#but barton is going to do what he wants even though i write him so he did it anyway lol. and oh my gosh-

[mad-hunts]

if barton tried hard enough, he thought, imagining himself being literally anywhere else but the warehouse right then was easy. this place was never meant to be lived in for an extended period of time after all; despite the fact that it had appliances that you might see in an every day home like a fridge.

it put him on edge instead of at ease, and it certainly didn't better barton's mood when he stayed in it either, after all. but so long as he was allowed to dream within it to some degree... it was tolerable. plus, he had company here, courtesy of nico, jack, and barton also supposed jervis counted. nico had complicated feelings towards the doctor, though, and spending time around jack whilst in it thus far gave barton an unfortunate impression; which was that his own son was made nervous by him.

and the irony of it all was, barton only gathered that because he could feel cognitive empathy towards him. something that didn't include feeling but reasoning. therefore, the hopes of him somehow patching that up with jack someday were drastically decreased. barton vaguely listened to jervis respond to what he'd said about him being in the warehouse solely because of them; all of the words but one not quite having any actual impact on him, this being 'nightmares.'

the smell of the yuja tea that jack prepared for jervis, as fragrant in the air that it was, seemed to be the one thing keeping him from being sucked down a unpleasant train of thought. for someone who didn't feel human half the time, barton sure as hell experienced his own fair share of seeing 'ghosts' from the past and mourning the way some things had gone in his life. and regret, as well as sorrow, were practically intertwined in every single 'normal' person's life that he'd known.

speaking of regret, once he'd closed the curtains, something from the small cabinet hanging on the wall next to them fell to the floor. barton picked it up and was immediately reminded of why he kept this photo here instead of at his home. hiding it away helped alleviate the pain of not only loving someone and losing them, but also knowing that at the time it was taken, everything seemed fine.

'my 19th birthday party - spent right, with my handsome fiancé!' was written on the back in marcy's handwriting. barton felt like screaming and smashing something simultaneously. the photo was instead placed in his pant pocket, whilst he dragged his hands down his face and thanked his lucky stars that jervis wasn't exactly expecting any big conversations from him. barton's hand flexed by his side before he was changing his shirt, wondering just what the hell he was supposed to do after seeing that again.

grief was a thing he'd never been able to pend down how to deal with 'appropriately,' unfortunately. from marcy, to the momentary blink of an eye that felt like his bittersweet friendship with yves, to his son julien's death - barton thought he'd be destroyed by all of those losses for the longest time. but he supposed he was still here, god willing, or laughing at him more like if such a being did exist. barton noticed the fabric that was splitting on the blanket and how jervis very much appeared to be in his own world.

it was at that moment that he reached for something in that same cabinet he'd opened to change his shirt, finding that sewing thread and needle he'd stored in there long ago. barton kept it there because the shirt he was wearing had actually torn at some point and he'd fixed it. though, he had no use for it now, so he decided to put it on the edge of edge of the cabinet if jervis wanted it. but he didn't really know what he wanted. that night seemed to be a series of gut punches now as the other touched upon how jack was a good person and barton should be proud of him.

he blinked several times as he felt this sensation like something ugly was swirling within him. jack had always kind of gotten the short-end of the stick, and for what? ❝ ahh. well, sometimes i've found myself practicing behaviors towards him that my father used to use on me... but i try to stop myself when that happens. jack has come a long way, as the first time i met him, he was a scared two year old who was on his own with his brother. but now jack's a young man and very brave, despite maybe still being scared sometimes. ❞ barton cleared his throat then, ❝ that's normal though. so yeah, i am proud of him. ❞

barton turned his attention back to jervis and tilted his head at the other's sluggishness. being vulnerable like that surprisingly didn't feel too nerve-wracking, as he added just a bit more to the equation. barton gave the iv bag jervis was hooked up to a good squeeze, ❝ hmm. are you still in pain, jervis? or are you just tired? ❞ he observed the other silently and looked down at the cards before the both of them. that is, before barton heard jervis approve of him reading his fortune.

he drifted a hand along the cards then. choosing one that felt 'right' came without much difficulty to barton, and when he did, the reversed 'wheel of fortune' card for jervis's past. the next card he chose was the reversed 'six of swords' for jervis's present. barton flipped the last one for his future and was greeted by 'the sun,' which made him let out a soft 'huh' and smile a bit. ❝ well... i hate to start off with the past when you got this card, but i guess we have to. ❞ he was about to start interpreting jervis's fortune when jack came back into the room with the breakfast he promised the other. well, talk about convenient timing.

Jervis merely rolled his eyes at Barton’s remark, fingers biting into the fabric of the blanket as he pulled it around his shoulders like an old shawl. The plush material was a little threadbare at the corner; a tear disrupting the otherwise seamless fabric.

Sea-green and white plaid. Utilitarian, impersonal.

It sufficed perfectly; his thin frame was almost terminally intolerant to the cold. 27 years in Gotham had failed to inoculate him against the frigid rains and bone-chilling air sweeping off the harbor.

“Trust me, I’m well aware where I would be, if it weren’t for you both. I see enough of the place in my nightmares… so I don’t require any reminders.” He flexed his fingers around the teacup, feeling the warmth seep into his hands as he cautiously tipped the liquid into his mouth. It had a strange, but not unpleasant consistency, like warm, thin honey that slid smoothly over his tongue in a tangy blend of sweet and sour. Tiny bits of softened citrus peel floated in the syrupy mixture.

Barton’s IV pole scraped slightly along the concrete floor, a sharp metallic sound that mingled with the sudden rasp of the curtains being jerked shut. The room was clean and sparse, a sterile space designed to be free of clutter, yet a faint, telltale mustiness clung to the air—a lingering scent of damp fabric and stale dust that disinfectant alone couldn’t quite mask. Beyond the makeshift partition, the rest of the warehouse stretched out in vast, dark emptiness. The floor was cold, unpolished concrete, marred with cracks that split like spider webs. Dim, flickering fluorescent lights cast a harsh, uneven glow, barely cutting through the haze of dust that swirled in the air.

But, of course, beggars couldn’t be choosers when it came to hideaways—especially when you’ve learned to take shelter wherever you can find it. Or when you were part of the criminal element.

How far he’d come and how little had truly changed.

Jervis glanced across the room at where his coat, shirt, and gloves rested neatly on the desk, carefully folded with almost surgical precision. He flexed his hands again around the teacup, feeling the phantom prickle of sensation where the wool-lined leather should be—an exposed vulnerability that gnawed at him, made his skin itch with invisible grime.

He sank his teeth into a particularly broad piece of yuja peel, the bitter tang releasing as he bit down; meanwhile, Barton’s voice drifted in one ear, out the other like the static hum on a faulty wireless. He chewed slowly, savoring the rind as he turned his attention back to the small tear in the blanket. Nodded intermittently.

Jervis’ callused, scarred fingers found the frayed edge; the fabric was worn thin and splitting, and he traced it absentmindedly, feeling the uneven fibers beneath his touch. For a moment, his thoughts shifted to the sewing kit buried somewhere in his bag, imagining the small spool of thread and the thin, glinting needles; each one ready to pierce the fabric and pull it back together.

As if stitching this small wound would make any real difference, he thought bitterly; like it could somehow soothe the cold reality pressing in on them from all sides… It was a small, pointless task, a flicker of control in a situation that felt like it was slipping away, unraveling faster than he could sew it back together. He knew it wouldn’t ameliorate anything—wouldn’t solve the problems looming larger than this tiny, frayed corner. And yet, his fingers lingered there, desperate for something tangible to fix; something he could make whole again, if only for a moment.

Jervis gave no reply as Barton moved to change his shirt; blinking hard as he gazed down at the floor, but the darkness behind his eyelids refused to stay empty. Flecks of indigo light bloomed in the black, shifting like dust motes that twisted with each beat of his heart. The room swam as he opened his eyes again, the ceiling blurred and murky like the styrofoam cup Alice stored her wet paintbrushes in. He scratched absently at the IV in his arm, feeling the tug of the thin plastic embedded in his skin but barely registering the discomfort. The bright pinpricks danced at the edges of his vision, trailing like little comets whenever he turned his head.

“You ought to be proud of him, I imagine. Your son… he seems like a good lad.” Jervis’ voice was a wisp of silk, smooth and thin, like it might unravel into nothing if he spoke too loudly. He tilted his head slightly, almost resembling a marionette on a slack string, the hint of a smile touching his lips but never quite reaching his eyes. He ran a finger along the rim of his teacup, the motion delicate and deliberate as he pondered Barton’s final query.

“Hmm… can you?” Gray eyes blinked slowly, the lids heavy and sluggish, further dragged down by fatigue. The question lingered in the air, softly innocuous. He glanced over at the tarot cards Jack left behind on the desk—arranged in a rough, careless spread, but somehow feeling deliberate, as though the cards had fallen exactly where they were meant to. The edges were worn, curling slightly; the images esoteric, half-familiar symbols. Stars, sun, moon, cups and swords, animals and human figures rendered in faded colors.

He paused, gaze narrowing, subtly curious despite the exhaustion that weighed down his expression. For a moment, his hand tightened around his teacup; twitched like he might reach out and touch them, as if by brushing the surface he could glean some hidden answer buried beneath the painted ink.

‘Why, they're only a pack of cards, after all.’

His grip on the blanket slipped momentarily, fumbling at the worn edge before he reached for his collar instead. He dug beneath the charcoal fabric of his T-shirt, searching with a practiced motion until his fingers found the tarnished silver chain again. He drew it out slowly, the weight of it comforting against his skin as he absently ran his thumb over his and Sylvie’s rings, threaded side by side on the links.

The metal was dull, no longer shining with the luster it once had, but it carried a certain softness now, smoothed by years of worry. His eyes dropped for a second before he let the chain slip back beneath his shirt. “By all means, if it tickles your fancy…” Jervis gave a short, rough half-shrug, the motion stunted as though his shoulder couldn’t quite decide whether to follow through.

[babybluebex]

venus pt.2 | angus tully x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you and angus pilfer from the chapel on your first night alone together at barton, and, after angus gets hurts and drags you into his lie, you're reminded of the worst moment of your life. not to worry, though; angus manages to soothe your sorrows, while simultaneously confusing the hell out of you. PART 2 OF ? (14k words) 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: angus tully (the holdovers, 2023) x fem!reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: canon compliance (this is a complete rewrite of the film, just with the added reader insert), lots of swearing, 70s ideals about feminism (which YES is a warning), mentions of grief/loss, drug use and drinking, graphic descriptions of injuries, a tiny little morsel of fake dating yum yum, is anyone else familiar with the spider game grumps bit? spider punch! spider kick! spider...? 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: icymi, i'm splitting this fic up into several smaller parts, just bc i'm not sure tumblr will actually let me post one big chunk of text the way i wanted to (it might exceed the character limit eesh) ((also i didn't wanna make yall wait forever for another part of this hehe)) if i missed any warnings/tags, pls dm me and let me know if you think i should add something! other than that, thank u for ur patience and enjoy!

The first evening of just you and Angus alone felt like an extended stint in hell. He was still cold and bitter, hardly speaking at all at dinner, and it made your skin crawl. You hated the silence, the feeling like you had done something wrong, even though you knew that you hadn’t, and, after dinner, in the television room, you sat next to Mary as Angus sat away from everyone else, trying to pretend like he was reading. You knew better than that, though; every time you chanced a look at him, his eyes weren’t following the lines on the page and he looked… Tired. Staring off into space, obviously lost in thought. 

He only spoke when Hunham mentioned something about writing a monograph, inquiring why Hunham didn’t just write a full book, and Hunham laughed at him. “I’m not sure I have a whole book in me,” Hunham chuckled, and Mary gave you a forlorn look, reading your mind. 

“You can’t even dream a whole dream, can you?” Mary mumbled, and Hunham fixed his jaw firmly but said nothing in return. 

The room at night was cold and lonely. You put on a sweater and two pairs of sweatpants before you slid into bed, looking out the window at the inky black night. Every so often, you would hear the wind howl outside and see fat snowflakes pass by the window, and eventually your eyes slipped closed, and you drifted off into an uneasy, blank sleep. 

It felt like moments later that you heard a whispering shuffle, and a sudden hiss of your name roused you. You winced at the light that streamed through the ajar door from the hallway, and you squinted to see Angus’s silhouette. “What d’ya want?” you mumbled groggily. 

“Come on,” Angus said, jerking his head towards the hallway. His hair was messy, wearing his winter coat, and your sight drifted down to his hands to see him carrying a large, silver flashlight, and— 

“Are those— Why do you have Hunham’s keys?” you groaned. 

“Just come on!” Angus huffed. 

You reached over to the little table beside your bed and snatched up your wristwatch, and you squeezed the button on the side to turn the little light on to see the time. “Fuck, Angus, it’s like four in the morning!” you groaned. “Fuck off!” 

“C’mon, you won’t regret it,” Angus told you. “Put on your coat and shoes, let’s go.” 

For some reason, you did as he told you, lacing up your sneakers and shrugging on your jacket, and you followed Angus as he led you out of the infirmary, sneaking past Hunham’s open door. You heard his snoring from inside, but you didn’t stop, catching up with Angus’s long-legged stride. He shined the flashlight down the dark hallways of the school, not speaking a word to you as he led you to the kitchen. It was pitch-black in there, even with the flashlight, but Angus moved with certainty, taking you to the big freezer towards the back of the room. You almost wanted to question him, ask exactly what the fuck he thought he was doing, but you stayed quiet as he wrenched the freezer door open. 

“Go grab a spoon,” he told you as he winced in the fluorescent lights inside the freezer. 

“What for?” you asked. 

“You remember that ice cream they gave us at the start of the semester?” Angus asked. You nodded slowly, remembering how dinner on the first day of classes had included individual scoops of vanilla ice cream; it was unusual and special, but you remembered not having eaten it and turning it over to Teddy. You followed Angus’s gaze into the freezer, and you spotted the cardboard tub of vanilla ice cream, sitting and waiting. 

You furrowed your eyebrows, but you slinked back into the kitchen and used the light of the freezer to find a single spoon, an oversized serving spoon. “Won’t we get in trouble?” you asked, passing the spoon to Angus, and he pulled the tub of ice cream into his grip and wrestled the lid off. The carton itself was frosted over, freezer-burnt to all hell, but Angus still attacked the mound of ice cream with the spoon. He scooped it into his mouth, and he wrinkled his nose as he shook his head. 

“I doubt it,” he replied. “How will they ever know? And by the time they figured out someone’s eaten out of here, they’ll never be able to trace it back to us.” 

“Woah, us?” you repeated. “What ‘us’? You’re the one going to town on that right now.” 

Angus looked at you with those almond-shaped dark eyes of his, and you scoffed at the little white splotches of ice cream on the corner of his lips. “We can change that,” Angus said, offering you the spoon. 

You shook your head. “I don’t eat ice cream,” you told him. 

“So, that’s what your fuckin’ problem is,” Angus chuckled. “You’re not judgmental or anything like that; you’re just low on joy.” 

“Fuck off,” you said as you rolled your eyes. 

“C’mon,” Angus said. “Blood oath or whatever… Except it’s vanilla ice cream.”

Your chest roiled. It felt like a petty thing, not to eat ice cream anymore, but you couldn’t help it. It just felt too bad. The memories were too hard, and even the experience of eating what you had been in that dreadful moment was too much. You remembered it like it was yesterday; your dad had taken you to Dairy Queen, which wasn’t unusual in itself, but the fact that your sisters weren’t with you was odd. After all, you supposed with hindsight, he wasn’t their dad; just yours. He had his typical ice cream sandwich while you had a cone, and he had walked on eggshells as he explained to you what the word “draft” meant. It was hardly two years ago, you were old enough to know what it meant. You chose not to remember the rest of that night, but you stayed steadfast— you hadn’t eaten ice cream since. 

“What sorta blood oath?” you asked warily. 

Angus shrugged. “If you don’t kill me over the next two weeks, I won’t kill you,” he said. 

You quirked your mouth for a moment, trying to convey to him that you were considering it. “I told you, I don’t eat ice cream,” you said as you crossed your arms. 

“Is this some kinda girl thing I don’t get?” Angus asked. “Depriving yourself of dessert or whatever?” 

“I’m lactose intolerant, you dick,” you fibbed quickly. “Sorry if I don’t want an upset stomach at four in the morning.” 

“Suit yourself,” he said, going back for another bite. “It’s really mediocre.” That got a laugh out of you, and Angus smiled. 

He gave up on the ice cream soon after that, putting it back and washing off the spoon (“Getting rid of the evidence”, he said), and you dug your hands into the pocket of your coat. “Is that it?” you asked, and Angus laughed. 

“No, man,” he said. “I got more.” 

“Jesus,” you groaned, but, for some reason, you followed him out to the hall and down the corridors. It was still dark outside, and Angus fumbled with the keys and flashlight as you approached the door to the chapel. “Alright, whatever you’re planning to do in here, I’m nearly certain I don’t wanna be a part of it.” 

“You know they’ve got wine in here?” Angus asked, passing off the flashlight to you so he could find the correct key. 

“Duh,” you said. “Catholics really buzz off wine in communion.” 

“Didn’t your old church use wine?” Angus asked. He tried a key on the door, then frowned when it didn’t fit, and moved onto the next option. 

“No,” you said. “We didn’t go to church. Only when we visited my dad’s mom, which wasn’t often, but her church used Fanta Grape.” 

“What sorta church did your grandma go to?” Angus scoffed. “Church of the High Fructose Corn Syrup?” 

“It was mostly flat by the time it got to us, anyway,” you said. “Dad and I usually sat in the back, so he could slip out and smoke mid-service.” 

“Smart man,” Angus said. He tried another key, succeeding this time, and the heavy door swung open. It was dark inside the small room, a sort of storage room for the chapel, and the beam of the flashlight hit various pieces of junk scattered around, boxes or whatnot, before it landed on a small credenza pressed against the wall. There was some sort of ceremonial tapestry on the surface, a large ornate goblet on top with a dusty bottle of wine sitting next to it. “Bingo,” Angus mumbled, and he went to the lightswitch on the wall, flicking it on so he could turn off the flashlight. The overhead light crackled and buzzed as it came on, and Angus ushered you inside before shutting the door again. 

He was quick to fill the goblet partways with the wine, and he offered it to you silently. At first you hesitated— did you really feel like drinking wine with Angus?— and you quickly grabbed the goblet from his hand and took a sip. You held your face stony, not offering a reaction, and you passed it back to him. “Well?” he asked, and you shrugged. 

“It’s fine,” you replied. “Are there any of those Body of Christ crackers in here?” 

Angus gestured towards the heavy furniture against the wall, a sorta “Look for yourself” movement, and he went for the wine as you started through the cabinet. He gave a little shudder at the bitter sourness, then shrugged for himself and took another sip. “Not bad,” he mumbled. You quickly found the tub of little round wafers, and you worked the lid off as you sat down on the floor. You offered him one, which he shook his head at, and he took another sip of wine as he sat down next to you. He leaned up against the side of the credenza while you settled against the wall, and you put a wafer in your mouth, letting it melt a little against your tongue. “What would your body and blood be?” you asked. 

“Huh?” Angus grunted. 

“Like, Jesus’s body are these rice paper crackers, and his blood is cheap wine,” you explained. “So what would yours be?” 

Angus furrowed his eyebrows as he thought. “Well, blood is easy,” he said. “A beer.” You scoffed, and Angus quickly said, “No, no, listen, hear me out. You’ve had a beer before, right?” 

“Of course,” you replied. 

“Well then, you understand,” Angus sighed. “A nice beer on a hot day… The glass of the bottle is all cold and everything and it’s sweating a little and the weird foam label is tearing from the condensation… Isn’t that, like, a godly experience?” 

“Sure,” you giggled. “So, beer for the blood. And the body?” 

Angus screwed up his mouth as he considered it, and he finally said, “How about, like, a cheeseburger?” 

“Really?” you asked, popping another cracker in your mouth. “Why?” 

“It works good with the beer,” Angus said. He reached over to you and stole a cracker, and he chewed on it as he said, “Beer and a burger? What’s better than that? Brings you closer to God and shit like that, right?” 

“I mean…” you mumbled. “Yeah, that makes sense. So, taking communion, you do a shot of beer and… What? Take a bite of a burger?” 

“Sure,” Angus snickered. “Or a slider, like at a barbeque.” 

You laughed, and you reached out to grab at the glass of wine in Angus’s hands. He passed it to you, and you took a sip of it as Angus exchanged for another cracker. “What about you?” he asked. “What’s your body and blood?” 

“Hmm,” you murmured. Your body shuddered at the warm bitterness of the wine, and you coughed a little. “A hot coffee.” 

“Ew,” Angus sneered. “You drink coffee?”

“Not always,” you said. “Only when I need to warm up. It’s too bitter. But, like, the way your beer is relieving to you, a hot coffee is relieving to me. The same, but different, y’know?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Angus said. “Like, coming in from playing in the snow and your fingers are all stiff and cold or whatever… My mom always made us hot chocolate that was pretty much just heavy cream and cocoa powder and some sugar. We’d dip graham crackers in it and sit by the fire and listen to Christmas records…” He trailed off then, and you caught onto his train of thought— used to. Not this year. 

“Us?” you asked. “You got a sister or something?” 

“No,” Angus said. “My, um… My dad.” 

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Right. Sorry” 

“What do you mean ‘sorry’?” Angus said. 

“Well, a few days ago, when everyone left,” you started in confusion. “You said your dad died.” 

The room was quiet for a beat, and Angus shifted as he sat, pulling one of his legs underneath himself. “No,” he said carefully. “No, um… Dad’s still hanging out, but he’s… He’s in the hospital. For, like, the past four years. He’s as good as dead.” 

“Shit,” you mumbled. “What happened?” 

Angus shrugged, quirking his mouth. “He got sick,” he said simply. “And Mom thought it would be better to have professionals take care of him instead of us…”

“M’sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to pry or anything.” 

“You’re fine,” Angus said. “So, your dad…?”

You nodded solemnly. “His number came up,” you said softly. “He… Had something to prove, I guess, and no reason to try to get out of it. Told me he was gonna go and make me proud of him…” Your throat got thick then, and you trailed off for a moment. “January’s gonna be one year since…”  

“Jesus Christ,” Angus said under his breath. “Sorry.”

You quickly wiped at an escaped tear, trying to get rid of it before Angus could see it, and you choked down a cracker. “It’s whatever,” you said. “These things happen, y’know?” 

“Yeah, they happen,” Angus said. “But that doesn’t make them any less sad.” 

“I don’t care about sad,” you said. “Been too sad lately. All I want is to stop feeling sad.” 

Angus tilted his head at you, watching for a moment, and he started to dig into the pocket of his coat. Quietly, he extracted something, a sort-of crushed up cigarette that looked like it had fallen out of the pack and had been jostled in his pocket for months, and he held it out to you. You clocked it immediately, though— the paper too thin, the contents too packed in. You scoffed with a watery voice, twisting at a loose thread on your jacket. “Wow, you really are a Barton boy, huh?” you said. “Getting high and drinking holy wine in the chapel.” 

“If it makes you feel better, it’s not mine,” Angus said. 

“Whose is it, then?” you asked. “And how did you come to have it?” 

“Ah, well,” Angus shrugged. “Kountze the Cunt’s always had it coming for him. I steal his cigarettes, he steals my picture, I steal his last joint out of his bag before he leaves to go ski. What’s that called? Quid pro quo?” 

“That’s not really what quid pro quo is,” you laughed. “But I don’t have a lighter. And, furthermore, I don’t smoke weed. Especially not Kountze’s shit.” 

“I’ve got the lighter situation covered,” Angus said. He went back into his pocket and extracted a small matchbook, and he added, “And, yeah, you don’t smoke weed, but I’m not even sure this is weed. Knowing Kountze, it’s probably oregano or tea leaves or something. So, smoking this isn’t smoking weed, because there’s a fair chance it’s not weed.” 

You pursed your lips as you considered Angus’s offer, and you looked at the ornate goblet in your hands, still a little full. “Fine,” you decided. “But not here. We’re not gonna hotbox the chapel storage room.” 

“Aw, we’re not?” Angus whined jokingly. “I really think that’ll give us God points.” 

“Yeah, sure,” you chuckled. “Get enough of them, and you can redeem them for a free large soda at the check-out counter.” 

You helped each other drain the last of the wine out of the cup, and you pocketed a handful of crackers as you exited the room. Angus did well to lock up behind him, to make sure nothing seemed awry or unusual on the off-chance that Hunham checked the grounds, and Angus led you through the school to the main interior entrance to the chapel. It was as cold in there as it was outside, and still just as dark, and your eyes adjusted to the low light as Angus took a running leap at the raised stage, hopping up there with ease. You followed suit, though not as quickly or gracefully as Angus, and you settled on the piano bench next to him. His long, thin fingers worked to strike one of the matches on the edge of the matchbox, and he brought the flame to the joint nestled between his lips. 

You had never really noticed before (because when would you have ever noticed it before?) but Angus had a tiny scar on his upper lip, not really that raised or any different color than the rest of his lip, but it shifted as he puckered his lips around the joint. Come to think of it, Angus’s lips looked… Good? Wrapped around the joint, his lips looked plush and soft, just a hint pinker and darker than the golden-olive tones of his face. And the middle of his top lip poked out a little bit, a bit more pronounced because of his scar. Angus pulled at the joint for a moment before removing it from between his lips, and he offered it to you, and you fixed your expression from focusing on his lips to looking him in the eyes. “Well?” you asked. “Is it marijuana?”

“No,” Angus said. “Well, yes, but it’s Kountze’s ditch weed. So, technically yes, but you’d need to smoke a lot of it to get high.”

“Lemme see,” you said quickly, reaching out for the joint, and he passed it to you. You had only ever smoked once before, back when you went to Central, and you had gotten dizzy and sick, but, as you pulled a toke on this joint, you felt nothing of the sort. Sure, there was that weird herby taste in the back of your throat that made it unmistakingly weed, and you cringed as you blew out the smoke. “Oh, this is shitty,” you chuckled. “Like, super shitty. God, Teddy, where’d you buy this?” 

“He only has it to sell to eighth-graders,” Angus shrugged. “Make a quick buck to buy Playboys with.” 

“Ew,” you snickered. 

“What?” Angus said. “Not a fan of Playboy? Are you more of a Penthouse fan?” 

“No,” you said. “I mean, like, no, just… Thinking of Kountze doing that is… Just gross.” 

Angus took a drag on the joint, and he said “I guess you’ve kissed a guy before, huh?” 

“Excuse me?” you sputtered. 

“I mean, there’s not an elegant way to ask if you’ve had sex before,” Angus started quickly. “So, like, gotta build up to it, right?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Fucking hell,” you mumbled as Angus quickly muttered out a “Sorry, forget I said anything”, and you slowly added, “No. If that answers your wildly-invasive question.”

“‘No’, you’ve never had sex before?” Angus asked. “Or ‘no’, you’ve never kissed a guy before? Or a girl? Are you gay? I don’t really care if you are, but like—”

“Shut up,” you huffed. “Both.” 

“Oh,” Angus said. “Not even at your old school?” 

“Not even at my old school,” you echoed mirthlessly. “Guys just never really cared about me. There was always some girl who was prettier or funnier, smarter, richer, whatever. I’m nothin’ special.” 

“Hm,” Angus grunted. 

“What about you?” you asked, taking the joint and pulling at it. 

“Oh, I get it regularly,” Angus said. “Yeah, my girlfriend’s a Playboy model. I sneak her into the dorm once a week and— Be serious, of course not.” You laughed as Angus smiled at his own joke. “I’m the same. When I wasn’t going to all-boys schools, girls just never liked me. I’ve always been a weirdo.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows. “I thought you’ve always gone to Barton?” you asked. 

“No,” Angus said. “I’ve been kicked out of a ton of schools. S’why I’m still a junior and I’m about to turn 18, I’ve been moved around so much that I ended up falling behind.”

“Why?” you asked. 

Angus shrugged. “I’m what they call a ‘troubled youth’,” he said, reciting the title like he didn’t believe it but had been told it too often. “I cheat and steal and get in fights. In fact, Stanley says if I get kicked out of Barton, I’ll be going to Fork Union.” 

A shiver ran down your spine. You knew Fork Union; you hadn’t ever been or knew anyone who went there, but its reputation preceded itself. Whoever Stanley was really had it out for Angus. “Fuck,” you hissed. “That’s… Intense.” 

“Yeah,” Angus nodded in agreement. “So I gotta be on my best behavior.” 

“And smoking weed in the chapel is what you consider good behavior?” you asked. 

“Of course not,” Angus scoffed. “But it’s fun, and that’s what I care about.” 

You nodded slowly, and Angus pulled at the joint again before pressing down on one of the keys of the piano with his outstretched pinky finger, hearing a single little chime sound. He seemed to drift off then, going off in thought in silence as he absently passed you the joint. After a few moments, his eyes slid off to the side, and you followed his gaze over to see a small table set up just in front of the stage with a single picture frame on it. You knew the picture: Curtis Lamb. It was something that you and Mary could commiserate on, and you held the utmost respect for her and for the late Curtis. 

You declined the joint and got up to go sit in front of the picture. You had never chosen to sit in the front row of the chapel, always trying to be as close to the back door as possible, just like with your dad, and you had never seen that picture of Curtis that close up before. He was handsome, his uniform spotless without a wrinkle, the skin on his face smooth and shiny. He was young— 19. 

Angus slowly joined you on the pew, pressing his back against the arm and pulling his legs up to his chest, and he let out a gentle sigh as he too examined the picture of Curtis. “That’s why you like Mary so much,” Angus whispered eventually after a long and heavy bout of silence. “‘Cause you both…” 

You nodded. “You can say it,” you mumbled. “S’not the Boogeyman or anything. Saying it doesn’t make it more powerful.” 

“I know,” Angus murmured. “But thinking about it… Dying, being killed…” He shook his head, trailing off. “I used to think about it a lot. Back when Dad first got sick.” 

“Oh, yeah?” you asked gently. 

Angus hummed. “Then Dr. Gertler put me on some pills… They help a little, but sometimes I still… I dunno.” 

“Gertler?” you repeated. “That’s your psychologist or whatever it’s called?” 

“Yeah,” Angus said. “He used to be my dad’s doctor too, but then Dad went to the hospital, and they’re better for him there. Not that The Gert isn’t good, he is, just… Not what Dad needed.” 

You fell into silence then. The purples and blues of the morning began to bleed in through the chapel windows as you and Angus sat still, looking at the picture of Curtis but not seeing it. You were each lost in your own heads, and you found yourself sinking down to the thin, threadbare carpet and settling on your ass, and your head leaned back just so to touch Angus’s hip. You didn’t know him too well— you were clueless about what his favorite color was, but you knew the surface level of his worst trauma— and you wanted to comfort him, but something like holding his hand or hugging him seemed like a bridge too far. So, the slightest contact, a sort-of “I’m right here” seemed like the way to go. 

At long last, you heard the heavy creak of the chapel doors opening, and Angus turned to look. You couldn’t see from your vantage point, and the person nor Angus said anything, but you heard the groan of the old wooden pew in the very back row as someone sat down, and, based on the silence and the fact that Hunham was a staunchly non-Christian man, you could deduce that it was Curtis’s mother back there, coming in for her morning prayers. 

You all sat quietly, ruminating on your own thoughts, and finally you heard Mary’s smooth and smoky voice, not a yell but not a whisper: “You two better get back in your beds before Mr. Hunham decides to wake up.”  

You passed through the aisle towards the front doors of the chapel, and you and Mary locked eyes for a brief moment as you walked by. She gave you a small nod, then closed her eyes and went back to her prayers. 

Angus wasn’t a chatty guy to begin with, but the silence as you made your way back to the main building and the infirmary felt suffocating. It was cold as hell, somehow feeling even more biting than the 4AM chill you had felt before, and you nudged away a few slushy snowflakes as you walked up the steps to the doors. “Thanks,” you said finally. “That was, umm…” 

Angus shrugged, tugging the key ring out of his pocket carefully to keep the keys from jingling together. “Don’t mention it,” he said. “And now we know where they keep the good wine.” 

You managed a halfway-decent smile, and you dug into your jacket pocket and handed Angus a few Christ crackers. “Not a cheeseburger,” you said. “But it’s something.” 

-

You were sleepy throughout the entire day. Even though your excursion only lasted a few hours and didn’t give you any less sleep than a typical bout of insomnia did, you kept yawning throughout your library time and jog around the campus. Angus seemed to be in better shape than you were, his usual sullen self but not in any way looking tired, and you envied him. 

The day only brightened by a bit at lunch. You sat next to Angus as you quietly ate, chancing glances at him every so often, and he seemed… Normal. Drinking his Coke, looking past Mary and out the window to the snowy expanse outside. Not attempting any conversation or showing that you had shared a moment just a few hours earlier. Of course, you didn’t expect him to really do that, but the point held true that it was infuriating. When your eyes met, he could have at least smiled instead of averting his eyes like you were Medusa or something. 

The brightening came in the form of Hunham setting a large ceramic plate in front of him, covered by a napkin. “I have a surprise,” he announced. “These were a gift to me, and I would like to share them with all of you.” 

Quickly, Hunham tugged off the napkin, and you saw a plate of cookies. Sugar, with hard, shiny frosting decorating the different shapes with vibrant Christmas colors. “Look at them,” Hunham added. “Look at the… Festive shapes. Snowflakes… Gingerbread men… A tree… Oh, a little mitten!” He picked up the pastel blue mitten and bit off the thumb, and he contemplated the taste for a moment before looking back up at you and Angus. “And they’ve got frosting!” 

Angus’s eyes slid to you, unimpressed, then back at Hunham. “May I go to the bathroom, sir?” he said flatly, already getting out of his chair as Hunham excused him, less of a request and more of a “I’m leaving, here’s my sorry excuse as for a reason why”. You watched Angus stalk out of the dining room, his hands bouncing limply at his sides, and Mary sighed, taking a sip of her coffee. 

“Well, I’m trying,” Hunham mumbled half-heartedly, and Mary scoffed out a laugh. Obviously, this was a continuation of a conversation that you had not been privy to, and you kept your thoughts to yourself as you stuck a green bean in your mouth. 

The three of you sat in silence for a few moments, long enough for the tick of the second hand on your watch to bore under your skin, and Hunham looked back at the door, as if expecting Angus to come back in. “Where the hell is he…?” Hunham mumbled, and he scooted out his chair noisly. 

His shoes clicked across the polished hardwood, and you nudged a few French fries around with your fork. “You’re not eating,” Mary said as the door closed behind Hunham, and you tore your eyes up from your plate to look at her. Her cigarette clutched between her manicured nails, her dark mug of coffee in her palm, she looked every bit of a mother as she should, especially with the soft, sad look in her eyes. She wasn’t admonishing you; she was worried. 

You shrugged. 

“Do you not want this?” Mary asked. “I’m sure I can find something else back there for you.”  

“No,” you said quickly. “I-I’m fine, Mary. Just… Tired, I guess.” 

“Mm-hm,” Mary hummed. “Which has nothing to do with your little excursion with that boy earlier, right?” 

You shook your head, closing your eyes. “That wasn’t…” you started. “We were just…” But you stopped yourself before you could tell her why. Why had Angus dragged you out of bed to galavant around the school? From what you could tell, he didn’t particularly like you. “Huh. Weird.” 

Mary ashed her cigarette. “All I’ll say is, I’m not your mom. Whatever you and him get up to isn’t my business and I don’t want it to be, but… Don’t let him do too much to ya.” 

“God, Mary, we don’t…” you started softly. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Mary said coldly. “I meant, don’t let that boy into your head too much. He’s a boy. And boys are, for the most part, dumb assholes. So, whatever he does, don’t let it affect you too much. After all, he’s just trying to—”

The hallway outside the dining room suddenly echoed with a cacophonous “Son of a bitch! That’s another detention!” and a sudden metallic crashing, and you nearly snapped your neck with the speed at which you turned to the door. Before you could even think not to, you got up out of your seat and made your way out the door, just in time to watch Hunham disappear down the corridor. Angus was already on the far side of the hall, the metal trash can tipped over with the lid rolling beside it, and you spotted Hunham’s pink detention pad sitting next to the payphone. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened, and you trailed after Hunham and Angus at a quick walk, staying a few steps behind Hunham. 

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Mr. Tully, but you are courting disaster!” Hunham called after Angus, and you watched Angus hook a corner, but peek back out at Hunham. 

“Without sufficient exercise, the body devours itself,” he said with a cheeky smile, and his gaze landed on you. The smile dropped from his face for just a moment before he disappeared around the corner once more, and Hunham turned to see you. He wasted little time with you, though, going back to his huffing-puffing pursuit of Angus. 

“You are careening towards suspension!” Hunham shouted, and you sped up your steps to overtake Hunham, but there was no way you could keep pace with Angus. He was standing in the middle of the doorway, waiting for Hunham to catch up, and you breathed heavily. 

“Angus!” you shouted after him, but he picked up the chase once more, allowing you to get within grabbing distance of him before he sped off. “Ang— What the fuck? You— Fork Union!” You couldn’t process your thoughts efficiently, let alone in a good enough way to express what you needed to, and you hoped that the mere mention of the military school would make Angus rethink his decision. 

But it didn’t. In fact, he seemed to pick up speed as he ran from you, and you skidded into the trophy room to watch Angus pull off a clumsy cartwheel. The fucker was enjoying himself. Your chest burned with agitation as Angus came to a stop at the open doorway, and an acid bile rose in your throat. The gym. 

Before he had fucked off to Haystack, Jason had mentioned how Senator Osgood had paid for a brand-new gym to allow his son Jordan to graduate from Barton, and that apparently Hunham was the one who had failed him and forced the gym to happen. You knew nothing of Jordan Osgood and even less about his right-wing Republican father, but you (along with everyone in Senator Osgood’s district) knew that they had money. And the money seemed to have gone a long way, a basketball court with bleach-white nets hanging from the goals, straight and even hardwood floors with the Barton lion mascot expertly painted on them, tall and high windows that let in a blinding amount of sunlight. But the gym was obviously unfinished, only half of the floor shiny and waxy with lacquer. 

You saw what Angus did, and you huffed out a breath. “Angus, please,” you said through labored breaths. “Don’t— You can’t—” 

Before you could say more, Hunham came up behind you, in a similar winded state as you. You watched Angus’s back straighten, and Hunham held out a warning finger to him. “Don’t even think about it, Mr. Tully,” he said. “You are a hair’s breadth from suspension. I’ll wash my hands of you. You hear me? Wash my hands!”

Angus took half a step forward, the toe of his shoe touching the gym floor, and Hunham said, “Stop right there. You know the gym is strictly off limits. This is your Rubicon. Do not cross the Rubicon!” 

Angus slowly turned to look at you and Hunham, a coy smile on his scarred lips. He gave a light, taunting shrug, then flicked his eyebrows, and said something in Latin. If you had been in a better mindset, you could have translated it in the moment, but you weren’t, and you watched Angus wink at you, then charge across the floor into the gym, towards that fucking gymnastics vault. 

You had never watched someone get seriously hurt before. You hated the idea of it— even watching a scary movie was a little too extreme. But time seemed to slow down as you watched Angus bounce off the springboard and go ass-over-head over the vault, landing with a thundering thud and a sickly sound of flesh against the thin mat. Not a snap, but definitely the sound of an injury. The air was still and stagnant for a long second, a second that felt like a lifetime, before a shrill scream cut through the air. 

“Oh, fuck! Mr. Hunham!” 

The next few minutes felt like a blur. You ran into the gym and helped Angus to his feet, holding down vomit at his limp left arm— not that it would have mattered; Angus had already taken care of that for you. You pawned him off to Hunham, then somehow, you mechanically went back to the infirmary and gathered your coat, Angus’s coat, and Hunham’s coat and keys. You felt numb, out of your body, listening to Hunham and Angus bicker back and forth the whole car ride to the nearest hospital. You were quiet, letting Angus lean into you and sniffle and cry at the pain, and you saw his eyes all red and glassy as he choked back his tears. He was scared. You grabbed his hand— the good one, not the one he had raised and trembling with the effort— and his sniffles quieted down to pathetic whimpers. 

“This is the end,” Hunham said, and you snapped back into your head in an instant. You don’t remember having gotten to the hospital, let alone maneuvering Angus inside and to the emergency room, but somehow you were there, Angus wedged between you and your teacher on the bench, his hand still clasped in yours. “They’ll inform the school, who’ll inform your parents, and then it’s curtains. You are gonna get me fired. You!”

Angus sniffled. “I’m the one who might lose an arm, and all you can think about is yourself.” 

You sighed. “That’s dramatic, Angus,” you mumbled. 

“When I get my arm chopped off, will you help me carry my books to class?” Angus asked. 

“I’m not helping you with shit,” you snapped. 

Before Angus could snark back at you, a nurse came, dressed in white, and she handed a clipboard and a plastic ballpoint pen to Hunham. Her eyes glazed you, then Angus, and she said, “If you could just fill this out, please. Admissions and insurance.” 

Insurance. Fuck. You hadn’t even thought about that. Hunham’s face went sour and pale, and he slowly started to fill out the first box, putting A-N-G in block letters, but Angus spoke in a clipped voice. “Excuse me,” he said, and the nurse turned back to him. “Is there any way we could skip this whole insurance thing?” 

The nurse sighed. You recognized that sigh; your mother did the same one with her customers at the diner. The ‘I don’t get paid enough for this’. “It’s just standard procedure,” she said. 

“I understand. But look…” Angus started. He chewed his lip at Hunham, then looked at you, then turned back to her with a breath. “We were over at Squantz Pond playing hockey… And I slipped on the ice.” 

“Angus,” Hunham said in a hushed tone. “What’re you doing?” 

“My mom told him not to take me, but I made him,” Angus continued, and Hunham looked past Angus to you, seeing if you had any idea what stunt Angus was pulling now. You were just as lost as him, though, and you watched Angus with a curious enrapturement as he spun his yarn. “My folks are divorced, and we don’t get to see each other very often. She’ll be mad as a hornet if she finds out.” 

“Okay, that’s your business,” the nurse said, sighing again. “But we just have certain protocols.” 

“Y-Yeah, protocols,” Hunham protested weakly, but Angus bulldozed right over him with more lies. 

“Please,” Angus said, his eyes going all glassy again. “I never get to see my dad, a-and I just wanted him to meet my girlfriend.” A hot shock ran down your skin, blazing in your cheeks, as you understood that you were the supposed girlfriend. God, you were going to strangle Angus Tully when this was all done. “It was my fault, all mine. I don’t want to get him in trouble.” He gave Hunham a pathetic little glance, his bottom lip wobbling, and his voice was all broken as he added, “I don’t want her dragging you to court again.” He sniffled and squeezed your hand, and you pulled his hand into your lap, stroking his soft skin with your thumb. “Can we skip the whole insurance thing? We can pay cash. Right, Dad?” 

Angus didn’t drop your hand the entire time. He held onto you as the three of you were led to an exam room, and he shied away from the nurse (she never told you her name) as she tried to take off his sweater. He mumbled something about his shoulder, how he couldn’t move it right, and you carefully nudged in front of where he sat on the exam table, flexing your hand to get him to let go. Quietly, you tugged Angus’s maroon sweater up as far as it would go before he groaned in pain, and you swallowed thickly. “I know, Ang,” you said gently. “It’s alright, baby.” 

His eyes got all big at you as you played the role he had assigned to you, and with gentle encouragement from his beloved “girlfriend”, you managed to get the sweater off his right arm and have it slide off his left arm. Next came his robin’s-egg-blue buttoned shirt, and you sighed as you focused on the small plastic buttons, not able to look Angus in the eye. As calm as you seemed on the surface, you were screaming and cursing and spitting like a possessed woman inside. You were so angry at him, for everything— for disobeying Hunham, for getting himself hurt, for roping you into his kinda-sorta insurance fraud. If you could have slapped him across the face, you would have. But you couldn’t, so you settled for a sweet kiss on his cheek and a whispered “There you go” as his shirt came off. That left him in his thin white undershirt, and you balked at his pale skin, but particularly the way his shoulder stuck out grotesquely. You could tell from a glance— dislocated. “Jesus…” you whispered, and the nurse moved you aside. 

“Yeah,” she said. “Sometimes the things you see here are a little sickening. But you’ve been more than enough help; thank you, sweetie.” 

“Guess you’re not going to nursing school, huh?” Angus chuckled, trying to lighten the heavy mood, and you folded his sweater and shirt over your arms. 

“You know how I get with blood, Ang,” you said softly. “Nursing school was never gonna be for me.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Angus hummed, as if he knew anything about you and was just being reminded of this fact. “Hey, remember back in August, at the football game against Choate, when Jason got flattened by that linebacker?” 

You had never gone to a single Barton football game, but obviously Angus had a point to why he brought this up, so you nodded. “Yeah,” you said carefully. “Umm, i-isn’t that the same day Kountze invited us to that bonfire?” 

“Yeah,” Angus nodded along with your addition. “I think you were somewhere else, bathroom or something, but Jason just got pummeled by this dude that was twice his size—”

“I was with his girlfriend when that happened,” you said. “She was hysterical.” 

“But he got up and went back to the sideline, and I went down to talk to him,” Angus said, wincing as the nurse worked his undershirt over his head. “And his mouth was all full of blood, but he was laughing ‘cause he said Jenny was gonna be doting all over him for the next week.” 

You nodded. “And she did,” you said. “That was… Kinda gross to watch, actually.” 

Angus shrugged, but immediately regretted it, hissing in pain at the involuntary action. “That’ll be us,” he said in a tight voice. “I’m all injured and everything, and you get to take care of me.” 

“Get to?” you repeated. “You make that sound like a privilege.” 

“I took care of you when you got your wisdom teeth taken out last year,” Angus said, and your hand went lightly to your jaw. How in the fuck did he know you didn’t have your wisdom teeth? Had he seen it? When? “Now it’s your turn.” 

“I didn’t sign up for that,” you chuckled. 

“Sure you did,” Angus said. “That was in the fine print when I asked you to go steady.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I think the pain’s making you delirious,” you said. 

“We’ll get him some pain medication soon,” the nurse said. “First, we’re gonna have to X-ray your shoulder. Your dad and girlfriend are gonna be right here, we’re just going down the hall.” 

The silence in the exam room once Angus left was deafening, and Hunham stood opposite you. Every so often, he looked like he wanted to say something, then would change his mind, and he finally settled on “I can hold Mr. Tully’s things.” 

“I-I’ve got it,” you said softly. You held his clothes a little closer to your chest and chewed your lip nervously, and you mumbled, “I guess we’re lucky… It could be worse.”

“We don’t know how bad it is yet,” Hunham said, and you shrugged. 

“At least he’s not, like… Dead,” you offered. “His arm’s just a little messed up.” 

Hunham sighed but said nothing else, seemingly agreeing with you. You let yourself shift your weight as you waited, and your fingers itched in Angus’s sweater. It was soft, and still a little warm from his body, and you buried your cold hands in it. 

Angus returned soon after, and the air was prickly with silence until a doctor walked in. Dressed in a white lab coat, he carried a thin piece of plastic, and he smiled thinly at Hunham before he threw the plastic sheet onto the lightbox on the wall and flipped it on. There, as clear as day, was an X-ray of Angus’s fucked-up shoulder, the ball-and-socket joint clearly not ball-and-socket anymore. “The good news is nothing’s broken,” the doctor told you, and Hunham audibly sighed. 

“Thank God,” he said. 

“But you did dislocate your shoulder pretty badly,” the doctor added, eyeing Angus down. “That was quite a tumble you took, kid. What happened?” 

You saw Angus look at the nurse out of the corner of his eye, and, knowing that he had to stay with the fib he told, you chimed in quickly. “We were playing hockey,” you said. “Or, rather, Angus was playing hockey, and me and… His dad were watching. The ice was slippery, and Ang just… I don’t know, one second he was up, the next he was down.” 

“Was trying to impress you,” Angus mumbled, and you lovingly brushed down his messy curls. 

“I know,” you said. “It’s okay. Just don’t do it again.” 

“I take it you’re the girlfriend, then,” the doctor said.

“It would seem that way,” you said lightheartedly, but you gave a secret, harsh tug to the bottom of Angus’s hair as retribution. He winced and sucked in a tight breath, and the doctor nodded a bit. 

“What’s that mean?” Angus asked. “Like, I know what dislocating is, but what does that mean for me?” 

“That means your arm has popped out of the socket,” the doctor said. He moved away from the X-ray and went to join the nurse at the side of Angus’s exam bed, and they wordlessly began to move him onto his back. “And we just have to pop it back in.” 

“Is it gonna hurt?” Angus asked, and you watched panic fill his eyes as the nurse’s hand brushed the skin of his upper arm, and he winced in pain. 

“Not if you relax,” the doctor told him. He turned around to the small counter behind him, where the nurse had laid a bundled-up bedsheet, and he started to shake it out and loop it around Angus’s torso as he added, “The key is to relax. Deep breaths.”

You watched the doctor and the nurse expertly wind the bedsheet around Angus, and you furrowed your eyebrows at it. “What’re you doing?” you asked. 

“We are making a sort-of slipknot,” the doctor told you. “We’re going to pop his arm back in, and then he’ll be right as rain, with only a little discomfort afterwards, but the Percodan we’ll give him will take care of all of that.” 

Angus said your name, his voice a little shaky, and, even though you had never heard him talk like that before, you knew that he was scared. You stepped forward just a touch, close but not too close, but, as the medical professionals began to gently pull his arm back, readying it, Angus’s free hand shot out like lightning and gripped your fingers. His eyes were squeezed shut, holding his breath, his neck and ears red, and you looked at the doctor for a moment before you said, “Ang, baby, it’ll be okay. Just one second where it hurts really bad, then it’ll be over. Can you do it for one second?” 

“...Think I’m gonna puke again…” Angus mumbled. 

“That’s okay,” you said soothingly. 

“Don’t wanna puke on you,” Angus added, and you frowned. 

“I’ll just throw everything in the washer when we get back,” you said with a shrug. The doctor made eye contact with you from behind Angus, and he flicked his eyebrows at you in a way that told you to keep talking. Distract Angus, so he can’t see it coming. “How about, when we get back, we can watch TV?” you started, trying to find anything to blabber about for long enough. “I think a new episode of Bonanza comes on tonight. But, God, I missed the last few weeks, I have no idea what’s going on anymore. Is Hoss still courting that fancy lady? I thought maybe that was done, but I heard something about it on the radio the other day, so who knows—”

At that moment, the doctor and the nurse yanked the bedsheet in opposite directions, and Angus writhed and wormed as he let out a guttural gurgle and hiss, then a pathetic yelping scream as his shoulder went back right with a wet pop that made your neck hair stand on end. You heard Hunham behind you give a scoff of “Jesus!”, and then the ordeal was over. 

Angus moved his left arm slowly as the doctor rattled about the medication he was prescribing, something where Angus couldn’t drive while on it or drink alcohol or mix with other medication, and you nodded along as you listened. Angus worked himself into his undershirt and threw his buttoned shirt on, and you took over doing up his buttons. He frowned at the sight of his sweater, though, and you knew that lifting his arm to get it into the sleeve was maybe asking too much, so you held onto it as they fixed a sling around his neck and looped his left arm in it. 

“Take care, young man,” the doctor said. “And keep her around. Hard to find someone who cares about people like that nowadays.” 

The first significant thing Hunham said since arriving at the hospital was spoken as the three of you approached the pharmacy counter, prescription in hand. “Barton men don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” Angus asked. 

“Barton men don’t lie,” Hunham clarified. 

“Yeah, well,” Angus sighed. “I had momentum.” 

Hunham passed the paper prescription across the counter to the pharmacist, and he mumbled, “Hello, we have this, uh…” 

The pharmacist looked over his glasses at the paper, then up to Angus, then Hunham, and finally you. “Percodan, huh? Gimme a few minutes.” 

He went off in search of the requested medication, and Hunham paused for a moment before adding, “You too, Miss, you’re included in this.” 

“What, was I supposed to refute all of that?” you asked. “We were already committing insurance fraud, might as well play along as best we can.” 

“And you said that if Woodrup finds out, you’re screwed,” Angus interjected. “So now he won’t find out.” 

“What happens if your parents inquire?” Hunham asked, and Angus’s face darkened for a moment as he scoffed flatly.

“Never gonna happen,” he said. “Trust me.” 

Hunham looked obviously confused at the certainty of Angus’s words, but nevertheless said “Okay, then. This all remains entre nous. Got it? You know what entre nous means?” 

“Oui, monsieur,” Angus said, screwing up his face mockingly. Then, a coy smile crossed his lips, and he said, “Now you owe me.” 

“Owe you?” Hunham repeated, glaring at Angus. “Oh no, do not try to leverage me, Mr. Tully.” 

“All I’m looking for is a little thank you that I did something nice for you,” Angus said. “That’s all.” After a moment, he flashed Hunham a cheeky smile. 

You swallowed thickly. “You look real stupid with your hand dangling out of the sling like that,” you said quickly. You don’t know what possessed you to say that, and Angus scoffed.

“God, you’re mean,” Angus said. “What happened to the little kisses and the ‘baby’s and shit?” 

“You think I enjoyed doing that?” you asked. “Fuck, Angus, grow up. I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” You didn’t wait for a reply before you turned heel and made your way to the nearby bathroom, adorned with a silver plaque with a little stick woman on it, leaving the boys in a confused dust behind you. 

Lucky for you, it was a single stall situation, a big room able to accommodate a wheelchair or walker, and, once inside, you quickly flipped the lock on the door and sighed. Your heart was racing, your cheeks hot— in honesty, you did enjoy all of that. Something about it felt almost cathartic, pretending to have a healthy and loving relationship with someone, like you were acting out your greatest fantasy. Whether or not Angus was a part of that fantasy or just a placeholder until David Cassidy paid Barton a visit, you weren’t sure, but your heart ached and cried. You didn’t want to pretend— you wanted the real thing. And the fact that you’d never get the real thing, at least not anytime soon, made your eyes burn with tears. Just more evidence to the fact that your life was doomed from the start— nobody wanted you, plain and simple. 

You slammed at the tap, turning it on to run cold water over your hands, and you pressed your hands to your burning cheeks, trying to calm down. You took a deep breath, then another, and you shucked off your jacket and tugged Angus’s red sweater over your head. It smelled like him, clean but also a little sharp from the sheer boyishness of it all, and you slid your jacket back on.

By the time you left the bathroom, Angus had worked himself partially into his coat, a small paper baggie in hand that rattled with pills against the glass bottle. “We’re getting dinner,” Hunham told you, his tone indicating to you that he and Angus had had a battle while you were absent and he was the loser. His eyes swept your frame, obviously catching Angus’s sweater on your body, but he said nothing about that.“There’s a small place in town.” 

“I-I didn’t bring my pocketbook,” you started to protest, but Angus dug into the pocket of his corduroy pants and produced his own wallet. 

“I’ve got it,” he said simply, and gave you the same smile he had given Hunham. 

The chosen dinner spot, a small pub called the Winning Ticket, was surprisingly bustling with activity. Music played from the bar portion of the place, competing against Nixon on the television and the dinging of pinball machines, and the air felt warm but not thick, the way some restaurants could feel. You slid into the booth first, then Angus settled himself next to you, nudging your arm with his slinged elbow (he had shifted his arm backwards after your comment about his hand, so now only his fingers spilled over the edge), and Hunham sat across from you.

“I think I’ll start with a beer,” Angus said, and Hunham scoffed. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Tully,” Hunham told him. 

“We’ve had a hard day,” Angus continued. “We deserve to loosen up a little.” 

“You’ve had ten milligrams of Percodan,” Hunham said. “You’re plenty loose already.” 

He was right. Angus had swallowed down two of the pills in the backseat of Hunham’s Nova on the drive over, and already he was acting differently, just a little lighter and less reserved. It wasn’t a dramatic change, and you might not have noticed it, but Percodan Angus almost reminded you of Holy Wine and Joint Angus. 

“They’ve got Miller High Life!” Angus said, looking down at the laminated menu that lay waiting on the table. “‘The Champagne of Beers’!” 

“Oh, yeah?” you asked. “You and what identification, Mr. Seventeen Years Old?” 

“Hey, if you could have a beer, you would,” Angus told you.

“Oh, I can,” you told him. “If the bartender’s a guy, I just gotta flutter my eyelashes at him, and I’ll get whatever I want.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you became very aware of your teacher’s presence across the table from you, and you cleared your throat. “O-Or so I’ve heard.” 

Before anything else could be said, a waitress approached, and your face lit up. Dyed ginger hair, fun earrings, a soft face and kind eyes. 

“Miss Crane!” Hunham beat you to the punch, and your Secretarial Studies teacher glowed. “As I live and breathe! What are you doing here?” 

“Hi, guys!” Miss Crane laughed. “And our sweet Barton girl, how’re you, darling? Uh, yeah, I always pick up a little extra work over Thanksgiving and Christmas.” 

Hunham took a moment to respond, still smiling at Miss Crane, and he stammered out, “Oh, this is Mr. Tully—”

“Oh, sure, I know you,” Miss Crane said, and Angus gave her a smile.

“Angus Tully,” he introduced himself. “We met outside Dr. Woodrup’s office. I was wrongly accused of blowing up a toilet.”

Miss Crane gave you an amused smile, and you shared a laugh. “I didn’t know about the ‘wrongly’ part,” she said. 

“And, of course, Miss Y/N,” Hunham added. 

“It’s good to see you,” Miss Crane cooed. “I was worried I wasn’t going to see you before you moved back to Boston. Barton sure is gonna miss you.” 

“Oh, I’m…” you started. The real story was far too long and messy to get into right at that moment, so you swallowed down the truth in exchange for a grin. “I’m glad to see you too.” 

“Yes, well,” Hunham started. “He’ll have a cheeseburger.” 

“And a Miller High Life, please,” Angus butted in as Miss Crane began to write the order down, and Hunham grunted. 

“No, you will not.” 

“Where do you stand on Miller High Life, Miss Crane? Quality-wise, I mean,” Angus asked, and you groaned. 

“Christ, give it up,” you said. “He’s on pain meds, Miss Crane, don’t—” 

“Well, like they say,” Miss Crane started with a scrunch of her nose. “It’s the champagne of beers.” 

“And she’s a professional!” Angus said, looking at Hunham as he gestured to her, and Hunham rolled his eyes, unamused. 

“Okay, one cheeseburger,” Miss Crane started, and Angus sighed. 

“And a Coke,” he added reluctantly. 

“Umm, same for me,” you told her. “But, umm, if you can have them do no pickles, please?” 

“Sure, sweetie,” Miss Crane said softly. 

“I’ll have a cheeseburger as well,” Hunham told her. 

“Three cheeseburgers,” Miss Crane recited. “Hold the pickles on one—”

“And a Jim Beam,” Hunham added, and Angus gaped in awe, the audacity of Hunham to say no to a beer but yes to a drink for himself washing over him. “On the rocks. Please.” 

Miss Crane smiled and left the table, and you watched as Hunham watched her leave. You looked over at Angus with a smile of disbelief, and Angus grinned— Did Hunham have game after all? 

“Ouch,” Angus laughed, shaking his hand like he had gotten burned. “You two have chemistry.” 

“That’s the Percodan talking,” Hunham grumbled. 

“No shit, Mr. H,” you giggled. “That was something. Who knew you were such a Casanova?” 

“I don’t know, seeing her like this,” Angus started. “I think she’s pretty attractive.” 

You snorted so loud with a laugh that you almost missed Hunham saying “Listen, you hormonal vulgarians” as he leaned into the table. “That woman deserves your respect, not your erotic speculations.” 

Angus looked at you with a smile, and you tamped down more laughter. “May I at least go to the bathroom?” he asked. “Sir?” 

“You mean the payphone?” Hunham asked, and Angus’s face fell stony. You watched the staredown, seeing who would break first, and eventually Hunham bested Angus, because the younger peeled away from the tufted booth seat, and you rolled your eyes. 

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” you groaned, and you got up just as Miss Crane was coming back, her tray ladened with your drinks and Mr. Hunham’s Jim Beam. You tailed Angus towards the bathrooms, but paused at the corner of the bar, watching him disappear into the mens’ room. You stayed behind, looking around at the televisions mounted on the walls, and your mouth went sour at footage of the war being shown on the news. You looked away before you could even properly read the headline, and your fingers nervously went to fiddle with your necklace. 

The bartender gave you a look from down the way, expecting an order out of you, and you shook your head. He (of course it was a male bartender) tilted his head with a smile, a sorta “You know you wanna” look, and you pushed a small laugh out of your nose. Driving, you mouthed simply, making a little steering-wheel motion with your hands, and he nodded and smiled, then turned back to his marginal work. 

The door to the mens’ room swung open, and you watched Angus slink out. He didn’t look at you, or back in the direction of the table— he looked around the bar, and found his focus being pulled in by one of the pinball machines. You watched him approach and dig in his pocket for a moment, and he watched the guy play his game as he set his dime down on the edge of the machine. 

You foolishly almost thought that the night would pass without any more incident. You’d eat your dinner, get back to Barton, and go in your room and ignore everyone and everything until the sun crested the snow in a few hours. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. If you were back home, your mom would let you and Rachel and Anna open one present from underneath the tree, which was always a pair of pajamas that somehow coordinated with everyone else’s but never matched, then you’d fall asleep on the couch while your mom listened to her favorite Nat King Cole Christmas record. Well, that’s what had happened every year up until now. Up until Richard and his daughter (you still didn’t know her name). You wondered what their traditions were. You wondered how they were changing the fabric of your family. You wondered if your mom had bothered to keep up the picture of your dad that hung in the hallway, or if it had come down when Rich moved in. 

Yet, incident came. Over the din of the bar, you heard Angus’s whiny little voice say “‘Cause I don’t wanna shoot the other fuckin’ machine.” You looked over at him, and recognized his body language, tall and looming, as the guy playing pinball stepped back with a huff. 

“Thanks for fuckin’ up my mojo,” he said to Angus, and you started forward as he called, “Kenny! You’re up!”

“Bullshit,” Angus said as you came up behind him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I put my dime down, so I’m up next.” 

“Angus, let it go,” you told him firmly, but a voice stopped either of you from splitting the scene.

“What was that?” 

You turned to look at who spoke, presumably Kenny, he of the next round of pinball, and your heart sank. Young— older than you, but still young as hell— wearing a heavy jacke with jeans and a chain dogtag, and your throat closed up. A hook at the end of his right hand. There was no mistaking where he lost it, and a flash of fear and dread washed over you. It was too much— first the news, now this. You felt sick. 

“Ang, c’mon, let’s just go,” you mumbled, but Angus was too busy staring down the hook that swung at Kenny’s side. 

“Hey, sport,” Kenny said, his voice low. “My eyes are up here.” 

“Look at this kid,” the pinball wizard chortled. “Spoiled little fuckin’ Barton boy. And his bitch too, huh?” 

“Yeah, he’s a fancy little prick, isn’t he?” Kenny said, and he looked at you. “Why the long face, honey? Look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“I-It’s fine,” Angus stammered, and his arm snaked around to you, pushing you back just a touch behind him. Something in your chest tightened, thinking that Angus thought he needed to protect you, but there was also a warmth— Angus was protecting you.“You can take my dime.” 

“Take it?” Kenny repeated. “You want me to take your dime? Like it’s charity?” 

“N-No,” Angus breathed. “What I meant is we can play together.” He lightly jostled his left arm in the sling, and he added, “You can be my left arm.” 

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Kenny asked, taking a step forward, nearly nose to nose with Angus, and you felt Angus freeze up. 

“Hey,” the pinball wizard started. “You. Prom Queen over here. You gonna let your little boyfriend talk like that?”

Your eyes darted from him to Kenny, then to Angus, then back to Pinball Wizard. You stammered for a moment, trying to find anything to say, and the only thing that came out of your mouth was “I-I—” 

“No wonder he’s got a big mouth,” Kenny chuckled. “She doesn’t have one at all.” 

You felt dizzy, and you tugged on Angus’s sleeve to leave as you examined Kenny for anything you recognized— a patch on his jacket, a logo on his t-shirt, anything would suffice to ground you. Finally, you saw it: a little appliqué of a purple ribbon with a heart at the end, looking just like the real thing that, last you knew of it, was stashed in the back of your mom’s closet. “My dad’s got one of those…” you mumbled. You couldn’t even think about self-preservation anymore; you were fixated on it now, saying everything you could about it to anchor you in your head and not the stratosphere. “...Got it during Green River…” 

“Oh, yeah?” Kenny asked. “And why hasn’t he knocked some fuckin’ respect into your boy here?” 

Your mouth felt stuffed with cotton. “He-He didn’t…” you started, and stared at Angus. “He’s an asshole… Socially inept or whatever. Didn’t mean anything by it.” 

You couldn’t add in anything more before Angus was peeling away from you, hot-stepping it back to the table, and Pinball Wizard and Kenny made chase as you took up the rear. “Angus!” you shouted, and Hunham and Miss Crane both looked in your direction as Angus walked up to the table. 

“Mr. Hunham, can we go, please?” Angus asked urgently. 

“Why?” Hunham asked, looking back at the two men and you. 

“I’ve just been called a fancy little prick,” Angus said as Kenny called after him. “We should go,” Angus added, and you passed Pinball Wizard and Kenny to get to the booth, once again taking up your assigned place behind Angus. 

“Why’d you run off?” Kenny asked with a fake smile. “We were just talking to you. Don’t they teach you manners at that school?” Kenny closed in on Angus, and he brought his hook up to his chest, poking Angus in the sternum with it, and Miss Crane jumped as Hunham jostled in his seat. 

“No, no, no, Kenneth!” Miss Crane pleaded. “Leave him alone, they just came in for some food!”

Kenny seethed at Angus, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You could tell that mayhem was a moment away, but then Hunham began to speak.

“Kenneth! Is that right?” he started, holding up his hands placatingly. “I don’t doubt that he did something to offend you, it’s his specialty. Perhaps I could purchase you gentleman something to imbibe, and we could let whatever this unfortunate incident is go the way of the dodo.” 

“The what?” Pinball Wizard sneered. 

“The dodo, it’s an extinct bird,” Angus grumbled, and Kenny put force behind his hook again, causing Miss Crane to butt in once more. 

“What he’s saying is he wants to buy you guys a beer!” She exclaimed, hoping that her explanation would ease the situation as quickly as possible. 

Kenny stared Angus down, then looked at you, cowering and scared. Maybe he took pity on you, the poor little Purple Heart’s daughter, or maybe he realized that what you had said about Angus’s social ineptitude was right, because he finally stepped back, lowering his hook. “Yeah, okay,” he nodded. 

“Same here,” Pinball Wizard said. “I’ll have a Miller.” 

It’s almost like he couldn’t help himself: “Champagne of beers!” Angus chuckled, and your arm shot out, smacking him across the stomach. You glared at him, and the smile fell off of his face.

You couldn’t even enjoy your food. Not that you were worried about Kenny or Pinball Wizard coming back for round two, but you couldn’t keep your mind off of your dad. Seeing everything had affected you for some reason, and you kept your mouth shut the whole time as you ruminated on it; the images of the newscast swirled in your head, and your least favorite but most common nightmare stayed in your mind— the Army claimed they couldn’t locate enough of your father’s remains to even send back a body, and you could only see remnants of your father in some field. Mostly, you saw his tattoo, big on his chest, the same one he had had since you were a baby, needled in as an homage to you— your father always called you his miracle, and he had a starburst right over his heart. You could only envision the starburst, charred and detached, laying in the grass somewhere in Vietnam, never to return home to you.

 You saw Hunham looking at you every so often, maybe checking if you were alright, but nobody said anything until you were gone and out the door. The energy had turned prickly and stiff, and even Angus’s voice cutting through was enough to make you jump.

“Why’d you buy those guys beer?” Angus asked. “They’re assholes.” 

“That’s one way to look at it,” Hunham grumbled, digging in his pocket for his car keys. “Here— catch.” He tossed his keys over to Angus, and his right hand raised and caught them deftly, almost reflexively. “How many boys do you know who have had their hands blown off?” He paused to give Angus a moment to respond, despite it being obvious that there was no answer, and he continued, “No, Barton boys don’t go to Vietnam! They go to Yale or Dartmouth or Cornell, whether they deserve to or not.”

“Except for Curtis Lamb,” Angus mumbled. 

“Except for Curtis Lamb!” Hunham exclaimed. It wasn’t hard to figure out the implication, and Angus swallowed thickly at you. 

“Were you ever in the military?” He asked Hunham, obviously looking to somehow change the subject.

“I tried to enlist in ‘41, but was rejected,” Hunham began, pointing at his eye, then tugging at his door handle, consequently mumbling something about “I have to get in over there”.

“They made me an air raid warden,” Hunham continued, breezing by you and Angus to slide into the passenger side door of the Nova, and both you and Angus wrinkled your noses at the sour smell that followed Hunham. “Gave me a whistle and everything… Helmet, arm band…” Hunham slid into the car, scooting over to his seat, and Angus sorta shook his head. 

“Before we get going, can I be candid with you?” Angus asked, leaning down to peer at Hunham through the open car door. You settled into the backseat, slightly thankful that you wouldn’t have to share space with Angus again (not that you minded on the ride up here), and Hunham grunted out an affirmative. “You smell.”

“Angus,” you frowned admonishingly. You were struck by the sheer and blatant rudeness, and you saw Hunham’s face fall sadly in the rearview mirror.

“Like fish,” Angus continued, getting in his own seat and shutting the car door. He wasn’t wrong, of course, but you never would have outright said anything like that. “And it’s really noticeable towards the end of the day; I can even smell it on your coat… Mind if I crack the window?”

Hunham sighed as Angus worked to turn the window crank, and Hunham said, “Trimethylaminuria.”

“Huh?” Angus grunted. 

“Trimethylaminuria,” Hunham repeated himself. “Means my body can’t break down trimethylamine. That’s the smell…” He paused for a moment to uncomfortably wipe his nose, and he added, “And, uh, yes, more towards the end of the day.” 

“Wow…” Angus said. “Your whole life?” Hunham nodded, and Angus perked up for just a moment. “No wonder you’re afraid of women!” 

“I am not…!” Hunham began, shaking his head. “Afraid of women!” 

“Sorry,” Angus mumbled as Hunham continued with an under-the-breath, “Jesus H. Christ.” 

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Angus added. “Dr. Gertler says I don’t always give consideration to my audience.” 

“Ah,” Hunham began. “And who is Dr. Gertler?” 

Angus looked back at you silently for just a moment, the tiniest acknowledgement of the fact that you were privy to this information, and he snapped at Hunham, “My shrink.”

“Has Dr. Gertler ever tried a good, swift kick in the ass?” Hunham asked, and you couldn’t help the scoffing giggle that left your mouth. 

“Okay, all right,” Angus chuckled mirthlessly. “Now your turn. Go ahead, tell me something about me. Something negative.” 

“Something negative about you?” Hunham asked in fake-shock. 

“Sure,” Angus shrugged. “Just one thing.” 

Hunham rolled his eyes. “Just one?” He paused for a moment, thinking about his answer, and he turned to look at you. “Anything to add, Miss?” 

You kept your mouth shut and shook your head quickly. “Nothing nice, anyway,” you said softly.

“I concur,” Hunham said, and he cranked up the Nova.

The rest of the ride back to Barton was quiet, listening to the wind whistling through the open window as nothing was said, and words were only finally exchanged as you and Angus parted at the doorway to your separate infirmary rooms. Hunham’s room was off down an adjacent hallway, and you had already heard the door shut by the time you spoke. 

“Oh,” you started, tugging at the bottom of the maroon sweater. “Here, sorry, I forgot—” 

“S’fine,” Angus said. “Don’t worry about it.” 

You nodded slowly. “I’ll run it through the wash and get it back to you,” you said, and Angus shook his head. 

“Keep it,” he said. “Looks better on you than it does on me.” 

“O-Oh,” you stuttered. “I mean, i-it looks pretty, um, expensive, are you sure you don’t—” 

“I’m sure,” Angus nodded. He looked down at his feet for a moment, and he softly added, “Thanks for taking care of me today.” 

You shrugged. “No big,” you said. 

“Big to me,” Angus mumbled. “I’ve never had a girl— or anyone, really— um… Make me feel like that.”

“Like what?” you asked. 

“Cared for,” Angus said. “Cared about. I was, umm, so nervous in there that I thought I was gonna shit and die. But you… You were so gentle, and so nice, it really helped me.” 

“S’what I’m here for,” you said. “See you tomorrow, Ang.” 

“Wait!” Angus said quickly as you put your hand on the doorknob to your room. “Can I, umm… Can I give you a hug?” 

You wrinkled your eyebrows in confusion but nodded all the same, and you stepped closer to him. His good arm wrapped around your middle, a little slow and stiff, like he had never even touched a girl before, let alone hugged one, and your arms went around his neck, holding him tight. He took a deep breath and settled his cheek against your temple, letting himself enjoy it, and your heartbeat picked up. 

You weren’t sure why, but you had a sneaky feeling that Angus had motives behind the embrace. Was he going to try to kiss you? A kiss was just a kiss, it didn’t mean that much in the grand scheme of things, but it would be your first kiss ever. Did you want Angus to be that for you? For the rest of your life, your first kiss would be with Angus Tully, some kid you went to boarding school with who was an asshole ninety-eight percent of the time and a genuine sweetheart the other two percent. Was two percent nice and caring enough, though? 

“Ang,” you whispered, stepping just a touch away from him to see his face. The lights in the hallway were half-turned off, only every other fluorescent bulb lit, and it left you and Angus in a slightly darker alcove of the hallway, and the dim light made shadows play on Angus’s thin face. His eyes looked half-lidded, like he was sleepy, but you could feel his heartbeat and heavy pulse— he was wide awake. “How’d you get that scar?” you asked softly, letting your fingers go to his lips and lightly trace his scarred and puffy upper lip. 

“Got beat up a few years ago,” Angus told you. “Busted my lip.”

“Ang,” you sighed in a hushed tone. “You’ve gotta stop giving people reasons to beat your ass.” 

Angus chuckled. “I can’t really help it…” he said, and trailed off for a moment, then added, “B-Babe.” 

“Are you nervous?” you whispered. “There’s no reason to be.”

“V’just…” Angus started. “I’ve never…” 

“Me neither,” you reminded him. “But I want it to be you.” 

Silently, Angus shifted forwards, pressing his body fully against yours again, his arm going tight around your waist, and he helped you rise up on your toes to fully reach him. Then, before you could even think about what you were doing, you leaned into him and, your eyes slipping closed, touched your lips to his. His lips were warm and soft, and his fingers itched in the back of your shirt. You really had no idea what you were doing, but it felt right, and you tilted your head a bit as Angus put force behind his kiss and held you even tighter. 

You felt lightheaded as you slowly pulled out of the kiss, touching your forehead against Angus’s and sighing. A smile slowly slipped across your lips, and a laugh escaped while your fingers tangled in the curls at the very bottom of his neck. “Um, thanks,” you whispered. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that all day… Since this morning, y’know…” Angus admitted. “I just, um, didn’t wanna do it in front of Hunham.” 

“I understand,” you told him. “Thanks, Ang.” 

“Are you okay, by the way?” Angus asked. “You got really… I don’t know. Upset. Back with those guys.” 

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Y-Yeah, just, um… That guy was in Nam, and after the stress of the rest of the day, kinda just seeing that and remembering was…” 

“Fuck,” Angus sighed. “I’m really sorry. I should’ve stood up for you.” 

You shook your head. “That’s not your job,” you told him. 

“Well, yeah, it’s not,” Angus started. “But that doesn’t mean that I can’t stop it.” 

You bit your bottom lip as you thought, and you mumbled, “Sure. Alright. Umm, I’ll see you in the morning, Ang.” 

“One more for the road?” Angus asked, and you rolled your eyes at his little cocky smile. 

“I’m not even ten feet away from you for the rest of the night,” you chuckled. “Some road there.” 

“But there’s a wall,” Angus whined softly. “I’m also trying to act cool here, and ask for another kiss without asking—”

You leaned up and gave him one more kiss, quicker and less emotional than the first time, but Angus still locked eyes with you and badly contained a smile when you parted, just like before. “I’m trying to not, umm…” he started, looking back down at your feet. “Not get ahead of myself here, but um… No, we can-we can talk about that tomorrow.”

“Talk about what?” you asked, but Angus shook his head. 

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “We’ll... Tomorrow. Get some sleep, okay?” 

Even though you were confused by his trepidation, you agreed anyway. “You too,” you told him. “If your shoulder starts to hurt, just… Let me know. I’ll see if I can help.” 

“Sure,” Angus nodded. He hesitated to step away into his own room for a moment, and he leaned in and kissed your forehead before scurrying away, like he was afraid of the consequences. 

You went into your own room and closed the door, taking a deep breath. You had kissed Angus. You weren’t sure if you were more excited about it being Angus or just the kiss itself happening, but you felt giddy and you bit your cheek as you smiled. Carefully, you went about undressing from the day, slipping into pajama pants and doubling up on socks, and your fingers brushed down the front of the sweater. It was soft, wool, and the stitching on the cuffs and around the bottom and neck proved it to be more expensive than anything you could ever dream of. 

Angus told you to keep it. Were you like those girls who wore their boyfriend’s jackets now? The girls at Central wore their boyfriends’ varsity jackets when it got cold, the ones with their names across the backs, showing everyone who they were dating. You had never really cared too much about the varsity jackets, but, then again, there had never really been anyone that you would have considered even trying to wear their jacket. First, you’d have to figure out if Angus was even your boyfriend before you started to get all giddy about having one. 

Was that what he wanted to ask, but held off for tomorrow? Did he want to ask you to be his girlfriend? It was exciting, but you understood why he had chickened out of asking you then and there. You would be his first girlfriend, and that was intimidating. Maybe he didn’t want to be your boyfriend, and just wanted to be able to hug you and kiss you whenever he wanted. 

Your mind began to race. Angus wanted to kiss you, but what else did he want? Did he want to have sex? Did he even care about that? Had he even thought that far out yet? Certainly, he had. He was a boy after all— boys’ brains are made up of 50% sex and 50% violence. Maybe you were just overthinking it. It was entirely possible that Angus didn’t even want to be your boyfriend, and just got caught up in the moment and kissed you. 

Your head hurt from being too analytical, and you slipped into bed and pulled the blankets to your chest. Tomorrow, Christmas Eve, you and Angus could talk about everything you wanted. Maybe, you thought with a sleepy smile. Your Christmas present would be a boyfriend. 

[tboywriter]

Crush | Angus Tully x reader

pictures not mine, edit is mine gender neutral reader edited: no (might edit in future) warnings: angst(?), swearing, drinking/drunkenness, weirdly-written pov, disappointed "parents", idrk summary: Angus and reader are both pining but all it takes is a little alcohol to fix that. -> Hunham isn't fired, reader goes to Barton a/n: I'm so glad the internet loves this man as much as I do. This movie got me to write again so I'm just glad for that. I might post more for him, idk. Let me know if you want some shorter stuff. I tried to capture Angus's dorkiness but IDK how well that turned out, LOL!

♡ ♡ ♡

“God, that was so nerve-wracking!”

“Really?” He smirked. “You didn’t look nervous when you were up there practically singing your heart out.”

“I mean it! My heart’s going so fast! Here, feel it.” Before he could process what you meant you had already grabbed his hand and stuck it flat against your chest. He could feel the thumping, rhythmically beating faster than usual, but mostly he was fixated on his hand being pressed against your body. His eyes widened a little, staring at your hand that still held his, his mouth parted ever so slightly. 

His face became flushed as you rambled on about the presentation and how you worried about how it might affect your grade. He envied you in that moment, able to be so normal about something as intimate as this. He wanted to move his hand lower, feel more of your chest, but instead you released his hand and he returned it to his side. 

You didn’t notice how quiet he was, trying to stop his mind from going to places he didn’t want you to know about. He nodded along whenever you looked up at him and laughed when you laughed but his eyes flitted between your neck and your lips. 

He noticed he was walking at some point, didn’t even realize he was moving until you stopped in front of the door to your room. You walked inside, turning when he didn’t follow. “Coming in?”

He shook his head, effectively shaking his wandering mind free of dirty thoughts. “Yeah, yeah. What are we doing?”

“I don’t know,” You sigh, flopping on the bed. “What do you want to do?” He stood awkwardly beside you, his hands in his pockets. Laughing, you pat the spot next to you. “Relax, what are you so on edge for?” Right. This wasn’t something unusual. You two often came to each other’s rooms and lounged around. 

He didn’t smile back but he could feel his cheeks heating up. He only hoped you wouldn’t notice– “You okay?” You sat up, leaning against the headboard and staring into his eyes as he sat down across from you. 

“Yeah, sorry, my mind is somewhere else.”

“Yeah? Where else?” You tilted your head slightly, like a puppy diligently listening to their owner.

“Nowhere.” You didn’t press, you never did. He’d tell you if he really wanted to, no sense in annoying him about it. After that fateful Christmas break that brought you two together, though, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking about his dad every time he began to stare off into space.

You’d met because of circumstance. The only two ‘holdovers’ left at Barton academy. Angus’s parents couldn’t be contacted and you couldn’t stand the thought of spending three weeks with the biggest jerk in school. It’d be much nicer to spend the weeks alone, reading in your room– or studying as Mr. Hunham originally governed. Instead you got to, albeit unintentionally, sort out your trauma together. Who knew Librium was such a popular drug?

“You wanna go see if Mary’s got the Match Game on? I kind of just want to sit on the couch.” He nodded.  

Mary was in fact in front of the TV and Mr. Hunham, a bit unexpectedly, was too. They shared the couch facing the screen although sat on each of the ends, as far away from each other as possible. Mary and Mr. Hunham both liked their respective routines: Mary’s was to relax each night with game shows and Hunham’s to be alone… somewhere. 

You and Angus entered the room silently and sat on the adjacent couch, considerably closer than the two adults. Angus grabbed a pillow and handed it to you before grabbing one for himself and hugging it. He leaned back into the cushions, tired eyes lazing towards the television. You had a similar approach, putting the pillow on the arm rest and lying down, legs tucked in. 

When you woke up, you were just as you were when you first sat down. Only now there was a blanket draped over you. You peeked over the blanket to see where Angus had taken up the same position you had on the opposite armrest. He was rubbing his eyes currently, only just have woken up himself.

He winced as he stood up and stretched out. You smiled, his long legs must hurt from being curled into that awkward position all night. 

Mary walked in, fully dressed in her uniform. “Good, you two are up. I didn’t want to have to wake you. Hurry back to your rooms, it’s already 7:15.” You glanced at the clock to confirm. 

“Shit!” Angus exclaimed but then rescinded under Mary’s disapproving gaze. “Breakfast is in fifteen minutes. Mary, why didn’t you wake us up last night?”

She put a hand on her hip. “Why should that be my job? Anyways, I fell asleep too. Only one who didn’t was Hunham who was gone when I woke up.” 

“Fair point.” Turning to you, Angus got caught in his own tracks. He meant to quip a ‘let’s go’ and begin to head back but he was instead met by you, still leaning against the pillow with slightly tousled hair and half-open eyes. 

Mary had left at this point, leaving the two of you to awkwardly stare at one another for a couple moments. You broke it by standing up next to him, slowly and steadily. “Guess we should get ready for breakfast, huh?”

“Yeah. Uh, yeah.”

♡

After breakfast, you and Angus didn’t see each other until your Laws and Government class. He usually sat in the back corner, unseen and unheard, but you preferred the front so you could pay better attention. Instead, a compromise was made, and the two of you now sat in the center of the room. 

The teacher of the class was a highly pompous and old-fashioned old man. His hair was stark white and his cheeks and nose glowed red. He’d almost look like Santa Claus if it weren’t for his contant scowl. Worst of all, he hated uniqueness. If you didn’t kiss up to his highly conservative values then you weren’t getting an A. And you needed an A. 

He was handing back the scores from the oral presentations you had the day prior. The one that made your heart jump out of your chest and into Angus’s unexpecting hands. You both looked at each other, making reassuring eye contact before flipping the papers. He smiled, B+. You, on the other hand, couldn’t be more disappointed. C-? What was the point of putting a minus when anything under a C was failing? You shrank back into your chair, never having got a failing grade before. 

You stuffed the paper in your bag, not caring that it crumpled. Angus reached over and placed his hand on your knee. He didn’t say anything but you appreciated the gesture. He knew how much your grades meant to you. You stuck your tongue out at him and his decent grade but he knew you meant well.

♡

You didn’t usually drink, but tonight was the exception. Was it dramatic to be drinking due to a bad grade? Yes. Did that stop you from taking up Teddy Kountze’s offer to go to an off-campus party? No. Yeah, maybe it was a bad idea to accept the offer of the guy who was a constant ass to you and your best friend, but when he asked you were already in a bad mood. You didn’t even have to interact with him there, just confiscate all the free alcohol and get comfortable on the couch. 

And so you did. When you walked into the house you said ‘hi’ to a couple people you knew and then ran to the kitchen. The smell hit you immediately, there was no second guessing what everyone was drinking. God, people really like this stuff? Whatever, it’s just one night. 

“Angus Tully, call for you.” A teacher Angus didn’t recognize had knocked on his door at nearly five to one in the morning. He groaned, trudging down the hall to the nearest phone. Getting a call was already rare for him but one at one at one a.m. was out of the question. It was even more surprising when he heard the voice of the person on the other end. 

“Tully?”

“Kountze?”

“Thank God, can you get down here?” 

“I already told you, I don’t want to come to your stupid-ass party. Shouldn’t it be ending soon, anyway?”

Teddy groaned. “I don’t want you to come and hang out, I want you to come and pick up (Y/n).”

“(Y/n)? What’re they doing there?”

“I don’t know, man. Just come get them. I don’t know how much he drank but he’s been passed out on the couch for hours. Every time I try to wake him up he just kicks me.” Angus laughed. “Just get him out of here, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Give me twenty minutes.”

Angus didn’t have a car but he knew someone who did. He knocked on the door to the teacher’s lounge where he knew Mr. Hunham would probably be watching TV with Mary. They seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Mary yelled for him to come in. 

Mr. Hunham nodded. “Mr. Tully.”

“Hello, Angus. You didn’t come all the way down here just to watch TV with us, did you? Usually you’re not alone.”

“I didn’t, actually. I was hoping I could get a ride, (Y/n)’s drunk and needs a ride home.”

Mary frowned. “(Y/n)? I didn’t think they were the type.”

Angus just shrugged. “Usually he’s not but he’s been talking to Teddy Kountze more. I think he’s the instigator here.” He stuffed his hands into his front pocket, shrugging. 

Hunham scoffed. “That boy is a devil.” 

“Oh, shush. He’s just a kid.” Mary scolded. “... even if he is a little asshole.” 

They shared a laugh, followed by Mr. Hunham groaning as he stood. “Alright, I’ll drive. But I'm staying in the car. And tell him not to vomit on my seats.” 

Angus nodded, following his teacher out. “Yes, sir!”

When they arrived Mr. Hunham parked on the street, right out front. Angus got out onto the lawn. “I’ll be right back.” Hunham nodded. 

He saw Teddy first. Teddy just scowled and pointed to a room to the right. You were exactly where Kountze said you would be, passed out on the couch. You had a bottle of something in your arms, snugly held tight against your body. Angus pulled that out first and set it on the table across from you. You grumbled softly, missing the feeling of having something in your arms, and shot your leg out to kick who you thought was Kountze. 

Luckily Angus was just out of reach and laughed in response. “(Y/n), time to wake up.” You lifted your hand to shoo him away but he persisted. “Come on,” he shook you softly. “Let’s go. Mr. Hunham’s outside.” That woke you up.

“Mr. Hunham?” Your eyes got wide. “What’s he doing here?” You sat up and Angus sat next to you, keeping you upright after a bit of sudden dizziness.

“He’s our ride.”

“I’m a bit embarrassed.” You put your flushed face in your hands, leaning your elbows on your knees.

“I’m sure he won’t judge you… Maybe just a little disappointed.” He laughed, standing back up and holding his hand out.

“No, I’m embarrassed with myself. I shouldn't have drank.” Your slurring was becoming more apparent now and Angus was sure you’d start crying if you stayed here any longer. 

“How much did you have to drink?”

You knit your eyebrows together and frowned, obviously starting to get a bit grumpy. “I don’t know. Three? Four?” 

“What? Bottles?”

“Cups.” You nodded towards a red solo on the table.

“Cups?” He laughed. “That’s it?”

You sighed, grabbing his hand and standing up. He couldn’t help notice the way you didn’t let go. Chests almost pressed together from the tight space. “Yeah, It’s my first time.” He breathed in sharply, eyes floating down.

“Really? You’ve never drank before? Mary was right about you.” 

You slapped his arm half-heartedly. “Mary knows too? Who else did you tell!?” He broke from the spell and began to lead you towards the door.

He smiled. “Only the whole school.” You groaned in response.

When you got outside, Mr. Hunham rolled down the window to begin his speech before you even had the chance to get to the car. Angus opened the door to the backseat and helped you in but you grabbed his arm when he began to back up. You tugged ever so slightly and he gave in to the weak show of force, climbing into the backseat with you. You didn’t put up a fight but neither did he. 

“... this isn’t the way to go about life. When you get to my age you…” You nodded along to whatever Mr. Hunham was saying, occasionally adding in an ‘I know,’ ‘You’re right,’ or ‘I’m sorry.’ Angus sat a bit stiffly next to you. You still had his arm in yours, hugging it as you had with the bottle. 

♡

He dropped you onto the edge of your bed before falling down beside you with a groan. He needed a moment before he went back to his room. You, slightly more awake now, slung your legs across Angus’s chest in an awkward L-shape. He let you stay like that for a moment, catching his breath and savoring this while he could. 

“Angus?” You asked softly, tilting your head to peer down at him. 

“Yeah?” He pushed your legs back off the side of the bed so he could kneel beside you and help you take your shoes off. 

“You’re so pretty, do you know that?” He paused, staring across at you, obviously shocked. Your face, though, was completely indifferent. “I mean it, you’re so beautiful. You’ve got perfect hair and perfect skin and perfect eyes. I don’t get it. You must know, right? I hope you know.”

“I-” He tried to speak but what would he say? He was still knelt down, desperately watching your face– which was still staring back innocently. Without thinking, he crawled onto the bed next to you, leaning up against the headboard. You adjusted, too, so you could continue staring at him, head on the pillow. He felt a bit hot under your gaze but he basked in the attention, he only wished he knew how to respond to make this last. To get you to look at him like this forever.  

“God! You’re just so perfect! I don’t tell you that enough but I do think it. A lot. You’re just so pretty…” 

“I don’t think you’ve ever told me.” 

He could see the fatigue slowly taking over your eyes as you kept going. “You’ve got this dopey smile,” You saw his face turn. “Not a bad dopey! Cute-dopey. It’s the kind of smile that makes me want to smile too.” Absent-mindedly you began to reach up to touch his lips, stopping centimeters from contact.

“Um, thank you.” God, that’s what he came up with? 

You giggled, though.“You’re welcome.” 

“I think you’re pretty too. I’ve been staring at the back of your head since I got to Barton. And then when Christmas break happened I was pissed I didn’t get to go home, sure, but man I was so excited when I found out you were staying too. I’m glad I get to see more of you than your hair now.”

“You’re lying.” You accused him but you were smiling. 

“I’m not, I swear!” He couldn’t help but smile too. 

“You can’t have been looking at me since you moved here because I’ve been looking at you since you moved here. And before Christmas, I don’t think we made eye contact once.” 

“Believe what you want,” He laughed. “I’m telling the truth.”

You sighed, brushed him off wistfully, and went back to longing. You spoke as if you’d forgotten the previous few exchanges. Perhaps you had. “I wish I could look at you all the time. I wish I could touch your face and your hair whenever I wanted. I wish I could–” You abruptly stopped and stared him down. Angus had to remind himself again that you were out of it. You looked as if you were trying to make a decision but the alcohol was making it impossible to choose. Angus leaned forward a bit, almost unwillingly. He hardly even noticed his movements until your fingers finally touched his face.

Your eyes flickered down, his did too. Slowly you brushed against his bottom lip. He parted his mouth slightly, cheeks becoming more red by the second. You moved onto his top lip before brushing his cheek. His eyes hadn’t left your mouth. Pulling your hand back slightly you looked up to his messy curls. Reaching up, you grabbed the hair at the back of his neck, running your hands through it. He had to stop himself from making any noise. 

“And you’ve got these big brown eyes, they’re really pretty, you know. I feel all shy when you look at me… like in the way you are now.” You sighed deeply, as if the weight of the world were on your shoulders. “God, Angus. I think I love you.” 

It took everything in him to not swoop down and kiss you right then. He was glad you were drunk so you wouldn’t remember his bright red face, but he also couldn’t help but wish your confession had been a sober one. His mouth was stuck in a small ‘o’ before he realized you were waiting for an answer. “I don’t think this is the right time.”

You cut him off before he could clarify. “What do you mean? Are you dating someone else…? I’ll wait.” Your words made him sputter out a short laugh but your face was nothing but serious. 

“That’s not what I meant. I–” 

You frowned. “Then, what do you mean?”

“I mean,” He brushed some hair from your eyes. “You’re drunk and probably won't remember any of this in the morning. How about you tell me again when you aren’t inebriated?”  

You grabbed his hand, holding it close to your chest. “Why? What if I forget? It hurts too much not to tell you…”

“I won’t forget.” He smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll remind you.” 

He kissed you on the forehead, needing something to tide him over until he could act the way he truly wanted to. You curled up on your side before looking at him expectantly. He blushed and compiled, lying down next to you but leaving a couple inches between your two bodies. 

He heard you laugh and move closer. He let out something between a moan and a gasp and you smirked in victory. Still, though, he wasn’t close enough. You reached out and grabbed his hand, setting it on your waist. 

“You never told me,” You leaned into his chest. “Do you like me back?” You sounded like a middle schooler talking to their playground crush. Angus was almost unable to respond from the grin that trapped his face. 

“Isn’t it obvious? Of course I’m in love with you too.”

[talesofesther]

tangle me in all your broken pieces (and watch me stay) | ch 1

Loki x Reader

Summary: An Asgardian god has just threatened your planet and you were called in to provide a little help. What you didn't expect was to develop a strange soft spot for said god, who hid more pain behind his cold facade than you thought possible.

A/N: Yes, this is chapter one. Yes, there are going to be more chapters. But one important thing to keep in mind with this particular series, is that the updates will not have a fixed schedule. This is a story I will update whenever I have time to write in between my other projects. Anyhow, I do hope you enjoy this random idea I had. <3

Word count: 4,2k

Masterlist

Fury came looking for you as a fail-safe. That was the simple way of putting it.

One of S.H.I.E.L.D's facilities had recently been attacked by someone who came from outside of your world; he'd taken what Fury called the Tesseract, twisted the minds of Agent Barton and Doctor Selvig, and worst of all, threatened to take over Earth. So when Fury came knocking on your door, on a rainy Saturday, you didn't have many options other than agreeing.

Rain pattered on the windows of your small apartment, the weather was rather cold today. You picked up two mugs from the cabinet, placed a bag of tea on each, and added hot water.

"I need you with me," Fury told you, taking the mug you handed to him.

You sighed, taking a seat on the armchair of your living room, "you're putting together a group of heroes. I'm not a fighter, uncle Fury, you know that."

"And I'm not asking you to be," he shook his head softly, leaning forward to place his mug on the coffee table after he took a sip, "if anything, I'll make sure to keep you away from any fights." He looked at you for a beat, and then; "but Loki has messed with the mind of one of my best agents, I cannot take that risk again, and you're the only one who can make sure it doesn't happen. Or fix it, if it does."

With that, you couldn't argue.

Your powers were something you had never asked for, never wanted, they simply happened. Your fourteen-year-old self woke up one day being able to pry into people's minds at will. You could feel their feelings if you wanted to, search recent memories if you focused long enough, and occasionally, do or fix much heavier damage. The full extent of what you could do was still somewhat of a mystery, now and then you caught yourself doing or feeling something new; just like that day when a stray cat had scared the shit out of you and you ended up exploding the can of soda on your hand.

After that incident a couple of years back, you had agreed to let S.H.I.E.L.D. study you just long enough to find out you had something along the lines of psychokinetic and telepathic abilities. Fury then had also told you that your big heart had given you empathic abilities as well; it was intended as a lighthearted joke, but you weren't so sure it was a joke anymore.

Because right now, you could feel hints of Fury's desperation just by looking at him. You nodded, "Yeah, alright. Give me a few minutes to pack."

─── ·❆· ───

S.H.I.E.L.D's Helicarrier was impressive, to say the least. It was an enormous aircraft that could literally disappear in a matter of seconds. Your nerves were still high even though you'd been aboard for a few days.

The main control room was the heart of the hive, so to speak. The place where most agents walked back and forth between the rows of computers, all overlooking the massive glass windows at the front of the aircraft. You stood just behind Fury's main control panels, leaning back on the big glass table. "Will Tony be coming too?" Your eyes roamed over the hustle and bustle of agents around you.

"He will," Fury didn't take his eyes off of the screens as he spoke, "was supposed to arrive with agent Romanoff, but we all know he likes his entrances."

A fond chuckle escaped you. Tony was a friend, you'd met him a few times because of Fury, he'd been a great help in figuring out your… condition, and you kept close contact with him ever since.

Out of the big windows in front of you, you watched as the ocean slowly drifted from view the higher you went into the sky. You could feel the familiar tingle in your stomach as you gained altitude fast. Maria Hill approached Fury not long after, informing him you were high enough to disappear, and so you did.

The sound of footsteps caught your attention and you turned around to see Natasha, Steve, and Doctor Banner walking in. A small frown appeared on your features when Steve handed ten dollars to Fury, but you didn't comment on it.

"Doctor Banner," Fury walked up and extended his hand for Bruce to shake, "thank you for coming."

The scientist looked around with the eyes of someone who hadn't known real peace in a while. You could feel a heavy wave of apprehension and uncertainty coming from him. "Thanks for asking nicely," he answered.

As they spoke, you walked over to Natasha, a small smile coming to your lips, "hey Nat."

Her green eyes lit up as soon as they caught sight of you, she was already opening her arms to pull you into a hug. "Hey, how have you been?"

You hugged her back just as tight, swinging gently from one side to the other. "Alright, you?"

"Well enough," she pulled away with a smirk already on her features and bumped your shoulder with her fist. "It's nice to have you around for a change, even if it's because the world is at risk."

You raised your hands in a half-hearted gesture of surrender while biting back a chuckle, "Point taken, I promise to visit more."

Fury called for your name and you turned to him, "I don't think you've been properly introduced to Doctor Banner." He gestured to his side and you reached out to shake Bruce's hand with a polite smile. "Banner, this is my niece."

Still holding onto your hand, he raised his eyebrows in a mix of excitement and surprise. "The telepath?" He looked from you to Fury.

You pursed your lips, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. "That's me." You wondered if the people here saw you as one of the heroes too, which of course, you were not.

"I've read your file, the range of your abilities is remarkable."

Fury placed a hand on your shoulder to catch your attention. "Why don't you show Doctor Banner the lab he'll be working on? You can entertain his curiosity then."

"Of course," you buried your hands in your pockets as you tilted your head towards the door, "follow me, Doc."

The laboratory was like a playground for scientists. Filled with all the kinds of machines and computers one could hope for, surrounded by bright white walls and even brighter artificial lights that made your eyes hurt.

As the night stretched on you ended up hanging back with Bruce in his lab. His interest in your abilities didn't die down, but you found that speaking with him about it turned out to be quite easy. He was very smart, there was no doubt about that, having extensive knowledge in areas you didn't even know existed. But he was also kind.

It didn't take long for Fury to come to inform you that they had gotten a hit on Loki's location, Germany. You shared a look with Bruce then, knowing that all there was to do now, was wait.

─── ·❆· ───

"So you can just tell what everyone is feeling all the time, and manipulate those very feelings if you want?" Bruce leaned back on one of the workstations, a look of pure bewilderment in his eyes.

You chuckled, pushing yourself up and sitting on top of one of the desks. "Well, kind of. I can feel emotions if I want to, yes. Memories even, if I can focus on the person long enough. But the manipulating part is trickier," you tried to explain to the best of your abilities, fumbling with the sleeves of your black cardigan. "I can't… take away people's emotions, feelings, but I can ease them. Dull anger, or sadness, for example. But Fury believes that if there's something else intruding on someone's mind, I'd be able to counter it. That's why I'm here."

"That's fascinating," Bruce scratched his chin in thought, "it's almost like a mix of telepathy and empathy."

You hummed, "That's been my experience, yeah."

"What about the…" Bruce gestured around, and somehow you knew exactly what he was talking about.

A smirk came to your lips. You lifted your hand, and tiny white sparks danced between your fingertips, they were barely there, looking almost like a trick of the light. Suddenly the glasses that had been resting on top of Bruce's head flew to your grasp.

A genuine laugh escaped him while he muttered; "remarkable". You couldn't help but join him as you handed him back his glasses. It felt… nice, to have someone genuinely, innocently appreciating what you could do.

Suddenly, the sight of several guards walking past the laboratory's windows caught both of your attention. In the middle of them walked a man with slick black hair, wearing some sort of armor in black, green, and golden, and a devilish smirk on his lips as he looked at you.

Your gaze locked with his for a mere second, and a gasp fell past your lips as you took half a step back. Your heart was in your throat, because even through the glass windows, you could feel an immense pain squeezing your chest and suffocating your lungs. There was raw anger there too, desperation, loss. But the pain overpowered them all. And they came from him. Loki.

You gulped, forcing your gaze away so you had a chance to breathe. "They caught him," you mumbled, still feeling lightheaded from the punch he'd just dealt to your soul.

"Yeah, they did." Bruce's voice sounded far away still.

─── ·❆· ───

Loki wasn't the only new arrival, his brother Thor was also here.

You decided to hang back while everyone discussed how to proceed, leaning against the wall of the main control room as they sat around the glass table. From the camera images displayed on the screens, you could see Loki speaking with Fury, from inside the glass cage that wasn't quite built for him; he spoke with a tone of superiority that sounded like a defense.

Thor explained something about Loki having an alien army he would bring to Earth, and that he was trying to build another portal with the help of Doctor Selvig. You heard bits and pieces, after all, you weren't here to strategize attacks. Instead, your mind drifted to what you'd felt when you briefly locked gazes with Loki. His mind seemed… messy; as if he wasn't quite the only one there.

"I don't think we should be focusing on Loki." You heard Banner say. "That guy's brain is a bag full of cats. You could smell crazy on him."

"Have care how you speak." Thor spoke up, "Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard. And he is my brother."

"You mean he's never been like this before?" You finally spoke up, pushing yourself away from the wall and taking a few steps towards Thor. Your voice drew the eyes of everyone in the room for an instant. "That he's not himself?"

"Yes, Loki has always been one for mischief but never like this. My brother is not evil." The god explained.

"He killed eighty people in two days," Natasha added, raising an eyebrow at Thor.

"He's… adopted."

"I think you might be right, about him being beyond reason," you walked up to stay beside Thor, "when they brought him in I could briefly connect with his mind and… I don't know, it wasn't right."

"You mean to say he's been enchanted?" Thor looked down at you, sparks of hope dancing around him.

You could feel everyone's unwavering gaze on you as well. Your eyebrows scrunched in thought and you fumbled with your sleeves to ease the nervousness. "Kind of, yes. I felt as if he wasn't the only one in his own mind, there was something else there, twisting his thoughts and drive." You glanced up at Thor and then at your teammates around the table, "I may be able to fix it."

A rather loud call of your name captured your attention then. You turned around to see Tony Stark walking in, along with Phil Coulson.

"You always did have a heart of gold, picking up strays and insisting on fixing broken things," the billionaire said with a smile, walking up to you in that smug way only he could pull off, as he already opened his arms.

You mimicked his smile, naturally falling into his hug.

"How have you been, kid?" Tony asked while rubbing your back. He pulled away and kept a hand on your shoulder.

"Pretty good, considering an Asgardian god decided to invade my planet." You smirked back at him, stuffing your hands in your pockets.

"And now you're playing the I can fix him card, is that what I'm gathering here?" Tony pointed a finger at you, comically narrowing his eyes.

You sighed, averting his gaze, "I'm serious, Tony. If there's something invading his mind, don't you think I'd be able to counter it? That's- that's the whole reason why I'm even here."

"I think," Tony began, "you'd be able to do that, and much more. If you actually trained your abilities like I suggested-"

A groan escaped you.

"But you haven't done that, so it's a shot in the dark." He shrugged.

"If there is a chance to help my brother, I would take it," Thor spoke up, looking around to gauge everyone's reactions.

"And what if there isn't?" Steve asked, gesturing with his hands, "You said it yourself, you can't be sure. Is this a risk we're willing to take?"

"We won't be taking risks," you were quick to reassure him, taking a step forward so you were able to lean your hands on the glass table. "All I want is a chance to speak with him, nothing more for now."

"Absolutely not." Fury walked in, his steps large and meaningful as he walked up to stand before you. "You are not getting anywhere near that lunatic."

"I can accompany her to assure her safety," Thor offered.

"Thank you, Thor, but I need to go alone." You said, then turned to look up at Fury. "You called me here to help. Let me help."

Fury tilted his head, an annoyed frown coming to his lips. You knew you'd won.

"He's in pain. So much that I could feel it through the glass windows of the lab, uncle. He's not alone in his own mind. I just wanna talk to him." You pleaded. Why you suddenly cared so much about the very person who was threatening your home, you didn't know. Maybe you did have a heart that was too big for your own good.

Fury stole a single glance towards Stark, and after the latter nodded, he turned back to you. "Five minutes," he leaned just a tad closer, looking you straight in the eyes, "nothing more."

─── ·❆· ───

You closed your eyes, took in a deep breath, held it in your lungs, and then exhaled. You stared at the door that led to Loki's cell, giving yourself yet another pep talk. And then you pushed it open.

The round, glass cage was somewhat intimidating to look at. Built to contain and to kill, if needed. The artificial lights inside were bright, a contrast to the metal walls of the outside. There was a single bench in the back of the cage, but other than that, it was bare.

Loki had his back turned to you as he paced from one side to the other, hands clasped behind his back, as if waiting for something. His black and green attire stood out under the blinding lights.

Your steps were slow and quiet, you couldn't deny the racing of your heart, punching against your ribs in fear and anticipation—yet you kept an emotionless facade.

You could tell the exact moment that Loki felt your presence. He stopped pacing, waiting for a beat until, ever so slowly, he turned around to face you. His eyes were ice cold, a pale blue that made you shiver; his smirk was nothing short of devilish, worthy of a person who knew held all the cards in his hands. Loki looked at you up and down, and took a few steps forward so he stood right against the glass, as close as he could be to you. His gaze never once wavered.

"And who would you be?"

Silent. You kept silent for several moments. The nails you previously had piercing the skin of your palm in nervousness loosened their grip, a soft breath went past your lips, and your shoulders relaxed.

No, there was no reason for you to be afraid of him. Well, that would be an understatement. After all, you could easily sense the raw power and magic flowing through his veins. But that didn't instill fear in you, and neither did his empty threats. Because right now, as you finally looked him straight in the eyes, you easily slipped into his mind, his subconscious, his memories, and feelings.

More than anything, he was hurt; had been bleeding for long. But you were glad to confirm your suspicions, he was not alone in his mind; there was a plague in him, twisting and piercing into old wounds, worsening what was already there; it drove his anger and instilled fear and desperation in him for what would happen if he failed.

Looking into his eyes, you didn't feel fear. You felt sympathy.

At last, when Loki had started to look at you with a deep frown, you told him your name.

"Agent Barton hasn't told me about you." Loki's eyes roamed your features, undoubtedly determining if you were harmless or not.

"I'm afraid we aren't that close," you told him simply, keeping your voice gentle.

A low chuckle escaped Loki's lips then, "Did you come here simply by imprudent curiosity then?" He raised his chin higher. "Have you any idea who stands before you?"

You pursed your lips and took a step closer to him. His words sounded a little muffled to your ears as you struggled to focus. There was a faint burning sensation behind your eyes, a pressure in your head that spread to your entire body until it reached your fingertips. It was both familiar and unfamiliar. You'd never used your powers to this extent.

Loki had a strong mind, there was no doubt about that. Yet briefly, you could catch glimpses, a blurred array of memories even Loki tried to push away. You watched his fall from Asgard. His descent to what he thought, hoped would be the end. Until he was found. And then there were screams of pain and cries for help that nobody answered until he was forced to give up. Nothing was clear, everything twisted and scrambled, but enough to snatch your breath away and hold your heart in a vice grip.

He felt it, you know he did. The gentle whispers of you in his mind. You could tell the exact moment. All emotion and color drained from Loki's face, he took several steps back and away from you. For the first time, he wore an expression other than smug and confident. His bright eyes were wide and glimmering under the artificial lights, lips hovering open and quivering. It was a blink, a fraction of a second and then he was back in control.

"How dare you?!" He all but growled, fists closed tightly on either side of his body as erratic breaths went past his lips and nostrils. "Who do you think you are to try and pry into my mind?"

You felt as if there were cotton balls in your throat as you gulped, your vision went a little blurry. You shouldn't be feeling this way for someone who had literally threatened your home, but all you could hear right now was that same voice of his, begging for mercy.

Without a physical connection, Loki was able to keep you out of his mind pretty easily.

You sighed heavily, closing your eyes for a beat to recompose. You looked up at him then, unable to help the softness of your features. "What happened to you?"

Loki hesitated, even though he tried to hide it. He blinked, stumbling over his words; "I think you should be more worried about what I will do to you and everyone you've ever loved, you insolent, pathetic mortal."

His threats were emptier than you thought they would be. He felt exposed and was desperately trying to defend himself.

You shifted your gaze to the cameras around the room, biting into your cheek while you considered just how stupid and reckless it was what you were about to do. With your mind, you turned the lock on the door you'd just come from. In one swift stride forward, you were able to flatten your palm against the glass walls that held Loki; and with just a bit of struggle, you had him pushed and pinned against the bench on the far side of the cage.

"What do you think you're doing?" Loki snapped, he fought against the invisible force holding him, trying to get up and lift his hands, but to no avail. "Release me this instant."

"Sorry," you walked backward, keeping your eyes on him until you reached the control panel and pushed the button that opened the glass cage, "can't do that."

"If you think for one minute that your sorry excuse of magic can hold me down-"

"I know I can't." You told him as you carefully walked inside with him. He was strong, much stronger than you, and sooner or later he'd overpower you. "Not for long at least." You stood in front of him, looking down at his enraged form sitting down on the bench. "But maybe just long enough."

Right now, as Loki looked up at you with nothing but anger in his cold eyes, his lips in a thin line, and his eyebrows pulled together; you could say you felt a little scared.

Slowly, you raised both hands. Your fingers shook as you halted your movements just short of touching him. "I promise I just want to help you," you told him quietly, your eyes never leaving his.

"I will make you regret ever walking into this room," Loki spoke through gritted teeth, the muscles on his neck straining as he tried to break free.

"Maybe," you breathed, struggling to keep him in place, before unceremoniously cupping both his cheeks with your hands.

Loki opened his lips to, most likely, throw another insult at you, yet his words died in his mouth.

With your skin touching his, your soul entangling with his, you were finally able to enter his mind freely. You closed your eyes and made quick work of dissipating the plague infesting his brain, severing the connection he had with the creature that had tortured him, and freeing his subconscious from its influence and enchantment. It was harder than you wished and easier than you expected, pulling at the strings of your heart while you worked your power through him, but it was done. Loki's body was still healing from what they'd done to him, and now his mind would follow.

You also couldn't hold yourself back from dulling his pain and anger while you were at it. Trying to offer just a bit of peace to his troubled soul.

You opened your eyes again with a heavy gasp escaping your lips. Your lungs lacked air and you could taste copper on your lips. Blinking several times, you took a single glimpse at your faded reflection on the glass walls and noticed that a steady line of blood was trickling down your nose. You'd nearly gone past your limits.

With your hands still holding onto Loki, you risked a look down at him.

It was like a wave washing to shore, soft and calm after a heavy storm. His eyes slowly faded from a pale blue to a gentle green, glistening under the light, pupils blown wide as he kept his gaze fixed on you. A soft breath went past his lips and his eyebrows softened, it was as if for a brief moment he forgot where he was, and simply basked in the absolute relief of having his mind finally free. He stood bare before you.

A single tear trickled down his cheek and landed on your thumb. You brushed it away tenderly, and you thought he almost leaned into your touch. He blinked lazily then, and you saw his walls gradually coming back up.

You felt lightheaded, and with Loki coming back to himself, you took it as your cue to leave him.

Stumbling on your feet, you made your way out. You pushed the button and closed the glass door again.

Loki hadn't moved, even though you were not holding him in place anymore. He stayed seated, knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the bench and kept his gaze ahead, unfocused.

Once again, you touched the glass wall with your fingertips. It was indeed pathetic, that you felt a surge of protectiveness, of worry even, for the god who had threatened your planet.

"For what it's worth," you began quietly.

Loki's eyes drifted up to your face. His expression unreadable.

"I'm sorry for what you've been through." With that, you gave him a tight-lipped smile, and left.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 2 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

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[hard-core-super-star]

Heyhey, may I request something like a reader who is Clint's daughter, sucks at archery and thinks she's a disappointment to Clint. Seeing this situation and not really knowing what to do, Kate decides to help reader with some archery lessons. The lessons really help reader, but at the same time they are a distraction and the BIGGEST test of self-control not to kiss Kate while she talks about archery and invades personal space to show how it’s done.

Like– who would be 100% focused with Kate so close?? 😭😭😭

can you see right through me? [K.Bishop]

pairing: kate bishop x barton!reader

summary: you're notoriously bad at archery and somehow even worse at keeping yourself together around a certain kind-eyed archer.

warnings: none, just fluff with a side of romantic tension; kate being a flirt without realizing; very platonic touching [...not]; me pretending like i completely understand how archery works

wordcount: 1.7k

a/n: for every one fic i write where kate is confident and cocky, i have to write another one where she's dorky and awkward and confident and cocky. that's just the law of the universe. this request was a lot of fun to write so thank you. hope you enjoy <3 [also, it would take a ridiculous amount of self-control to stay focused around kate's goofy little smile]

* * * * * * *

You wouldn’t say you’re the world’s worst archer but you’re definitely close to the top of the list. It’s something that shouldn’t bother you, and maybe it wouldn't if you were anybody else. Unfortunately, you’re Hawkeye’s oldest daughter and you also happen to be the absolute worst at archery.

Even your youngest brother has better aim than you and he’s not even strong enough to pick up a bow.

Your dad swears your lack of skill doesn’t bother him but it certainly bothers you. Especially when it results in him taking on Kate Bishop as his protege instead of you. 

The worst part is, Kate’s incredibly sweet so you can’t even hate her for being everything you’re not. Her love for archery is genuine, and so is her admiration for Clint.

And, okay, fine, maybe she also happens to be attractive and caring and far too charming for her own good.

You hate to admit it but you have the biggest crush on the brunette archer and it’s only gotten worse since she kindly offered to teach you how to properly shoot a bow. Your dad complained, not because he didn’t want you to learn, but because he was offended that you seriously thought Kate would be a better teacher than him. (You didn’t have the heart to tell him the real reason you accepted the brunette’s offer)

So, against your better judgment, you’ve been hanging out with Kate every day, letting her talk your ear off about the ‘proper techniques’ involved and what the best bows for beginners are. She’s clearly more excited about all of this than you are but getting to see her so often isn’t something you’re going to complain about.

“y/n, you’re not even listening.” Kate’s teasing tone brings you back to the matter at hand. Well, more like the bow in your hand.

“Sorry,” you mutter, hoping she can’t notice the nervousness in your stance. 

She does, unfortunately for you, because she’s far too observant despite her scattered attention span. What she doesn’t realize, though, is that she's the reason for said nervousness. 

“You’re shaking too much,” she comments. “Let me help you.”

You open your mouth to tell her you don’t need her help but all your words die in your throat the second she steps closer to you. 

She’s trying to be helpful, you know that, and yet she achieves the complete opposite. Her front presses up against your back as her hands land on top of yours to stabilize your movements. “Relax. You’re trying to guide the arrow, not control it.”

You attempt to listen to her advice but relaxing is the last thing on your mind right now. Every muscle in your body is acutely aware of the brunette’s presence which causes your heart to beat faster than should ever be possible. The position you’re in doesn’t help and soon, you really do start shaking from the tension of drawing the arrow back.

She counts down for you, something that should not be as attractive as it is, and you finally let go of the bowstring and shoot the arrow into the target. A target that you miss by several feet.

You can’t even be disappointed in yourself because you’re too busy trying to regain your breath the second Kate finally steps away from you. 

“Hey, at least you’re not hitting the wall anymore!” She says in what’s now become her signature ‘cheering you up’ voice.

It makes her sound ridiculous but it also makes you smile so you don’t have the heart to make fun of her for it. “I appreciate it but it’s going to take years for my aim to get better than this.”

“Oh, come on.” Her exasperated words are accompanied by an eyeroll and a step toward you that makes your breath catch in your throat. “You've already improved so much. Give me one more week and I promise you’ll be hitting that bullseye.”

You take advantage of her proximity to hand the stupid bow back to her. “You're doing that thing again.”

“What thing?” She asks, her eyebrows furrowing as she tilts her head slightly.

“The thing where you get too confident right before totally falling on your ass.”

She does her best to look annoyed but the pink hue that tints her cheeks gives her away far too quickly. “Keep talking like that and I’m canceling the lessons.”

“Wow, what a shame.”

You manage to successfully break her this time and she bursts out laughing, the sound setting free hundreds of butterflies inside your stomach. There are a lot of things to love about Kate and her laugh might be at the top of the list. (Right below her smile and her incredibly comforting hugs…not that you’ve ever noticed or anything.)

“Alright, I’ll make you a deal,” she says while getting into position to do some shooting of her own. “If I hit the bullseye three times in a row, we’re staying for fifteen more minutes.” 

“And if you miss?” You ask, knowing damn well the chances of her missing are close to zero.

“If I miss…I’ll take you out to dinner instead.”

You’ve never wanted her to prove you wrong more badly than at this moment. You don’t say that out loud, though, you don’t even say anything. You just shake your head at her and do your best not to give away how much you adore her silly antics.

The thought that she’s genuinely flirting with you crosses your mind but you instantly push it away, too afraid of getting hurt to entertain the idea for too long. You’ll take what you can get and if all Kate gives you are stupid flirty jokes then that’s all you need. Hoping for more can’t end well when it comes to the brunette.

Your eyes are glued to her frame while she nocks and draws her first arrow, her muscles straining through the fabric of her purple shirt. You know she knows you’re closely watching every move she makes and the self-assured smile that graces her face has you thinking much different thoughts.

Thoughts that are shot right out of your mind as Kate hits the bullseye not three times in a row but five because she’s an annoying overachiever when she wants to be. You’d be pissed if you were unaware of the way her eyes light up with genuine excitement at her success.

“We get it, you’re the world’s greatest archer.” Your dad would disown you if he ever heard you speak those words but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him…or at least that’s what you hope.

“Don’t sound so jealous, baby.”

Your legs shake the tiniest bit as you approach her again, taking the bow back into your hands with a huff. “Whatever. Shouldn’t you go fetch your arrows or something?”   

“You sure you can handle shooting on your own?” It comes across as another one of her usual teasing comments but her eyes give away her sincerity. She truly does want to help you do well even if it means you won’t need her help anymore.

“You sound like my dad. I’ll be fine, Kate.”

The comparison distracts just enough to stop her from putting up a fight. She walks away toward the target full of her arrows and you walk a few feet away to find a new target to inevitably miss.

You go through the motions Kate patiently taught you, taking in slow breaths and forcing yourself to focus. You’re not fully focused on yourself though. Rather, you visualize the kind-hearted archer and repeat what you’ve seen her do a thousand times at this point.

Time seems to slow down as your eyes hone in on the bullseye and you let the arrow fly. It soars through the air and misses the bullseye by a few inches. But you finally managed to hit the target instead of the wall behind it or the floor in front of it.

You actually did it.

And there’s only one person to thank for that.

“Kate!” You throw the bow down onto the ground in your excitement, your eyes searching for the brunette only to find her already looking at you with the most gorgeous smile on her face.

“You did it!”

She opens her arms for you and you waste no time in running toward her, crashing into her body with a laugh. Her arms slide down your waist and before you know it, she’s picking you up and spinning you around in a giddy haze.

You wrap your legs around her waist without a second thought before looking down at her. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice slightly breathless from your moment of celebration.

She instantly shakes her head, strands of her soft yet messy hair waving around in the process. “That was all you, y/n. I knew you could do it.”

You’re ready to argue back and insist you’d be lost without her but you make the mistake of letting your eyes wander for a second too long.

Maybe it’s the excitement or the adrenaline still pumping through your veins or maybe it’s Kate herself. You don’t know what it is that makes you work up the courage to finally kiss her, you just know it’s the only thing you want right now.

So, you do it.

You lean in and press your lips to hers in a way that borders on desperate. If she notices, she has no complaints about it because she kisses you back just as passionately. And nothing has ever felt as right as this.

You reluctantly pull away from her and attempt to catch your breath. Something that completely fails due to the way Kate is looking at you. She’s got that soft look in her eyes that can only mean one thing. “So…I’m guessing you like me?”

Yup, there it is. 

“You’re a dork.”

“Hmm…maybe.” She sneaks in another kiss that you happily accept. “But this dork would love to take you on a date. If you want.”

“I do want that…but only if you’re paying.” You joke before she sets you back down on the ground.

“Golddigger.”

“Shut up.”

[cherlawa-panna]

Barney Barton META: Childhood

This isn't exactly the META, more like a big note with my thoughts about Barney's personality during his childhood. Given that Clint's past, and Barney's past as well, is changed too often in the comics and it's confusing to understand what's going on, I'm going to take the bits that I think are important and squeeze it together. Because if I wanted to put everything in order logically, it would be impossible - his agenda changes too often.

I'll only talk about their lives before their parents' deaths and their first years in the circus. Barney's personality changes dramatically as he gets older and I don't want to write too much in one post.

Dedicated to @carcrash429 and @hawkzeyes. I love you <3

TW: Mentions of child abuse, violence, underage drinking

1. What kind of child was Barney?

The first thing worth noting is that despite the constant changes in Barney's personality, the authors always try to emphasize his role in Clint's story — as one who is "the worse brother," the "rotten" one who causes problems and is a schemer. The bad brother who is the opposite of the good brother. Two sides of the same coin — you know the deal.

Honestly, only Hawkeye Vol.3 showed Barney in some way as "morally better" than his brother. Everywhere else, it's emphasized that he's the worse version of Clint. You know the deal, Clint is the good-shoe guy, and Barney is the worst thing that ever existed. But why?

As we know, childhood plays a crucial role in shaping a person. To truly understand Barney, we need to delve into his early years and explore what kind of child he was. So let's start it, shall we?

- VIOLENT

A recurring trope we see in Clint's childhood memories is Barney teaching him something. I'll mention about this later in the post, but for now, let's focus on the most significant skill he taught Clint, which reveals a lot about Barney himself: he taught Clint how to fight.

(Hawkeye 2012 #12)

Not the self-defense way where you hit someone and run away. Not the stereotypical superhero kind where you fight to defeat someone because you're the good guy and they're the bad guy. No, Barney taught him how to fight in a way that would hurt, how to knock someone down so that they wouldn't be able to stand on their feet anymore.

(Hawkeye 2012 #15 & #21) [rip photo limit]

If someone attacks you, you show no mercy. An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. Beat them so they won't want to hurt you anymore.

(Hawkeye 2012 #19)

If there’s no one to defend you, you have to defend yourself. Barney started teaching Clint how to fight after Clint attempted to attack their father. It’s clear that Barney is the reason why his brother even knows how to hurt people. However, it was never explained why Bernard knows how to fight or where he learned this skill. And that's understandable; this flashback is about our golden boy, not about his problematic brother.

To understand why Barney might know how to fight, we need to explore his relationship with violence as a child.

He is an example of how trauma can make you angry—at what happened and what continues to happen. As a child still living with his parents, Barney is filled with hatred towards their father. This contrasts with Clint, who, for a long time, was the "good child" trying his best to earn his father's affection and better treatment.

(Solo Avengers 1988 #2)

Bernard was a "smart-mouth brat" who didn’t hesitate to speak back, even though he knew the consequences of doing so. Even better, this little guy wanted to beat his dad up so badly. Clint would never consider acting this way (until the events of Hawkeye Vol. 4, but I'll discuss that later). And it also seems that this wasn’t the first time Barney had behaved like this.

I have a theory that Barney likely had conflicts with other adults as well, mostly because of his statement in Solo Avengers 1988 #2 panel, where he says, "I'll show them all." This implies that he probably didn't want to take revenge against JUST his father. The way I interpret it is that his father wasn't the only person who treated him badly. We can interpret this in different ways: maybe he was talking about his bullies, maybe teachers or anybody who ever treated him badly. Who knows?

Avengers: Roll Call highlights how different their approach to their father was. Barney is explicitly described as being cynical and resentful as a child. In fact, he is described as a bitter kidwho took of his frustation on Clint by bullying him.

And his different approach to Harold is visible. Barney he has never been shown to say anything positive about their father. True, Clint also hated Harold, but as shown earlier, Clint for some time hoped he'd change, whereas Barney never believed in it. He always saw their father as a scumbag.

(Hawkeye: Blindspot #1)

His hatred for his father and how he was treated, naturally influenced his behavior in childhood, which you could see before. And we know he wasn't a "good boy" in any ways. Like for example, in Blindspot, Clint mentions that Barney was never the smarter of the two and believed that sometimes you need to fight dirty.

This panel illustrates that Bernard believed that the best way to resolve conflicts wasn't through calm, peaceful ways but by fighting dirty. It paints him as someone who often relied more on brute force. Because, in his eyes, it is an easier and more proven way to deal with problems. He saw it from his father and most likely from others that it was the best way; it always worked on him and Clint after all. 

Barney is depicted as a child who has no problem with being aggressive or violent, as shown in Hawkeye (2012) even towards his brother. Yes, while his intent was to provoke Clint, stir him up, and push him to act, the fact remains that Barney still resorted to violence.

Additionally, Barney used violence against Clint because he knew that this was the most effective way to provoke a reaction from him. By mimicking their father, he wanted to trigger Clint's deep-seated rage and bitterness—emotions that were already boiling beneath the surface.

Barney knew that Clint, fueled by anger and resentment towards their father at this moment, would respond to this. It’s likely that Barney didn’t spend much time thinking what he should do; he simply resorted to the method he knew best.

Despite his hatred for his father, he still copy him in some ways, and this behavior pattern stayed with him. Barney struggles to express his emotions or wants verbally, something that continues into his adult life. He rarely communicates his thoughts directly, instead, his feelings are often showed through his actions. This tendency is mostly evident in how he expresses his anger, which is often in violence.

He never fully learned healthier ways. While joining the army may have helped him develop some emotional control, his involvement in the Trickshot "business" clearly ruined it lmao.

Before I expand further on Barney's ability to fight, I want to finish the subject about their father (because I started it and I want to finish it. I know it makes this post very chaotic, but I can't help it).

-AFRAID

In Hawkeye (2012) there is a noticeable shift in the Bartons brothers. Barney becomes more calm, while Clint got increasingly bitter. It’s almost as if they’ve swapped their attitudes.

This is particularly evident in a scene where Clint attacks their father.

Initially, I thought Clint was solely focused on his father during this scene. However, it wasn���t until I noticed Barney’s eyes—fixed on Clint—that I realized he was also looking at him. He would first glance at Barney and then shift his focus to their father. Remember this, because it will be important later.

So let's focus on Barney in this moment (because this is a post about him, duh). Specifically when he says "Clint."

While we might interpret this as a warning to prevent Clint from doing something stupid, because Barney might have known it would upset him and make him do something reckless. But based on Barney's reaction afterwards, you can get the impression that it was the first time when Clint did something like that.

At that moment during dinner, Barney probably shouldn’t have know that Clint would react this way. So this "Clint" warning doesn't make any sense. Given that Clint was known to be a well-behaved child and Barney was his polar opposite, we have to look elsewhere for an explanation. And I'll rush you with my theory.

Since we know from All-New-Hawkeye, Barney was the one who always stood up for his brother (for example: Barney took the blame when they were suppose to work, but they sneaked in to see a perfomance)-

-then Clint might have been looking at Barney, hoping he would speak up against their father. Since he has been "obedient" so far, it’s reasonable to think that Barney might have developed a habit of standing up for him. After all, Barney didn't care about their father's opinions and hated his guts, so he could also speak on Clint's behalf just to piss their father off.

But when Clint realized that Barney had no intention of that, he reacted himself, which, as I mentioned earlier, was something he had never done before.

That's why I think the "Clint" could be interpreted as "Clint, not this time." Especially since Barney appears resigned to me.

Now you might be wondering: Why didn't Barney react? Why did Barney change his attitude? The answer is simple! This whole situation happened after Clint lost his hearing.

Let's take a closer look at this: Barney in Hawkeye (2012) is much calmer than in earlier comics showing him as a child. Here, we see that he's trying to take care of his brother (like when he came to Clint's room after the whole incident and brought an ice pack for the bruises). I think he stopped being so "rebellious" at home to not upset their father. Probably out of fear; if their father was capable to beat Clint so badly that he lost his hearing, what else might he be capable of?

So it's only logical for Barney to temper his normal behavior.

-A Troublemaker

Let's return to the topic of fighting: We can see that he learned how to fight so he could defend himself from his father. And due to his previously mentioned behavior, we can get the impression that he engaged in fights very often as a child.

He must have learned these skills from somewhere, so it’s clear he picked them up outside the home.

How did he learn? Who did he learn from? I don't know! It was never shown or mentioned where he learned all this, but I have theories.

Personally, I think Barney got himself in the wrong crowd during his childhood. Why?

Barney's main 'thing' in the comics is that he was in his brother's shadow and wanted to outshine him. And seriously, this is one of the main reasons why Barney hated his brother when he was in Dark Avengers lol. I honestly believe that their parents, especially after Clint lost his hearing, focused more on the good behaved younger brother, which may have led Barney to seek attention elsewhere. As a troublemaker, Barney likely engaged in stupid and dangerous behavior to gain the approval of others—behavior that fits his character trope. And I'm talking about drinking alcohol and stealing candy from the store.

Barney was shown twice drinking alcohol without flinching. While it’s possible he started drinking occasionally because their father did the same, I believe it’s likely that he also picked up this habit from other kids.

Adult Barney in the comics is portrayed as a charismatic guy with notable leadership skills. That's why I think that he definitely had a lot of childhood friends and wasn't a loner. However, he probably was not as popular as he wanted and due to his difficult personality (his bad temper), he certainly did not have stable friendships. This means there’s a good chance Barney fell in with the wrong crowd and because out of desperation to be liked, he would definitely do stupid things.

This kid was good with people. He was a fast-talker and had the ability to easily persuade people. Like, he successfully convinced Carson to take in two orphans from an orphanage. C'mon, he clearly had skills.

Barney is a manipulative bastard, who had a natural knack for playing people like a fiddle. I don't think I need to provide much evidence for that; after all he was in the mafia and held a high position there as an undercover FBI agent. That says it all.

The beginnings of his manipulating and persuading tactics began in childhood. We see in that infamous panel how he used his brother to do his chores. Of course, Clint started it on his own, hoping it would prompt Barney to stop being such an asshole. But you can bet that Barney did everything in his power to ensure Clint continued to do his chores. You can see it in his smirk.

(Solo Avengers 1988 #2)

From Avengers: Roll Call, we also know that Barney was bored and unloaded his anger on Clint by bullying him. Does this make Barney a villain evil brother? No. Based on other Clint's memories, he wasn't abusive, he was simply an asshole. And Clint, desperate for any form of affection, ended up in a this mix with Barney. It's a recipe for disaster.

Another intriguing detail worth mentioning is that Barney clearly had a thing or two on his conscience. We can see from the interaction between him and Jacques when the old man tried to persuade him into stealing.

"But you, you're a scrapper, Barney. Something tells me you know what it takes to survive"

So we know he wasn't an innocent child then. And Jacques was aware of this and knew that Barney would not refuse such offer. Of course, it can be said that he knew survival techniques from the orphanage, since as we know, the life in there was not sunshine and rainbows. But as we know from their life, their hardest lessons in survival came from their father. For years, Barney has learned how to play dirty to survive, even more than Clint. As Barney himself reflected in Hawkeye: Blindspot, he was the "Tricky One."

Did he steal before? Possible. Maybe he stole things in the orphanage. Or maybe candies from the store like I said before. No matter what, we know that he wasn't a good child.

-ENVIOUS

Since we’re discussing Barney’s involvement with stealing for circus, it’s worth noting that his agreement was fueled by jealousy. Because Clint got more attention and could do something better than him. This jealousy was never about wanting to be a performer/archer himself—contrary to what some people in fandom might think, Barney never showed any desire to be a circus attraction like his brother. In fact, when Swordsman offered them the chance to be his assistants, Bernard immediately refused.

He was simply envious of the attention Clint received and didn’t care about the circus itself. This jealousy made him more willing to engage in thefts—he was driven by a desire to be better than his brother in something. And well, being a tricky was one of the few things Barney excelled at.

2. What kind of brother was Barney?

-A TEACHER

The fact that Barney took care of his brother is already known from the post. He taught him everything from silly things like tossing a coin into a bottle, to more practical skills such as driving a car (possibly even a motorcycle) and how to talk with women. This shows that Barney genuinely cared for Clint and didn't want him to be a loser in life. Which makes sense since Bernard was in some way his caretaker after their parents deaths.

-A PROTECTOR

But more of him being "a caring big brother" was shown in All-New Hawkeye. While I don't like Hawkeye All-New, I do appreciate how it delves into Clint and Barney’s past.

Barney is the one who goes to their foster father and took the blame, because he did not want this bastard to hurt Clint.

He was also the one who offered to earn money for Clint so his brother could focus on learning archery instead and wouldn't be kicked out of the circus.

He repeatedly shouldered every responsibility and tried to protect him.

As previously mentioned, when Barney first got involved in "work" for Carson, his initial motivation was jealousy of the attention Clint was receiving and a desire to prove his own worth. However, as time went on, Barney became less enthusiastic about the thefts but felt compelled to continue. He knew that stopping could lead to them being throwed out from the circus—the only place where they could call a "home". And despite everything, he was determined not to drag Clint into this mess too.

In Hawkeye Vol. 3, it’s noted that Barney encouraged Clint to pursue his education ever since they escaped from the orphanage. I interpret this as Barney recognizing that life in the circus was neither secure nor ideal. He was not emotionally attached to this place, viewing it merely as a temporary situation. Barney wanted Clint to have more opportunities beyond the circus, which contrasted sharply with his brother belief that the future was bound there.

(That’s why I dislike the trope in fanfics where Barney is portrayed as someone who would let Clint to die because of circus. NO. While joining the circus was initially Barney’s idea, they stayed because it was their only option at the time. Barney would always choose his brother over the circus. He only left because he was fed up with living that way and saw no way to get Clint out, since Clint was too stubborn.)

What’s interesting to me is that Barney seems to have stopped stealing for the circus once he became an adult, considering their conversation after Clint was offered the chance to join to the "business".

(I KNOW that this comic was made before All-New Hawkeye and that’s why Barney reacted this way. BUT I’ll interpret it however I want, and there's nothing you can do about it.)

I don’t know why Barney stopped, but perhaps when he became an adult, he was able to take on more demanding jobs in the circus and no longer had to steal to pay for their upkeep (plus, Clint started performing and earning money). And as we can see, Barney doesn’t want Clint to steal. Even though Barney had do the same thing as a child to keep them in the circus, he didn't want Clint to fall into that same trap.

-A CARETAKER

FINALLY, I’d like to shift the focus to Barney’s role as a caretaker for his brother, particularly during their childhood, even before they ended up in the orphanage and Barney had to fully assume the role of guardian. Specifically, I want to delve into Barney’s responsibilities a caretaker when Clint lost his hearing.

I don’t have comic panels to back up my words because the comics don’t delve deeply into Clint’s past as a deaf child. However, I’ll draw on real-life knowledge to support my points. Although I’m not a sibling of a deaf person, but I have deaf friends and have read a lot of psychological studies to better write the dynamics of Clint in his family lol.

Sometimes a hearing sibling, often under parental influence, takes on the roles of caregiver, rehabilitator, or translator for their deaf sibling. They're often actively involved in therapeutic processes, taking on numerous responsibilities related to helping their deaf sibling in their everyday life.

Why do I believe Barney had such a role? The answer is simple: Barney knows ASL since he was a child.

I know it doesn't immediately meant that he had this kind of resposibility. But hear me out. We don’t know if their parents learned ASL and how Clint learned it, but one thing is certain: Barney learned it with him. Depending on how we imagine the situation, Barney could have acted as a communicator between Clint and their parents, as well as with the outside world. I've read about cases where deaf kids learn sign language, and hearing siblings often pick up the language better than their parents. This often leads to the siblings acting as translators between parents and deaf child.

Another evidence is that he was also present during Clint's visit to the doctor.

Barney probably really wanted to be present during this, but why did his parents let him? I find this strange. Maybe they just expected Barney to help take care of his brother?

This certainly made Clint more dependent on his brother.

Clint clearly was dependent on him, since he always consistently influenced Clint's life decisions. Why did Clint run away from the orphanage? Because it was Barney's idea. Why did Clint join the circus? Because it was Barney's idea. Why didn't Clint leave the circus when he discovered its true nature? Because Barney said it was the only way they would survive.

Why did Clint later want to leave the circus despite his reluctance? Because Barney wanted to leave.

As Barney put it in All-New Hawkeye, "Where I go, Clint goes." Clint's life revolved around his older brother for many years. Mainly because after their parents' death, he only had Barney. But even before that, we can feel that Barney had a significant role in his life.

For instance, we see this during the moment they received the news of their parents' passing.

Barney only needed a few seconds to comprehend what happened before he immediately focused his attention on Clint, ignoring his own feelings at the moment. Maybe he wasn't fully aware at the time, but he felt from that moment on he would have to take care of Clint completely.

We need to be aware that Barney wasn't an ideal brother for such a role. He was full of anger, bitterness and of his own problems that he couldn't fully address due to their situation. He was just a kid himself. Barney was thrust into the role of a parent and teacher when he himself needed a parent and teacher. His attempt at "raising" Clint was a series of trial and error because he had no idea what he was doing.

But despite being a troubled child, Barney did a good job taking care of Clint, at least considering what Clint says about him in Blindspot.

I know many fans are angry at Barney for leaving Clint, but I see it as a moment when he finally did something for himself. He accepted that Clint was mature enough to decide for himself. Besides, him leaving Clint's life was good for Clint because if he had stayed, his brother probably would have never left Carson (or he would have joined the military with him) and never found himself. Clint relied on his brother for so long and he needed to be on his own for a while to find his place in the world.

3. The summary

Barney was hot-headed, extremely bitter, and was the most angry kid ever. But he also adapted well to the situation imposed on him and tried to help Clint adapt as well. We know anger often stems from fear, and to me, Barney is a scared child who doesn't know what to do but still wanted to do something.

And that's all I wanted to write about his childhood. Was Barney an angel? No. Was he the worst brother in the world? Also no. Does he need therapy? Absolutely.

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

What Needs to Be Done

Summer of Bad Batch | Week 13 | Prompt: Crashing Hard

Summary: Crosshair was so sure he made the right choice, the only choice... But now he has doubts.

POV: Crosshair

Rating: PG

(Word Count: 650)

Notes: I've been wanting to delve more into what Crosshair might have gone through in season 2 before "The Outpost," especially since I think his confession to Hunter of "I've done things. I've made mistakes" refers to far more than just the Imperial missions we saw him on. I might expand on this storyline in the future; for now, here's a short little ficlet since there's only so much Crosshair angst I can write at the moment.

"CT-9904, report to Captain Dask for your next mission."

The operation involved relocating the inhabitants of Quwan to an Imperial holding facility to await the construction of a factory on their homeworld, a factory they would man in service to the Empire. Those who did not appreciate the opportunity, those who resisted, were not given a second chance, and so the people learned very quickly not to resist. The families cried as their homes were burned to make way for the factory; the children cried as they were hustled onto ships by armed troopers. Crosshair had completed operations very similar to this before; but for some reason, this time he heard Hunter's voice echoing through his mind: Crosshair, I've seen what the Empire's doing, occupying planets and silencing anyone who stands against them. You know it's not right.

But it didn't matter what he thought was right. "Good soldiers follow orders," he thought to himself, though the words had started to grow stale. "We do what needs to be done," he repeated like a mantra, drowning out the memory of Hunter's plea.

******

He heard the rumors, whispers about an attack on Rampart's Venator, intel extracted that proved instrumental in causing Rampart's demise. The Defense Recruitment Bill was passed, but Rampart was gone. And while no one had been able to ID the infiltration team, Crosshair listened to the details of the attack, and he knew who had done it. "They were fools, they won't let themselves see the bigger picture," he told himself, ignoring the painful wrenching in his gut at the reminder of his old squad, though the traitorous thought crossed his mind that he wished he had been with them, wished he was with his brothers now.

******

"Three CTs have gone AWOL and were recently spotted in the market district," the lieutenant addressed the hand-picked squad. "You are to apprehend them. One chance to surrender, one chance only. That is all."

"Traitors," he scoffed to himself, pushing down his unease upon learning that the CTs in question had been part of his detachment during their most recent operation on Vurun. He knew nothing about them, they hadn't even spoken to him the entire mission... so why did he worry about what he might have to do? And why did wish he could have left too? Going AWOL was pointless; they were tracked down soon enough.

"Traitor," he thought again, carefully aiming as one of them tried to run, though his finger trembled on the trigger...

Cody weighed on his mind, haunted his dreams for weeks afterwards...

******

He waited outside the ship preparing to depart for Barton IV; there was no point standing any longer than he had to inside the ship with all the other clones who always ignored him. A group of unarmored clones passed by, questioning an Imperial officer about forced retirement. He knew more clones were being decommissioned, but he wasn't concerned. That wouldn't happen to him. He was useful to the Empire. He had purpose as a soldier.

And he tried not to think about the long years stretching before him, serving as a soldier until the day he died, no friends, brothers gone, all alone.

******

Mayday.

Gone.

He had served as a soldier until the day he died, had outlasted most of his friends, all his brothers gone, and the lieutenant was now ordering Crosshair to leave him... to leave him all alone.

Crosshair had believed the Empire offered him purpose.

He didn't believe it anymore.

"Lieutenant," Crosshair said, the only warning he was willing to give.

He released all his anger and doubts as he avenged Mayday, and suddenly found that this release had sapped all his strength, sapped all his belief in purpose, and he collapsed, no longer caring what happened to him.

I... It needed to be done, was his final thought as the darkness closed in around him.

@summer-of-bad-batch

[journalsouppe]

Professor Layton and the Spectre’s Call!! I actually discovered ordering the game from the UK with shipping was actually cheaper than ordering the American version of the game, there were no major differences that I could tell as they still had the original English voice actors.

I enjoyed this game!! Not my top favorite installment but I still had a great time and loved the new characters. The puzzles were well designed and had nice scaled difficulty and the mini games were really neat too. The Eternal Diva references were so blatant lmfao but I’m excited for Miracle Mask! I was also super exhausted when writing the summary so sorry there’s so many errors and I use the word fun a million times ToT

The Descole and Tea sticker are from JordyDrawsMerch! All other stickers are from Daiso. Writing typed below!

Rating: 8.3

Played: Sp 2024

Port: DS on 3DS

Favorite? Y

Replayable? Y

Recommend? Y

Series: Professor Layton

Comments

Emmy and BABY LUKE!!

OH THANK GOD IT’S CHRISTOPHER ROBIN MILLER

Ngl im so excited to watch the anime, I love the animation sm

Oh Layton is not taking Claire’s death well at all

I love how animated the background now is!!

Beautiful music as always

Does Clark have the same VA as Dmitri lol

THE WORLD WILL END? Damn Luke

The specter looks like one of those little kingdom hearts guys

Luke’s been a LaytonMobile hater since day one lmao

Luke is especially funny in this game

Layton taking Luke to the black market is so wild

THE PUPPET PLAY IS ADORABLE

I’m going to fight aunt taffy

Ooo we get to play as Emmy

Holy shit Emmy

GIRL FROG

Emmy asking if Layton always pokes lamps he sees is making me think he physically touches everything the player taps

The convo with the meowing man???

CHELMEY AND BARTON

Based anti-cop npc

THE DYNAMITE WORKS LMAO

Is Hershel gonna get a cask of amantillado’d T^T

The canals are so pretty i like the design of misthallery

Oh i do not like the police chief

I LOVE YOU EMMYYY

Grosky is very funny

Omg the cliff death police cover up reminds me of killer frequency which i just watched a playthrough of

FUCK JAKES

Where’s phoenix when you need him

JAIL BREAK JAIL BREAK!!!

I love descole’s voice

YAAA LADDER VS STEP LADDER

NESSIE???

The story book stories and animations are so CUTE!!

I wonder if Naiya was added to the game to hit at the Eternal Diva

This kinda reminds me of a pokemon movie but I don’t remember which one it was

^^ it was pokemon heroes when latias and latios were caught ^^;

AN OCARINA!!!

Creepy fucking factory music ToT

Oh dear. I seem to have stepped on a hexagonal spanner

Descole always serving massive cunt

Woah the golden garden is beautiful

Ohh so that’s why Luke was fork life certified in plvspw

ZAMN T^T

THE WAY THE SPRITES WALK KILLS ME LOL

I really like these little episodes from others POVS! ^_^

Summary

This was such a fun origin story for Luke and Layton. Very much a classic Layton game with world ending machinery and gorgeous environment design. I really liked both Emmy and Descole, there’s a more serious undertone than with Don Paolo as the main villain (even though I do love Don Paolo). Emmy is amazing!! I was afraid she would be sidelined like Flora was but I’m glad to she stands her ground and does what she wants to do. I alos like how we got to go on our own adventure as her to London, she’s a character that doesn’t need to rely on Hershel to solve everything. Meeting Luke was great, loved his blank stare. It was fun seeing his origins and how Clark and Hershel knew each other. I’m curious how the prequels will play into the New World of Steam, especially now that Luke’s family have stories and sprites (unlike in the original trilogy). Loved the ACAB story, v nice to play while I’m still so mad at what’s happening to university students currently. Descole was so fun, I am obsessed with his outfit and personality. Unfortunately I was spoiled on who he is but I’m very excited to learn more. I think similar to Ace Attorney, the fourth installment is that last game in the classic 2D style, which is sad but PLvsPW makes me very hopeful about 3D Layton. The overall story was fun, I really liked the sub plot about the Ravens - that was really fun (i was so tired writing this omfg). I wish we got a little more backstory on the rich guy who died, I feel like there’s more to the story. OO I loved the little episodes, especially the one about Chelmey. They added a lot of fun context and gave more life to the NPCs. Such a fun and classic Layton game, I can’t wait to play Miracle Mask! (And read the light novels). This wasn’t my favorite Layton game but I still really loved it and had a great time and loved the puzzles — that’s all I want from PL!

[sjsmith56]

Level 42

Summary: One shot. A former guard from the Siberian HYDRA facility tells Bucky a secret that sends him back to the structure to find someone.

Length: 5.7 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Nick Fury, Thor, Yelena Belova, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, OMC, several OFC, OCC.

Warnings: Memories of mistreatment, forced cryostasis on non-super soldiers, lost love, anger, angst, Bucky making a decision that you may or may not agree with.

Author notes: For some reason I had a bit of an earworm moment that spurred me to write this story.  I heard Level 42's Something About You and kept hearing it or seeing the number 42 in weird places.  So this is what came from all of those different exposures. I thought long and hard about Bucky’s decision at the end. In a sense, his former handler paid for the decisions of those before him.

🎶 🧊 ❤️

The drive to the prison wasn't a pleasant one for Bucky, as he sat in the passenger seat of Sam's truck.  Even though he appeared to be tapping his fingers to the music playing from his phone, Sam could see the tension increase the closer they came to their destination.  They were only going there to see someone from Bucky's past, his HYDRA past, on a request from the person.  At first, when the request was initially made, Bucky said no.

"The man tormented me," he explained to Fury, who called him into his office to pass on the official request.  "He was abusive verbally, physically, and mentally.  I don't want to see him."

"Well, he says he has information for you and only for you," replied the director.  "It could be a way to get some closure on that time in your life."

"He has nothing to say to me that I want to hear," insisted Bucky.  "Nothing."

"Alright, I'll notify the prison administration that you refuse to see him." 

That was a week ago.  Two days ago, another request was sent to Fury, but there was an addition to it; the phrase "Level 42."  When Fury said it to Bucky his face hardened, then he sat forward, boring his eyes into the man.

"Just those words?"

"Yes.  What do they mean?"

Bucky sat back, his face a mask.  Then he nodded.

"Alright, I'll go," he said.  "But not alone.  I want a witness.  Sam."

He stood up to leave.

"Barnes, what does Level 42 mean?"

For a moment, Bucky hesitated, then he shook his head and walked out.  Fury looked up at the ceiling.

"Friday, what does level 42 mean?" 

The answer, the name of a British jazz-funk band from the 1980s meant nothing to him and considering Barnes was the Winter Soldier then, likely didn't mean anything to him, either.  They got their name by taking the 42 from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, where it was said to be the answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe and Everything, which was also the title to the third book in the series.  As Fury read the description of the third book, he saw something that troubled him and wondered if that had anything to do with it.  Leaning back in his chair he thought for a moment. 

"Friday, go through the HYDRA files.  Look for anything involving a truth drug called Level 42.  Bookmark any other references of that term.  Mark for my eyes only."

If he found anything before Bucky and Sam left, he didn't say.  They got in the truck and began the long drive to the prison, driving instead of flying because Bucky wanted the time to prepare himself to see Josef Czerny, a Czech born guard for HYDRA. 

"You want to talk about him?" asked Sam.

"No." Bucky's terse reply wasn't a surprise.  Then he let an audible breath out as he reconsidered.  "He was a guard in Siberia, a nasty one.  Bigger and heavier than me, with a streak of sadism every time I was being punished for my mistakes.  He was there the day I returned with the serum that I killed Howard Stark for.  Wasn't in the enclosure with the five other soldiers that received it.  Good thing for him as he would have been dead after they went on their killing spree.  After Karpov left to avoid retribution for wasting the serum on them, he left as well.  Just went AWOL.  Until he was found during the roundup of people after the release of the HYDRA files, driving a delivery truck in Florida.  That's all I know about him."

"What's this Level 42 he mentioned?" Bucky turned to look at Sam.  "Fury mentioned it."

"I don't want to say anything until I talk to Czerny," said Bucky.  "He could have said it just to get my attention.  Chances are he wants to taunt me."

It was early evening when they arrived at the prison.  Officially, it was after visiting hours but Fury pulled some strings so they could see the man on their arrival.  Their check-in meant Bucky underwent more scrutiny after setting off the metal detectors with his arm.  When Sam pointed out that Bucky didn't need weapons to wreak havoc at the prison the warden extracted a promise not to do anything violent.  With a scowl that seemed to fill the room, Bucky promised, and they were escorted to the prison hospital. 

"He was in a super max prison but he's in the final stages of cancer," said the warden.  "A couple of weeks, maybe only days is all he has left." 

Stopping in front of the door to the man's cell, he signalled to the camera to unlock it then stepped back.  The lock buzzed and both Bucky and Sam stepped inside a spartan room with a hospital bed, nightstand, IV stand, and several monitors hooked up to a being who was obviously a husk of what he looked like before.  His thin frame reminded Sam of the pictures of concentration camp survivors after they were discovered.  What was most prominent on him were his eyes, large and hollowed out.  They focused on Bucky as soon as he entered the hospital cell, then the man's lips parted in what was supposed to be a smile but there was nothing friendly about it.

"Soldat." Czerny's voice was a raspy whisper.  "I knew Level 42 would get your attention."

"What do you want?" asked Bucky, his voice and presence appearing strong. 

"No comment about me getting my just desserts?"  The former guard cackled, then wheezed, setting off some of the alarms on his monitors.  He coughed then noticed Sam.  "You brought a friend?  Didn't trust yourself not to kill me now that I can't fight back?"

"That was your thing," replied Bucky.  "I recall many times that you kicked me hard enough to make me piss blood for a week, but I couldn't fight back.  I don't kill anymore.  Now, what do you want to tell me?"

The man's face changed, revealing a face full of regret and, surprisingly to Sam, acceptance.  He nodded, then looked up to the window that allowed him to view a small patch of blue sky.  With a shaky hand he gestured to Bucky, who brought a chair closer.

"I'm going to Hell," said Czerny.  "I've already seen it, and nothing will keep me from burning for eternity.  I have no excuses for how I was when I was in HYDRA other than I liked to be in power over people, especially someone like you.  Tormenting you was a pleasure because I was jealous of you, jealous that even though you were the Fist of HYDRA you still fought the programming, you still tried to stay human.  I lost my humanity long before I was recruited and even though I told myself I was better than you, I knew deep down I wasn't."

He stopped talking and looked up at that blue patch of sky again.

"That's it?  That's all you wanted to say?"

Bucky looked disappointed, then began to stand up.

"She's alive."  Czerny still looked at that patch of sky, deliberately not looking at Bucky.  "They didn't kill her.  Instead, they put her into cryostorage.  She's still in one of the lower levels of the Siberian facility, forgotten except for a few of us who knew she was hidden there.  In the drawer is a letter.  Take it, find her, before it's too late." 

Bucky opened the drawer of the nightstand and drew out an envelope.  Although the envelope was addressed in English to Czerny, it was obvious it was written by someone whose first language wasn't English.  Sam stood up, looking over Bucky's shoulder as he pulled the letter out.  It was written in another language, Russian, maybe.  As Bucky read it, his face changed, then he looked at the former guard.

"Why now?  Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Hate and pride are powerful shackles," replied Czerny.  "I'm just a coward.  I'm sorry."

All sorts of emotions played over Bucky's face as he put the letter back in the envelope and slipped it inside his jacket.  For the longest time he looked at the dying man.

"I can't forgive you for what you did all those years," he finally said.  "But if I find her then I'll hope that your end comes quickly and without pain.  That's the best I can do."

"It's more than I deserve."

He nodded at Bucky then looked up at the window again, focusing on that blue patch of sky.  The other two went to the door, waiting for the click of the lock to let them out. 

"What's in the letter?" asked Sam, but Bucky just shook his head.

It wasn't until they were back in the truck and had driven several miles that Bucky told Sam to pull over at a roadside rest area.  He got out of the vehicle and went over to a picnic table, sitting on the top portion of it with his feet on the bench seat.  Taking the letter out he read it again then looked at Sam with tortured eyes.

"She was a Widow, sent for extra training with me.  Her mission was as an infiltration agent; to get into the inner circle of a prominent American and take him out.  It was before the Stark mission but the only thing I know for sure is that it was the 1980s.  She had one of those Walkman cassette players and she listened to a lot of music by a band called Level 42.  She loved the music, and I would hear it from the hallway as I approached the training room.  It was permitted as being part of her cover but there were times she would repeat the lyrics to me.  I had been out of cryo for some time, so I was more myself then.  Some of the lyrics came to have a lot of meaning for me, for us."

"You fell in love with each other?"

Bucky nodded.  "I didn't even know her name.  Wasn't allowed to know so I called her Level 42."  He smiled.  "I liked the music, too.  It was jazzy and there were times she asked me to dance, my style of dancing.  She'd look at the camera that always watched us and say she had to know how to do it right for the mission, so they let us continue.  Until we took it too far."

"You were caught, weren't you?"

"Yeah."  He looked at the letter.  "We have to find her, Sam.  She made me feel human."

"Okay."

"That's it?  No argument, no trying to talk some sense into me?"

"No argument," replied Sam.  "She was important to you and if she was brave enough to flaunt HYDRA rules then she likely had a mind of her own."

The next day

Fury looked at both men.  "Is she still alive?"

He had obviously found an answer to his question about Level 42.  The letter was in Bucky's hand, but he handed it to his boss, knowing he could read Russian, even as the super soldier stated what it said. 

"According to this letter the chamber is still functioning as the power is still on at the facility.  But it won't be for long as the Russian government is planning to destroy it.  Something about removing symbols of oppression."

"More like removing evidence of their complicity," grumbled Sam.  "We can revive her, right?"

"She's not supposed to be enhanced like Rogers or Barnes was but theoretically, yes," replied the Avengers director.  "I suppose you want the quinjet.  Who else do you want on the mission?"

The two Avengers looked at each other.  "Yelena, Thor and Clint, if he's willing," blurted Sam.  "With a sorcerer contingency to transport the cryochamber here if we can't thaw her out before we have to get out of there."

"We better send Banner or Cho to provide medical treatment if anything goes wrong," added Fury.  "Wheels up in two hours.  I'll call Clint personally and get a sorcerer to bring him here."  The two men turned to leave his office.  "Barnes, wait."  Bucky stopped.  "You're sure that she's not enhanced."

"She wasn't when we were together," he confirmed.  "Whether they gave her serum when they took her away isn't known, unless you found something."

Fury met Barnes' stern gaze with his own.  "It's not clear.  They may have given her something, but I don't know if it was a new form of serum.  I was looking for something else in the HYDRA files but had increased the search parameters for any reference to Level 42.  It mentioned her nickname.  It's possible they wiped her memory."

"Understood.  If she is out of control both Thor and I will be there."

He left, hurrying to catch up to Sam.  Both men prepared in the locker room; Bucky changing into his tactical suit, while Sam put his inner layer of clothing on.  The flying suit would go in its travelling case, and he would put it on just before they arrived.  The door to the locker room opened and Clint entered.

"Well, Laura wasn't thrilled, but I needed a change of pace," he said.  "What's my role?"

"Firepower and back-up pilot," said Bucky.  "We're trying to rescue someone put into cryosleep involuntarily.  It's possible she received a serum before she went in but it's not clear.  Thor and I may have to restrain her while Sam and a doctor work on her.  Yelena is also coming, because of her background as a Widow."

"Another Widow?"  Clint looked from one to the other.  "How long has she been frozen?"

"Since the late 1980s," said Sam.  "We don't even know her name.  Bucky only knew her as Level 42, like the band."

Bucky was grateful that Clint didn't say the obvious; if she wasn't given the super soldier serum her chances of survival weren't good.  An hour later they were on the quinjet and in the air.  He told them everything he remembered about her, and how the guard who was now dying had given him the letter about the power still being on. 

"You're sure he was on the level?" asked Clint.  "This isn't HYDRA trying to get you back?"

"Fury checked satellite footage of the site," said Bucky.  "There has been some minimal activity there, but they look like people assessing the structure.  They wore jackets with the name of a demolition company.  I figured Sam could stay outside and monitor any comings and goings while the four of us enter the facility to locate her.  Then we call for Sam and Banner to head down.  If we can defrost her there, I would prefer that but if we have to carry the chamber out Thor and I should be able to handle it.  Yelena and Clint can pilot either way."

"Why should we help her?"  Yelena had barely said anything since being placed on the mission.  "The Widows of that time were well indoctrinated.  I should know as Dreykov always talked about them being the good years when the Widows did as they were told."

"Level 42 was permitted to listen to Western music, on a Walkman.  I was to train her in more forms of physical combat, as well as in stealth manoeuvres.  She pushed the limits of our working relationship, inviting me to dance with her.  She openly justified it as having to know my style of dancing as part of her infiltration technique, yet I danced to 1940s music, not 1980s.  Among other things, she shared the song lyrics with me, lyrics I still remember."  He looked at Yelena with understanding.  "Yes, most of the Widows then were hard core spies and assassins but she was different, and she made me feel human.  Please, help me save her."

She made a face, but nodded in agreement, so he hugged her, surprising everyone.  As the flight continued, he went over the layout of the facility from what he could remember.  Hopefully, they hadn't changed anything since then.  For the remainder of the flight, he sat quietly, looking at the letter.  With an hour left before their arrival, they began to get ready, checking weapons, while Sam put the suit on.  Bucky wore a backpack with several foil thermal blankets, as well as some heat packs whose temperature could be adjusted.  He had also packed some soft clothing, sweatpants and sweatshirt, as well as some medications to strengthen the heart rate.  They all confirmed their comms pieces were working.  Landing just outside the entrance into the facility, they noticed there were no other vehicles nearby and the door was wide open.  Still, they entered with care while Sam kept watch outside, and Bruce monitored them from inside the quinjet. 

"According to the letter, she is in a storage room 10 levels down," said Bucky, as they approached a stairwell.  "I have no memories of being down there, so I don't know if any defensive or protective measures are in place.  Go slow, be alert, and watch your backs."

They took the stairs down, although Clint wanted to see if the elevator would work, in case they had to bring the cryo chamber up.  It did, although it was slow, and the others reached the 10th level down significantly sooner than he did.  The lights didn't come on automatically down there, either.  Some turned on by a switch but when they didn't, they had to crack some lighting sticks, which added to the sense of sickly doom inside the corridor.  Bucky could barely manage his anxiety as they carefully moved down the hallway, testing each door and opening it to check inside.

"I can smell death in here, Yasha," commented Yelena, in Russian.  "There are many ghosts present."

Bucky said nothing, just stopping then staring at a door at the end of the hallway.

"There's a hum coming from that door," he stated.  "It's barely audible but it could be a cryo chamber in conservation mode."

They ignored the other doors, heading straight to the one at the end.  Finding it locked, Bucky kicked it open, and they saw several cryo chambers, five in all, each of them with a figure inside.  The surface of the glass was so frosted over that it was difficult to tell whether each one contained a man or a woman. 

"Did the letter say there were others?" asked Thor.

"No, but there should be some documentation of who they are in the file cabinets," replied Bucky, going to the first chamber and using the warmth of his right hand to melt some of the frost to look inside.  "This chamber is older than the others.  There's only a view hole for the face.  Puts it in the 1950s or 1960s."

Yelena was at another one, looking for any sort of identification on it.  "They have letter and number designations, but it is prefaced with the word Prisoner, so this one wasn't a volunteer for HYDRA."

"We should awaken all of them," said Clint, then he shrugged when the others all looked at him.  "They're going to bring this place down.  If we don't, they die."  He pointed at the oldest chamber.  "That must weigh at least a ton.  I don't know if you two want to be hauling that many cylinders up.  There's no way we can carry all of them in the quinjet.  Might need that portal."

Bucky went down the row of chambers, clearing away the frost on each of them but not looking closely at the inhabitant, then stopped at the fourth of the five.  Something caught his attention and he stared at the face inside, then cleared away the identification plate.

"This is her."  He took a deep breath.  "They put her in a cryo suit, but she'll be soaking wet once the thaw process is complete.  Clint, you and Yelena go back up.  Send Sam and Bruce down with extra emergency coverings and all the dry clothing they can gather.  I'm going to start the thaw cycle on her."

They headed back to the elevator while Bucky started the procedure then pulled his backpack down and brought everything out.  Thor went over to the filing cabinets, looking for the designations on the folders that matched the designations on the chambers.  He found three fairly quickly, when he heard the sound of the chamber with Level 42 opening.  Bucky was already undoing all the restraints on the woman who seemed barely responsive.  Her body was limp, and she was covered in a film of icy water.  Finally freeing her Bucky laid her on a mat that had automatically inflated when he unrolled the thin roll it had been.  He placed a thermal sensor on her forehead, noting her body temperature was 30 degrees Celsius.  Quickly he covered her with a thermal blanket, wrapping it around her, then placed several heat packs under the mat, allowing it to spread the heat evenly through the mat.

"Do you need my assistance, Buck?" asked Thor.  "I have found three of the five files."

"Find the other two," said Bucky.  "So far, I've been able to manage and if Sam and Bruce bring more supplies down, they can take over while I awaken the others."

Noticing that the unconscious woman was starting to shiver Bucky quickly pulled her cryo suit off, using his knife to cut into it, remembering how hard it had been to remove it in one piece from his own body.  Quickly, he pulled the dry clothing over her, then added socks on her feet and a stocking cap on her head, before tucking her back under the thermal blanket.  As her eyes fluttered, he placed his right hand on her cheek.

"L'ubímaja [beloved].  It's me, your Soldier.  I have found you.  Can you hear me?"

She groaned then her eyes fluttered open and she muttered, and he spoke softly to her again in Russian.

"Your vision will return.  You've been in cryosleep, radnaja [darling].  Just breathe.  I am here with you."

Sam and Bruce, both of them stopping in shock at the site of five chambers, advanced towards Bucky who told them what he had done.  The thermal sensor had warmed up to 31 degrees Celsius.  Bruce took a stethoscope out to listen to her heartbeat and lungs, then nodded at Bucky. 

"Keep her warming up slowly," he said.  He gestured at the others.  "What's their story?"

Thor came, having found the final two folders, dropping them off in front of Bucky.  Quickly, he picked up Level 42's folder and opened it, reading the contents that were written in Russian.

"She was treated with an experimental serum, then placed in cryosleep in November of 1989."  He let out a tortured breath.  "She's been here ever since.  Damn them."  Flipping through the others he opened the file for the oldest chamber, then sucked in his breath.  "Bastards.  That chamber on the left contains the daughter of one of Stalin's enemies.  She was only 17 when they kidnapped her.  They injected her with the same serum I was given but they didn't even wait to see the results.  They just froze her."

He got up to look at her face in the small viewing port.  Bruce looked through as well, while Sam continued to monitor Level 42's progress.  Bucky's face went grim.

"I don't want to even try resuscitating her here," he said.  "These old chambers were tricky.  We should take her back and try in a controlled medical environment.  Theoretically, it would be equivalent to how Steve was thawed out.  If she's had the serum her body should be able to handle it.  There's no mention of the memory device being used so her personality should be intact."

"I agree."  Bruce gestured to the other three.  "What about them?"

Bucky opened the next file, comparing the photo inside with the woman in the chamber, which seemed to be an earlier model as well, like a hybrid between the first and third one.

"Imprisoned for saying no in 1974," he said, scowling again.  "She rebuffed the advances of a high-ranking HYDRA official who wanted her to be his mistress.  She was already married.  They killed her husband, then he froze her with the plan to unthaw her when he was old and she was still young, to prove his control over her life.  Except, he made a mistake and was executed in 1981.  They just left her in the chamber as someone else's problem.  No serum."

"We take this chamber back then," said Bruce.  "I don't even want to try without medical backup."

They stopped at the third one, which contained a child, a boy.  Both men looked at each other in disgust, then Bucky read the file, his face changing into something more sympathetic as he read it.

"Okay, this is unusual.  How he got away with it, I don't know.  Son of an industrialist who was high up in HYDRA.  The boy has cystic fibrosis.  His father paid millions of rubles to freeze him in the hope of someday there being a cure.  Is there one?"

He looked Bruce who shook his head slightly.  "Not really, although the drug therapies are more effective and their life span and quality of life have improved greatly.  No serum in this one?"  Bucky shook his head.  "Okay, we take his chamber back, but his chances aren't good."

They stopped in front of the final chamber and Bucky flipped the folder open without looking inside at the person.  His face became dark, and only then did he look at the man inside the cryo chamber for a considerable time.  Then he closed the folder, his mouth set in a grim line.

"A HYDRA handler.  In fact, he was my handler ... the one who took her away.  This was his punishment for losing control of the Asset.  He doesn't deserve to live as none of the handlers respected life.  I know that as a doctor, you have an oath, but if we leave him here, that wouldn't violate it, would it?"

Bruce let out a significant breath.  "No, but what if the authorities here decide to thaw him out?  Do you want that?"

"No, but there's something I can do to make it certain he wouldn't be found but he wouldn't be dead, either."  Bucky looked at the doctor steadily.  "I promise I won't kill him."

With a nod of his head Bruce agreed then he activated his comms piece and contacted Avengers headquarters to find out if the quinjet could handle the weight of three cryo chambers.  With the word that it was better to use a portal he requested one and promised to let them know when they were ready.  Bucky was kneeling down next to Level 42, who was breathing easier, but still seemed to be a little out of it.  Speaking softly to her in Russian, Bucky smiled when she answered one of his comments in flawless English, asking her own questions.

"You're free?" she asked softly.  "HYDRA and the Red Room are gone?"

"Many years ago," he answered.  "I have many of my memories back, including my name, James Buchanan Barnes.  I'm American.  I only know you as Level 42.  Do you remember how we danced?"

She smiled.  "You were a good dancer, James.  My name is Renata Irina Volkov.  How long have I been frozen?"

A sigh prefaced his answer.  "36 years, Renata.  I'm not the young man I was then but still not too old to have a life with you, if you wish it.  When your vision returns, you can decide, radnaja."

He looked at Bruce, who was still monitoring her temperature and heartbeat.

"Renata, you can go back in the quinjet, if you want the time to talk," he said.  "You're very stable.  I'll go back with the other three chambers."

"Sam, would you help Renata up to the quinjet while I take care of something down here?"

His best friend smiled, then picked her up, carrying her in his arms to the elevator and taking it up.  Bruce called for a portal, then took four of the folders, leaving the one with the handler behind.  Thor moved the other three chambers through the portal, returning before it closed then looked at Bucky who still studied the chamber that held his old handler.

"How can I help, Buck?" he asked. 

"I want to bring down this portion of the room around it, so that it's obscured," said Bucky.  "A demolition team would just see debris and leave it untouched as it wouldn't be safe for them to even set charges in here.  He'll live like this in the darkness forever.  It is what he deserves."

Just before they began to destroy the room, they cleared away the supplies that Sam and Bruce brought down with them to return to the top.  Then Bucky checked the functions on the cryo chamber before he and Thor began pulling the room down around it.  Satisfied, they picked up the supplies and took the elevator up to the top.  No one had approached the facility while they were there.  Boarding the quinjet they stowed the supplies then Clint and Yelena started the aircraft, lifting it up into the air.  Renata and Bucky looked at it then he helped her back into a seat, gently belting her in before fastening his own restraints.  They began the long flight back to the Avengers compound, listening to the band, Level 42, on Bucky's cell phone.

Three months later

"Yuri, Irina, come," said Mariya, the woman who had been frozen in 1974.  She watched as the 91-year-old who looked 17 held her hand out to the 57-year-old who was now a healthy 11-year-old boy and hanging upside down from a tree at the Avengers compound.  "Hurry, Yasha and Renata will be here shortly.  We're having a ...."  She looked at Bruce.  "What do you call it again?"

"Barbecue," he said, smiling at the dark-haired woman.  "Everyone's coming for a barbecue."

She flashed him a smile that filled him with warmth.  Her charms were obvious.  No wonder the HYDRA official wanted her. 

"Barbecue," she repeated.  "Come or you don't get ice cream!"  Turning, she walked back towards the main building with him.  "So, you're satisfied with our health, enough to allow us to leave, if we wish.  What if, we don't wish to leave?  What if, we like living here?  Yuri and Irina need a parent.  I'm old enough to be their aunt."

"Their attractive and young-looking aunt," interjected Bruce.  He noticed Thor waiting for them outside the building with Love.  "Wouldn't have anything to do with a 1500-year-old Demi god, would it?"

"Perhaps," she said, her cheeks pinking up.  "He has seen much and says we can split our time between here and New Asgard.  I don't want to go back to Russia.  There is nothing for the three of us there, not anymore."

"Well, you'll all be welcome, since I have to keep tabs on your health anyways.  With Irina having super soldier abilities I'm sure they'll want her to consider joining the Avengers.  Yelena and Bucky both say they'll work with her for training, if she wants it."

"Mariya," smiled Thor, putting his arms out. 

She hugged Love first, who stuck her tongue out cheekily at her father, then she hugged Thor.  The other two rushed up. 

"I win!" Yuri jumped up and down.  "I'm faster than you."

"Sure, you are, little man," said Irina, winking at the others.  "Nothing to do with the blood transfusion from me that cured you."

"Maybe," he admitted.  "But I still won."

They entered the building, seeing Bucky and Renata inside, holding hands.  Yuri ran for her, laughing when she picked him up and tossed him in the air.  Cheek kisses were given to the other two survivors of the cryo chambers then they headed towards the elevator, going up to the roof top terrace where the barbecue was happening.  The celebration of their 3 months of freedom after the years in the cryo chambers had been in the works for a couple of weeks.  It was a milestone moment for them and for Bucky, as well, looking with love on Renata as she made the rounds with the other survivors to Clint and his family, Yelena, Sam, and several others who had been involved in their medical care since their arrival. 

As he watched, his cell phone vibrated and he checked the messages, seeing one that had him nod his head.  The Siberian facility was officially demolished, charges placed on all levels, then set off in a sequence that collapsed the interior structure of the site.  In a year's time when his old handler's chamber started its pre-programmed thawing sequence, he would be trapped inside a tomb of rock, hundreds of feet inside the ground under the Siberian wasteland.  He would still be alive, for a time.

Bucky had no regrets about that, his last unofficial hit.  As he told Bruce, some people didn't deserve to live.  Placing his phone back in his pocket, he looked up, alerted by the laughter of Renata, Mariya, Irina and Yuri, as they posed for cell phone pictures.  Four lives saved because of a guard who finally let go of hate and told him a long-held secret.  He looked at the blue sky above them and thanked Josef Czerny one more time.  Then he stepped forward and joined the others.  Life was so much more enjoyable now.

Is it so wrong to be human after all? (Line from Something About You, by Level 42)

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[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

A murderous game of cat and mouse

Prologue

Part 1

Summary: The Scarlet witch just couldn't stay away from you, this cat and mouse game was getting annoying, you couldn't blame her though, you missed her too.

Nat loves interrupting you two and pissing Wanda off so it's a win win for her too

Warnings: 18 + Minors DNI, small amount of smut, like R giving Wanda some oral that’s it (first time writing smut in a while, and even longer since I’ve had any so no judging 😂) little knife play of course, Nat being the most annoying woman in the room but also relatable

Tag list: @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

Words: 2,500

"Y/n! Are you listening?" The piercing voice of one of your men Clint barton made you jump dropping the picture you were holding "fuck me Clint why don't you just slap me next time to get my attention"

The man laughed patting you on the back and trying to look at the picture you dropped "what do you have there?"

You didn't let him instead picking the picture up and stuffing it in your bra "you want it, you have to go fishing for it"

"You're gross you know that?" He laughed sitting on the chair opposite you and getting serious for a minute “so, is your stalker still giving you the runaround?”

You shook your head “no, I cockblocked myself by telling her I like the chase and I want to keep going-

“Woah woah woah! You’re telling me you had this woman in the palm of your hand and you let her go?! I thought you were smart?” You rolled your eyes Nat had already through this with you including a few head slaps then a face slap when you mentioned wanting an orgasm from her to make up for the head slaps

"Yeah yeah I know, anyway do we have anything to do today?"

The man shook his head "no everything's sorted for today, you could go and get your hot stalker" he sent you a cheesy smile and you wanted to smack the smirk off of his face "go home barton" you said blankly and he gave you a thumbs up "see ya tomorrow boss!" He left you alone and you sighed relaxing in your seat leaning your head back and pulling the picture out of your bra looking it over once again, the look on her face while licking the knife would be engraved in your mind forever.

There was a sharp knock on the door suddenly and you whipped out your gun aiming it at the door, how dare someone interrupt your quiet time "state your name or as soon as you open that door I'll blow your brains out"

There was a small chuckle from behind the door and you raised an eyebrow "not much of a cat and mouse game if you come to my office is it?"

The door opened revealing the scarlet witch and you lowered your gun "I'll be truthful my love I hate staying away from you, fuck the game I want you now" she walked to your desk sitting on it facing you "you sound desperate" you say smiling but she just shrugged "you haven't been trying to find me either baby, I was getting lonely"

You pulled your chair close to the desk, she spread her legs so you could be closer to her and you placed your hands on her thighs stroking them "I'm sorry, we've just been really busy here"

She nodded along, placing her hands atop of yours "I understand princess but when we’re you gonna make time for me?”

You dipped your head down sadly “sorry”

The woman remained stoic “where’s your knife?”

"In the drawer" you replied and you opened it pulling the object out, Scarlet took it from you admiring the shininess "I'm glad you kept her clean" she ran the knife along your cheek pressing the tip into your cheek just enough the keep you still "maybe I should punish you for ignoring me, were you with Romanoff?"

Your eyes widened slightly and she clicked her tongue "I see, do you want her dead? Do you want to see the blood pool around her shaking body as the light leaves her eyes?" In a quick second the knife sliced down your cheek cutting you but you didn't flinch being used to the pain knives brought

"Do you want to hurt me?" She asked sadly bringing the knife up to her lips licking the small amount of blood from it making you swallow hard "no, no I don't want to hurt you"

The woman jumped off the desk coming round to behind your chair where you were still sat unsure of what to do "when was the last time you fucked her?" Her arms found the bottom of the shirt you were wearing and lifted it above you head throwing it to the floor then spinning the chair around smiling at the lacy bra you had on

"Tell me" she asked again cutting the straps of your bra carelessly nipping your skin with it

"last night" you finally said and the cutting on your bra stopped and she sliced your other cheek, okay you'd had enough of being cut, she's hot but come on

"Scarlet-"

"It’s Wanda" she corrected you, her real name? At least you were getting somewhere

"Wanda, how about you calm down, okay?" You took ahold of the knife putting it down on the desk behind you "I want you-"

"Prove it" Wanda said and you chuckled "okay sit on the desk then" you stood and the remains of your bra fell from your body "well, it's a good thing I have more" you looked at Wanda looking at your chest "want a taste?" Her fingers reached your breast holding them in her hands "you're not getting any satisfaction from me today, you're gonna pleasure me" she pinched your nipples and you jerked away "shit there's sensitive"

Wanda smiled "I know, I can't wait to have my fun with them"

You didn't question her instead letting her get up on the desk again and spreading her legs "want a taste?" She mocked you laughing at your rolled eyes

Instead of responding you knelt down pulling her pants down her long legs tossing them away and kissing up her thighs leaving deep purple marks in your wake "don't tease me detka"

You kissed her over her panties revealing just how wet she was, you didn't even take her panties off just moved them to the side moaning at the sight of her wet cunt "shit you're so wet"

"Stop talking and just fuck me" you smiled and licked through her folds seeking out her clit and when you found it you sucked hard feeling Wanda buck into you urging you on

"God you're so good with your tongue" Wanda gripped your hair tight keeping you in place, it didn't matter if you couldn't breathe, not that you minded, if you died like this it would be the greatest death ever

You felt Wanda clench around your tongue knowing she was close you kept going through her orgasm bringing her close to another one prying her legs open when she tried to close them "Y/n...Y/n so sensitive..." she tried but you ignored her licking and swallowing everything she gave you and she was delicious, you could definitely die right now.

"Y/n!" The door slammed open and you had a slight moment of dejavu when Nat's voice echoed through the room, trying to reluctantly remove yourself from between Wanda's thighs but she gripped your hair keeping you in place

"We're in the middle of something Natalia" you heard her hoarse voice say as she tried to regain some control and Nat scoffed "I can see that psychopath, am I allowed to speak to my boss or isn't she finished yet?" you didn't even have to look at her to know she was smirking

Wanda was smirking too, pulling something from her chest pocket pointing it at Nat "how about you talk to her later when she's finished?"

"ooohhh a gun I'm so scared"

You tapped Wanda's thigh and she glanced down at your eyes that pleaded to be let up which she allowed letting go of your hair and pushing you from her with her legs

You stood up facing Nat trying to put on a professional face "Nat, how about we-"

Nat held up her hand stopping you from continuing "before you start, please wipe your face, and put a shirt on I can't take you seriously with cum on your face and your breasts out in the open"

You blushed reaching for your shirt quickly putting it over your head and the looking for something to use to wipe your face when Wanda handed you a tissue "there you go medovyy, I think you look perfect the way you are though" she winked putting her pants back on, you didn't know your face could blush harder and yet you felt like it did

"Anyway Nat what do you need?" You cleaned your face throwing the wipe in the trash looking back at your friend "actually I don't need anything but I heard moaning when I walked past so obviously I had to barge in to make sure my boss was safe"

You went to speak but Wanda was already in front of you with the gun firm against Nat's head "give me one good reason why I shouldn't put a bullet through your skull"

"I could give you hundreds of reasons but I know that's not what you want to hear" Nat was always calm in stressful situations and this was no different "so Y/n we have that dinner meeting with Agatha in an hour so we should probably get ready"

She glanced at the angry redhead "you could come too if you want, having a psychopathic guard dog there would probably be a good thing" she laughed to herself "you won't be laughing when I put a bullet through your head"

Nat sighed "you know I'd blame your anger on being sexually frustrated but I walked in on you being eaten out and from previous experience I know that you've probably had about 3 orgasms so far...she's great with her tongue right?"

You flinched when the handle of Wanda's gun smacked Nat across the face, cutting her lip, which Wanda smiled at before frowning when Nat just chuckled "well, you definitely have a swing on you, that'll prove useful at the meeting, now come on you two the car's waiting"

She left giving you a wink and Wanda turned back to you "she's more of a boss than you are princess, I like her"

You rolled your eyes, jealousy creeping into your body "you like her? You've threatened her and just slapped her across the face with the back of your gun, if that means you like someone I'm a little jealous"

Moving behind your desk to clean some things up and collect your gun Wanda watched you carefully "how do you deal with jealously?"

You finished behind the desk and moved around to Wanda wrapping your arm around her waist pulling her flush against you "I deal with it as well as you deal with it"

Wanda's eyes widened "oh milaya devushka I really want to see that, I'll get you so rilled up with jealously that the red mist takes over your mind and you kill everyone who looks at me" she kissed you hard moaning at the still lingering taste of herself on your tongue "fucking delicious" she said breathlessly and you chuckled

"It's your own taste"

"And I taste delicious-

"Come on you horndogs! We can't keep Agatha waiting!"

Wanda closed her eyes and grumbled "I don't like her anymore"

"Do you actually want to come?" You asked and Wanda nodded "our game of cat and mouse can be on hold for now, I'll be the best guard dog you've ever had instead”

"Will you sit at my feet and let me scratch your head? You joked but Wanda didn't instead she did said something that surprised you "I'll wear a pretty collar with a leash that you keep a hold of...and if for any reason you feel like you need it, I'll get under the desk and lick you like the good puppy I can be"

"Shit" you couldn't say anything else, it was just hazy, the thought of this big bad serial killer on her knees pleasing you while you were in a meeting was all you could think about

"Princess? We shouldn't keep the Russian whore waiting, come on" she dragged you out the room still in your hazy gaze imagining her on the floor with her head on your thigh as you softly stroked her hair and when you asked it she’d be between your legs making the dinner/meeting go so much better

"You'd look so cute with a dog collar" you managed and Wanda smirked "who said I don't have one already?"

"You're going to fucking kill me" you approached the car seeing Nat with a cigarette in her mouth tapping her foot impatiently "I'm glad you could pry yourselves away from each other long enough to come outside, get in the car" she threw away her cigarette and got into the drivers side while you two got into the back

The car was started up and Nat turned to the two of you "I swear to god if you two start doing anything in the back of this car I'll slit both your throats, it's a rental and I don't want to explain to the owners what the stains in the back are"

Wanda flipped her off "we'll do whatever we want Natasha"

The woman sighed before saying "fine, but if she gets action I want some too"

"Y/n won't touch you anymore Nat she belongs to me" Wanda threatened but Nat just looked at her in the rearview mirror "who said I want anything from her anymore? I think our hate hate relationship could leave to some hot sex, plus we're both redheads so it'll be fiery"

Throughout this interaction Wanda's hand flexed on your shoulder gripping it tightly whenever she spoke "and what makes you think I'd touch that dirty body of yours?"

Nat shrugged turning a corner into an alleyway and stopping the car "Maybe one day you're psychotic ass might change its mind, if the woman I normally fuck is now a pet for a serial killer then I want a taste of what she's having"

She got out of the car coming to the back and opening the door for you to get out, you thanked Nat and when Wanda stepped out Nat didn't get time to say anything before Wanda grabbed the back of her neck bringing her into a heavy kiss and slipping her tongue inside her mouth groaning at her taste

"Hmm I'll definitely think about it shlyukha" Wanda licked her lips giving Nat a pat on the cheek

"Takes one to know one psychopath"

You rolled your eyes "if you two are quite done, let's go" Wanda could tell you were obviously grumpy and grabbed ahold of you kissing your neck "are you jealous? Are you going to go into a blind rage?" Her voice was ragged against your neck, you know what you said about being jealous but you'd never hurt Nat, sexually you would sure but you'd never want to kill her.

"No Scarlet witch I won't be killing my friend" a stern tone evident in your voice making Wanda smile "using my stalker name are we? I love it when you're rilled up, can we go killing later? Seeing you up close and personal covered in blood will be the hottest thing I've seen in weeks"

You pushed her away slightly surprising the woman looking to Nat to open the door "let's get this over with" you we’re pissed, you couldn’t touch Nat or anyone else because you’d get punished, fucking hypocrite psychopath.

you went through the open door slamming it leaving the two redheads stood there "what the fuck happened?" Wanda exclaimed and Nat laughed "you thought making her jealous would be a good thing? You silly little psychopath"

"But she said she dealt with jealously like me, I don't complain and be whiny about it"

Nat rolled her eyes "you're in for it later, now come on idiot, she's scary when she's mad"

"That's what I wanted but I didn't think shed be mad at me"

Nat pushed Wanda through the door "make it up to her then"

Wanda groaned "all I wanted was to kill people for her and then fuck her while I was covered in blood"

“Too bad, you’re in a relationship now”

[mad-hunts]

both matilda and barton were keenly aware that joker was watching them like a hawk. so, although she was tempted to pull away from him, his daughter decided she had just one more thing to do. matilda very subtly tilted her head in such a way that their 'unwelcome guest' wouldn't be able to tell that she was very quietly whispering to him; and at such an audio that even barton barely heard it, in fact. but the important thing was that he'd caught it for she had told him something in code that meant 'just say the word' in relation to joker. it didn't exactly take a rocket scientist to figure out that there wasn't something quite right with their new comedian friend, barton thought.

and how ironic that was for him to think, because unbeknowst to him, arthur was talking about how weird he was acting with what could potentially be one big thorn in his side: the batman. a sigh came from him as the only thing he could think about right now was that the unruly golden ringlets atop his head were going to get so poofy because of the rain. it only appeared to be getting worse and one way this was illustrated was by how the light teal of the also almost doll-like dress matilda wore was becoming a darker hue of teal, which was kind of bad news for her, as it wasn't a cheap dress. it was made out of satin. but between holding onto barton a little longer to maintain the façade that she was upset, or pulling away early and thus breaking the illusion, she chose the first option.

by this time, barton was fully hugging matilda back and looked down at the ground, trying to just listen to her to see if any of this distress could be genuine or whether it was all an act. he maneuvered a hand up to cradle her head then with a shocking amount of gentleness. barton didn't let his guard down, though, as the image of joker's service animal in the corner of his eye reminded him that he wanted something from them. he didn't know what, but if it wasn't obvious before, then it was now. ❝ hey... you're acting like something seriously bad happened, lovebug. you've got to tell me what's going on, ❞ matilda finally pulled away from barton and she covered up both sides of her face at first, before rubbing her hands down it.

matilda silently listened to joker for a moment. no one's threatened you... well, that was pretty untrue, actually. she had one hell of a shiner around her left eye. ❝ honestly, from my friends leaving me stranded in there and ending up with this from some jackass who wouldn't leave me alone, i guess you could just say that i'm... really glad to be out of there. i mean, i tried to leave as soon as you texted me earlier, but this guy stopped me on the way out. i think he must've been as drunk as a skunk or something because he accused me of stealing from him, which i obviously didn't do, ❞ barton knew that that whole story was probably a lie, but he did know that he wanted to kill whoever hit his daughter; no matter what circumstances they were under.

barton was basically seething with anger when he saw the bruise around matilda's eye. ❝ oh? so, you're telling me someone hit you, in there? what'd he look like? and before you say anything, i just want to talk to him, ❞ that was a lie if matilda had ever heard one. she chuckled in feigned surprise at that, raising both of her eyebrows at once. ❝ oh my god... dad. i took care of it, so you don't need to do anything. in fact, please don't. he can get really scary when he's mad, ❞ matilda directed this comment towards arthur before she finally noticed the small puncture wound on his palm. from there, she forcefully took his hand and she barely looked up at him to say, ❝ it seems like you have a big family. what's that like? is it as chaotic as it sounds, or it is nice? ❞ she offered him a small smile. ❝ eh, well, you know that saying ' packed like a can of sardines? ' it's pretty much like that. mm, the dancers up on stage tonight were good, i'll give them that. ❞

matilda was lying through her teeth about the dancers. but the less that arthur knew, the better. his daughter finally opened up the umbrella that had been loaned to her by barton and gestured towards the other to take it. ❝ your makeup's running, so you can go ahead and borrow this, if you want. as for the drops — sadly, yes. the drug problem here just keeps on getting worse and worse, ❞ barton ever-so-slightly squinted his eyes at joker as if he was trying to read him. he'd let his nails get out of control, that much was for certain, but he had been 'taking a break' from practicing for about a month now... which really only meant he wasn't seeing any patients outside of surgery. and when he did surgery, it was with precautions taken so that his nails wouldn't breach the gloves ( though usually they were shorter and less sharp. ) the thing about gotham metropolitan was that he'd actually worked there quite some years ago, and they did have strict policies about how long your nails could be. but now that he had his own clinic, he could set the hygiene standards for it.

that didn't mean that he wanted it's existence to be known to the public, though, as his main clientele was criminals. forging some documents to make it appear as if he was working at the hospital like he had years ago was his solution to this. and it always helped to have someone on the inside who could quote unquote ' make that official. ' a micro-expression of displeasure seemed to flash across barton's face for just a second as he made prolonged eye contact with him. all the while, matilda wrapped his hand with a roll of bandages she'd taken out of her purse.

the corner of his lips curled as if to say ' i may not even know you that well yet, but i already hate you. '

Joker expects a gruff burst in his ear once his focus settles on Dr. Mathis’ pocket. Matilda dropped something in there. What exactly, Joker can’t tell. Neither can the younger Wayne heir from their family’s defunct terminal. Squinting won’t help, but it does relieve his red-streaked eyes. How tree pollen has managed to swamp the city is beyond him.

Werewolf slips the cigarette from his mouth to cough into his elbow. He resists the urge to paw at his nose. MAC Chromacake pigments dry down matte, but mist already has begun beading on the surface. A pale blue streak trickles from Tragedy’s eye, down his cheek, and into the margins of his scarlet simper. It has no taste.

Blaring horns don’t distract him, though incoming footsteps while his back is partially turned compels Joker to glance over his shoulder. The line remains wrapped around Paradise’s facade and around the corner. Overcast keeps bruising the night sky.

Sokol side-guards Joker on the left. The black wolf-dog’s ghoulish eyes remain locked on the father-daughter duo before them. One of the doctor’s palms bleeds. Joker hones in on it while accounting for both sets of hands. Those hands could never touch a patient. Something isn’t right. A chill rolls the length of Joker’s spine. He rears his chin, tucks the damp cigarette to his lips so he can inhale as it’s dying, then force himself to breathe.

Without moonlight to transform under, the lycan is left to shift from sole to sole; dipping his shoulders and carrying his torso on that subtle current. Each time he blinks, Bruce loses focus. He has more than plentiful clear frames to screenshot and print, but it’s the jostling of the cameras that unnerve him most. 

“Stand your ground and stay in plain sight,” Bruce’s instruction is calm as, ‘MATHIS, MATILDA’ appears alongside the young woman’s perfect face. No place of employment listed, however. She’s in every way proportionate; a living doll. Scars from cosmetic procedures to achieve such a flawless veneer might dent her skin here and there, but Joker isn’t close enough to know for sure. Those low-resolution lenses certainly can't reveal if any cosmetic procedures have taken place. “No one’s threatened you,” his reminder’s gentle enough to soothe one of his little nieces, “No one’s gonna hurt you. Just hold steady.”

A gradual drop of Joker's left hand settles over the bracelet tucked under his cuff. Three quick taps onto the moon-shaped charm with his thumb are followed by three longer taps, then three short taps. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat. Again. The moon symbol lights up once. Joker covers it with his thumb, then allows his damp sleeve to fall back down and resumes smoking. The Chief’s Special carves his hip. Joker rakes his left hand-heel over the revolver’s snout and remains in position. 

“I’ve got three,” Joker speaks in reference to daughters, but scrunches his face and clarifies, “They’re all little, though. My oldest is five,” youngest has yet to be born, “And my son’s a baby.” His chin nudges toward the doors guarded by Dalí’s long lost twin, “How packed is it in there, Ma’am?” Joker asks Matilda, though his voice might be swallowed by the rain’s hiss. “My wife's on her way. We were just waiting on our sitter,” he’s doubtful Gary had evening plans, “She likes the cabaret.” 

“That was smooth,” though Bruce knows his older brother can’t comment aloud, Joker preens in a fashion that opens his chest up enough for the little brother to know he’s gloating. “Nothing about this guy’s behavior is right. Not hers either. I’m gonna look up his medical license and see if he’s really still in practice. It’s against board regulations to have nails like that. Unless Gotham Metropolitan’s nixed its scalpel budget…” Bruce thinks he’s funny. Joker’s stomach knots in a bow. For that, he paws at his eyeballs and rattles the image Bruce is seeing enough to intentionally trigger a migraine or motion sickness on the younger brother's end. “Do you think they retract like that X-Men villain?”

Joker would roll his eyes if only he could. Instead he puffs enough smoke for a veil to float over his eyes. The rain won’t let it last. Droplets thicken and fall like little guillotine blades. They cut past polyester and soak the satin sleeves of Joker’s dress shirt so they cling to his skin. His chest cinches, leading Joker to cough again and expel any smoke that might remain in his chest. Once more he checks both father and daughter’s hands, then winds Sokol’s light blue lead tighter around his own hand. 

“Are they still slinging Drops around like candy in there…?” Joker speaks to Matilda again, though Dr. Mathis hasn’t left his eyeshot, “Last time, we were practically stepping over bodies just to get to the bar.”

“Try to figure out what she does,” Bruce speaks in reference to Matilda, “I don’t have an employer for her…and she’s being just as weird as he is.” Before Joker interrupts him with some canned, ‘You can’t just tail people because they’re weird,’ Bruce stresses, “He practically admitted to killing that cop, then tripped over it once he knew he couldn’t take it back. Worst comes to worst, have Nix give him a shake-down and see what falls out of his pocket.” Joker slackens his jaw, but isn’t certain if his brother’s joking. “Maybe it is Drops.” Certainly wouldn’t be a body.

[avengerscompound]

The Interview - Chapter 16

The Interview - A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Rating:  E

Warnings: none

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Melody Danes

Word Count: 2126

Summary:  Melody Danes gets the break of a lifetime when as a lowly intern, she’s assigned to write a profile piece on Captain America.  Steve Rogers is a hard man not to fall for and as she and Melody get closer and Melody’s career takes off, jealousy leads to sabotage, and the potential to bring her whole world crashing down.

Chapter 16

Excitement bubbled in Melody's stomach as she rode the Avengers Tower elevator up with Bobbi.  They’d both been to the tower plenty of times.  They’d met all the Avengers.  This was different though.  They weren’t there to sleep over with their prospective boyfriends.  They weren’t there for a party that half of the city had been invited to.  They weren’t there for work.  Tony Stark had invited them to dinner with the team specifically to get to know them.  He’d even had an assistant call to find out if either of them had any special dietary requirements to make sure they felt completely correctly catered for.  He wanted them to feel comfortable because for the Avengers this was the equivalent of meeting the family.

It felt like a big deal.  A relationship marker.  This was the part where the people who loved them best decided if Melody and Bobbi were good enough for them.  Melody just wished it had been Steve’s idea.

Bobbi reached over and gave Melody a push.  “It’s going to be fine.  It’s just dinner.”

Melody pushed her back. “I know.  I know.  It just feels like a big deal.  I don’t know if I should ask Steve to come meet my parents after this or what.”

“Well, at least you get to think about that as an option,” Bobbi said.

Melody frowned and put her arm around her cousin.  “I’m sorry.  I know.  But you got me.”

Bobbi rested her cheek on the top of Melody’s head for a moment.  “Yeah, I’ve got you,” she said.  “And Bucky’s already met you, and he thinks you’re great.  So I’ve got nothing to worry about.  Still, there are my sisters, and I hold out hope mom and dad will come around.”

The elevator opened, and to Melody’s surprise, instead of opening out onto the party deck where she’d first met the rest of the team, it was straight into an apartment.  She could only assume this was the penthouse because it appeared to take up the entire floor, and at least the one above too, as there was a large glass staircase that wound up on the left of the room.  Ahead of her were three steps that led to what appeared to be a living room and the top of the Chrysler building dominated the view out of the floor-to-ceiling windows.  The Avengers were all sitting on the couches together and they stood when the doors opened.  As well as Steve, Bucky, and Tony there, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Sam Wilson, James Rhodes, Bruce Banner, Wanda Maximoff, Thor, Maria Hill, Sharon Carter, and Pepper Potts were all there.  She’d met them all at the party, though some only very briefly, and while most she knew just due to their fame, there were others whose job it was not to be known by the general public.  Melody had Steve go through everyone’s names before coming just so she wouldn’t embarrass herself.

“Here are the guests of honor,” Tony announced, when they approached he stepped forward and kissed each of them on the cheek.  “Welcome, welcome.  Have you all met?  I’m sure you know most of them from their do-goodings.  That’s Maria and Sharon.  Anyone else you might not know?”

“It’s fine, Tony,” Steve said as he put his arm around Melody.  “They both met everyone at the party.”

“Though some of us only briefly,” Hill said.  “It’s nice to see you still around.  I don’t think any of us have ever seen that before.”

“This is the first person I’ve even seen Bucky actually date,” Clint said.

“There was that blind date Natasha set him up on,” Sam replied.

“Alright, alright.  We don’t all need to be going over my love life in front of my girlfriend,” Bucky said.

Bobbi took his hand and kissed his palm. “Your past doesn’t bother me, mi corazón.  They can tease.”

“Great, permission granted,” Sam said, rubbing his hands together.  “This is going to be great!”

Bucky groaned and ran his prosthetic hand down his face.  “Fuckin’ great.”

“Come on, come on,” Tony said.  “Dinner won’t wait forever.  Let’s go through.”

Melody had never seen a dining table as large as the one in Tony’s dining room in person before, and while she’d seen ones on TV just as big or maybe even larger, they featured on shows with vampires, or large mafia families, or epic sagas with Kings and Queens.  Those tables were always dark and heavy hardwood.  Often they were ornately carved.  This was nothing like those tables.  It was rectangular and made of what looked like a single piece of highly polished obsidian and sat on a support of polished chrome in the shape of an x.

Steve pulled out one of the black padded chairs for Melody and she took her seat as everyone else sat down around her.  As soon as they were seated two waiters came out and began filling glasses.  One poured either red or white wine into the wine glasses, while the other poured water into the highballs beside them.  Already set out on the table were platters with olives and warm sourdough bread, as well as meatballs, stuffed zucchini flowers, focaccia, and some kind of arancini.

Melody helped herself to a little of everything as the rest of the group filled their plates.  She was used to eating with Steve and Bucky at this point and wasn’t surprised to see how full Bucky’s plate was, nor how Steve had leaned more into the high protein things like the meatballs over the empty calories of the white bread.  She was surprised to see just how much Thor had taken.  He had dragged an entire platter of meatballs down to himself and added handfuls of everything else to it.

“Speaking of people’s love lives,” Melody said.  “How’s things going with Mattie, Sam?  He talks about you a lot.”

Sam’s eyes lit up at the mention of his new relationship.  “It’s going great,” he said.  “I mean - you know what it’s like dating an Avenger.  I don’t always have a lot of free time, but we’re having a great time together.”

“Ohh… is there another meet-the-family dinner coming up?” Tony asked, a teasing tone in his voice.

“I’ll happily let all of you degenerates meet him any time,” Sam teased.  “But we’re a little way off taking him back to Lousianna.”

Tony put his hand on his chest.  “I’m wounded, Tweety.  You wound me.”

The appetizers were already starting to run out and the waiters started to bring out bowls of a rich soup filled with clams still in their shells.”

“That’s Zuppa Di Vongole,” Tony explained.  “It was one of my grandmother’s favorites.  Or if you don’t eat fish, you’re getting minestrone.”

“How many courses are we having tonight, Tony?” Steve asked.

“Just six,” he said.  “I didn’t go overboard.”

Sharon, Sam, and Clint started laughing, while Steve, Pepper, and Rhodey shook their heads, the look of resigned disbelief was mirrored in all of them.

“Thank you so much for doing all this, Tony,” Bobbi said.  “In a way, it reminds me of dinners with my whole extended family.  Only we all cooked together as well.  And it was a lot more dysfunctional.”

“Give it time,” Bucky muttered.

“You don’t want to cook with all of us,” Bruce said.  “There’s only a couple of people here who can cook.  Most of us burn water.”

“Well part of the fun is passing on tradition, isn’t it?” Bobbi said.  “Bucky’s a great cook.  We’ve been teaching each other different recipes.”

“I didn’t know you liked cooking, Bucky,” Sam said.

Bucky shrugged. “You don’t know lots of things about me.”

Sam looked at him deadpan.  “Well I was going to offer to share some of my family recipes with you, but see if I do now.”

Melody was using one of her clam shells to pick out the clams from the others, but there was still a lot of soup left in her bowl compared to the people around her.  She was a little worried she’d still be eating by the time the next course came out.  She leaned up to Steve’s ear.  “I might need your help to eat all this.”

Steve chuckled.  “And you’re asking me?”

“Think of it as a public service.  Your poor hard done by girlfriend needs to save face,” she whispered.

Steve laughed harder and stole a quick kiss.  “Okay, I’ll help you,” he said.

“Thank you, honey,” she said and kissed his cheek.

Steve shook his head, smiling affectionately as he scooped some of the soup from Melody’s bowl into his own.  She was just getting to the bottom of the bowl when the waiters came out with the next course.  This time it was a salad course.  Most everyone got a Caprese salad, though Tony and Pepper seemed to have gone for something without dairy that featured pear and red cabbage.

“Still avoiding dairy, Tones?” Rhodey asked.

“Well, cutting it down.  It’s hard when there’s a Ben and Jerry’s flavor named after me,” Tony said.

“That’s not the humble brag you think it is, Tones,” Clint said.  “Most of the people here have Ben and Jerry’s flavors named after them.”

“And not one of them is as good as Phish Food,” Maria said.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Tony said.  “Hey now, I won’t hear a thing against Stark Raving Hazelnuts.”

Melody was starting to think she might make it through the entire six courses as she ate her salad.  It was light and fresh, and it didn’t feel like it was filling her up at all.  Then the waiters began bringing out the next course.

“Gnocchi with pesto cream,” Tony said.  “But it’s a cashew cream.”

Melody took a sip of her wine before she started eating.  Before she even took a bite, the conversation had started up again.

“Stark said you interviewed him, Lady Bobbi,” Thor said.

“Yeah, that’s right,” she said.  “We had fun.  You should do it.”

Tony snorted and took a quick swallow of his water.  “Sorry.  I just imagined what it would be like for your team to be making food from 2000 BCE.”

“Just big slabs of meat roasted over coals,” Melody laughed.

“I would not complain,” Thor said.  “A feast is a feast.”

“That sounds better than what I had to eat.  Everything I had was set in jello,” Tony said.

Clint laughed loudly. “Amazing.  I can’t wait to watch it.”

“So what’s the premise?” Sharon asked.

“Just a casual interview while you eat food made from recipes in magazines that came out the year you were born,” Melody said.  “We have other ideas too.  But so far we like that one.”

“That does sound fun.  I hate doing interviews and I’d do that,” Clint said.

“You’d be so welcome,” Melody said.  “I was also thinking of doing a series where we compared things from different chains.  Like pizza or burgers.”

“Oh, oh, I want to do that one,” Clint said.

“I’ll call you to set it up. Thanks, Clint,” Melody said.

“So what did you have to eat Tony?” Natasha said.

“There was a red cabbage salad in a jello that tasted like acid,” Tony said. “This loaf made of creamed liver, this sandwich that was made to look like a cake.”

“Mmm… sounds so appetizing,” Rhodey said.

“I was a little worried he was going to get revenge with this dinner,” Bobbi joked.

“There’s still two courses to go,” Sam said.

Tony laughed hard.  “See, I’m a better person than I thought.  That didn’t even occur to me.”

Despite Steve’s help, Melody was very full by the time she finished the pasta course.  She noticed that most of the other mortals were struggling too.  Pepper’s plate was practically full when they took it away and replaced it with Tuscan-style lamb shanks, while the non-meat eaters were given eggplant parmigiana.  Thankfully, the conversation flowed freely around the room.  So while Melody was feeling overfull, she didn’t feel uncomfortable at all.

The fact that Steve’s friends were all so open to accepting both Melody and Bobbi was gratifying.  Nothing was quite as gratifying as seeing Steve and Bucky enjoying having Melody and Bobbi fit in with their friends.  By the end of the night, Steve had never looked so in love, and it made Melody’s heart feel full every time he looked at her.

By the end of the night and after a serving of Tiramisu served with Vin Santo, Melody not only felt very full but very content.

She said goodnight to everyone and headed to the elevator with Steve.  “Will you spend the night?” Steve asked.

She looked up at him and smiled. “You couldn’t keep me away.”

// NEXT

[featheredmoonwings]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers (except me because obvs I have done it). Spread the self-love ❤

This is a lovely ask thank you!

Now let's see. 5 of my favorite fics I've written, hmmm.

I know no one asked for explanations but I'll give them anyway XD Here they are (these probably change depending on my mood), in no particular order even though they're numbered:

Lonely Stars Drifting In The Black (gen) Why is it fav? I of course CANNNOT go without mentioning this fic. My first, properly long fic that I finished. I remain so proud of what I achieved here and my commitment to writing it all out and FINISHING it. That used to be something so hard for me to do and I'm so proud of how I managed to write these complex relationships without sacrificing the character's morals. I-m still working on the series that sprouted out of it and I'm STILL so happy about the stories coming out of it. Fandom: Star Wars: Prequels Characters: Jango Fett & Obi-wan Kenobi Summary: It's an easy job, go in, get some information, and then Jango Fett can be on his merry way out of the disgusting Death Watch camp which he has nothing but contempt for. It WOULD be an easy job, that is if it weren't for the chained kid they've got, tied up like an animal… Jango sees red and nothing more. He'll make them regret the day they dared to lay hands on a child.

Of The Old Things Hidden In The World (gen) Why is it fav? I consider this one of my most self indulgent projects and I love it for this XD. It's a crossover but I take myself very seriously with it and that's one of the things I like so much about it. Could be silly but I don't let it be. I took a concept that I really liked (Merlin turning Aithusa human) and then I just REALLY ran with that idea. When I would usually hate miscommunication, this story is filled with it but it's purposeful and no one is being stupid about it. Fandom: Merlin BBC x Avengers MCU Characters: Aithusa, Merlin, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff & Clint Barton Summary: Merlin and Aithusa have weathered this world together since the long gone age of Camelot. But now Merlin is in grave trouble and there's nothing Aithusa can do to help him. Merlin has commanded him not to follow, not to help. If Aithusa keeps doing nothing at all, it'll soon break his heart, surely. But… this new age has heroes, perhaps they might help. After all, Hydra IS their problem, isn't it? The should be the ones to deal with it.

A Crime Of Passion (gen, but can definitely be read as shippy) Why is it fav? This story gave me SO much grief but since the MOMENT I conceived this story I've loved the idea and at the end (despite all the problems) I keep loving the result I got from it. I got some good narrative out of it and TENSION. Characters being forced to do something they don't want to my beloved. Fandom: Twilight Characters: Carlisle Cullen & Aro Summary: For the life of Edward, Carlisle Cullen must make a bargain with the devil of Volterra himself, the bargain though, is not at all what the Doctor thought it would be. (Canon Divergence from the end of New Moon)

After The Mist (pre-ship but SUPER gen vibes) Why is it fav? This ones OLD and you can see a lot of mistakes in the writing but I LOVE the interactions that I wrote and the relationship I was crafting. I like it so much, love the idea of the story, that I STILL want to finish it and give it the love it deserves. Fandom: Frozen ll Characters: Agnarr & Iduna Summary: After young Agnarr returns to Arendell that faithful day in the forest, there's a grief too deep inside his chest he cannot begin to comprehend it. But there's no time to dwell on it, he's a king now and he must act as such. Still, he is drowning, he's drowning all the time. But there's someone out there who might just understand what this profound pain is doing to him. "My name's Iduna."

Drizzle By The Sea (Gen) Why is it fav? Another VERY old work which I'm still very fond off. It captures one of the things I love writing the most and it's this little pleasures like walking in the woods or getting soaked by the rain. I find the feeling it produced beautiful and it makes me happy so, yeah. The execution is maybe a bit clumsy but I know what old me wanted to transmit. I keep coming back to this sort of writing and I hope I never stop cause it makes me feel alive and like the world is magic. Fandom: Teen Titans (cartoon) Characters: Robin & Jericho Summary: Jericho is a bit... weird. Robin can see in the way the sea captures his attention that there's a natural feeling and a sense of delight that he carries with him. It's contagious.

Thank you so much for the ask @cilil it made me very happy and I did want to answer something like this today. I'm glad for that emotional boost, so thanks again <3

[scarlet-shakedown]

Midnight Suns - Chapter 3

Summary: Johnny wakes up, being held captive by Marc, Steven, and Layla.

TW: Language, Dark Themes, Mentions of Alcohol & Addiction

My eyes opened slowly. They felt heavy, making it hard to keep them open for long. My throat was dry. I tried to swallow but there was no moisture in my mouth. I needed to drink water, or anything. I tried to get up from the bed I was laying down on, and quickly realized I was stuck. My arms and legs were chained to the mattress.

“What the fuck?” I muttered under my exasperated breath.

“What are you?” A woman asked me who was sitting in the corner of the room with a bag of popcorn in her hand.

“No, who are you?!” I snapped.

She quickly responded, calmly and casually, “No, you’re chained up. My questions take priority.” She paused for a moment and ate a piece of popcorn. “I was told your head was on fire. That sounds pretty painful.

“Jesus.” I sighed and laid my head back. “So that wasn’t a dream.. did I hurt anyone?”

“No, fortunately so. Hold on, have I seen you before? Your face looks familiar.” She said before continuing to snack.

I looked over at her, “I- yeah. I was the lead singer of Johnny Blaze and the Wastelanders.. with me being.. Johnny Blaze.” I winced at the stupid shit I just said.

She looked like she was thinking a bit before replying, “No.. no that’s not it.” She thought for a few more seconds before pointing. “Wasn’t your dad a stunt cyclist?”

I smirked a bit. “Barton Blaze and His Stunt Cycle Extravaganza. You know if he was here, he’d already have started writing an autograph for you.”

She let out a chuckle, “Oh wow. I was never really a fan but my dad loved that stuff.”

“Anyways, you know who I am now. Can I ask your name?” I asked again.

She paused for a moment while looking at me before responding, “I’m Layla.”

I responded softly, “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Layla.”

“You don’t seem like the angry, flaming monster I was told about.” She curiously stated.

“I wasn’t in control for most of last night.” I stopped and looked at my bindings. “It’s actually probably a good idea that I’m tied down.”

Layla tilted her head down and looked up through her hair. She sighed and asked if I wanted anything to eat. I was getting hungry but I couldn’t accept. She left the room soon after.

A rush of guilt and regret flooded over me. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, and the lack of control scared me.

I didn’t know what the thing living in my body was, and in a moment of desperation, I whispered under my breath, “Who are you? What do you want with me?”

I waited for a response. Then I waited a little longer, even though I knew I wouldn’t get one. I stared at the ceiling and spiraled about choices I’d made in my life. I knew this day would come since that day that snake took over my life, and I’d hoped he’d forget about me and I could move, but that was never going to happen.

The Devil himself, has had his grasp on me, and my entire family, for nearly my whole life. It all started with my father. One day he was a famous stunt cyclist, and the next, he was forgotten. He’d tried to make a deal he couldn’t come back from. But the Devil didn’t want his soul. He’d already lived most of his life. So the Devil offered that fame back to my father for the price of his sons’ souls instead, and my dad agreed. After an accident during a stunt left my dad unable to work ever again, my brother secretly took to illegal street racing to earn us some money. He was always a good rider, just like our pops. After months of doing that, he’d gotten into a fatal crash during a race. I still remember when I found out. I was inside watching cartoons. Our doorbell was rung and my dad yelled at me to answer it. That was the first time I met him. A tall, well-fed man in an expensive looking black suit stood in the doorway.

“Hello. You must be little Johnny.. I’ve heard a lot about you. Can I speak to your daddy please?”

I remember my dad stepping outside to talk to him. I watched through the window the whole time, trying to make out what was being said. When the conversation was over, he stumbled back inside and told me about my brother. I was devastated, like any kid who just lost their best friend would be, but it completely broke my father. Before my brother’s death, he would only drink at night. Afterwards, I never saw him without a bottle in his hand.

One night, when he was especially wasted, he’d called me over to talk. He was sobbing, with tears and snot rushing down his face. I tried to ask him what was wrong, but he just grabbed my shoulder hard.

“I’m so sorry, Johnny.” He gurgled. “I let that man take your brother.. and he’s gonna take you too and there’s nothing I can do.”

He spat out other gibberish before he laid down and fell asleep on the couch. I stayed by his side for a while unable to move. I knew. I knew the man he was talking about right away. Less of a man and more of a monster even when he wore the face of a man. I tried not to think about these things often, but being chained up after turning into a flame monster kind of made it the obvious thing to be reminded of.

I heard a knock on the door after a while of spiraling and the man I’d fought walked in.

“Alright, we’re gonna talk.” He paused for a moment. “Well, no. I’m gonna talk, and you’re gonna answer me.”

“Ahh.. you must be Steven.. with a V.” I chuckled under my breath.

“No. I’m Marc.” He responded quickly, not seeming to find anything about this funny.

“Okay.. Marc… what do you wanna talk about?” I snickered back at him.

He answered quickly with a straight face.“You know what. Why were you hunting that werewolf? What are you?”

“Well.. to answer both questions at once, the Devil told me to.” I smiled a bit knowing he wouldn’t appreciate that response.

“Alright, you gonna be a jackass this whole time? Because I’m not very patient and I’m definitely not opposed to wiping that smug look off of your face.” Marc was getting visibly frustrated before he whispered to himself, “Fine. Take over.”

I could see something change in his posture. He was slouching a bit and looked a lot less pouty.

“Hey, mate. Johnny, is it?” The man now spoke in an English accent.

I responded quickly, “Yep. Johnny Blaze, pretty famous musician. So you must be Steve.”

“I prefer Steven, but yes. It’s good to meet you properly, without your skull head scaring the living bejesus out of me.” He said kind of chuckling a bit, but still a little uneasy.

“Yeah.. I definitely still prefer my ugly face over the skull too.” I joked back.

He got back into the conversation Marc was trying to have. “Do you know why that whole monster thing happened by the way?”

I replied, being more honest than I thought I’d be, “Yeah, my pops sold my soul to Devil and that’s somehow not anecdotal.”

“You mean like.. the biblical one? That guy?” He sounded a little baffled.

“Y’know, I didn’t ask him if he knew Jesus but I’ll make a point to next time.”

“Well.. I guess it’s not totally out of the realm of possibility. Marc and I serve the Egyptian god of the moon.” He paused thinking as I raised my eyebrows showing interest. “You told Layla you didn’t have control but you remembered my name was Steven. You were at least conscious then, right?”

I nodded, “Well, yeah. It was different though. Most of the time it feels like I’m in the driver’s seat… but last night, it felt like I was watching what was happening from the back while that thing was driving my body around. It was scary.”

“Hmm… that’s kinda how it feels when Marc has the body. Except it’s not scary anymore.”

We sat for a few moments in silence before a blood curdling scream could be heard from what seemed to be outside.

Marc immediately jolted back into control, and yelled “Layla!” while running out of the room.

“Wait! What’s going on?!” I yelled with no response.

My head starting pounding with pain while the voice of the spirit shook through all my thoughts. “That traitorous witch.” I felt those words almost personally without knowing what they meant.

“Come out here now, Zarathos!” A woman’s voice yelled with booming intensity from outside.

The second that name was spoken, I could feel the chains that bound me becoming looser, and the closer I felt to being unchained, the less I felt in control. The entity in me was breaking out, both mentally and physically. Before I knew it, my skin was melting away again. It was happening quicker than the last time, and less painfully too. Was my body acclimating to it?

I was free, and it was in the driver’s seat once again. It sped out the room and outside with murderous intent. The chains were still dragging from its arms. As it stumbled outside, I saw both Marc and Layla on their knees, pinned with ground with red energy. Standing behind them was a woman in dark red clothing. She stared at me with her piercing, red glowing eyes. She felt powerful and gave the impression that she knew she was.

She tilted her head slightly while maintaining eye contact, and with overwhelming clarity, she spoke, “You’re supposed to be in Hell.”

[nellie7sstuff]

Is it alright that you could do like being tony stark twin brother and bruce banner liking tony's brother. And clint and natasha found out and stared teasing bruce, they also push bruce to ask out male reader which work out well (bruce and reader kept a secret from tony). But bird brain dude accidentally reveal bit of the secret which nat smack clint's head from behind and tony asking from more information. Tony's is not mad but mad about them for keeping it a secret.

Also your free to use these line when your writing it:

Tony💲: Has anyone seen my brother?

Clint🎯: *Busy cleaning his arrows* Yea I did, there having a dinner date.

Tony💲: Oh ok cool....wAiT wHaT!?

Natasha: *Who hears the conversaytion* * whispers* clint you idiot. *smacks clints head from the back*

Tony💲: Clint Barton tell me everything you know including you Natasha Romanoff.

---Later---

Bruce and reader comes home at 9:00

Tony💲: *swich on the lights* Sooo how was your very late date?

Fluff cute and funny please

Thank you very much

-anon🦊

bruce banner x male reader

hii thx for the request!!

[an: js cute happy fluff and maybe a smidge of angst??]

"Hey Bruce, how's it going?" you asked as you walked into the lab. Bruce looked up from his project, eyes darting up to meet your own.

"Hi, uh, Tony's out with Pepper right now so.."

"Oh that's fine, I actually just came to see you," you replied with a smile. Bruce adored your smile. He adored everything about you, actually. But especially your smile. He loved the way it was always genuine. He wasn't very good with people and didn't usually like being around them for very long, but you somehow always made his day better whenever you came around, as aposed to more overwhelming. What was overwhelming however was the fact that he had romantic feelings for you. And what made that even worse was the fact that you were his best friends twin brother. He could tell you two apart, you weren't exactly identical. You also behaved quite differently. You were more open and gentle with people whereas Tony was cocky and egotistical. You were very smart though, much like your twin. You often helped Bruce and Tony with their projects and they greatly appreciated it each time.

"I was just wondering if you are going to be at the party later?" you asked. "Party?" he questioned. "What party?"

"The one my brother's hosting tonight, here," you explained to him. "Oh, I mean I have a lot to get done so-"

"Aw man," you said, accidentally cutting him off. "I was hoping you'd come so I'd have someone to talk to." you said with a disappointed tone. "I mean, I could always finish this another time," Bruce expressed. "Oh, okay so I'll see you there then?" you asked hopefully. "Yeah, I'll be there, (y/n)," Bruce responded.

While at a party later that day, Tony was busy entertaining his guests which left you and Bruce to yourselves. "So," you started. "How's your project going?"

"It's good, you know..its- yeah," Bruce replied awkwardly.

"Good. What are you making?"

"It's a part of Tony's suit actually, yeah it's manly just going to help with versatility and all that stuff.." he began to trail off.

"Cool, let me know if you need any help!" You exclaimed. "Yeah, will-do," he said. You inhaled before saying, "Well, I'm gonna go grab a drink, you want anything?"

"No, thanks (y/n)," Bruce replied.

"Alright then, see you later," you said before walking over to the bar and grabbing a drink.

"Wow, it actually makes me sad to see you like this," a voice appeared behind Bruce which caused him to jump a little. He turned to see Natasha looking at him smugly with her arms folded. Clint stood beside her, looking like he was holding in a laugh. "What?" Bruce asked, confused as to why she would say that. "I mean, it's so obvious that you like him, you look like a lost puppy right now," she explained. "You should ask him out, you guys would look really cute together," she said. Natasha left Bruce to think about her idea to go join you at the bar, making small talk as the bartender made your drinks. "You really should, dude," Clint said. "I wouldn't worry about it too much, he's always seemed pretty into you too, maybe you're the only one who just can't see it."

The next day, Bruce had made a decision. After training that morning he walked up to you. "Hey, (y/n)? I- you know, I was wondering if you would wanna grab dinner tonight, or at some point in the near future, or just not at all if you don't want to or-"

"Bruce, I would love to grab dinner, tonight," you replied, smiling.

"Hey, where's (y/n)? And Bruce, for that matter?" Tony asked as he walked into the weaponry room where he was told he could find Natasha and Clint. Everyone else had there own thing going on, so JARVIS directed him to their location in the building. "Oh they're.." Natasha started, not really sure how to answer. "Out on a dinner date," Clint said, taking the liberty of finishing her sentence for her. He wasnt really paying much attention to who asked the question since he was busy cleaning his arrows. Natasha smacked him on the back of his head. "Why would you tell him that?" she asked, clearly annoyed. "Why wasn't I informed of this, what do you two know about this?" Tony pressed. "I don't want to be a part of this anymore," Natasha said while leaving the room.

The dinner went very well, they went to a quiet restaurant as to not attract too much attention. They decided to just keep thinks low-key(haha) for now since they weren't sure how Tony would react, but the had fun nonetheless. Later, they arrived back at the compound, only to find it completely dark. You reached for the switch to turn the lights back on, and once they were back on you saw your brother sitting sassily in the living room chair. You were too tired to deal with him right now, so you went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

"Did you kids have fun?" He joked.

"Tony, I'm so sorry I-" Bruce started.

"For what? I've never seen (y/n) this happy." He looked passed Bruce to see you grabbing a glass of water in the kitchen, smiling and dancing slightly. He's happy, I'm happy, Bruce."

"Thanks Tony," Bruce said, looking back and smiling at you.

[nekoannie-chan]

Secrets Chapter 16: The beginning of the team

Pairing: Steve Rogers X OFC, Brock Rumlow X OFC.

Word count: 1301 words.

Summary: Sometimes keeping secrets can be dangerous or a heavy burden, which is what Kathleen has been doing for years. She will also be in charge of guiding Steve Rogers into this century; meanwhile, S.H.I.E.L.D. will be looking for a way to kick-start the Avengers Initiative by integrating her as one of the superheroes, but that won't be the only danger they face.

Warnings: Canon fighting, guns.

A/N: After long time working on this longfic, I finally post it. If you wanna be added to the taglist, let me know.

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

Secrets masterlist.

Previous chapter.

Next chapter.

Natasha was with Barton, who had already emerged from Loki's mental manipulation in one of the ship's private compartments, he wanted to know the extent of the damage he caused, but her friend didn't think it was convenient, Kath came in.

“ How are you feeling? “she asked Clint.

“Confused," he replied, he couldn't remember everything that had happened.

“Anzai, could you erase what happened since Loki showed up that night or do something so he can forget? “Asked the redhead, the mutant nodded and approached, the request was simple to fulfill.

“No, I need to remember everything that happened," Clint refused as he stopped the girl's hand, Natasha looked at her imploringly.

“I can do it Romanoff, but if he doesn't want to, I don't think it's fair, it's his decision, I can't go against people's wishes, not when it comes to his mind “ she wasn't going to force anyone or take advantage of her powers, Nat sighed defeated.

In another part of the ship Steve was looking at Tony, he didn't know how to start a conversation with him, even though Kathleen had warned him not to expect him to be Howard's equal, internally he wished he could find his friend in Howard's son.

“ Was he married or did he have a family? “Steve asked her to start a conversation.

“I think there was just a cellist," replied the other, both were grieving, so much so that one began to blame the other for what had happened.

“ Is this the first time you have lost a soldier? “asked the blond, making the other even more upset.

“ Is that how you see us? Do you think that girl is a soldier? She's nothing more than a girl with powers, we're not soldiers and I don't work for Fury," the brown-haired man answered.

“I don't work for him either, he has blood on his hands, but now the most important thing is to stop Loki," the super soldier assured.

“Loki is a diva, he wants to raise a great monument to be worshipped and he needs a great source of unlimited energy..." Tony opened his eyes wide when he realized that his Tower would serve Loki's plans, Steve seemed to understand the same thing.

Immediately Tony went to fix his suit that was damaged when repairing the Helicarrier's engine, so while Steve went to look for Kathleen and Natasha, he entered the compartment where the others were, and Clint was washing himself.

“ Does anyone know how to fly a jet? “asked the Captain.

“I do, I have experience in that," the archer stepped forward before Kath could say anything.

“ Do you trust him? “He turned to the girls, both of whom nodded firmly so there was no doubt. Then put on your uniform, we leave in less than ten minutes," he ordered.

The girls looked at each other confused because they already had it on and everything they needed with them.

Once ready the four approached one of the jets and entered, they were not going to wait for Stark, as he had to get as fast as possible to his Tower, one of the technicians who was inspecting the jet tried to deny them entry, the Captain confronted him and the technicians ended up leaving the jet and the team set off towards Stark Tower.

“ Have you gone on many missions together? “Steve asked Kath.

“Not really, they just trained me separately, well, sort of, it's complicated, mmm... We haven't had any missions together, in fact, they have had several together, mine are with Brock or alone “she answered.

“ Are they together? “He thought it was strange how close the other agents were.

“I don't know, I don't think so," answered the girl, she knew the truth, she had read their minds, but she knew she couldn't tell any details if it didn't appear in the Organization's documents it meant it was secret.

Before they arrived, Stark found the Asgardian in his Tower, after an exchange of words Loki flew Tony out of the Tower, and the billionaire sent for one of his suits.

The Chitauris began to enter the earth through the portal, the people surprised and frightened without knowing that they were those monsters, run terrified to take refuge where they could. Thor arrived at the Tower trying to make his brother see reason without success.

At first, they did not know well where to start counterattacking, Tony did it in an aerial way, while the others arrived on the ship, realizing the presence of the others, Loki launched a power with the scepter causing damage to the jet, so they had to make an emergency landing in the middle of the street, the four left the ship and began to get rid of the monsters. Tony asked if Banner had arrived yet, they still hadn't found him, and at the same time, Loki and Thor were still fighting.

Kath separates a little from the group to try to heal some injured people, protect others and throw energy balls against some Chitauris, there was a lot of confusion, and there was really no plan of attack, she cursed mentally, the STRIKE team and the rest of the Organization's teams were supposed to coordinate with the emergency services to protect the citizens. Elsewhere, Natasha and Clint were fighting together against the monsters.

“This reminds me of Budapest," the agent commented animatedly.

“ Does it? I remember it very differently," she launched other arrows.

Suddenly the council told Fury that they decided to launch a missile to end the threat, they began to argue until the director realized it was in vain, he ran to the surface of the Helicarrier to try to stop the ship that would launch the missile without success, he immediately warned Stark through the transmitter, it was probably easier for him to reach him.

“Kitty, if Stark doesn't manage to get rid of the missile, I'll need you to open a portal to get rid of it, they can't mess up the plan we have," he ordered through another transmission channel to Kath so no one else would know.

“I understand, there's not much time left, is there? “She felt more and more tired, which meant she had to save a little more power for that emergency.

“If she doesn't make it in two minutes, you know what to do," she told her, the girl replied in the affirmative.

In the Helicarrier, everyone was watching attentively through the screens what was happening, they saw how Stark managed to put the missile through the portal, but he was running out of energy and the oxygen began to decrease, seeing that it did not return, Steve gave the order to close the portal to Natasha, she closed it, but Kathleen opened another one without anyone noticing so that Stark could get out, so it seemed that he had returned before they closed the portal, in the Helicarrier everyone began to celebrate, Fury was satisfied with the results, it would be easier to get what he wanted before the council.

Tony took them almost dragging them to the shawarma place, they no longer had much energy to argue, the owners of the place when they saw that those who entered were the heroes who had saved the island from those monsters did not refuse to serve them despite how destroyed the place had been. They ate in silence when they finished Natasha and Clint left together, and Bruce stayed with Tony who was trying to calm down a hysterical Pepper over the phone, Thor went to where they had his brother, he felt the obligation to make sure he did not escape again.

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