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flowerfan2 · 4 years ago

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David x Patrick, 37k so far, A03. Read from the beginning here. Updates weekly. Angst, h/c, with a happy ending (honestly the happy happens way before the ending...)

Summary: Being stuck in the Milwaukee airport is bad enough. Then David realizes that the man who broke his heart is sitting right next to him. After a rom-com worthy reunion, David decides he won't walk away again.

Chapter 12

Patrick wakes up the next morning to David smiling at him, already dressed in his running clothes. He stretches up and David leans down, giving him a chaste kiss that shouldn’t make either of them blush the way it does.

“Have a good run,” Patrick says, and David purses his lips to hide his smile.

“Thanks.”

After David leaves the room Patrick turns and flops over, looking for a cool place on the pillow to hide his face.

He knows why he feels so exposed this morning. He and David have finally confronted the elephant in the room (not an elephant - “elephants are not sexy,” he can hear the David-in-his-mind chiding him) about their lack of intimacy, and although things almost went absolutely to shit, it all worked out okay. More than okay.

And to be fair, saying that they haven’t been “intimate” isn’t quite right. David said something last night that lights Patrick up inside when he remembers it.

“I kind of liked just being close to you.”

David said it like a confession, like a beautiful secret he was holding close. And Patrick loves him for it, because even while Patrick was feeling guilty about not going further physically, he was soaking up the joy of being close to David.

Patrick wants to kick himself for trying to rush them past this, this opportunity to give each other the comfort they both so desperately need. Because Patrick was so busy worrying, he almost missed it.

They’ve gone about things differently this time around, for sure. Back in Schitt’s Creek, the beginning of their relationship was full of firsts, and it was as heated and horny as Patrick always wished he felt as a teenager. This time, although they were drawn together from the beginning, it has been for warmth and tenderness, rather than sex. And David doesn’t mind – more than that, he likes it.

It makes Patrick nearly cheer with glee, here under the blankets that are still warm with David’s body heat, that still smell of his cedar cologne. He knows they have a lot to talk about, and a lot to process, but he can feel the bond between them growing stronger with every difficult conversation. Every time they confront something that has the potential to drive them apart, and instead use it to heal and make new connections, Patrick thinks they are that much closer to something that will last.

He can hardly believe all that has happened over the past few days. Stevie appearing on their doorstep was a real change-up that could have ended in disaster. Instead, Patrick discovered that the rift between Stevie and David was caused by David being concerned for Patrick, even while believing that Patrick had cheated on him. Patrick can’t help but find this endearing, even though David was wrong about him, and wrong in assuming that he should cut ties with Stevie the way he did.

Frankly, Patrick has felt pretty bad over the past few years, knowing that Stevie and David weren’t talking. Their friendship had seemed to be rock solid, and he knew it must have hurt for David to lose her, and vice versa. But he had never imagined that David had arranged the whole mess himself. He feels a pang of guilt for not pressing Stevie harder about what happened, but then again, it sounds like Stevie didn’t really know at the time, either.

And regardless of what David did and why, he and Stevie seem to mended things. Last night David’s face lit up when Stevie texted him silly photos of her and Ruth at Disney World, posing with princesses at a character dinner. Although he might deny how much it matters to him, David is clearly thrilled to have his friend back.

Patrick finally forces himself to get out of bed and into the shower. He stands under the hot water for a while, pleased to find that his various aches and pains are really much improved. Even the nasty bruises on his ribs are better, most of the area now yellow or a faint green, instead of the dark purple from ten days ago.

David’s still out of the house when he finishes, so Patrick takes his time shaving. He finds it easier to look at himself in the mirror these days, and it’s not just because his hair is starting to grow in over the healing gash on his head.

David’s toiletries are spread out all over the countertop. Patrick recognizes most of them, although there are some face creams that seem to be new. Not everything is RA branded, probably because they stopped carrying some of the products when the brand cut down to just items needed for the motels.

Patrick picks up David’s cologne and sprays a little bit on himself, knowing it will make David smile. There’s a moisturizer that looks familiar, and of course the body milk, still a Rose Apothecary favorite. He pauses when he sees a little round pot of lip balm. Raising it to his face, Patrick twists the top off and breathes it in.

It’s a citrus blend with a fresh scent, a pale yellow balm that Patrick can’t help but sample. He purses his lips and smooths it on, and suddenly feels a wave of déjà vu.

This is the lip balm David had been sourcing just before everything fell apart. Patrick liked the scent, and thought it would be popular; David found the vendor difficult and didn’t want to agree to the terms she was requesting. And both of them were annoyed that the vendor insisted on using a hard to find base for the product which might delay production. They had almost agreed to go for it anyway (“it’s not La Mer, but it is remarkably moisturizing”) when their relationship imploded and new products were the last thing on Patrick’s mind.

He’s lost in thought, holding the little tub in the palm of his hand, when David leans against the open door of the bathroom and dances his fingers along Patrick’s bare shoulders. “Find something you like?”

Patrick holds out the lip balm. “I didn’t know you made this one.”

David stills, then takes it from Patrick and plays with it in his hand, tightening the lid and then showing it to Patrick. Limited Edition appears under the Rose Apothecary logo.

“You said it smelled like sunshine,” David says, looking anywhere but at Patrick. “I ordered a box. I was going to give them to you, one of the million or so times I imagined finding a way to see you again.” David squirms, rolls his eyes and then holds it out to Patrick. “Here. Better late than never.”

Patrick smiles and leans over to kiss David, so David can taste his lips, already coated in citrusy goodness. After they broke up, David had the lip balm Patrick liked made. He wore it on his lips, thinking of him. His heart swells. “Thank you. I love it.” Patrick sets the lip balm back down on the countertop, tapping it with a finger. “Do you have any more?”

David gives him a wry smile. “I think there were 144 in the carton, so, yeah. I have a few left.”

*****

“Tell me again why we can’t go out?” David is pouting, looking outside at the bright blue sky.

“You are welcome to go anywhere you want,” Patrick says. “But the window company is coming to install new hurricane screens, and I told my mom I’d be home to supervise.”

David turns towards Patrick, who is idly channel surfing, looking for something interesting to watch on television. “Wait, what did you say?”

“The window guys are coming, and I told my mom I’d be here.”

“I believe you also said hurricane.”

“Well, yeah. There are these special covering screens that you can pull over the windows in case of hurricanes, and some of them got dented or something and don’t extend right, so we’re having them fixed and some new ones installed.”

“Patrick.” David backs away from the large patio door and into the center of the room, eyes wide. “You did not tell me about hurricanes.”

“It’s Florida, sometimes there are hurricanes. This isn’t exactly news.”

“I agreed to alligators, and bugs, and apparently I am also risking my toes to fire ants. But hurricanes were never mentioned.”

“You didn’t ask for a disclosure form.” Patrick stands up and approaches David, who is looking around the room as if the wind was going to pick up any minute and blow the house away like Dorothy’s farmhouse. “And there’s really nothing to worry about. It isn’t even hurricane season.”

“There’s a season?”

“Yup. And it ends in November.”

“It was November just a few days ago.”

“Even if it was still November, there are hardly ever any hurricanes that late – maybe a tropical storm or two. Most of the hurricanes are between August and October.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel safe?”

“Yes, it is.” Patrick runs his hands down David’s shoulders, grasping lightly at his elbows. “Would it make you feel better to hear more about how the hurricane screens protect us from the scary storms?”

David frowns, and then gives his shoulders a shake. “Yes.”

Patrick pulls David down to sit on the couch with him and takes out his laptop. “Look, the nice people from the hurricane screen company emailed us all kinds of information. I bet they’d even let you watch them work.”

David glares at Patrick. “I don’t appreciate you making jokes at my expense.”

Patrick grins back. “We can watch a movie later, continue your education. Maybe Twister.”

“You think you’re funny. That’s not about a hurricane, anyway.”

Patrick thinks for a minute. “There’s the one with the boat, in New England. A Perfect Storm. George Clooney’s in it.”

David smirks at Patrick. “George Clooney, huh? How old were you when that movie came out, maybe ten? Eleven?”

“My dad likes movies about boats,” Patrick protests, his face feeling warm.

“If you’re in the mood for George Clooney, we should watch Ocean’s Eleven,” David says. “At least that’s got Julia Roberts.”

“Leave it to you to know that.”

“I’ll have you know that Clooney’s been in other movies with Julia too, and one with Sandra Bullock.”

“Sounds like someone has a bit of a fixation.”

“I know everything there is to know about Julia and Sandra. This cannot come as a surprise to you. This body of knowledge just happens to include some information about George Clooney.”

Patrick catches David’s gaze, and then rakes his eyes up and down his body, as obviously as possible. “Maybe I have a type.”

David looks like he’s about to jump out of his seat. “Are you telling me I look like George Clooney?”

Patrick does think there’s a certain something about both of them, around the eyes, and the way they smirk. And David will look fantastic if he goes salt and pepper the way Clooney has. But they’re not really that similar.

“No.”

“Oh.” Disappointment flashes across David’s face.

Patrick leans in and traces David’s cheekbone. “You are much, much prettier than he is,” he says, his voice low.

Sadly, it is at this precise moment that the doorbell rings, depriving Patrick of the chance to bathe David’s blushing cheeks in kisses. He gives David a quick peck and goes to answer the door.

*****

David excuses himself to do some work in the office while Patrick talks to the window installers, and reappears only after the workers have left. They settle on the couch, bickering for a while about what movie to watch, and finally agree on Ocean’s Eleven (although David won’t commit to the entire trilogy, as Julia Roberts isn’t in Ocean’s Thirteen).

David seems jumpy all through the movie, and it makes Patrick worried. He thinks about their conversation last night, both of them noting – correctly – that they should have just said something about what was going on, and David practically begging Patrick to tell him if he thought there was something David should do differently.

He pushes away the small pang of hurt at the memory that David rejected his advances, reminding himself that David is scared about this, too. Not to mention that he doesn’t ever want to fall into the category of people who David regrets having sex with.

A shudder runs through him as he remembers David implying rather strongly that he’s been in sexual situations he didn’t consent to. Of course it’s at this moment that David interrupts his train of thought, doing exactly what Patrick had been working up to.

“Patrick? Everything okay?”

Patrick focuses on David, looking gorgeous in a leopard print sweater that fits snugly around his chest and shoulders. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

David fiddles with the remote and mutes the television. After a long moment goes by, he gives Patrick a look. “What? I asked first.”

Patrick snorts a little bit and slides closer to David on the couch. “I was thinking about last night.”

David nods. “Mmm. Me too.” He glances quickly at Patrick’s hand, resting on his knee, and lets go of the remote to grab it. His palm is sweaty, which is very unlike David, and that’s when Patrick is certain that he’s nervous. “I hope you know that I do want you,” David says, a slight blush tinting his cheeks. “Very much.”

Patrick can’t help the shiver of arousal that goes through him just at these simple words. He realizes with relief that he hasn’t felt this way in a long time, that last night was really the first time in ages that he was attracted to someone and comfortable about it, excited and happy and pleased and – safe.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Patrick says, pressing his knee against David’s. “I want you too. I mean, you probably figured that out, but in case there was any doubt, I do.”

David gives some sort of disbelieving head toss and purses his lips. “I’m not naïve enough to think that just because someone comes on to me they actually want me.”

Patrick feels his stomach swoop. “David?” He shuffles closer and lays a hand gently on David’s shoulder. “You know that’s not me, right?”

David rolls his eyes, but Patrick can tell he’s not convinced. And oh, there it is, that’s why David hesitated last night. Beneath all of his new athletic accomplishment, his designer sweaters and his continually impressive pompadour, David is still unsure of himself when it comes to his worth. David took a leap, coming with Patrick to Florida at a time when Patrick himself was wobbly with self-doubt (he’s still wobbly, he knows it), but inside, he’s still David. And whatever harm was done when the two of them broke up won’t be fixed in a week.

Patrick lays his head on David’s shoulder and puts his arm around him, pulling him close. He can feel David relax against his body, and he waits to make sure his breathing calms before he speaks.

“You’re going to trust me again, David,” Patrick says, and it’s not a command. It’s a promise. “We’re going to be okay. We’re going to get through this, and when we come together again, it’s going to last. We’ll be solid.”

David nods against his head. “I’d like that.”

“Just give it a little time. It’s okay to be nervous.”

David stills. “Does being nervous mean I don’t have enough… faith in us?”

“No,” Patrick says, trying to pour every inch of sincerity he has into his words. “Absolutely not. Being nervous is natural. It’s expected. Given what happened between us, I’d be surprised if you weren’t a little nervous.”

“I don’t want to hurt like that again,” David whispers, and Patrick’s heart clenches.

“I don’t want you to ever hurt like that again,” Patrick says.

“How do we do it differently this time?”

“Maybe just like this. We talk more, if something’s wrong.”

“I didn’t say anything was wrong.”

Patrick smirks. David can’t help himself, even in the middle of this heartfelt conversation. “You’re right – nothing’s wrong. We’re doing it right.”

David sighs and leans into him. “Doing it right is hard, and kind of terrifying.”

“Don’t worry, the hurricane screens will protect us.”

#schitt's creek #David x Patrick #Schitt's Creek fic #David Rose #Patrick Brewer #SC fic #Schitt's Creek fanfic

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ladyherenya · 4 years ago

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Books read in September

I had a moment of intense self-centredness and, internally, wailed: Why isn’t the world filled with more books that appeal exactly to me???

I’ve concluded that it’s like I have an inner story-troll sitting inside me shouting: Tell me a story! I try to appease it by presenting it with books, one at a time, and seeing how it reacts.

Favourite cover: Flyaway.

Reread: The Shadowy Horses by Susanna Kearsley. (I also reread From All False Doctrine at least twice.)

Also read: The Disastrous Début of Agatha Tremain by Stephanie Burgis and Snow Day by Andrea K Höst.

Still reading: The Time-Traveling Popcorn Ball by Aster Glenn Gray and The Game of Kings by Dorothy Dunnett,

Next up: I have borrowed The Other Side of the Sky by Amie Kaufman and Meagan Spooner, Taking Down Evelyn Tait by Poppy Nwosu, and Between Silk and Cyanide: A Code Maker’s War, 1941-45 by Leo Marks. And maybe I’ll finally get around to The Dictionary of Lost Words by Pip Williams?

The City of Brass by S.A. Chakroborty (narrated by Soneela Nankani): I think this Middle East-inspired fantasy was just not the story I was in the headspace for -- it was longer, with more complicated worldbuilding and fewer answers. Possibly I’d have followed the political intrigue of Daevabad better had I read this in one gulp (I got halfway through the 20-hour-long audiobook before it was due back and I read other books before picking up the ebook). I liked the two protagonists, enough that I’m curious about what happens to them next, but the second book is 23 hours long and undoubtedly won’t resolve everything either. Maybe another day.

Tuyo by Rachel Neumeier: Ryo is left as a “tuyo” -- a sacrifice to be killed by an enemy -- as a sign that his tribe will withdraw from the Ugaro’s war with the Lau. But his captor doesn’t want to kill him, he wants Ryo to help him stop the war. Neumeier effectively creates tension between people who are polite, honest and honourable, and shows an intriguing relationship, defined by mutual respect, fealty and something more familial. There’s also some unusual magically-defying-physics-as-we-know-it worldbuilding but apparently I was far more interested in the character dynamics. I enjoyed this. Sequel, please?

From All False Doctrine by Alice Degan: My favourite book this year! Toronto, August 1925. Elsa Nordqvist, who hopes to write her MA thesis on a recently-discovered Greek manuscript, is at the beach with a friend when they meet two foster-brothers. This meeting deftly sets up everything which follows. The cover says “A Love Story” but this is also like a cross between a Golden-Age mystery novel and a fairytale retelling, with bonus academia and Anglicanism. I really like how much these characters value their friendships, their lively, intelligent and often honest conversations, and the way the romance unfolds. It also feels like a story written just for me and a hard one to review because my reaction has been very personal.

The Haunting of Tram Car 015 by P. Djèlí Clark (narrated by Julian Thomas): Set in the same city as A Dead Djinn in Cairo, this novella follows two agents from the Ministry of Alchemy, Enchantments and Supernatural Entities as they investigate a possessed tram car. The world-building is vivid and cleverly, thoughtfully, imaginative. But, perhaps because of the mood I’m in and because this story isn’t interested in exploring the personal lives of its detectives, I have no feelings about this.

The Angel of Crows by Katherine Addison: Sherlock Holmes wingfic involving Jack the Ripper murders. Not what I’m looking for in a Holmes retelling. But I was sufficiently intrigued by something the author wrote. I really like Crow and Dr Doyle (arguably more than their original counterparts). My interest wavered a bit during the second half. It closely mimics the style and structure of the original mysteries in many ways and that’s not my favourite style. I wanted fewer cases to solve, and more of Crow and Doyle interactions. I liked the ending, enough to be glad that I hadn’t given up halfway through.

Making Friends with Alice Dyson by Poppy Nsowu: Australian YA. Alice plans to spend her final year of high school staying invisible and studying hard, but is thrown into the spotlight after someone posts a video of her dancing with Teddy Taualai. I loved how intensely this captures Alice’s emotions and perspective, and how the story explores that people have different emotions, perspectives and needs. Alice seems to me like someone who might be on the autism spectrum -- and whether or not that’s what the author intended, it’s great to see characters like her represented. I wish it had unpacked her relationship with her parents more, but that didn’t negate how much I enjoyed this.

Always and Forever, Lara Jean by Jenny Han (narrated by Laura Knight Keating): I can’t remember why, after I read To all the boys I’ve loved before and P.S. I still love you in 2017, I decided against reading the third book. It turned out to be my favourite. I loved it! I had a different experience of finishing high school and applying for university, but I find Lara Jean’s perspective intensely relatable: she has strong opinions about aesthetics; she’s nostalgic, introspective, stressed by uncertainty; she enjoys spending time at home with her family. I liked how this book captures her wonder at the intimacy of knowing another person well, and how, although she sometimes worries about their future, she has very few doubts about Peter himself. I haven’t come across very many YA novels in which a teenage girl is so secure being in a relationship.

The Rose Garden by Susanna Kearsley: After her sister dies, Eva stays with family friends in Cornwall, where she and Katrina spent summers years ago. I wasn’t expecting time-travel. I like time-travel stories, and I like how Kearsley handles it here. Eva’s choices make sense, given her situation, and the story emphasises that, even though she cannot control when she travels in time, there are still many choices she can actively make. So Eva becomes fascinated with 1715, because of the people she meets there and the relationships they develop... but I wanted to spend more time in the present-day Trelowarth, with its rose gardens and new tea room.

Flyaway by Kathleen Jennings: After she receives a mysterious note, nineteen year old Bettina flouts her mother’s rules for ladylike behaviour and embarks on a roadtrip with a couple of forgotten friends in search of her brothers, who disappeared three years ago. I loved some of the descriptions, especially seeing a rural Australian setting for this sort of fantasy. Jennings creates a wonderfully eerie atmosphere and the mystery kept me reading. However, the folktale parts of the story are dark, uncomfortably so. Very successfully Gothic, just ultimately not really my brand of Gothic.

The Duke Who Didn’t by Courtney Milan: There’s something so incredibly soft about this romance -- yet at the same time, it’s about two people who work fiercely towards their goals, worry about things, and are acutely aware of the discrimination they and other they love face as Chinese people in late 19th century England. Chloe and Jeremy’s relationship is characterised by banter and gentle teasing that reveals just well they know and accept and care about each other. Moreover, they have friends and relatives -- and a community -- who are supportive. I really enjoyed reading this and appreciated how low-angst it is.

The Threefold Tie by Aster Glenn Gray: Very tender. The characters convinced me that they were capable of communicating honesty with each other and making an unconventional relationship work. I liked the prose, which is no great surprise.

Hamster Princess: Whiskerella by Ursula Vernon (aka T. Kingfisher): This time, adventure finds Harriet at home: her parents are throwing a masked ball so she can “meet some nice young princes without terrifying them”. But the princes are all preoccupied with a beautiful stranger, and Harriet is distracted by the mystery: who is this hamster, how did she get in without an invitation and what sort of magic is behind her glass slippers? I think this is my favourite of Harriet’s adventures (so far). I loved the humour in this one.

Echo North by Joanna Ruth Meyer: When Echo finds her missing father unconscious and half-frozen in the woods, she is given a choice by the white wolf. A retelling of “East of the Sun, West of the Moon” with elements from “Beauty and the Beast” and “Tam Lin” thrown in, this has so many things which appeal to me, including an unexpected and wonderful library. Yet I found it frustrating and slow; the prose and the characters are rather straightforward, and I predicted nearly all the twists (bar the finale). But I believe that this tale could delight a younger, or a less critical reader.

The Disastrous Début of Agatha Tremain by Stephanie Burgis: In the two years since she turned sixteen and dismissed her governess, Agatha has been free to disregard ladylike behaviour, studying the books in her father’s library and teach herself magic. But then her aunt arrives and insists upon Agatha making a social début. This novelette is another story that I suspect I’d like more if it had been longer, if some of its ideas had been expanded upon and some of the relationships been given more space to develop. Agatha’s aunt and her motivations were unexpected, and I wasn’t entirely comfortable or satisfied with how that was resolved.

Snow Day by Andrea K. Höst: This novelette takes place after the Touchstone trilogy, more specifically after In Arcadia. Two outsiders get to see Cass and her family on Snow Day, and reveal a bit about their upbringing on Kolar. This feels very much like fanfiction which just happens to be written by the author. It is fun to see familiar characters through others’ eyes and the expanded worldbuilding is interesting, but as a narrative, it seemed somewhat incomplete. (Maybe she’s planning something more with these characters?)

#Herenya reviews books #Rachel Neumeier #Alice Degan #Katherine Addison #Poppy Nwosu #Susanna Kearsley #Ursula Vernon #Joanna Ruth Meyer #Jenny Han #Katheen Jennings #Courtney Milan #P. Djèlí Clark #Stephanie Burgis #Andrea K Höst #S. A. Chakraborty #Aster Glenn Gray

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fanficsaremylifeline · 5 years ago

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Fandom: Captain America (Movies) Relationships: Rebecca Barnes Proctor & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes & Rebecca Barnes Proctor & Steve Rogers Summary:

Rebecca's calm life in the retirement home is turned upside down once more, when all of a sudden Steve, who to her recollection died about seventy years ago, stands in her room, here to make good on a promise he made to her 81 years ago.

***

“Ms Barnes?” After a soft knock, Nurse Moira poked her head through Rebecca's door.

“What is it, dear?” Rebecca looked over at the woman and put her book down.

“You have a visitor.”

“Oh, I thought Adelaide wasn't going to come around this week.”

“No, Ms Barnes, there is a charming young man here, who'd like to see you”, she smiled.

Huh. Rebecca was pretty sure that the only charming young men she knew, worked here at the nursing home. Well, except for Philip, her godson. Though it would be very unlikely for him to visit on a Wednesday morning.

Nurse Moira turned around, probably to the man in question and gestured at Becca's door.

“Thanks.” He stepped into the room. And Rebecca could not believe her eyes. “Hey Becca.”

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me!” With what was probably a new record time for her, she jumped up from her chair and dashed straight towards the visitor. “Steve? Is that really...” She cupped his face, pulled him a little down, so she could properly inspect who she was pretty sure was a) dead and b) six years older than her, even though the man standing in front of her didn't look older than thirty. “Is that really you?”

“Yeah”, he nodded with the widest smile. “I know it's weird, but it's me.”

“Oh my!” She wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. “I missed you, so, so much!”

“I missed you, too.” Steve held her tight, leaning down just enough so he could rest his head on hers, while she pressed her face against his chest. It may have been 70 or so years, but Becca basked in the familiarity of his touch, his scent and her eyes filled with tears.

“Becca, you know damn well that if you start crying, so will I”, Steve laughed, but he was clearly choked up.

“Tough”, she sniffled, “that's just what you get for coming back from the dead.”

“Fair enough.”

Becca leaned back and looked up at him. “Steven Grant Rogers, you always were an impossible punk.”

“I think that's a compliment.”

“Yeah.” Without missing a beat, she boxed against his arm, as hard as she could.

“Ouch!”, he cried out, his face falling into offended confusion. “What was that for?”

“For dying after promising me you'll come back home! And this”, she hit his other arm, “is for you and Bucky needing to be self-sacrificing idiots!”

“I'm so sorry, I really am! We...”

“I'M NOT DONE YET! This”, she boxed against his stomach, “is for taking seventy years to come back.”

“Are you done?”

“One more. How DARE you look that good at 94?”

“That isn't actually my fault”, he defended himself, his arms raised up defensively.

Not that she had actually managed to hurt him; as fit as she was for her age, she was an old woman in her late eighties and Steve was – apparently still – in the prime of his life. Whatever Howard Stark had cooked up back then, it still worked wonders.

“Well, how about you and me go for a nice cup of coffee and you can tell me what the hell happened.”

Becca grabbed her purse and her walking stick and linked her free arm with Steve's.

“I don't suppose Mildred's is still open?”

“'Fraid not. But the one here in the park is just as good.”

After Steve had finished his story, Rebecca could only stare at him. “So, let me get this straight: you didn't actually die, you were just... deep-frozen?”

“Something like that. Don't ask me how they defrosted me, though; Bucky was always the science nerd.”

“Yeah... They didn't thaw my brother out with you by any chance?”

His smile dropped and he shook his head. “I'm sorry.”

“Not your fault.” She put on a smile, but Steve saw how much it pained her, and he got it. He felt just the same. Not exactly the same, to him all that was only weeks ago, not seventy years... “Besides”, she added, “I have made my peace with that. With losing you as well. Thank you, for that very unnecessary heartbreak.”

“I can't tell you how sorry I am.”

“I know you are. I know my Stevie after all”, she added with a grin.

“Yeah, you do. So, tell me about your life! What happened to you? Did you become a lawyer?”

“I did”, she smiled proudly, “eventually. I didn't get into a lawschool until '61, I tell you, it was a lot of work and fights to get through. But it was definitely worth it, I was one hell of an attorney.”

“I don't have any doubts, because you, my dear, are fierce.”

“You have no idea...”

“Oh, yeah I do”, Steve laughed, “I have been on the receiving end of your fierceness plenty of times.” She could get down right scary; almost as much as Steve's Mum.

“Well, you deserved it every time. I didn't get married. I don't feel like I missed out on anything though, all my nieces and god-children were enough for me.”

“Oh wow. Lizzie, Ruth... Are they...”

“No”, she shook her head, “you missed Lizzie by about four years. Ruthie, she… she got sick, just after the war ended.”

“Oh.” Steve’s heart just broke into a million pieces. The Barnes-girls were like sisters to him, and knowing he’d really never see the two again really hurt.

“Yeah... Lizzie did the whole housewife thing though, got married, has two amazing daughters, Jamie and Stephanie. Can you guess after whom they are named?”

“She named her daughters after us?” Oh, Steve felt his eyes starting to sting and filling with tears. This was so bizarre yet so amazing!

“Yeah. Jamie is 57, works in Seattle at an advertising firm, she has two sons, Richard and Martin, wonderful boys, both in college at the moment, Richard doing IT and Martin becoming a teacher. Stephanie is 55, lives in Washington, she studied politics and works actually in the White House. Being named after Captain America probably helped with that”, she giggled. “Anyways, she has a daughter, Melissa, who works at a publishers, and she is going to be married soon!”

“Wow.” So much information about so many people Steve should know but didn't. “I can't wait to meet them”, he just smiled.

“They'll be ecstatic to meet you too, Uncle Steve.”

He couldn't keep the snorted laugh in anymore. “Uncle Steve?” That sounded somehow weirdly nice, yet all kinds of wrong at the same time.

“That's you, believe it or not.”

“It is not the most improbable thing that happened in the last few weeks… So, Lizzie’s husband… Do I know him?”

“You do”, she grinned, “on the third of April 1954, she became Mrs George Davis.”

“No.” Steve’s jaw hit the ground. “She married little Georgie? Seriously?” Little Georgie… He lived just down the street, was a year or two under Steve and Buck, and an adorable fellow. “Buck always assumed that he was gay.”

“He wasn’t. Steve, you should have seen him, he was one hell of a guy, protective of Lizzie and the girls like you wouldn’t believe and such a wonderful father… A guy like George I might have married”, she smiled. “But that guy, who promised to make an honest woman out of me if we both were still single by 35 just had to dive an airplane into the ocean, didn't he?”

“Oh my”, Steve laughed, “I did promise that, didn’t I?” After he caught his breath again, he smiled over at her. “Well, I can’t help but notice that we are both over 35 and still single…”

“Steven Grant Rogers.” He braced himself for being cussed at for such a ridiculous comment, when she raised her eyebrow. “If you think that this counts as a proposal you are sorely mistaken.”

“Wait, what?” His eyes went big as he tried to comprehend what she just insinuated.

“I might be a badass lawyer, but I’m also a romantic woman”, she continued, keeping their eyes locked. “So, until you go down on one knee, don’t expect me to even consider it.”

Huh. “Alright…” He cleared his throat and took a deep breath before smiling at her again. “Duly noted.”

“Good. Then, how about you escort me back to the home? I should be back for lunch.”

“Of course, my lady.” Steve got up and held his arm out to her and together they walked back through the garden to the home’s dining room, where they were greeted by some curious looks.

“My, Rebecca, who’s your friend?”, one lady asked, looking Steve up and down, which only made him a tad uncomfortable.

“That’s Steve”, she explained as he helped her into her chair. “You could say I’ve known him my whole life.”

Steve came by almost every day. He was offered a small apartment in Brooklyn, only a few streets from where she lived; it was like back when they were young. With the difference, that them meeting went over a lot calmer and quieter; they mostly spend their days out in the park or in her room, talking, catching up.

“So, my dear”, Steve smiled, as they sat out on a bench on lovely Tuesday afternoon, enjoying the sun beaming down on them, “I have made a promise to you, a long time ago. And well, I am a man of my word.” He searched his pocket and got up, before kneeling in front of her and holding out a simple silver band with a red gem on top.

Rebecca was speechless, which was quite the unusual feeling for her, as Steve took her hand. “Rebecca Dorothy Barnes, would you do me the honours of becoming Mrs Rebecca Dorothy Rogers?”

“Steve… you punk are impossible”, she smiled and nodded happily. “Yes, I would love for you to become Steven Grant Barnes.”

With a laugh he put the perfectly fitting ring on her finger and nuzzled into an embrace.

“If Bucky could see us now”, she laughed, “he’d be so jealous!” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. “I always assumed he’d be the one Barnes you’d put a ring on.”

“Yeah…” Steve softly stroked her hand. “Wait.” He stilled suddenly, turning to her with wide eyes. “You… You knew?”

“Of course I do”, she chuckled, “I know my two idiots after all.” She looked up at him with an encouraging smile. “I don’t know when it happened that your friendship turned into more, and I also don’t know if you two ever were together, but know that I support you.”

“Thanks”, he sighed, clearly relieved.

“At least you're gonne be a Barnes, one way or another.”

“Well, first of all, I was under the impression I became an official Barnes the day Buck adopted me in... fourth grade I think it was. But more importantly, you are not some leftover, because I can't marry your brother. I could not wish for a more awesome, fierce and beautiful bride.”

“Aw, Stevie”, she cooed and, to keep from blushing too much, she cupped his face and put a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Besides, you'll look so much more lovely in a wedding dress than Buck ever could.”

The visits became a little unregularly, once Steve became an Avenger. And here Rebecca was, thinking her worrying about that boy had ended with the second world war, but no, he was back in uniform, fighting aliens and so many more unimaginable things.

“You are my fiancé”, she scolded him, “I do not appreciate you putting me through this torture again!”

“I know. It’s my job, though.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Softly, she stroked the bruise on his face.

“At least we won.” Steve offered her a shy smile and damnit, that just got her every time. “Fine. You are forgiven.”

“Phew…”, he grinned. “And I promise to do my best to always come back, alright?”

“You made that promise once before”, she reminded him of the last time they had seen each other, back in the forties.

“And I kept it, didn't I?” With a skew grin he tried to mask the pain of his memories, but Rebecca knew him well enough to see right through it.

“This time 'round I might not have 70 years to wait for you anymore”, she just shrugged and went to inspect his bruised and battered arm. Sure, some of this country's best doctors had taken care of Steve, but she was damned if she didn't properly look after her fiancé.

“Never say nev... OUCH!”, he cried out, when she got a little too close to a particularly bad bruise.

“Wuss”, she just scoffed. It did look extremely painful though. Whatever those Alien-robots had been doing to the Avengers, it was effective. As aware as she had been all these years, in this moment she knew it more so than ever before: she couldn't live through mourning him a second time. “Promise me something else”, she asked of him.

“Anything.”

“Promise me not to die again. I don't care if you come back again or not, but do not make me mourn you, not one more damn time. You got that?”

“Yes”, he nodded and squeezed her hands. “I promise.”

“Hey Becca.” Steve put his head through her door and smiled at his fiancée.

“Steve”, she sighed and waved him over. “Come on in.”

He stayed in the door. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Are you finally marrying me?” Not that they were ever going to be married. It was however one of the greatest joys of her last few years and months, to have their fun with a promise they had long outlived.

“Better.” He opened the door wider and pulled someone in after him. All she could see at first was long, brown hair; when it was brushed away, her heart skipped a beat. “Wha…”

“Hey Becca”, her brother smiled and after a push from Steve, he walked over to her bed.

“James? Is that…” With all the strength she had left, she pushed herself up, Bucky holding out a hand, helping her sit up.

“Yeah”, he smiled and immediately the siblings were in a tight hug. “I missed you.”

“I missed you more”, she cried, holding tight onto him out of fear he’d disappear again if she let go.

Eventually, they did break apart; his face just as tearstained as hers; from the corner of her eye she saw Steve wiping the tears off his cheek.

“I love you, James.”

“I love you more.” He took her hands in his and softly kissed them; until his eye fell on the ring on her finger. “Hold up.” He straightened himself out and looked from Becca to Steve, back to his sister. “Steve told me about Ruthie, about Lizzie, but he never mentioned you being married… Please tell me you didn’t marry Arthur Thompson.”

Yup, there was her big brother, protective of Becca and the guys courting her. “I did not”, she clarified and smiled at Steve. “So, you didn’t tell him. Interesting.”

“Didn't tell me what?”

Steve turned a few shades redder and cautiously walked over, sitting himself besides the siblings. “Well...”

Buck held his hand up to shush Steve and turned back to Becca, who couldn't suppress the wide grin any more. “Seriously?”

“Back in the day he promised to marry me if I were still single by 35. I was still single by 88, so, being a man of his word, he proposed to me.”

After a short moment of silence, James just burst out laughing. Until now, Becca hadn't even realized how much she'd missed that sound and was happier than she ever thought she could be that she got to hear it again. “You guys are impossible... Did you get married?”

“Unfortunately, Captain America over there was too busy saving the world”, she commented with a roll of her eyes.

“Of course...”, he scoffed before turning towards Steve. “You better do right by my sister or I'll go all Winter Soldier on your pretty behind.”

“What's Winter Soldier?”

The way both Steve and James' faces dropped at her question, left her to be sure that it was nothing good.

“Nothing you need to worry about”, Steve smiled. “But Buck is right. I made a promise that I'd like to keep. What do you say, doll?”

“That I am not the one to make an honest man of you”, she answered with a warm smile. Steve and Bucky always were the dream team. And now that fate had given them a second chance, it was not on her to stand in their way.

“You met somebody else?” With wide eyes, James turned back to Steve. “Are you cheating on my little sister?”

“Of course not!”, he defended himself, “I would never!”

“I should hope so”, Buck grumbled and turned back to Becca. He took her hands back in his and softly brushed his thumb over her fingers. “I know that punk over there didn't ask me, but you two would have my blessing.”

“Aw, sweetheart!”, Becca smiled and pulled him into a hug. “And you two have mine”, she whispered into his ear. By the way he jumped, it was probably not what he had expected to hear from her.

“What?”, he choked out with wide, unblinking eyes.

“You heard me.”

“Heard what?” A little confused, Steve looked between the two of them.

“Nothing”, Bucky was quick to answer, blushing just enough for Becca to know that the past eighty years didn't change too much.

She smiled up at Bucky. “Just hurry, I'd like to see you get it sorted out and I don't think I have too much time left.”

“No, please don't say that! I just came back!” The insinuation about Buck and Steve's relationship was forgotten, as the tears filled his eyes once more.

“It's only fair. I had to mourn you, too.”

“Yeah, but you're stronger than me and Stevie put together...”

“Now that's some bull”, she laughed and took Steve's hand in her free one. “You two are gonna be fine. You got each other and that got you through the war, it'll get you through living in the 21st century.” Looking from one of her boys to the other, both with tears in their eyes, she got emotional as well. “Stop crying, you two. You know that when you cry, I'll start as well.”

“Sorry”, Steve chuckled and wiped his eyes.

“I'm not”, Buck made clear. “I love my pain-in-the-ass little sister.”

“I should hope so”, Becca laughed and, with the boys' help, she lay back in her bed. All that excitement was just a little too much, and maybe a nap would do her good.

She wasn't afraid to close her eyes, either; her two boys barely left her side and whenever she woke up they sat next to her. With Steve's celebrity status, nobody made too many problems for them ignoring all rules of visitation hours. They even stopped going on missions and as little as she would want to keep either from doing their jobs, Becca was eternally grateful not having to worry about them.

It took about two weeks for the boys to get their heads out of their asses and finally admit to the other how they felt and walked into her room hand in hand.

“Please tell me this means what I hope it means”, she sighed.

“Yeah, it does”, Buck grinned, his cheeks flushing a bit and looking over at Steve who had the biggest heart eyes.

“Finally”, Becca smiled. “Now I can die in peace.”

#rebecca barnes #steve rogers #captain america #bucky barnes #winter soldier #stucky

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tremendousparadiseking-blog · 6 years ago

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UChicago Supplemental Essay Questions College Admissions

UChicago Supplemental Essay Questions

The University of Chicago has long been renowned for our provocative essay questions. We think of them as an opportunity for students to tell us about themselves, their tastes, and their ambitions. They can be approached with utter seriousness, complete fancy, or something in between.

Each year we email newly admitted and current College students and ask them for essay topics. We receive several hundred responses, many of which are eloquent, intriguing, or downright wacky.

As you can see from the attributions, the questions below were inspired by submissions from UChicago students and alumni.

2018-19 UChicago Supplement

Question 1 (Required)

How does the University of Chicago, as you know it now, satisfy your desire for a particular kind of learning, community, and future? Please address with some specificity your own wishes and how they relate to UChicago.

Question 2: Extended Essay (Required; Choose one)

Essay Option 1

In 2015, the city of Melbourne, Australia created a "tree-mail" service, in which all of the trees in the city received an email address so that residents could report any tree-related issues. As an unexpected result, people began to email their favorite trees sweet and occasionally humorous letters. Imagine this has been expanded to any object (tree or otherwise) in the world, and share with us the letter you’d send to your favorite.

-Inspired by Hannah Lu, Class of 2020

Essay Option 2

You’re on a voyage in the thirteenth century, sailing across the tempestuous seas. What if, suddenly, you fell off the edge of the Earth?

-Inspired by Chandani Latey, AB'93

Essay Option 3

The word floccinaucinihilipilification is the act or habit of describing or regarding something as unimportant or of having no value. It originated in the mid-18th century from the Latin words "floccus," "naucum," "nihilum," and "pilus"—all words meaning “of little use.” Coin https://www.the-essays.com/buy-essay-online using parts from any language you choose, tell us its meaning, and describe the plausible (if only to you) scenarios in which it would be most appropriately used.

-Inspired by Ben Zhang, Class of 2022

Essay Option 4

Lost your keys? Alohomora. Noisy roommate? Quietus. Feel the need to shatter windows for some reason? Finestra. Create your own spell, charm, jinx, or other means for magical mayhem. How is it enacted? Is there an incantation? Does it involve a potion or other magical object? If so, what's in it or what is it? What does it do?

-Inspired by Emma Sorkin, Class of 2021

Essay Option 5

Imagine you’ve struck a deal with the Dean of Admissions himself, Dean Nondorf. It goes as follows: you’re guaranteed admission to the University of Chicago regardless of any circumstances that arise. This bond is grounded on the condition that you’ll obtain a blank, 8.5 x 11 piece of paper, and draw, write, sketch, shade, stencil, paint etc., anything and everything you want on it; your only limitations will be the boundaries of both sides on the single page. Now the catch… your submission, for the rest of your life, will always be the first thing anyone you meet for the first time will see. Whether it’s at a job interview, a blind date, arrival at your first Humanities class, before you even say, “hey,” they’ll already have seen your page, and formulated that first impression. Show us your page. What’s on it, and why? If your piece is largely or exclusively visual, please make sure to share a creator's accompanying statement of at least 300 words, which we will happily allow to be on its own, separate page.

PS: This is a creative thought experiment, and selecting this essay prompt does not guarantee your admission to UChicago.

-Inspired by Amandeep Singh Ahluwalia, Class of 2022

Essay Option 6

In the spirit of adventurous inquiry, pose your own question or choose one of our past prompts. Be original, creative, thought provoking. Draw on your best qualities as a writer, thinker, visionary, social critic, sage, citizen of the world, or future citizen of the University of Chicago; take a little risk, and have fun.

Some classic questions from previous years…

Due to a series of clerical errors, there is exactly one typo (an extra letter, a removed letter, or an altered letter) in the name of every department at the University of Chicago. Oops! Describe your new intended major. Why are you interested in it and what courses or areas of focus within it might you want to explore? Potential options include Commuter Science, Bromance Languages and Literatures, Pundamentals: Issues and Texts, Ant History. a full list of unmodified majors ready for your editor’s eye is available here. —Inspired by Josh Kaufman, AB'18

Joan of Arkansas. Queen Elizabeth Cady Stanton. Babe Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Mash up a historical figure with a new time period, environment, location, or occupation, and tell us their story. —Inspired by Drew Donaldson, AB’16

Alice falls down the rabbit hole. Milo drives through the tollbooth. Dorothy is swept up in the tornado. Neo takes the red pill. Don’t tell us about another world you’ve imagined, heard about, or created. Rather, tell us about its portal. Sure, some people think of the University of Chicago as a portal to their future, but please choose another portal to write about. —Inspired by Raphael Hallerman, Class of 2020

What’s so odd about odd numbers? —Inspired by Mario Rosasco, AB’09

Vestigiality refers to genetically determined structures or attributes that have apparently lost most or all of their ancestral function, but have been retained during the process of evolution. In humans, for instance, the appendix is thought to be a vestigial structure. Describe something vestigial (real or imagined) and provide an explanation for its existence. —Inspired by Tiffany Kim, Class of 2020

In French, there is no difference between “conscience” and “consciousness.” In Japanese, there is a word that specifically refers to the splittable wooden chopsticks you get at restaurants. The German word “fremdschämen” encapsulates the feeling you get when you’re embarrassed on behalf of someone else. All of these require explanation in order to properly communicate their meaning, and are, to varying degrees, untranslatable. Choose a word, tell us what it means, and then explain why it cannot (or should not) be translated from its original language. —Inspired by Emily Driscoll, Class of 2018

Little pigs, French hens, a family of bears. Blind mice, musketeers, the Fates. Parts of an atom, laws of thought, a guideline for composition. Omne trium perfectum? Create your own group of threes, and describe why and how they fit together. —Inspired by Zilin Cui, Class of 2018

The mantis shrimp can perceive both polarized light and multispectral images; they have the most complex eyes in the animal kingdom. Human eyes have color receptors for three colors (red, green, and blue); the mantis shrimp has receptors for sixteen types of color, enabling them to see a spectrum far beyond the capacity of the human brain. Seriously, how cool is the mantis shrimp: mantisshrimp.uchicago.edu What might they be able to see that we cannot? What are we missing? —Inspired by Tess Moran, AB’16

How are apples and oranges supposed to be compared? Possible answers involve, but are not limited to, statistics, chemistry, physics, linguistics, and philosophy. —Inspired by Florence Chan, AB’15

The ball is in your court—a penny for your thoughts, but say it, don’t spray it. So long as you don’t bite off more than you can chew, beat around the bush, or cut corners, writing this essay should be a piece of cake. Create your own idiom, and tell us its origin—you know, the whole nine yards. PS: A picture is worth a thousand words. —Inspired by April Bell, AB'17, and Maya Shaked, Class of 2018 (It takes two to tango.)

“A man cannot be too careful in the choice of his enemies.” –Oscar Wilde. Othello and Iago. Dorothy and the Wicked Witch. Autobots and Decepticons. History and art are full of heroes and their enemies. Tell us about the relationship between you and your arch-nemesis (either real or imagined). —Inspired by Martin Krzywy, AB’16

Heisenberg claims that you cannot know both the position and momentum of an electron with total certainty. Choose two other concepts that cannot be known simultaneously and discuss the implications. (Do not consider yourself limited to the field of physics). —Inspired by Doran Bennett, AB’07

Susan Sontag, AB’51, wrote that “[s]ilence remains, inescapably, a form of speech.” Write about an issue or a situation when you remained silent, and explain how silence may speak in ways that you did or did not intend. The Aesthetics of Silence, 1967. —Anonymous Suggestion

“…I [was] eager to escape backward again, to be off to invent a past for the present.” —The Rose Rabbi by Daniel Stern Present: pres·ent 1. Something that is offered, presented, or given as a gift. Let’s stick with this definition. Unusual presents, accidental presents, metaphorical presents, re-gifted presents, etc.—pick any present you have ever received and invent a past for it. —Inspired by Jennifer Qin, AB’16

So where is Waldo, really? —Inspired by Robin Ye, AB’16

Find x. —Inspired by Benjamin Nuzzo, an admitted student from Eton College, UK

Dog and Cat. Coffee and Tea. Great Gatsby and Catcher in the Rye. Everyone knows there are two types of people in the world. What are they? —Inspired by an anonymous alumna, AB'06

How did you get caught? (Or not caught, as the case may be.) —Inspired by Kelly Kennedy, AB’10

Chicago author Nelson Algren said, “A writer does well if in his whole life he can tell the story of one street.” Chicagoans, but not just Chicagoans, have always found something instructive, and pleasing, and profound in the stories of their block, of Main Street, of Highway 61, of a farm lane, of the Celestial Highway. Tell us the story of a street, path, road—real or imagined or metaphorical. —Anonymous Suggestion

UChicago professor W. J. T. Mitchell entitled his 2005 book What Do Pictures Want? Describe a picture, and explore what it wants. —Inspired by Anna Andel

“Don’t play what’s there, play what’s not there.“—Miles Davis (1926–91) —Inspired by Jack Reeves

University of Chicago alumna and renowned author/critic Susan Sontag said, “The only interesting answers are those that destroy the questions.” We all have heard serious questions, absurd questions, and seriously absurd questions, some of which cannot be answered without obliterating the very question. Destroy a question with your answer. —Inspired by Aleksandra Ciric

“Mind that does not stick.” —Zen Master Shoitsu (1202–80)

Superstring theory has revolutionized speculation about the physical world by suggesting that strings play a pivotal role in the universe. Strings, however, always have explained or enriched our lives, from Theseus’s escape route from the Labyrinth, to kittens playing with balls of yarn, to the single hair that held the sword above Damocles, to the Old Norse tradition that one’s life is a thread woven into a tapestry of fate, to the beautiful sounds of the finely tuned string of a violin, to the children’s game of cat’s cradle, to the concept of stringing someone along. Use the power of string to explain the biggest or the smallest phenomenon. —Inspired by Adam Sobolweski

Have you ever walked through the aisles of a warehouse store like Costco or Sam’s Club and wondered who would buy a jar of mustard a foot and a half tall? We’ve bought it, but it didn’t stop us from wondering about other things, like absurd eating contests, impulse buys, excess, unimagined uses for mustard, storage, preservatives, notions of bigness…and dozens of other ideas both silly and serious. Write an essay somehow inspired by super-huge mustard. —Inspired by Katherine Gold

People often think of language as a connector, something that brings people together by helping them share experiences, feelings, ideas, etc. We, however, are interested in how language sets people apart. Start with the peculiarities of your own personal language—the voice you use when speaking most intimately to yourself, the vocabulary that spills out when you’re startled, or special phrases and gestures that no one else seems to use or even understand—and tell us how your language makes you unique. You may want to think about subtle riffs or idiosyncrasies based on cadence, rhythm, rhyme, or (mis)pronunciation. —Inspired by Kimberly Traube

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