thought about kissing you, long before I kissed Niall.” Molly explained before Harry could ask what she was talking about. There was a smug smirk that crawled onto Harry’s face seemingly pleased with himself. “Don’t look so smug,” Molly tutted shaking her head.

“Well that makes it a little bit better,” Harry pondered, letting his tongue hang from one of his canine teeth.

“Jealousy isn’t a good look Harry, even on you,” Molly told him, finally catching the eye of the only woman working behind the bar.

“Everything’s a good look on me love,” Harry jested, turning as the woman got closer. “Alright Jackie, can I get…” Harry began to list of their order Molly looking at him as he did so, pondering what had just happened. As Jackie set about getting their order together, Harry looked back down at Molly. “What?” He asked with a grin.

“Can’t keep up with you, we’ve gone from arguing about a comment, to you being all smug and happy with yourself in two minutes, I don’t know if I’m coming or going,” Molly told him, and Harry chuckled though she wasn’t sure she was amused.

“Well, would you rather that, or let it ruin the night and be miserable?” Harry asked, and Molly supposed that was fair enough. “Look, I get jealous, I like you, so I get jealous, I’m a narcissist, I’m an arse hole, I know, and I’m sorry but I really like you Lol, really fucking like you, and I’m trying so hard not to be a narcissitc arse hole, cause I really don’t want to fuck this up,” Harry explained, and Molly huffed a laugh. “I’m failing right now, I know.”

“Don’t change, you’re not fucking it up,” Molly told him with a creeping smile. It was so wildly different to anything Molly had ever known and thrill of it was far better than any security or safety she’d gotten used to in the past. There was no doubt Harry wasn’t going to her hurt her in anyway, but he kept her guessing with everything else, and Molly found herself falling for it. “Kiss me?” She asked sweetly.

“As if you have to ask,” Harry chuckled, leaning forward and tipping Molly’s chin with his finger and thumb and catching her poised lips with his. It was a little intimate for the setting but neither seemed to care, not immediately anyway.

“Come on Styles, leave it til you get her home,” Jackie piped up, forcing them away from one another with a blush on Molly’s part and a laugh on Harry’s. “Seventeen eighty then ta,” Jackie told Harry, who started working on getting money out of his wallet as Molly began to carry drinks over to the table.

Once both back at the table, Harry and Molly took the seats next to one another, both with quietly pleased smiles on their faces as they took sips from their drinks and Harry reached under the table to put his hand on her thigh. No one even batted an eye lid as they shuffled closer to one another, too caught up in the conversation that was circling the table. Harry’s fingers were drawing patterns near Molly’s knee delicately enough that it tickled her skin through her jeans. Before Harry’s hand on her leg or around her own hand had been simply a source of comfort, an acknowledgement they were in it together. It still held that too, it still felt comforting and reassuring, but it was more than that. They were still in it together, but also it was a declaration that they were together, and Harry wasn’t afraid to touch her, or kiss her, or show any kind of affection in front of anyone. His hand was hidden by the table, but Molly had no doubt, if the table wasn’t there, his hand would still be resting over her leg, and tracing over her jeans to send tingles through her.

It felt like the mood had changed, at least to Molly. Things felt different to how they had initially. Neither of them were quite as tentative or nervous about stepping forward for what they wanted from the other. There were moments that felt a lot more primal and intuitive than the practiced steps they’d been taking in the moments after their first kiss. The way Harry pulled Molly’s body tighter to his, trying to get as much of his skin against her as possible, ensuring she could feel every part of him. The way she asked for a kiss, and didn’t shy from letting her breath tickle over his puckered lips as she stepped back down, hoping to leave him wanting more.

There was a conversation Molly was sure they had to have, though simultaneously she wasn’t entirely sure they did have to have it. With Ryan, they’d discussed it, it was her first time and she wanted it to be clear that she wasn’t rushing. It was very obvious Molly and Harry weren’t going to be each other’s firsts when they got to that point, and that was new to Molly. It made her nervous, not being sure whether to bring it up, to ask, or to just let it happen when they both wanted it to. Of course she trusted Harry completely, that wasn’t even something she was questioning, she knew he wouldn’t judge her or laugh at her, but it didn’t take away from how nervous bringing it up made her feel.

A gentle squeeze of her thigh bought Molly out of her thoughts, and she looked to Harry offering him a smile that matched the one he was giving her. Of course he could see she was getting into her head about something, and Molly could tell by the way his eyes flicked a little narrower for a second that he was trying to work out why. Molly tried to reassure him, widening her smile and a small shake of her head. Harry just bit his cheek though, and didn’t return his attention to the group until Molly had.

“Where are the toilets?” Molly asked, reaching forward and putting her bottle on the table.

“I’ll show you, need to go anyway,” Katie smiled, getting to her feet. Molly felt her tummy tighten, she couldn’t help it, Katie was intimidating and being alone with her made her a little nervous, but Molly just nodded and got to her feet, looking back to Harry as she followed Katie towards a door at the back of the room. He just chuckled quietly, noticing the tension Molly was holding.

The two women didn’t talk as they walked to the toilet, or once they’d locked themselves in separate cubicles. Molly wondered what the protocol was. Should she wait for Katie if she was done first, would Katie wait for her? Normally Molly would wait behind for her friends, but they were a gaggle of university girls often in club toilets together, not barely acquaintances in an antiquated rugby club.

Molly was done first, and she washed her hands slowly, hoping she wouldn’t have to make the decision and Katie would appear from her cubicle as she held her hands under the dryer. Luckily it worked, and Katie smiled as she caught Molly’s eye. Now Molly knew it was protocol to wait, she couldn’t just walk out the door without Katie now Katie was at the sink washing her hands. Molly stood patiently by the door, folding her lips together trying to think of something to say.

“-So-”

“-Sorry,” Katie spoke over Molly, though not intentionally. They chuckled quietly, and Molly motioned for Katie to carry on. “Sorry if I came across like a bitch,” Katie continued, wiping her semi-dry hands on her blue jeans.

“No, don’t be silly,” Molly brushed it off, obviously not about to tell Katie how uncomfortable she’d made Molly feel at brunch a couple of weeks previous.

“You don’t have to be nice, I know I come across cold, I’m not stupid,” Katie laughed, and Molly just shrugged not entirely sure what to say. “Was a bit of a shock Harry bought someone along to be honest,” Katie went on, and it was suddenly clear they weren’t about to just walk straight back out of the toilets, and perhaps Katie had been wanting to get Molly alone for a little longer than Molly had realised. “We never really even hear about girls he’s with, or at least Amanda and I don’t, he tells the lads about his conquests, but it’s normally just sex,” Katie shrugged as Molly tried not to feel uncomfortable. She shifted her weight and cleared her throat. “Of course, I’m not saying that’s all he’s with you for, obviously it’s not,” Molly nodded, though she couldn’t help the feeling that even if that wasn’t what Katie was saying, that she was putting the idea in Molly’s head by saying the words.

“No, of course not,” Molly smiled, before sucking her cheeks in and tilting her head. “Just, well, I’m not sure what you are trying to say,” Molly chuckled sarcastically. There was no doubt Katie could feel the tension she’d built up, but it was impossible to tell if she was enjoying it.

“You seem like a really lovely girl, everyone really likes you, just Harry has a tendency to lead people on, and you should know that,” Katie told Molly, stepping forward. Molly folded her arms across her chest and stood a little taller. It was very clear what Katie was getting at and she didn’t like it. The majority of her couldn’t believe it, not after how well Harry had, for the most part, treated her. But there was the tiniest bit of her that was starting to panic that her instinct that it was all too good to be true, might have been right. “If you want my opinion-”

“I don’t, I have my own, thanks,” Molly bit in, and turned for the door and moved to pull it, though Katie stepped in and held it closed.

“Well, I hope you know exactly what it is you’re getting into then,” Katie hissed before letting the door go so Molly could wrench it open. Molly could feel her hands trembling and she scraped them through her hair before she opened the second door back to the bar area, holding it open for Katie. There was no way she was willing to let it get under her skin, but at the very least, she didn’t want Harry to see it. So she smiled and walked beside Katie back to the table.

“Actually I’m going to be modelling for Lolly’s new project,” Molly heard Harry announce as they got closer to the table and Katie re-took her seat. Molly just smiled as Harry looked to her, but she began rummaging around in the pockets of her coat, not willing to take her seat again just yet.

“Ooo, get you,” Amanda cooed, bouncing Zak on her knee, suddenly tired and back from wherever he’d been. “What’s the project?” Amanda asked, turning her attention to Molly. Molly felt the spotlight, and cleared her throat, glancing at Amanda but not holding her eyes for any length of time, getting straight back to what she was looking for.

“It’s a tailoring project,” Molly mumbled, moving to the other pocket.

“Tell them about the ideas,” Harry gushed, nuding her arm a little with his elbow as he did so. The grin was welded into his tone of voice, Molly could hear it loud and clear.

“No Harry,” Molly sighed, giving up with her pockets and grabbing her bag from under her chair to look through it. The tote was large for where she found herself, but she’d come from the library where she’d been looking for references for an essay she was nearly finished with, and it was full with all kinds of things, making the search for the pack of cigarettes, she knew she’d picked up, harder than it should have been. They were left on the side from a housemate night out two nights previous. Jimmy and her had gone halves and there were three left in the pack of ten, all of them hers. At first she told herself she didn’t need them, and she didn’t. But she knew she’d be drinking, and the way Katie’s words had left her reeling, she was glad she’d grabbed them in a last minute panic and thrown them into her bag. Though she wished she had indeed put them in her pocket the way she’d intended as she swore she felt every pair of eyes on her.

“What? Why?” Harry quizzed quickly.

“They don’t want to hear about all that, it’s boring,” Molly hissed, flicking her eyes to Harry from her bag for a second.

“I’d like to hear,” Katie piped up from where she was sat. Molly turned her glare to Katie, Rich’s arm wrapped around the back of her chair. Molly wondered if he knew what his fiance had planned on telling Molly, or even if she’d planned it all. She wondered if Katie could see how she’d made Molly feel and was trying to make up for it, or if she was just twisting the knife. Molly just shook her head. “What I would? It’s interesting,”

“It’s not, trust me,” Molly mumbled quietly.

“Who says?” Shane quizzed, from the other side of her. Molly swallowed on nothing and glanced up to Shane who’s forehead was a little creased. She didn’t say anything, but took a quick glance to Harry out the side of her eye. She saw it click and dropped her head.

“Her fucking ex,” Harry spat cruelly.

“Harry!” Molly scalded snapping her head to him.

“What it’s true? Somehow managed to convince you your ideas aren’t worth hearing about, must be fucking mad,” Harry bit, sitting up a little straighter and looking down at the floor as he did so.

“So tailoring like suits and stuff?” Katie asked clearly trying to diffuse the tension. It confused Molly and she could work Katie out even less than before. Before she’d just been cold, now she felt cruel and callous.

“Yeah, and she’s fucking amazing at it,” Harry chimed in aggressively.

“I’m talking to Molly,” Katie pointed out, pursing her lips at Harry until he sunk back before turning back to Molly. “Did it have to be menswear?” Katie asked, her voice sickly sweet again as she did so.

“No, but I prefer it personally,” Molly told her plainly, pulling her sketchbook out of her bag to give her more space to see, but holding it close to her just in case Harry got any ideas.

“Well, hopefully we get to see them, and Harry doing his David Gandy bit,” Katie smiled.

“Yeah,” Molly breathed a false laugh, finally reaching in and finding the pack of cigarettes. “I’m going for a cigarette,” Molly announced pulling a single one from the pack and the lighter that was also tucked inside before chucking her sketch book back in. “If anyone…?” She looked around the table but every single one of them shook their heads in response. “Young and stupid I guess,” Molly sighed.

“You calling us old?” Shane asked with a playful smirk.

“Exactly, but wise, so swings and roundabouts,” Molly smirked back, though it fell to nothing as she left the table and headed for the door with her coat and cigarette.

It was bitterly cold outside, and Molly quickly pulled her coat on before resting the cigarette between her lips. She flicked the lighter three times before a flame appeared from out of it. The flame was hypnotising, and she stared at it for a few moments before letting it go again and dropping her hands to her side with a sigh, staring up to the night sky and leaning heavier against the cold wall. For a little while she let the cigarette just hang lazily from her lips, but eventually she took it out and tucked it between her fingers. She didn’t want to smoke it, but if the feeling inside her that was making her eyes prickle and her mind reel with things she wanted to say continued much longer, that might change.

“You ok?” Harry spoke up, taking long but slow strides towards her, finding the pockets of his jeans and sliding his hands inside them. Molly nodded slightly, and offered a faint smile that was barely visible through the dark. “You’re not smoking,” Harry pointed out, nodding towards the unlit cigarette in her hand as he stopped in front of her, hands still in his pockets.

“Don’t actually want it,” Molly laughed, tucking her hand into her own pocket and dropping the cigarette before letting her hand hang by her side once again. It was quiet for a little while, muffled sounds from inside the only noise. Molly didn’t know what to say, and she was scared that if she worked it out she wouldn’t be able to stop and she’d end up talking herself out of something that she’d spent months talking herself into.

“What’s up?” Harry asked, giving into the silence that was anything but comfortable.

“I’m fine,” Molly breathed with another little smile. One that Harry could see straight through, though she hadn’t worked that out yet, no one else seemed to and everyone else in her life had known her a lot longer than Harry. He sighed though, heavily and loudly, bordering between quiet growl and loud sigh, making it very transparent that he could see through her.

“This has got to stop Lol,” Harry started. Molly’s eyes went wide with the sudden change in tone, looking up to him from where she’d sunk against the wall. “Whatever it is that makes you think your thoughts and feelings are worthless,” Harry continued and Molly dropped her gaze quickly beginning to nibble on her bottom lip. “Was it him?” Harry asked quietly, but Molly didn’t answer just rolled her lips together between her teeth harshly so she felt the flesh pop over them and it left a metallic taste on her tongue as she swiped it over the inside of her mouth. “I’m not gonna belittle you or your ideas or you feelings, it’s valid Lol, you’re valid, and this bullshit stops now, if you’re not fine I wanna know, if I piss you off I wanna know, pretending everything's ‘fine’ all the time isn’t gonna work.” It was right there, on the tip of her tongue, and she couldn’t bite it back and swallow it anymore, so she didn’t.

“He always used to say it was boring, what I did at uni was pointless and unimportant and I was boring when I talked about it, materialistic,” Molly told Harry, staring at the dirty pavement as she did so. It wasn’t something she told anyone, but the conversations she’d had with Ryan stuck in her mind and poisoned her enjoyment of talking about it.

“That’s absolute bullshit,” Harry bit quickly, not even stopping to really think about what Molly had said, just knowing it angered him and reacting as such.

“Maybe, but someone tells you something enough times I guess you start to believe it,” Molly shrugged and looked up at Harry, supposing there was no point trying to hide the tears in her eyes when there was a wobble in her voice as she spoke.

“Well stop, because it’s crap, it’s not boring, it’s not pointless and it’s not unimportant, and you’re certainly none of those things,” Harry implored, reaching forward and taking her face gently in his hands, ensuring she looked in his eyes as he told her the truth. “Lolly, I’m proud of you, I’m proud of what you do and can do, I wish you’d scream about it from the rooftops, you shouldn’t feel embarrassed about something you love.” His voice was quieter then, but the sincerity in his eyes didn’t follow suit.

“You’re proud of me?” Molly asked, her mind still hinged on those words alone.

“Of course,” Harry smiled with a slight chuckle as if the question was a joke. His hands dropped from her face then and he stood up a little straighter, Molly’s eyes following his.

“No one’s ever told me that,” Molly admitted almost silently.

“What?” Harry asked pointendly. Molly didn’t say anything though, just shrugged the way she so often did when she didn’t know what to say next. “No one?” Harry asked to be sure.

“No, not really, parents congratulate me and stuff, but they’ve never actually said they’re proud, and Ryan certainly never did,” Molly told him, loathing talking about him again.

“I think your parents probably are proud, they just don’t think they need to tell you,” Harry suggested, and Molly supposed the same thing. She never doubted they weren’t proud of her as such, they were always happy to hear talking about how well things at uni were going, and what she was up to, how much she enjoyed what she did. Molly guessed there were other ways to say you were proud of someone without actually saying the words.

“Probably.”

“But I will tell you every day if that’s what it takes to make you forget all that crap that arse hole ever told you that makes you feel like anything less than what you are,” Harry promised. Molly smiled happily as her lip turned downwards a little, her tears turning from something bitter to something far, far sweeter as she stared up at Harry and moved into his open arms. Harry pressed a gentle kiss into her hair as she rested her head on his chest and wrapped her arms around him. “And I’ll carry on even after that,” He told her, his words muffled by her hair. “Fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever hated someone I hardly know as much as I hate him,” Harry hissed.

“But you hate people you do know?” Molly asked looking up at him uncomfortably from where she was resting against him.

“One or two, doesn’t everyone?” Harry muttered, releasing Moly from his embrace.

“I don’t think I hate anyone really, no,” Molly mused, shaking her head as she did.

“Lucky you,” Harry laughed. Molly’s mind was ticking, from one thing right onto the next, he had said he wanted her to tell her when something wasn’t fine, but she doubted he meant so much so quickly.

“That why you were squaring up that guy on the pitch?” Molly asked quickly.

“Huh?” Harry puzzled, his eyebrows lowering unevenly.

“During the game, if Shane hadn’t pulled you away, you’d have hit that guy from the other team,” Molly told him, but Harry just shook his head as if he wasn’t engaged in conversation with someone who seemed to know him better than he knew himself, and who had seen how he could get with her own eyes.. “You would Harry, you know that and so do I, I’ve seen it enough times now,” She reminded him, and she saw it twist on his face how much he hated that.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry grumbled, moving to turn away.

“Don’t I?” Molly asked, calling him back with her question.

“No,” Harry barked, but quickly pulled himself back. Molly wasn’t scared, but she could see in his eyes how riled he was getting. “It was a game of rugby, things get heated all the time on a rugby pitch,” Harry explained quietly, his tone evening a little more.

“Katie seems to think-”

“Katie what? Katie fucking what? What’s she getting involved in this time?” Harry laughed as if he knew it was coming. Molly moved back to the wall a little more, suddenly feeling stupid for buying into her words so much with the amused look that was on Harry’s face.

“She just said you were gonna get yourself in trouble,” Molly told Harry, holding her own as best she could, despite how much better practiced Harry seemed to be at this kind of thing. Molly had never been good at arguments, she was sure being the youngest sister had taught her just to back down and admit defeat before it became a row, but something with Harry made her want to fight a little harder and she couldn’t back down from it.

“A yellow fucking card, it’s not the end of the world,” Harry told her.

“Yeah as long as it’s on the pitch, but it’s not just on the pitch is it, you’re getting pissed off with me now,” Molly pointed out, and with that Harry snapped his head at her. It wasn’t there, but he told himself he could see fear in her eyes and he stepped back so quickly it was a wonder he didn’t trip over himself. His hands were back in his pockets in seconds and he was shaking his head quickly.

“I’d never touch you, don’t even dare insinuate I would,” Harry promised, and there was an emotion in his voice that was far from anger but just as passionate.

“I never said you would,” Molly told him honestly, because she believed truly that he would never touch her with malice. “I just mean you’re getting angry, and if I was a lad your fists would be curling and you’d be thinking about hitting me,” Molly explained, and Harry knew he couldn’t argue that, because it was true. If anyone else were to rile him the way she was he’d be trying to find something to lay his fists into, but as it was, he was focused solely on Molly and making sure she understood she wasn’t like anyone else when it came to him, “Are you leading me on?” Molly asked, the silence giving way for other thoughts.

“I’m sorry, what the fuck? Where did that come from?” Harry spluttered, his eyebrows knitting together and eyes widening, pure shock registering over him. It didn’t take long to click though. “Katie again?” Harry eye rolled, and stepped forward gently, as if asking permission, as if he had to. Molly didn’t do anything to rebuke him so he stepped closer, ensuring she could see the green of his eyes as he spoke and the honesty laced into it. “Listen, people, Katie, are gonna say things about me, stuff you’re not gonna want to hear, but you have just got to trust me,” Harry told her.

“Like what? What are people gonna say?” Molly asked.

“That I’m a player, that I fuck girls over, that I’m every girls worst nightmare,” Harry listed, there were other words, worse words, worse accusations, but the ones he chose were enough to give Molly the gist of the things he’d answered to in the past.

“That it?” Molly asked, raising one eyebrow.

“Yes,” Harry promised. The other words didn’t matter. They worked to the same effect, they meant the same thing, they were just more venomous and hateful. “Well, I think so,” Harry chuckled, but Molly shook her head.

“You can’t laugh it off everytime Harry, it’s not a joke,” She warned him. Sure she agreed it was good to move on from arguments and not let them fester into something far greater than they started out being, but she wasn’t about to laugh off every little thing just to save a little awkwardness at a table of friends.

“Everyone’s done stupid shit, and when I was younger yeah I was a dick I’m not gonna lie, but it has been nearly three years since I’ve even spoken to a girl like this, let alone been with someone,” Harry told her, and it wasn’t an over exaggeration, Molly could see that, so she nodded. “This is still new and fresh, so I can’t tell you where it’s going, but I want it to go somewhere, I’m not just after a fuck, I like being with you, and I want to keep doing this,” Harry told her, stepping closer still.

“What about the sex?” Molly asked quietly, and she saw Harry swallow on nothing, his tongue slipping out over his lips to wet them a little.

“What about it?” He asked lowly.

“Well, what, I, do you…” Molly lost her words, not quite sure what to say, not quite sure how to word it.

“We’ll get there when we get there, when we’re ready, if we’re ready, no rush, no pressure,” Harry assured her, and Molly nodded, visibly relaxing. No pressure sounded perfect. No rush sounded good too. They were in for the long haul, and at last Molly found her feet on the bottom, suddenly the deep end didn’t feel quite so deep, or at least not so terrifying.

Progress? No progress? I dunno what do you think?

I hope you like it, please let me know your thoughts and theories cause I LOVE THEM! If you missed the instas for the last five chapters check them out here, you don’t know what clues your missing otherwise....

Have a great weekend, lots of love x

#Dive #Harry Styles #Harry Styles au #Harry Styles fan fic #Harry fic #1dff #harry fluff #harry angst #dun dun dunnnnnn

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