#good omens has done a number on me poor brain

[aziraphalalala]

Good Omentober #1 Pre-fall

Thanks for the prompts @disaster-dog! Here is the first fruit of my scrambled brain.

^^^^

It wasn’t a dark and stormy night. Nights hadn’t been invented yet. Muriel, a 37th order scrivener angel, had just popped into existence for the first time. They knew this, instinctively, like they knew their name. 

They looked around. There was nothing around them. Inside their head, canopying every other thought, there was the bell-clear will of God, their Lord. 

Muriel looked down at their pristine white robes. They seemed to emanate a pure white light, and while Muriel wasn’t sure what “freshly laundered” really meant, these robes were definitely it.

They looked around again. Was there some scrivening they should be getting up to?

In the distance, a faint glimmer. 

If they were going to scriven, they supposed it didn’t have to happen in a specific place, seeing that all places were the same place in the raw firmament. 

Muriel exerted their will, and somehow, without really knowing how, they started to float towards the glimmer.

Now there were two clear shapes there!

Something was going on, and someone might need to record those events. They floated closer. Suddenly, everything shook. 

Could the firmament, essentially nothing, shake? Apparently it could. This was getting interesting. They heard the two figures speak.

“Hello! I’m… Aziraphale,” one of them said.

“Nice meeting you.” Dismissive. “Ooookay, here goes! Let there be matter, let there be gravity, let there be everything from pages 11 to 3,000,602 inclusive.”

The two figures looked around, expectant. Nothing happened.

“Is something meant to happen?” Aziraphale asked, timidly.

The other angel looked bemused. 

“Oh right, sorry! Yes, yes. Huh. Knew I missed one.” A beatific smile rose on his face. 

Aziraphale looked happy.

“Let there be light.”

Everything began. An unbridled, forceful laughter of pure joy punched out of Muriel. The two other angels remained in the forefront, watching as stars and galaxies fell across the tapestry of the universe like multicolored rose petals. Star nurseries gained shape and shone in the brilliance of infinite dimensions and whispered of black holes and supernovas in the far, far future. Light sped, as it does, across distances vaster than mind can comprehend, lending life and luminescence to every speck of matter. 

Aziraphale’s heart clenched as he saw the other angel squeak in boundless excitement. 

Muriel watched, and recorded everything.

[cat-26]

Okay so I basically wrote down all my impressions as I was watching Techno’s stream for MCC 9 (this is basically me commenting to the void)

My main takeaways were:

- Techno is so relaxed and calm!? This is great. Also he is getting back in contact with his friends, yes please. No need for pressure Techno.

- F1nn is awesome! (Also, the cosplay??)

- Techno has played too many Skywars game; even without knowing what is happening, he dominated Skybattle

- Techno might join them for Among Us tomorrow?!

- Apparently next MCC is different? (And Techno doesn’t know if he wants to sign up?)

Now, for all the void-screaming:

~Start of the stream~

F1nn5ter cosplayed as Techno!! I heard he would but this is awesome! 

Also poor Techno he can’t breathe Game 1: sky battles "Weeellllcooome guyys to another episode of Skywars!!" - YESSS Techno was so lost but thousands of skywars videos made him invincible Techno to F1nn: "Dress for the job you want, and you dressed as Technoblade!" Game 2: TGTTOSAWAF I actually like that Techno seems not to have so much pressure this time. Like, of course he wants to win but he seems more relaxed. I like the dynamic in this team. Techno has mentioned Tubbo multiple times. I really want to see them interact. (I would love a Tommy/Techno/Tubbo team next mcc, but it probably can’t happen) Decision dome: They get 4 crossbows to kill chickens? I thought it was 1/team, 4 is kinda too much? Game 3: parkour Pete is not doing well? Techno is on 8-1 and Pete just completed stage 6... I wonder what happened.I’ll see why in his VOD I guess. "Believe in the me that believes in myself" - Techno He was so happy to be tied for 1st in parkour hahaha Making fun of people for practicing: "they could have watched anime like me like a real winner" Game 4: HITW “What's battle box?" "It's PvP" "Now I really want to play hole in the wall" Tubbo won!!! GO TUBBO!!! The leafblower guy really knows Techno's schedule! (Please tell us Leafblower man, we would like to know) (Let's hope he's a good omen) TUBBO GOT TOP 5!!! Break time/audience takeover Tubbo is trending hahaha of course he is, he’s in Dream’s team

The whole discussion on the duel hahaha “How could we determine who is a better player? What if...” I definitely like this team dynamic

About his chat calling him bad: "My viewers know that I have the potential to be the best ... This is not a coping mechanism." TECHNO WON AUDIENCE TAKEOVER!!! HOW? The duel really was for who stayed on youtube Game 5: Battle Box "We might not win but it's fun" YES TECHNO PLEASE KEEP THIS MINDSET, HAVE FUN, NO PRESSURE!! The made it so you can't see the power ups hahaha Once again, Techno broke the game They destroyed the Blue Bats (poor fruit) Techno: “Good job Finn”  F1nn: “Someone clip that so I can hear it at night”

Techno is DESTROYING F1nn killed Dream!!! You go, Finn!! "Killing Dream is a lucrative business model" - Techno Techno dragging Scoot for stealing his team/friends. Tommy killed Techno hahaha he’ll never hear the end of it They lost to Green and Red! Did Red only win against them? I am amazed at Techno relaxed attitude. I really hope this stays the same.

Techno is truly too good at 1.16 PvP now Game 6: Ace Race He did so well. He is being suppotive :')

All of them making fun of F1nn pfff hahaha Game 7: Survival Games Calvin "you have me!" when Techno is stressed about doing SG Blue bats are GOOD they’re winning this Awww he went to spectate Phil specifically (before realizing he killed him hahaha) I love how people thought the Blue Bats were underdogs HAHAHAHA BUT 7000 POINTS? Game 8: Sands of Time Techno: How much sand do we have? Finn: A lot? Techno: How much!? I NEED A NUMBER Finn: 7, I have 7 Techno: Oh, ok, that's good"

Techno and his chat have a chaotic relationship Did Dream get the coal dispenser trap? The one Pete’s team got (~2 MCCs ago?)  I'm so mad at MrBeast about how he treats Techno... (I don't hate him, just his treatment of Techno) Dodgebolt: Techno is being so petty hahaha but honestly good for him, he’s had way too much hate and salt  "Last time I dropped out of the top 5 because Dream died in Sand of Times - to be fair he did really good in the rest of the tournament" - even when he is making fun of him he stays nice Dream fans: don't be mean to Techno! Dream is the 1st Techno fan, so hating him is dumb.  Long monologue vs Dream, go Techno! You deserve the love "For at the people that always cite MCC individual rankings: now they have to cite speedrunning!" I'm so surprised than Cyan didn't do better BLUE BATS!!!! What a comeback!!!! Also HBomb won 3 times now, right? He deserves it! He takes this championship so seriously, and he believed in his team from day 1 End of the stream: Okay I am so happy for Techno! He is so happy and relaxed and he deserves not having all the pressure in the world. Like, I know he wanted a good individual placement and that's pressure but that is nothing compared to usual. He seems way better now Techno joined Reeeed  He is so confused by George-simping hahaha I feel so bad for himm he can't talk to his friendsss

He left. Honestly, I would have done the same I really feel the jumping from call to call by Techno, that's me at parties He really wants to keep streaming, it seems like?

I hope we get a Techno-HBomb team one day. It would be great

Philzaaaa So many screenshootss hahahaha

DreamSMP CAMEO???!!!! YES PLEASE it would really funny Bannerlord got murdered by the the training arc "my wife, abandonned"... poor Sora and Dora Haha the screenshot bm to Clavin Among us YEAH "I feel like I've changed over the years (...) I just want to be a good guy that find the TRUTH" Philzaaa joined!!! Dream is so mad (Techno is so nice because he is really trying to not be too mean) "That reddit is going to rot your brain" - Philza, that is why I don't go there I love this chat with Philza. Yes I really want Techno playing Among Us! (And he wants to start playing tf2 with them again! Yes Techno be healthy and happy!) They are talking tf2, I understand nothing. But they are happy so good! Oh they didn't know he was still live hahaha typical Oh Tommy is here now, it'll be fun. Tommy: “I breathe good air” Techno: “That is one of your most admirable qualities” I can't, everything he says is gold "This is a hostile takeover of the Sleepy Bois" - Techno to Scott Tommy is part of the sleepy bois!! Hahaha but RIP vlog gun They are negotiating Philza hahaha (maybe a Phil-Techno team next time?) Tubbo is in the same call as Techno... good enough I guess?  Among us tomorrow?? Yes please Okay Tommy is really the little brother to Wilbur Techno is so uncomfortable with the Shubbles conversation, he just wants to beat up people with his knockback stick but no one is there

~this is the end of me screaming into the void!~

[gripefroot]

Crazy

“And then she said to me, I think that cat is judging us for being stupid. Backed straight out of the alley then, and it hissed after us until we started running. Never did find out if the money was stored there. Guards cats are pretty effective, when it comes down to it.” 

The elevator dings. The joke between Bucky and Steve ends on twin chuckles, their attention shifted to the doors as they slide open. The elevator is not empty. Bucky is surprised. Steve, less so. 

“Morning, Nick,” Steve says easily, taking a step inside. Bucky follows behind, giving Nick Fury a nod and a once-over to the woman beside him. She doesn’t respond. Doesn’t even look his way.  

“Morning, boys. Nice to see you out early for recon prep.” 

“What recon?” Bucky makes the mistake of saying. He grunts as he feels Steve’s elbow in his side.  

“Where’s Romanoff?” Nick asks, as if Bucky hadn’t said anything.  

“She’s already underground, sir,” the unknown woman answers.  

“Good.” 

“I’m Steve,” Steve says, and offers his hand to the woman. She takes it, a polite but distant smile flitting on her lips. 

“Agent 28.” Her eyes flicker to Bucky, but he says nothing. With a raised brow her hand drops to her side where a holster is strapped around her thigh. 

He doesn’t trust himself to introduce himself when he’s thinking about that thigh holster. The brand. If it’s too tight. If it could hold anything larger than the Glock 19 she’s carrying. How sexy it is. What her name actually is, because he’s pretty sure that modern parents don’t name their kids numbers. Not entirely sure, though. 

“She’s my best agent,” Nick is saying, and Bucky reverts his gaze to the closed elevator doors with burning ears.  

“Nonsense, sir,” she replies. “You told Natasha that just last week, and I know for a fact you told Barton he was your best agent at last year’s holiday party. He brings it up every other time I see him.” 

Steve snorts. Bucky finds himself clenching his fist in the pocket of his jeans. Fury is apparently unconcerned by getting called out, and shrugs.  

“Either way, she’s been on this case since we got it three months ago. She’ll be running the recon today.” 

“Looking forward to it,” Steve says. Bucky senses the shifting weight of the woman, and he hears the lightness in her voice.  

“You might be changing your mind about that.” 

An omen.  

The tac room is underground Avengers Tower. Once the doors ding open to reveal a long hallway, Fury says something about speaking to Stark and punches the buttons as the other three climb off. Bucky slows his pace to follow the woman, who strides ahead. At the end of the hallway, Natasha is leaning against the wall, but she perks up when their footsteps draw closer.  

“About time,” Natasha says. “Hey, 28. I got the stuff you asked for. Told the boys yet?” And she falls into step beside the woman. Clearly they’re acquainted. Bucky wonders why Tasha has never mentioned Agent 28 before.   

“Nope,” Agent 28 replies. “Figured the sooner I tell them, the more complaints I’ll hear.” 

“This doesn’t sound good,” Steve interrupts.  

“It’s not.” 

Compared to the hall, the gear room is bright. Rows of vests, coats, weapon holsters, and various items for disguises are neatly lined on the wall. A few outfits are laid out on a table, and Bucky glances in trepidation at the chairs sitting empty in front of a mirror. He’s been in here before - he remembers the day Clint Barton was sat in one of those chairs and his hair shaved off because some evil scientist goo had gotten in it. That had been a bad day for Clint. Great day for Bucky, though.  

“Sit,” the woman says. Steve is quick to obey, with a trepidated glance at Bucky. He knows what it means: If we’re going to get messed up, at least we’ll be messed up together, right? Bucky struggles to have the same confidence. He sits beside Steve, glancing back towards the open door in case he needs to make a hasty exit.  

“Did you read the briefing I sent over?” Agent 28 asks, rummaging through a tub of...barber supplies. Bucky stiffens.  

“Oh, yeah,” Steve assures her. “Recon at a coffee shop for a suspect dealing in chemical warfare for Libya. We just need to find out who he’s meeting, and potential locations for any deals, right?” 

“Right.”  

She pulls out a buzz cutter. Holding it in her hand like a weapon (which to Bucky, it looks very much like one at the moment), she turns to steady meet their eyes, the opposite hand on her hip.  

“Here’s the deal,” she says shortly. “I can tell you two are ready to bolt, so I'll speak plainly. If the Avengers show up to a coffee shop all sitting together, the suspect won’t show. If the Avengers all show up to a coffee shop and don’t sit together, the suspect won’t show. You get my meaning? Anyone with half a brain will know what you look like, and anyone guilty will bolt at the first sign of trouble.” 

“We’ve done recon before,” Steve says, unwisely. “We can - ” 

But Agent 28 interrupts him. “Believe it or not, a baseball cap and sunglasses are not the height of secrecy. I’m in charge of this mission, and I won’t let it go south because a coupla boys are afraid to cut their hair. Hair grows back. Got it?” 

“Got it,” Steve mumbles. Bucky is still staring at the woman. Trying not to look at her thigh holster.  

“Got it,” he says hoarsely after a moment.  

She starts on Steve. Clumps of golden hair fall to the ground, and Bucky swallows. Several minutes later, she turns off the buzz cutter, fluffing up the short ends of Steve’s hair as he stares in the mirror. 

“Not bad,” he admits. “You a hairdresser?” 

“Only by necessity.” A smile grows on her face, and Bucky blinks. It’s a very nice smile. Maybe a little wild, a little feral. But he’d be lying if he said it didn’t intrigue him more.  

Oh, no. She’s going to cut his hair.  

“Nat has some clothes for ya laid out,” Agent 28 tells Steve. “Go on over and get dressed.” 

“What about Nat? Is she cutting her hair too?” Bucky blurts, before he can stop himself. The woman steps over to his chair, buzzer still in hand. He gulps.  

“Natasha is going to wear a wig,” she informs him, meeting his eyes in the mirror. 

“Well, why can’t I wear a wig?” Bucky sounds like a petulant child, and he knows it. 

“Because your hair is long already,” Agent 28 explains patiently. “If we put a bald cap on you and some shorter wig, it’s going to look goofy. Believe me.” 

“And what about you?” 

“I don’t need a disguise,” she says at once. “SHIELD has an algorithm to delete all footage of me from public and private security cams. No one knows what I look like.” 

“Really,” Bucky says, only half-believing.  

“Not all of us feel the need to take credit for our dirty work, Sergeant,” Agent 28 gives him a smirk in the mirror, and Bucky nearly falls out of his chair. What is it about her -  

She flips on the buzz cutter. Bucky flinches, and holds up his hand in desperation. “Wait! Wait. There’s got to be another way.” 

She turns it off. “Afraid of a haircut?” she teases. 

“Well - maybe.” 

“How old are you again?”

“Ha, ha,” Bucky says sarcastically, though he’s struggling not to grin. “Come on. You do this a lot. There has to be other options. Please don’t cut my hair. Anything else. Just don’t cut it.” 

Agent 28 bites her bottom lip. Bucky tries not to stare, and fails. She has very pretty lips. Then at last she sets down the buzz cutter on the counter, and reaches over for a comb instead.  

“Fine,” she says, and starts to drag it through his hair. Immediately goosebumps break out across his scalp, and Bucky forces back a moan of pleasure. He must be looking a little strained, because she lifts a brow at him in the mirror. “But this is your choice. You can’t complain about it.” 

“Okay,” Bucky mumbles. He won’t be complaining yet - it feels too good to have her fingers in his hair. Way too good. It’s like a massage, really. In fact, he’s so lulled that he doesn’t realize what she’s doing until he watches through a daze as she pulls a hair tie off of her own wrist to secure his hair...in French braids.  

“Er,” he says, jolting from his stupor.  

“All done. Your clothes are back there,” Agent 28 says, jerking her thumb backwards. She’s smiling way too broadly - she’s enjoying this. She’s enjoying the consternation Bucky must be exuding. With a narrowed glare her way, he slowly stands from the chair to wander over to Nat and Steve. Still she smiles.  

“What’s this look called again?” Steve asks Natasha, twisting slightly to look at himself.  

“Ah, ‘never grew out of punk rock phase to spite Mom’,” Nat replies. Bucky grimaces - it’s not a good look, whatever it is. Poor Steve. But then his amusement is cut short as he sees the pile of stuff for him.  

“The point is to blend in,” Agent 28 says, coming from behind. “This coffee shop is popular amongst the odder end of folks. Get dressed, Sergeant. Nat, can I help you put on your wig?”

“Bossy,” Bucky mutters to himself as the girls go off. Steve glances over, a grin growing on his face as Bucky rifles through the pile of black leather and chains. Luckily Steve doesn’t say anything, and Bucky tugs off his nice, soft t-shirt to don some scratchy black top. And studded belt. His black jeans and boots are good enough, he decides. And the leather jacket isn’t so bad. The necklaces are bad, though.  

“No guns!”  

Bucky jumps, and freezes, Glock halfway into his pants pocket. He can feel Agent 28’s glare on his back, and slowly, retreats and lets his gun clatter onto the table. Steve is struggling not to laugh. Bucky glares.  

Ten minutes later, they’re nearly ready to go. Natasha is dressed in a miniskirt and tall boots, with black hair that falls to her hips. Since Bucky knows her, he finds it a kind of scary look. Agent 28 is wearing a flowy skirt and top, with a bandana in her hair.  

“Starving artist,” she explains, then jerks her head toward Nat. “Daddy issues.”

“We look ridiculous,” Steve says.  

“No more ridiculous than anyone else there. We’ll blend in.” Agent 28 casts a look around the group; Bucky tries not to flinch under her gaze, but probably doesn’t manage. Then her brows crease. “I forgot about your hand,” she says irritably. Walking over to the buckets of accessories, she digs through as she speaks. “It’s a bit suspicious to wear gloves in the middle of summer, so...I know Stark has something in here somewhere…” 

And a minute later she pulls out a floppy, flesh-colored thing. “Lube, Nat,” she orders. Bucky’s eyes widen, but Agent 28 is nothing but smug smiles as she returns, spreading out the limb...thing. Oh. It’s a hand.  

“Steve and I will head out now,” Natasha says, plopping a bottle of lube on the table. “Space out our entrances.”

“Got the address?” 

“Yep.”

“See you there.” 

Talking in low voices, Nat and Steve leave the room in their ridiculous clothes. Bucky stares wistfully after them for a moment, and then turns back to the other woman. And jolts, and the cold lube hits his hand.  

“You wanna rub it in, or shall I?” she asks, eyes flickering with mischief. 

“Um - I will.” Bucky swallows and tries to be nonchalant about it. Not an easy thing which his stomach tightening. When his metal hand is appropriately...moistened...Agent 28 holds up the limb hand and he slides his fingers easily inside. It squelches in a very awkward way. He flexes his fingers, staring. They look pretty fake. But less fake than metal, probably.  

“It won’t short circuit, will it?” she asks. 

“No. I can get my arm wet, you know,” Bucky tells her dryly, glancing up with a smile he can’t resist. “Showers and everything.” 

“Is that so?” Agent 28 teases back. “I would’ve thought you’d wear a shower cap up to your shoulder.” 

“Haven’t done that yet.” 

“Too bad. Sounds fun.” 

“Fun? How old are you again?” 

She purses her lips together in a show of annoyance at his joke. But Bucky guesses that she doesn’t mind - her eyes are alight, and a little blazing. They leave the room in silence. 

Coffee shop frequented by hipsters. Well, she hadn’t been wrong. Bucky sips his coffee from a seat at the front bar, glancing around the crowd, strewn in morning sunlight and chattering way too loudly for a Thursday at 10 a.m. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Natasha pretending to text by the bathroom doors, Steve at a window seat. Agent 28 is behind him somewhat, near the entrance.  

It’s been an hour. When is the guy supposed to show up again? Bucky very much wants to ask this agent, but they aren’t wearing coms. And he suspects that if he addresses her when they’re supposed to be reconning, she’d bite his head off.  

The thought is appealing, admittedly.  

Natasha’s eyes flick upwards. Steve quickly picks up his coffee for a drink. Agent 28 coughs slightly, and Bucky stiffens in his seat. 

Target in sight.  

The man heads to the front counter to order. Bucky’s closest now, and he listens as he orders coffee. Nothing suspicious so far. But the way-too-high-tech briefcase for the West Village is a bit of a giveaway.  

A scent of flowery warmth fills his nostrils, and he stiffens again. Agent 28 is sliding nonchalantly into the seat next to him, reaching over for a little packet of creamer.  

“He’s being followed,” she says, so quietly that anyone without super-hearing probably wouldn’t be able to hear. Bucky tilts his chin down to show that he understood. He clenches his empty cup in his hand, standing smoothly and striding towards the trash can near the door. Two bulky men are hovering, just inside as their eyes scan the crowd. The hair on the back of Bucky’s neck stands on end, and slowly he tosses his garbage away.  

He returns to his seat. Agent 28 has swiveled around, facing the crowd of the shop with a disinterested stare. But Bucky can see the pulse beating in her neck. She’s on edge. Which accounts for his surprise when she meets his eyes with an enormous smile, and a loud, “Darling.” 

So that’s what they must be doing now. Bucky smiles in return, a little stiffly, and obligingly takes her hand when she reaches for him. He senses Natasha near them, getting into line behind the target. And Agent 28 draws him near, so that he’s standing between her legs, towering over her in her seat.  

Bucky gulps. He’s not sure why his knees won’t stop shaking. Sternly he berates himself, You didn’t go through super-serum experimentation and decades of brainwashing to lose control of yourself over a woman. Pull yourself together, Barnes! 

It doesn’t help. 

She smiles, as if aware of his inner turmoil, and that she’s the cause of it. “We need to extract the target,” she says softly. And then louder, “Whaddya say to heading back home?” 

“Anything you say, love.” Bucky tangles his fingers with hers, keeping them steady. Her gaze is very hard on his face, and then her eyes flicker behind him. The shout from Steve and the icy determination filling Agent 28’s face come at the same time. Bucky tenses - there’s a gunshot, he hears Natasha grunt and a crash, and suddenly Agent 28 is hiking up her skirt, drawing her Glock (from that really commendable thigh holster around her now-bare leg), as she aims around Bucky and fires. The recoil shakes him a little, since she braced herself against his bicep.

There’s a sudden tent in his pants.  

Screams. Glass crashing. A ping of a bullet on his metal arm. He can feel the heat of it, and winces. Then, as suddenly as the chaos started, the shop is quiet.  

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts (no more than 6 or 7 seconds could have passed) Bucky swivels to see...Natasha, lying on the target on the ground. Both unharmed, and a little shaky. Steve, clutching his arm as blood seeps between his fingers, and the two bulky men lying still on the ground. One shot. One taken care of...Steve Rogers-style. Bucky grins to himself.  

“I thought you said no guns,” he says as an aside, as Agent 28 flicks the safety back on, and puts the gun back in its holster.  

“I said no guns for you,” she clarifies, with a little dimple forming around her smirk as she smooths down her skirt to cover herself more modestly.  

“But you can have one?” he asks. 

“I always have one.” 

“I like preparedness in a woman.”

She merely lifts a brow in return, but Bucky sees interest in her eyes as she slides off the stool. Heads are beginning to poke back up from beneath tables, and Steve offers a hand to Nat to help her stand. The target scrambles to his feet.  

“I’ll take him back to SHIELD,” Agent 28 says, picking up the man’s briefcase in one hand and grasping his arm in the other. “When we have the intel, I’ll contact you for the follow-up.” 

Stepping on broken glass, she begins to wind towards the door. But as Bucky stares after her, she glances back over her shoulder with a smile. Just for him. 

“Make sure things get cleaned up. And take off your disguises before you address any press.” And she’s gone out the door. Bucky is speechless, but only for a moment. Sighing, he turns to Steve beside him. 

“I don’t think she likes me much. Always telling me what to do,” he says regretfully. But it’s Natasha that answers. 

“Nonsense; that’s just how she shows that she cares. Steve, go get your arm looked at. You’re bleeding out.”

~

It’s impossible to ever stop being an agent. Even tucked up in bed that night, trying to read a fantasy novel, your ears attune themselves to the sound of New York City traffic outside your window. The honks. The screeches. People calling out to each other.  

You can almost pretend the noise is dragons fighting goblins. 

There’s a soft swoosh, right outside your window. A thud on the balcony. Unmoving - you don’t want to give yourself away - you feel your heart begin to race as your hand slides under your pillow for a gun. The window is slid open, slowly. 

And you’d thought that living on the second story was high enough that you didn’t have to lock your windows. You deserve a burglar or two for that idiocy. Grasping the handle of your gun, you jerk around and hoist yourself to your knees, keeping the gun steady in your hands as you aim it at -  

Bucky. Bucky Barnes, one leg inside your bedroom while the rest of him tries to squeeze through. Bucky Barnes, sheepish and a little confused, and more than a little irritated.  

“There’s something keeping the window from opening all the way,” he says. “Could you jiggle it a little?” 

“Not even a hello?” you ask, pulling your gun back. He’s safe. You think.  

“Hello. Please open your window.” 

Biting back a laugh, you jump off the bed to oblige. “I suppose if I don’t, you’ll be stuck there forever,” you tease him. With a grunt and a pull, the window slides open the rest of the way, and Bucky lets out a long breath of relief as he pushes himself through.  

“That would be a problem,” he says dryly, staring down at you as he straightens his jacket.  

“Would it really? I think it would be fun.” With a smirk you close the window again, and the traffic is muted. And suddenly your bedroom seems very, very quiet. “Why are you here, Sergeant?” you ask him, hands on hips. “And why no warning? I could’ve dressed up for ya.” 

Immediately his face flames red. “You - your pajamas are very nice,” he stutters out, and you laugh. 

“Why are you really here?”

“I just - I…” Bucky bites his bottom lip, as his color slowly returns to normal.  

“Missed me already?” you ask lightly. 

“I - I guess.” 

Now that is not the answer you’d expected. During the recon he’d been a little tense around you; you’d assumed he was still sore that you’d threatened to cut your hair. Barnes isn’t known to be particularly friendly to strangers. But now he’s at your apartment, having climbed through the window at night, just because he ‘missed you.’ 

How very interesting.  

“What’s your name?” he blurts. “I mean, your real name.” 

How very interesting. 

“Only Director Fury knows my name, hon,” you smile up at him with a shrug. “That’s something you’ve gotta earn...if you’re interested.” 

“I’m interested. I am interested.” Bucky’s not one to mince meanings. The light in his eyes has shifted; bright to dark, full of meaning. Insinuation.  

You take a step forward, tilting your chin upwards as he catches his breath. You place a hand on the front of his shirt - his heart is racing. You can see very well the stubble on his strong jaw, the dimple in his chin. The thick lashes which ring his eyes. “You wanna get to know me, Sergeant?” you ask softly.  

“Yeah,” he breathes out, low and slow. “Yeah, I do. You...you were so...amazing. Today. You were amazing. You are amazing. Cooler than Sam or Clint, for sure. Maybe even Tasha. Probably cooler than Steve.” 

He’s babbling. It’s adorable, but you interrupt with a laugh. “Well, maybe I wanna get to know you, too. If I’m being quite frank. Which isn’t my name, by the way.”  

Bucky laughs aloud - the sound fills your bedroom with warmth and liveliness. It makes your skin tingle from your scalp to your toes. “You look like a Frank,” he teases back, lifting a finger to tap the end of your nose.  

“How’d you find out where I live, anyway?” you ask. “It’s not public intel.” 

He shrugs. “I have my ways.” 

“Which are…?” 

He holds up his metal hand, gleaming in the light from your lamp. Holding your gaze, he flicks off the end of the pinky finger. “I can hack into any technology,” he says, and you give an involuntary “ooo!” at the fancy port.  

“I could use one of those in my finger,” you say fervently, remembering a handful of instances when you’ve fumbled precious flash drives and such. “What - do your other fingers have that, too?” 

Bucky is grinning now. He knows he got you. So he flips open the ring finger - a three-pronged port. The middle finger - a mini USB-drive. “Pretty much unlimited memory,” Bucky explains. “Stark has good tech like that. He put all the updates here, in fact. And this one - ” The index fingers just looks like a hole inside. You suspect it’s not. “Miniature stun gun,” he says proudly.  

“Very cool,” you say, impressed. “What about your thumb.” 

He chortles, and gives you a thumbs up. The tip opens, and a little flame peeks out, steady and orange. 

“Very handy, if you’re going to an Aerosmith concert thirty years ago,” you tease. 

“What’s an Aerosmith?” 

Your eyes widen. “You don’t - you don’t know?” 

“I don’t have a lot of memories from thirty years ago,” Bucky points out.  

“Then you gonna learn, pal. Come on.” Bravely you grasp his hand - disregarding that he might want to leave, that he’s not interested in music - it doesn’t matter. There’s a single lamp lighting your living room, and you turn on the stereo. Still holding his hand.  

The music starts. You turn to face him, pleased to see the interest in his expression as he nods his head. So you sing along, tossing your head back to mimic Steve Tyler’s voice.  

“Come here, baby You know you drive me up a wall the way you make good on all the nasty tricks you pull Seems like we're makin' up more than we're makin' love...” 

Without realizing it, you’ve pulled Bucky in to a dance. He doesn’t protest, snaking his hand around your waist and pulling you close, pajamas and all. He’s smiling down at you, with an expression you don’t fully understand. But it’s enticing enough to keep you interested. 

“I go crazy, crazy, baby, I go crazy You turn it on Then you're gone Yeah you drive me Crazy, crazy, crazy, for you baby What can I do, honey I feel like the color blue…”

“I like this song,” he says, during a guitar solo. He’s swaying just so, his flesh hand shifting to nudge your hips to the slow beat.  

“Do you?” you ask. “Or do you like me? Hmm?” 

Bucky smiles. “How about both?”

“Okay.” Your fingers inch over to his hair, where you stroke the end of his braid. He still has the braids in. And - “You still have my hair tie,” you tell him with a pretend scowl. “You little thief!” 

“And you’ve stolen my thoughts all day,” Bucky snarks back. “We’re even.”

That kind of lovin' Makes me wanna pull Down the shade, yeah That kind of lovin' Yeah now I'm never, never, never, never gonna be the same…

The steps have slowed. But Bucky’s hold on you tightens. His eyes - oh gosh, those eyes - riveted, you catch your breath as his face grows near. Tentatively his lips brush against yours, hot and promising. Your heart is threatening to leap from your chest, and you can’t help smiling as he pulls away with pink cheeks. 

”Wait until I tell my mom that a guy I learned about in high school history has the hots for me,” you tease. 

“Ha, ha.” But he rests his cheek against your hair, all the same. I'm losin' my mind, girl 'Cause I'm goin' crazy I need your love, honey I need your love…” 

The song ends. You don’t want to stop dancing.  

“So, what do you think?” Bucky asks quietly, to the silence. 

“About what?” you murmur back. His embrace is really too warm. 

“Me. Us. You know.” 

You lift your head, holding his gaze as his eyes glitter on your face. Drinking you in. Even if he’s not terribly eloquent, you understand him perfectly. He lowers his head to nudge his nose to yours. You scrunch your face - he’s so cute. How could you say no?  

“I could probably lose my job, if...if we were to start dating,” you confess. 

“Then wouldn’t I lose mine, too?” Bucky asks. 

“Nah. You’re too important.” 

“Not that important,” he mutters. “But maybe enough that I can make sure you don’t get fired.” 

So. Cute. “Maybe we don’t have to tell anyone, so no one gets fired,” you whisper back. His hand is trailing up on your back, and you nearly moan aloud. Bucky has very good hands. Just strong enough to entice, but not so much to hurt... 

“Okay.” It’s barely a breath, but it flares the embers in your belly to life as Bucky kisses you again, no longer gentle, but hungry and fierce. 

How long have you known him, now? Twelve hours? Thirteen? You are so lost.

Bucky is tugging you towards the couch, gasping for air between kisses as you tug at his shirt. But you push him down first, straddling his legs as he stares up at you. In wonder. Oh, you like this. You draw his shirt all the way over his head, and nearly salivate on him.  

Later. You can salivate later.  

Fervently you begin to kiss him again, cupping his face in your hands as you squirm; he’s yanking at your shorts, at your top. With no luck, of course. You’re nearly about to get off so he can get them off, when a ripping sound pops your head back up.  

Bucky is smiling up at you. Sheepishly. Definitely ruefully. 

“Punk,” you mutter, feeling his cold metal fingertips on the bare flesh of your hips.  

“Next time, don’t bother with the underwear,” he retorts. You giggle, and kiss him again. Next time. Oh, good, a next time… 

You’re too impatient to bother pushing off his jeans the rest of the way, and clearly he is, too. Tossing his belt carelessly over your shoulder, you let his pants stay at his knees. The sensation of his hot flesh against the sensitive skin of your thighs makes you moan aloud, and Bucky wastes no time pulling your top off. His mouth finds your breasts, and you moan again, louder this time.  

“You’re killin’ me,” he rasps, between kisses. 

“Not if you kill me first.”  

“Is this a competition, now?” Bucky’s eyes are glittering.  

“Are you gonna make it one?” you tease back.  

Tangling your fingers into the braids in his hair, you pull his head back to kiss him again. But Bucky pulls away, his fingers ghosting along your jaw to tilt it upwards so he can taste your throat. His lips are hot. Oh...there will definitely be marks there. But right now, you don’t care. Especially when his flesh fingers travel between your legs. Your eyes flutter shut with a moan.  

“I’m ready,” you tell him breathlessly.

“I can tell.” There’s laughter in his voice, and you peek open an eye to see him gazing fondly up at you. That smile. It makes your heart stutter, and carefully he guides your hips to align with his… 

Oh, it’s so good. So, so good.  

You find his mouth again, kissing him for all you’re worth as you grind against him, drawing low groans from his throat. His hands are everywhere; guiding your hips, tracing your waist, stroking your breasts. It’s like he knows exactly how to bring your entire body to life...oh, he is good.  

With another groan, he leans his head on the back of the couch, bracing himself as he thrusts back. A whimper falls from your lips.  

“Baby…” he starts in a husky voice, his breathing short. “I - I can’t call you agent now - ” 

You’re laughing as the pleasure bursts through every nerve of your body. A slower pace and a moment later, Bucky tugs your face close to kiss you deeply as his hips stutter against yours, and stop.  

“That was good,” he says a moment later. His nose is buried in your hair as he breathes deeply. You keep your eyes closed, content just to smell his musky, masculine scent all around you. You pull away to gaze down at him; his eyes are shining warmth and affection, and the tips of his fingers start to trace circles down your bare arms. 

“Really good,” you agree. 

“We should do that again, just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke.”  

Bucky Barnes is a flirt. A conniving little flirt. You love it.  

“Well, I don’t have any plans tonight,” you tease.

“I do,” Bucky says fervently. “I’m intend to get to know you better than anyone. Even Fury, if you know what I mean.” You laugh - because you do know what he means, however perverted it sounds.  

In the cold grey of dawn, you whisper your name in his ear. 

~ 

“And last order of business…” Tony Stark trails off. The effect of building up to something exciting pays off - Clint jolts awake, and Sam quickly puts away his doodles of Iron Man crash landing into a trampoline. “We will be welcoming Agent 28 as a contractual member of our team. She’s worked well with us, and proven her worth. Fury agreed that we can have her part time.” 

“But can she endure Clint walking around without his socks on?” Sam asks.  

“I once sat in a dumpster for two days just to catch a gangster,” you tell him, before anyone else can speak on your behalf. “I’ve smelled things nearly as bad. I have a strong stomach.” 

“Ha, ha,” says Clint, without humor.  

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Bucky studying your face intently from across the table. He’s not subtle - someone’s going to pick up on him. You straighten your shoulders, and meet his gaze in challenge. His lips twitch upwards. 

“Then that’s all for today. Class dismissed.” 

It had been a long briefing; a summary of the mission you’d completed, upcoming events (mostly galas and charity gigs), and a reminder that as there are no housekeeping services, everyone needs to wash their dishes before any science experiments begin to grow.  

The team begins to file out. Steve congratulates you as he passes you; you thank him with a smile, not blind to the way Bucky is bristling with jealousy. Because Steve spoke to you? Bucky’s going to have it rough, with you. 

You linger all the same, standing slowly until you’re the last one in the conference room. Well, one of the last.  

“Agent,” Bucky says in a clipped voice, standing with his arms crossed.  

“Sergeant,” you reply, with a toss of your hair as you mosey for the door. Natasha is still within earshot down the hall, but you can walk a little slower.

“I’m not done with you,” he growls. “We need to talk about…”

You glance back, lifting a brow. 

“...the way you clean your handguns. It’s not safe.” 

Laughter threatens. “Oh, please. I’ve been cleaning my own guns for years. And no one else has put up a stink about it.” 

Bucky is strolling around the table, his eyes glittering dangerously on yours. You stand tall, unwilling to back down. 

“Why the criticism, Sergeant?” you say in a much quieter voice, as he pauses at the door. Only two steps away. You smirk. “Want me to clean yours for you?” 

He blinks, momentarily distracted. Then a creeping grin grows on his face. “Yes,” Bucky says, and his voice breaks on the word.  

“Come on, then. We’d better find someplace more...private.” You crook a finger in his direction. He obviously nearly melts at this - a shudder goes through his shoulders, and his eyes darken as he stifles a groan. With your head high, you stroll into the hall. 

There’s a janitorial closet two doors down. Perfect. Without even a glance at any security cams (you or Bucky can erase the footage later), you walk straight in, closing the door after he enters behind you. In the dark, his ragged breathing is very audible.  

“Well now, Sergeant,” you say softly, tugging at the front of his jacket. “Let me show you how I do it.”

[ghikij]

Ch5 - Garazu no Hanazono

[Ch1 - Start:DASH!] [Ch2 - Afterschool Navigators] [Ch3 - Diamond Princess no Yuutsu] [Ch4 - Yume no Tobira] [Ch5 - Korekara no Someday] [Ch6 - Loneliest Baby] [Intrld1 - Hane was Shitte Shimatta no?] [Ch5 - Garazu no Hanazono]

Words: 4,337 Summary: The hustle and bustle of daily life can be very overwhelming. Having so many responsibilities, Ellis does his best to keep himself from getting run down. It is a difficult feat sometimes. But perhaps a moment with his inspiration, even though it’s not the best of times and certainly not the most exquisite of places, can invigorate him. And her.

Spring had always been one of Ellis’ preferred seasons. It was not too hot and definitely not too cold either, allowing him to think and focus in his rigorous responsibilities. Of course, spring just so happened to be the busiest season as well, what with the new freshmen coming in, clubs that need sorting, and the dread annual budget discussion that he had loathed since his first year in the student council. The job was tedious and there were lots of numbers and students to satisfy, but doing it right meant that the rest of the year would be easier. And if there was one thing that Ellis wanted out of his last year in high school was for it go as smoothly as possible.

 “Kaichou, good afternoon!” A student greeted him as he passed by and he responded with a nod and a short greeting of his own. “Working hard again?”

 Ellis averted his blue eyes from the bound papers in his hand and said, “A bit. Don’t loiter around the school grounds too late.”

 The boy saluted before passing him, “Yes, sir.”

 “Ara, the beloved Yeti of Otonokizaka is out and about! Why, this must be an omen yan!”

 The school council president frowned at his friend, who, like the witch that she was, just decided to show up. Nozomi was grinning ear to ear, her arms held behind her back like an innocent little girl. Ellis knew better, of course. Nozomi was rarely innocent. She always had a trick up her sleeve, like a wily tanuki.

 “Just where have you been?” He asked exasperatedly. He all but worked Kazuki, the secretary of the council, to the ground to draft an acceptable proposal budget. An extra brain would have invaluable when it came to all the digits, but then again, math was hardly Nozomi’s strong suit. Now that he thought about it, Ellis was convinced that his friend did not even have a strong suit. If anything, Nozomi was a jack of all trades yet a master of none.

 “Oh, around yan. The archery club called to my attention so I went ahead and took a peek at what’s going on.”

 “The archery club?” That piqued Ellis’ attention. Umi was a member of that club and he had seen her just that morning. If there was a matter of import about the club then surely she would have mentioned it. “What’s up?”

 He chose to ignore the mischievous curve that formed on the corner of Nozomi’s mouth. “Oh nothing yan. They were just asking for an increase in budget. Poor Umicchi though. She was put on the spot. The captain thinks that since we’re friends and, by extension, you are personally acquainted with her, that she can influence us a bit.”

 Ellis frowned and tucked the bound file under his arm. “The archery club has one of the highest budgets in the school around.”

 “Because they’re one of the largest clubs yan.”

 “Exactly. Giving them more will upset the smaller clubs that need funds to grow.” He was generalizing, of course. There were certain clubs that he would rather not see bud at all, like the comic club. It would have been great of the members were going to create their own strips as that would have been a productive use of time and maybe even a source of school pride if a volume gets recognized, but the club itself was preoccupied in collecting and reading comics instead. Ellis tended to judge easily, but in this case, he was convinced that that kind of time would be better used studying texts. And then there was the school idol research club. Ellis sighed. Nico was a good friend and his supposed club did not really need a lot of resources, but Ellis would be lying if he said that he want that club to gain members.

 “The members say that they need to replace some equipment as those are aging, and in order to do that, they require an increase. The captain said that it would be okay if it was just for this year to cover for the cost.”

 Ellis shook his head. “It won’t happen. We’ve already drafted a budget proposal that would please as many clubs as possible.” He attempted to adjust the numbers in his head as he remembered them, if only to open the possibility if the situation calls for it. While they could possibly pull a tiny percentage from the other clubs to give what the archery club wants, it could also open a can of worms.

 Nozomi crossed her arms over her chest. “Then, if you really think it is impossible yan, the captain asks that you visit them to see their need firsthand.”

 “You avoided making the decision on your own again,” he retorted with mock accusation. Nozomi would have easily explained that it would be difficult, if not impossible, to cater to their request.

 The vice president raised both her hands and shrugged. “I said I’ll put my word in. But I also told them I’m just the VP. You go there, growl at them a few times, and be done with it yan.”

 “As tiny as you are, I understand that you might see me as a bear, but I do not growl. I’ll go. I don’t want this to be a debate during the deliberation.”

 “Yes, that would be for the best. Oh and Elichi, Nicocchi will be passing club applications to you later.”

 “What for?”

 Nozomi’s green eyes twinkled, “to make our adoption official of course! We’re proud parents of three now, don’t you know.”

 Ellis blinked a few times, “I don’t think I understand…”

 “Nicocchi has three new club members. Remember those three first years that came to watch Tori-kun’s play? They’re all part of the school idol research club now.”

 “How?” Ellis could not help but ask. “What are they…? When? You know what, I won’t even ask what he did to convince those poor innocent first years, but if this application also involves an increase in the club’s budget then forget it.” Once again, he reminded him that Nico was one of his good friends even though for the love of everything that was good in the world, he could not come to terms about what was so interesting in watching school idols.

 “Grouchy…” Nozomi commented, “And you wonder why everyone thinks you’re a polar bear yan. Anyway, I won’t be the one to deliver that bit of news. Don’t shoot the messenger, as they say. In this case, however, I’d rather not be shot from both sides. You boys sort it out.”

 “Hey, where are you going?” Ellis turned as his friend walked right past him.

 “Going to dote on my kids, Elichi.” Nozomi smiled mysteriously. “I’ve heard that, more and more, our fellow students think that we are attached at the hip. We should prove them wrong, ne? Even for a little bit. I’ll see you later, Elichi~” And with that, the vice president all by floated down the corridor, no doubt towards the school idol research club room.

 Shaking his head, Ellis resumed on his way, though the destination had changed a bit. He descended the staircase, exited the main school build, and strolled through the pathways with a purpose until he was within sight of the kyuudo club’s archery range. Rhythmic thudding of arrows on targets and the distinct twang of strings could be heard despite being a dozen yards away. The club must be really focused on practice, especially now that their competition have started.

 Ellis entered the building and saw first years being taught the basics of caring for a bow by their seniors just off to the side. There were quite a few new recruits of both sexes, so the senpais certainly had their work cut out for them. Still, it was heartening to see the prestigious club get new blood. The kyuudo club had given Otonokizaka quite a bit of prestige throughout its history, and the principal was certainly fond of its roots in tradition. Maybe Nozomi was right that they should invest a bit more on this tried and true institution, even if the tradition was not as popular as it did back in their parents’ generation.

 “Oh, Ayase-san, it’s good that you’ve come. Toujou-san mentioned that she would talk to you about our request.” The captain of the team approached him with a broad grin. The captain was a stocky young man with close-cropped black hair and thick eyebrows. Despite his choice of club activities, the captain was also known as a marathon runner outside his responsibilities, giving him an athletic physique. Ellis liked him well enough, though they were barely acquaintances.

 “Hmm, about that…” Ellis slipped a hand in his pocket, an instinctive and decidedly defensive posture, but he found that it also put whoever he was talking to on edge as well. “Nozomi had indeed given me her word, but I’d rather have the council make the decision on that. I can’t give you any promises at this point in time. I hope you understand.”

 “Of course, of course!” The captain chuckled, shifting his weight from one foot to another. “Just knowing that you are giving it consideration is enough for now. I’m assuming that you are here because of the supplies we’ve requested?”

 Ellis nodded and he was then led towards the room in which the club kept their equipment. There were a number of broken bows piled to one corner of the room, looking more like firewood than anything else, while tattered targets were neatly organized on the other side. Most of the targets were all but torn apart after continued and punishing use. He remained poker faced, however, his eyes still and calculating. Ellis had long learned that it was wise to keep ones thoughts to himself until he was prepared to say the words.

 “Actual club members, especially those who are members of the competition teams own their own bows.” The captain explained. “But, of course, we depend on the budget to provide training bows and arrows for the newbies. Since the school became co-ed, there are more first years in the club than ever before so I’m sure you can see the need for new stuff around here.”

 “Yes, I do.” Ellis then glanced at the club members, subconsciously looking for long raven hair and amber eyes. “We’ll discuss that during deliberation, but as I have said earlier, I can’t make promises. More students mean more clubs, meaning there are a lot more to balance.” The captain laughed it off amiably, but he no longer held Ellis’ attention.

 He spotted Umi by the range, notching an arrow in her great bow. A brief glance his way confirmed that she was aware that he was there, perhaps because only he and the captain were truly talking during practice. But instead of halting, she raised her daikyu and drew the arrow with such elegance that Ellis had to stop and stare, holding his breath and waiting for her to release to projectile. When she loosed the arrow, his blue eyes followed it towards the target, where it narrowly missed the bull’s eye. Umi drew a deep breath, clearly disappointed that she did not hit her mark, but she notched another arrow, drew and fired.

 A part of him was disappointed that she would not even give him a moment to say hello, but Ellis was also glad that she did not. At least this way, he was able to watch her at her best and at her most breathtaking. The kyuudo uniform really suited her. It brought out her simple, elegant beauty. The third shot she had taken also missed the mark by a merely hair’s width, which attracted the attention of the club’s coach, who briefly and taciturnly gave pointers to her. Umi looked embarrassed, but she nodded and took another deep breath.

 “It’s not like her to miss.” The captain said thoughtfully behind him as Umi drew another arrow. The tension on the bow’s strings seemed to halt all the activity in the range, as the other archers were coincidentally in the middle of reloading their bows. Ellis heard it stretch and complain under the pressure. Umi’s posture was perfect, her eyes focused on the target. All she had to do was to release the arrow, let it fly and find its mark.

 But then, the string snapped.

 Ellis’s body moved before he could even process what had happened. The bowstring snapped so loudly that the other girls gasped, but it was Umi’s pained yelp that had him hurrying towards her. She had dropped the bow and arrow in front of where she fell from the whiplash, and by the time Ellis and her teammates were around her, she was holding her cheek.

 “Umi!”

 “Sonoda-senpai!”

 Ellis carefully removed Umi’s hand from her cheek, “Are you alright?” The girl’s eyes were rimmed with tears due to the sudden pain but she was valiantly keeping at bay. She hissed when air touched where the string had licked her skin red. “I am fine,” she said, but Ellis knew that she should not be. There was long red welt on her cheek and, on some parts, tiny globules of blood seeped from where the bowstring had actually broken her skin.

 He fished out a handkerchief from his pocket and carefully dabbed at the blood. “Easy…”

 The coach was by them shortly after. “That was careless,” she said as she inspected the wound. “Did you not check your bowstring before practice?”

 “I did, of course.” Umi answered.

 “Press it against your cheek,” Ellis instructed her. “Accidents happen, unfortunately. Sensei, I’ll take her to the nurse’s office if that’s okay.”

 The captain interjected, “I can take her. She’s my responsibility. You don’t need to bother yourself, kaichou.”

 “She’s my friend,” Ellis retorted more sharply that he intended. He reined himself in immediately and stood up before lowering a hand to help Umi up.

 “Let the volunteer take her.” The coach scoffed, clearly exasperated. “You have a club to run, captain. I’m sure Sonoda-san will be fine walking towards the nurse’s office with Ayase-san. It is not as if she has to be carried up there.” To Umi, the coach said, “However, are you sure that that is your only injury? You didn’t get hit anywhere else?”

 Mortified that she had caused a scene, Umi shook her head. “I am certain, sensei. I apologize for being careless.”

 “Then that’s that. Hurry and get that treated. I’ll nock your bow with a new string myself later.”

 Umi bowed respectfully. “Arigatou and I am sorry once again. I shall return as soon as possible.”

 Ellis and Umi left the club soon after and walked towards the main building with bit of haste. Ellis did his best not to ask how she was feeling every minute and hovered around her as close as respectfully possible. Umi would periodically dab the handkerchief on her cheek, her wound still stinging. She would also look everywhere else but him, making him worry just a tiny bit more.

 “Umi?”

 The girl’s shoulders tensed when he mentioned her name. “That was humiliating. I must apologize that you had to see that, Ellis-senpai. Even more so because I have now ruined your handkerchief.”

 Oh, was that why she was quiet? Ellis felt some of his worries wash away. “Don’t even mention it. Freak accidents happen. It’s just unfortunate that you had to be hurt.”

 “This is nothing.” Umi lowered her head as they stood in front of the nurse’s office. “Um… you do not need to stay if you have other things that you must do.”

 “Hey, this is nothing. Like I’ve so carelessly declared in your club, I consider you as a friend. I wouldn’t have minded carrying you all the way up here if I needed to. So unless you think otherwise, let me be a friend and stay with you until you’re done, okay?”

 Umi’s cheeks reddened a tad, “Alright. Thank you.”

 After pausing for a quick moment to indulge himself at how adorable she looked when she was embarrassed, Ellis also flushed, so cleared his throat and opened the door. He called out to the nurse and explained what had happened to Umi. The latter was then seated on one of the ward beds and the nurse examined her closely. “It’s not deep, thankfully.” The middle-aged woman said as she walked towards her medicine cupboards to retrieve a bottle of alcohol, a tube of ointment and a box of bandages. “A bit of antiseptic and a band-aid would do.”

 “Sensei!” A group of boys rushed inside the infirmary all at once. One of them was looking pale and clearly in pain.

 “Oh good heavens, what happened?”

 “Akira-kun sprained his ankle during practice.”

 “I see. Then help him on that bed over there and I’ll be right with him.” The nurse turned back towards Ellis and Umiand smiled apologetically. “Do you mind helping her with the ointment, kaichou? It seems like my attention is more needed elsewhere.” She handed the medicine to Ellis and pulled at the divider to give them and the group of boys a sense of privacy.

 “I… I can do it myself, Ellis-senpai.”Umi told him uncomfortably, nervously fiddling on the cloth of her hakama.

 “Oh? You can see yourself?”

 “W-well, I am certain that there is a mirror somewhere here.”

 “Umi, I can help you. It’ll be a lot easier that way.” He could not help but feel exasperated at how Umi was behaving. She had always been a girl with pride, one who would rather do things herself and be independent. However, the way she refused his assistance was beginning to bother him. Even now, despite him stating the obvious, she seemed reluctant to accept his aid.

 His gaze softening, Ellis lowered himself to her eye level and asked. “Am I really that unbearable?”

 Umi’s amber irises constricted a bit under the late afternoon sun, looking more and more like gold. “W-what? Of course not.”

 “Well, can you blame me for wondering?” He pulled a stool underneath him and sat, applying alcohol to a cotton ball that the nurse had provided earlier. “You’re being so skittish for reasons I’m having a hard time to understand. You’ve assisted me so much in the student council so this is the least I can do to pay you back. Ah, hold still, this might sting a little.” He gently dabbed the welt with the alcohol, pausing to let Umi adapt to the pain as he went on cleaning the wound.

 The girl winced and showed great relief once he was done. “I… I did not mean to be. I just did not want to bother you. A-and…” She lowered her head a bit to shield her eyes with her long bangs.

 “And?” He waited patiently, slowly turning the cap of the ointment.

 “I… um… m-my apologies it is nothing.” Umi lowered her gaze despondently, allowing Ellis to marvel at how long her lashes were. “I only wished that you did not have to see me get so careless.”

 “It was an accident, Umi. And you were doing well before it happened.” He said gently. Ellis supposed to that he was beginning to understand Umi a bit. She was like him in many respects; driven to perfection and mortified of failure. The quality endeared her more to him because he could relate.

 “It was not an accident. I was overconfident and assumed the bowstring would hold. I had forgotten to bring the spare and left it at home.” She bowed her head this time, ashamed. “I-I suppose I only got what I sowed.”

 “Umi…” He responded with a low tone and wished he could say more. He knew that this was not only because of her forgetfulness but rather the indignity of being witnessed by people who respected her and those she respected in turn, and that feeling was all too familiar with him. Awkwardly, he placed his hand on her head and gently stroked her hair. “We all make mistakes. It’s okay.”

 Red-faced, Umi peered up at him with those stunning amber eyes of hers and said, “I did not expect those words to come from you of all people.” Then as if catching herself, she flushed even brighter and shrank back down. “I-I am sorry for being assumptive. It is just that Ellis-senpai strikes me as a perfectionist.”

 At this Ellis chuckled, “I guess I sort of am. Striving for perfection is healthy, I think, but like I said, everyone makes mistakes sometimes. Now, sit straight. I need to put the ointment on.”

 “O-oh okay.”

 Dabbing a small amount of the clear ointment on his finger, Ellis leaned forward and gently applied the salve, careful not to aggravate the welt that might still be stinging for all he knew. It really looked like a small whiplash on Umi’s cheek, and he sincerely hoped that it would not scar and ruin her smooth features. His fingertips lingered as he realized that this was the first time he had ever touched Umi’s face. He glanced at her expression and found that she was putting extra effort to stay still. Her eyes were looking as far away as possible and her hands were neatly resting on her lap. But then she returned his stare, shocking him with her striking gaze. He took in her visage; her eyes wide open, her pink cheeks, and her mouth slightly agape.

 Ellis felt his throat dry out.

 “Umi-chaaaan! Are you in here?”

 “Sensei, is Sonoda-san still here? My friend and I were looking for her in the kyuudo club but the coach said that she was sent to the infirmary.”

 “Oh, SonodaUmi-san? She’s over there on the farthest bed. Ayase-san is with her.”

 Ellis sprang away from Umi when a pair of footsteps approached. A moment later, two boys swung the curtain to the side. He recognized them as KousakaHonou and Minami Tori, both of them were close friends with Umi and both looked very concerned.

 “Honou, Tori!” Umi seemed startled by their presence as well. “What are you two doing here?”

 “Are you okay, Umi-chan?” Honou had no reservations in invading Umi’s personal bubble. He was immediately at her face, looking at the offending red streak on her cheek. He had practically bulldozed Ellis off his stool.

 Thankfully, Tori was more civil. His expression was filled with worry but he eventually smiled after Umi struck their mutual friend on the head for being disrespectful and loud in the clinic. “I’m glad it wasn’t serious,” he said, “Sousuke-san made it sound like you were hurt badly so we rushed over here.”

 “Mou…” Umi sighed. “I am fine. It is only a scratch and as you can see it is already treated. There is no need for you two fuss over me. What are you doing at the club anyway?”

 At this, Tori tilted his head, looking bemused. “It is getting late, Umi-chan. Honou-kun and I thought that we could all walk home. I was hoping to buy something from the Homura today. Otou-san asked me to buy some confections for his guests tomorrow.”

 “I told him that I can just bring it to school but Tori-kun never trusts me.” Honou griped. “What a butt.”

 “I’ll end up reminding you several times and you’ll still forget.” Tori shook his head, “I might as well pick it up myself.”

 Umi massaged her temple at her friend’s antics and looked out the window. Ellis did the same and was surprised to find the afternoon sun so red. Was it truly that late already? “I… did not realize.” She then bolted from the bed. “I promised that I would return to the club!”

 “Yeah you did but Sousuke-san said you didn’t so they all assumed that it’s because sensei is keeping you here or had sent you home already.” Honou straightened up, standing nearly a head taller than his female friend. Tori was even lankier than him.

 “No… I was with Ellis-senpai the whole time.”

 The comment made both boys finally acknowledge his presence. Honou certainly looked amazed that he was there, as if he did not just crowd him off his seat a moment earlier, while Tori’s brows were risen. “Kaichou!” Honou exclaimed loudly, grinning like a big, happy-go-lucky oaf. “Hehe I didn’t notice you there. I was so worried about Umi-chan and all.”

 “Indeed,” Tori seconded, “Umi-chan is usually the careful one out of us so this was really a surprise.” He then bowed his head. “I thank you for assisting Umi-chan. It’s common knowledge that you’re very busy.”

 “It was nothing,” Ellis replied, feeling disappointed for some reason. He shook off the feeling and stood tall, taller than both the other boys. He attempted not to wear his typical kaichou face to address Umi’s friends but old habits die hard. “I was there anyway. Plus, Umi has been quite a helper for us in the student council. It’s the least I can do.” He unwrapped the band-aid and carefully placed it on Umi’s cheek, allowing a small smile to ghost his features before bidding his farewell. “I’ll just excuse myself now. I still have some paperwork to sort out.”

 “Ellis-senpai!” Umi called him as he was picking up his bound book from the nurse’s table. Turning back towards her, Ellis saw the sweetest smile on her face that he had ever seen before she bowed. “Thank you for today.”

 He nodded to her and both Honou and Tori before letting the nurse say that he was also leaving. Though outwardly stoic, his heart was beating rapidly in his chest, uncomfortably so. Was it anxiety? He did not know. There was nothing to be particularly anxious about. Befuddled, he paused in the hallway and let his pulse calm down. Yet, the image of Umi’s serene smile would start it all over again.