#The Not So Lonesome Knight part 15 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bonnie-barstow-of-flag · 5 years ago

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The Not So Lonesome Knight: Part 15

Parts 1 X, 2 X , 3 X , 4 X, 5 X , 6 X , 7 X, 8 X, 9 X 10 X, 11 X , 12 X, 13 X ,14 X,

The brunette stares at the door in his wake far longer than she probably should have, his shirt tucked between her fingers. This notion of putting on clothes that belonged to her annoyingly attractive co-worker felt bizarre. Was this crossing a boundary she didn’t even know existed until this very moment? Was it even crossing a line at all because Michael had freely given her the shirt to wear? It would have been different if she had taken it without his permission. Wouldn’t it?

Bonnie haphazardly allows her gaze to falter downwards examining the shirt’s entirety. She supposed wearing it for one night couldn’t harm anyone. It is warmer than she expected. Of course, it had just been removed from Kitt’s trunk but it might as well have come straight off of Knight’s back. It is this thought in particular that propels her towards the shower. The brunette luxuriates under the stream of hot water for longer than she probably should have given Michael’s impending return yet, she doesn’t care.

For someone as observant as Bonnie, it felt strange that she hadn’t discerned the sheer size of Michael’s shirt until the very moment her eyes peer into the mirror. In the glass’s silvery reflection, she can’t help but notice how dwarfed her smaller frame was when it happens to be draped in the cotton material. The blue fabric extends, reaching for the brunette’s kneecaps but never quite makes it. Rather, it falls short by at least four and a half inches, exposing a good length of her bare legs without being inappropriately indecent.

With a laugh, she considers the pair of Michael’s shorts she had discovered folded up inside of the shirt. Feeling exposed given her habit of covering up her lanky legs, Bonnie tentatively slides them on over her own undergarments. The result was hysterical even to her. The cinched elastic of the waistband was scarcely enough to hold the boxers up over the curve of her hips. So much for the extra covering! The ensemble was better off without the shorts. Besides, Michael might be fine with gifting her his shirt but would he really be comfortable with seeing her in his shorts? Michael would probably need to have them back. She isn’t entirely certain he is aware that he handed them to her in the first place. Bonnie slips them off and folds them up, leaving them to rest on the sink’s counter for their rightful owner.

Her sopping dark hair hangs down around her shoulder and she deliberates on pulling the sopping strands into one of her typical ponytails in order to avoid unsightly wet-patches. Imagining his reaction to those same unsightly patches, Bonnie eventually determines to pull her hair back rather than dying of embarrassment later.

Bonnie cringes at the thought of having to use the cheap, pre-selected deodorant sample left by the motel staff. Would it cover-up the pleasant scent of Michel that already encompassed her via his shirt? She hopes not. Bonnie figures she can’t very well share a bed with him without applying some form of antiperspirant. Please don’t smell worse than petrol, gasoline, or anti-freeze, she internally begs, giving the sample a tentative sniff. She is about to put it on when a wrapping noise against the door jolts her. Could the thieves have returned? Her mind races to life. If a sound could be applied to the rapid pace of her thoughts, it might have been likened to the sudden reeving of an engine.

Doing the first thing she can think of, she barricades herself in the bathroom. Bonnie’s heart gives a heavy, painful thump against her rib-cages before beating out a series of SOSes in her ears. Her turquoise orbs seek out a weapon but the only things available to wield in battle were towels, a shady looking toilet plunger, and soap. If she was crafty and quick enough, maybe she could fashion something out of the rod used to hold up the shower curtain. Standing on the thick fiber-glass ledge of the tub, Bonnie finds herself reaching for the rod. The brunette fumbles the second a familiar voice beckons to her. Thank heavens for quick reflexes or she would have ended up falling face flat into the hollow of the still wet tub.

“You okay in there, Bons? It’s just me!” He slips the door shut in his wake. Michael is extra careful to bolt the door. Tonight, he wasn’t going to be taking any chances.

Through gritted teeth she manages, “I’m fine.” Truth was, he could have easily given her a heart-attack. Although, the longer she considers it, the sillier she felt. She had been fully aware that Michael was going to be returning. Why her brain had automatically leapt to the worst-case scenarios, she couldn’t directly say. Maybe, it had something to do with the fears lingering in her mind regarding the previous break-in.

Scrambling downwards, she cracks the door open. “The water should be warm again if you want to take your shower. I’ll be out in a minute and the bathroom will all yours,” she communicates. Her departure from the bathroom, however, is made conditional. “Before I come out, you have to promise not to look.”

Michael places one of his large hands on his hips and flashes a smug grin in the direction of the bathroom door. “Oh?” The pad of his thumb is slowly dragged across his lip as he contemplates rejecting her demand. “Okay. I won’t look. Scout’s honor.” He makes a show of raising his hand in the boy-scout salute. He even turns his back to her and presses his eyes closed as a gesture of good faith.

Bonnie gradually emerges from the bathroom and slowly traipses across the room.

It is a real shame Michael had never really been a boy-scout and so he cast a glance over his shoulder at her. Although his full vision is clouded with his eyelashes, he can still make out her figure. Forgetting himself, he whistles. He can feel a strange glow warming the slopes of his finely chiseled face which, boasts a rare blush. A blush that is worn with pride.

The sound causes Bonnie to spin around on her heels. “You peeked! Didn’t you!” Twinges of indignation seep into the accusation. She should have expected him to pull a stunt like that. Huh?

“Maybe. Just a little.” He motions with his hand. “But can ya really blame me?” Michael cheekily prompts. He turns to face her refusing to conceal the fact that he is gawking at her any longer. Azure hues sweep upwards from her ankles, up the refined clean-shaven curves of her exposed legs, till his vision fixes upon her reddened face. Michael feels confident that his shirt has never better than it did on her far prettier frame. If he didn’t know any better, he was falling harder than ever for her. “You’re prettier than a picture.” Speaking of pictures, he’d like to take about a thousand different ones of her the way she looked in his shirt. The fabric seemed to hang with deliberate ease upon her more curved features and it fell loosely around her middle and legs. How was it he had never taken notice of her legs before now?

“What happened to Scout’s honor?” She laughingly questions. Bonnie hates how aware she is of his ogling. She can feel her entire face burning a horrible shade of crimson.

Running his hand sheepishly through his curls he returns,“must’a forgot all about it. Then again, I never made it outta cub scouts. ” His grin never wavering. “Maybe you should do a tune-up on my memory banks with those special tools of yours?” He bravely suggests.

“You’re incorrigible, Michael Knight!” She plucks the nearest pillow from the bed and swats him with it.

“Would ya want me to be any other way?” He prods. Chuckling loudly, he heads for the shower. He’ll definitely need an arctic blast tonight.

Sitting on the bed she watches his retreat to the bathroom. Was there a cryptic message in what he had said? She figures all of the day’s excitement had to be tainting her interpretation so she elects to drop it.

#The Not So Lonesome Knight fan fic #The Not So Lonesome Knight fanfic #The Not So Lonesome Knight part 15 #bonniebarstowofflag

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 5 years ago

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For Heart Of Steel would you be able to do when (Y/n) is on like her death bed and what her final though of her life, like her children, grand children, Steve as I’m guessing his already passed and then her though about how Sir James/Bucky is? Like how he lived his life and stuff? Like would he be her last though before she passed? Also could you do Buckys too? Like his last thoughts? Would they be both thinking about each other when they die? And what about after life? A lot of questions sorry

I’ve been letting this sit in my inbox for so long, hoping that inspiration might strike to write a one shot for this. But alas, I have nothing.

Listen I don’t know why you all want to be fucking sad. But just know you all fucking asked for this.

Heart of Steel – Masterlist

Y/N died in battle.

She was older, in her 40s. Joseph was a young man. Isabella was a young woman – but already married to Magni, the Prince of Asgard.

Steve, Joseph, and Y/N were returning to Midgard from a battle against barbarians. A battle the kingdom had thankfully won. But on their journey back, they were ambushed by a horde that sought its vengeance and refused to submit.

Y/N was surrounded while atop of her horse. An easy target on an open field where only chaos ensued. She was struck in the chest by an arrow and knocked off her horse.

Steve saw it from across the battlefield, unable to prevent getting separated from his wife and queen. He screamed at his knights that were closer to aid their queen, and they did.

But it was too late.

When Steve finally made it to Y/N and the battle had ended, he knew there was nothing to be done. Y/N’s skin had lost all color. Blood was trickling from her mouth. Joseph found his way to his parents soon enough and collapse to his knees at the sight of his mother in such a state.

Steve held Y/N in his arms as she died. Her last few moments were filled with her telling both Steve and Joseph how much she loved them.

The knights and soldiers of Midgard watched as their King and Prince cried with their Queen dead before them.

Steve was a shell of a man. He tried to remain strong for Joseph and his kingdom. But his health quickly declined.

Steve passed barely a year later.

Midgard’s historians and bookkeepers document that the king’s death was from a broken heart.

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Kingdoms far and wide heard about the death of Queen Y/N of Midgard.

Bucky was at the market in a village of Hala when he heard people speak of the tragedy. He struggled to believe it could possibly be true.

That night, he got drunk at the nearest tavern and picked a fight with whoever was willing. Some say he had death wish, others think he just didn’t know how else to deal with his grief.

But death did him no favor that night.

Bruised and beaten from the fight, he shed tears for his lost princess under the moonlight. A part of him still believed that if he had remained at her side, she would still be alive.

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Bucky, too old to continue living a nomad life, settled down in a cottage he built himself on the outskirts of Asgard. It was far enough away and he was old enough not to be known or cared about.

He kept to himself, lived a lonesome but content life. He grew to be an old man.

The closest thing he had to neighbors was a large family that owned a farm miles away. One night one of the kids, a young boy, came came running to his cottage shaking with tears in his eyes. Their family was being attacked by raiders.

It seemed Bucky could not keep to himself any longer. It had been long since he’d fought, trying to live in peace the past years. But he could not turn the boy away. The father/husband had been murdered before he arrived.

Bucky was outnumbered 15 men to one.

He died trying to save the family. Stabbed in the back and with three arrows to the chest. He was able to kill enough men and fend them off long enough for the women and children to escape to safety.

This was what he’d always wanted: to die in battle. He did not want to slowly succumb to death with old age.

In Bucky’s final moments, everything went quiet. He could not hear the men that surrounded him. He could not feel the warmth of the fire that had overtaken the family’s home. Nor did he feel any pain.

In the distance, half hidden by smoke and the blurriness that fire caused, Bucky swore he saw her walking. Just when he thought she’d turn and he would see her face, she would vanish.

The last thing Bucky heard was her whispering his name and the last thing he felt was her fingers running through his hair and her lips placing a kiss on his forehead.

He knew she would be the one welcoming him to the afterlife.

#heart of steel #heart of steel asks #heart of steel questions #heart of steel headcanons #knight!bucky #knight!bucky x reader #king steven of midgard #queen Y/N of midgard #king!steve rogers x queen!reader

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pearlposts · 4 years ago

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The Best of Soft Rock: More Than A Feeling

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

Lowdown Boz Scaggs 5:18

Whenever I Call You “Friend” Kenny Loggins 3:18

Piano Man Billy Joel 5:40

Longer Dan Fogelberg 3:18

Miracles Jefferson Starship 3:33

Lost in Love Air Supply 3:55

More Than I Can Say Leo Sayer 3:39

Rosanna Toto 4:03

More Than a Feeling Boston 3:26

Take It on the Run REO Speedwagon 3:37

Make Me Lose Control Eric Carmen 4:48

Total Eclipse of the Heart Bonnie Tyler 5:35

Living Inside Myself Gino Vannelli 4:25

The Flame Cheap Trick 4:50

Sara Starship 4:23

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

Livin’ Thing Electric Light Orchestra 3:34

This Is It Kenny Loggins 3:59

Africa Toto 4:59

Eye In The Sky Alan Parsons Project 4:35

Look What You’ve Done to Me Boz Scaggs 5:18

You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling Daryl Hall & John Oates 4:36

All Out Of Love Air Supply 4:03

Can’t Fight This Feeling REO Speedwagon 4:55

The Search Is Over Survivor 4:14

All by Myself Eric Carmen 7:11

Without You Harry Nilsson 3:21

Year of the Cat Al Stewart 6:38

Dust in the Wind Kansas 3:27

Vincent Don McLean 4:01

Please Come to Boston David Loggins 4:09

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

Baby I’m-a Want You Bread 2:32

A Horse with No Name America 4:09

Diamond Girl Seals & Crofts 4:04

I Saw the Light Todd Rundgren 3:01

Blinded by the Light Manfred Mann's Earth Band 3:51

It Might Be You Stephen Bishop 4:14

She’s Gone/Sara Smile/Rich Girl Hall & Oates 3:29

Minute By Minute The Doobie Brothers 3:28

Sentimental Lady Bob Welch 3:46

How Much I Feel Ambrosia 4:44

Everybody’s Got To Learn Sometime The Korgis 4:12

If You Leave Me Now Chicago 3:57

Sailing Christopher Cross 4:17

Waiting For A Girl Like You Foreigner 4:52

Against All Odds Phil Collins 3:25

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

Ride Like the Wind Christopher Cross 4:32

Saturday in the Park Chicago 3:57

Sister Golden Hair America 3:20

You’re So Vain Carly Simon 4:18

If Bread 2:35

Ooh Baby Baby Linda Ronstadt 2:42

Him Rupert Holmes 3:40

You Are the Woman Firefall 2:45

All I Need Jack Wagner 3:32

Walking In Memphis Marc Cohn 4:19

Making Love Out Of Nothing At All Air Supply 5:01

I Want to Know What Love Is Foreigner 5:00

The Living Years Mike + the Mechanics 5:33

Drive The Cars 3:57

One More Night Phil Collins 4:48

I’ll Be There The Escape Club 4:57

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

Summer Breeze Seals & Crofts 3:26

Key Largo Bertie Higgins 3:19

Make It with You Bread 3:12

Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is? Chicago 3:22

Dream Weaver Gary Wright 4:18

Hello It’s Me Todd Rundgren 3:52

Sara Smile Daryl Hall and John Oates 3:12

Chuck E.’s In Love Rickie Lee Jones 3:28

Black Water The Doobie Brothers 4:16

Still the One Orleans 3:56

Hurt So Bad Linda Ronstadt 3:18

Cool Change Little River Band 4:08

Biggest Part Of Me Ambrosia 5:27

Never Be the Same Christopher Cross 4:41

You Can Do Magic America 3:57

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

The Guitar Man Bread 3:45

Tin Man America 3:27

Wildfire Michael Martin Murphey 4:50

25 or 6 to 4 Chicago 4:52

Lotta Love Nicolette Larson 2:43

What a Fool Believes The Doobie Brothers 2:27

Steal Away Robbie Dupree 3:31

You’re the Only Woman Ambrosia 4:22

Sexy Eyes Dr. Hook 3:00

Kiss You All Over Exile 3:30

Even the Nights Are Better Air Supply 3:59

Arthur’s Theme Christopher Cross 3:55

Dance with Me Orleans 3:21

Beautiful in My Eyes Joshua Kadison 4:10

Black Velvet Alannah Myles 4:48

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

California Dreamin’ The Mamas & The Papas 2:54

Kokomo The Beach Boys 3:36

Ventura Highway America 3:32

Listen to the Music The Doobie Brothers 3:27

I Can See Clearly Now Johnny Nash 2:43

It Never Rains in Southern California Albert Hammond 3:38

Thank You For Being A Friend Andrew Gold 4:45

Everything I Own Bread 3:07

When Will I Be Loved Linda Ronstadt 2:10

I Keep Forgettin’ Michael McDonald 3:41

Baby Come Back Player 2:16

Circle in the Sand Belinda Carlisle 4:27

Hold On Wilson Phillips 3:41

I’ll Be Over You Toto 3:50

Just the Way It Is, Baby The Rembrandts 4:09

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

We Don’t Talk Anymore Cliff Richard 4:13

Baker Street Gerry Rafferty 2:13

When Your in Love with a Beautiful Woman Dr. Hook 2:56

Fool (If You Think It’s Over) Chris Rea 3:33

You’re No Good Linda Ronstadt 3:46

Reminiscing Little River Band 3:17

The Air That I Breathe The Hollies 4:12

Sad Eyes Robert John 1:55

I Go Crazy Paul Davis 5:23

Hearts Marty Balin 4:19

These Dreams Heart 4:17

Jessie Joshua Kadison 4:22

Release Me Wilson Phillips 3:54

The Doctor The Doobie Brothers 3:45

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

Maggie May Rod Stewart 5:15

Higher and Higher Rita Coolidge 4:01

Whatcha Gonna Do? Pablo Cruise 4:15

I’m in You Peter Frampton 4:11

Drift Away Dobie Gray 3:56

More Love Kim Carnes 3:37

Babe Styx 4:01

Into The Night Benny Mardones 4:31

It’s a Heartache Bonnie Tyler 3:45

While You See a Chance Steve Winwood 4:06

Show Me the Way Peter Frampton 2:30

Fooled Around and Fell in Love Elvin Bishop 4:37

Lonesome Loser Little River Band 3:54

I’m Not in Love 10 CC 6:07

I Just Wanna Stop Gino Vannelli 3:37

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

Daniel Elton John 3:53

I Need You America 3:07

I Can Dream About You Dan Hartman 4:11

Escape Rupert Holmes 3:54

I’d Really Love to See You Tonight England Dan & John Ford Coley 2:38

On and On Stephen Bishop 3:01

Tempted Squeeze 4:01

The Things We Do For Love 10 CC 3:31

The Best of Times Styx 4:18

Cry Godley and Creme 3:55

Your Wildest Dreams The Moody Blues 4:51

Higher Love Steve Winwood 5:46

More Than Words Extreme 5:36

I’d Do Anything for Love Meat Loaf 5:17

Do You Feel Like We Do Peter Frampton 7:20

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

So In to You Atlanta Rhythm Section 4:23

Fly, Robin, Fly Silver Connection 3:50

Sentimental Lady Bob Welch 3:46

Show And Tell Al Wilson 3:29

Wild Flower The New Birth 3:59

Delta Dawn Helen Reddy 3:09

American Pie Don McLean 8:35

Rock Me Gently Andy Kim 3:29

Go All The Way The Raspberries 3:22

Mr. Big Stuff Jean Knight 2:49

Oh Babe, What Would You Say Hurricane Smith 3:26

Hooked On A Feeling Blue Swede 2:53

Having My Baby Paul Anka 2:33

Last Song Edward Bear 3:13

The Streak Ray Stevens 3:18

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

Rhinestone Cowboy Glen Campbell 3:16

Too Late To Turn Back Now Cornelius Brothers And Sister Rose 3:20

Boogie Fever The Sylvers 3:30

Reminiscing Little River Band 3:17

I Just Want To Celebrate Rare Earth 2:54

One Bad Apple The Osmonds 2:43

Have You Never Been Mellow Olivia Newton-John 3:33

Magic Pilot 3:05

Boogie Oogie Oogie A Taste of Honey 3:38

Right Back Where We Started From Maxine Nightingale 3:15

Sad Eyes Robert John 1:55

Gonna Fly Now Bill Conti 2:48

My Sharona The Knack 4:02

You Sexy Thing Hot Chocolate 4:05

Puppy Love Donny Osmond 3:06

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

Love Train The O'Jays 2:58

Knock Three Times Dawn 2:55

Brandy Looking Glass 3:04

Little Willy Sweet 3:12

Baby Don’t Get Hooked on Me Mac Davis 3:06

Take Me Home, Country Roads John Denver 3:13

It Never Rains in Southern California Albert Hammond 3:38

Brand New Key Melanie 2:26

Come and Get Your Love Redbone 3:32

More. More, More (Part 1) Andrea True Connection 3:02

I Can See Clearly Now Johnny Nash 2:43

Everybody Plays the Fool The Main Ingredient 3:22

Indian Reservation Paul Revere & The Raiders 2:52

The Cover of “Rolling Stone” Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show 2:55

When Will I See You Again The Three Degrees 3:00

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

Rich Girl Daryl Hall and John Oates 2:23

Lady Marmalade LaBelle 3:21

Best of My Love The Emotions 3:41

Fire The Pointer Sisters 3:28

Miracles Jefferson Starship 3:33

You Make Me Feel Like Dancing Leo Sayer 2:51

Here You Come Again Dolly Parton 2:58

Disco Lady Johnnie Taylor 4:25

Saturday Night Bay City Rollers 2:56

Rock On David Essex 3:26

Wildfire Michael Martin Murphey 4:50

You Take My Breath Away Rex Smith 3:15

I Go Crazy Paul Davis 5:23

Stumblin’ In Suzi Quatro and Chris Norman 3:31

Torn Between Two Lovers Mary MacGregor 3:44

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

Bad, Bad Leroy Brown Jim Croce 3:00

Don’t Pull Your Love Hamilton, Joe Frank & Reynolds 2:41

Love Will Keep Us Together Captain and Tennille with Neil Sedaka 3:24

Another Somebody Done Somebody Wrong Song B.J. Thomas 3:22

She’s A Lady Tom Jones 2:51

How Do You Do? Mouth & MacNeal 4:07

Black and White Three Dog Night 3:51

Escape Rupert Holmes 3:54

Drift Away Dobie Gray 3:56

It’s a Love Beat The DeFranco Family 3:09

I’m in You Peter Frampton 4:11

The Candy Man Sammy Davis, Jr. 3:10

Spiders & Snakes Jim Stafford 3:05

Billy, Don’t Be A Hero Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods 3:40

The Morning After Maureen McGovern 2:20

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves Cher 2:36

Maggie May Rod Stewart 5:15

Baby Come Back Player 2:16

I Just Wanna Stop Gino Vannelli 3:37

Jackie Blue Ozark Mountain Daredevils 3:37

Higher And Higher Rita Coolidge 4:01

I’m Not in Love 10 CC 6:07

Y.M.C.A. Village People 3:45

Will It Go Round in Circles Billy Preston 3:46

I Just Want to Be Your Everything Andy Gibb 3:44

Do You Wanna Make Love Peter McCann 4:01

Signs Five Man Electrical Band 4:02

Disco Duck Rick Dees 3:14

Montego Bay Bobby Bloom 2:55

If I Can’t Have You Yvonne Elliman 3:00

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

Play That Funky Music Wild Cherry 3:16

One Toke Over the Line Brewer & Shipley 3:21

Afternoon Delight Starland Vocal Band 3:14

Life is a Rock Reunion 3:31

I Can Help Billy Swan 2:57

My Maria B.W. Stevenson 2:31

Magnet and Steel Walter Egan 3:25

Beach Baby First Class 2:42

The Rapper The Jaggerz 2:45

Brother Louie Stories 3:57

Precious and Few Climax 2:46

O-o-h Child The 5 Stairsteps 3:15

Playground in My Mind Clint Holmes 2:57

Put Your Hand In The Hand Ocean 2:53

Please Come to Boston David Loggins 4:09

SONG TITLE ARTIST TIME

Turn The Beat Around Vicki Sue Robinson 3:24

Ring My Bell Anita Ward 3:31

Sometimes When We Touch Dan Hill 2:22

Rose Garden Lynn Anderson 2:49

In The Summertime Mungo Jerry 3:37

Seasons in the Sun Terry Jacks 3:30

The Night Chicago Died Paper Lace 3:32

Rock The Boat Hues Corporation 3:09

Don’t Give Up on Us David Soul 3:39

Kung Fu Fighting Carl Douglas 3:17

Love Grows Edison Lighthouse 2:51

Sweet Mary Wadsworth Mansion 2:42

The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia Vicki Lawrence 3:36

TSOP MFSB featuring the Three Degrees 3:35

Feelings Morris Albert 3:45

#ignore me #manic mania activities #gonna make a playlist later

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bittysvalentines · 5 years ago

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Cafes and Triumvirates

From: @hargreeves-and-wine

To: @omgtranspoindexter

Summary: Love is a mosaic, if one takes the time to think about it. The way we feel for those who love is comprised of all the moments we share with them. In sickness and in health, for better and for worse. Over the course of a day, Chowder, Dex, and Nursey find themselves dwelling on moments that make them fall in love with their partners all over again.

Rating: T

Content warning: One mention of offscreen (but legal) drinking.

Happy Valentine's Day! I hope you enjoy this fic!

Chowder - The Morning

Wiping down the windows was a chore normally despised by anyone who had ever worked in a restaurant. There were always the streaks that could never be properly cleaned away, no matter the angle at which you wiped them. Reaching up to get the top edges would often result in the cleaning liquid running down your arm. Hell, it only took a bug that was flying haphazardly for your hard work to be ruined.

Yet Chris regarded it as the second best part of doing the opening shift; the first, of course, being the pastries and cookies that were delivered first thing in the morning from Bittle’s Kitchen down the block. From their perch 15 inches off the ground, they were able to reach and clean the windows with ease. Each swipe of the squeegee helped reveal another slice of the daily lives of the other residents of Samwell Street.

There was Lardo, putting the finishing touches on a large mural she had been commissioned to paint on the side of the Knight, O’Meara, and Wicks Law Office. Further down the way, they could see Ransom and Holster walking their troop of dogs and a cat (who, Chris had been told, was raised around dogs since birth before the men adopted her). Even from behind the glass and fairly heavy front door of the Samwell Stoop, they could hear Holster’s joyful voice bouncing off of the cobblestones of the street.

Only one sight, however, could bring a full on grin to Chris’ face at this hour of the morning. Just in front of the pane of glass, Dex was busy checking off the week’s supplies that had been brought in the delivery truck while Nursey was bringing down a large box of milkettes and creamers with one arm. The moment that Dex turned around to confirm something with the driver, Nursey snagged a butter tart from the platter the former was saving to give to said driver.

“Well, thanks again, Johnson,” Dex finished as he handed a paper back to the driver. “We actually saved you a little something for your- Nurse! What the hell?”

Nursey shrugged as they offered out the other half of the tart. “Did you want one?” They, thankfully, had the good grace to swallow before speaking.

“You are simply unbelievable, stealing a gift of all things.” Despite his chiding, Dex indeed took the offered tart and popped into his mouth before giving Johnson the rest of the platter. “Now you better take this before my idiot partner gets their hands on more of them.”

As Johnson got into his truck and pulled away, Nursey hugged Dex from behind and pecked his cheek. “You know, you’re adorable when you blush,” they murmured, only causing Dex to turn an even darker shade of red.

With a friendly tap on the window pane with his squeegee, Chris got the attention of both of his partners. They honestly didn’t mean to be a voyeur; in fact, they weren’t sure if they could be one since they were dating the two of them. Still, Chris figured they would appreciate being informed that they weren’t alone.

“Oh shit, Chowder!” Dex abruptly pulled away from Nursey and hurried inside the cafe with one hand behind his back. It was only when they climbed down from the stepstool that Chris saw what Dex was hiding. “You didn’t think we’d actually forget to save one for you, did you?”

The moment they’d taken a bite out of the butter tart, Chris was crushed in a tight hug between the two of them. Nursey’s aftershave and Dex’s cologne enveloped them in a feeling that could only be described as home.

Dex - The Afternoon

“What do you mean you’re out of maple pecan pie?”

Will, who was using his break in the back room to be out of his binder for a while, could just hear the complaint. As he peeked outside to see what was going on, he could see a guy who stood at a height of about 6’4 at the counter, staring down Chowder. Just behind them, Derek was handing a girl her cup while watching the situation at the same time.

“Look, sir.” Chowder may have been slightly dwarfed by this man, but one didn’t become a goalie by showing their fear. “We only get so many pies delivered at the start of the day, so if we run out, we run out. Of course, I could go over to Bitty’s Kitchen, use my own money to get another pie, and let my partner here take over this massive lineup all by himself. Would that satisfy you, sir?” The conversations in the cafe had given way to silence as the patrons turned to watch.

The tall customer only folded his arms and doubled down. “I paid for a slice of pie, and I demand that I get what I paid for,” he huffed, doing his best to give Chowder something that resembled the evil eye.

Nursey feigned wiping his hands on his aprons, but Will could see that he was actually cracking his knuckles. “You haven’t paid for anything yet. My partner here has tried being civil, but it’s clear you’re not listening.” Even though they weren’t quite at the customer’s height, Nursey had a way of commanding attention when it was needed.

“Is it so wrong to expect a slice of pie with my coffee?”

“If you want pie, then go and get it yourself.”

“I demand to speak to the manager!”

“You already are, asshole.”

Though it was a crisp fall afternoon outside, there was clearly a gathering storm within these four walls. Will had fully emerged from the break room and was about to approach the counter when Chowder silently motioned for him to stay back. It was almost scary to see the perpetually chill Nursey standing with such contempt behind their eyes.

The tension in the air was finally broken when the customer stalked off, muttering something about “ungrateful millennials” as he pushed the door open. Then, Nursey relaxed their stance and turned to the crowd. “I can help someone over here!”

Before too long, Will was due to get back behind the counter. As Chowder passed him on the way to their own break, the two of them stopped to briefly hold hands. A similar blush coloured both of their cheeks when their eyes met.

“You were brave.” Will murmured, longing to wrap his partner in a hug.

Chowder shook his head, though they squeezed Dex’s hand back. “You’d have done the same.”

Once he was behind the counter, Nursey gave him a look as if to say “I’m okay, I’m alright.” Still, Will decided to give their hip a little bump since anything beyond that would probably be seen as unprofessional. While they were technically their own bosses, Will insisted that the three of them treat one another as coworkers as long as they were on the clock. They just happened to be coworkers who snuck in kisses when they had the chance.

Nursey - The Night

It’s been said that the way to a person’s heart is through their stomach, but as far as Derek was concerned, the way to a person’s soul was through their taste in music. They had read a study once that said people’s moods and taste in music influence one another in a type of pseudo-dynamic equilibrium. Or something like that. Derek wasn’t a chemistry student for a reason.

Chemistry journals didn’t, however, cover what to do when there was the slight catch of you and each of your partners having wildly different tastes in music.

In order to keep outright Armageddon from erupting, the three of them had hung up a calendar in their break room with a schedule for who gets to play music when. Chowder was assigned to Mondays and Thursdays, Dex had Tuesdays and Fridays, and Derek chose Wednesdays and Saturdays. “I guess God gets to pick the music on Sundays,” they joked since none of them would be there anyways.

This particular Saturday had been more stressful than usual with the confrontation earlier. On top of that, it was a deep clean day, so Derek, Dex, and Chowder had been up to their eyeballs in checklists of things that had to be refilled, wiped down, and rearranged. By the time they had finished, it was around eleven at night, a whole three hours after the Samwell Stoop normally closed. So the trio treated themselves to a cuddle pile on the couch in the breakroom.

“Nursey,” Dex whined softly, dragging out the Y. “Can you change your playlist to something less… intense? I’m getting flashbacks to that bootcamp I did back in college.” Although it probably wasn’t intentional, he let his head slump against Chowder’s shoulder, who leaned against him in turn.

With a quiet “Chyeah,” Derek pulled themselves away from his partners to grab his phone. It was probably a bad idea to have the aux cord right behind the counter, but they and Dex usually had the impulse control to not check it. Emphasis on usually. Chowder sometimes struggled a little bit more, but it was decided that it was better to be chewed out by a patron for checking their phone than to have the whole store subjected to an unexpected voice memo of Dex drunkenly singing along to “You’ve Got a Friend In Me.”

For the record, he had scored an 82 on their friend Whiskey’s karaoke machine that night.

So after much deliberation as to slow down the mood, the lively harmonies of the Jackson Five were switched out for the light crooning of Jason Mraz. Though they would take the secret to their grave, the playlist was actually the one that Derek had used for sleeping back in his college days. It was more lonesome than they had realized to truly be on their own in the world. So these songs were the ones they fell asleep to, hoping to have pleasant dreams instead of their usual fitful nights.

Nowadays, they used it for times that they needed to destress. Music wasn’t really a good idea in the bedroom anyways since it was noisy enough with three of them in the bed. Another secret that their would never dare disclose was how their found Chowder’s chainsaw-like snoring actually quite adorable.

“This slow enough for you?” they joked as they tucked the wires back into their little storage cup (one of the mugs that could no longer be used due to the broken handle). Yet, when Derek looked up from behind the counter, they were greeted by the sight of Dex and Chowder slowly swaying to the melody in one another’s arms. Their eyes were closed as they nestled into the crooks of their necks, and Chowder’s hand fumbled around for Dex’s before their fingers were intertwined.

Poetic enlightenment often eluded Derek when they needed it most, but this moment must have been something extraordinary.

Sun and Moon

Forever in a cyclar chase

Yet neither is ever alone

For stars and clouds are one and the same

Keeping them company

In the wide open sky

While they had never gotten any complaints for their writing volume, it was the closing of Derek’s leather-bound notebook that got their partners’ attention. They broke their hand clasp and reached out towards them at the same time. “Derek,” Chowder murmured, their voice serious, yet gentle as it always was when they used their legal names.

Although they were a quarter inch taller than Dex (they do know how to use a measuring tape, thank you very much), Derek allowed himself to be enveloped in a tight hug between their two partners. “I love you… Will, Chris, both of you… I love you so much.”

Outside, the stars were indeed shining alongside the moon. Most people had either turned in for the night or had dimmed their lights and shut their curtains. Yet in the relative darkness, the Samwell Stoop was a glowing beacon, its yellow brilliance spilling out of the windows. If Derek still had their notebook out, he might have written about how metaphorical it all must have been to an outsider. But they didn’t need words right now; they had everything they could have needed right beside them.

#chowderdexnursey #bv2020 #bitty's valentines #omgcp fandom #omg check please!

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midoridragonuus · 7 years ago

Text

the righteous son

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- x -

Sweat gathered at his hairline, peppering his skin with visible anxiety. He'd never felt this exhausted, and he was still miles from the finish - if there was a finish to be had. Ellie was missing. His Ellie. The one woman who never failed to see him as pleasurable company, and never a failure. A burden. What more could he feasibly ask for, when he'd spent the last few decades running his life into the ground? He was irresponsible. A coward when it came to his family. A man who played whatever side of the fence was more beneficial. He was the embodiment of a turncoat, and yet Ellie's faith in him never wavered. At times, he was sickened in her devotion, but the unease forced him to act, and he labeled her a savior. Of course, he knew it impractical to label anyone as such. Pressures as a savior can turn even the most virtuous into a sinner, but the closest likeness he could imagine to an angel was that of Ellie Schwartz.

The elevator groaned underneath his feet as the door quickly shut behind him. There was a cold efficiency about Schwartz Industries that didn't allow for a man to second guess his decision. Either he was in or out, and the gentle exhale of the door closing was a mocking whisper telling him that fate had chosen for him. Gabriel had come to terms with this, or at least, he'd thought he had. Both he and fate had an abusive relationship with one another, often finding a resting balance skewed to one side. Today was no different, so why should it bother him so much?

Perhaps it was the unknown. The concept of the unknown wasn't frightening, and fate could hardly toss something at him that he hadn't seen dozens of times over. There were so few surprises that he considered it a strength. As a soldier, he was unmoving, unfeeling, and always happy to finish the contract. No matter who stood in his way. No matter the challenges, atrocities, or nightmarish horrors - Gabriel could do it and vanish into the shadows. Fate's cruelty was confined to him, and this was a concession he'd made peace with. But when fate's fingers entwined beyond his and caressed those around him...

SI was a new family. And although he had few qualms about playing the father, only to leave for a carton of milk in the dead of night, there was something about this particular job that kindled a burning guilt. At first, he'd ascribed it to leaving Meg by her lonesome. Even though Meg was hardly what either of them would consider a friend, she was someone he'd come to respect as a routine colleague. Wherever he'd go, she was bound to show up sooner or later. But it was because she'd always show up, a cockroach in her own right, that it wasn't Meg that really plagued him. It was something happening to the people in SI.

He used to pride himself on his fight and flight, and now it was more of a burden than he was - a huge accomplishment, really. So when fate decided to toy with those around him, it played a nasty game of tug of war, and that was the true cause of fear for a man who'd seen and done it all.

"Everything's fine, you idiot. You're worrying for nothing."

It was a simple utterance, and done for no one's benefit. There was no one to impress in the elevator but himself, and it was only hesitantly doing that job. What could he say that hadn't been said in the last several years? Could he lie and tell himself it'd be alright, even if every fiber within wailed in protest? He ached, a brutal ache that tore through him with lightning speed and ripped the energy from his veins. It was a downward spiral, and the only relief would come from finding Ellie Schwartz.

The answer was waiting for him just beyond.

Whether he could comprehend it when he got there, that was a whole different question, but one he'd be willing to posture his way through. For her. For them.

A hand shot out, ready to face the final enigma, when the floor dropped beneath him. It was only a quick jolt, but enough to know that the elevator had started to descend without any prompting. There was no push on his part, and Gabriel frowned in discomfort. He was sure he hadn't yet pressed the button for civilian floors, yet he couldn't argue when the digital display ticked down and the inertia settled around him.

Panic set in for the second time. He wasn't in control. That much was clear. Someone was playing a game, and Gabriel had no choice but to play pawn. It irked him - a man known for being a knight. Whether white or black, he was a sword. Sometimes, a dagger... but never a pawn.

30, 29, 28.

His breath hitched each time the numbers ticked down, and acid clawed at his throat. The though of being nothing more than a toy brought back seasons of discomfort under his father's rule.

27, 26, 25.

Fragments of memories jutted out like broken glass and prodded at the soft wall he used to keep them sealed away. It wasn't the time to deal with mistakes from years gone by. It was only time to deal with the one's he'd made today. The lights in the elevator flickered in disagreement.

24, 23, 22, 21.

The numbers went faster and faster, as if to deny Gabe a chance to gather himself. It was almost funny, the way fate dangled torture in his peripheral, as if to say, "choose a direction." Choose at all. Both forward and backward were wars waiting to be fought.

20, 19, 18, 17.

He chose forward.

16, 15, 14, 13.

The speed was almost nauseating as it ran through the numbers. It wasn't giving him enough time, enough bravery, or enough of anything. It wasn't enough. It wasn't-

12.

The elevator lurched to a halt - another anomaly in a long list. The neon numbers refused to tick down, letting the twelve be the only illumination on Gabriel's face. The lights had all but given up and the only sanctum left was the damnable twelve that served as nothing more than a mocking reminder that the cafeteria - where Ellie had said she'd be - was still several floors beyond.

Amber eyes drifted to the doors which still refused to open. It was his own, personal Pandora.

He stumbled forward, urging legs that refused danger to get him just one step closer. His hands pried at the opening, trying to let him into the world he'd spent so long awaiting in dread. But no matter how many times his thick fingers scraped at the metal, he was no closer to opening the door than he had been to understanding why it'd stopped in the first place.

The twelfth floor....

Resting against the door, he savored the cool metal against his forehead. It was a reprieve in what was slowly amounting to the fires of Hell. He was tired of running, thinking, sweating, even. He was simply tired, and a blanket of resignation fell over the mourning soldier.

As if his prison sensed his defeat, the doors groaned to life and opened, causing Gabriel to pull back and regain his standings. He'd have laughed in another lifetime. His despair was the key.

"Poetic," he mumbled, squinting into the horizon.

Schwartz Industries was always well-lit. It was a business, first and foremost, and no business was complete without the monotonous buzz of fluorescent lights. There were very few departments that required low lights, and a civilian floor, where families lived, wasn't one of them. Yet as he peered into the stretch of hall, the light they'd been giving off was hardly enough to see a few feet in front of him.

To the left, the windows had been sealed. Thick metal plates interlocked down the side of the building, refusing to let in even the smallest amount of sunshine. Though it was clear they were working and doing their duty, he couldn't remember when the alarm had sounded. It certainly hadn't been active when he'd torn through the stairwell, nor when he got on the elevator. Had it been activated in the mean time? Is that why the elevator stuttered to a halt before he'd reached the cafeteria? But why wouldn't the intercom click over? Why hadn't he gotten a message from the Schwartz Internal Internet Messaging System? Something else was wrong here.

He stepped out of the elevator, hearing it close behind him. His eyes kept straight, trying to adjust to the overwhelming blackness that clouded his vision. They searched for anything he could recognize - a table, a number - anything. But the only thing he could actively see was the superfluous pattern of the carpet. Reaching out a hand to feel his way around, the lights flickered with an echoed laugh.

Closing in on his position were two figures, linked arm in arm. The silhouettes were ambiguous at best, but there was one he'd recognize no matter how dark the world around him. Dry lips struggled to form the words, only able to mouth her name.

Ellie. Ellie. Ellie.

His throat struggled to push out sound - anything that'd get her to notice the sad excuse for a man, now on his knees.

"El-" he choked, grasping at his throat.

The woman at the other end of the hall stopped mid-stride, whipping around to answer the pathetic cry. "Gabe? Gabe? Oh my gods."

Dropping the other's arm, the girl rushed to the elevator doors, quickly dropping his level. Her hands grasped at Gabriel's shirt, one to brace his arm, and the other to rub a gentle assurance into his shoulder. Ellie's touch was firm and warm, and the only thing grounding Gabriel to reality - if it was real. His eyes snapped shut, refusing to acknowledge that after all his search, Ellie was right in front of him.

"Gabe?" She peered down, brushing dark strands of hair from his eyes. "Do you need me to get someone? Hello?"

He breathed slowly, not wanting to open his eyes. Opening his eyes meant that he'd have to deal with whatever was pretending to be Ellie Schwartz. If he kept his eyes closed, he could savor the touch for a moment longer - living in whatever dreamscape he could muster to mask the ugliness of reality. All he had to do was breathe in and out.

Concerned, Ellie pulled her fingers away, twisting around to call at the second figure. "James, come here a minute."

"James?" Gabriel's eyes flew open, his head snapping upwards. For a moment, he was blind. The lights had been restored, and there was nothing amiss about the world around him except for the fact he was on the floor, and Ellie, his Ellie, had called for a man named James. "Who’s... James?"

She stared at him with an incredulous look. "What do you mean, who's James?"

He grasped her hands, entwining their fingers. It looked real. She looked real. And her hands were a contrasting warmth that served to take his own. The sun poured in from the windows, casting everything in it's path a brilliant orange on it's way down. Even though her face was knit in a solid cast of confusion, a deep weight melted off his chest. Ellie was real. She was here, and close enough he could count her freckles.

Pulling her fingers from his grasp, she throws a knowing thumb over her shoulder. "That's James."

James. That's James.

She said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. The name... James... It was effortless to her lips, as if it'd been spoken a thousand times before. And if that were the case, surely Gabriel would know who the other man was. He hung off Ellie's words like they were honey. He drank them as soon as she offered them to the world; greedy for nothing else. But he'd never heard her talk about James.

That name... 'James'.... James echoed in his ears, pounding against doors carved of blood and bone, and still, familiarity seemed out of his grasp. In all his years, in both the company and at Ellie's side, he'd never seen or heard of this man. He was sure of it. Not in any of Schwartz' files, and not in any of that REDACTED nonsense. There was no one named James at the company. There were no James listed as visitors. For all he knew, there were no Jameses in the world, but here he stood - the man of the hour.

"Hey, Gabe."

Hunched over Ellie's shoulder was a boy several inches taller than Gabe himself. He was thin, lanky, and everything Gabriel was not. James' hair was cut with a natural wisp that would have taken the other man hours in front of a mirror. It was thick, but refused to fall into unnaturally colored eyes. They were violet, and they were alive.

Gabriel pulled back, refusing to meet James' intense stare.

"Gabe, you cool?" the boy asked, reaching a hand out to help the fallen man.

Ellie slapped the hand aside, and offered her own. "Lady Lightweaver - it's like you've never seen my brother before. Are you okay? You look okay. Gabe? ...Gabe?"

The color drained from his face.

Ellie Schwartz didn't have a brother.

Ellie Schwartz was an only child. An orphan. He knew that better than he knew aspects of himself.

This was wrong. Everything was wrong.

Shadows slowly crept into view, teasing the edges of his vision.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

He had to get out of here. He had to leave the twelfth floor.

Hands splayed, Gabriel shoved the other two out of the way amidst indignant cries. He could feel his balance losing it just as much as he was. His right shoulder seared in pain, causing the man to look down in confusion. It was plastered against someone's front door, caught on the frame. He frowned, struggling to remember when that had happened.

Voices called from behind, their words muddled and meaningless.

He had to go. Flee. Anywhere.

His body was on autopilot as he hurdled through the hall. There were stairs somewhere.

Viscous rivers of blood coated his sleeve. What had he torn it on? A door frame couldn't have done that sort of damage.

Stairs. Stairs. Stairs.

The footsteps behind him were getting louder.

If he could just find the fucking stairs!

They were so loud.

The beeping was so loud.

Everything was loud, and the darkness was coming.

A struggled cry silenced the hall.

He didn't know if it was his own, but he assumed as much.

His wrist pounded, strangled, choking on its own blood. He'd wondered when he'd hurt himself there when he glanced down. It was his watch, pulsing against the swollen skin. It glowed in the darkness. His only light. His only savior.

- x -

from: [email protected] to: [email protected] cc: subject: THIS IS AN AUTOMATED MESSAGE flagged: urgent, com attachment: spl01.mp4

- x -

from: [email protected] to: [email protected] subject: SS flagged: urgent

Hello Gabriel. We need to talk.

- C. Saavas.

- x -

#drabble #c:gabe #c:ellie #c:james #flight rising #the righteous son #long post

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bonnie-barstow-of-flag · 5 years ago

Text

The Not So Lonesome Knight Part 16:

Parts 1 X, 2 X , 3 X , 4 X, 5 X , 6 X , 7 X, 8 X, 9 X 10 X, 11 X , 12 X, 13 X ,14 X, 15 X

Michael’s azure hues dazzle, vibrant in their appearance, as he contemplates the idea of Bonnie being turned into a robot. The imaginings were largely inspired by Rc3′s earlier commentary. If he tried hard enough, he could picture the wires, cords, and computer chips strung expertly together to make up her perfect body. Maybe, Rc3 wasn’t that far off? What else could account for Dr. Barstow’s expansive intelligence? Knight humorously considers, lathering the motel’s conditioner through the dark coils of his hair.

Helios and the Foundation both knew that Bonnie possessed an elite mind. Unfortunately, the one particular section of Helios that had taken interest in her happened to be corrupt with criminals. That was entirely beside the point. All Michael could do, was chalk the incident up to another time where he almost lost her. Internally, he was beginning to despise the word ‘almost’. It implied an inability to fully grasp what he so desired all-the-while, maintaining that she could still leave. If he waited too long, he could blink and she’d be gone again. This thought alone causes his eyes to dull with hints of sadness.

Kitt was right to label him a coward. A coward who is constantly hiding his true feelings behind nearly impenetrable facades, Michael thinks to himself. He could blame it on the metal implant in his head, his time working in Intelligence, or even his life-times worth of trauma, and the number of losses he suffered. Heck, Michael could honestly apply just about a trillion more excuses but he doesn’t.

He lets a torrent of cold water followed by warm, rinse over all of his features, washing away his dour line of thinking. One day, he should free himself of the tethers of fear and dread that conspired to keep him and Bonnie apart forever.

Would he ever get a better opportunity to tell her than tonight? Michael ponders as he towels himself off and re-dresses. He can’t. He won’t! There has to be a better time, a better place than a motel, and a more convenient opportunity. He didn’t even have roses to assist his effort to woo her. Casting a wistful glance in the mirror, he reminds himself just how short he would always fall on the scale of measuring up to what Bonnie deserves.

In his departure of the bathroom, he finds himself greeted by the hums of the television which, was now turned on and casting it’s ethereal glow throughout the darkened room. Michael finds himself staring at Bonnie again. He can’t help it. She looked spectacular bathed in the luminosity radiating from the tv. Every one of her features seemed infinitely softened to the point of angelic glory under it’s careless caress. Even the look of determination she sported upon her countenance melted. From his observations, Michael gathers that she was multi-tasking, the way she always did when there were too many things burdening her mind.

Michael slings his towel around his neck like a decorative scarf, though neither end meets or crosses, as he strides across the room. After several minutes of silent observation, curiosity gets the better of him. “Whattacha workin’ on there, Bons?”

Turquoise hues begrudgingly lift upwards, departing from the pages of her splayed open notebook. The pages are jammed full of fresh equations, side-notes, and scribbled addendums. Bonnie had been working on adding more when he interrupted. Michael looked as shiny as a brand new penny with his damp mop of curls. The smile that accompanies his inquiry encourages her to answer. “I was...” Bonnie starts, praying he didn’t find her too nerdy to be attractive, “working on the coding mechanisms for the Foundation. Since some of the systems have been compromised, I’m working on making security-related improvements. I can’t really do too much without the computer physically in front of me, but this will give me ideas on what to try first.” She invitingly pats the opposite side of the mattress for him to sit down.

Michael can’t help but be impressed and his eyebrows elevate as he listens to her. “Ya mean all that jibberish is the code that will protect the Foundation?” He can hardly mask the surprise in his own inquiry as he seats himself beside her.

The brunette cocks her head casually to the side, stifling a soft laugh. Her eyes can’t help but dance with light as they focus on him.“Well, it is really a prototype of the code.” She should have known, that to his untrained eye, it would be interpreted as the equivalent of a foreign language filled with indiscernible hieroglyphics. Never one to excessively flaunt her intelligence, Bonnie slid the notebook closed and placed it and her pencil on the nightstand beside the bed.

Chewing the corner of her lip briefly, she adds, “and I was watching this show. I hate to say it, but they’re doing the repairs on that truck wrong.” Her gaze flashes towards the motion on the screen. Realizing that this made her sound overly critical, she tacks on, “not even terrible modifications are done that way. It is not only a fire hazard, but it is a good way to lose mechanical control on the road when you hit anything above fifty miles-per-hour.” She would have delved further into the complicated explanation but she really didn’t want to right now. “Feel free to change the channel to something better. I really stopped watching it intently about ten minutes ago when he started to cross the wrong wires.” She confides, slumping back against the pillows behind her.

Normally, Michael would hazard a guess at where the show’s mechanic went wrong but he doesn’t want to appear dim-witted, in her eyes, should his assumption be incorrect. So he willingly lets her remark evaporate into the air around him. He follows her lead, flopping back against pillows that rested against the bed’s headboard. He gleefully takes up the remote as he makes himself comfortable beside her. “What do ya wanna watch?”

“Anything but that last show and the news,” she answers with a half scrunched up nose.

Those requests were easy enough to abide by. He settles for something that appears to be a romantic comedy. It was hard to tell for certain if that was exactly what he landed upon because the movie was half-way through. Most women loved the silly Hallmark romances, right? Where could he go wrong? However, Bonnie wasn’t just any woman, so he studies her in order to gauge her reaction to his selection. To his pleasant surprise, she not only smiles, she hands him the champagne bottle.

“We might as well enjoy it since it’s free,” Bonnie offers. The way she said it, felt lame as it steamrolls passed her lips. The statement felt duller than she intended. Bonnie wanted to say something more meaningful, more intimate but that would be wrong. Wouldn’t it? He remains forbidden fruit.

Michael doesn’t even seem to notice the lackluster capacity of her suggestion. He cheerfully opens the bottle and pours them both a glass. They were certainly responsible adults. “So, what are we toastin’ to?” After a thoughtful pause, he jokingly adds, “and please don’t say this room or Devon.”

As strange as it might sound when Bonnie passed him the bottle, she hadn’t considered the idea that there would be a toast worth giving. At least, not one that should be shared between co-workers. She runs her pointer-finger slowly across her lower-lip giving herself time to think of something. Work. It was the safest of all of their options given their present predicament. Although, in her heart, she would prefer toasting to this night together. “How about a toast to us?” She eagerly proposes, her turquoise orbs hesitantly floating over to examine him.

Michael chokes in astonishment.“To us?” He parrots. He isn’t going to lie, he really enjoys the sound of that. It leaves so many wonderful possibilities and it swung open far too many doors.

Shifting in her place, she affirms. “Yeah. To us.” A proud smile steals across her lips. Bonnie pauses to untangle her thoughts before finally clarifying, “to us making a great team and resolving this case together.”

Leaning in, he smoothly returns, “I think I can drink to that.”

Lifting her glass the brunette breathes, “here is to us getting Kent back and rescuing the Foundation.” Of course, they hadn’t resolved the case just yet but what harm could a premature celebration be?

Setting aside their empty glasses, the two FLAG agents snuggle on top of the blankets to catch the remainder of the movie. While there are heaps of pillows around them, Bonnie opts to rest her head against Michael’s nearest shoulder. Every so often, the brunette would sneak glances up at him through the tangles of her long dark lashes. He is so close. Almost too close but she doesn’t pull away and to her surprise neither does he.

“Look at them, Michael! How do they not see it?! They are so in love and they are so perfect for each other.” She dreamily exclaims, pointing in the direction of the movie.

Michael’s azure hues snapped towards the screen the very instant she pointed. He had only been half watching the movie, the rest of his attention had been on her. He chuckles a little too loudly at her remark but the sound is edged with unusual jitters. “I don’t know.” His large hand massages the back of his neck because he is well aware that he is holding back just like the unfortunate man in the fictitious premise of the movie. “You’re right, though. It is glaringly obvious that they do belong together.” Maybe, this hadn’t been the right channel selection?

“Bonnie?” He asks, her name departing his lips in an adoring sotto voce. His gaze slowly flutters back down to her.

“Yeah?” She prompts in reply, cheating and focusing half of her attention on Michael and the other half on the movie.

He angles his head downwards and to the side slightly to get a better view of her. Swallowing sharply, he knows that this wasn’t going to be easy. There was a strong likelihood that what he is about to say will have him spending the night on the floor. Yet, he feels compelled to speak. “There is somethin’ I’ve been wantin’ to tell you.” Michael starts, his brow glistening with sweat as he dares to meet her gaze.

Captivated, Bonnie concentrates fully upon him and she giddily prompts.“Oh? What is it?” Without giving him much time to impart his next statement she interjects “wait. Let me guess?” Her lips twist into a jovial grin as she speculates, “you want to tell me that your shirt is too big on me? Or I wouldn’t like a pair of your shorts because it’s got that funny hole in them?” She hardly finishes her assumptions before she falls into a fit of giggling.

“Well, yes... and no.” He starts, laughing till his chest hurt. His shirt was a little big for her. Still, Bonnie was practically killing him with the mental picture of her in more than just his shirt. However, it was ridiculous to imagine her wearing any of his pants, his shorts especially. His legs were at least a foot longer than her’s. Shaking off the useless imaginings, he tries to regain control of the more serious conversation he hoped to start. “First of all, my shirt looks it’s best when you wear it, over-sized or not. It has never looked better.” He almost suggests that she keep it, but he wonders if that is taking things a bit too far and too fast. “And unless I’m missin’ my mark here, you’ve already tried on my shorts. Haven’t you?” An air of playful accusation colors his tone. What had given away the fact she had tampered with his shorts, was the fact that they were folded differently than the way he had done them and then they were left on the bathroom sink for him when he went to take his shower.

His laughter feels like the presence of sunshine, balmy and wholly welcomed. She hadn’t been expecting his compliments and as a result, her face slowly stained red. The hilarious accusation, though it was spot-on, deepened the color to a lovely shade of plum. “Okay. So, I’m a little guilty. I was afraid you’d see too much of my legs. You don’t think I’m showing too much skin. Do you?”

Lord. Who suddenly turned the room’s temperature up a hundred degrees? So this was how it felt to be a cake in the nearly 400-degree oven. Michael’s gaze swiftly sweeps up the exposed expanse of her legs. “No.” He sharply swallows the lump of lust rising in his throat. “No, I don’t think there is too much showin’...” Heaven help him if he continued to vocalize the rest of that thought! “And I really have to tell you this or I think I just might burst.” This time his statement is firmer than he actually intended. “I...” He delicately uses his free hand to sweep some of Bonnie’s straying dark strands from her eyes before tucking them back behind her ear. He leans himself nearer until his lips are scantly a breath away from her’s. He can do this. Kitt was right! The whole fear thing was plain silly!!! He just has to rip the bandage off no matter the cost. His heart fiercely bellows out for mercy with every beat. “I....”

Bonnie smiles as he tucks her hair behind her ear, a corner of her lower-lip catches between her teeth. She has a sneaking suspicion that she knows just where this conversation is going and it terrifies her so greatly, she can feel the harsh throbbing of her heart all the way up in the hollows of her ears. The brunette can sense the lingering of his eyes upon her lips and her own gaze ventures briefly to his. If ever there were a silent, touch-less exchange of a kiss, there was one now looming in the air between them.

“I think I... lov...” He starts, his voice is huskier than he desired it to be. He was about to finish that statement when Kitt interrupts with a series of beeps.

“Michael?” Kitt innocently starts.

There is a mild explosion of exasperation in Michael’s tone when he answers, “Kitt? Can it wait? I’m in the middle of somethin’ important?!” Kitt’s timing couldn’t have been any worse not even on a bad day.

The Bostonian voice that answers holds an apologetic air, “I’m sorry, Michael. It can’t. A group of vicious-looking men are headed your way armed with guns and an battery-operated saw.”

Bonnie’s eyes round as she removes her head from Michael’s shoulder. The fact that these “armed” men were headed in their direction with guns and a saw couldn’t be a coincidence. Now could it?

The warning doesn’t come a moment too soon as a little less than a minute later their door comes crashing in, deadbolt and all.

#The Not So Lonesome Knight fan fic #The Not So Lonesome Knight fanfic #The Not So Lonesome Knight part 16 #my fan fic #bonniebarstowofflag

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bonnie-barstow-of-flag · 4 years ago

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The Not So Lonesome Knight Part 17:

Parts 1 X, 2 X , 3 X , 4 X, 5 X , 6 X , 7 X, 8 X, 9 X 10 X, 11 X , 12 X, 13 X ,14 X, 15 X 16 X

The two FLAG agents aren’t given much of an opportunity to react. Michael finds himself making an agonizing split-second decision. Does he race across the room to retrieve his gun in the off-chance that he could neutralize a few of the uninvited interlopers or does he pull Bonnie as far from the looming danger as possible?

Adrenaline and instinct kick in simultaneously. His protective hands urge Bonnie out of bed and towards the bathroom. Internally, he prays that his body can fashion enough of a shield until he could barricade her behind the door. It is not a full-blown plan but it was the best he could formulate under the circumstances.

Bonnie blindly ambles in Michael’s wake, having been partially paralyzed by the cold terror swirling through her entire circulatory system. Her trembling fingers curl tightly around his hand as she cowers in his shadow. “Think these are the same guys who broke into our last room and then stole my clothes?”

“I don’t know, Bons, but I’m pretty sure we’re about to find out. I’m thinkin’ there is a very high likelihood these goons are one and the same.” Michael replies stiffly, through his tightly clenched teeth. An air of control attempts to filter through the panic in his azure orbs.

Reflecting on the earlier incident when she had been scared enough to look, Bonnie makes a terrible realization. “There is no back way out of this room. Is there?”

He could feel the heavy pang of his heart against the insides of his rib-cage. “No.” He grumbles, despising the very sound of his own reply. That was a problem Michael hoped he wouldn’t have to manufacture an answer for. However, now that Bonnie mentioned it, it sent his mind reeling. His lips purse firmly together. While he didn’t mind putting himself in precarious positions, he never wanted to do so with Bonnie. Tonight, it would seem that he’d have no choice. They were trapped! Offering Bonnie a shred of hope, Michael adds, “but we’re going to be fine. We have the upper hand. We have Kitt. Remember?”

How could she have ever forgotten about Kitt? There was hope after all!!!

While they move, Michael pulls the com-link close to his mouth. “Kitt? Where are ya, Buddy? We’re gonna need ya.” He beckons, the tension in his chord laying thicker than peanut butter. He continued edging himself in front of Bonnie as the Colombians close in upon them like a pack of ravenous wolves.

Instead of receiving the typical answer, the line of communication fizzles into an unexpected and eerie static. Not even the swishing of Kitt’s continual moving scanners offers a response.

Bonnie designed all of Kitt’s functions far better than airlines did black-boxes!! Kitt doesn’t just unexpectedly fail!!!

Before the horror could fully register a rough, heavily accented voice, barks for them to cease their retreat with the promise of firing upon them should they fail to comply.

Their movements towards the bathroom halts in response. Bonnie’s uncertain gaze flashes up to read Michael’s reaction to the threats.

Michael finds himself weighing the options. While conceding to the enemy was never a reasonable nor wonderful solution, he can’t risk further endangering Bonnie’s life or any of the other innocent motel patrons. They are heavily outnumbered two to eleven, outgunned, and surrounded. From his experience as a cop, Knight quickly assesses that any attempts to put up a fight would be futile and could potentially end in bloodshed. Especially, if he couldn’t rely on immediate assistance from Kitt. After a moment’s deliberation, Michael decides to make a proposition. “I’ll tell ya what. I’ll come with you willingly if ya promise to leave her behind and that you won’t harm her.”

Bemused, the hardened Colombian enforcer’s brow rose an inch. His harsh lips upturn just enough to emit a laugh before giving a gruff reply, “No.” Taking steps towards Michael and Bonnie he adds, “you see, we no negotiate with you. He wants you both, we give him you both.” The stony cold expression never wavered even as he snaps his fingers to command his host of foot-soldiers. Within seconds, Bonnie and Michael are surrounded by seven of the eleven men. That left four guards, two on each side of the door.

Obviously, making a deal with the goons wasn’t on the tables. Michael’s shoulders slump in defeat. Pulling his nose into a scrunch and delivering a snarl, Knight retorts, “just who is this leader anyways?” He pauses before sarcastically spitting, “the king of the Looney-bin?”

The head enforcer’s eyes narrow.

Michael’s wisecrack draws a brief hint of a smile to Bonnie’s face. If she wasn’t so scared, she might have allowed herself to laugh freely. Somehow she believed that any display of amusement would not be well-received. Especially, when she and Michael both have the barrels of high-powered guns nuzzled uncomfortably into their backs.

“Senior Orlando Calderone and his mistress send their greetings.” The enforcer’s gravelly voice finally conveys.

The two FLAG agents find their countenances exuding maximum confusion. The name revealed certainly didn’t ring a bell. Who was he? Who the hell was his mistress? What did they want? To the best of their combined knowledge, the Foundation never delved into the illicit activities of anyone owning that name. However, the mistress could be any woman at all, even Grace Stevens. In a way, it felt as though, they were still getting nowhere fast.

Although, the last name Calderone did give off a faint spark of recognition somewhere in the shadowy recesses of Michael Long’s mind. But the memories that belonged to Knight’s previous identity were buried, heavily dusted over and mangled in the cob-webs of time. He says nothing to that effect, worried that any minuscule sliver of remembrance might result in the placement of a bullet in his head or heart. Or worse, in Bonnie’s.

Bonnie, having found herself with a distinct distaste for the enigmas known as Calderone and his mistress, vehemently retorts, “yeah. Well, you can tell them just where to shove those greetings!”

Unaffected by the woman’s pointed words, the enforcer instructs his soldiers to do a pat-down on both the agents.

“I’ll save you the trouble, my guns over there,” Michael remarks. He just wants to get this over with as fast and painlessly as possible. One of the goons immediately confiscates the weapon. Much to Knight’s annoyance, hands still inspect every inch of him.

Bonnie lets out a low growl at the invasive manhandling as one goon took a little longer on her than he should have. Before she could insist that he take his hands off of her, Michael strenuously interjected on her behalf. “Come on, Man! You and I both know she hasn’t got a weapon under there. Leave her alone.” He shrugs off the hands that were on him and threatens to grab the no-good pervert with the intention of flinging him across the room. It is clear that the Colombian had provoked his ire.

“It’s okay, Michael. He’s done.” Bonnie shoots the Colombian foot-soldier a glance that practically dares him to defy her. There is something familiar about him. She has seen him before and somewhat recently too! But where? Her eyes squint as she attempts to recollect where. At the first convenience, she might ask Michael if he knows. That is, if they survived the miserable ordeal long enough.

((this is the first time I’m publishing a chapter without the following being written already. But I figure I’ve made everyone wait long enough.))

#The Not So Lonesome Knight part 17 #The Not So Lonesome Knight fan fic #my fan fic #the long awaited chapter that I've been delaying posting because I wanted to make it better- is here

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