#borne out of me and sam being evil. as per usual.

[vaperarmand]

[allthingsfuckd]

soft spot | Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

summary: Bucky, the diner owner pining for the reader, a regular at the diner and best friend, for years.

a/n: i wanted to post a Peter Parker fic but i had writer's block until i came to this idea. it's based on a few of my fav Luke and Lorelai moments from Gilmore Girls combined into this one fic. i hope you enjoy! as usual, feedback is very much appreciated and my requests are open. (you don't need to watch Gilmore Girls to understand it)

warning(s): fluff, teen pregnancy, absent father, pining.

“Coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee,” you repeated, your chest pressed against the counter, an evil smile on your face. He turned to face you and placed his hands on the counter, the chanting stopped. You purse your lips trying to contain your smile.

“You know it ruins your body, slowly corrodes your insides, and makes you die really really young, right?” he says squinting at you as he makes hand gestures.

“That’s the intention,” you say smiling up at him showing your teeth. You both stayed like that for a few seconds until he turned around, grabbed a mug, and the kettle from the coffee machine. Still squinting at you, he poured the coffee in the mug and slid it over the counter to you.

“I really hope it’s soon,” he grumbles, throwing the kitchen towel on his shoulders, and walks (or stomps) back to the kitchen. You sat there, coffee in your hands, smiling as you took a sip.

The door rings open and you hear a familiar voice. “Did you get one for me?” you turned in your bar stool to look at the figure that walked up to you. The beautiful girl who you delightfully brought into the world almost 16 years ago, Leah.

You shook your head, fake-pouting. A grumble came from the teen, something you could very much relate to; caffeine deficiency. “I tried, I tried but Bucky’s in his element this morning,” you shrugged your shoulders, stretching to the left to see if he was still in the kitchen.

“I’m gonna get one myself. He likes me,” she turned to face the kitchen, chanting his name as you did earlier. You hear them arguing as you enjoyed the drink in your hand. It was white noise to you — the arguing, especially in Bucky’s diner. With him being the crabby man you’ve always known him to be, it was basically daily routine.

“You were right, he is grumpy this morning,” she said when he walked away again, this time to the back. “Wonder what happened,” she said, shrugging as she took a sip of her coffee.

People in the town have always talked about how similar you both were; you and Leah. Sometimes it did feel like you were looking in the mirror and reliving your teen years as she told you stories about her day and it would scare the fuck out of you.

“Hey, so birthday planning. Let’s go,” she patted your forearm, waking you from your thoughts, excited to turn 16. You sat up and giggled, feeling excitement running up your spine.

“Okay, so we’re gonna have it at home this year,” she nods. “After last year’s event, I vowed to never again go to a Ms. Patty party,” you both shudder, remembering the massive drunken embarrassment you had to go through at your 15-year-old’s birthday party. “Before that, we’re going somewhere special, a surprise if you may. Then we’re going shopping, which thank god your birthday is the end of the month. Cause how could we have lux on your birthday without a paycheck. We’ve got a date with your dad, says he wants to finally actually give you your gift in person this year? And a massive birthday cake with your face on it by the one and only Sookie, as per tradition,” you yap, fast-paced.

“Wait, we’re meeting dad?” she asks, cutting you off. You nodded fast, feeling the caffeine kick in. She smiled, looking down at her mug. And that’s when you felt beat up. When it came to Christopher, it always put a smile on her face. Maybe they were right. You were alike. So easily manipulated by the one man in both of your lives, who is only always there when time and circumstances met his convenience. Something naivete and youth made Leah fail to realize.

“Okay, kiddo. We’ll discuss birthday matters this evening, it’s almost 8,” you picked up her bag, gravity pulling your hand down soon after. “Woah, wormie, what are you carrying? Bricks?” you teased.

“You never know how much reading I can get done with all the waiting we do in school,” she whined after downing her coffee. She kissed your cheek and left the diner.

“God, that kid is something special,” you hear Bucky say as you both watched her walk to the school right opposite the diner. You turned around looking down at your mug, Bucky noticing a frown on your face. “What’s wrong?” he asks, bending down to look at your face.

You looked up, smiling a little. “It���s Leah’s dad,” you scrunched your nose. You never talked about Chris with anyone in the town except with Sookie and Bucky, the name and subject a sensitive topic to you. Never saying his name as if terrified some sort of evil would be summoned. Your relationship with him was beyond complex. You were best friends before anything, you-me-against-the-world (or against parents and the rich community you were brought up in), you knew him like the back of your hand. You still see him as such but since you found out you were pregnant, it all took a different turn and it wasn’t something you felt was right for either of you.

“He called again,” Bucky’s voice annoyed, rolling his eyes. He’d met him once and it was the most awkward, testosterone-filled conversation you’d ever witness. You snickered, knowing how he, as much as you, despised talking about him. “Hey,” he touches your forearm with his leather-gloved forefinger. You looked up at him. “If anything, you come to me,” you half-smiled.

Everyone in this small town knew about the mother-daughter dynamic you and Leah had. Hearing how she turned out great with just you raising her was something you heard very often, something you wished you felt through every fiber of your being. But you didn’t. And Bucky knew you struggled with that, trying his best to remind you every time you doubted. More often than not, she reminded you a lot more of Bucky than Chris, since she grew up knowing Bucky more than her dad.

“Thanks, old man,” you said, snickering behind your mug. He backed away from the counter, his grumpy face showing again. His eyebrows furrowed and his cheekbones prominent. He hated it when you called him that. He may be over a hundred years old but technically he was your age, he would remind you. “There he is!” you cheered, laughing at his frowned face.

“You have a problem,” Bucky said, taking the mug from your hand, and you slid the bill across the table. Still maintaining your gazes, seeing a small smile starting to form on his lips.

You were known by the whole town to be completely oblivious, seemingly being the only one who doesn’t know how Bucky has been pining for you for years. Even from Mars, the love he held for you in his heart could be seen. He tried several times to ask you out on a date, getting closer and closer each time he would try but something always had to happen right at the time he wanted to spit the words out of his mouth. A coward, as Sam, another regular at the diner, would call him when he realized he'd been staring at her.

You did, however, think about dating him once after having a moment with him in the diner. It was late, and you wanted coffee after a bad date. Nearly kissing until Kirk came into the diner to get his emergency late-night burger. You brought it to Leah’s attention, but to that she immediately declined, saying it might ruin the best coffee in town for the both of you.

Saturday rolled around; Leah’s birthday. You woke her up at 3 a.m., another annual essential where you would tell her the infamous story of the day she was born.

“What do you think of your life thus far, my dear?” you brushed her hair as your lied down next to her.

“I think it’s great,” she yawned.

“Any complaints?” you asked, and she shook her head. “I think you’re a great cool kid and the best friend a girl could have,” you said to her lovingly.

“Back at ya,” she answered.

“And it’s so hard to believe that many moons ago I was lying in exactly this same position,” you looked up at the ceiling, flashbacks playing in your head.

“Oh boy, here we go,” Leah said. You shushed her and continued the story.

When you walked into the diner, you were greeted by Bucky at the front door. You frowned at him, being too close to you, your hands hovered over his chest. He opened an arm to gesture you to a table by the window on your right. When you looked, your jaw dropped. He decorated the table. He laid a beautiful lace tablecloth, with a vase filled with flowers in the middle and balloons next to one of the chairs and Leah’s favorite; a rainbow cake, with a lot of frosting.

“Bucky, what is this? This isn’t you. And flowers?” you looked at him, eyes in disbelief. He shrugged. “This is amazing,” you touched the table cloth, mouth agape. “Thank you, Bucky,” you hugged him, his face red to which you were too busy to see.

He walked away, knowing your order before you could tell him. The Y/N Special he printed in the new menu. Leah came into the diner, you sat up and smiled as you waited for her reaction. “What is all this?” her jaw dropped as well.

“It’s all Bucky,” you shook your head, as she caressed the lace tablecloth. “Where he got this tablecloth? No idea!” you leaned in, whispering loudly.

“Bucky, you big ole softy,” she said to Bucky who came with your regular. He blushed when she gave him a hug, quiet as he walked back behind the counter. Your eyes followed him, still surprised by his adorable gesture.

“Hey, remember what I said about dating Bucky?” you asked her, still looking at Bucky who was taking orders. She hummed as she gobbled down her food. “Do you think it’ll work out if we did?” you asked again.

“Honestly, I think it will,” she said, cheeks stuffed with food. “Especially after this,” she gestured to the decorations. “But yeah, I do,” she said after swallowing her food, following your gaze to look at him.

It was the first time she’d ever okayed a man in your life other than Chris. You both loved Bucky especially after what he’s been through. The grumpy demeanor he displays justified.

Lane, Leah’s best friend walked into the diner, squealing as she hugged and wished her. You stood up with your order and walked to the counter to allow them to chat.

“Hey, Buck,” you said, seeing him clean his toaster. He hummed, his back still facing you. “With your expertise displayed on the very lovely table there, could you help Sookie out with decorating my place while Leah and I frolic about town?” you asked, chewing on your waffles.

“Yeah, sure anything for my best customers,” he said as he grunted, fixing the toaster.

“Why don’t you use your tools?” you asked, pointing at the toaster with your knife. Stopping what he did, he turned to shoot a glare at you.

“My toolbox is sitting in your lovely home collecting dust because you could not and will not bother to give it back to me,” he complained. You snickered knowingly since you purposely brought up his toolbox.

“Well, it’s the only thing in the house that warns burglars that there could possibly be a man in the house,” you said melodramatically as you enjoyed your food. He grabbed the knife and fork out of your hand, your hands up in the air and mouth open. You placed your hands on your lap and sighed.

“Fine, you can have John back,” you said. His eyebrows crossed in confusion and frustration. You had a track record of being stubborn and playful. Something everyone who knew you grew to normalise.

“Not every non-living thing needs to have a name,” he said, putting the utensils back on your plate.

“Yes they do. I could tell visitors that John is in the living room sitting on the floor,” and you continued to yap Bucky’s ears off until you left to bring Leah on her birthday adventure. Reminding him that you left the decorations by the couch at home and he could use the key hidden under the turtle statue.

It was almost 1 a.m., Bucky heard a loud voice from outside, he dragged his feet to the window and opened it, sticking half his body out. Flinching when he saw a stone coming in his direction. “What the hell are you doing?” he shouted at you in your pjs, holding a pillow under your arm. He was wearing short-sleeved t-shirt, something you barely saw him wear.

“I’m homeless! I’ve got nowhere to go,” you shouted back. You heard a window open at the next building and turned to face it. An old man appeared out of the window.

“Hey, would you shut up? It’s late!” the old man with his thick Boston accent shouted at you. You looked at him and then at Bucky then back at him and burst out laughing. “Would you please get her the hell outta here?” the man said to Bucky and went back inside. He went down to get you, groaning as he walked down finding you, still in a fit of laughter.

“The resemblance? Uncanny!” you said, still laughing as he grabbed your arm and pulled you into the diner.

You helped Bucky set up the mattress after looking around his apartment and teasing him for things he owned. Being friends with him for years, you’d never been in his “home” above the diner before.

“What made you homeless tonight?” Bucky asks as you fixed the bedsheet together.

“Everyone else passed out drunk, even Chris,” you said. Shocked that you brought up his name, he fiddled with his fingers as he sat by his dining table. “I’m still kinda drunk. That name slipped out of my mouth,” you said, laughing nervously, sitting next to him.

“What did he do this time?” he asked looking up from his hands.

“Surprisingly, he was nice. He was a dad for once but he hasn’t left so we’ll see what happens,” you sighed. Bucky knew the reason for your uncertainty with raising Leah was because of Chris. The seed of doubt sprouted after years of Chris reminding you that you couldn’t do it alone which made Bucky’s blood boil.

“At least she’s not pregnant yet,” you said, running your hands against the wooden dining table.

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that,” he said. “You were 16?” he asked.

“15 and a half,” you pointed out. “Ruined my 16th birthday, my mother said. What a disappointment it must have been for my parents to have me,” you looked at him.

“Can’t imagine anyone seeing you as a disappointment,” he shook his head and you sighed.

“You know, Buck. Seeing what you do for Leah, I bet you’ll make a great dad one day,” you mention, examining his face. His eyes looked sleepy.

“You make a great mom. This whole town can vouch for that fact. For how young you were when you had her, 15 and a half? Every parent makes mistakes but you make the mistakes seem like fun,” you chuckled. “You were never alone in raising her. The town has played a part in raising her with you much more than Chris ever did so I don’t know what the fuck he’s talkin' about,” he says, a lump formed in your throat.

“Yeah, it’s just the daughter part I, uh, I don’t have down yet,” Bucky exhaled through his nose. You thought about a recent fight you had with Leah about the boy she’d been dating. Something you brought up as a problem because you were terrified of possible outcomes. But you knew he was a great boy, Dean. Sweet, charming and a gentleman.

“You looked great tonight,” you placed your hand on his, you felt the cold metal against your skin. You’d never really seen his metal arm, always hidden under the sleeve of his leather jacket and gloves. His signature look, even in the summer. You stroked his metal hand and even though he couldn’t physically feel your touch, he felt goosebumps form on his skin. Physical touch was never a part of your friendship.

He smirked, raising his brow and tilting his head making you roll your eyes. “I don’t mean you don’t look great all the time, you do, and,” you groaned. “Don’t be cocky now,” you clicked your tongue, laughing, still smirking at you.

“You looked great too,” his voice cracked, coughing to clear his throat. “y/n,” he called your name, his voice lower and deeper.

“Yeah?” you whispered. His eyes softer than you were used to, finally seeing his blue eyes.

“Would you want to go on a date with me sometime?” he asked, eyes looking at your lips then back to your eyes. He felt his palm get sweaty, heart thumped loudly in his chest he swore you could hear it. He’d always have the words play in his head but he never thought the moment would ever come.

You felt your cheeks burn, you never thought he’d ever ask you. He studied your face to predict what you were gonna say, cringing a little expecting a bad answer or a laugh.

“I would love to, Buck,” you bit your bottom lip. He let out the breath he held, smiling as he shifted in his seat. After years of pining, he finally got to take his favorite girl on a date.

[sakuwriteshere]

The Apple Pie in My Life - Chapter 8

Summary: What happened between two best friends when someone messes with their lives? Can the past changes the future or can the future changes the past?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Female!Reader, OC Abbigail, OC James, OC Alex, OC Purson, Castiel

Words count: 4160

Warnings: Slight angst, cursed words (?)

A/N: As per usual, this is unbetated and I’m sorry for any grammar mistakes or error spelling. Comments are loved!

Chapter 8: The hunt begins

One week later, the five of you had fallen in a perfect routine. You shared a room with the twins, while Sam and Dean shared the one next to yours. As promised, you and Dean were civils to each other, you didn’t talk a lot but at least Sam and the kids weren’t the messengers between the both of you anymore.

You entered your room after a short stop at the store, bringing some food. You walked silently as you noticed James sleeping in one of the beds, Abby sitting next to him, her back resting against the headboard, a book laying on her lap.

“Wanna eat something?” You whispered, not wanting to disturb the sleeping boy. God you knew he needed some rest, you all did.

Abbigail nodded and you handed her a chocolate donut before taking one for yourself and sat on the other bed.

“You’re really close, right?” You asked after you’ve watched them for a moment.

Abbigail closed her book and swallowed what she had in her mouth. Her head turned in her brother’s direction for a second before she focused her eyes on you.

“He’s my little brother. I have to take care of him.” She shrugged, matter of factly.

“You’re twins.” You chuckled, rubbing your hands together to get rid of the sugar on it.

“I was born first.” She grinned but it disappeared quickly.

“I’m sure they’re fine.” You tried to reassure her, you saw the distress on her face, she was thinking about her parents for sure.

Abbigail nodded. “Yeah, I know they are.” She mumbled before looking at you again. “For now.”

You didn’t know why but you felt a strange feeling coursing through your body. You cleared your throat and picked the lore book you were reading earlier.

“You seem pretty close to your parents. How are they?” You asked, hoping she would smile more as she spoke of them.

“They’re the best.” She said, you knew she meant it. Those kids really loved their parents. You couldn’t understand why, though.

You loved your parents as well, because well...they were your parents, you didn’t have a choice, but you were also angry at them for pushing you in this kind of life. However, James and Abby, they didn’t seem to mind it. What kind of parents, in their right mind, would push their kids into danger?

“Stop it.” You heard Abby’s soft voice. Your head snapped in her direction and you saw a sad smile on her face.

“I know what you’re thinking and believe me when I say it’s not like that.” She said as she stood up carefully and pulled the covers on James’ body.

“They didn’t have a choice.” She added as she sat next to you, her hands clasped together on her lap.

“Our family is… it’s complicated. We’re not really hunting monsters anymore, but the monsters are still after us. I think that’s what you get for having parents as goddamn hunters.” She chuckled.

You grabbed her hands and squeezed gently, giving her an encouraging smile.

“I know they didn’t want this kind of life for us. They wanted us to be innocents and unaware of the ugly truth as long as possible, but they also realized quickly that James and I were the perfect targets. They didn’t have a choice and told us the truth when we were old enough to understand it.”

“That must have been scary.” You told her, remembering the day your parents had the same speech with you. You remembered that day perfectly, when they told you to be scared of what could hide in the dark. As a kid, you had nightmares about monsters being real and what they could do to you.

“Not really.” Abby’s answer surprised you.

“Do you fear lions or sharks? ” She asked you, you didn’t understand the sudden change of topic.

“Not really. I wouldn’t be brave if I was standing in front of one but I don’t fear them.”

Abby nodded knowingly. “I feel the same about monsters. Mom and Dad told us we need to be wary of them but not being scared. We’re not hunting them but we know what to do if we’re facing one of them. See what I mean?”

You nodded, pondering on the thought. You had to admit it was a clever move. At least those kids weren’t raised in constant fear. Though, it was a bit too easy to compare a wild animal with a monster. The dangers weren’t the same, animals weren’t purely evil contrary to monsters. You broke from your thoughts when you felt her hands trembling. You called her name softly and heard a strangle sob.

“I don’t know what to do.” She admitted between more sobs.

“Hey, hey, hey. Come here.” You said in a soothing voice as you let go of her hands and wrapped your arms around her fragile frame.

“I miss them so much. It’s not the same here.” She cried, her face pressed against your chest, one of her hands fisting your shirt.

“I know sweety.” You hugged her strongly. You didn’t know why but you had this sudden huge need to reassure her. You rested your chin on the top of her head while your hand stroked her back gently and started to rock the both of you back and forth.

“I’m not strong enough. I need them.” She cried more, and you’ve never felt so helpless in your life. You wanted to reassure her. You needed to make sure the both of them were safe.

“We’ll find them.” You promised as you kissed the top of her head.

*** You entered the boys’ room a few moments later, once Abbigail fell asleep, the poor girl was exhausted after crying. You were more determined than ever after such a heart breaking scene.

“Where’s your brother?” You asked Dean when you noticed he was alone in his room.

Dean didn’t even spare a glance at you and simply pointed at the bathroom door as he kept his eyes on the book in front of him. Soon the bathroom door opened and Sam came out, smiling softly as a way to acknowledge your presence.

“We need to find this demon.” You told the boys as Sam sat in front of his laptop on the table.

“Wow thanks for the advice. Why didn’t I think of it before?” Dean snickered humorlessly.

You glared at him and put your fists on your hips, he was so getting on your nerves.

“Don’t start you two.” Sam said before you had the time to speak.

You rolled your eyes and huffed, your arms falling against your sides as you walked towards Sam, showing Dean your back. You read on the screen the information Sam was working on, something about some demon, kings and guardians of Hell apparently, your eyes falling on a familiar name quickly before Sam scrolled the text down.

“Wait!” You grabbed Sam’s arm and stopped him.

“Purson?” You read out loud.

“According to the kids, he’s the demon we’re looking for but I can’t find anything about him.” Sam explained, an edge in his voice as he felt useless, he’s been searching for this demon for a week but couldn’t find a lot about him.

“We’re not even sure he really exists.” Dean said from his bed.

“Oh he exists alright.” You murmured between clenched teeth.

“Y/N?” Sam called your name as you straighten your back.

“That’s the name of the demon who took me.” You told him out of the blue, you were already thinking deeply about the fact that your case and the kids’ were the same. “Shit! He was talking about Abby and James!” You thought out loud, when you remembered he had asked you about kids.

“Wait. What?” Dean stood up from his bed in one jump, one of his hands grabbing your wrist and forcing you to turn around. “And you kept this information from us because...?”

You shrugged him off, your brain working at full speed, trying to put two and two together.

“I forgot about him. Didn’t think both cases were linked.” You explained absentmindedly, waving your hand around as a matter of fact.

“Well, good job with that.” Dean mocked angrily.

You rolled your eyes back again, having enough of his temper. “You’re one to talk. You forgot to mention it to me too.”

“Calm down both of you.” Sam came between you two, preventing any fight.

“Why me? I didn’t know about the kids before this incident. Why did he think I would know anything about them? And why does Alex help him?” You thought out loud, too many questions whirling in your head.

“Alex? You’re still with him?” Dean scoffed when he heard the name.

“I’ve never been with him.” You replied back, looking at Dean as if he was crazy.

“Wait, who’s Alex?” Sam asked, totally lost in the argument.

“Y/N’s boyfriend in highschool.” Dean answered Sam, a strange taste in the back of his throat.

“For the love of God!” You sighed loudly. “He was not my boyfriend! I barely knew him!”

Dean muttered something you couldn’t get. “What?” You asked him to say it again.

“Nothing.” Dean shrugged his shoulders, he tried his hardest to remain civil.

Sam was deeply thinking about everything. He had more information than you two, he had kept them from you because the twins had asked him to. Suddenly it hit him.

“Is there any chance that what you’re talking about was when we were at Truman’s High?” He asked and you and Dean froze at the name.

“Were you going to attend some kind of a party? A prom maybe?” He asked once more, and judging by the way you and Dean acted, Sam knew he was onto something.

“This is not your business!” Dean and you told Sam angrily, you glanced at each other and looked quickly at opposite sides. Sam pondered for a long minute before heading to the door.

“Where the hell are you going?” Dean asked his brother.

“I need to check something. I’ll be right back.” Sam said, opening the door. He stopped in his tracks, turned around and pointed a finger at both of you. “Behave.” He warned you before leaving.

Dean and you looked at each other, then you tensed and chose opposite sides, staying away from each other as far as possible. The mention of that particular night, opening deep, painful wounds for the both of you.

*** Sam entered the room you shared with the twins. He shook Abby’s body gently, not wanting to scare her. Once her eyes started to flutter open, he did the same with James. The young boy rubbed the back of his hand over his sleepy eyes and yawned loudly.

“Uncle Sammy? What’s wrong?” James asked once he made sure it was only the three of them inside the room.

Sam grabbed a chair from the corner of the room and put it in front of the beds.

“I don’t have the time to explain why but I need you to tell me exactly what happened during that prom night.” Sam told them, sitting on the chair.

Both kids sat on the edge of their bed, blinking the sleepiness from their eyes.

“What? Why?” Abbigail asked.

Sam shook his head hurriedly. “Just answer the question, please.”

The urgency in his voice was enough for them to oblige.

“There’s nothing special, really.” James shrugged, then looked at his sister who shrugged as well.

“Grandpa left you and Dad while he went to hunt,” James started to tell as their father did when they were young. Sam shifted in his seat, hearing his own dad being called grandpa was rather disturbing.

“Mom was there too, our grand-parents leaving her for the rest of the year so she could finish it normally. Then you were leaving and Dad couldn’t bear seeing Mom sad so he promised her he would go with her at the prom.”

Sam listened carefully, nodding from time to time when he remembered a few things from that time. He vaguely remembered how happy Dean was when John accepted to lend him the Impala for that night.

“Then they went and danced the whole night. Dad said that when he left her in her room that night he realized he was in love with Mom. Then he left because Grandpa needed him for a job.” Abby finished the story.

“Did something happen that night? Did they kiss or said something about their feelings maybe?” Sam asked them as he tried to spot the differences between the story told and his own past.

The twins shook their heads no at the same time.

“Nothing changed after that night. They ended together many years later, after Dad came back from…” James trailed off.

“From Hell.” Sam finished for him. The fact that Dean came back from Hell a few months ago was certainly not a coincidence. “I think I know what Purson’s trying to do.” Sam said as he stood up on his feet. “We need to tell them the truth about you.”

“We can’t! That’s too dangerous!” The twins jumped from their bed at the same time and Sam finally understood how people felt when Dean and he spoke as one. This was kind of disturbing.

“Uncle Sammy, what if we say something you should not know and change our past?” James asked, worried.

“I think it’s already too late to fear the consequences.” Sam whispered.

The sound of glass breaking resonated from the other room and the three of them exited their room to see Dean slamming the door as he walked towards his car with angry steps. The door opened again and you got out, your fists clenched tightly.

“Running away again instead of facing me, huh? You’re such a coward, Winchester!” You yelled at him.

Dean stopped in his tracks and turned around. “What did you say?” A dark glint in his eyes and his voice menacing.

“You heard me perfectly.” You lifted your head so you could look at him right in the eyes. You weren’t backing away.

“Oh sweetheart,” He chuckled darkly, the nickname not friendly by no means. He came closer to you, stopping only a few inches away from you and stared you down. “I’m a lot of things but I certainly am not a coward.” He said, his voice low and full of hate, thanks to the proximity you could see how hard his jaws were clenched.

“Don’t sweetheart me, you lost that right a long time ago.” You said with the same tone he just used seconds ago.

“Dean. Y/N.” Sam tried to interfere.

“Stay out of it!” You both shouted at Sam, still staring at each other. It was a battle, the first one who would look away was the loser.

“You’re right you’re far worse than a coward. You’re a liar, always sweetalking people to ruin their lives the next second.”

“Oh? Because now, I’ve ruined your life? You know what…” Dean said but stopped when he noticed movements from the corner of his eye.

His eyes fell on the kids, and more particularly on their teary eyes. The twins’ entwined hands shaking subtly, their other free hand fisting into Sam’s shirt, the fear written all over their faces. Seeing this, Dean calmed down slightly. He perfectly knew how the kids felt, he was just like them when he was around their age and witnessed a fight between his Dad and Sam. Then Dean looked at you again, the rage still burning into your eyes.

“I have enough of this shit.” He spat, then took a step back and headed for his car once again.

“Dean, come on!” Sam called, defeated.

“Good riddance.” You muttered as you turned around and walked toward your room.

“Dean!” The twins called him as well, Abby taking a step in his direction.

Dean ignored them, circling in front of his car, the keys jiggling as he took them out from his pocket.

“Dean!” James tried again, coming closer to his sister and holding her hand. He hated seeing her helpless.

The car door squeaked as he opened it, still ignoring their pleas. He needed to get out of here, to clear his mind and maybe cool down.

“Dad, please!” Abbigail begged, her voice breaking.

Time had stopped at the moment, everyone frozen in their place. You were standing on the doorstep, your eyes wide opened, not believing what you heard. You turned around so slowly, afraid you would trip, so you could see what was going on with the others.

Sam and James had their backs straightened, unmoving, you wondered if they stopped breathing. In front of them was Abbigail who had fallen on her knees at some point, looking at Dean desperately, as if she was afraid that he would disappear if she blinked. You knew she was crying as you heard the sniffling sounds coming from her.

And then, there was Dean. He was perfectly still. One leg inside the car, one hand pressed on the rooftop, his lips parted slightly as he couldn’t stare away from Abbigail. This couldn’t be true. The poor girl might have a slip of the tongue.

“Dad please, I need you.” Despite how broken her voice was as she choked on the words, Dean and you heard her perfectly, ringing just like a bell. Confirming what you’ve already heard a few seconds before.

You knew that Dean was a womanizer but never would you have thought he had kids, and as old as they were, nonetheless. You didn’t register James walking towards you, your mind too focused on Abby’s revelation to notice any movement.

However, you felt all the air leaving your lungs when you heard his shaky voice next to you.

“I need you too, Mom.”

TAPiML tags:  @fandomoverdose666​​​ , @eternaleviee , @slytherinrising​​​ , @vicmc624​​​ , @music-is-all-i-need​​​ , 

[zmediaoutlet]

Ahhh, I just saw your post about tarnishing the righteousness and it has me thinking, if all those interactions are after Dean goes to Hell? Because Meg 2.0 is, and so is Abaddon. Then it wouldn't be because he's the righteous man anymore, but perhaps that he is the righteous man fallen? (I also like the taste of Sam option too, quite a lot, Z). You make meta sound so stylistically story-like. Keep on keeping on! 👊

ah – this is re: this post (from two weeks ago; never let it be said I answer questions at all punctually), with these tags: 

#what is the deal with demons and sexual assault and dean  #i’m remembering some tearful line  #‘what is it about me?’  #what is it really  #is it that they all see what sam loves and want to–what? break it?  #or the element of righteousness in him that attracts and then makes them want to destroy it   #…that’s probably overthinking  #but still  #it’s such a weirdly constant element in the show

Setting aside that it probably is overthinking:

The crossroads demon all the way back in Crossroads Blues had this vibe, too. Soft & seductive is the crossroads way, of course, but that’s actually where we’re introduced to the concept of crossroads deals being sealed with a kiss–and it’s performed on Dean, with this specific line: I usually like to be warned before I’m violated with demon tongue. A little prophetic, there.

Meg 1.0 did it too, per a bud’s reminder, in Shadow. She macked on Sam, but she sat in Dean’s lap too, straddled him and got up in his business and was just as condescending as she could be.

But like–we get Azazel being condescendingly chummy with Sam. With Dean he leans in all close and literally! sniffs! him!, inches from his skin, arched in against Dean’s body. (Dean whump fans: that is a scene to rewatch until your VHS gets worn out. hooboy.) Abaddon wants to get all up in Dean’s pretty meatsuit; does she even talk to Sam? [ETA: oh yeah, she says that her Josie body is sexier than Sam. hdu, Abaddon.) Meg 2.0 kisses Dean in that gifset, for absolutely zero goddamn reason. Why? What is the deal? 

The meta answer, of course, has something to do with Jensen. The way he exists on camera is… worryingly vulnerable, especially in earlier years, and he’s a very convenient and beautiful locus of vileness. Filmed often almost like a traditional female pulp character–think of that pan-up over his ass, and that was in the 4th episode ever, and it hasn’t really changed all that much since then. There’s a lot of attention paid to his big pretty eyes and how easy they go wet–to the sprawl of him, and his body. It’s almost creepy sometimes, honestly. Tied to the chair with his legs spread wide, again, and it’s erotic, but in a dangerously grimy way. How he reacts is interesting too–the sexual comments start and he half-smirks before his eyes and face and mouth all go defensively flat. You can’t get me with that, Dean seems to be thinking–except they can. (That this is such a constant thing, filmically speaking, sends me into paroxysms at least four times a year.)

If we take the text purely as text, however: I seriously love the ‘righteous man’ thing as a way to think about it. All these bad things fluttering up like evil moths to a pretty, pretty light. It’s nothing Dean did, ever (not that he would deserve it even if he had)–it’s literally built into the fabric of what he is. The Righteous Man, who will spill blood in hell. It’s a destiny that’s barreling toward him from long before he was born, and he can’t get away from it even after he got dragged out. –and he’s still Good, is the thing. He did get out, before he got changed. Maybe they’re jealous; maybe they just want to stain him. Maybe they want to remind him of everything that happened to him in the pit. Who knows. But man, is it grody that they do.

[analyzingdestiel]

Destiel Review of 7x17: The Born-Again Identity

________________________________

SCENE 1

________________________________

DEAN So, Daphne – is that, uh, your wife?

EMMANUEL/CASTIEL She found me and cared for me.

DEAN Meaning?

EMMANUEL/CASTIEL Oh, it's a...strange story. You may not like it.

DEAN Believe me, I will.

________________________________

Castiel having a wife as Emmanuel isn't proof against Destiel because he doesn't remember who he truly is. Plus, I will mention again that polygamy is a thing, though that's not relevant here because this is Castiel without his memories. In a sense, it isn't entirely Castiel. This Castiel doesn't remember Dean, meaning he wouldn't have the feelings that developed, knowing Dean.

Dean's questioning it seems to be related to finding out how it happened, how much Castiel remembers, etc. I don't feel Dean is jealous per say though he does seem to be exhibiting discomfort over the idea. Though this could be discomfort over the situation in general.

________________________________ 

SCENE 2

DEAN Spiritual? Okay. Someone did this to him.

EMMANUEL/CASTIEL You're angry.

DEAN Well, yeah. Dude broke my brother's head.

EMMANUEL/CASTIEL He betrayed you, this dude. He was your friend?

DEAN Yeah, well, he's gone.

EMMANUEL/CASTIEL Did you kill him? I sense that you kill a lot of people. Even without his memories, without knowing his full capabilities, Castiel is able to sense things. He can feel Dean's vibrations. These are things we've been aware of for quite some time but it just further proves it. He can sense what Dean feels.

DEAN Honestly, I-I-I don't know if he is dead. I just know that this... whole thing couldn't be messier. You know, I used to be able to just shake this stuff off. You know, whatever it was. It might take me some time, but... I always could. What Cas did... I just can't – I don't know why.

________________________________

This confession says a lot. Dean is saying that he's usually able to "shake it off" when people betray him. That he is usually able to get over it, "water under the bridge" sort of thing. But with Castiel, he isn't able to. I find this confession very interesting. Because of what Castiel meant to him, who he was for him, Dean is having a difficult time forgiving him. Again, it shows us how much Castiel meant to Dean. How much being able to trust Castiel meant to Dean, and how hurt he is that he was betrayed. How much pain he's in mirrors how much Castiel meant to him. If he hadn't cared as much as he did, he wouldn't be in as much pain over the betrayal.

________________________________

EMMANUEL/CASTIEL Well, it doesn't matter why.

DEAN Of course it matters.

EMMANUEL/CASTIEL No. You're not a machine, Dean. You're human. Your friend's name was Cas? That's an odd name.

________________________________

Castiel pointing out to Dean that he's human and not a machine I feel is important for Dean to hear. He often spends his time trying to hide his emotions, but Castiel is telling him that it's alright to feel. This also shows us how Castiel views things and I feel Dean is aware that Castiel is ultimately, not a bad guy. I think because Dean was betrayed that he may deny it or have a harder time seeing it but that a small part of him does realize that Castiel is not evil or bad and that he did have Dean's best interest at heart when he decided to work with Crowley.

I also feel it's important that, despite it all, Dean still refers to Castiel as "Cas", which shows there's still a closeness there. And I feel Castiel pointing that out was deliberate on the writers' end.

________________________________ 

SCENE 3

DEAN Help, huh? You mean see if you can't turn harmless little Cas out there into an angel-sized weapon?

MEG Like you're taking him caroling. And by the way, you really want to keep going with no backup? Hey, I don't trust you, either. But I could really use Emmanuel. And he trusts you. So for now, it's in everyone's best interests to hold hands and cross the street together, okay?

________________________________

Meg wants to use Dean to get to Castiel; she uses Dean because Castiel, even without his memory, trusts Dean. I find it interesting how Castiel has faith in Dean despite not knowing who he is. Though Castiel is able to feel Dean's vibrations, and despite knowing Dean has killed a lot, he senses that Dean wouldn't hurt him.

________________________________

SCENE 4

EMMANUEL/CASTIEL Why wouldn't you tell me? Being an angel – it sounds pleasant.

DEAN It's not, trust me. It's bloody, it's corrupt. It's not pleasant.

MEG He would know. You used to fight together. Bestest friends, actually.

EMMANUEL/CASTIEL We're... friends? Am I Cas? I-I had no idea. I don't remember you. I'm sorry.

________________________________

Again, Dean and Castiel are referred to as "best friends" by outsiders. Bobby was the first to refer to them as such and Meg is the second. This shows us how others have perceived the two and while it isn't proof of Destiel, it is proof of a friendship. More than a friendship, in fact. Everyone knows that most successful relationships begin as a friendship. And they were beyond friendship; they were perceived as being best friends to outsiders. And between the two of them, they considered one another to be "family". This is most likely why Dean is unable to forgive Castiel for what he'd done; Castiel wasn't just a random person or even just a friend. Castiel was family to him, like a brother. It's like the times Sam has betrayed him; it always destroys Dean and both Dean and Sam have wanted to separate from each other in the past (and in fact had). Though with Dean, even when he does separate from family, it never lasts. And obviously, the feelings he has for Castiel now won't last either. And as usual, Castiel is apologetic toward Dean.

________________________________

SCENE 5

CASTIEL I remember you.

CASTIEL turns to face DEAN.

CASTIEL I remember everything.

ACT FOUR

EXT. HOSPITAL – NIGHT

CASTIEL What I did. What I became. Why didn't you tell me?

DEAN Because Sam is dying in there.

CASTIEL Because of me. Everything. All these people. I shouldn't be here.

CASTIEL walks away.

DEAN Cas. Cas!

[to MEG] You stay here.

[calls after CASTIEL] Cas!

________________________________

Castiel is showing that he is very regretful for what had happened and what he did. Though he hadn't intended for things to happen the way they did, he still blames himself for it.

________________________________ 

SCENE 6

CASTIEL is walking away from the hospital, with DEAN close behind him.

DEAN If you remember, then you know you did the best you could at the time.

________________________________

I can't tell whether this is unintentionally contradictory writing, Dean being fickle, or Dean being manipulative. Perhaps because Dean saw how regretful Castiel was, his walls lowered. Or perhaps because he needs Castiel to help Sam, he is trying his best to convince Castiel to come back and help him to save Sam.

________________________________

CASTIEL Don't defend me. Do you have any idea the death toll in Heaven? On Earth?

CASTIEL stops and turns to face DEAN.

CASTIEL We didn't part friends, Dean.

DEAN So what?

CASTIEL I deserved to die. Now, I can't possibly fix it... So why did I even walk out of that river?

DEAN Maybe to fix it. Wait.

DEAN opens the trunk of the car and takes out CASTIEL’s trenchcoat. He holds it out to CASTIEL.

________________________________

The fact that Dean kept Castiel's trench coat this entire time says a lot. He moved it from car to car each time he used a different vehicle. Despite Castiel having betrayed him, he still held onto that trench coat. It was the last piece of Castiel that he had to hold onto and so it had sentimental value. Dean certainly wasn't keeping it out of hatred. And though Castiel did, according to Dean, betray him/them, he also does have memories of the things Castiel had done for him beforehand.

________________________________ 

SCENE 7

CASTIEL I'm sorry. This isn't a problem I can make disappear. And you know that. [pause] But I may be able to shift it.

DEAN Shift?

CASTIEL Yeah, it would get Sam back on his feet.

CASTIEL sits on the bed close to SAM.

CASTIEL It's better this way. I'll be fine.

SAM flinches.

DEAN Wait, Cas, what are you doing?

CASTIEL Now, Sam...

HALLUCIFER This may hurt. And if I can't tell you again...

CASTIEL ...I'm sorry I ever did this to you.

CASTIEL puts a hand on SAM’s head. SAM groans in pain and his face and eyes glow red. The red travels up CASTIEL’s arm and face and his eyes turn red. SAM groans and gasps for breath.

DEAN Sam?

DEAN walks around the bed to the other side.

SAM Dean!

DEAN Sam!

SAM Cas? Cas, is that you?

CASTIEL sees HALLUCIFER on the bed in SAM’s place.

HALLUCIFER Hello... brother.

CASTIEL stands up and backs away in horror. SAM and DEAN look at each other. HALLUCIFER laughs.

________________________________

Castiel was willing to take all of the trauma of Sam's soul. He'd said in 6x22 that "he would make it up to Dean". And I feel this was how he did it; by saving Sam. His doing this not only shows us how much he's willing to sacrifice for the Winchesters, but also that he is redeemable and that he's back to being our regular Castiel. At least, until he takes the trauma of Sam's soul, which damages him.

________________________________

SCENE 8

EXT. HOSPITAL – DAY

SAM and DEAN leave the building.

SAM I don't know. I mean, we can't just leave him.

INT. HOSPITAL – DAY

DEAN (V-O) Well, we can't bring him with us. Everything on the planet's out for us, okay?

CASTIEL is sitting sadly on the edge of a bed, dressed in white hospital clothes.

DEAN (V-O) Word gets out, we can't protect him. Not really.

EXT. HOSPITAL – DAY

DEAN This is safer.

DEAN and SAM stop at the driver’s and passenger doors of the car and talk over the car.

DEAN Every demon who knows about Cas is dead.

SAM Not everyone. Look, Dean, this whole "enemy of my enemy is my friend" thing feels kind of like a demon deal.

DEAN It's not a deal. It's –

SAM It's what?

DEAN Mutually assured destruction. Look, man, I get it. She's not our friend. We don't even have friends. All our friends are dead.

DEAN gets into the car.

________________________________

We're being shown that he's willing to leave Castiel there, where as he was unwilling to leave Sam there. Though circumstances are different, and Dean feels that they wouldn't be able to protect him if word got out. So he feels Castiel is safest being left there, even if with Meg.

Dean still doesn't view Castiel as being their friend. I initially thought this was because Dean still didn't trust him. But I thought of the handing off of the trench coat, and I feel we were supposed to consider that them "making up". Especially after Castiel then went and saved Sam. "We don't even have friends. All our friends are dead". I feel perhaps because Castiel's mind is so warped after taking Sam's trauma that Dean considers him to be "dead" yet again.

Or perhaps he was just truly manipulating Castiel and used him to save Sam and that things are still the same for him, where he doesn't trust Castiel or consider him a friend.

This episode honestly has given me mixed signals; or, well, at least, Dean has. Maybe Dean doesn’t even know how to feel, himself. Maybe Dean has mixed feelings about Castiel and that’s the entire point; a part of him cares deeply for Castiel but another part doesn’t feel he can trust him.

I'll have to see more episodes at this point to determine that. Though this episode ended on quite a sad note and I have the feeling we were meant to view this as Dean having abandoned Castiel.

________________________________

The rating doesn’t go up or down.

DESTIEL RATING AFTER EPISODE (BASED ON HOW BELIEVABLE): 4.7/10

[lillianfromaccounting]

Forging New Friendships

Thank you to the wonderful @not-worms for being so patient while working with me. This is my submission to the @samwilsonbirthdaybang (thank you for having me!) Also, thanks to the awesome @katiekeysburg for beta-ing (any mistakes left are mine).

words by: @lillianfromaccounting | lillianfromaccounting on AO3 art by: @not-worms ships: Sam Wilson x Maria Hill fic rating: T art rating: G warnings: mentions of Riley’s death characters: Sam, Nat, Steve, Maria, Winter Soldier, Nick Fury  tags: medieval au word count: 5136

Link to AO3

Sam emerged from the lake, beads of iridescent water rolling off him. Judging by the position of the sun, it was almost time for him to report to the foundry. He should have gotten out two laps ago, but this morning, a man Sam had never met before spurred him on with a race. There were no witnesses and no prize to be had, but Sam’s pride was on the line.

“On ye left,” the man would call out every time he swam past. Sam usually paid no mind to bravado types, but there was something about this man that was different. For starters, he swam very fast--faster than any man probably should.

Could this man possess some sort of magical power? Sam knew that Iron-man and his team they call the Avengers were all up north, but it wouldn’t be surprising if they were now in the capitol where Sam lived. He had only heard tales of one man in the kingdom with similar physical prowess--the one who wore the stars and stripes, Captain America.

Sam dropped to the grass, rolling onto his back, chest heaving with every inhale of air. His muscles were on fire from the inside and his heart was about to leap out of his ribs. The other guy walked up to him, hands on his hips. His features matched the description of the famed blessed knight.

“Need a medic?“ the man asked, draping a lush cloak over himself.

“I need a new body,” Sam chuckled, catching his breath. “Do you always swim a day’s ride before breakfast?”

“Guess I had a late start.” Steve smirked.

“Really? You should be ashamed of yourself,” Sam teased. “You should take another lap. Did you take it? I assume you just took it.” Sam slid his arms through the sleeves of a cotton garment.

“What unit you in?” Steve asked, pointing to the insignia on Sam’s vest.

“Fifty-eighth, air rescue. But now I work at the forge,” Sam replied, offering his hand. “Sam Wilson.”

“Steve Rogers.” Steve shook Sam’s hand.

He was just as humble as everyone said, Sam thought. Most men of his stature would lead with their title, sir this or archduke that. Captain wasn’t a title to sneeze at, yet Steve chose to leave it out. It was almost like he didn’t want to be associated with it, at least not in this interaction.

“I kinda put that together,” Sam replied.

The legend of Captain America was that he was born a runt of a boy. During the Second Great War, the king asked Merlin to devise a magical potion to transform his men into talented knights. The potion was only tested on one Steven Grant Rogers who hailed from the king’s own fief, and it bestowed upon him unbelievable grace. He proved to be a great asset in taking down the enemy, whom Steve supposedly punched hundreds of times. As a final act to win the war and to conquer evil, he sacrificed himself by taking the enchanted Tesseract crystal into the northern glaciers, never to be heard of again. Seventy years later, a scouting expedition for resources up north discovered the Captain in a deep sleep on a bed of ice, hidden away in a high tower. The great wizard Tony Stark and his team were able to successfully wake him again.

Grasping for any way to continue this conversation, Sam blurted, “Must have driven you near to madness, to return after the whole defrosting thing.”

Sam noticed Steve’s posture stiffen just slightly before smiling. “It takes some getting used to. It’s good to meet you Sam.” Steve turned towards the woods.

Stupid, Sam thought to himself. He obviously did not want to talk about it. Sam wasn’t sure why, but he desperately wanted Steve to accept him.

“It’s the--” a horn went off in the distance, cutting Sam off.

“Alright Sam, duty calls. Thanks for the swim, if that’s what you wanna call swimming,” Steve smirked.

“Oh, is that how it is?” Sam retorted, holding back a laugh. He felt lighter at Steve’s jesting. Maybe there was hope for this friendship after all.

“That’s how it is,” Steve said, turning towards the path.

“Anytime you wanna stop by the forge and make me look admirable in front of the girl selling flowers by the gate, just let me know,” Sam said.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Steve said.

As if by apparition, a figure dressed in all black rode up on a white steed, the reins of a second horse in her hands. Her hood concealed her face but Sam saw red curls spilling out the edges. The maiden lowered her cloak and looked directly at Sam. Most people couldn’t hold a gaze for too long and need to look away, but she didn't back down. The longer Sam stared, the more determined she seemed to stare back. The horses remained eerily still at this encounter.

“Hey,” Sam finally greeted.

“Do any of you know where the catacombs are? I’m here to fetch a relic,” she smirked.

“Very funny. Ride’s here,” Steve said. “I’ll see you around, Sam.”

The lady tossed Steve the reins and he mounted the horse before nudging it into a trot.

Sam worked his hammer on the forge and steel in a steady rhythm. He had been working on this sword for a few weeks. It would earn him a pretty penny, but provided enough time during reheating that Sam was able to also work on his pet project.

Sam didn’t give the Captain much more thought as he toiled away at the forge. Actually, meeting Steve brought back a lot of memories Sam had pushed away—memories of being in the battlefield, memories of Riley. Sam thought that he had successfully put that to his past, but he was clearly wrong. The past two years, Sam worked really hard on building something meaningful. There were other soldiers like him, lost after coming back from war. They attempted to pick up old skills, going back to their bakeries and fields, markets and books. It took some time, but the habits of old came back to them. Sam forged them knives and hoes and blades for plows. He thought that he was adjusting back too, until Steve came into his life.

He absentmindedly struck the same spot over and over again. Riley would have given him hell for the way this piece was shaping up. Riley always challenged Sam to do better--to be a better soldier, a better person. Sam raised his arm and dropped the hammer down on the sword with all his might, breaking a piece off the tip. The broken metal bounced onto the ground, emitting tiny dings as it fell away from Sam.

“That’s pretty intense,” a familiar voice broke Sam’s focus.

Sam turned to see Steve leaning against the wall behind him.

“Look who it is,” Sam said, sliding the sword back into the flames of the forge

“Does it help? Hitting metal?” Steve asked, sliding his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, brother, we all got the same problems. Guilt, regret.”

“You lose someone?” Steve pressed.

“My second in command, Riley. Standard practice run, nothing we hadn’t done a thousand times before. Til a dragon’s flame knocked him out of the sky. Nothing I could do. It was like I was up there just to watch,” Sam sighed. His shoulders slumped and he hung his head, staring past the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said.

“After that, I had a really hard time staying in the force.” Sam looked up and caught Steve’s gaze.

“You happy now? Back in the world?” Steve asked.

Sam heard the glimmer of hope in Steve’s voice. It wasn’t that Sam was unhappy, but he wouldn’t say that he was happy, per se. He was living, one day at a time. Some days were easier to get by, and some days he felt like Atlas, the weight of the world on his shoulders. He knew what Steve wanted to hear, but at the same time, Sam didn’t want to lie to him.

“Hey, the number of people giving me orders is down to about zero. So hell yeah,” Sam flashed a toothy grin. It wasn’t entirely a lie. “You thinking about getting out?”

“No, I don’t know. To be honest, I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I did,” Steve said, shaking his head.

“Gladiator sport,” Sam replied, eliciting a laugh from Steve. “Seriously, you can do whatever you wanna do. What makes you happy?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said, turning his gaze to the ground.

“How bout this,” Sam said, “meet me at the Sozzled Owl at sundown. We’ll talk about your prospects over a few brews.”

“And then I told him, ‘How could I? You’re taking all the stupid with you’,” Steve laughed, fiddling with the mug in front of him.

“You really are a scoundrel,” Sam said before draining his mug.

Sam hadn’t felt this lighthearted in many moons. There was something about Steve that just brought out Sam’s mirth. He couldn’t explain it, but he naturally trusted Steve. Perhaps it was Steve’s straightforwardness, or maybe it was that he seemed genuinely interested in what Sam had to say. He had not felt camaraderie on this level since Riley and he had just met Steve a few days ago. While Sam didn’t usually believe in the Fates, he felt like they were destined to meet, that this friendship would amount to something very important.

“This is me,” Sam said, pointing to his front door.

“Is that a falcon head?” Steve asked, gesturing to the symbol above the entrance.

“Yeah, family crest,” Sam said. “Thanks again for the mead.”

“Don’t mention it,” Steve said. “After all, you’ll need an excuse for not keeping up with me tomorrow at the lake.”

“Oh, is that how it is?” Sam laughed.

“That’s how it is,” Steve smiled.

Sam was disappointed that Steve hadn’t shown up for the morning swims the past few days. Part of him hoped that he didn’t alienate Captain America when they shared stories over pints the other night. Steve seemed like he had a good time, and Sam really got the impression that Steve was going to join him on the swim the next morning. Perhaps some ‘save the crown’ mission came up.

Sudden knocking at the back door made Sam jump. He wasn’t expecting company and he didn’t have any reason to be concerned, but he readied himself nonetheless. He held his short sword in his right hand and slowly opened the door. He wasn’t expecting to see Steve and the lady who had met him the first day by the lake. They were both covered in dirt and soot, clothes tattered and torn, neither with armor.

“I didn’t know where to go,” Steve said.

“Everyone we know is trying to kills us,” the lady said said.

Sam instantly went into high alert. He had hoped the day would come when Captain America would need his help; he just didn’t expect so soon, under these circumstances. He opened his door wider and took a quick peek around.

“Not everyone.”

Sam directed Steve and lady, who was introduced as Baronessa Natasha, to the basin to freshen up while he stoked the fire in the kitchen stove to make breakfast. If Sam had to guess, his friends probably had not eaten a decent meal in a few days. Instead of the usual porridge with eggs, he felt like he had to make an impression.

Sam bounced on the balls of his feet as he prepped the meal. His whole body buzzed as he diligently measured flour, sugar, ginger, and almond milk. Sam considered the situation. Whatever this was, it was bad. Captain America was on the run and the world had turned upside down. They might not get out alive. Sam wasn’t even sure who or what they were fighting. He grabbed the cast waffle iron hanging on the wall and placed it over the hearth. When it was hot enough, he poured the batter in and put the iron back on the flame.

Sam felt ready though--ready to get back into the fight. Working at the foundry had provided tremendous resources for adjusting back to a civilian life, but deep down inside, Sam had missed being out in the field, of having a purpose that was greater than himself.

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the cottage was small. Sam heard bits and pieces of Steve and Natasha’s conversation as he continued making waffles. Something about trust. Steve trusted Natasha with his life. Sam aspired to that level of trust with Steve. He felt eyes on him as their conversation finished.

Turning around, Sam said, “I made breakfast, if you guys eat that sorta thing.”

Steve didn’t ask for Sam’s help in taking down SHIELD. In fact, he said he couldn’t ask, but Sam saw the desperation in those baby blues. Sam appreciated that in his moment of need, when he didn’t know who else to trust, Steve chose him. Sam was not about to disappoint. He offered Steve and Natasha the best weapon he could think of.

“Mate, Captain America could use my help. No better reason to get back in,” Sam said.

Stealing the wings was Sam's first taste into this new life--the spy life--the life of constantly watching your back.

If there was a point of no return in this whole mess, this would be it. Going to jail for committing a felony--and possibly treason--for Steve was the least of Sam's worries. He knew it was for a good cause, the right cause. Captain America would not steer him wrong. Sam knew it was about more than maintaining his chivalry. It was about being able to move on, to keep fighting the fight. After Riley's death, Sam thought that choosing a more reserved life, a life away from the field, would help him heal. But there was always something missing, a void. Sam was always itching for the thrill. After all, that's why he chose flyers of all the services. Jumping off of ramparts gave him a strange serene sense of calm, where for a few moments, he felt free.

Getting past the guards was the easy part. The hard part was getting through double walled stone hold that now housed his tack. Steve and Natasha were more resourceful than Sam had given them credit for. They brought along a strange torch with the smallest flame Sam had ever seen. They cut a small hole into the wall and were in and out of the fort in no time.

It wasn’t the exact set of tack that Sam had used when he was in the service, but he knew the unit well enough. Sam studied it closely, poring over every small detail, from the way the leather “feathers” were stitched together to the lightweight metal frame that folded the wings neatly. The box holding the whole contraption together glowed blue, which told Sam that the power crystals inside it were active.

It wasn’t unusual for Sam to work nights if he had many orders, so no one raised any alarm when Sam walked in and settled into his work bench. He toiled through the night to retrofit the wings’ harness to his personal armor.

The next day, they followed Sitwell and some sleazy looking types to a house of ill repute at the edge of town. Sam relayed a message to Sitwell through the innkeeper but left the actual kidnapping to Steve and Natasha.

Sam was perched on a ledge, waiting for Steve’s signal. He couldn’t hear the conversation between Steve, Natasha, and Sitwell on the lower cliff, but it didn’t seem like Sitwell was giving up any information, judging by their body language and Steve’s clenched jaw.

Steve dangled Sitwell over the edge of the cliff; the claps of the choppy waters just muffling Sitwell’s protests of not being able to swim.

Sam adjusted the wings once more, making sure they folded in and tilted up when he pulled the respective levers. He ran his hands down the sides where the soft leather wrapped around the smooth metal frame. The familiar low hum of the power source settled any nerves Sam had about his task. It had been a long time, but it felt like home.

“Oh shit,” Sam muttered as he watched Natasha kick Sitwell off the cliff. Sam leapt off the ledge and expanded his wings, gliding down just in time to grab Sitwell’s leg. He adjusted the wings to fly back up and dropped the traitor at Steve’s feet. With a flick of his wrist, the wings folded neatly back in.

“Those are pretty nice,” Steve said as they quickly shoved Sitwell into the back of a carriage.

“They do the job,” Sam beamed.

They were riding towards the Triskelion when their carriage was suddenly flanked by horsemen. Sam steered their horses left, down an open path, when a dark figure jumped out of the trees and landed on the roof of the carriage. He ripped the reigns out of Sam’s hands. The horses, given their heads, started to canter. They picked up speed despite hitting every rock and root along the way.

Sam was desperately trying to calm the horses when Natasha yanked him sideways just as an ax flew past his face. One of the horses screamed in fear from the harassment of the horsemen still flanking them, and Sam looked up to realize they were coming up on a steep hill. They were going too fast for the carriage to navigate it and in his head he saw the carriage twist and roll, crushing them into the dirt. Then he felt an arm around his chest like an iron band and was pulled backwards. There was the disconcerting feeling of falling and then he landed on his back against unyielding muscle, Natasha bouncing next to him. They lay on the ground, on top of Steve, who was on top of the door from the carriage. The rest of the carriage rolled away, horses still screaming in their panic.

Sam instinctively rolled behind a tree. He watched Steve and Natasha confront the opposition head on. The most menacing figure Sam had ever seen was strutting right towards them. His face was half covered by a leather mask, but his hair flowed in the wind. He carried several weapons on his body with ease. At first, Sam was drawn to his left arm, which had been replaced by a broadsword. The man swung it with ease, as if the sword weighed nothing on his body. Brute force was a challenge, but it didn’t deter Sam. The soldier’s empty and rageful gaze, though, left a pit in Sam’s stomach.

Sam watched as the soldier raised his broadsword arm and slammed it down on Steve. Sam wanted to race to Steve’s aid. Captain America could use his help, but he was paralyzed with a mix of awe and fear.

Steve halted the sword arm just above his head and retaliated with a blow to the soldier’s face, knocking his leather mask to the ground.

Suddenly, Sam heard the thunk of arrows and rocks striking around him. Hoofbeats thundered past and then back again as the riders adjusted to their unpredictable action. One unlucky rider pulled up his mount too sharply and his horse objected, rearing up and throwing him to the ground. Sam pounced on the man, sliding his knife against his neck and drawing him up to stand as shield against his chest. Three other men, still mounted, flanked Sam against a tree.

“Rumlow! We got the other one,” one of the men called out.

When Sam looked in Steve’s direction again, he saw Steve on the ground, shackles around his hands and feet.

The agents called themselves HYDRA and took all the precautions in locking them up. There were various chains and locks and weights and some fancier technology--probably Stark’s--to keep Steve completely immobile. The one called Rumlow made the shackles just a smidge too tight, and Sam remembered to return the favor if he ever got the chance. Natasha had taken a knife to her shoulder and it looked pretty bad from what Sam could tell.

“It was him,” Steve said. “He looked right at me and he didn’t even know me. Zola. They must have found him after the fall.”

At the word fall, images of Riley falling to his demise flashed in front of Sam. If it had been Riley on the bridge, Sam would have been--he wasn’t sure what he would have been. Many mixed emotions floated around his head.

“None of that’s your fault, Steve,” Natasha said, breaking Sam from his daze.

“We need to get a medic here,” Sam said, trying to stay present and focusing on their situation. “She’s gonna bleed out.”

One of the guards turned to Sam, then suddenly attacked the other guard with a small rod to the jugular. The second guard slumped to the floor. Pulling the helmet off, the first guard revealed herself.

She shook her hair out and said, “That thing was squeezing my brain.”

Sam looked at Steve and then back at this guard, in confusion.

“Who’s this guy?” she asked, staring at Sam.

Her grey blue eyes immediately drew Sam in. He could tell that those eyes had seen things--things that change a person, for better or for worse. Despite the hardness in her gaze, her features were actually dainty; she had a soft beauty that probably served her well in the right situations but undermined her in others. Sam wanted to crack through that wall and hear her war stories.

“They call me Falcon,” Sam sputtered. He sensed Natasha rolling her eyes.

“Just kidding,” the guard said. “I know who you are, Wilson. I know everything about anyone who’s someone.”

“Am I someone ?” Sam asked Steve, who shrugged with a frown.

“And what do they call you?” Sam continued.

“Hill. Maria Hill,” she said, locking eyes with Sam again. “We have to get out of here. Fury’s waiting for us.”

Sam was amazed at all the gadgets Maria had to free them of the chains and bonds that the bad guys had put them in, probably more Stark inventions. Maria deftly removed some floorboards. The horses kicked up gravel into the carriage with their canter.

“Once you get down, roll to your right. There should be a boat right on the water. You think you’ll make it?” she asked Natasha.

Natasha nodded, crouching and sliding through the hole. Steve was next, followed by Sam, then Maria took the rear.

Sam had fought alongside several women when he was in the force, so Maria’s and Natasha’s physicality was not surprising to him. However, he had never before witness the grace and precision with which Natasha moved her body. Sam kept replaying the moment in the carriage where she pushed him aside. If not for her, there would be an axe square in the middle of his head.

When the boat left the dock, Sam felt he could drop his guard for the first time in a while. He looked towards Steve and Natasha, but they were throwing daggers back and forth with their eyes.

“I’m sorry this is how you find out,” Maria said, breaking the tension. “It was on a need-to-know basis.”

Natasha gave a small shrug and Steve looked out towards the water, shaking his head.

Sam stared at the ceiling of the dungeon. This Nick Fury was something else--faking his own death, commanding rogue forces across the land from here. Every turn that Sam followed Steve past came with a new layer of mess.

“I’m pretty sure you realize by now that you’ve gotten involved with some heavy shit,” Maria said, breaking Sam’s thoughts. “It’s not too late to back out. There will be casualties, possibly you. No one’s going to sing the tale of the brave and mighty Falcon. There is no glory in this mission.”

She gave off a different scary vibe than Natasha. Natasha’s strength lay in her fast reflexes, her lack of total hesitation; Maria’s was strategic. Maria was the chess player who hustled you--made you feel confident that she wasn’t a threat, and then take your king before you could get your bishops out. Always several steps ahead--probably courtesy of all that time with Fury.

While Sam felt like he earned a seat at the table, he still wasn’t sure whether she respected him or not.

“I’m not here for the glory,” Sam said.

“Good. We leave before dawn,” she replied.

Sam thought he might have caught a very faint smile curling the edge of her lips.

Breaking into the Triskelion was actually a lot simpler than Sam had anticipated. Maria knew the layout and the schedule for the changing of the guards. Their mission was to prevent the king from releasing the dragons, which were trained to reign destruction on the neighboring kingdoms. Natasha was sent in on a separate mission to assassinate the king.

Steve led the way while Sam and Maria followed closely behind. With their weapons out, they slowly descended into the dungeons where the dragons were kept. Sam bumped into Maria at the next turn.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“No you’re not,” she said.

Sam smiled. “Ok, maybe I’m not. Maybe a little.”

“Quiet or you’ll give away our position,” she said, just as three guards appeared on their path.

Steve threw his round shield, ricocheting it off the wall to knock the guards down where they stood. The clangs of their armor echoed down the spiral stairwell.

“I’m not the one you have to keep quiet,” Sam said, stepping over the guards.

They knew they were almost at the dungeons when it got harder to breathe, the air thick with dragon’s breath. Suddenly, the floor rumbled beneath them.

“Take cover,” Maria yelled.

The walls started to crumble around them.

Sam instinctively threw open his wings and wrapped them around the trio as they fell to the ground. The floor gave beneath them but they didn’t fall. It felt like the rubble was moving upwards and they were along for the ride.

Suddenly, they were up in the air and out in the open sky again. Sam looked around, trying to assess where they were when he was met with a pair of fiery eyes the size of Steve’s shield staring down a large, shiny, red snout. The heat emanating from this face rivaled the hottest forge Sam ever worked in.

“You take this one; I’m going after him,” Steve pointed towards the black dragon in the distance. Sam barely made out the figure riding the dragon, but he’d recognize that broadsword arm anyway.

“How are you--” Before Sam finished his question, Steve made a running jump. Sam watched as Steve dove into nothingness, catch the black dragon’s tail and then pulled himself up to the dragon’s back.

“Watch out!” Maria yelled, knocking Sam down as a streak of fire zipped over them. Maria patted the flames out in Sam’s feathers.

“So what’s the plan?” Sam asked, helping Maria to her feet.

“There’s a cavern in the outskirts of town,” Maria said, pulling a silvery rope out of her pack, throwing one end of it to Sam. “Let’s reign it in.”

The dragon’s scaly surface slowed them down tremendously, but they eventually got the rope around the dragon’s mouth. It took both their strength to fly the dragon. When Maria said cavern, she actually meant covert SHIELD prison, because as the dragon descended, Nick Fury was waiting with some sort of whip that subdued the dragon instantly.

“And the other one?” Nick asked.

They scanned the horizon until they saw the black dragon over the ocean. It was hard to make out what was happening, but Sam clearly saw a struggle between Steve and the Winter Soldier. The dragon looked like it had had better days too, with gashes down its sides and wings. The Winter Soldier pinned Steve down against the dragon and raised his broadsword arm up.

“NOOOOO!” Sam screamed, running towards them as the Winter Soldier struck his arm down.

“Wait, look,” Maria said, holding Sam back.

Sam looked closer and saw that the blade had struck the back of the dragon, who was slowly descending into the ocean. He knew they would have to act fast before the current took Steve out to sea.

“So what are you going to do now that SHIELD is no more?” Sam asked.

“I’m going to help Tony Stark rebuild the kingdom,” she replied. “And what about you? Going back to the foundry?”

Sam shook his head. “Whenever he wakes up, we’ll probably go searching for his friend, the dude with the sword arm,” he said.

“He’s recovering pretty quickly,” Maria said, staring at an unconscious Steve lying on a bed. Mages surrounded him, casting spells and administering potions.

“Our boy will beat this,” Sam said.

“You have a lot of faith in him,” Maria said. “I have to,” Sam replied. “He gave me a reason to get back in the fight. I will follow him to the ninth circle of hell.”

“You’re a good friend, Sam Wilson of the Falcon clan,” Maria said.

“You know you can just call me Sam,” he said, turning his head to look at her.

“I know.” She smirked, turning to return his gaze. “But I like making you squirm.”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head.

In one swift movement, Maria pinned him against the wall, her hand grabbing hold of his face. Her lips were on his, firm but not harsh.

Sam allowed his hands to wrap around her, pulling her curves towards him.

It was over as quickly as it started; she took a step away from him.

“I’ll see you around, Falcon,” she said.

“You better believe it,” he said.

It wasn’t a fortnight later when Sam and Steve slid into a dark alley. Natasha, in her dark cloak, blended into the surroundings.

“The thing you asked for,” Natasha said, handing a scroll over to Steve. “Be careful Steve. You might not want to pull on that thread.”

Steve looked hopeful yet pained at the same time. Sam was excited that Steve was getting a second chance, even though he wasn’t quite sure that this friend was the same that Steve had remembered. He knew that he wasn’t going to let Steve do this alone.

“When do we start?” Sam asked.

“You know you don’t have to come with me,” Steve replied.

“Somebody’s gotta make sure you eat a proper breakfast,” Sam laughed.