#everytime i hear a mention about it i overthink about it and end up nearly crying

[sugaabooga]

Chance | 5

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader | Jimin x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, rich!Seokjin, rich!Jimin

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: PG-13, alcohol consumption, alcohol intoxication, societal classes

Synopsis: Seokjin had no problem of getting girls and also had no problem of getting rid of them. One girl after the next. So why was it that you - a middle-class citizen - was an exception? You - a middle-class citizen - made Seokjin question if he really did have it all. But one thing’s for sure. He didn’t have any of your chances.

Clank.

The glass in Seokjin’s hand nearly shatters at the sheer force he slams it down on the bar counter.

Seokjin grunts, sloppily gesturing towards the wide-eyed bartender who stares at him with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry sir,” he says with a gentle voice. “I’m afraid you’ve had too much to drink. Do you have anyone to pick you up or should I call a cab?”

Seokjin whines, laying his head against the counter and wriggling his body as if there was a rat crawling up and down his body.

“Mur,” Seokjin pouts.

“Excuse me?” the bartender leans forward in hopes of hearing some kind of name of number he could call.

Seokjin lifts up his body feeling heavier than usual and props his hand under his chin to look straight at the young man in front of him.

“Jungcoook?” Seokjin squints at the bartender’s name tag, arm sliding from underneath him.

Jungkook smiles good-naturedly, quite nice for a mere bartender who deals with countless drunkards each night.

“That’s me,” he answers. “It’s getting close to the end of my shift and I would like to send you home before I go.”

Seokjin nods heartily at him. “Yur a nice kid.”

Jungkook shrugs, setting aside a glass he just finished wiping dry. “Just doing my job I guess.”

“You see,” Seokjin sighs, eyeing the bottle of whiskey a few inches away from where Jungkook stands. “I can’t call anyone.”

Jungkook nods. “I’ll hail a cab.”

Seokjin merely hums as Jungkook turns around to place the glasses on the shelf behind him. Taking this as a chance, Seokjin uses all the soberness left in him to reach over the counter and grab the whiskey bottle by the neck, hurriedly and sloppily pouring out the alcohol into his empty glass.

“Which area do you- SIR!” Jungkook shrieks mid-question, turning around to see Seokjin hastily gulp down the remains of the drink. Jungkook snatches the glass from his hand in exasperation before Seokjin can tilt his glass again for the last few drops left underneath the ice cubes.

“No cab,” Seokjin mutters as Jungkook merely sighs. Why was this wealthy man, probably mid to late twenties, drowning himself in drinks tonight?

Jungkook bets this guy wouldn’t even have to work part-time jobs like he had to in order to make ends meet. So why was he so miserable?

Seokjin huffs, yanking out his phone and fingers automatically finding a specific name in his contacts.

He rests his head on the counter once again as he strategically places his phone on top of his ear, letting the rings lull him in and out of consciousness.

__

“How’d you even know I was working overtime?” you ask Jimin who lazily spins around in his chair.

“I called Hoseok for a drink but he said he was too tired and mentioned how you were working past working hours,” Jimin recalls. “Again.”

“And you just. . . decided to come?”

Jimin nods. “Of course. Can’t have you suffering alone.”

You blink a few times at the man who appears quite nonchalant about this whole ordeal while you were purely confused at how you were supposed to feel. This wouldn’t be weird if that intimate moment a few days back hadn’t happened.

You were sure his hand lingered longer than usual after he had gently tucked your hair behind your ear and his eyes gazed with a look you’ve never seen before.

You quickly shake the thought out of your head, refusing to mull over that moment more than you needed to. He was merely comforting you as a friend. There was no need to overthink anything. Those things can happen from time to time.

Then the rest of his sentence registers in your head. Once again, the fact that Jimin even calls Hoseok regularly surprises you despite it being widely known in your department how Jimin was probably the only one who free-spiritedly joked around with Hoseok. “You. . . You’re close with Hoseok, right?”

Jimin immediately hums in response, as if he didn’t know how intimidated everyone was of the marketing manager and actively avoided any sort of contact with him.

“I mean. . . he’s only a year older than us,” Jimin states, making you turn to him in shock.

“WHAT!?” you gasp. You had assumed Hoseok was at least four years older than you. Now you realize, he did look quite young, but his workplace habits were of an accomplished forty year old who was ready to retire early.

Jimin giggles at your shock. “Yeah. It’s pretty obvious though. That hyung really is youthful. He’s actually fairly optimistic and a great listener. Which makes him the perfect drinking buddy.”

You roll your eyes at Jimin’s alcohol fanaticism making an appearance. “Well, you do know about his reputation in the office right?”

Jimin stops his swiveling, turning to look at you properly. His gaze switches to a more serious gaze as he lowers his voice. “Cold caller baller?”

You break out into a smile, scrunching your nose in the process at Jimin’s genuine inquiry. “What the hell is that?” you laugh. “I meant how everyone treats him like ‘he who shall not be named’. Everytime someone mentions,” pause “Hoseok,” you whisper, making Jimin scoff. “He randomly appears and scolds the whole team.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Now that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard about.”

You open your mouth to protest but freeze as Jimin shifts closer, his head just a few inches away from yours.

“It’s probably because Hoseok’s the only one in our department who gives a shit about his job,” Jimin smirks, playfully dropping to a low whisper at Hoseok’s name. “That’s why everyone’s scared. They can’t handle his professionalism.”

You gulp, barely noticing the hidden indirect insult Jimin purposely shot at you with the purpose of agitating you, and instead being able to only focus on why he was so close to you and why you felt like you suddenly couldn’t breathe.

Jimin’s smirk slightly drops into a concerned frown when he realizes you aren’t reacting the way he had expected you to react.

“Y/N?”

Bang.

Both of you look up in alarm towards the entrance of the office that leads out to the elevators at the echo of something crashing into the wall.

Jimin stands up from his chair, leaning his body back to look as far as he can out the glass doors.

“Was someone else working overtime?” he asks, earning a shake of your head. Jimin starts heading towards the doors to check out the sound as you click out of your tabs for the night. Everything else that was left on your slides, you could finish up tomorrow morning. Right now, you were quite convinced that you were very exhausted, especially judging from the way you suddenly froze up in close proximity with your long-time best friend whom you had only platonic feelings for.

You let out a long exhale, forcing the thought out of your brain and logging out of your computer then carefully placing the flash drive with all the project details into your bag’s inner pocket. After half-heartedly organizing your desk area and cubicle, you walk towards the exit, heels softly clacking against the tiles as Jimin comes in through the doors peering into a black bag.

“What’s that?” you ask curiously. Jimin looks up and turns back around to head towards the elevators after noticing that you were done for the night.

“I don’t know,” he answers. “It was dropped against the wall which was probably the sound we heard.”

“Is there anything in it?”

Jimin nods, pulling out a bag of chips. “Snacks.”

You can’t help but let your jaw slightly drop at the sight of food after working for hours straight without a proper meal since 2pm.

It was your favorite brand of chips too.

“Gimme,” you pout, making Jimin chuckle.

“I don’t think we should just take it though,” he hesitates. “Isn’t it kind of bad to take something someone else bought? Without permission?”

“But it was literally on the floor,” you reason, not as morally righteous as your friend beside you.

Jimin still debates, fiddling with the handle of the bag. “Hey there’s a lunchbox in here.”

He fishes out the bulgogi meal pack with rice and a few other pre-packaged side dishes. Your eyes widen at the humble meal as if it were a five-star lobster.

“Okay, forget the chips,” you gasp. “We have to eat the lunchbox. If it’s left here uneaten, it’s going to spoil! What a waste that would be!”

Jimin laughs at your logic but still shakes his head. “Let’s just drop this off at the front desk.”

You purse your lips in distaste as the elevator finally dings, indicating its arrival.

Jimin grins, internally cooing at how cute you were.

“Dinner’s on me,” he adds as you begrudgingly press the lobby button.

You whip around to him, instantly perking up with newfound energy. “For real!?”

Jimin is nearly floored by your glistening eyes that were sparkling just because he offered to buy you dinner. He can’t help but match your wide grin as he nods. “Yup. Just name it! Actually, besides the five-star restaurants downtown.”

You snicker as Jimin quickly draws the boundaries to your food choices.

The one time you went out for dinner with him after college graduation, your food suggestion resulted in a $285 check for two steaks and a teeny tiny salad.

Your jaw had dropped all the way down to the floor at the sight of the bill. You tried to split the bill but Jimin had physically pushed you out of the restaurant, insisting to pay for the meal.

Even to this day, you have no idea how Jimin managed to pay the bill as a fellow broke college student who had yet to land a stable income.

“Hm. . . I’m craving donkatsu,” you say, indirectly asking Jimin if he was okay with pork cutlet for dinner.

“Donkatsu!” Jimin exclaims with a wide grin. 

“I take it that you agree?” you say with a scoff at his child-like excitement at the mention of his favorite food and playfully nudge his shoulder when the elevator doors open.

Jimin gulps at your playful grin and your bright eyes peering up at him, making his heart stutter and mind going blank.

Geez. What was wrong with him today? Either you were extra attractive or he was just more whipped than usual.

“Jimin?” you ask confusedly when he remains standing still in the elevator with an indecipherable look.

Jimin’s head jerks up at the sound of his name and he glances around, confused at when the elevator doors had opened and when you had already left his side.

“Park!” you yell, catching Jimin’s attention from his distracted glances around the elevator.

“Yes?” he immediately responds, making you look at him with pure bewilderment.

“You good?”

Jimin breathily laughs making you crack a hesitant smile.

“Yeah I’m-”

“Oh Y/N!” the front desk receptionist on night duty calls. You turn around at the sound of her voice and give her a polite smile, walking towards her desk.

Meanwhile, Jimin hurriedly presses the open door button as the elevator doors start to close and quickly follows after you.

“Hey. . .” you trail off, unable to remember her name.

“Soo-ah,” Jimin smiles at her with a slight jog, catching up to you and saving you from embarrassment.

Soo-ah grins back at the charming man in front of her, not even noticing that you had forgotten her name despite the years both of you worked here.

“Soo-ah,” you repeat with a smile.

“Congratulations, Y/N,” Soo-ah says right off the bat.

Your brows slightly raise in question, exchanging a confused glance with Jimin.

“For… what?” you ask.

Did I get a raise I don’t know about?

Soo-ah slightly tilts her head. “I heard you got scouted by JJ Corps.”

“JJ Corps?” you and Jimin ask simultaneously, eyes widening.

Seokjin’s company?

Our company?

“Yeah. The director himself came and asked which floor you were on,” Soo-ah pauses. “Wait. . . I just realized that it’s past the normal office hours. How did he know you were working overtime?”

Jimin frowns. If it was the director, that would be Seokjin. 

Seokjin came?

“Did you get his name?” Jimin asks the befuddled receptionist before you can open your mouth.

You shoot Jimin a slight glance, noting how Jimin almost seemed agitated. Last time, Jimin had known Seokjin’s name even though you made sure not to tell anyone since Seokjin was such a known public figure. And now, it almost seemed as if Jimin was on the same page as you, suspecting that it was Seokjin who had come over.

“Um. . .” Soo-ah tries to recall, attracting your attention once again and keep in mind to mention it to Jimin later. Her eyes lighting up in remembrance. “Ah! I think it was Kim. . . Seojik? Seonjin?”

“Seok...jin?” you hesitantly suggest. Soo-ah lets out a sound of recognition and nods.

“Ah. Yes, yes. It said Kim Seokjin, Director of JJ Corps on his business card.”

Jimin holds in his questions and scans your reaction. For the first time in your years of friendship, Jimin couldn’t read your face. Your lips were turned into a grim line and your eyes seemed blank, void of any emotion.

You nod with a wry smile, mumbling a thank you and greeting goodnight to Soo-ah and turn around, walking towards the lobby doors.

Jimin stands watching your retreating figure with slight worry and hurriedly snatches out the bag of your favorite chips and hands the rest of the black bag to Soo-ah.

“Oh?” Soo-ah lets out a noise of surprise at the familiar bag. “This was what Mr. Kim was hold-”

Soo-ah stops mid-sentence at the realization that she was alone. A small smile appears as she scoffs in amusement watching Jimin trail after you like a lost puppy with the chips in hand. Jimin playfully, but hesitantly pokes the side of your face with a tiny, shy smile, forcing you to give him your attention. Soo-ah sighs, plopping back down onto her swivel chair once you take the chips with a roll of your eyes. Jimin’s arm hovers over your shoulder as he debates whether to put his arm around you. His fist clenches as he decides against it and Jimin continues walking with his hands behind his back.

Soo-ah sighs with pity at his internal debate that she just witnessed.

“Will she ever notice?” Soo-ah mutters to herself at the unfortunate sight of Jimin quite obviously whipped for a girl who has no idea of his feelings.

__

“Bus is here,” Jimin announces nudging you up off the bus stop bench.

You climb up the steps and fiddle around your bag for your pre-paid bus pass. The bus driver softly sighs as you continue rummaging with a apologetic smile.

“Two please,” Jimin intercepts with his own card from behind you.

Beep.

His chest gently presses against your back, his warmth wrapping around your cold frame draped around with a thin cardigan.

Before you can think anything more of how comforting his warmth felt, your feet jut out, walking towards the two seats on the left side of the bus as the driver continues to drive his nightly route.

“Thanks,” you say as you sit down.

Jimin shakes his head as a sign of no problem. He follows after you, plopping down on the cushiony seat next to you and setting his bag onto his lap.

You try to ignore Jimin’s burning stare at the side of your face by mindlessly scrolling on your phone then give up with a huff once Jimin doesn’t look away for a few good seconds.

“What?” you sigh, turning your head to look at your friend. You instinctively shift backwards once you notice the close proximity.

Jimin silently studies your face for a quick second before offering you a small smile. “Finish the chips already?”

You roll your eyes with a light-hearted scoff. “Yes. I told you. I was hungry. I threw them away while you were looking down the street for the bus.”

Jimin laughs with a nod. “Good job. That was the appetizer.”

You smile to yourself, savoring these small moments with Jimin in your life.

“Are you uh. . . Are you okay?”

You stay silent for a moment before letting out a breathy laughing with a smile, looking up at the back of another passenger’s head. “What do you mean? Of course I’m okay.”

“I’m talking about Seokjin,” Jimin specifies bluntly.

You weren’t quite sure if you were okay. All you could think of were endless questions. Why had he come to your office? Why didn’t he call or text instead? It’s been a full two weeks since you last met up with him about the money envelope.

You look back down at your bag perched on your lap and unknowingly fiddle with the end of your gudetama keychain, a nervous habit of yours.

Jimin feels his own fingers twitch, reaching out towards your fidgety ones before he stops himself.

You had made yourself somewhat clear last time. Jimin felt you draw a certain line. Whether it was fear or genuine dislike, he wasn’t sure, but all he knew was that the two of you had boundaries that he had to keep in order to keep your friendship out of jeopardy.

Jimin sighs, reminding himself that your friendship is more important than his confusing feelings and pulls away his hand.

RRing.

At the sound of the obnoxious rings, you dig into your bag, looking for your phone.

The rings continue, attracting attention from the other passengers on the bus, and it’s only when Jimin feels the glares and hears harsh whispers directed in his direction that he fully turns to you, wondering why you weren’t picking up the call.

You stay still as a statue looking down at your phone. Jimin side-eyes your phone, lips slightly parting in realization once he reads the caller id.

Kim Seokjin.

You stare at your screen, reading the name over and over again, tuning out the rest of the bus who were now thoroughly annoyed.

It is only when the call ends and your family picture pops back up that you let out a shaky breath.

You start to put your phone back in your bag when the rings start again. A series of groans and sighs fill the bus.

Kim Seokjin.

Why was he calling? What else does he have to say?

“Aren’t you going to pick up?”

Your head sharply turns at Jimin’s question.

��What?”

Jimin shrugs, avoiding your eyes. “If you’re debating that much about answering his call, just answer it. If you’re over him, tell him clearly so he knows your definite stance in your relationship.”

You stay silent, pondering for a brief moment and finally get enough courage to swipe your finger across the call button.

“H-Hello?” you answer.

“Good evening,” an unfamiliar voice greets back, making your brows furrow and double-check if this was really Seokjin.

“Uh. . . who is this?” you ask as you see Jimin turning to you from the corner of your eye.

“Ah. Sorry about the inconvenience. This is Jeon Jungkook from Sky Lounge and I am calling from customer Kim Seokjin’s cell phone. Mr. Kim seems severely drunk at the moment and I saw that he called you just a few seconds ago so I figured you were somewhat closely affiliated with him?”

“Oh. . .No. . . Well, used to be, I guess,” you answer with uncertainty at the relation you have with Seokjin.

Have a definite stance in your relationship.

“Ah, well we need-”

“I would like to think I have very little relation to Mr. Kim,” you state. “I hope you can get him home safe. My apologies.”

“Wait Ma’am-”

You quickly tap the red button to end the call and toss your phone into your bag.

“Was that not Seokjin?” Jimin asks confusedly as you let out a long exhale.

You shake your head. “It was. . . but. . .”

He’ll get home safe, right? The Jungkook guy sounded nice over the phone. He’ll hail a cab or something right? But Seokjin seems dead drunk. What if he accidentally sleeps with a girl or gets taken advantage of? He’s currently in a vulnerable state. The bartender also mentioned that Seokjin called himself before he gave a second call. Why would Seokjin call me if he’s drunk? Maybe he wants me specifically to pick him up? Does he have no one else to call? Is that why he had no choice but to call me?

“Was it some manager or something? That rude rich people stu-”

“Sorry Jimin,” you hastily apologize, slamming the red button on the side of the bus, indicating for the bus driver to pull over on the curb. “Let’s get dinner tomorrow. I’ll call you later.”

Jimin sputters as you climb over his legs and speedily shuffle towards the open sliding doors.

“W-Wait. I’ll go with you.”

You hop off the bus, Jimin closely behind you as the bus takes off to leave the both of you in the middle of a random sidewalk near downtown.

“Y/N,” Jimin calls, grabbing hold of your wrist to turn you around and forcing you to stop in the midst of your hurried steps.

You’re slightly out of breath when you respond with a quiet ‘yea?’

“Can you please explain what’s going on?” he asks.

You sigh, tugging Jimin’s arm to walk while you explain. “It was a bartender at Sky Lounge. Apparently, Seokjin’s drunk right now.”

You cared. You still cared about Seokjin. Jimin’s lips turn into a straight line as he tries to ignore the bitter feeling entering him.

“I’m sure he’ll get home safe. The bartender will hail a cab for him or call someone else in his contact list.”

That’s rational. That’s the logical facts.

“I. . . I know,” you reply as Jimin catches up the few steps to walk beside you. “But I have to see for myself to get rid of this worrying feeling. What if something happens to him?”

Jimin suppresses the urge to tell you that there’s little to none possibility that someone as tall and intimidating as Seokjin, under the supervision of bartenders at a top-class bar, falls in danger. 

“Yeah. I get it,” Jimin lies.

He doesn’t get it.

You look at google maps pulled up on your phone that directs you to Sky Lounge, around a two-minute walk from where you currently are. You turn your head to your surroundings, finding something quite familiar about the buildings and restaurants in this specific part of downtown.

“There?” Jimin points towards the fancy looking bar near the end of the street.

The banner read in cursive, dark maroon red and white light, Sky Lounge.

“Yeah. Seems to be the place,” you pause, looking around once more. You recognize this street. “Hey isn’t that the five-star restaurant we ate in last time?”

Jimin follows your gaze to the said restaurant that he had paid for a while back. Jimin grimaces at the memory of his father pestering him if he had a girlfriend after that big gap in his credit card at a hot romantic dating spot.

“Yeah,” Jimin answers. “Sky Lounge is a luxury bar which is why all the five-star restaurants and stores are gathered here.”

“The elite town,” you smack your lips, adjusting your bag and walking down the sidewalk, past the flashy lamps and designer brand stores.

Soon enough, you arrive in front of the bar and with no hesitation, you pull open the glass doors only to get pulled by the doors yourself.

These were a lot heavier than you thought.

Jimin snickers next to you, nudging you aside and pulling the doors open with ease.

“I told you, you need to hit the gym,” Jimin mutters from behind you while you hurry into the bar with a half-hearted thanks, eyes scanning the tables and counters with all types of couples, businessmen, and businesswoman mingling and getting drunk.

You squint under the dim lights and spot a lone, slumped over figure at the counter. A tuft of dark brown hair poked out between the figure’s arms as their legs haphazardly dangled from underneath them. You glance at the coat draped over the man’s chair and you immediately recognize it as one of Seokjin’s designer brand coats that he wore the most often.

By often, you meant once every three months.

You quickly make your way over to Seokjin and try to shake him awake.

“Seokjin?” you clarify, grasping his arm and simultaneously shaking his shoulder.

You hear a series of incoherent grumbles and with a sudden jerk of his head, Seokjin’s eyes meet yours and they seem to bore into your soul.

Seokjin laughs in surprise, a whiff of strong liquor drifting into your nostrils and making you scrunch up your nose.

“Y/N,” Seokjin giggles.

Oh, he was extremelyyy drunk.

“Seokjin,” you sigh. “Why’d you drink so much? No, actually tell me later. Let’s get you home first, alright?”

Seokjin’s bottom lip juts out as he wiggles out of your grasp. “I aM a big kid. NO. Man. I’m a big, caaaaaapable man. You see thiS fACe? Wuuurldwide hannsum.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “Are you now?”

Seokjin nods with a slight laugh.

You slightly pause in your tugging to properly take a look at him.

Despite the fact that he was drinking right now, it seemed that Seokjin still looked as healthy and unaffected as ever. Quite contrary to you whose hair was tied into a messy bun and eyes were slightly swollen every single morning from tearing up or straight up sobbing yourself to sleep.

How was it possible that a dead drunk man could still be so handsome? His reddened cheeks only made his face glow with a child-like innocence and put an odd emphasis to his lack of pores. The dim lighting of the bar only seemed to make his eyes brighter as he sat near the lights on the shelves. His tousled, messy hair only added to his attractiveness as he grumbled under his breath with those pouty pink lips.

“Are you Miss Y/N?”

You’re pulled out of your daze by a familiar voice. Over the counter stood Jungkook, the employee who had called you.

You immediately nod. “Yes. that’s me.”

Jungkook represses the urge to point out how you made it seem like you weren’t ever going to show up in Seokjin’s life again over the phone and instead shoots you a grateful smile. 

“Thank goodness. I’m Jungkook. The employee who called you earlier. My shift is almost over so I was just about to call a cab. Having someone Mr. Kim knows to pick him up is a lot more assuring.”

“Yeah. I got a little worried, so I just decided to come myself,” you say with a small laugh.

A movement from the corner of your eye makes you turn your attention to Seokjin who was attempting to stand up from his stool. As if in slow motion, Seokjin’s foot gets caught on the stool’s footrest, his eyes still closed from intoxication. His heavy form starts to lean towards you and before you know it, he’s full on falling towards your small frame, your helpless arms reaching out in a pointless attempt to brace yourself against a full grown man’s deadweight.

But, the impact of his body never comes.

Jungkook curiously eyes the other man in the picture who holds Seokjin in an awkward hug, shielding him from your body.

You peer up at Jimin who huffs as he waddles Seokjin back down onto the stool. Keeping his arm supporting Seokjin’s back, Jimin turns to Jungkook.

“Did this guy pay?” he asks.

Jungkook nods with widened eyes at what he just witnessed. “Yes. I charged everything to his card just a few minutes ago.”

Jimin nods and grabs Seokjin’s coat, poorly attempting to shove the drunken man’s limp arms through the holes with one arm while holding him up with the other arm.

You quickly intercept and help hold up the coat for Jimin who gives you a brief smile before successfully draping the coat around Seokjin and buttoning it up.

“Hey, can you help him get on my back?” Jimin asks with a non arguable tone.

You push away the habitual need to protest whenever Jimin gets too caring and instead nod with a slight sigh.

Seokjin whines as Jimin adjusts him on his back with a grunt.

“Have a good evening,” Jimin greets Jungkook, you doing the same as you swing Jimin’s bag over your own shoulder and trail after him.

Jungkook gives you a slight bow and quickly wipes down the counter where Seokjin was slobbering over before leaving. He tilts his head as he takes off his apron with genuine amusement at the relationship dynamic between the three of you.

It was quite obvious you had some kind of history with Seokjin judging from the tone of your voice over the call and after, your reaction. Perhaps an ex? Then, Jimin. Where did he fit in the picture?

Jungkook hums with a shake of his head, checking out with a beep of his employee card. If Jimin wasn’t romantically interested in you yet, he sure will be soon as seen from the way he was constantly putting himself between you and Seokjin.

How interesting, Jungkook muses. There would definitely be heartbreak between that trio.

[xgoldxnhour]

The crackle of his voice was rejuvenating—like ice in the veins immediately alternated with a warmth so succumbing…it could only come from him.

“Y’know what, I’m—I actually might have the wrong…number...” The joke is quick, but holds no less delight as she’s beaming. God—it’s good to be here again—here as in, sitting on comms, on the other end as he plays hero. A far less pressuring position in her eyes. Support. Support, she can do. Always. Though she’s glad she has ears rather than eyes. 1. She’d probably get motion sick since it’s been awhile now that she’s no longer really calibrated. Or conditioned herself enough not to hurl on the spot. 2. There’s still a tinge of fear that hangs at the back of her mind that this won’t work. That he won’t find JARVIS. That he’s caught and killed like Cap. Or worse. But, perhaps only hearing is a far worse fate—left to fend her own imagination—defenseless.

He’s distracting her. Whether he knows he is or not is meaningless as it’s working. Talking about trips and old times that need to revisited—making promises to keep her mind from directing worst case scenarios. Overthinking, as always, which was probably one of the reasons why he hired her once upon a time. Always thinking the angles. Just not when each angle points a gun to his head or has him plummeting to his death.

“Pretty sure last time you took me flying, I was in and out of consciousness.” The Ghost attack. But, she laughs anyways. Of course, she does, because it’s El. This sweet, naive thing that somehow can’t seem to hold grudges nor have a single speck of self preservation. Would she be here if she did? Even though, that’s not the flight he’s fully mentioning when he brings up Colorado. “That trip was my favorite, y’know.” They’ve travelled all over the world together. From Dubai to Quebec, but her favorite was this small trip that they didn’t even stay a day. But, my was the view something.

“I wanna go to Ireland. Never been.” She finishes, leaning back into the seat with another one of those award winning smiles. He can hear it on her. Funny how it’s made its return since they’ve reunited. “Think I’ve got some miles saved up for us.”

She pauses, her stomach suddenly feeling queasy as it nearly drops again at the thought that this could be their last call. Somehow her mind can’t seem to let that go. “Tony—“ El starts, though the words taste bitter—poisonous—everytime they try to come up. That she’s scared. That she doesn’t want anything happened to him. That…that she loves him.

xgoldxnhour​:

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” No, she wouldn’t leave him alone. Not again.

The last thing he sees is the soft smile of his former assistant…and close friend. Dust flies everywhere, paper tossed by the force of his lift-off. Nearly takes her breath away. Still. She never quite got used to it. There she stands in the aftermath, watching the dot fly across the sky, growing farther and farther away. El waits until he’s a mere memory.

“Didn’t even get to do my whole…cabin safety routine.” She smirks, looking back toward the trailer that is her possession for the time being—until he comes back. No emergency exits. No SkyMall. No free peanuts or pretzels. Pity.

Walking by, El doesn’t pay much mind to the mess left and moves straight to the comms. Spring cleaning will have to wait.

Though as she sits, she is once again impressed by the mind of one Tony Stark. After the year of desolate disappointment—he continues to be the smartest man she knows—one who makes something out of nothing. There’s a earpiece though it looks decades old rather than the usual ones the size of a peanut. This one is basically a band with a small microphone that he jimmied up or found hidden somewhere. Like if she worked for a call center. Or NASA. She’d probably pick NASA.

“This is Goose to Maverick, how’s it looking up there, Ace? Been awhile since we’ve done this, huh? Hope you didn’t forget the sound of voice during the year.”

For a moment, there was silence. It had been a long time since he could say that about an Iron Man flight. In the beginning, when he’d first made his way out of that cave, it hadn’t really been silent–there’d been the clattering of bulky metal, the pang of bullets hitting the shell and bouncing off, the explosions of his own bombs set off and men yelling–but in the suit, in the helmet, once he’d flown away from all of that, there had been something like this: the whiz of the air all around him, the stillness and quiet that came with being hundreds of feet above the world. A man alone with his thoughts. 

Which was something Tony adamantly hated. 

So he’d stopped being alone with his thoughts about as quickly as those thoughts could find him a solution. He’d installed JARVIS, whose main duties might have been to navigate and run intel, but also–and he’d never admit this to anyone–kept him company on long flights. As he flew, Tony imagined El below, and two visions of her warred in his mind: one in which she walked back to the trailer, put on the mic, and stuck around, the other in which she came to her senses, got back in her car, and left, left him become a memory of a bad job she’d had once upon a time. 

Then her voice broke through the static and relief flooded him like a physical force. Pathetic, he thought. But he was smiling as he replied, “I’m sorry, who is this?” The truth was, he was never going to forget her voice. It just wasn’t possible. Well, at least not until he completely lost his marbles and his memory went with his sanity. That was inevitable, but if he had anything to say about it, at least another couple of decades away. “You sound good, Goose,” he said sincerely this time. He didn’t think he’d ever been so happy to hear anyone’s voice in his life. 

Sure, the suit was half made. He was freezing without the fancy insulated armor he used to have, and the left boot flickering on and off, so at times, he’d be flying straight, and at others, he’d plummet two feet before shooting up a little too high to overcompensate, and dropping again, rinse and repeat. But he was flying. And El was on the comms, and for the first time in a year, things felt right.

“You should see the view from up here. Almost as good as that trip to Colorado.” Back when things were in full swing–when he had money–they’d taken a lot of international trips together, always meeting with foreign companies and sources. But there had been a handful of domestic trips too, conferences or work site walk-throughs, and in those days, Tony had brought El with him almost everywhere. That trip to Colorado had been surprisingly beautiful, the private plane dipping low above the mountains and the river rushing below. “We should take a trip when this is all over. Might even be able to afford business class sometime.” It was said lighthearted and was meant to be a joke, but there was truth in it too: they wouldn’t be flying first class or by private jet for a very long time, even if Tony did get things together enough to start rebuilding.