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sueboohscorner · 6 years ago

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Wynonna Earp S3 Ep7: I Fall To Pieces (aka...you will too)

Okay, so, some are saying they think this is just a “filler” episode. I don’t think that is entirely accurate. I mean, at some point, Wynonna and Nicole would have to learn to work together. Michelle was bound to take off at some point too. I mean it is rather surprising that the cops haven’t shown up in Purgatory looking for her yet. We wanted some more of Nicole’s past and we got a doozie and we cried. Wynonna finds out the truth about Doc and she reacted just like I would have and I cried with both of them. Damn it all! This show is stressing me the hell out this season!

I swear. I try, I really do, to try to type a small recap / review. However, Wynonna Earp is one of those shows that is so well written and has such good stuff going on, that I can’t. I just can’t. I don’t want any of my readers to miss anything and to read this and say, “Okay, now I HAVE to watch the actual episode!” So, here we go folks!

We open with, ugh….Wynonna and Charlie in a firetruck trying to get in another…..well…I can’t put that word here. You know what I mean. Wynonna swears that this is going to be their last time. Yeah, right. Charlie thinks it is good stress relief and they should continue. They almost get all their clothes off and get going when two familiar voices are heard. By the way, they are in a firetruck IN THE firehouse! It is Waverly and Nicole handing out fresh coffee to the fire crew and thanking them for their service and dedication. They don’t think so fondly of Sheriff Nedley, but Nicole assures them that it will be different when she is Sheriff.

Inside the truck, they are getting dressed and Charlie remarks that he actually didn’t know Waverly and Haught were a thing. He assures Wynonna when questioned, that Purgatory Pride is his favorite event every year. She is surprised to hear they have such an event and a firetruck gets painted the rainbow colors. Charlie also says that Nicole warned him about her….how she is a hot mess. Wynonna thanks him for the uh….”Pump?” she says and Charlie replies with “That’s gross.” Wynonna tries again….”Backdraft?” and Charlie questions her “Did we do that?” “Heeeeeaaat.” Wynonna says and they kiss and fall back and her hand hits the firetruck alarm.

A very embarrassed Wynonna climbs out of the truck and everyone is there staring. She says there is nothing to see here but a grown ass woman with grown up needs simply leaving a firehouse. Because, you know, that is a totally everyday occurrence. Nicole asks if she needs a ride. “I had a ride. I need a nap.” Wynonna answers. Then admits that yes, she needs a ride. Waverly asks if her and Doc are no longer a thing. Wynonna answers curtly, “We were never a thing and I haven’t seen him in a week.”

At Kate’s house Doc is lying on the floor with Kate in front of the fireplace. He lifts his hand and suddenly jumps up as the ring of Bulshar is burning him. He runs to a vase and ….oh, my…..I see ass cheeks. His chaps are open. LOL. He takes his hand out and looks at the ring and says, “What have I done?”

The bitch of a wife (sorry…I can’t stand her…) says that the ring is rejecting him as he is now a vampire that makes him compromised. However, not to worry, because they are together forever like he wanted. Ummm…..I think YOU wanted that Kate and took advantage of the situation. Doc moves to a mirror and looks at himself, runs a hand over his chest and says, “Just like I wanted” just as his image is disappearing.

Frat boys singing it up in a jail cell at the station. Sheriff Nedley tells Wynonna that they are from the city and their party bus was confiscated. Waverly finds Jeremy asleep at his desk and wakes him up. She asks what he is doing. He has been working on trying to figure out where Bulshar might have moved his operation since they closed down the other one. Waverly thinks that is great, but that Jeremy, not even knowing what day it is, really needs a falafel and some rest.

Nicole and Wynonna are in the Sheriff’s office and are moving a bookshelf while Nedley sits at his desk. Behind the shelf is a door. “We finally get to see your sex cave?” Wynonna jokes with him. He says it is more of a closet and hands them keys. He explains that it is evidence and notes on cases that were a little on the supernatural side. Wynonna asks why he didn’t give them to Dolls. Nedley says he wasn’t sure whether to trust Dolls at first, but now he knows. They look inside and there is quite a bit of stuff.

Apparently, he has been collecting this since he became Sheriff. “It’s like Hoarders meets Storage Wars.” Wynonna jokes. It is up to Nicole and Wynonna to work together to figure out what to keep and what to burn.

Nedley checks with Nicole on how it is going getting backing from City Council on her becoming Sheriff. She complains that Bunny Loblaw won’t return any of her calls and still reigns over City Council with an iron fist. Nedley tells her that Bunny can smell fear and she needs to learn to hide that and take control of the situation. Nicole runs off to make another phone call to Bunny to set up a meeting. “Bunny’s gonna eat her for lunch.” Wynonna remarks to Nedley.

Doc is at the Earp Homestead in the barn looking for a can or container to put the ring in. He finds one and remarks that it will have to do when he hears the cocking of a rifle behind him. It is Michelle. She tells him it isn’t a good idea to go sneaking around with an armed mental patient on the loose. “I thought we were friends.” Doc remarks to her. She laughs and says that he bailed on her Christmas feast. He apologizes and says that very important had come up. He turns around and Michelle “You’re gonna make it up to me. Don’t worry. I’ll drive if you’re too tired.” She needs to leave for a while, to get out of town and to get going or she is gonna roll him for the keys.

Nicole and Wynonna start to argue about cleaning out the closet. Wynonna is sitting reading old notes and finds a picture of a “baby” Nedley when he was just starting out and had a kids with him. With Nicole getting mad because of lack of help, Wynonna rushes in with attitude and starts throwing things out as “crap” or “not crap”. Nicole goes to stop her just as she has a black weird looking mirror. They struggle over it and Wynonna lets go, making Nicole lose control of it and it falls and breaks on the ground. “Smooth move Ginger Spice. You just earned yourself seven years bad luck.” Wynonna says.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the Triangle, a small shed explodes (by the way there are creepy looking scarecrows on that fence) and a very ugly looking dude I nicknamed Mr. Fugly emerges carrying very large hedge clippers. He’s a very happy, jolly sort. If you bought that last line you have never watched this show.

Wynonna goes to the bar and meets Nedley there. He is drinking Ginger Ale. She orders her usual, a whiskey and leave the bottle. She shows him the photo she found. “It’s like your upper lip is wearing a skinny tie” she jokes with him. He looks at it and smiles. He asks how the evidence closet is going and Wynonna accuses Nicole of smashing stuff and complains what it is like trying to work with someone with a “pickle up their ass” and that the woman is all work and no play. That someday she is going to snap and chop up someone with an axe. Nedley says to go easy on Nicole and slides the picture back to Wynonna. “You two have more in common than you think” he says as he points to the little girl in the picture.

Nicole is at home trying her best to get ready for the Bunny visit. She turns her back for a second and hears someone behind her. She is startled to see Bunny is there and has let herself in. She offers to take the woman’s coat, but is told, “What. So you can rifle through the pockets?” Then she freaks when she sees Calamity Jane the cat and tells Nicole that either the cat goes or she does because she is deathly allergic. So, poor Nicole picks up the cat and runs her upstairs. Bunny takes the opportunity to look around and sees a picture of Waverly and Nicole together. She makes a face, slowly puts it down and says, “Disgusting!” as she walks away.

Michelle and Doc are at the Earp gravesite. Michelle places flowers on the grave which has both Ward’s and Willa’s name on it. Doc says he is very sorry, but Michelle says that Willa was Ward’s pet and was a spoiled brat with a mean streak. “She would have made a terrible heir.” Doc reminds her that Willa was just a child. Michelle looks at the grave and touches Willa’s name and apologizes for not being there to protect her. She suddenly gets up and walks off. Doc yells after her, asking where the hell she is going now. “Come on. I’ll tell you which way to turn.” She yells back to him. Doc begins to complain, “It’s freezing out here.” And she tells him to “Stop being such a wiener. Besides, I know you have a bottle of Tequila stashed under your seat that will get us through.”

Back at Nicole’s, poor Nicole is trying to have a nice conversation with the wicked witch of the universe. Nicole tells her that she has great plans of how to run the office more efficiently and ways to make the town safer. “Well, that is all fine and good, Deputy Haught, but my main concern is this. Randy Nedley is full of SHIT! I am so sick and tired of being kept in the dark about all the strange occurrences in Purgatory.” She goes on to say that she refuses to be lied to about what is going on “in HER town under HER nose.” Nicole asks what she means. “Well, you tell me. That is why I am here. Unless, you don’t want to be Sheriff.” She adds not to give her “that hooey” about costume parties gone out of control or escaped zoo animals. Nicole tries to say that Purgatory is a “special” place with “special” challenges.

Then Wynonna comes bursting in and says she needs to talk to Nicole for a minute. Nicole says it isn’t the right time, but Bunny smiles and says that it is in fact the perfect time because she was thinking of backing Wynonna Earp as Sheriff. Nicole can’t believe what she is hearing both her and Wynonna laugh thinking Bunny is joking, but she isn’t. She says that Wynonna is “a straight shooter and one tough bitch”

and that the Earp family is one of the original families. She calls Nicole nothing but “a fly-by-night outsider and a “little too…..different.” Nicole has heard enough and grabs Wynonna and takes her to the kitchen.

In the kitchen, Wynonna is laughing “Wait until Bunny learns about Purgatory Pride!" Nicole asks what she is doing there. Wynonna says it is about her (Nicole) and Nedley. But before she goes on she reverts back to the Bunny situation. Laughing again, she says “Wait. Did Bun Buns really just say I could be….” Nicole interrupts her, “OH, no. You can NOT take that job.” “I don’t want that job.” Wynonna says. Nicole says that is good because Wynonna would have been terrible at it. She has no police training, is terrible with authority and isn’t even qualified to work at a Chipotle’s” Wynonna takes offense and says that maybe she WILL take that job and be “Sheriff Nedley 2.0” and would be Nicole’s boss.

They are still arguing when Bunny turns around and at the window is Mr. Fugly and she yells out and falls face first on the floor. Wynonna is coming out of the kitchen about to “go get stuff done” and sees Bunny on the floor. “Balls! Bunny’s dead.” She yells to Nicole. Nicole rushes out and sees Bunny there and the cat sitting on top of her. Nicole rushes over and says that Bunny is “deathly allergic” and to get her purse. “Right! Cash!” says Wynonna. Nicole yells “No, for medicine!” They dump the purse looking for an allergy medicine and find a lot more than just that. Wynonna finds Oxy and Nicole hits it out of her hand. They find one and give it to Bunny with some tea which makes Bunny cough and wake up.

They help Bunny up and out to the police cruiser. Nicole says it will be faster to use that with the sirens on. Bunny is complaining all the way. She tells them not to take her to Purgatory General as there are “too many immigrant doctors there”. Nicole just shoves her in the back of the car. She tells Wynonna to go back inside and grab Bunny’s purse. They argue over who is going to go back inside and Nicole finally says she will, but Wynonna has to be right, so she is going to. As they argue back to the front door, two of the frat boys sneak into the police car and take off. Bunny is screaming in the back seat about what is going on. Nicole runs out into the road and exclaims, “You’ve got to be freaking kidding me!” Wynonna chuckles and says, “Look who needs my help now.”

A little bit later, Nicole comes out of the house with Bunny’s stuff and finds Wynonna trying to hotwire the car. She tells her she actually has the keys and that she should actually drive because she is the cop and it would be seen as commandeering the vehicle for official police business. Wynonna says there are bigger fish to fry and shuts the door. Nicole decides she will call Waverly then.

At the station, Waverly is on the phone with Nicole. Jeremy and she are logging into the computer to track the GPS of the police car. Jeremy laughs and says that they are having some super bad luck today. “Speed it up Jagged Little Nerd.” You hear Wynonna say through the phone. Jeremy quickly locates the car, and it is parked. However, Waverly says that they need to hurry.

It seems the two stupid frat boys decided to go to a biker bar run over by revenants. They get to the police car and Bunny starts screaming at them. She tells Nicole “Get me out of here you white trash tart.” Yeah….sure helping your situation there honey. Let me get right on that. I would actually move a hell of a lot slower just to make it more amusing to myself. Nicole finds the extra key and goes to unlock the passenger side door and guess what…..it breaks. Bunny of course screams at Nicole calling her a freaking moron. Wynonna pulls her gun and aims it at Bunny who backs up, but Nicole stops her saying that the bullet could ricochet and hit Bunny. Wynonna raises her gun again thinking it is worth the risk. “OR US.” Nicole adds. Wynonna puts the gun away. Nicole wonders if they could call the fire department to come rip the door off. Wynonna thinks that is a bad idea because the fire crew would never let the Sheriff’s office live that down. Wynonna thinks their only option is to go inside and “find Twiddle Dee and Twiddle Douche” and get the original keys. They wander to the bar and peek inside.

There are quite a few demons in there. Nicole says they are outnumbered and wouldn’t want Bunny seeing them shooting anyway. Wynonna scoffs and takes off.

Along a roadside, Doc and Michelle are leaning against his car. She is working on that bottle of Tequila. She tells Doc how growing up, she couldn’t wait to join the rodeo circuit to get out of the hell hole of a town. However, she came back one August weekend, got drunk and pregnant and ended up marrying Ward Earp. “Well, he did give you three beautiful daughters” Doc remarks. Michelle says, no only two. “Waverly was Julian’s, remember?” Doc pauses then asks, “What’s it like being with an angel?” Michelle simply answers with a question. “What’s it like being with a demon?” She changes the subject in a way. She tells Doc how Julian made her feel like she didn’t have to break her spirit to be happy. That the night Waverly was born, Ward pushed Julian out of the Ghost River Triangle. Right where they were standing now. Doc asks how she knows this and she says that Bobo DelRay told her. “You talked to him?” Doc asks her. She says she did more than talk. She gave Bobo the dinner Doc refused and she gave Bobo his freedom. “Are you out of your godforsaken mind woman?!” Doc exclaims. Michelle stays calm as usual. “Yes, I think we have already established that.” Doc tells her that she has unleashed a monster. Michelle tells Doc that Bulshar is risen and it will take monsters to fight a monster. Doc reminds her that Bobo has tried to kill her own daughters multiple times and she doesn’t get to make these life or death decisions for them. “Who’s gonna stop me? You, Johnny Hank?” Michelle asks. “If necessary.” Doc says getting closer. Michelle smiles and says it looks like they are finally really talking, so ….”Here are my terms.”

At the Revenant Roadhouse bar, the two frat boys are tied up back to back sitting on the bar. The demons are trying to figure out the best way to kill them. Wynonna and Nicole manage to sneak in and almost get the keys from the one guys pocket when they are discovered. They want to kill both of them as well. However, Wynonna says to the one who seems like the leader that he seems like a sporting type. What would be the sport of “ripping Dumb and Doucher to shreds”. She says they should let the boys go and they can have a contest.

A drinking contest. If the girls win, they get to leave unharmed. If the demons win….well…..they can kill them. “You could have just offered them cash.” Nicole tells Wynonna who realizes she really didn’t think it through to the end.

Back at the station, Waverly is getting worried because neither her sister nor Nicole are answering their phone calls. Jeremy brings up a review of the events thus far. How what has happened seems spectacularly unlucky. That makes Waverly think and they rush to the office. They find the broken mirror on the floor and hope that if they put it back together it will fix the problem.

The drinking game is on at the Roadhouse. They have gone a few rounds already with shots. Wynonna takes a shot and chases with a beer. They call for another type of liquor which is gross tasting by the looks of it. They count to three and drink. The demon looks like he is about to puke. He brings up the shot he just had. Wynonna claims they have won fair and square and to uncuff them, but spills her beer bottle. The leader demon grabs it and sniffs it and says she was cheating as she was spitting her shots into the bottle every time. Nicole asks where she got that idea. “I learned it from Coyote Ugly” she says. “Oooooh! I love that movie!” says a very drunk Nicole. The demon says now he gets to break their necks and all the revenants shout. Wynonna and Nicole quickly get up, Wynonna pulls out Peacemaker and they make a run for it. They are trying to run in knee deep snow with chain handcuffs on, through the woods. Wynonna is telling Nicole to hurry up and Nicole is telling Wynonna she is too drunk to keep up.

Doc is at Kate’s house going through some of her things. He comes across some ID’s and Driver Licenses. “You’ve found my mementos.” Kate says coming into the room. Doc says they are more like souvenirs of people she has killed. Kate says that it a vulgar way of putting it. Doc says it is the truth. Kate asks if he is helping Wynonna and Doc says “In a matter of speaking.” Kate has to point out that she must be some woman if he is willing to give up one of his precious pistols as Doc wraps stuff up in a sheet. Kate thinks it is sweet that he still thinks Wynonna will still want him. “You know how your jealousy bores me” he says to her. “As you are” Kate adds. “Wynonna made me the way I am” he says and

Kate comes at him growling and bearing her teeth. Kate suddenly does her thing of turning all sweet and says, “My Henry. The greatest gunslinger that ever lived. A filthy, rotten scoundrel.” Doc slaps her hand away from his face. She adds that how sad it is all this stuff he is doing for her. For what? Doc says that she (Wynonna) thinks I can be better. “Than what?” asks Kate. It’s beneath you. Wynonna is breaking your spirit. I love you. At your worst, or even more.” Kate says as she leans in and kisses him. Doc pauses, then pulls away. “Then you should know that I am a man that does not do ultimatums or likes to choose.” Kate laughs. “You and I are linked together forever.” She challenges Doc to go see if Wynonna will welcome him back into her bed.

Back in the woods, Wynonna and Nicole run and then stop because they are arguing. Nicole thinks Wynonna needs to get her head out of her ass because she isn’t the only one who has suffered through something. Wynonna makes fun of Nicole and says in a whiny baby voice that oh, yeah, Nicole survived a massacre. She quickly makes a face saying she regrets saying it like that. Wynonna brings out her gun and Nicole yells how immature she is. The damn gun is jammed. She adds that yes, Nicole survived a massacre, but to get back to her when she is cursed. She tries to aim the gun at the chain, but it is still jammed and then an axe comes flying out of nowhere and hits a tree nearby.

They turn and find that the revenants have found them. The leader says how they are “such catty little bitches” and that they are so deep in animosity that they are basting in it which will make them tastier. Wynonna and Nicole face each other. “You be Scott.” Wynonna says. “You be Tessa.” Says Nicole and they start to fight. Peacemaker finally after a few dead clicks decides to start working and that axe comes in handy. The chain they still have on also is handy for breaking a neck. However, when they think they have them all, the leader comes from behind and grabs them and bends them over backwards under his arms. He asks if they have any last words. They say a few, but then the revenant is killed by something behind him.

It is Mr. Fugly. “You owe me a wife!” he tells them as he closes his clippers. They both decide that this is a worse situation and make a run for it.

Back at the station, Waverly is just about done taping the mirror back together. They are missing a piece she yells to Jeremy who comes flying into the room with it. They have it all back together and hope that they fixed the situation. Just then Nicole and Wynonna come running in yelling about a mountain man. “A gross, scabby mountain man!” yells Wynonna. Jeremy looks at Waverly and says it looks like that it didn’t fix it.

Mr. Fugly comes marching in. Waverly tells him to wait just a minute Gandolph but he throws her to the side. Jeremy grabs a broom and yells, “You SHALL NOT PASS!” and the guy just roars into Jeremy’s face and Jeremy tells him “Yeah, you just do you” and goes to help Waverly. He looks at Nicole and Wynonna and tells them again that they owe him a wife and to choose. Waverly hears wife and grabs Jeremy and they make their way to the office. Meanwhile, Wynonna and Nicole are trying to tell Mr. Fugly why the other would make the best wife.

In the office Waverly says that it must have been something else. They find large pieces of what seems to be an oversized garden gnome. Jeremy yells to the girls that he is a gnome, but Wynonna doesn’t see how that is helping their situation. Waverly and Jeremy take the gnome figure to the desk to use the tape to try to put it back together. Mr. Fugly gnome gets tired of the talking and yells at Wynonna and Nicole to stop talking and grabs them and lifts them up by the neck. They have to choose who is going to be his wife. Waverly says they have one more piece and it is……boobs.

It is a lady gnome! She tells Jeremy to put that piece on but Jeremy sees a lawsuit just waiting to happen. Waverly goes ahead and, wishing they had a gnome bra, tapes the last piece on and turns it towards the big guy. Lightning strikes and the figurine is in one piece. The big guy drops Nicole and Wynonna. “Monique! You are okay.” He picks her up, hugs her and walks out.

At the Earp Homestead, Doc has arrived with a car he says he found at the roadhouse with the keys still in it. Hmmmmm…looks a lot like Bunny Loblaw’s car! LOL!! Michelle looks in the sheet and sees the supplies Doc has brought her.

There is some cash and a ‘new’ ID. She remarks that she knew an outlaw would get what is needed when she needed to get out of Dodge fast. However, she refuses to take Doc’s pistol, as he might need it in the future. “Otherwise, nicely done Johnny Hank!” she tells him as she puts the stuff in the back seat. “Wish I could say the same.” Doc remarks. “Is this where you beg me to stay?” Michelle asks him. “I do NOT beg.” Doc tells her. Michelle goes off on that it seems to be her lot in life to have to leave to save those she loves. She says Doc knows what she is talking about, that he recognizes her and what she is doing. Doc answers that she is leaving and putting her family in mortal danger. Michelle says that if Julian is outside the Ghost River Triangle and if he is still there, she needs to find him. Doc says that from the moment she walked into that barn she knew he would make her leave and would help her do so. “Sometimes it takes a monster” she says to him touching his hat. He grabs her wrist. “Wynonna will be angry.” Doc says. “She won’t be angry with you. She always seems to forgive you.” Michelle replies. Doc says that she still might not escape Wynonna’s anger because she is abandoning her family for….love. “Oh. Like I am gonna let a vampire lecture me on love.” Michelle quips as she gets into the car and leaves. Okay…..how the hell did Michelle find out?

At the station, Wynonna is startled to find Bunny standing at the counter. She claims it was only a “fancy faint”. “Yeah, the cat made a bed in your ass crack.” Wynonna remarks. Bunny tells her that the doctors say she is as healthy as an ox. “And the cankles to go with it.” Another wonderful remark by Wynonna. Well, Bunny says that she is there to let Officer Haught know that despite that day’s events, she will NOT be getting her support for Sheriff. Wynonna drops what she was holding and goes over to Bunny. She says that despite her best interests, Nicole did what was right. She always does what is right and that is someone who should be Sheriff. She reminds Bunny who saved her life that day. “Perhaps. But she does not belong here in Purgatory. She is not our…..people.” Bunny says with her nose in the air. “Are you a xenophobe or a homophobe?” Wynonna asks her. “Why….pick….just….one?” the bitch replies. Bunny tries to leave, but Wynonna stops her and grabs her wrist. She tells Bunny that they should talk about what really happened today……what she saw. Bunny tells her that it was all a dream…..a very bad dream. Wynonna informs her that in fact it wasn’t a dream. That she really doesn’t want to know all those little secrets that Nedley has been trying to hide or cover over, because that monster she saw today was just the very tip of the iceberg. Wynonna threatens Bunny saying that if she doesn’t back Nicole for Sheriff, she will personally bring that monster and all his demon friends right to her house. Bunny thinks she is bluffing, but Wynonna assures her she is not. Bunny leaves, claiming she needs to go to church.

Wynonna turns and sees Nicole standing in the doorway. She has heard pretty much all of it and thanks Wynonna and offers her a beer. It seems she can now hear space and time with this hangover. Wynonna is shocked about having a beer at work. Nicole laughs and says that some rules are meant to be broken sometimes. Nicole calls a truce, but Wynonna calls it a win.

Wynonna tells Nicole that she used to think Nicole was an outsider too and that she would freak out and leave and Waverly would have a broken heart. Nicole assures her that she loves Waverly. Actually, she loves Wynonna too (not in the same way of course) and that she is often jealous of Wynonna for being….well….Wynonna. “You’re staked to this land, same as me.” Wynonna tells her and shows her the picture of young Nedley and Nicole.

Nicole goes and finds Nedley in his office. She hands him the picture. “You were so damned scared. But still so damned tough.” He tells her. He tells her that somehow she managed to get into a canoe to safety and he found her down river. “You’re the one.” Nicole says quietly. Nedley just says that he kept an eye on her afterwards and what kind of parents let a six year old go to a music festival in the woods. Nicole smiles and says her parents were nothing but selfish and that they don’t talk anymore. Nedley asks if it is because of who she is. “Yeah, a cop” Nicole says. Nedley tells her that when he heard she had joined the police academy, he couldn’t resist offering up the post. Nicole says when she saw the post, she knew she had to take it and that is where she was meant to be. “Everything good I have in my life now, is because I came back to the Ghost River Triangle.” Nicole says with tears in her eyes. Nedley pauses and looks at her. “You’re like a daughter….to me.” He replies.

Nicole starts to cry and gives him a big hug. He has tears in his eyes too. “Thank you. You are a tough act to follow.” Nicole tells him. Nedley just looks at her and says, “I’m not going anywhere. Not if you really need me. Congratulations Sheriff Haught. You’ve earned it.”

Wynonna returns home to find Waverly at the table crying and holding a letter. “She’s gone.” Waverly tells her sister. “She’s gone to try to find Julian.” Waverly gets up and Wynonna holds her little sister.

Waverly cries and says that they had just had a wonderful Christmas together and it was so nice. Wynonna tells her that they can spend their entire lives trying to figure out why that woman does what she does….and they have. Wynonna is facing the table and sees there is a letter from Momma just for her.

Wynonna has read the letter and is headed outside. She stops short on the porch, startled to see Doc standing in front yard.

“Good evening” Doc says with a tip of his hat. He comes up onto the porch. “I come bearing gifts” he says, handing Wynonna a handkerchief with something in it. Wynonna opens it and is surprised to see Bulshar’s ring. Doc tells her it should protect her in the upcoming battle. Wynonna asks him how he got it as Nicole was the last one to have it.

“Details are a little foggy. You know how I like to day drink” he tells her. “Why don’t you keep it?” Wynonna asks. “Anyone ever tell you not to look a gift horse in the mouth?” Doc replies not really giving a definite answer.

Wynonna changes the subject. “Did you spend the day with my mother?”

“Well, she essentially treated me like her Ober.” Doc says

“Uber.” Wynonna corrects him.

“What she told me may require some explanation.” Doc says to Wynonna coming forward.

“She thought so too” as she looks at the letter and Doc reaches for it, she pulls away. “Lemme just read it to you. ‘Dear Wynonna, Don’t trust Doc Holliday. He is not what he says he is.’” Wynonna looks at Doc after each sentence.

“Did she also say she set Bobo free from the well?” Doc asks, clearly trying to steer clear of where this conversation is going.

“She does love to burn a place down before she runs.” Wynonna says, not really acknowledging the Bobo being free thing.

“The recklessness of her actions- I do not see how she could remain here and keep you safe.” Doc says, once again trying to steer the conversation away from the inevitable.

“Just tell me what you did.” Wynonna demands straight faced, not losing eye contact with Doc.

Doc’s face at this point is pure fear. His eyes are wide as he looks at Wynonna.

“Who are you?” Wynonna asks him when he doesn’t answer about what he did.

“Who I’ve always been.” Doc says with a hint of pleading in his voice.

“Don’t talk to me in riddles!” Wynonna says raising her voice and getting frustrated.

“How should I talk to you then?” Doc asks her

“Like you give a shit about me!” she yells at him.

Then it really starts…..

“YOU refused ME!” Doc hisses at her. Wynonna slaps his face. Well, Wynonna THAT IS TRUE.

“Wynonna, I DO care….” Doc says, but gets another slap across his face from Wynonna before he could continue.

Doc gets closer to her. “You are runnin’ out of road woman!” You can see his eyes starting to water. More likely from the emotions running raw than the slaps.

“Tell me what you are.” Wynonna demands. Doc doesn’t answer.

Wynonna slaps him a third time and this time the vampire anger emerges. His eyes glowing and his teeth bared and a deep growl. He suddenly stops himself, covers his mouth as he calms down and backs up away from her.

“Kate. You let her do this?” Wynonna asks. Doc has visible tears in his eyes. “She had you.” Wynonna adds.

“It was the only way.” Doc says……a lame excuse.

“What about us? What about….ALICE?” Wynonna asks him now crying herself. “What would our daughter say if she knew her father sold his soul?!” Wynonna demands of him, digging the knife deeper.

“You, of all people, should understand the sacrifices that have been made.” Doc says. Again….not a great excuse dude.

“You wanted your immortality that badly, you…..selfish asshole?!!” Wynonna screams at him tears streaming down her face.

“You watch your mouth!” Doc yells, coming at her again without the vampire face. Again, he quickly recedes realizing he snapped again.

“BITE ME.” Wynonna says right in his face.

She starts to back towards the door. “There are some…..advantages…..to you being a vampire” she says to him. Doc, tears in his eyes, shakes his head. He knows what she is getting at. “John Henry Holliday, you’re not welcome in my home anymore.” Wynonna says…sealing his fate of being able to step foot inside the house ever again.

Doc, tears running down his face, tries to plead with her. “Don’t do this.”

Wynonna turns and opens the door. “No, YOU did this” she says as she steps inside and shuts the door.

Wynonna takes a few steps inside and stops. She is totally stunned by this, but most of all her heart is broken.

Okay….I am crying. My heart is broken. I love Doc and wish he and Wynonna would work this out. I keep praying that maybe the vampirism is reversible somehow, but unlikely. This final outcome is BOTH of their faults. Wynonna….I mean come on! You keep pushing away a man you love over and over again because you are afraid and don’t think you deserve him. His wife is back in the picture. Where the hell do you think he was going to go if he felt you didn’t want him? You were busy screwing Charlie to try to forget your feelings! However, Charlie is reversible. He can be pushed out of the picture. Whereas Doc……Doc, you were selfish as hell. You have always worried about losing your immortality. Even if your tuberculosis is returning, it can be cured in this day and age. You don’t run to your wife and the second thing your do (first thing was sleeping with her) is fall for her bullshit and let her turn you. Wynonna reacted just like I would have.

We don’t have too many episodes left, so this is going to stress me the hell out the rest of the season isn’t it?

Please….Please tell me what your thoughts are on this episode and the whole Doc / Wynonna dynamic!

#Wynonna Earp #WynonnaEarp #Melanie Scrofano #Dominique Provost-Chalkley #Tim Rozon #Purgatory #Waverly Earp #Doc Holliday

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the-half-ghost-kid-hero-rp · 7 years ago

Note

💕

Danny had been trying to be better lately. He really had. For some reason, his human side had been pulling at him more than ever over the last few weeks. So he had listened. He had barely even switched forms at all. And slowly, ever so slowly, his mind had cleared. It was like a fog was lifted, allowing him to see clearly for the first time in what felt like forever.

Exhaustion was the first thing that had come for him. And it had done so in spades. What little energy he had had in the beginning was spent shifting from his bed to the couch and promptly falling into a restful sleep. After a few days, however, the tiredness in his bones started to ebb, his energy returning little by little.

What little vigor he had gathered, he had spent on cleaning. He could only manage menial tasks at first - straightening his first aid box, collecting dirty bandage wrappers, and taking out the trash - but by the third day he had graduated to vacuuming the living room and cracking the blinds in his room. It was nice, to feel the sun warm his cool skin. If allowed, he would curl up in a sunbeam and never leave.

It had taken a day or so for his appetite to return in full, and he had been forced to confront his empty kitchen. Preparing a frozen meal wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle, but his stomach had quickly yearned for more sustaining sustenance after the first few repeat dinners. He had even been keeping up with his dirty dishes, never leaving so much as a spoon behind before turning in for the evening.

After about a week, he had been starting to get into a rhythm. Wake, occupy himself by cleaning, organizing, or reading, then eating a healthy meal before heading to bed with a feeling of accomplishment warming his core. It had been nice, and he had been trying. He had been trying so hard.

Of course, most things couldn’t last. Routines simply weren’t allowed to someone not belonging to this - or any other - dimension. Just when he was beginning to get his footing in this dance of normality, he was brutally reminded that the closest he could get was a pale mockery.

His punishment had started right after a satisfying meal of mac n cheese and hot dogs. His favorite since childhood. A staple in American homes among American children. Something normal, concrete, and unchanging. And in a matter of minutes he was hunched over the upstairs toilet, retching undigested bits of noodles and uncultured meat into the recently cleaned bowl.

He didn’t clean the kitchen that night.

The next morning he woke unusually late and everything hurt. Sore abs were run of the mill after blowing chunks; he knew that. It was standard and something he was intimately familiar with. This, though, was a full body, bone deep ache he wasn’t used to. It hung over him all day, a heavy blanket draped across his sagging shoulders.

The few chores he could accomplish before tiring out were done slowly and with half-effort.

Days passed and his condition had only gotten worse. It was as if all of the progress he had made was for nothing. The kitchen was ripe with spoiled mac n cheese, trash cans were overrun with crumpled tissues, and his blinds were drawn tight. Worst of all, his restored energy had been so depleted he would have guessed he was in the negative percentile. At least he would have if he had been in the right mind to speculate.

The pain, like his insatiable exhaustion, stayed coiled tightly around him, its burning tendrils wrapped around his body. Even in most his relaxed state, the soreness in his limbs kept him from getting restful sleep. His short supply of energy was spent tossing and turning, which only tired him more. Constant stomach cramps and dry heaving ravaged the muscles that weren’t already in agony.

He was miserable and completely bewildered as to why.

It had been four days of this torture. Four days spent wearing a path between his bed and the couch and the toilet. Four days since he had managed to keep anything down, liquid or otherwise. Four days without an hour of decent sleep. Four days without being able to touch his ghost side or powers. They were locked away, out of his reach somewhere deep and dark and untouchable.

As he sat on the couch blearily contemplating his dilemma and wondering if he was ever going to get peace, a knock rapped on the front door. It was dark outside, well into the hours of the evening, so he knew the guests were from out of town; no one in Amity Park would dare bother the abandoned Fenton Works building on the corner.

Then there it was again, a pounding on his front door, more persistent this time.

He should check that.

He blinked slowly and suddenly found he was on his back, snuggled under a blanket, staring up at the vaulted ceiling of his living room. There were noises around him - heartbeats and words and movement. Time had passed, he could tell. It was later in the evening and for the first time in forever, he actually felt slightly rested. He was almost a brand new person having gotten his first bit of actual sleep in days.

Someone was in the kitchen, complaining of the mess - rude - and someone else was coming down the stairs. Danny frowned, tilting his head to glance upside down at the walkway. Since when were the inside lights on?

An all too familiar woman was descending the steps, haloed in brilliant crimson. She looked like an angel.

“I said, did you find anything!?” she yelled to someone other than him.

A grumpy angel.

Danny grinned quietly as he watched her turn toward the kitchen, her arms tense. Then he remembered the second voice and his grinned slipped into a suspicious frown.

“NO!” his angel’s companion answered back in a distinctly female voice. That definitely wasn’t the hell hound Tazaki usually traveled with. “Nothing short of some really gross dirty dishes,” the intruder continued and the young woman stomped her way into the doorway. She looked and sounded ages younger than Taz, though Danny would wager she was still older than him. “Would help if you told me what I was supposed to be looking for.”

Snuggling deeper into his cocoon, he glared at her over the hem of his blanket. She was loud. And short. He didn’t like her.

“I told you. Peppermint, ginger, or lemon. Herbs,” Taz replied. Growling, she rubbed her eyes. “There has to be something.”

“Just some frozen bean burritos,” the younger woman replied, holding up a frostbitten dinner. Danny’s glare intensified. Those were his frozen bean burritos.

Suddenly Taz’s green eyes were narrowed on him.

“Do you have any herbs or anything?”

He blinked at her.

“Hello? Herbs? Spices? Did your mom keep anything in stock? Didn’t you say she was naturalistic sometimes?”

“No.”

“No?” Apparently that wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear, because she sighed deeply, fingers massaging her eyes. “Of course not. I really did not want to go shopping today.”

Suddenly, Danny realized why she looked so angelic: instead of her usual torn jeans and leather jacket, she was dolled up in a black dress, a knee length skirt hugging her hips. Black fur was curled around her shoulders, intricate lace across her collarbones keeping it in place. Her red locks were pulled back into a high ponytail, bangs framing her face and the sparkling diamond earrings that dangled from her ears.

He had to be hallucinating.

Taz grumbled, swinging her weight to one hip. One hand she planted firmly on that hip as the other shielded her painted face. “I. Had. Plans tonight,” she sighed.

“I’ll go upstairs,” Danny muttered automatically. Sitting up, he slipped off the couch and shuffled to the stairs. The couch blanket was coming with him. Just in case anyone wanted to know.

Distracted, Taz frowned down to the young woman still clutching the frozen burritos. “And would you put those away!” she shouted, startling the poor girl.

“Oh come on!” her companion argued loudly. “I’m hungry! And you know there’s not gonna be any real food at the party! There never are. So we might as well eat up while we can.”

The red huntress loomed over her darkly, eye twitching and forehead vein throbbing. “I said: put those away!”

Danny’s wet sniff caught Taz’s attention as the younger woman ran sobbing into the kitchen. “Danny?” she wondered softly.

“‘m fine,” he slurred. A shoulder found its way to the wall and he figured that would be a nice place to rest his weight for the moment. “Jus’ tired.”

Upstairs, Danny was flopped onto his bed, curled on his side under his couch blanket. The same tired feeling that had been dragging down his eyelids clawed at them even now, but rest alluded his weary soul. His brain was too busy muddling over just what had happened downstairs, his musings getting stuck on random images and sounds like a broken record player as he tried to make sense of the strange events.

He could still hear the commotion coming from the kitchen, even in his room. That was something this old house had never been great with. The walls kept out ghosts, ghouls, and creeps, but his parents’ conversation about the newest anti-ghost disintegration weapon floated from room to room as if the walls weren’t even there. The muffled noise was a lullaby sweet with nostalgia and he slowly felt the tension leave his muscles.

Just then, footsteps thumped softly down the hall, avoiding all the noisy spots with practiced ease. His door creaked open after a soft knock, white light from the hallway piercing the musty darkness of his room.

“You okay?”

What did she want him to say? That he had had a fever for what felt like a week now? That the last time he managed to keep down any sort of food or drink was four days ago? Or maybe that he couldn’t touch his ghost core and was scared to death he’d never be able to get it back?

He shrugged.

“Do you need anything?” she asked. Apparently the stylish heels had come off at some point, he realized as she padded flat footed across his room.

He didn’t know what to say, so he kept still and silent.

Taz noted this with a worried glare. He looked so small, lazily curled up in the middle of his bed. His frail figure was swallowed by the sweaty blankets surrounding him. The room smelled of illness and it made her queasy.

“When was the last time you cleaned up? Or cracked a window?”

A frustrated growl told her everything she needed to know.

“Four days ago.”

“And when was the last time you ate something?”

His stomach rumbled loudly. “Four days ago,” he choked.

“Showered?”

“Four days ago.”

“Fought–”

“Four. Days. Ago. Everything either did or didn’t happen four days ago, get it?” he interrupted, sitting up and glaring at her. Black hair stuck up in all directions, matted and unwashed. His sunken cheeks were flushed against his pale skin.

Taz gasped quietly.

“Your eyes.”

They were tired and weary and sad and shockingly blue.

He turned away.

“…I know.”

“How long?”

Honestly, she deserved that glare.

“Four days ago,” the redhead concluded with a nod. She perched on the edge of the bed. Danny drew up his legs, wrapping his arms around them to give her space. Their hands accidentally brushed.

The redhead blinked.

“Your…”

“What?” he demanded shortly. This game of point out the obvious was getting real old real quick.

“Your hand. You really are burning up.” Reaching forward suddenly, the redhead grabbed his hand and pulled it forward, clasping it between hers. “She said you were hot but not like this--”

Danny hissed and pulled away.

“And you’re freezing,” he replied. They paused, staring at each other.

He broke it with another grumpy huff.

“So what? I’m a little warm. It happens,” he frowned, shrugging the blanket up over his arms, hiding them from her intrusive touch.

Tazaki sighed, long and deep. The next time she spoke, her voice was soft and warm and he could have cried it reminded him so much of his mom.

“Your body is unnaturally cold, right?” she asked. “On average around 85-90 degrees?”

He knew she knew the answer to that, so he debated for a long moment if he should even comment.

“Yeah,” he admitted finally. Sitting up this long was making him a little queasy.

“Blaine took your temperature while you were unconscious downstairs. You’re currently 99.4 degrees. That’s high for normal people. She was surprised you were still alive.”

Danny stared blankly at her for awhile. Math was never his strong suit, but he didn’t remember it ever making him nauseous.

“Bucket,” he gagged suddenly, throwing off the blanket. His small trash can was in his hands before his feet even touched the floor and he nestled it between his knees.

“Danny,” Taz mourned quietly, rubbing his sweaty back with her black fingernails. Dry heaving sucked. She would know better than most people, but when combined with a high fever and an internal system running on less than empty, it was almost unbearable.

It broke her heart to think he’d been suffering like this in silence for four days. Lucky for him she had happened to be passing by on an escort mission. It was even more fortunate she happened to bring along with her a world renown doctor and surgeon (even if she wasn’t even twenty years old).

Once the wave of sickness had passed, she reached out for him. “Come here,” she said softly. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders and trunk, she drew him close to her chest.

“No,” he mumbled, having only the strength to turn his head away.

“Yes. You’re burning up and need to cool down.”

The boy lifted his arms, trying with sluggish desperation to push her limbsoff. “No, don’t. I lied. You’re not freezing. You’re warm. Hot–boiling! Stop!”

“Warm or not, I’m cooler than you right now,” she determined, pinning his arms to his sides and pulling him closer.

He half-sobbed in desperation, resorting to leaning his entire weight forward. Apparently he would have rather face planted into his vomit bucket than lean against her. It was becoming annoying.

“What’s wrong with you?” she demanded, releasing her hold on him once she was sure he wasn’t actually going to eat carpet.

Folded over onto his thighs, arms wrapped around his middle, his face was effectively hidden from her judging gaze.

It took several long beats before his quiet voice floated into the air, riding on the back of a deep red blush.

“You……… you look really pretty,” he mumbled quietly.

Admittedly, it took Taz as second to register what he was saying. Then it was her turn to almost fall off the bed.

“You’re an idiot!” she blushed, punching his shoulder.

Somewhere hidden in the mess of mangled black hair and shrugged shoulders, he smirked.

It warmed her heart.

She sighed, smiling. “Thank you,” she breathed and opened her arms invitingly. “Now would you please come here so I can make sure you don’t die?”

Head still hung low enough to conceal his blush, he sat up and leaned against her, cheek pressed against her sternum.

“There we go,” she sighed contentedly, slipping them further onto the bed. Slowly and gently, she laid down on the sweaty comforter, guiding the young boy to nestle against her.

With a soft moan, he relaxed, melting into the comforting embrace. His breath was hot, too hot, against the exposed skin of her chest but she didn’t consider moving him.

How could she when, in a matter of seconds, his breath evened out and the forgotten ghost boy was fast asleep for the first time in four days.

He had tried. He had tried so hard. But now he didn’t need to try anymore.

Asked by @tazaki-theredknight-blog for the send 💕 to hug my muse and not let go… meme.

Got a question for the muse or mod? Ask away!

#@ tazaki-theredknight-blog #danny phantom #@ answered prompts

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abundantchewtoys · 7 years ago

Text

Hiveswap ‘17-10-07: Adding some spice into the mix

To say it with the words of the immortal poet, Michael Guy Bowman:

"It's been a long, long time..." Since we played Hiveswap!

Well, okay, a week, but it feels longer. :P

We'd made it to the final room on the ground floor, and were just exploring all clickable areas.

---

The kitchen is bound to be where we'll encounter another monster, we know that from teasers. But I wonder how long it'll be? We'll probably leave, then Jude sends us something by pigeon, but it ends up in the kitchen by accident or by being chased.

---

Hmm, clicking the dog food container gives a prompt that declares the sitter went off for groceries "retrospectively the worst possible time", but Jude told us something about how her other workplace must've just closed. So, like... Did the sitter tell them she was going to go for groceries before coming over? Then there's the OTHER prompt that says she usually brings Joey to her dancing class on Saturday morning.

... I guess she could just tuck them in to sleep, then go out on Friday nights, but still.

I suppose it was just an oversight by What Pumpkin.

Alternatively, Joey could just mean that last time sitter went for groceries, the dog food wasn't out yet, but by now it is. :P

TREATS + DOG FOOD : Speak like Yoda, Joey very well can. SHOES + DOG FOOD : I like Joey's addiction to making puns. POINTES + DOG FOOD : We'll just imagine Joey gracefully doing everything. The dishes, math homework, avoiding death by Imperial Drone...

Then I saw a small clickable area and it's...

Sitter's SEASON-ALL MAGIC SPICE MIX. Pffff, just something for Roxy, to buy something solely because it has the word 'magic' in it. But apparently it actually works. Avoiding any alcoholic or suporific additions, maybe it just adds a taste to the food that Jude and Joey can't resist. ... Knowing Roxy, it would just be pumpkin spice. :P

OOooooh! I know it said GET the mix, but I didn't dear dream we could! But we can't make any combinations with it without picking it up, first!

... I bet we can make the TREATS suddenly more addictive to dogs 'n monsters by a factor 10, or something!

In retrospect, that's probably why the "YUM" sign is hanging there. :P

... Welp, that's another umpteen gazillion combinations to make! Hahahahahh ... ahah. hah. :,)

I like the design of the mix shaker, I didn't think it would be this recognizable to me but it is. Guess it's a quasi-universal shape?

Let's spice things up! ... After we finishing looking around in the kitchen. :P Okay, nothing clickable here besides the door and window and the things in the entree to the cellar, which we'll leave as is for now.

SPICE MIX + POGS : Blaperile has a good point, Jude might be eleven! That would make for another cherub reference AND it would mean Jude and Joey differ three years since Joey's 14. 11, 3 and 14, makes already for the digits in TWO of Homestuck's arc numbers!

SPICE MIX + TREATS : 'Nah [...] Why gild a lily?' I think Joey made this comment somewhere before already! ... Maybe with another food combination?

SPICE MIX + SHOES : ... Wow, that's one of the largest prompts up till now. Guess to be good at tap dancing you have to be a seasoned dancer, eh? *eyebrows*

SPICE MIX + FLASHLIGHT : ... D-CELERY SALT. Hahahahah, oh Joey, I see what you're doing there, 'keeping it light', even THAT is a pun!

And wow, I suddenly saw the clock in the shadows between the kitchen and the entree. Wow, that's well hidden! ... As is the ticking of the clock!

Welp, here we go again for the combination conga!

---

MIX + CONNECT FOUR : ... Tarragonally. Oh, I see how it is. This spice mix's magic is powered by puns.

MIX + MS. CLAIRE'S PICTURE ON JOEY'S DESK : 'Happier thymes'. <-- Case in point for what I just said.

MIX + PICTURE OF JOEY WITH TESS : And then suddenly Joey was an art critic. :P

MIX + HOT STEPPIN' : Yup, spicey enough as it is.

MIX + NEVER ENDING STORY : I'm relieved I don't remember any sneezing, snottering turtle of the sort Joey mentions.

MIX + SHIKA : I'd never heard of a poultice before. Oh, so those towels people get put on their foreheads in television shows actually contains medication? ... That's actually informative!

MIX + GINGER ROGERS : Pffffff, and the spice puns continue! Actually, if there ever was a time for one, it's in the combination here before us, it lends itself to it of course (as ginger is a spice).

MIX + MOTHER 2 : ... Good point, maybe instead of as a food savorener, we can use this to make monsters sneeze or something? Probably only the one time though, better make it count!

MIX + GAME CONTROLLERS : ... Wow. Joey starts by saying she never blows on her cartridges to get the dust out because it's apparently bad for them????? Hahahah, wow, Nintendo, your SNES days were wild! But then I think what happens is she basically admits she feels like she is OBLIGED to blow the dust out because it makes her feel like one of Captain Planet's helpers (specifically, the woman). N'aww.

MIX + WINDOWSILL : PFfffffff. Joey, I think it'll take more than a line of table salt to keep these monsters out. Now, of course, if you could sprinkle it in a circle and use it to open a portal to another plane, that would come in handy later on, actually. :P

MIX + WARDROBE : Well that's just meta. :P Though I'll admit I'm looking forward to Joey-the-fake-troll. "Jowwee"?

MIX + SHELF PALS : Oh yeah, look at that limited supply of salt, we'd best be very careful with it. :P

Well, that was everything here. To the attic stairway!

MIX + ATTIC DOOR : Oh, is that how knob doors work normally? You can't turn them unless they're unlocked? Huh.

MIX + GARBAGE : Hah! Well, I didn't understand this reference at first (European here), but now I do! Joey uses it as a makeshift Thanksgiving "dinner" to give thanks over... in that she's grateful all this junk isn't spread elsewhere through the house.

MIX + SUFFERER DOLL : "Nope, still unsavory." I salute thine pun-making.

MIX + LITE BRITE : ... Joey has a good point, as far as choking hazards go, age 4 is rather low.

I think at LEAST age 6 would be more appropriate in the present.

MIX + ABRAXAS STATUE IN STAIRWAY : ... Okay, the hypothetical situation Joey describes here not withstanding... 'crawdad', seriously??? That's a word for a river lobster, really? That means the name Crabdad is actually a pun!

MIX + FRIDGE : Well, mystery solved! The fridge contains a bag of baking soda and a molding orange. Welp.

MIX + DIRTY DISHES : ... I can't believe she did that.

Okay, we're back to where we last ended up at! Now, to proceed without triggering the plot just yet. Guess we'll avoid the radio a little longer.

---

BACK DOOR : Okay, as expected, we can LOOK but not OPEN. Although it does make Joey contemplate her unraked leaves. ... I'm not 100% sure she's wholly sincere about wanting to get back to raking. Though her comment about wanting to start a "zine" about her passion makes me wonder if that's a sneaky reference to contemporary youths making Vines, heheh.

Oooh, we hadn't clicked on the TRASH yet. Joey's got a point, it's a shame FOOD and WASTE CONTAINERS are often so close to one another. For easy use, I suppose. At least in restaurants, there should be a dumpster outside, separate from the food.

POGS + TRASH : Now that's just cruel, Joey. :P

MIX + BACK DOOR SILL : That's actually a pretty good idea Joey had, masking her scent. But I think the garbage could do a better job at that, if she pulled it closer to the exit. Then again, there are food rests in there too...

TREATS + BACK DOOR : N'awww, she'd rather Tess stay safe-ish in her dog house than try to make it across the crossing to the door. Maybe we'll not see her anymore in this Act at all.

GREEN KEY + BACK DOOR : Well, if all the houses in Hauntswitch are unlocked, at least Jude and Dammek would have less of a hard time gathering clues about... whatever is going on here.

Let's acknowledge the houseguest mummy next! The pedestal it's on reminds me of Grandpa's and Poppop's.

...

OOOOOOOHHHHH! The mummy is blocking MORE of the house??? Parts we won't be able to explore in Hiveswap, then? Like a garage, I guess? And Grandpa's bedroom, if it's here and not on the 1st floor? And the sitter's guest room?

I think Grandpa just didn't consider the implications of dropping the thing square in the door like that. He's... kind of out there, after all.

Trying to MOVE it : ... I don't care if it's a slur, this is now called Pharaoh Napoleon for all times.

POGS + PHARAOH NAPOLEON : ... That's actually a good point. The pants seem too tight for him. Probably due to all the bandaging.

Okay, guess we're all set to try the basement door!

My guess is we won't be able to descend without having a working flashlight. You know, because unlit staircases are a danger to be weary off. Especially if at the bottom there could be a flesh-eating monster snake!

Hahah! We don't even enter the basement at all, just open the door a little.

I suppose now the time has come to look at the radio. I do wonder, when we get the flashlight working... Does it become part of our wardrobe and disappear from the key items, or not? If not, that would mean we would have another umptillion combinations to do!

And I wonder if we could've used the flashlight on the unlit trophy room!

So...

Hah! So the static we've been hearing was not a regular thing to be heard from the radio. Something to do with whoever's behind this monster invasion I suppose.

I'm glad Joey turns the radio off, the static was kind of annoying.

OPERATING BUTTONS : The radio is off, and Joey intends for it to stay that way. :P

VOLUME KNOB? : Welp, Joey broke them. Oh well, I can't imagine they received that many interesting channels here in rural where-ever.

TUNER KNOB : Oh, heh, I presumed this knob and the other one were going to spawn the same response, but I guess not.

BATTERY COMPARTMENT LID : A power-cord-less device that still operates when you turn it on? The mystery deepens. :P (Yeah we're almost ready to get us some D-CELLs.)

We POP OPEN the LID and... Heh, I like that it's visibly open if we zoom out, too! It'll probably stay open after we're finished, that's why.

LOOKing at the batteries : Yep, self-operating devices that are neither plugged in or powered by batteries are a source of many a horror story.

BATTERIES GOT!

... Pffff, clicking on the compartment has Joey contemplating leaving the pogs for Jude here. That would have actually been a pretty good way to get even with him. But Joey thinks the idea is actually TOO good to execute and ruin through contact with reality. ... What a little dork. :P

Now, to attempt the RARE AND HIGHLY DANGEROUS x2 BATTERIES COMBO! This is probably one of the ONLY times we have (virtually) the same item in our inventory, twice!

... Heheheh. Nothing about making some kind of GROSS BASTARD BATTERY LOVECHILD or something, just a friendly safety reminder.

Now, to put them into the flashlight!

BOOYEAH!

I kind of expected a Legend of Zelda-esque moment of triumph! ... But if I remember correctly, she's going to have one with a stale cookie.

Also, no conversation with Jude is triggered!

Oh, okay, I actually thought the flashlight would either disappear from the inventory or get accessible for combinations. It's neither, Joey says she really wants to spare the batteries for the opportune moment. Makes sense!

---

Alright, this is a fine moment to call quits.

Next time, we'll descend into the lowest part of the building!

#hiveswap #reaction #upd8 #spoiler alert #joey claire #tesseract #hiveswap liveblog

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abovethesmokestacks · 8 years ago

Text

Sweet Dreams - Assorted Flavours (7/9)

Title: Sweet Dreams - Assorted Flavours Pairing: Bucky x Reader Rating: General Audiences (for now at least) Warnings: Fluff and feels. The usual suspects. Spoilers: None

Oh my darlings. You have no idea how long I’ve waited to finish this chapter. Or, well, some of you probably know, since I’ve bitched about it. A lot. In short: long-ass cold, not one but TWO drabble/mini series and a stubborn-as-all-fuck writer’s block. At least I can console myself with the fact that my cold served me well in writing this chapter once I had regained the higher brain functions necessary to actually do some writing. Recipe will be added as soon as I can compile it!

Tag list at the end of the chapter. If you want to be tagged in future chapters, send me an ask, and I’ll add you to the tag list.

VII. Tread Gingerly

Ginger: a herb in the Zingiberaceae-family, known for its aromatic, underground stem. The stem can be used fresh or dried and ground as a spice. Ginger goes well with apples, lemon, pumpkin, chocolate and dates.

You tried not to push as weeks passed after the incident in the shop. Bucky had said he would try, and you knew he did. He would tell you how he'd slept each time he came in, sometimes sounding so proud for managing two hours, sometimes sounding so utterly wrecked because all of his progress had shattered and he'd had a bad night. You tried not to keep track, but it was hard. With each night, you took his offered update, compared it to the one before, and your heart sank when realizing the good nights barely outweighed the bad ones. You tried to tell yourself it was okay, that he was doing okay, that good and bad nights in equal measure was still better than just bad nights.

It was something to hold on to, and you needed it.

There was no shortage of work, people suddenly crowding to the shop. Valentine's Day came and went, and much as you would have loved to spend it with Bucky, the year's most romantic day was condensed into sharing a pink cupcake and a quick kiss in the kitchen before you had to rush to get everything in order. He'd sat in the shop for a couple of hours, sneaking out while you were in the kitchen to fetch a new batch of pink lemonade cupcakes. Returning, you'd found his seat empty, napkin folded neatly on the small plate you'd served him a chocolate cupcake on. Scrawled onto the tissue was a simple ”Open me”. It had brought a smile to your face, remembering his first visit, and the message left on the napkin. You had taken the plate with you into the kitchen, picking up the napkin, expecting it to be another message. To your surprise, there had been weight to it, something flat and hard wrapped in it. Tearing away the improvised wrapping, you had gasped as a metal disc suspended from a thin ball chain fell into the palm of your hand

JAMES B. BARNES 32557038 T42 43 A P

One of his dog tags. Ignoring the steady trilling of the bell above the door, you'd pulled your phone from your pocket, calling him with a lump in your throat.

”Hello?”

”Thank you.”

”You found it.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

”It's... You didn't have to get me anything, Bucky.”

”I wanted to. You've been working so hard, and I wanted you to have something when we couldn't spend the day together.”

You smiled, turning the tag over in your free hand, the pad of your thumb running over the indentations of the stenciled letters.

”Well, James B. Barnes, 32557038, T 42, 43, A, P. Thank you.”

He gave a short, barking laugh. ”It's not the original. Couldn't keep anything that could be used to trigger me back. Though I wouldn't be surprised if it's gathering dust in some old Russian HYDRA compound somewhere. But it's the same information. Still accurate. Still...”

”Still what, Bucky?”

The line had crackled as he exhaled and drew a breath again. ”It's a thing soldiers did, still do, I think. Give one of their dog tags to their girl before shipping out. I- I remembered, there was this guy shipping out at the same time as me. We were supposed to embark, but his girl wouldn't let go of him, crying up a storm, and he tried to get her to calm down. Could tell the fella was close to tears himself. Eventually, he got his tags off, unhooked one and pressed it into her hand, promised her he'd come back, that she'd have a piece of him with her always.”

Closing your fist around the tag, you had pressed it against your chest. There hadn't been that many Valentine's Days spent with a significant other, and any gift you had received now paled in comparison. Bucky had given you part of himself, showing his affection in a way that had your heart beating wildly in your chest.

”Doll?”

”I love it,” you said, voice shaking with emotion. ”It's- thank you.”

From that day, the chain hung around your neck, the cool weight of the tag against your chest a sweet reminder of the man you loved. No matter if he was there or not, no matter how busy the shop was, you'd stop for just a few seconds to feel the metal on your skin. If Bucky was there for the night, he'd smile sweetly at you, at the hand touching the tags hidden under your shirt. It became as much a sign of affection as the kisses and hugs you shared, and for you, it became something of a good luck charm that held you over even during the most stressful nights.

Until one day, it didn't. March was slowly coming to an end, and though you had managed okay, it felt like the month had drawn on for way longer than it should have. You felt tired, the telltale signs of a cold weighing down on you. Being sick was not an option, not when you were the sole employee, and so you did everything you could think of to preemptively stop the cold from flaring up completely. If you had been the only one fighting a cold, it might have worked, but with literally everyone and their mother getting hit at more or less the same time, you were fighting a losing battle. Tea sales spiked as tired customers dragged themselves in through the door for something soothing to drink and something sweet to keep them awake long enough to last through the night.

”It's unfair,” you complained to Bucky one night, head feeling like someone had poured concrete into it.

”Unfair that I went through horrible human experiments, brainwashing and had my memory shot to hell for the slight perk of being able to resist the common cold?” he joked, looking a little too smug as he took another gulp of coffee.

”You know what I mean.” You refilled the tea kettle, setting it back onto the base and turned it on.

”I do, I'm just teasing you. If it's any consolation, I rarely got sick before the serum either. Made it all through the war without getting sick, and at one point I had to share a tent with Dugan, who had the flu for two weeks.”

You mock glared at him, pursing your lips and crossing your arms over your chest. Bucky merely bit his lower lip, apparently your attempt at looking stern had little to no effect on him. Kind of like the cold remedies you had gulped down by the gallon. Your hand drifted to the tag underneath your shirt, fiddling with it and silently asking it for strength for the remaining hours. End of shift could not come soon enough.

You made it through two more days before it got to you, although you steadfastly refused to admit defeat. Despite your limbs feeling like they were laced with lead, you got up, took a fever reducer and set about baking tonight's cupcakes. For days you had been subsisting on soups and gallons upon gallons of lemon-ginger-honey tea, something that you brought into your baking tonight, using ginger preserve to create a cupcake that tasted akin to what getting better felt like. It was slow work, your head drooping, your body forcing you to take short breaks to regain strength, running up the stairs to sneeze. By the time Bucky came around, half an hour before opening, you were still rushing to get the last batches of cupcakes mixed.

”Overslept?” he asked, taking in the disarray surrounding you.

”Sick,” you replied, exhaling heavily and crashing into him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

”Then why are you open? You should be upstairs in bed, doll.”

”Can't.” Your voice was muffled against his warm sweater. ”Have to stay open.”

”Sweetheart...” he began, but you shook your head, looking up at him.

”I need to stay open,” you reiterated, trying to sound firm. ”Either way, it's too late to do a 180 now. I've got the cupcakes almost all done. I can't let them go to waste.”

Sniffling, you turned and walked back to the bowl with half-done cupcake batter. Bucky really shouldn't have mentioned bed. It was all you could do not to abandon everything and go upstairs like he'd said you should. Sleep was... complicated when you were sick, always waking up every two or three hours feeling like you'd both gotten way too little and way too much sleep, never quite finding a happy middle. Sensing Bucky following your every move, you let out a little sigh, looking up again. Sure enough, he'd parked himself in his usual spot, arms crossed over his torso, peering at you with a perturbed expression on his face.

”You're hovering,” you told him flatly, swallowing to suppress a cough.

”I'm surveying,” Bucky rebutted, demonstratively placing one foot over the other to cross his legs.

”Well, then, can you go upstairs and survey me some tea? My throat's killing me.”

Bucky pursed his lips, eyes raking over you before answering. ”What kind?”

”I have a cup by the kettle. It's- there's a strainer in there with chopped ginger that should be good for another cup. Just heat up water, add it with a bit of lemon juice and honey. They're both in the cabinet to the left of the stove.”

He gave a sigh, his own kind of non-verbal protest, but nevertheless disappeared up the stairs. Letting out a long breath, you squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, inhaling again as best you could. It was okay, you could still make it. No extra flourishes for the remaining cupcakes. No one would care, it was okay to keep it clean and simple. A shiver travelled up your spine, and you shuddered, shaking your hands before returning to the unfinished cupcakes.

Bucky returned not five minutes later with a scalding hot cup of tea, trying in vain to at least get you to sit down while you drank. You reiterated how there was no time, commenting that maybe you should dress up in white rabbit ears to make your point. Instead, you had him help where he could, carrying the trays of finished cupcakes out to the case. Part of you felt a little guilty for bossing him around, but he seemed happy to help when you refused everything else. It would be fine. You'd make it through the night. Just a few more-

”Doll?”

”Wha'?”

You looked up, head spinning with vertigo as the shop was brought into focus, Bucky's concerned face taking up most of your field of vision. Next to him, someone cleared their throat, and you whipped your head around, the movement feeling unbearably slow. It was Stan, again, his fingers tapping against the counter. Wait, when had Stan come in? You gave a weak smile, surreptitiously looking around. There were a handful of customers spread out at the tables, Bucky sitting in his usual spot by the counter. You became aware of something clenched in your fist, looking down to find a crumpled ten dollar bill, your other hand hovering over the cash register.

”I hope you're not trying to skin me,” Stan joked, eyes glittering behind the perpetual shades he wore no matter the season and time of day.

”N-no!” you stuttered, almost managing to hide it behind a laugh, forcing your fingers to tap quickly so the register opened and you could give the man his change.

”You should take a day off, darling, you don't look so hot,” he remarked, holding out his hand to take the coins.

You couldn't help but shoot a dirty look at Bucky for that one, who only shrugged in response.

”Oh, don't you know, Stan? I am in fact a robot. Place closes down, they come in and turn me off, stuff me in a cupboard out back.”

”Well, hell, maybe you should tell them to take you in for maintenance.”

”I am going to assume you said that out of concern,” you mock-grumbled, placing your right hand on your hip, the left grabbing hold of the edge of the counter when your world once again began to sway.

”As you should,” Stan smiled, and nodded his head, grabbing the cupcake he'd bought. ”Thanks for this.”

You managed a weak smile, waving the old man off as he headed for the exit. To your right, you could feel Bucky's eyes burning a hole in your side. Stifling a sigh, you let your gaze flicker back to him, and sure enough, he had that expression on him where he wanted to argue.

”I'm fine,” you told him in a low voice, pushing the cashbox closed.

”You're not,” he replied gently, reaching over to take hold of your hand. ”You spaced out, doll, you were gone for almost twenty seconds.”

”'S not that much...” You looked down, blinking a couple of times to reestablish focus.

”It is. Count it out, see how long you just stood there.”

You reluctantly obliged, counting quietly to yourself. It got unbearable by the time you hit ten, and you pulled a face, clenching your free hand into a fist. So maybe you were a little sick.

”I can't close down, I'm-”

”I know, you're the only one here,” Bucky finished for you. ”I swear, if you and Steve had met back in the day, you'd've given me a heart attack.”

His comment pulled a snorting laugh from you, causing another wince as vertigo struck again. You faltered, your grip on Bucky's hand tightening as you slumped forward. Breathe. You gotta breathe, you told yourself, your left hand letting go of the counter edge to pillow your head as you leaned down. Your forehead felt uncomfortably hot and clammy against your hand, but the position provided a small sense of relief. Just a moment, just a couple of seconds-

”Doll!”

Bucky's frantic hiss made you bolt upright, head swimming at the too-fast motion. You swayed, squeezing your eyes shut as a throb behind your eyes surged through you. Had Bucky not been holding your hand in his, you were sure you would have toppled over.

”I'm fine!” you blurted out automatically, only to whimper when the throbbing in your head protested the statement wildly.

Bucky simply looked at you, a plea in his gaze that just begged you to reconsider. You had your retort on the tip of your tongue, another pointed comment about your situation when your eyes fell to the clock on the wall. You were barely one and a half hour into your day. The realization sank like a stone in your stomach. There were still hours to go, and you already felt like you'd been through the grinder. The bell above the door chimed, and you let out a heavy sigh as you saw five women hustle inside, looking way too perky and alert to be real.

”Sweetheart, please, you're gonna run yourself into the ground,” Bucky said under his breath, having noted your defeated expression at the influx of customers. ”I know you don't want to, but-”

”I'll close.”

To say he looked a bit shocked was an understatement. Bucky squinted his eyes to look at you, perhaps checking to see if you were pranking him. You couldn't blame him, you'd probably also think someone was messing with you if you were in his position. Much as you had your principles and plenty of work to do, you also had your limit. Five new customers coming in to the tune of a ache that wouldn't give, that in fact seemed to be spreading instead. Maybe it was because you were finally admitting defeat, allowing yourself to feel as sick as you really were, and it spread like wildfire through you.

”You need help?” Bucky asked, nodding to the customers seated at the tables.

”Don't scare them away,” you mock-warned him, poking him in the arm. ”Just because I close early doesn't mean I don't want them to come back.”

”Oh, you wound me! I swear on my blessed Ma's grave..!”

”Are you gonna help or not, Barnes?”

Bucky merely gave you goofy grin and spun his chair around to jump off it and go inform the patrons that you were closing. You couldn't help your own little grin, however quick it was. The five ladies that had entered approached you, and you explained you would be closing early due to illness. You offered to sell them cupcakes if they were okay with takeaway. Thankfully, they were nice about it, picking out a decent sample box of cupcakes. Feeling bad, you threw in a discount before bidding them goodnight.

Hearing the bell chime again, this time knowing it was because people were leaving, was a bit of relief, until you looked back at the display, remembering the mess in the kitchen you hadn't had time to completely clean up before opening. There was so much to do still, and now that you were finally allowed at least one night's rest, you couldn't fall asleep right away. The cupcakes needed to be put away, the shop needed to be cleaned, the kitchen needed tidying, you had to count the cashbox and check the locks and the alarm, and-

”Hey, hey, what's the matter?” Bucky's voice, tinged with concern, drew your attention.

”There's... there's so much to do,” you answered, sounding way more defeated than you meant to. ”I-I can't, I don't want to...”

Ducking under the counter top, Bucky came up next to you, wrapping you in a tight hug. His embrace, while usually effective in easing your worries, didn't quite reach through to you. Sure, it helped a little, but the ache and the ever-present sensation of vertigo made it hard to focus and your thoughts were a jumble that kept going in circles, always returning to the disarray that couldn't be left to tomorrow.

”Shh, shh...” Bucky soothed you, letting a steady hand run calming circles over your back. ”What do you need me to do? What do you need help with?”

”Everything.”

”We'll be here all night, and that kinda defeats the purpose of you closing early, don't it?”

”I can't leave it, Bucky, the cupcakes-”

”So we put away the cupcakes,” he interrupted you, pulling you away slightly so he could look at you. ”We do the absolutely necessary things, nothing more, nothing less. Think about it, what can't you leave until tomorrow?”

You wanted repeat your answer, but he had a point. If you took on everything, even with Bucky's help, you'd be here for at least an hour, and your body was steadily giving out on you. Taking a deep breath, you ran through your end of night ritual, willing your racing mind to slow down, to match the steady heartbeat thumping under Bucky's shirt.

”Cupcakes,” you began, trusting Bucky to remember things better than you would at this point. ”We need to put them in the fridge, and... and lock the doors and check the alarms. I... I don't remember if I left something out. If I did we need to throw it away.”

”Cupcakes, doors and trash,” he summarized, stroking you over the crown of your head. ”Sounds doable.”

You nodded meekly against his chest, unwilling to leave now that you were there. Still, you knew you had to get started, and you extricated yourself from his hug. Bucky insisted he put away the cupcakes, urging you to lock up since you knew the system better. Too tired to argue, you gave another nod, dragging your feet to the front door to lock and deadbolt it, then twist and pull the handle an inordinate amount of times to really make sure it was locked. A slow crawl later via the till to at least pull out the cash drawer, you were in the kitchen, barely noticing Bucky as he scooched past you. After hiding the money, the procedure was repeated on the backdoor. Lock, twist, pull, repeat.

”It's locked, darlin',” came Bucky's gentle voice behind you.

You turned, finding him with one tray in each hand, a small smile in place.

”'M just being thorough,” you told him, feeling your cheeks burn slightly.

”I know,” he appeased, setting one of the trays down to open the fridge. ”Look, I'm just about done, only got three trays left. Why don't you set the alarm and go upstairs, I'll come up as soon as I'm done.”

”You'll need the code, do you remem-”

”954772.” Bucky shot you a grin. ”Memory might be a bit shoddy, but some things still stick. Go on, go upstairs and get to bed. I'll be up before you know it.”

If you'd had more energy, you would have teased him for that accidental innuendo, but as it was, you hummed and headed for the door that led upstairs. You punched in the sequence that would set the alarm and headed up the stairs while Bucky kept his eyes on you for as long as he could, knitting his brows together when the door finally swung close. He had to work fast. It was only a flight of stairs and small distance between your door and your bedroom, but god only knew what you could get up to in your state.

He hurried to fetch the rest of the cupcakes from the case and the windows, snapping a quick pic of the packed fridge that he sent to Stark with the caption ”I assume you can afford these?” He could accept bringing home a small box of leftovers, but this was more than he'd feel comfortable taking home without offering any compensation. Stark, not surprising, got back to him in seconds with a ”if this is a joke, I'm kicking you out”, followed almost directly by ”You don't toy with a man's emotions like this, so this better be real” and ”I'm writing a check now”. Bucky smirked, tucking the phone back in his jeans pocket. The kitchen, while still in a bit of disarray, could wait until tomorrow. There was nothing left out on the counters that needed to be thrown away immediately, although his fingers twitched with the need to help and tidy up. Bucky shook his head. He'd promised he'd be up as quickly as possible. Everything that had to be done was done. Giving the room one last once over, Bucky quickly punched the code to the alarm, opened the door an hurried up the stairs.

Making a beeline for your bedroom, his heart almost dropped when he saw your bed empty. Mind running a mile a minute, Bucky's eyes began scanning in the room, the tactical training that had been part learned, part forced upon him taking in the minute details of the room. Window closed, no sign of forced entry. Bed made, sheets still neat, no struggle. Point of extraction unlikely. His body started moving almost of its own accord to continue the meticulous search in the living room, hand already back in his pocket to call Steve and assemble his team mates to tear down the city if that's what it would take, when a soft whine diverted him.

It felt like his heart stopped completely when his eyes found you, curled up like a cat on the couch. The tension that had gathered in him bled away, jaw unclenching and lips pulling up into a soft smile. You looked so small to him, and Bucky couldn't help but see the similarities to Steve as his friend existed in his choppy memories; easily shrugged off as frail and weak but with tenacity to fight the entire god damn world. He hesitated before pulling the blanket from the backrest, scrunching up his face as he saw the hole still there. Why you still kept this couch was beyond him. Bucky shook out the blanket, draping it over you and pressing a kiss to your forehead, memories supplying context: his ma, kissing him and Becca just like this to test their temperature. You're warm, not quite burning, but it's getting there. He set off for the kitchen and seconds later, the kettle was bubbling. Quickly, Bucky found the ingredients needed to make you a fresh cup of tea, tiptoeing to the bathroom to rifle through the mirror cabinet. The telltale click of the thermostat shutting off sounded just as he pushed a fever reducer from the foil capsules.

”Sweetheart?”

Bucky gently stroked your cheek with his right hand, making sure to carefully set down the mug he held in his left on the coffee table. You gave another whine, curling together more and trapping his hand between your cheek and your shoulder.

”C'mon, sugar, wake up...” Another protest. ”Just for a little while. Got you some tea and something for your fever.”

”Bucky?”

Your eyes fluttered open, blinking until they finally settled on him, bringing out a dopey smile. A stronger man than him might have been able to keep a straight face, but Bucky conceded then and there; he was not a strong man, not when you looked at him like that.

”Got some tea and medicine for you,” he repeated. ”Think you can sit up for a little while?”

Nodding, you pushed your upper body down before trying to launch yourself up into sitting position. It took a couple of tries, a whole lot of suppressed grunts and Bucky gently helping you along and making sure the blanket stayed on you. When you were all seated, cup of tea in your hand and medicine swallowed, Bucky joined you, sitting down on your left. You hummed contentedly, letting your head droop and fall against his shoulder, your eyes once again falling shut.

”C'mon, drink a little more tea,” he coaxed you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

”Wanna sleep,” came the slurred answer, followed by a heavy sigh.

”I know, I know. Just a few more sips, okay? Then I'll tuck you back in.”

You held onto the mug with both hands, taking a few token sips before holding out the mug for him. Bucky shook his head and gave a small scoff. Yeah, Steve and you would have gotten along swimmingly, probably put him in an early grave. He took a sip of his own, humming as the combined taste of ginger, lemon and honey hit his tongue.

”Don't... Don' want you gettin' my icky germs.”

”Got immunity, remember? Your germs can't get to me,” Bucky told you, placing the mug on the table. ”Let's get you to bed, okay?”

You hummed, but made no move to get up from the couch. He tried cajoling you some more, but you were almost fast asleep again and pretty much dead to the world. Seeing no other way to get you from the couch to the bedroom, he gently shifted you so he could snake one arm under your knees and the behind your back to lift you up. You barely let out a huff as Bucky carried you the short distance, only turned a little in his grip when he sat down to pull the bedspread aside, and giving a shallow sigh when you were finally laid out like Sleeping Beauty. As he reached to pull the comforter over you, you shifted again, rolling onto your side, your hands coming up to clasp something at your neck. In the soft light from the lamp posts outside, the metal of the dog tag only glinted dully, but to Bucky it may as well have been the sun.

He'd spotted the chain around your neck every time he'd visited since Valentine's Day, barely able to conceal the joy that shot through him. You always kept the tags under your shirt, but he could understand why, and the thought that you carried him with you where you went warmed him more than he'd expected. Bucky reached out, letting his fingers drag over your closed fist, feeling the metal of the tag, still warm from your body heat, under his fingertips. His left hand dipped inside the collar of his own shirt, pulling out the matching necklace with the second tag.

The idea had come to him when Steve had dragged him along to once again go through boxes of stuff from their time. It was mostly photos and trinkets, but at the very bottom were Steve's own dog tags. He'd gotten them, but never really taken to wearing them while out in the field, and after the Valkyrie went down, all of his belongings had been packed and filed away in storage. Bucky found himself missing his own tags, this simple sign of identification. Name, service number, vaccinations, blood group, religion. A solid sign that he existed. His own tags were lost forever, but Steve had pointed out he could probably get replacement tags if he wanted. It had taken some wrangling to get them, and seeing them looking so... new felt strange. He still remembered his own tags, a little banged up, the metal having lost its intial shine. Giving one of the tags to you had been an easy choice, and Valentine's Day provided the perfect time to do so.

Bucky leaned down, planting a soft kiss to your forehead. Your temperature seemed to have gone down a little, and you hummed under your breath.

”Please, don't go,” you murmured, leaning in to the sweet kiss.

For once, Bucky's first reaction was not to deny you. A stronger man might have been able to, but as he'd established, James Buchanan Barnes was not a strong man. He didn't care if he wouldn’t sleep a wink, he wanted to be here, wanted to do this. It was domestic, intimate. Forehead kisses and tea and someone who wore proof him right by their heart. He smiled against your skin, pressing another kiss there.

”I'll be on the couch, darlin'.”

His statement calmed you, allowing you to slip back to dreamland while Bucky eased himself off the bed and tiptoed out of the room. Lying down on the couch felt easier than before. He didn't expect to sleep, instead lounging and listening to the sounds of your rhythmic breaths while letting the tag flick between his fingers.

Proof he existed, a promise he'd always come back.

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#Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes fic #marvel imagine #reader insert #cupcakery AU #fic: Sweet Dreams - Assorted Flavours #my fic

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