#i haven’t tested the boundaries of his overprotectiveness | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wkemeup · 4 years ago

Text

Honey and Chamomile

summary: Four cups of tea, four distinct moments in time, and each pulls you in closer beyond the walls surrounding Bucky’s heart pairing: bucky x reader word count: 5.8k warnings: lots of fluff, but also nightmares, and lots of tea because im a fanatic a/n: this was written for @coffee-with-bucky‘s 2k writing challenge and it’s a thousand years late, but I hope you enjoy it! My prompt was 🌟 tea 🌟

It starts late in the evening as the thunder rolls in, low breaks amongst the clouds in the distance, a flicker of lightening touching the night sky and illuminating the shadows cast by the city. Painted raindrops slide against on the windowsill, racing one another to the edge of the pane. It’s soothing as you close your eyes and lose yourself in the soft tap-tap-tap to the walls of the tower and the hums of thunder miles beyond the city. It’s better than the silence, anyway.

The whistle of a kettle sings by the stove and it pulls you gently from your stance at the window. Mug in hand, you grab a bag of peppermint tea from the small box to the right of the kettle; paintings of sunsets and starry nights along the wooden frame. You close the lid and tug the string of the bag so it lays over the lip of the mug. Hot water finds its home at the center and the air around you fills of candy canes and memories of nights wrapped in blankets by the fireplace.

You hear footsteps behind you as you set the kettle back on the stovetop, careful of the bright red rings of the burner, and slowly wrap your hands around the mug. There’s a shuffle at the edge of the kitchen as the warmth of the mug touches your palms, soothes right up into your arms, the liquid too hot to drink but the steam of it is comforting against your cheeks. Crisp and cool amongst burning heat.

“Didn’t think you were home,” you say quietly, back turned to the figure who takes in a sharp breath in response.

The team was out on a mission, one Cap insisted you stay clear of after your near fatal gunshot wound in Bratislava last month. You fought it tooth and nail, but what Cap says goes, and well, you didn’t.

“Steve says I need more time,” Bucky replies, voice barely a whisper and you can practically picture the way he digs his hands into the pockets of his plaid pajama pants, scrunching at the fabric from the inside as a way to ground himself.

“Steve’s a little overprotective, don’t you think?” you chuckle lightly, turning from the window where the raindrops cast down along the glass in full, sweeping lines to find Bucky standing just beyond the plane of the kitchen. Just close enough to make his presence known, far enough to escape. Always one foot in, one foot at the exit. Self-preservation is a hell of a drug to kick.

“He’s right, though. Hard to trust a teammate who doesn’t trust his own mind,” Bucky mumbles slowly, scratching at the nape of his neck.

The shine of silver catches your eye under the dim overhead lighting and he notices it almost instantly, the way your gaze draws to solid metal, how you study the lines and bolts in his joints, and he drops his arm. He holds it then behind his back, tries to play it off casually, but you see how he hides it from view, like he’s been caught with something he shouldn’t have. A weapon.

You sigh, setting the mug down on the counter, the whisper of peppermint on your lips. He sells himself short, gets locked up in the mindset of what Hydra conditioned him to be, struggles to come back to himself and trust that he can control his own mind again. You know how often he wonders when he’ll lose it again, when he’ll break to someone else’s will and be forced to commit terrible acts again. It’s never a matter of ‘if’, but ‘when.’

He wonders when he’ll hurt Steve, or Sam, or Nat, or you. He wonders when the final straw will break and the floor will be ripped out from under him, when he’ll take a life he can’t give back. He wonders when enough will be enough and you’ll decide he’s not worth the trouble.

“I trust you,” you say, and you do mean it, but Bucky only shrugs, eyes downcast.

He shuffles he feet again. It’s uncomfortable for him to hear, you realize. It's foreign in his body and he barely recognizes the kindness in it when he feels it, the certainty of it, because it has been so long since he knew anything but cruelty and manipulation.

So, you pull a second mug from the cabinet; the one behind the Captain America logo painted on the side and Tony’s Disney themed mug that reads ‘Greatest Place on Earth 2003’ down the handle. You grab onto the edge of the mug tucked far into the back; light blue in color, soft undertones along the bottom. It’s painted like the waves of the ocean. It reminds you of him.

Bucky doesn’t say anything as you grab a second teabag from your wooden box and drop it in the mug, or as you fill the cup with the steaming water. You set it at the edge of the counter, eyeing him carefully as he remains still in his stance. One foot in, one foot at the exit.

“There’s sugar and milk if you want some,” you offer but Bucky shakes his head.

“No, no, this is just fine,” he says, voice a little uneven, almost as if he’s surprised by the gesture.

He steps forward, out of the shadows of the hallway and lets the soft lights of the lamp at the couch’s end touch his skin. They illuminate over messy hair, a few strands out of place, creases in his cheeks from pillow cases, the way he sways side to side in his stance. Nervous energy for a man with precision behind a barrel unlike anyone you’d ever seen.

He takes the mug, testing the heat of the surface, before he pulls it between his hands. You busy yourself with your own tea, taking a sip as you watch him bring it the mug to his lips. He pauses, smelling the hot water and you’re almost certain you see his cheek twitch. Ever so slightly, gone in an instant, but a remnant of a smile remains.

“I’ll be at the gym by nine tomorrow morning if you want to join me,” you say as you head towards the hallway. “I’ve seen your left hook and I could use some help on my stance.”

Bucky swallows back scalding hot tea like it’s nothing, his shoulders pushing up by his ears, startled by your request and it makes you laugh a bit. He chokes out a short nod, flustered perhaps judging by the pink in his cheeks.

You smile back at him, pausing at the doorframe to look at him one last time as he leans against the kitchen sink.

The smell of peppermint lingers in your wake.

***

You sit on the couch in the living room with your feet kicked up on the ottoman, book resting in your lap and a warm cup of tea nestled in your right hand. Its leans onto your chest as the steam of a sweet, woody scent of green tea filters through the air.

Fresh off of a month-long surveillance mission in Chechnya, your body is sore from long nights in cramped cars and your mind a little disengaged from hours staring out at a single window through the short end of binoculars.

Natasha sits quietly at the kitchen table behind you, flipping through the files spread out amongst the surface in organized chaos. The soft hum of a playlist on the overhead speakers drown out the grunts of Steve and Sam sparring down the hall in the training room.

You smile as you hear the shuffle of footsteps at the edge of the room, feet dragging purposefully along the tile. You don’t have to look up to know who is it, but you do wonder when Bucky decided to start dragging his feet to alert you to his presence.

He used to be impossibly quiet in his steps, like he was hunting prey even with his defenses down as much as he would allow them. He's snuck up on you a few times before without meaning to, his voice in greeting startling you enough to drop a mug of scalding tea from your hands and onto your exposed thighs and the tile below. If you think hard enough about it, you’d realize it was that moment, as he scrambled to dry your skin of the hot water, frantic apologies under his breath, as he knelt into the broken shards of your mug, that his steps became louder when he approached.

He hasn’t been able to sneak up on you since.

“Hey,” he says quietly from the edge of the room.

You smile to yourself, eyes still on the lines of the novel though you haven’t looked up at him yet. “Hey.”

“Smells good.”

You nod, taking in a heavy whiff of the steeping tea. “Wanna try?”

Bucky sits down on the couch beside you, a full cushion as a barrier between, but you don’t mind. He’s slow to warm up, cautious with even the people he trusts most, and you have no interest in pushing him beyond his boundaries. He sits rigid on the couch, stiff, though you can tell he’s trying to relax. He's fighting with his muscles and arguing with his mind.

“Here,” you offer, extending the mug to him.

He stares at you, blue eyes flickering from the tea and back to your face suspiciously.

“I haven’t poisoned it, Bucky,” you tease, pulling it back to your lips and taking a sip in proof. You sigh as it passed down your chest, warming you from the inside. It doesn’t slip your notice that Bucky’s eyes linger on your lips long after you’ve extended the mug back to him.

“If it’s a germ thing, I can make you a fresh cup,” you offer, laughing a bit under your breath.

“No, uh, thank you,” Bucky musters out and slowly takes the mug from your hands.

You nod and quickly return to your book, though you keep an eye on him in the reflection of the television screen. He studies the mug for a moment, looking over the slightly uneven edges of the ceramic, the speckles of golden flakes mixed amongst the brush strokes.

“Did you make this?”

“Steeped it myself,” you chuckle. “Strenuous work.”

Bucky laughs at that, though it’s muffled a bit, restricted, but it’s still there, still light and airy and incredibly beautiful.

“The mug,” he clarifies as he holds it up. “Did you make the mug?”

“Hey, even an Avenger need a hobby, right?” you shrug, albeit a little embarrassed. The walls of the mug are uneven, the painting done under dim lighting after hours as the little ceramics shop would have been swarmed with fans if not for the kindness of the owner who let you stay late into the evening. “I know it’s not very good--”

“I like it.”

Bucky smiles softly as he nods at you, examining the mug further. He traces over the handle that’s slightly too small for his grip, the edges that sway up and down like waves, the dot of red paint at the bottom that accidentally made its way onto the surface.

He takes a sip and you watch as his whole body seems to sigh in response. Muscles easing, tension leaving him. It’s a respite.

When he hands the mug back to you, you expect him to leave. He doesn’t. Instead, he stays quietly with you, sitting contently as he picks up a newspaper from the end table and you resume your place in your book. Perfectly quiet. Comfortable.

***

“Will you just take the medicine... please?”

“I’m an Avenger, Bucky, I can fight off the common cold.”

“You can barely breathe on your own. I might call for an ambulance. It's starting to look dire. Life or death kind of situation.”

“Oh, shut up,” you laugh, swatting his hands away as you quickly move to cover your mouth as another coughing fit takes over. It burns deep into your lungs, aches hard in your chest, makes it quite hard to catch your breath again, but you feel a soft touch on your back; gentle, soothing circles of a flat hand pressed to your spine, and you manage to find air again.

You wipe your lips as he pulls back. “Thanks.”

“It’s nothing,” he says with a soft smile, waving you off.

“I could get you sick. You should’ve had me quarantined like everyone else.”

“Aren’t you dramatic today?” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I can't get sick with this serum running in my veins, you know that. Besides, no one’s quarantining you. They’re just--”

“--avoiding me like the plague?”

Bucky grimaces. “Yeah, maybe.”

You smile tiredly at him, heat a little fuzzy, vision a little tunneled, but you enjoy the way he smiles back at you. He has such a nice smile, pretty, to the point where it’s almost unfair. It curves up into his cheeks, creating lines around and under his eyes, bright and cheery and you almost forget he’s also a ghost story of an assassin with the sharpshooting range more precise than a drone.

Before you can realize what you’re doing, under the haze of a clouded mind, your hand reaches out and touches his cheek. He freezes under your touch, surprised more than anything else, and he watches with wide eyes as you dreamily trace the lines in his face, the curve of his jaw and the tip of his nose. Your head feels a little fuzzy and your eye lids flutter heavily, just as Bucky begins to smile again.

“Take the meds, doll,” Bucky asks again sweetly. He slowly pries your hand from his face and sets two red pills in your left hand, a glass of water in your right. He guides your hand with the medication up towards your mouth. “Please? I miss my training partner. Can’t spare with someone who’s half dead in the living room from a stuffy nose and I refuse to go back to Wilson.”

“Okay, okay,” you grumble playfully, quickly swallowing the medication and chasing it with the water.

The couch dips slightly as Bucky gets up, jogging over to the kitchen. The whistle of the kettle is muffled in your ears, like it’s distant and behind several walls and closed doors. You stretch your jaw, trying to pop away the barrier, but it’s of no use.

You watch silently as Bucky scrambles around the kitchen, a little flustered for his frame, and you can’t help the smile that pushes at your cheeks.

“Top right,” you tell him, pointing to the cabinet over his shoulder.

He sighs, shakes his head, and sure enough, the mugs are in the cabinet on his right. He pulls down two from the shelf. For you, the one with the tiny cartoon dinosaur on the front dressed in an Iron Man suit, and for himself, he grabs the one you made months prior, with the uneven edges and the red paint stain on the side.

Then, he starts in search of the wooden box and you give him a minute of pulling open every drawer he can find until you tell him, “behind the bread bin on the counter.”

"Oh, of course. Makes perfect sense,” Bucky teases and flips through the packets inside.

He purses his lips, narrowing his eyes, clearly in search of something specific. His whole face lights up as he grabs what he’s in search of and quickly rips open the packets and sets them inside the mugs. He pours the hot water and carefully blows on the surface of the mugs, the steam pushing out in front of him as he sighs.

“Careful, it’s hot,” he says as he makes his way back to you, setting the mug on the arm rest of the couch to give you enough leverage to grab the handle. You smile up at him appreciatively as he takes his seat next to you.

Bringing the mug to your lips, you take in a deep breath – or, as much as you able to give the swarm of congestion in your head.

Spiced and warm. Peppery sharp. Lemon and ginger.

“Bucky Barnes, did you use google for me?”

He chuckles nervously as his hand rakes through his hair, pushing it from his eyes only for it to fall back to place again. “It, uh, it said ginger tea is supposed to be good for you when you’re sick, so I thought, uh, it thought it would help.”

You struggle to contain your grin, hiding it behind the mug as you take a sip. You can already feel your sinuses beginning to clear.

“That’s very sweet of you. Thanks, Buck.”

He nods a little sheepishly, fluster burning warm in his cheeks, but he meets your eyes; the perfect wave of blues and greys, a gentle ocean amongst a sweeping current.

***

When you wake with a harsh gasp in your throat, a sharp yank of reality away from your dreams, the piercing sound of screams echoing down the hall, it’s not the first time.

You know the routine well by now, know that Steve will meet you in the hallway by Bucky's door where the screams only seem to get louder with every passing second and he’ll ask you gently to go back to your room, remind you that he’s got this and Bucky will be alright. He always is, Steve tells you, but it doesn’t lessen the heartbreak of hearing the cracks in Bucky’s voice, the sudden whimpers, the shattering silence that follows as he wakes.

The two of you will skirt around things in the morning as you always do. Bucky will stumble out of his room with dark circles under his eyes, a drag in his feet, shoulders slumped as he slides into a chair by the kitchen. He’ll sit silently as you pour him an herbal tea from your box, never something with caffeine because he’s got enough energy in his veins as they come out in tremors in his hand and bouncing in his knee. Sometimes you give him raspberry, sometimes apple caramel, sometimes peach, and he’ll nod without looking at you, pull the mug close to his face and hold the steam to his lips until it goes cold.

Those mornings frighten you because it takes him back to Bucky you knew in the beginning, before he’d learned to smile and laugh again, before he became a permanent fixture in your life, one you were unwilling to live without.

So as your feet carry you down the hall, skirting around the corner and chasing after the screams, you realize Steve won’t be there waiting. He’s out on a mission with Sam in Ukraine for the next few days. There’s no one else on this floor. It’s just you.

You, Bucky, and the monsters in his dreams.

You freeze at the edge of his door, hand gripped tight to the handle, but you can’t move.

You’re made of marble and stone because even though you and Bucky had come miles since he first came to the tower, you’ve never seen him like this; scared, begging to invisible forces, voice breaking, crying. You haven’t seen him at his lowest and you don’t know if he’ll resent you opening this door, if he’ll be angry with you for breaking that wall of trust, for intruding on something so vulnerable he doesn’t share with anyone but Steve.

But when a scream leaves his lips again, one so broken and distorted it jars itself straight through to your heart like the serrated edge of a blade, you shove your way inside, pushing consequences to the morning.

Bucky lays amongst a mess of sheets, damp with sweat as his hands curl into the fabric, teeth gritted, chest heavy with labored breaths. His eyes are closed shut, painfully so, and you try to ignore the drip of sweat down his exposed chest, how it falls along the lines of his muscles, because he’s thrashing in his sleep like something is holding him down, chocking him, and there’s tears in your eyes as you rush forward.

“Bucky,” you call far too gently. “Bucky, wake up.”

You don’t know what to do. Steve is the one who usually wakes him and you don’t have the kind of strength he does. You don’t know what laying a hand to Bucky’s shoulder will do, if the touch will ground him or shock him to a dream like state, pull him from his nightmares or throw him back to the clutches of the soldier.

But you have to try.

You can’t listen to him beg through bated breaths, “stop, stop please-- don’t! Please, someone help--”

“I’ve got you,” you say a little louder. “You’re okay, Buck. You’re not alone. You’re safe, alright? But you’ve gotta wake up now. Please, Bucky. Wake up.”

You set a hand on his forearm and he jolts up in an instant. You stumble back a few paces in shock, heart beating like thunder in your chest as you hit the sharp edge of his dress to your spine. Hands clutched tight to your chest, afraid you might have to fight him to bring him back, but Bucky remains still. He’s panting, chest heaving as hair falls down into his eyes.

You decide to test the waters.

“Bucky?”

He flinches violently, a sharp intake of breath, though he doesn’t turn to look at you. His hands dig deeper into the sheets in search of a respite he will not find and it nearly breaks your heart in two.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, voice rough and used. He can’t bear to look at you. “I thought it was under control. I—I told Steve it was okay for him to go. You shouldn’t-- You shouldn’t have to--”

“Do you want some tea?”

The words tumble out faster than you can process them. It feels like the wrong thing to say, especially with that look on his face, the guilt and shame seeping through beautifully soft and kind features, but you know his heart is racing a hundred miles a minute. Judging by the tension in his back, he’s stiff as a board, too.

You step forward as he slowly turns to look at you. There's confusion mixed in with the undeserving shame, but it’s a start at least, you think. A couple cautious more steps closer to the bed and you’re standing right next to him, hovering above him as he bends his legs and wipes his brow of sweat with the edge of the sheet.

“It usually helps me calm down at night,” you offer slowly, as gently as you can manage. “I, uh, I get nightmares, too, sometimes. Not quite as loud as yours but...”

Bucky nods in understanding. He’s heard you pacing in your room in the dead of night when sleep evades him as it often does. He’s seen when you trudge out from your room in the early hours of the morning with the kind of look in your eye that reminds him too much of himself.

“It’ll only take a second,” you say, nodding to yourself as you try to calculate the time it would take to boil the water and ready the mugs. “I’ll be right back.”

You move to take a step back but there’s a tug on your wrist. You pause, glancing down to find Bucky’s hand circling at your arm, holding you steady, though his stare remains glued to the sheets.

“Don’t go.”

It comes out in a whimper, a low break in his voice, and your heart plummets down to your stomach.

“I’ll come right back. I promise,” you ease him, stepping closer again, though you notice he doesn’t release your hand. It’s not painful, but it’s firm. He’s holding on for dear life.

“Please,” he whispers and this time, as he looks up with you, you’re met with tears in the blue of his eyes. It cracks your resolve in an instant.

“Okay. Will you come with me?”

Bucky swallows thickly, holding your gaze for a moment before he eventually nods. The sheets are thrown from his legs and you realize he sleeps only in his boxers. The realization seems to hit him just as quick.

“S-sorry,” he mumbles, “just, um, just let me--”

You step back as he releases your hand and slowly stands at the edge of the bed. He grabs his pajama pants from the floor and quickly step into them with a heated blush on his cheeks. It makes you painfully aware of the mess of an old, ratted t-shirt and shorts you sleep in, though you push it aside quickly because Bucky’s eyes have fallen to the ground and you don’t want him to retreat within himself. Not again.

“Come on.”

You extend your hand for him, waiting patiently as he stares at it for a moment. It’s an intimate gesture, more contact than you’ve had with him, but you know despite his aversion to touch, he craves it unlike anything else. He’s vulnerable right now and you hope he’ll take the anchor as you throw it to him.

When his hand does mold to yours, it fits perfectly, exactly where he’s supposed to be and you can’t help but wonder if he’ll ever let you do this again. You squeeze his hand softly as he finds an even pace at your side and you lead him to the kitchen.

He lets go of your hand to give you enough space to prepare the water, but he’s never far from reach. When you glance back at him, you find a strange mixture of fear and something you can't quite place in his eyes. It isn’t until you catch him surveying the room, the adjoining hallways, the flinches at the slightest settling of the tower, that you realize he’s on guard. It’s like he’s protecting you.

“Take a seat, Buck,” you ask of him gently, nodding to the chair at the kitchen table. “Try and relax for me. Deep breaths, okay?”

He follows your gaze, hesitantly glancing over the area, always on alert, before he turns back to you. There’s a resistance in his movement as he takes his first steps away from you, but he holds your gaze, holds the softness of your smile as long as he can, while he slumps down into the chair. It’s too far away from you, but he manages.

The kettle boils quickly and you slip two bags of tea into the mugs. Hot water in next, you drizzle an ounce of thick amber on top, swirling it around with the heal of a spoon. The smell of earthy apples and sweet nectar.

Honey and chamomile.

When you make your way over to the table to join him, Bucky is slouched down in his seat, dark circles heavy under his eyes, though he forces out a strained smile as you slide in next to him. You drag a chair up as close to his as you can, your shoulders bumping somewhat as you set the mug in front of him.

“Drink,” you tell him. “It will help you fall back asleep.”

“I can’t go back to sleep after that. I never do after... you know,” he mumbles, shaking his head, though he does take in a heavy inhale of the sweet aroma of steam.

“You’re telling me my teas won’t cure all of life’s problems?” you scoff playfully. “Blasphemy.”

It steals a smile from his lips, curving up ever so slightly into his cheeks though you can see his body fighting against it. You set a hand on his forearm, one that comes in comfort by stark contrast of the way he used to flinch out of your touch. With a slight squeeze, you draw his attention back to you, the blue of his eyes overcast into deep navy, lids falling heavy with sleep despite the race of his heart.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened,” you say slowly. “You don’t have to say a thing. Just let me help you, alright? Drink the tea, Bucky. I’m not going anywhere until you do.”

He nods, a slight ghost of a laugh in his exhale. “Okay.”

You smile triumphantly as you pull your own mug to your hands, warmth spreading into your palms and you take a sip. It stings on your tongue a bit, too hot, but it feels nice as it travels down into your chest, warms you from the inside out.

The two of you sit in silence for a while, the only sounds between you coming from the muffled purr of the furnace and the contented sighs as the tea touches your lips. Bucky’s shoulders start to relax as he his mug nears empty, his body swaying in his seat and you can practically see the exhaustion nestled in his bones.

You swig back the last sip in your own mug and set it on the table, a task you’ll deal with in the morning as you slowly push Bucky’s mug out of his reach.

“Come on, Buck. Let’s get you back to bed.”

He comes easily as you offer your hand, guiding him away from the sanctuary of the kitchen and back to the room that holds his monsters. The grip on your hand tightens with every step and you rub your free hand down his forearm soothingly, trying to pull the tension away. You can feel the anxiety rushing through his veins, the panic reemerging back to the surface as you cross the threshold into his room.

You know he won’t ask. He won’t dare because he can so often get wrapped up in his own mind, the chamber of burden and isolation, of guilt and shame, and he often forgets how much of yourself you’re willing to give to him.

So, you don’t say a word as you lead him slowly to the bed, releasing his hand as he slides back under the covers. His body is rigid as ice and you can feel his eyes on you, trying to memorize your face for when the darkness takes over and he prepares for you to leave.

It surprises him when your hand slips over his forehead, brushes up into his hair, and you lean down to kiss his temple. The gasp that it pulls from him is muffled, impossibly sweet, and you linger there a moment longer before you pull away.

Bucky stays silent though you can see the question burning behind the blue of his eyes.

Stay. Stay. Stay.

There isn’t an ounce of hesitancy as you slowly make your way around to the other side of the bed and pull back the covers. The mattress is firmer on this side in its lack of use as your knee dips onto the surface. Bucky is watching you cautiously, stunned, but his muscles start to relax as you settle in next to him.

“This okay?” you ask, just to be sure.

He nods quickly. “Y-yes.”

“Try to get some sleep, alright? I’ll be right here.”

He doesn't say anything, but there’s relief slipping through the tension in his body, pushing out the stones with the gentle flow of a calming stream. You smile at him as you turn onto your side, one hand gently resting on his shoulder, grounding him to the earth, to you.

You close your eyes and hope that he will feel safe enough to follow.

***

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?” Your voice is muffled by the pillow and you turn to find stars still littering the night sky. You don’t know how much time has passed, how long he’s been lying there in the prolonged silence, churning thoughts racing through his mind, so you turn onto your stomach, prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him.

“You wanna go to the tea shop in Brooklyn with me tomorrow?”

You narrow your eyes, confused why he’s asking you near – you check the clock by his bedside – three in the morning. His stare is trained up at the ceiling for a moment before he turns to look at you, ocean blue littered with nerves, a new kind of vulnerability you haven’t seen in him before.

“Of course, Buck. Whatever you--”

“As a date, I mean.”

It catches you off guard, wakes you quickly. Tongue tied and throat dry.

Bucky swallows nervously and you can tell that he’s been working himself up to asking you in the hour or so that he’s been lying here awake as you curled up next to him. There are dozens of excuses brewing in the back of his mind, ways to play this off as a joke or anything but what he wants it to be in a way to preserve the friendship between you, but before he can start the waterfall of backtracking, a smile curves up along your lips.

“That sounds really nice.”

He smiles back at you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Okay, good.” He nods to himself, settling back into the mattress with the widest grin you’d seen on him in ages. It wrinkles up into his eyes, brightens across his face bright and cheery, sits in startling contrast to the way you’d found him just hours before. You like seeing him this happy. You like being the cause of it even more.

“Will you go to sleep now?” you tease him, nudging at his shoulder enough to pull a laugh from his chest.

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“Good. Don’t want you half asleep on our date.” It twists pleasantly in your stomach as you say it, butterflies and goosebumps and you bite back the smile pushing high up into your cheeks.

“Can’t have that,” he replies, chuckling to himself and it doesn’t slip your notice how his smile seems to widen as you say the word, too. Date.

You slide back down onto the mattress, trying to find your comfortable position again when Bucky extends his arm. There’s a short pause as he waits, staring up at the ceiling, and you realize what he’s offering. Without a second thought, like you’re coming home, you scoot your body closer to him, rest your head on his shoulder as his arm curls around your back, holding you securely against him.

The soft thumping of his heart beats gently under your ear, your hand resting against his ribs, tracing lines that leave shivers in their wake. He traces patterns onto your back, his eyes slowly fluttering shut until the movement stops and he falls into the warm embrace of sleep.

You sigh, content in his even breaths, the slow pace of his heart, the muffles snores. Hugging him close, holding him in your arms where he’s always belonged. You fall asleep wrapped in the scent of honey and chamomile.

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #lyn2k

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rainythefox · 4 years ago

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Nightfall (CH.15)

Synopsis: Pre-Resident Evil 1, slight-AU/Canon Divergence. Claire Redfield comes home to visit her brother Chris for the holidays but gets caught up in a dangerous game of cat and mouse with Albert Wesker, the Captain of STARS, after stumbling upon dark secrets. She can’t call the law; Wesker is the law, and she can’t tell Chris. She is trapped…Claire/Wesker & Slight Chris/Jill (There’s Wesker & William Bromance too lol). Rated M for smut, language, violence, adult content.

AO3 Link

Chapter 15:Infatuation

Claire was awake when she heard Chris getting ready for work, but she stayed in bed. She didn’t join him for breakfast or a cup of coffee. She didn’t see him off. She just turned over on her side, away from her door where the hallway light creeped through underneath. She had endured a near sleepless night of tosses and turns, the aches in her muscles a stinging reminder of what she had done.

She must’ve fallen asleep for a couple of hours because she awoke to sunshine peeking through the curtains. The sun was out, reflecting off the snow that blanketed the city. Claire got out of bed and did her usual morning ritual: dressing, brushing her teeth, hopelessly trying to come up with a way to escape her grim situation. Funny how that last one had snuck into her daily routine. Her new normal apparently.

Claire made herself toast and orange juice for breakfast but barely touched it. She tried distracting herself with the newspaper, but there wasn’t anything interesting to read in Raccoon Times.

Umbrella Corporation opens new distribution center, creates 600 new jobs

Mayor Warren promises more funding for local orphanage

Kite Bros. expands Downtown travel with new subway tunnel

Clock Tower Plaza puts up traditional Raccoon City Christmas Tree

Even though Chris left her his truck again, she didn’t want to go anywhere. Where would she go? See a friend and potentially drag them into her situation? Try and get help from someone else that was under Wesker’s boot or on his payroll? Raccoon City seemed like an illusion now, a cesspool of collusion and extortion. As though the rose-colored glasses she had once viewed the city in were ripped from her eyes to expose all of the red flags and blood she couldn’t see before.

Besides, she felt bad for the fight she had with her brother last night. Despite Chris overstepping boundaries with his overprotective nature, he was just concerned for her. He knew she was hiding something and was worried. The Redfield siblings only had each other, for nearly nine years now. Chris had sacrificed time and time again for her, to make sure they could stay together, to make sure she could go to college, always making sure she had what she needed over himself. Even when Chris’s behavior got him discharged more than once, he always put her first.

He knew she could take care of herself. He made sure he taught her all he could. Most brothers were protective of their sisters, but Claire wondered if Chris’s...excessiveness was perhaps a form of PTSD from what happened to their parents. Stepping into that guardian role, he went right into the Air Force, just like their parents. He abandoned a normal future to ensure hers, to keep them together, and to somehow get closer to the parents they had lost.

That was why it was hard to stay mad at him. Even if this time he unmindfully didn’t know the danger he was putting them in with his good, albeit intemperate, intentions.

Claire decided she would apologize when Chris got home that evening. And so, she spent the day trying to be productive, to keep her mind from wandering. She studied for a while, and then cleaned the house for a bit, blasting Queen at high volume. However, no matter what she did, she couldn’t keep herself from thinking about not only her situation, but the man that now had her literally pinned under him. She worried what his next scheme for her would be. But she’d be lying to herself if she denied the excitement that also thrummed through her veins. The strange mix made her queasy.

By the time it started getting dark, Claire realized she had wasted most of her day deep in thought, trying to make sense of it all, plotting for a way out, and maybe spending more time than she’d care to admit thinking about what happened between her and Wesker.

Chris would be home soon, so she started dinner. While cooking, she turned on the television to keep her mind focused, but after a few channel changes, a local news station caught her attention with a caption that filled her lungs with ice.

“Raccoon University professor missing, linked to drugging and sexual assault of multiple students.”

Claire turned up the volume, perturbed, because she just knew which professor they were talking about…

“-ow long has this been going on, Alyssa?” asked the anchor.

The news reporter, a pretty, bob-cut blonde, was quick to answer while standing out in the cold in front of Raccoon University, wearing a white coat and a red suit. “I’m being told this may have been happening for over a year now. The RPD are keeping the victims’ identities under wraps at this time, but I do know there are at least four. Dr. Simon Lowery has been missing for a little over 24 hours, having fled after trying to drug a female student at the open house last night. We have yet to get a statement from his wife, but police are saying she had no idea of his behavior. We’ve heard the same testimonies from colleagues. This is one of those -”

Claire clicked the remote. The TV went black, silent. She stared at the screen, a shocked reflection looking back at her. The news story rubbed her wrong. Lowery was a bad man, she knew that much. He would’ve killed her over those documents, would’ve strangled her in the snow when they fought to keep her quiet over stealing whatever it was she had stolen. But not once did she get the feeling he was like that.

She’d bet money that the news story over Lowery was made up to cover up what really happened. She wasn’t sure if Wesker came up with the story or if it was any of his numerous pawns. Didn’t matter. It proved what she already knew, just like the other day when the news covered that Finley guy’s supposed “suicide” in his car. Just as Wesker had told her before, their fates were whatever he decided. Not just their deaths but their legacies, tainting and twisting them, dismantling and disgracing them, like a true god of death.

The city would never know what really happened to Finley and Lowery, whether they deserved their fates or not.

Claire shook out of her thoughts, a chill running over her as she recalled Finley’s head exploding, blood spraying all over the snow. Why had fate led her down that very same path that day?

A smoky, tangy smell pervaded her nostrils. Dinner was burning! Cursing, she raced into the kitchen to save it. The pork chops were burned on one side but other than that, the rest of dinner turned out okay.

Chris came in not long after she had finished cooking, silently walking over to her spot on the couch as she read a book. The couch shifted when he sat down, and so she looked up from the pages. Still in STARS uniform, her older brother scratched the back of his head, uncomfortable but presenting her an apologetic smile. It was hard to stay mad at him with a puppy-dog face like that.

“Hey…”

“Hey,” she mimicked.

“I’m sorry, Sis. About last night. I clearly went overboard. It’s been eating at me all day.”

“Chris, it’s -”

“Let me finish,” he pleaded. “I know you’re an adult. I know you can kick anyone’s ass. I’m overprotective because of what happened to Mom and Dad.”

She sighed. “I know.”

“But that’s no excuse to act the way I did. I trust you, Claire. And I believe in you. But I get so...obsessed with making sure you’re safe and-and fine that my stupid brain can’t see anything else! I let it get the better of me too much. So, from now on, I’ll work hard to keep myself from going overboard and to trust you more. N-Not that I haven’t trusted you! You’ve never given me a reason to doubt you. It’s stupid of me to act like you have. We’ve always had that unspoken pact that we can tell each other anything and it will always stand.”

Claire shifted uncomfortably in her spot. “A-Always.”

“I love you, Sis. I’m really sorry.”

The Redfield siblings were both stubborn and proud, and so sometimes it was Chris who apologized first and sometimes it was Claire. Although Chris usually gave in before she did. Despite that, this was still pretty soon for Chris to give in, as big as a fight they had. Claire wondered if something happened at work that made Chris come to his senses faster. Maybe Jill talked to him? Wouldn’t be the first time. She was her brother’s best friend, after all.

She decided it wasn’t important for now. She had been ready to apologize to her brother when he got home, and here he was apologizing as well. She was ready to put the whole fight behind them and move on...as best as she could in her predicament anyway. At least Chris had seemingly given up pushing her for answers. What a lucky break! Jill must’ve really lined him out.

Claire hugged Chris. “I’m sorry too, Bro. Love you!”

His strong arms wrapped around her and squeezed hard. For years growing up, it had been the safest feeling in the world. She always cherished it. Soon they pulled away, and got up to eat dinner.

William paced, flipping through pages, catching important details and logging them away at a rate far faster than the average person. Wesker leaned against the wall, dressed in his STARS attire, watching him pace a trench in front of him. Always calm, always collected. How did he do it?!

The cable car shuddered, flicking the light overhead as it rose to the surface. He hated taking this hunk of junk! Normally, he didn’t have to, but they were meeting Irons in the sewers. Perfect place to find the slimy rat.

“No! Goddamn it, no! Why? They said Sheena Island was strictly testing and experimentation! That old bastard is moving my Hunter research there without my consent, and now the Tyrants? Mass production on a prototype? Even if they perfect the Epsilon strain, it’s nowhere near ready for cloning!”

“Are you truly all that surprised?” Wesker asked.

“No, I just…” William sighed. “It’s shit like this that tells me Spencer has no plans to put me on the executive board! If I don’t get in there, we’ll never be able to fulfill our plans! And there’s no way in hell I’m bartering the G-Virus for that spot. It’s my legacy, mine to completely control. He’ll have to pry it from my cold, dead fingers!”

“Best not tempt fate, old friend.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“At any rate, your tantrum is premature. With those numbers, the Sheena Island facility won’t be operable for any kind of mass production until August at the earliest. The research team on the Epsilon strain knows that the T-002 will be obsolete by the time it is finished. More than likely a new model is being developed and that will be the one they intend to manufacture. We have time to take this knowledge and use it to our advantage later.”

Birkin snorted. Lately Al’s “optimism” gave him anxiety. "Don’t you think we have our fingers in too many pies already? And toes at this rate. We’re wearing ourselves thin, Al. With too many enemies waiting for us to screw up.”

It was a reasonable concern. Sheena Island’s true motives were still mostly top-secret for now, going by this information sent by Alex. Roth must’ve bought this information from this other cohort of his, and was probably trying to haggle deals with Mueller, Lowery, and Bard. As well as Crawford and Finley. William made a mental note to thank Alex for this later. Wesker may have been a member of the Umbrella Intelligence Division as well, but he meticulously watched his dealings, aware of Spencer’s tabs on him. Alex didn’t have this problem, and so was their go-to source of anything they weren’t privy to.

His partner scowled. “That is such an absurd idiom. Regardless, we are committed at this point. Roth still has our stolen data and the plans for Sheena Island directly affects our goals. You admitted it yourself.”

The cable car shook and screeched, sliding to a halt. The light above the door turned green, and the robotic female voice told them to watch their step and have a good day. No, he would certainly not have a good day! He was having to deal with this and was about to meet a big rat in a stinky sewer. Didn’t the stupid voice know that? How insensitive!

“Yeah, I know. Guess we better be careful how we handle this.”

Wesker and William exited the cable car and walked side by side through the sewer facility. There weren’t many workers, but they all gave them a wide berth, keeping their heads down.

Wesker chuckled to himself, but William heard it over the water pumps and machinery.

“What’s so funny?”

“Just acknowledging that your prolonged bout of paranoia has made us change places. I’m usually the one telling you we need to be careful.”

They were both ruthless and ambitious, but Wesker had more patience and control. And although his back-and-forth stints of paranoia did make him more cautious, Will still hadn’t developed the patience or control that his partner had always had.

If only you knew why...what he’s making me do…

William frowned, rubbing his shoulder and quickly cleared his throat. “Well, no wonder you're so optimistic lately, taking after me. Like a little ball of sunshine!"

His partner didn’t respond to that, and William hoped it wasn’t because he had caught his nervous tic. In case he did, he quickly changed the subject. “So, did you get the kind of reaction out of Ada you were expecting?”

“More or less. I’m still annoyed by how you handled it though.”

“Look, you asked me to bring Claire up in a way to get a reaction from Ada to see if your suspicions were right and I did just that! You’re welcome, by the way!”

They reached the monitor room where they were meeting with Chief Irons. William entered first, and the Chief immediately noticed him, an Umbrella mercenary on each side of him. His pudgy eyes squinted testily and he opened his mouth to start his usual complaining. That is, until Wesker entered right behind him. His mouth quickly snapped shut. Ah, the benefits of having Al around!

Irons glanced around the room, his usual air of arrogance belittled and squashed like a bug. But there was nowhere to run in this room, nothing to protect him. He was at their mercy, but the tough-as-nails Irons wouldn’t be one to break so easily.

He half-laughed, half-snorted, attempting to cover his discomfort. “Now this must be a special occasion if you're both here. Rumor has it when you two are together, someone's going to die...or wish they would."

"Well, funny thing about rumors, Brian," William smirked. "There’s always some truth to them."

It was fun seeing the color drain from his face only to completely flush red like a cherry. He glared their way, fists forming tightly at his sides. "Oh yeah? And how exactly am I on you two assholes' shit list today? Considering all I do is cover your goddamn tracks and provide you with security all hours of every fucking day. Wait, don't tell me, you two have a rehearsed good cop, bad cop routine just for me?" He laughed. "No thanks."

Will nudged Albert. "Damn it, he guessed it! Wait, am I bad cop this time? I forget?"

"I'm always bad cop."

"No fair! We should take turns!"

Irons rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "Just get to the point of why I'm here. If we're negotiating new deals, it's a bad time. I'm a busy man, after all."

"Funny you should mention that, Chief," Wesker sneered. "We're done negotiating with you."

The Umbrella mercs pulled their guns on the Chief. Irons froze on the spot, eyes bulging and going to the trained weapons, and this time he turned a bit green.

“Listen, Albert...let’s not get too hasty. Let’s talk like gentlemen. I-I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”

His resolve was cracking slowly, but William wouldn’t count the bastard out just yet. Irons had grown complacent in his position, taking advantage of anything he could get his grubby hands on. William and Wesker had allowed much of this behavior to slide in the knowledge that Irons would eventually get himself into a bind. And that’s where he was now.

“Of course, Brian. I am a sophisticated man, after all. Take a seat.”

The Chief of Police looked relieved at that and pulled out a chair and sat down. The Umbrella mercenaries stood at his back, guns still aimed to the back of his head. William and Albert sat down across from him.

William slid a sealed yellow envelope across the table to Irons. “Open it and take a good, hard look, Brian.”

Irons wiped his mustache, a little sweat forming on his brow. He slowly opened the envelope and sifted through the contents. Each page he flipped through he grew a shade whiter, until he was pasty like a ghost.

“What the fuck is this?”

William leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. “Oh, I don’t know. You tell us.”

Irons trembled in his chair, both from anger and fear. He flushed again, one fat fist crinkling a page and he quickly stood. “You fucking bastards!”

One merc’s gun barrel pressed into Irons’ skull and he quickly remembered his place. He slowly sat down. He sure was sweating a lot now!

“You put yourself in this situation, Brian,” Wesker stated. “You know I keep tabs on you and yet you got sloppy. Arrogant, too, thinking you’d be able to set me up.”

“Your sick fantasies with the mayor’s daughter will be released to the public. Your replacement has already been chosen. You will die,” William continued.

“No! No, please! We can come to an agreement!”

“There are no more agreements to come to, Brian,” Wesker growled. “Just two choices. You can die like William so eloquently stated or you can sell the remainder of your pathetic soul to our cause.”

And unsurprisingly, the Chief went with the option that kept his sorry ass alive. “Deal! You got it!”

“And just so we’re clear. That -” William motioned to the envelope. “- never goes away. This is your last chance. Next time...well...there won’t be a next time. Just you dead and your dirty secrets exposed for all to see. Never forget how replaceable you are, Brian.”

Irons slowly nodded, guarded. “And exactly what are you two going to want me to do for your “cause”?”

“You will still perform your normal duties for Umbrella, and only report to me,” Wesker explained. “But if William and I tell you to do something, you do it. Even if it goes against your orders from Umbrella.”

“Fine.”

“William will be taking over as your handler. You should thank him. It was my intention to kill you tonight and he convinced me otherwise. If he asks you to perform in the circus, I expect you to clap your flippers and balance that ball without any disinclination. Do I make myself clear?”

Irons ground his jaw and stiffly nodded. “You always do, Albert.”

William sat up a little straighter, a haughty grin spreading. Albert’s protectiveness of him always gave him a feeling of empowerment, feeding his ego, and made a darker part of himself more bold, more ambitious.

“Don’t worry, Brian,” Will said with a fake, friendly smile. “You do a good job and stay on my good side, I always pay really well, way more than Al does.” He added a postscript after seeing the Chief’s interested grin. “Get on my bad side, however, and you’ll be my newest experiment...just ask Lowery.”

The Police Chief’s relief was short-lived. The mention of Lowery’s name struck something in him. He scowled, stiffening once more, looking between the two partners in crime.

“So you two were behind what happened at the university?”

“Oh yes,” William bragged. “Which is partly how we found out about your little attempt to set up Albert.”

“Which brings us to our next order of business, Brian,” Albert added. “Who was with you when you met up with Aaron Roth?”

Irons shook his head, hands on the table, still aware of the guns at his back. “Look, Lowery and Bard paid me to keep their business dealings hush-hush. I think they were trying to coerce Mueller into selling key information on his project in exchange for getting some crucial research going down on some island.”

Will sighed. “Don’t make Al repeat himself, ya idiot.” He snapped his fingers. “His name? Who is he?”

“S-Some bigshot from Europe who works on this island. He’s partners with Roth, buying and selling research within Umbrella and other companies. Goes by Stefan Bennett, but I couldn’t tell you if that’s his real name or not.”

When Will glanced at Al, a subtle flex in his shoulder was all he needed to read him. Bennett wasn't anyone known to them.

"Where are they hiding out?"

Irons shrugged. "Don't know. I'm only being paid for their meetings. Bennett will be at Bard’s annual Christmas party. I don't know if Roth will be there. He acted like he had other plans."

Like selling my research, the bastard...

"Then I suppose a meeting with Nathaniel Bard is in order," Wesker announced, sunglasses glinting under the fluorescents as he looked to William with a dark grin.

William returned his partner's smirk. "Yeah...It's party time."

(photo by IsmaelUchihaSan)

It was the perfect day for Jill to be off, or not have her shift until the evening anyway. Late morning, while Chris was stuck at the RPD, the girls enjoyed a light brunch and lattes at a quaint coffee shop before doing some last minute Christmas shopping.

Claire always enjoyed hanging out with the older woman. They had a lot in common and Claire was always learning something new with her company. She often found herself wondering if her oaf of a brother would ever romantically ask Jill out. It seemed like everyone could see it but them. Then again, perhaps they didn’t pursue their feelings because of their careers. Claire didn’t know the policies of STARS, but there might be restrictions there.

The two of them picked up Claire’s gift she had bought for Chris and took it over to Jill’s house. The box was tall and rectangular, about the size of a small adult. Though bulky, it wasn’t as heavy as it looked, and with each of them on one end, was able to carry it easily into the home.

They were greeted by Jill’s overly affectionate golden retriever, Bella. Claire flopped onto the floor to properly greet the fluffy, blond dog. Jill giggled at the sight.

“Hell of a guard dog, ain’t she?” Jill joked. “She’ll lick you to death.”

Better than getting my throat ripped out by Wesker’s dog…

Claire pushed aside that unpleasant memory and stood back up. Hard to believe that was only a few days ago. Her hand was already a lot better, but her ankle still hurt like a bitch.

They carried the box into Jill’s other bedroom that doubled as an office and home gym. The STARS Alpha member’s house was a three bedroom, two bath. She assumed the third bedroom was a guest room, but Claire wasn’t sure. Chris’s house was a bit bigger, with three bathrooms. They had their own in their bedrooms and then the guest bathroom in the hallway.

“Thanks for keeping this here for a bit, Jill.”

“No problem. I guess my home is the popular choice to hide gifts. Chris has yours here as well. I’m just waiting for Barry to ask to keep the girls’ gifts here, as if they don’t have enough space in that big house of theirs.”

“Well, you know how Moira is. She gets into everything. They can’t hide any gifts from her! She’s gonna be a handful as a teenager!”

They laughed and returned to the living room, Bella trailing behind them. Jill fetched them some water and the girls took a load off on the sofas.

“The punching bag was a good thought,” Jill declared. “I know Chris has been wanting one.”

Claire nodded, smiling as she watched Bella carry around her favorite plush duck toy. “Yeah. He’s been really wanting to start bulking up more. Although when we were playing on his guitar last night, I realized he needs a new toolkit for it. So I might have to go pick up one of those as well.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot you play too. Why haven’t I got to see you play yet? I’ve watched Chris lots of times.”

Claire shrugged. “I guess we just never think about it when I'm visiting.” The Redfield siblings didn’t mind playing guitar in front of others, but they cherished playing together, reciting notes and melodies their father had played for them when they were young. “Chris told me you played piano? I need to see that!”

Claire didn’t get the piano at all. That was entirely different from the guitar.

Jill softly laughed. “Yeah. It’s ingrained from childhood. Had the meanest instructor ever. Chris jokes that playing the piano won’t ever do me any good, and suggests I learn something else.”

“He’s just jealous,” Claire joked.

Jill laughed at that. “He totally is. You know, I’m happy you two reconciled so quickly. Chris can be so stubborn sometimes.”

“He can be, but I’m not one to talk. Whatever you said to him, it must’ve worked. So thank you for that. I know he’s just trying to look out for me, but it gets old. I’m an adult and can take care of myself.”

The older woman furrowed her brows and shook her head. “It wasn’t me.”

“Huh? It wasn’t?”

“No, it was the Captain.”

Her heart flipped, twisting her lungs to where she choked on air before she could take a drink of her water. It took all in Claire’s power to keep a straight face and feign something catching in her throat. “I’m sorry?”

“The fight you two had upset Chris a lot, affected his performance when we were doing some training. I guess Wesker picked up on it. Apparently, they took a long lunch together, and the Captain helped Chris get his head straight. At least, that’s what Chris told me later.”

Claire was completely freaked out by that information but hid it, wiping her suddenly clammy hands on her pants. She drank half of her water in one gulp and squeezed the bottle so hard it crumpled in the middle.

“O-Oh, I figured it was you.”

“Not this time,” Jill answered. “But it wasn’t without a lack of trying. He just didn’t listen. Not until he had gone too far anyway, the ass. At least Wesker got through to him.”

“Yeah…” she cleared her throat and stood up. “Well, I should get going. I don’t want to take up all of your free time and I have some studying to do. Thanks for helping me pick that up and letting me hide it here.”

It was partially true. Claire didn’t want to take up all of Jill’s day off before she had to go in for night shift. But mostly the recent news had unsettled her and she needed to gather her thoughts on the matter.

Jill smiled, nodding as she patted Bella on the head as the retriever’s big brown eyes stared up at Claire with that duck still in her mouth, tail thumping hard on the hardwood floor.

“No problem, Claire.”

“Stay safe tonight, Jill.”

“You’re not on the schedule...again.”

Ada sighed, crossing her arms and looking at the guard like he was stupid. He was. “I know that. But that won’t matter. William will still see me.”

The guard shifted uncomfortably, studying her suspiciously and then glancing at his list again. “Dr. Birkin is an extremely busy man. He’s been doing important tests all day and asked me to not allow anyone but Mrs. Dr. Birkin and Dr. Wesker entry. I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“I’m here on behalf of Albert. He’s busy at the police department currently. Just give him a ring and you’ll see.”

The guard hesitated, thinking and unsure. Clearly, he was scared to disturb his boss in the middle of his important work.

Ada smiled flirtatiously at him. “C’mon, Johnny. Help a girl out? It’s important.” She winked.

Johnny sighed. “Oh, alright.” He put a hand to his headset. “Dr. Birkin? I’m sorry to bother you, but Ms. Wong insists on seeing you. She says she’s here on behalf of Dr. Wesker.”

The spy didn’t miss how the camera up in the corner of the hallway turned down their way, aiming the attached machine gun right on their faces, blinking red light a far deadlier version of Candid Camera.

“Yes, sir. I understand. Will do,” Johnny said into his headpiece. He nodded at Ada and stepped aside. “You may enter. But please, keep it short. He has much to do.”

Ada waved him off. “Thanks, Johnny.”

She went through the automatic door, was sprayed down again, and strolled through the large, multi-room laboratory. She turned a corner, saw bright yellow and outstretched arms, and, on reflex, kicked the thing away from her.

“Ow!” came a muffled voice.

“Will, you idiot. Don’t sneak up on me like that,” Ada snapped.

The mad scientist pulled the hazmat suit’s helmet off, waddling over to the nearby safety station to strip it off and hang it up.

“I think that’s the closest I’ve ever gotten to scaring you!” William laughed.

Ada crossed her arms, glaring at him. “You didn’t scare me. You didn’t even startle me. You mildly annoyed me.”

“Ugh, you sound like Al. One day I will scare him. It’s on my bucket list. It might get me killed, but imma do it!”

The spy shook her head. “I don’t know about you sometimes.”

Birkin seemed extra...quirky today. He had an extra bounce in his step, grinning, humming as he left the safety station to his main desk. That’s when Ada noticed numerous empty energy drink cans and half a cup of cold, forgotten black coffee.

“How many of these have you had?” He did kind of look like one of those zombies Ada had seen being dissected in the Arklay lab, pale skin and dark circles under his eyes.

“Uhh…” he pondered, counting on his fingers as he twitched and quivered restlessly. “Five? I think?” He flopped down in his chair, shifting it side to side.

Ada leaned against his desk, glancing at the disorganized paperwork strewn about. Her sharp eyes caught many interesting and familiar things: G-Virus, Plant 43, Hunter Beta, Cerberus, NE-Alpha parasite, Lisa Trevor, T-Virus Epsilon. Then her eyes caught the interesting things that she had only seen once and was curious to find out more, now with associated words that intrigued her further: Prototype Virus, Project W, eugenics research, Progenitor, Ndipaya.

She had only a few seconds of absorbing these words before William snatched up the two papers that had anything on it. She watched him open his safe and put them inside, only accessible with a scan of his hand.

Ada acted like none of it interested her. “Five, huh? And how long have you been up, exactly? You look like shit. You smell like shit.”

William lifted his shirt and smelled. “I don’t know, when did Al and I go talk with Irons?"

“That was yesterday morning.”

“Oh...shit. Well, it’s been over 24 hours then.”

“I can tell.”

“So, how’d it go with Mueller?”

“As well as you’d expect. I’ve already relayed the info to Albert. Mueller won’t be a problem. In fact, he’s willing to help if it gets rid of Roth. I guess he feels scammed by the trade.”

William smirked, still swiveling slightly side to side in his chair. “I bet he does. Well, with Lowery no longer having a tongue and Irons and Bard put in their places, looks like we might be able to wrap this up by Christmas!”

Ada rapped her nails on the desk, frowning. “Albert told me the plan. Look, between you and me, I gotta ask...what’s the deal with him and Claire?”

Will chuckled. “What’s wrong? You jealous?”

“In your dreams. It’s just that...I mean, I don’t know the girl,” she lied. “But I thought he was just using her to get to Roth. Why have a fling with her? He doesn’t do that...at least not with just anyone.”

“You sure are a curious little kitty,” William half-joked, half-warned, leaning back in his chair. “What are you hoping to use this knowledge for?”

Ugh, she hated when he was an asshole. Then again, he was protecting Albert and so she should’ve known better. The spy sighed. “Fine. I’m just a little worried about Claire, alright? Can you blame me?”

She knew how Wesker worked. Claire was in way over her head. Didn’t matter how smart and strong she was. Despite being his type, she was still different than most and he did seem to have some kind of soft spot for her. And that is what both bothered and intrigued Ada.

“It’s not like you to worry about others like that. And I can blame you, actually. You got yourself tangled with Al. That’s on you.”

Ada bit her tongue. This wasn’t about her. “And poor Claire got tangled out of her control. C’mon, Will. I’ve helped you two a lot recently. Throw me a bone here. I deserve something in return.”

Will kept a straight face, thinking it over. Ada glared at him. Finally, the Golgotha creator grinned widely and leaned forward. Ada recognized the child-like delight, and knew he was about to spill the beans.

“Alright, alright! I think he has feelings for her.”

Ada laughed skeptically. “Whatever, Will! Tell me for real.”

She had to admit, she had thought something similar a few days ago when she spied Wesker nearly pinning Claire against his car. But she soon dismissed it. He definitely liked her and was attracted to her…but had feelings for her?! That was a little hard to believe.

“I do! He is obsessed, I’m telling you. The girl would’ve been dead a long time now had it been anyone else. He’s given her more chances than I’ve ever seen. He had the chance to pop her brother in the back without anyone knowing and didn’t do it! I don’t think he knows it himself, or he purposely keeps himself in denial, but...there’s something about her.”

Ada frowned, thinking it over. William had a point. All of Claire’s stunts to try and fight Albert should have ended with her dead a long time ago. And how her brother had been getting suspicious and snooping around, well, it should have ended the same with him by now.

“You think she reminds him of Anezka?” Ada asked.

Was that her name? Ada couldn’t really remember. She wasn’t around back then and had only heard all the different stories when she came here a couple of years ago.

“Nah...I mean they’re both redheads and feisty, but I don’t think that’s it. Anna jilted him, and besides being a little touchy over it, he’s moved on.”

“Is that really what happened?”

William shrugged. “I guess? No one really knows...not even Al.”

Ada wished she had been a fly on that wall when Anezka was still around. So many rumors and gossip about what happened. She practically disappeared, as though she was only a dream. But Albert remembered...resentfully. Ada knew him well enough that it wasn’t just his ego that got hurt. He actually had cared for her, and he hated that he did.

“Well, Albert’s given Claire all these chances to let her live. You think he will let her go when Roth is dealt with, as he has promised her?”

William scowled, leaning back in his chair. “What do you think?”

The double agent had no idea why, but her heart sank a little. As if she was hoping for something she knew better of. And here she thought her line of work had snuffed out all remaining optimism in her life.

“He won’t kill her. I guarantee it,” William boasted. “As obsessed and possessive he already is of her, she’s stuck. There will be conditions he gives her. I’m sure you know what those would be.”

“You sound happy about that,” Ada pointed out.

He shrugged, but the slight upcurve of his lips gave him away. “I like the girl. Sherry adores her. She’s proven to be quite resourceful and clever. She’ll be handy to have around. Besides, if Al actually has feelings for her, I gotta see where it goes! The geneticist in me really hopes he knocks her up.”

It may have sounded like a dark joke, but Ada knew the lunatic genius was dead serious. “I’m really disturbed by how obsessed you are with your best friend’s love and sex life.”

“I’m just looking out for him!”

Ada would never understand Wesker and William’s relationship. One of life’s greatest mysteries. But what was also another mystery still was why Wesker had feelings for Claire.

Was she the next Anezka?

She parked right down the road. It was already nearly dark, but at least the temperature hadn’t dropped too much. Claire stuck to the recently salted sidewalks, hands stuffed in her parka. Her heart pounded in her throat, and her mind raced with what he could want this time.

Wesker called her while she was waiting for Chris to get off work, summoning her to his house for an “important discussion”. She was anxious for two reasons. One, the last time she saw Wesker just a couple nights ago, they had sex. And two, after learning from Jill that Wesker was the one who dealt with Chris, she wasn’t sure what that meant for her or her brother.

She was queasy, butterflies in her stomach, but she wasn’t about to lose her cool. More than anything, she feared her body would betray her once more, a dark excitement coursing through her blood.

Upon reaching Wesker’s house, Claire spotted a vehicle she didn’t recognize in his driveway. She didn’t get too close to it, but it looked like a ruby-colored Porsche Boxster. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or not about not being alone with the STARS Captain, but she took a deep breath and rang the doorbell anyway.

After a minute of silence, anticipation eating at her, the door opened. Her heart skipped when those familiar grey-blue eyes and dark smirk greeted her. Her stomach twisted, but Claire couldn’t tell whether it was from disgust or excitement.

“Good evening, Claire,” he purred. He stepped aside to allow her entry. “Please do come in. I don’t want you catching a cold.”

She rolled her eyes and stepped inside. “Thanks.”

He shut the door while she looked around. Odin padded over and sniffed her, docked tail wagging slightly. But she didn’t see anyone who could’ve owned the car outside.

Wesker’s hands brushed up her back. The bad thing was Claire realized she didn’t blench this time. No, this time she shivered in pleasure. She inwardly scolded herself as he took her coat off to hang by the door.

“We have much to discuss, dear heart,” he said, one muscular arm locking around her waist and pulling her deeper inside the house.

That’s when the younger Redfield saw a familiar face come into the living room from the kitchen, carrying a full glass of red wine. She nearly blurted Ada’s name, surprised, but quickly bit her tongue, hiding any reaction. Wesker didn’t know that she and Ada had already met personally. And it needed to stay that way.

“I sure hope you weren’t saving that malbec wine for a special occasion, Albert. I helped myself,” Ada said. When her eyes landed on Claire, she was the perfect actress. There was no recognition, no subtle signs given to Claire. “Is this her?”

“The one and only,” Wesker affirmed.

Ada took a long sip of her wine and sat it down on a coaster on the center table before walking over to them. Wesker stepped away while the double agent looked Claire over, one arm crossed and one hand on her chin as she thought. She walked around Claire and even grabbed her arms and lifted them and spun her around.

“Hmm...Yes, I can definitely work with this.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Claire grumbled. Ada spun her around again and grabbed at her hair. “Hey! What’s the big idea?!”

“Hold still, hun.”

Ada withdrew a tailor tape measurer. She measured Claire’s waist, chest, and height, even her arms and legs. Afterwards, she yanked Claire’s ponytail out and felt through her tresses.

“What are you doing?” Claire snapped.

“Taking measurements,” Ada replied. “Trying to figure out what to do with your hair.”

“Why?”

“I’ll explain later,” Wesker stated. His Doberman sat at his side, head cocked curiously as Ada got handsy with her measurements.

“Okay, finished,” Ada announced, rolling up her tape and putting it in her pocket. She retrieved her wine and took another drink. “I’ll have something ready by tomorrow.”

“What ready?” Claire demanded. “What’s going on?”

Wesker’s lips barely curled upward. “Oh, where are my manners? Claire, this is an associate of mine, Ada Wong. She originally was to pick you up at the university. Ada, you know Claire, I’ve told you all about her.”

The Eurasian beauty dipped her head. “Charmed.” Still completely in character, although Claire now saw something subtle in her eyes as she stared at Claire. Perhaps a warning? Or just acknowledgement?

“You too...I guess,” Claire said.

Wesker chuckled, catching their attention. “You do not have to pretend to be strangers on my account, ladies. I know you’re well acquainted.”

Claire ground her jaw, glaring at him. Ada didn’t even flinch, expressionless. Taking another sip of her wine, she shrugged.

“Can’t pull the wool over your eyes, can I Albert?”

“Oh come now, Ada, don’t be that way,” Wesker teased. He obviously sensed something from her that Claire didn’t. He stepped around the agent’s back and, besides her tensing barely, she didn’t look disconcerted. “You knew the risks when you decided to meet Claire behind my back.”

Ada didn’t say anything to that. Wesker’s dark grin grew a bit more.

“I’m quite curious of your intentions. You’re not the jealous type. And you’re not one to have concern for others. So why so curious about Claire? I know this has nothing to do with what Sergei asked of you.”

Jealous type? Claire glanced between them, not sure what kind of undertones she was reading here. She was missing something, that’s for sure. She could only infer that Wesker was gauging Ada for something.

“I was just curious what you saw in her, I guess,” Ada dismissed calmly.

Cool under pressure. Just like the man testing her.

“And did you figure it out?”

Ada’s eyes locked with Claire’s. “I think so.”

Wesker’s soft chuckle told them he didn’t believe her one bit. “You and William should give up trying to find something that isn’t there.”

Ada didn’t have to say anything. Her smile told it all. She was pleased somehow, as though she read deeper into Wesker’s words somehow. Claire wished she would tell her the secret. And also shake this weird feeling in her chest.

“Am I going to get filled in here on why she needed to take my measurements?” Claire grumbled.

“Yes, my apologies,” Wesker admitted, his full attention on her now, and the younger woman regretted saying anything. “Ada, you may go now. I’ll fill Claire in…” He smirked.

Oh god. Did he just…? Her stomach pitched and rolled. She knew what would happen once Ada left them alone. In his house. It was an instant body verses mind battle.

Ada shrugged and walked away. Claire never wanted someone to stay and leave all at once before. But the Eurasian woman plopped down on one of the leather sofas instead, resuming drinking her wine. Odin left his master’s side to plant himself in front of her, as if expecting Ada to give him attention now that she was sitting down. Claire released a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

Wesker scowled. “Or…make yourself at home.”

“I will,” Ada answered nonchalantly. “I’m not about to let this delicious wine go to waste.” She made a show of swishing the red liquid around in her glass. The wine complimented her burgundy fingernails.

Claire caught the agent’s honey brown eyes as she looked right at her while sipping from her lipstick-stained glass, a coded message for her. You’re welcome…

Claire swallowed mixed feelings and glared at the STARS Captain. “So what exactly are you making me do this time?”

“Relax dear heart, it’s nothing you’re a stranger to. We’re going to attend a party.”

His stereotypical college girl jab aside, it sounded easy enough. But Claire knew better. Whatever kind of party it was, with Wesker involved, there would be danger, deception, and death at every angle…

Claire stared at the mirror, stunned. She wasn’t one to get dressed up, not this fancy anyway. Her red-brown hair was pulled up into messy curls with a few tresses hanging around her face. She had more make-up on than what she was used to. The jade-colored halter dress complimented her hair, eyes, and heels. She was only in the shoes for less than half an hour and her feet were already cramping. How did women wear these things all day?

The two assistants Ada had helping her with Claire were finally finished and departed from the big, spotless, and up-to-date bathroom. They were in Wesker’s living quarters in NEST. The younger Redfield tried not to think about what happened the last time she was here. Wesker and William awaited them in the very same room where she and Wesker fornicated, only having arrived a bit ago while Claire was still being made over.

Ada looked her over one last time, one final judgment for approval. Claire didn’t say anything. She really wanted out of this bathroom, but at the same time, she wasn’t ready for the next step.

Apparently, the crooked STARS Captain had meticulously planned tonight. Chris and Jill were working graveyard shifts while he was off and Claire had to tell her brother that she might would have to stay the night at William’s house babysitting Sherry if her parents had to work all night. All the chess pieces were in place so far. Bard’s Christmas party would last well into the night, and depending on how it played out, they might be there awhile. She could only hope nothing went wrong and would get to return home tonight.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Claire. There’s no doubt about that,” Ada said finally.

“T-Thanks.” She wasn’t expecting a compliment from the older woman.

She looked in the mirror again, distracted. This was a little too much for her, but she had to blend in with the other guests at the party.

“I won’t be surprised if Albert takes you home with him tonight after the party.”

Claire blushed, taken off guard, a near panic in her chest only broken by blood rushing like electricity through her veins. She turned to the double agent, holding her breath. Ada sounded so sure as she looked Claire over. As if she knew something the younger Redfield didn’t. Surely, Ada didn’t know…

“I know what happened between you two,” Ada admitted, reading her mind.

“He,” Claire started to blame her captor, but stopped. Could she honestly say it knowing she had decided to do it? Wesker may have manipulated her into wanting to, but she still chose it all her own, no matter how much she wanted to deny it.

“He what?”

She shook her head. “…Nothing.”

“I told you he always gets what he wants, didn’t I? He’ll make you want it, too. That tongue of his is far more deadly than any weapon he has on him. You have no idea how way in over your head you are, Claire.”

The college student glared at the Eurasian beauty. Was she serious right now?! “You’ve got it all wrong! It was just a one time fling. And as far as the rest of my situation goes, I think I’ve been doing pretty damn good considering!”

Ada sighed. “You’re clever, strong, and resourceful. You’ve handled yourself impressively this past week, but that’s partly why Albert’s so infatuated with you.”

Claire frowned, not sure what to say to that.

“Albert’s hardwired to manipulate and take advantage of anyone and anything he can. You give him an inch and he’ll hook his claws so deep in you, there’s no escape. You gave him way more than that.”

“So what? I’m trapped forever now? Is that what you’re saying?” Dread seized in her chest.

Ada looked to the door, as if suddenly paranoid Wesker and William could be listening in and slightly lowered her voice. “I don’t know. Look…yes, he’s using you to take care of Roth in exchange for your freedom, but William and I suspect that Albert may have developed…”

“What?” Claire urged when the agent trailed off.

Ada quickly shook her head, frowning. “Never mind. Just…keep your head. Do what you must to get Roth where Albert wants him for you and your brother’s freedom. Albert’s got a soft spot for you, he’ll likely keep his word if you’re good. As far as this affair is concerned, I cannot help you. That’s your business. My only advice is that you be careful.”

Soft spot? Where the hell was she getting that? There was nothing soft about that man. Then again, she and William, two people who knew Wesker best, kept saying that, so it had to be true to some degree.

Claire wanted to tell Ada that there wasn’t an “affair”. It was a one time slip up, a mistake, it wouldn’t happen ever again. But she couldn’t even believe herself, so there was no way she would convince the double agent.

“Ok…thank you, Ada. For everything.”

Ada exhaled through a small frown. “Don’t thank me just yet…” She turned, walking for the door and motioning for the younger Redfield to follow her. “C’mon, we have a party to get to.”

Claire inhaled deeply, gathering herself, and followed her out of the bathroom. They came into the den, where Wesker and William sat across from each other on the leather sofas talking. They were dressed in posh black suits. Claire berated herself for goggling Wesker. The bastard was so damn attractive anyway, but that suit was hot! She couldn’t believe how much it actually affected her seeing him in that outfit.

The men noticed them and stood up, but their eyes immediately went to Claire. She suddently felt exposed. William’s jaw dropped and he ogled too. The smirk that slowly grew on Wesker’s face as he took off his sunglasses to look Claire over was wicked. More so, it was hungry. He popped William’s mouth shut without taking his eyes off of Claire and closed in like a predator about to sink its teeth into its coveted prey. His eyes entrapped her, an instant, breath-taking spell, and then she was hungry too, felt it spreading through every inch of her body like wildfire.

Ada was right…Wesker would be taking her home with him tonight. And nothing was going to stop him.

#resident evil #resident evil fanfic #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil 2 #Albert Wesker #Claire Redfield #clairexwesker #claire x wesker #William Birkin #Chris Redfield #chris x jill #Jill Valentine #Ada Wong #fanfiction #fanfic #My writing #archive of our own

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bangtan-madi · 5 years ago

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546 Days Without You — Interlude: Symphony

Pairing — Seokjin x Reader

Tags — boyfriend!Seokjin, older brother!Yoongi, producer/songwriter!MC, military au (ish), idol au (ish)

Genre — fluff, angst

Word Count — 4.2k

Summary — Kim Seokjin is your entire world, and that world falls apart the moment he and your older brother Yoongi are conscripted into the South Korean military.

Part — 7.5 / 15

Warnings — minor language, cute shit that might make your heart explode

A/N — Taglist is open! Comment or submit an ask if you want to be added :)

Previous — Next

There comes a day every year that makes it hard to breathe. For twenty-four hours, it's all you can do to stay sane enough to make it through the day. It's an annual reminder of what—of who—you lost. A consistent beckoning into the shadows of hatred towards the military.

It's been three years. You'd think it would be easier to digest, but every time you try to think about the best friend who died in such a tragic accident, you feel the darkness rising up once again.

It's not easy to distract yourself either. One would think that your incredibly packed semester would be a welcome diversion—after all, you were just days away from spring finals. These next tests were half your entire grade. You had to nail them to pass, and you had to pass in order to graduate next year.

Needless to say, it hasn't been a great day.

Your backpack makes a thud as you drop it onto the counter. Another long day of lectures and studying behind you, a night of part-time work ahead. It wasn't as if you were struggling for money; your brother had graciously paid for your education. You'd fought him on it for months, but he insisted that it was his high school graduation gift to you.

The part-time job you have is part of a work-study program that you have to complete to graduate. It's at a nearby producing studio. You were working there under a false name, as you wanted some real-world experience outside of BigHit and BTS' influence. The last thing you wanted was their notoriety affecting your learning.

All of this is a lot for a twenty-one-year-old to handle, especially without your family. The boys have been on the Wings Tour for a few months, and they'll be gone for many more. You desperately miss your brother and group of best friends. You spoke to Yoongi, Seokjin, and Jimin the most via text, calls, and facetime, but it's just not the same. Even if you were only living in the dorms until you graduated and found a place for yourself, they felt empty without the members.

As you walk to the kitchen, intend set on grabbing a cup of instant noodles before heading to the studio, your phone gives a familiar sound. It's one you have set specifically for Seokjin's notifications. It's less of a ring or ping and more like a sheep's bleat. The twenty-four-year-old thought it was hilarious to set that as his notification alert, and you haven't been able to change the setting since.

A smile sneaks onto your face, and you reach absentmindedly for a cup of ramen. Two more bleats force you to relinquish it and turn to your phone. It had gone off when you left school, but you'd been in such a foul mood that you ignored it.

"What on earth do you want?"

You skim the handful of messages.

“A little birdy told me that you were having a hard time with work and school. Don't kill Jiminie. He's genuinely worried about you. I am, too.”

You roll your eyes, internally cursing Jimin for sharing the things you'd told him about on your facetime the night before.

“So you're going to take the night off and spend it with me. Get dressed for a night of fun. Nothing fancy, I promise. Be ready in ten. Don't worry about work. I took care of that ;)”

“All right...I haven't heard from you but I hope means you're getting ready!”

“Hellooo? Anyone home?”

“Two minutes, [Y/n]!”

“Knock knock!”

Just as you move your fingers to respond, there's a loud banging on the front door. Which should not happen; everyone that lives here has a key. Or at least they should. You don't move, confused as to respond to Seokjin or deal with the stranger outside the dorms first.

His text gives you the information you need, and you burst out laughing at his confession.

“I may or may not have forgotten my key in America...”

Running for the door, you throw it open without hesitation. Seokjin stands on the other side, an embarrassed grin on his face and a small duffel bag in his arms.

"You don't have to say it," he says in a light manner. "I know, I know, I'm an id—whoa!"

Not letting him finish, you cross the small distance over the doorway and crash into him. Your arms wrap around his middle, your hands grip his sweater, and your face buries into his neck. You're silent, and you can tell Seokjin is thrown off by your sudden show of physical affection; it's not like you at all.

A few moments pass, as does the initial surprise. Seokjin's long arms slip around your frame, bringing you even closer. His chin rests on your head, and he hums a happy sound that reverberates through his chest.

"Nice to see you, too," he chuckles. "Miss me that much, huh?"

"I had no idea you were coming back so soon," you murmur, not moving an inch away.

His voice gets softer as he moves a hand through your hair. "I overheard you and Jimin-ah on the phone last night. I didn't mean to, I was just passing through his room and...yeah. You sounded really upset. Jimin told me after what was going on, and that he thought you were spiraling again."

Your fingers tighten around his clothing at the passive mention of the sources of your anxiety. He was right. Between work, school, and traumatic anniversaries, you feel like you're stuck on a roller coaster bound for a panic attack.

"I couldn't just let you deal with that all by yourself, so when I found out we had a few days off, I knew I could make it here to spend them with you."

"You flew all the way from Chicago to make sure I was okay? That flight is like...twelve hours, Seokjin."

"Fourteen, actually," he corrects, then rubs a hand up and down your back. "You're worth it, Jagiya."

Heat rises in your cheeks at his sweet words. Pulling away from him slightly, you look up and ask, "How long do you have before you have to fly back?"

The brunet grins. "I have to be in Anaheim in two days for the last two US shows. Which means I need to fly out early the day after tomorrow. Until then, I'm all yours."

"What did I do to deserve you?" you ask, a genuine smile coming onto your face for the first time in days.

Seokjin's chest puffs out proudly at your praise. When he looks you up and down, his broad shoulders slouch. "Why aren't you dressed?"

Glancing down at your sweatpants and over-sized hoodie, you grumble, "I didn't get your texts until two seconds before you knocked, stupid."

"Well, go get changed. You need a night out of the house, and you're lucky I'm in the mood to have some fun. No school, no work, no tour: just you and me for once." Seokjin gives your shoulder a gentle shove. "Shoo!"

Though throwing a glare at your best friend over your shoulder, you scurry down the hallway and do as he asks. It's been a while since you'd broken the usual school-work-sleep routine, and even longer since you'd had a night out with one of your closest friends. Your heart soars, your mood instantly lifts, and your hands reach for your favorite outfit.

After changing and throwing your hair up into a casual and no-nonsense style, you grab an overcoat and rush down the hallway. Seokjin is peaking out the window, barely showing his face through the slits of the curtains.

"Your bodyguard outside?" you inquire.

He nods. "I told him we'd be home the entire night, but I don't think he's going to leave until we fly out. Love the guy, but I don't really feel like being babysat tonight." As he turns, his eyes widen as he sees your outfit change. "Wow, you look really pretty."

"Is that a compliment I hear, Kim?" you tease, using your usual sarcasm to hide your embarrassment.

Seokjin grumbles something along the lines of, "I always compliment you," before grabbing your hand and tugging you towards the back door. "Let's blow this popsicle stand."

At the reference to an American show that you both adore, you roll your eyes and allow him to take you down the hallway, through the back entrance, and towards the fire escape at the side of the dormitory building. The sunlight is warm and golden as it disperses across the horizon. The beams catch through the window as Seokjin pulls it open, offering you a hand as he crosses the boundary.

"You're going to get in so much trouble," you giggle.

He helps you over the ledge, careful not to tear your outfit or jacket in the process. He doesn't even try to hide the amused smirk as he replies, "If I get in trouble, you'll be in even worse wear, with your overprotective brother."

"That's true."

"So let's not get caught then, okay?"

You gesture to the expanse of Seoul beyond the fire escape, worries of school, work, and loss long forgotten in the dormitories. "Lead the way, worldwide fearless!"

After scurrying down the fire escape, Seokjin takes your hand once more and glances down at his watch. "We still have some time. Wanna grab some food?"

"Time before what?" you inquire.

Seokjin fishes his phone from his pocket and pulls up Google Maps. "What are you in the mood for? There's a market close by. They have just about everything."

"Maybe if you answer my question, I'll answer yours?"

Your best friend turns to you, staring at you with playful intensity. "Will you just let me surprise you for once in your entire life?"

Though with a pout, you grumble your agreement, then mutter something along the lines of, "Bungeoppang sounds good."

Seokjin presses a quick kiss to your temple, catching you off guard and bringing a rush of heat to your face. "Follow me."

The two of you venture for a half-mile before rounding the final street corner. The market just beyond is tiny, nestled in the heart of the neighborhood, but it's bursting with life on this late weekday evening. Smells of freshly cooked food fill the air, and the sounds of distant chatter make it to your ears.

Seokjin tugs a beanie from his jacket pocket, pulling a pair of sunglasses from the other. It's his go-to disguise when he doesn't want to be spotted.

You take the beanie and tap his shoulder, gesturing for him to bend down. He follows your wordless command and allows you to slide the beanie over his brown hair. After taking a moment to adjust it over his ears, you pat the top of his head and smile down at him.

"You always miss around your ears," you explain.

The brunet chuckles as he straightens up and slides his sunglasses over his eyes. "At least everyone expects me to be in America still for the tour. We should be okay with just this."

You take the lead this time, grabbing the edge of his sleeve and tugging him towards a Bungeoppang vendor at the edge of the market. Your eyes catch the steaming fish-shaped buns with fervor, and you order enough for the both of you.

"These always remind me of Daegu," you explain to Seokjin as the woman behind the booth hands you the order in a small paper bag. You bow out of gratitude and turn to hand one to him. "They were Jun-ho's favorite."

Seokjin's gaze softens at the name you mention. You bite your lower lip and turn away from him, walking along the path beside the market. You hadn't meant to bring him up, but even if you were doing better, the best friend you'd lost is still on your mind.

What you didn't know at the time is that Seokjin already knew about Jun-ho. He would tell you everything later, but Yoongi had shared the story while on the Wings Tour. As the anniversary of Jun-ho's death grew closer, everyone noticed how distant and depressed you were becoming. Seokjin was especially concerned, so Yoongi felt obligated to share. He told him about your childhood friend from Daegu, how he enlisted and died shortly after in a training exercise gone wrong, and how you blamed yourself.

"Don't tell her I told you any of this," Yoongi ended the story with. "It's her biggest burden, and she will get better after the anniversary passes, but she's never in a great place this time of year. Give her time and patience and love. She'll need it more now than ever, especially from you."

"What, from me?" he sputtered.

Yoongi rolled his eyes. "You both are fucking oblivious, I swear."

Your brother's words continued to rattle around in Seokjin's head for weeks; they're what prompted him to fly back to Seoul to spend his free days with you. Now more than ever, you needed someone to rely on, and he'd be kidding himself if he didn't want that person to be him.

His voice is gentle as he catches up to your side. "You wanna know what reminds me of Daegu?" You glance up at him, waiting silently for him to continue. "Haunted houses."

Those two words cause you to scoff and hold back your laughter, fearing you'll choke on your fish-buns. Seokjin grins widely and takes a bite from his own.

"I'm serious! You remember that, right? That haunted house tour we did a couple of Halloweens ago?"

After swallowing, you reply, "How could I not? We were all scared shitless! I'd never seen you make such ridiculous faces, and that's saying something!"

"Well, you weren't some beauty queen either, Min [Y/n]! I have photographic evidence."

You knock your shoulder against his arm. "Neither of us were as scared as Hobi, though. He took the cake with his reactions."

"He's always over-the-top," Seokjin agrees with a laugh. "That's my fondest memory of Daegu. Definitely that trip. When was that, 2014? 2015?"

"2015," you agree. "I'd just turned twenty."

The words you don't say are that that trip was mere days before you'd lose Jun-ho. In hindsight, realizing that those were your childhood best friend's last days in this life, the trip has been tainted. But Seokjin couldn't have known that, so it wasn't his fault for bringing it up.

"Such a baby," he teases.

You turn and give him a scowl. "Old man. You're only three years older than me."

He rests his free hand on your head, ruffling up your hair ever so slightly. "You kids these days, so angry!"

The conversation continues until you reach the end of your snacks and the end of the path around the market. As you toss the bags into the recycling bin, Seokjin checks his watch once more.

"What are you waiting for?" you ask.

"The perfect moment?"

"That's awfully vague. You keep checking your watch. What, got a hot date or something after you spend a few hours cheering up your sad excuse of a friend?"

"Um, best friend, actually, and nope. I told you. I'm all yours, Jagi."

You playfully fan yourself with your hands, giving a fake, wide-eyed look of wonder. "The Kim Seokjin, all mine for the night? Wow. I really am one lucky girl."

The brunet turns and grabs your hands. Instantly, you stop moving, and he cocks an eyebrow out of annoyance. "Just once, can you not deflect everything I say with sarcasm?"

"What if I don't?"

"You know, I was going to tell you where we were going next, but now I'm not going to." He turns to head further into the city, pulling you behind him. "Don't argue. Just walk."

Several minutes of silence pass as he leads you down the busy streets of Seoul. The sun sets along the way, casting the city into hues of blue and purple. Neon lights flash brightly as the shop and restaurant signs alert passersby to their presence.

You stop in front of a local theater. It's not a new venue; it's been there as long as you can remember. The sign out front says that the shows are all sold out, including the show for the world-famous orchestra playing tonight.

"Hope this wasn't your plan," you murmur, disappointment slipping into your voice. "Should've bought tickets."

Seokjin steps towards the door, tugging you alongside him. He enters the building, gesturing for you to stay quiet with a finger to his lips.

When he approaches the front desk, he bows politely and asks, "I'm sorry to bother you, but do you have a restroom we could use? Everything out there is too crowded, and my wife gets anxious in crowds."

If you weren't in public in front of a very nice woman who looks at you with concerned eyes, you might've smacked Seokjin on the back of the head.

"Of course," she says softly, then motions to the small hallway adjacent to the lobby. "It's that way, first door on the right, across from the stairway. There's also a door that leads directly onto the street on the left. I'd suggest checking out the stores on that side when you're finished; they tend to be quiet and not very crowded this time of day."

Seokjin gives her another bow and thanks her profusely. He pulls you down the hallway, then rounds the corner towards the restroom.

"What was that?" you exclaim, keeping your voice at a whisper level.

"Our way in, duh. Be quiet. I know where we can go from here."

When you approach the restrooms, instead of turning right, Seokjin turns left and pulls you up the stairs. First to the second floor, then to the third, and eventually onto the fourth floors, he guides you towards the loft level of the theater, where only staff members are allowed. He pushes through an unmarked door and quickly shoves you both inside.

When you turn, you're greeted by the rafters that support the ceiling of the theater. The wood is just above Seokjin's head, and he has to duck to move comfortably. Ten feet ahead of you, the floor drops off to reveal the stage below. Though it's small, it houses all sorts of lights and props. From this tiny perch above it all, the two of you have a perfect view of the orchestra.

Instead of saying something witty, you're stunned into silence. Careful feet take you towards the edge, fearful of falling but still enamored with the sight in front of you. The edge is lined with several thick, metal rails as to keep those from falling, but you're still able to clearly see down into the orchestra. Every single instrument is beautifully positioned as if this seat was the one they were all playing for.

"Jinnie," you murmur, using your affectionate nickname.

Seokjin takes a seat near the edge, close to the middle where it's easiest to see through the gaps in the railing. He looks up at you and pats the space beside him. "They're about to start."

For once not wanting to fight him, you position yourself at his side, shedding your coat and leaning forward to see the conductor tap his baton against the metal stand.

The music begins with a softness that is felt deep in your soul. It grows slowly, gradually, building up inside you as much as it does in the theater. The acoustics are amplified by the rafters, creating a song of harmony and a chorus of emotion.

Orchestral music has always moved something inside you; ever since you were small, it's always been a source of great peace, clarity, and creativity. Every fiber of your being is set alight with the wondrous music around you. Every worry, every anxiety, every fear and painful memory falls away. The orchestra clears your mind of everything but the music and the man you're listening with.

Your eyes flutter shut as the modern piece of art grows more powerful. The violins blend perfectly with the trumpets. The cellos harmonize with the harps. The choir sings in tandem, and the piano adds to the splendor.

Surely, this is what the angels in heaven sound like.

Minutes turn into hours, and pretty soon the silence returns as the final piece comes to an end. Applause and cheers roar like thunder, and you lean against Seokjin's shoulder with an easy smile plastered on your face.

"Thank you for this," you whisper, not wanting to break the blissful aura around you. You turn and look up at your companion. "For everything. I needed it badly, and you flew across the world for me."

Seokjin slips an arm around your shoulders, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple in the process. "I know you've been going through the motions lately. If I can cheer you up, even just a little, I'd fly all the way to the moon for you."

"All the way to the moon, huh?" you chuckle, curling into him. "Sorry I was so sarcastic and weird earlier. It's been hard lately, especially with you boys gone."

"Don't be sorry. We all get in weird moods. I'm no exception, trust me. Ask your brother...or any of them actually. They'll be happy to snitch."

Your laughter grows, and you pull away to look at him in the eyes and cup his face between your palms. "What did I do to deserve you?"

Seokjin offers a small smile. He turns to kiss the interior of your hand, his gaze set on you the entire time. "You deserve the world, Jagi, and a whole lot more than me."

A lump forms in your throat at his words, and in a burst of bravery, you reply, "What if I don't want the world? What if what I want...is just you?"

His dark eyes widen, and his lips part slightly, all in surprise. For a brief second, you feel your heart skip a beat and sink into your stomach. You attempt to steady your breathing and hope to god he can' feel your hands shaking against his face.

"What would you say to that, Seokjin?"

Those same brown eyes gloss over, and a wide smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "I'd say...that’s the cheesiest damn thing you’ve ever said."

Just as swiftly as the music stopped, Seokjin's lips are on yours. His kiss is sweet and gentle, pillowy in texture and pressing ever so softly against yours. You hadn't expected him to act on those feelings so suddenly; hell, you didn't realize he returned your affections at all.

After the initial surprise subsides, you close your eyes and lean into him, using the hands on his face to bring him even closer. Turning your face slightly, the angle of the kiss changes. Seokjin takes your movements as a sign of approval, and he slips his hands down to your waist.

A moment. And another. That first kiss lasts only a few of those, but it feels like forever. When you part, your eyes remain closed for another heartbeat, not wanting that first kiss to end.

"Look at me, Jagiya," he breathes.

Your eyes blink open, and you do as he asks. His face, mere inches from yours, is as radiant and joyful as you'd ever seen it. He holds you close, as if you're the most precious thing he's ever touched, and god you hope you are.

"You know how long I've been wanting to do that?"

"Only if you know how long I've been wanting you to do that."

Seokjin laughs and presses his lips hastily against yours. "What is it with us and wasted time?"

Cocking an eyebrow, you say, "Well, I don't see you making up for it right this second, hm?"

Taking that as an invitation, the brunet leans in again and catches your lips with his. This kiss is hungrier than the last. It's playful and teasing. Teeth tug on lips, tongues dance together, and bodies move closer. His fingers grip the fabric of your top, and yours move from his face to his shoulders. Between the kisses, there's smiles and laughter and whispers of sweet nothings.

Long after the stage lights dim lower and the orchestra departs for the evening, you and Seokjin are happily spending the night in each other's embrace, sharing kisses and conversations in the theater rafters. A day that started with a lingering shadow from your past and impending anxieties from your future has ended in the best possible outcome. You wouldn't change anything for the world. Even if you wake up tomorrow and have to face the real world and her stress once again, there are few things that Seokjin's friendship and love cannot make easier.

Few things are certain in life, but there's one thing you know for sure. The memories of this night, both the symphony and his kiss, will be at the forefront of your mind for a long time.

Taglist — @joyful-jimin, @gracehiii, @live-2-fangirl, @rjsmochii

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avengerscompound · 5 years ago

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Home - Chapter 3

Home: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Word Count: 1706

Warnings: Angst, parenthood, sexual manipulation, action, injuries, underage drinking and drug-taking.

Synopsis: 16 Years after the death of Daisy, Steve and Bucky have successfully raised two teenage kids with telepathy. Teens are never easy to live with though. Sarah in particular likes to test boundaries. Now on top of all the usual challenges of parenting, they have to deal with troublemaking demigods, a daughter who just wants to be accepted for who she is and running the Avengers. That’s when the children of other super-powered individuals start going missing.

Chapter 3

Sarah spent the rest of the week at school with the mundies. Her dads’ attempt at her having a normal life. It made her feel anything but normal. Being around so many people thinking so many ridiculous thoughts was like being constantly yelled at about algebra and which member of whatever dumb band was the hottest.

She could shut them out but turning off her ability took energy and she had to focus on it. If she was focusing on that then how do you learn? If you’re not learning why be at school?

She also didn’t know for sure if she was learning. Sometimes she knew. She’d get an assignment, take it home and work on it by herself locked in her room. If she could figure it out then yes, she had actually absorbed the necessary information. If not she’d go to Vision and he’d help explain it in a way she understood.

At school though she was just a mess of other people’s thoughts. Taking a test was futile. It meant nothing. When a room full of people are all thinking the same thing it was hard for her to know if she was also thinking it because she knew it, or because their thoughts had overwhelmed her.

She had made some friends though. A small group of kids whose thoughts didn’t anger or disgust her. Who when she spent time relaxing around their silliness was both intoxicating and a relief. Her group of friends consisted of three other people.

Daniel, a small pale blond kid who wore glasses and had severe asthma and mild autism. He was quiet and liked video games and his thoughts were never cruel. In a lot of ways he reminded Sarah of her dad, but in many ways, he was as far from Steve as he could be.

The other two were twins, McKenna and Olive. Identical in most of their physical features. Curvy and beautiful with dark, warm complexions. McKenna wore her hair in long braids and dressed in plaid and denim. Her thoughts were mostly about math. She thought about math way too often to be normal. If she wasn’t thinking about math she was thinking about ways to annoy her sister. Olive wore her hair in short dreadlocks. She tended to wear floral dresses and knee-high socks. Though not all the time.

Olive was the girl who filled Sarah’s thoughts the most. She was glad they were friends. She just wished she wouldn’t keep pretending to like boys when she didn’t. Olive did have very confused thoughts. Sometimes Sarah just wanted to grab her and kiss her. Instead, she just settled for the fact that because Olive was so confused she did that thing where you’re overly affectionate. They hugged and held hands a lot.

The four sat at their usual table in the cafeteria. Sarah was scowling. Lunch hurt the most. There was so much noise. She concentrated hard and switched it off.

“What the hell was that car you drove to school in today?” McKenna asked. She threw a tater tot into the air and caught it in her mouth.

“My uncle gave it to me for my birthday,” Sarah answered. She wasn’t really paying attention. She found it hard to when she had to focus on keeping everyone out.

“What the hell does your uncle do that he can afford to buy his niece a Bugatti? And is he married?” McKenna said.

Sarah rubbed the bridge of her nose. One of the reasons why she liked this particular group of friends is they had no idea who she was in the grander scheme of things. In the past when people had found out who she was, they either rejected her because of what she could do, or they used her as a way to touch fame.

“He’s in IT. And he is. Sorry.” She says.

“Have you all asked anyone to the dance?” Daniel asked. He was fiddling with his fingers and wouldn’t look them in the eye.

“Nah,” McKenna replied. “Do you want to go with me, Dan?”

“Really?” He said.

“Of course. I’d love it.” She said.

Daniel looked really pleased with himself before accepting. “What about you, Sare? Got your eye on any boy to ask?” Olive asked.

Sarah shrugged. “The only guy at this school I like in any way just said yes to McKenna.” She answered. Daniel blushed a little. “I think I need some air.”

She got up and headed outside being closely tailed by Olive. “What’s wrong, Sarah? Do you actually like Daniel? I think McKenna just asked him to be nice. If you said you wanted to she’d back off.”

Sarah shook her head. “No, it’s not that. I was just getting really hot in there. And I wouldn’t doubt what’s going on with Dan and McKenna if I were you.”

“Really? She hasn’t said anything to me.” Olive said.

“And have you said anything about who you like to her?” Sarah asked.

“No, but I don’t really like anyone really.”

Sarah frowned. “Okay. Sure.”

Olive took her hand. “Can you believe we’re going to Artmania tomorrow?”

“Nope. My dads are so overprotective. I am always surprised they let me go anyway. I’m so excited though.” Sarah said, squeezing Olive’s hand.

“You know we wouldn’t have come to see you people if I had any other choice.”

Steve watched the perpetually angry Jessica Jones pace his office as she ranted at him. Her husband Luke sat looking defeated in the chair opposite him.

“Ms. Jones, I’m more than happy to help, but you haven’t actually told us what the problem is,” Steve said.

“It’s our daughter Danielle. She’s been missing for three days.” Luke said.

“Why didn’t you come sooner?” Steve asked.

“I find people. It’s what I do! I should be able to find my own kid.” Jessica snapped.

“So tell me what you have found.”

Jessica and Luke gave Steve the complete rundown. Their twelve-year-old daughter, Danielle had gone to school on the bus as usual but had never come home that night. She had gone to school as normal, caught the bus home as she always did. She’d gone missing somewhere between the bus and home and no one seemed to have seen anything.

“She can fly can’t she?” Steve asked.

“It’s more like controlled falling. And before you ask, she didn’t run away. I’m sure of it. Someone has taken her.” Jessica snapped.

“What other abilities did she inherit?” Steve asked.

“All of them. She has the bulletproof skin, the strength, the flying.” Luke answered.

“So if she was taken, there must have been a struggle,” Steve said.

Jessica picked up a chair and threw it. It shattered against the wall. “I knew these holier-than-thou fucking Avengers wouldn’t help us!” She yelled. “Someone took her! You have children! What if it was one of them missing?”

“Jessica, I’m just thinking out loud. If someone took her, then someone saw it. If someone saw it and they’re not saying; they’re scared.” He looked at his watch and then back to the couple in front of him. “My daughter will be home soon. She’s met Danielle hasn’t she?”

“What does that matter?” Jessica asked.

“You know what she can do right? If she knows what Danielle’s mind feels like she’ll be able to tell us where she is.” Steve answered, trying to remain calm. This was troubling though. He was pretty sure Danielle had probably just run away. He knew first hand what twelve-year-old girls could be like. If she had the powers they said, it was unlikely she could be taken anywhere against her will. If they were right though and she had been taken; he didn’t even want to contemplate what that could mean.

“I think they met. It was a long time ago though. During the attack by the Shi’ar Empire and we left her here with Potts.” Luke said.

“FRIDAY, can you send Sarah in here when she gets home,” Steve said.

The voice of FRIDAY filled the room. “Sarah returned home ten minutes ago, Captain Rogers. Do you want me to send her in?”

“Thank you, Friday.”

Sarah sulked into the room a few minutes later. “Dad, I swear to god, I didn’t cheat and if I did I didn’t mean to. You know how hard …” She cut herself off when she saw the others in the room. “What’s going on?”

“Sarah you know Ms. Jones and Mr. Cage don’t you?” Steve asked.

Sarah shrugged. “Yeah, sort of.” She said. Then her eyes lit up. “Oh my god! Am I going on a mission? I’ve been training heaps. I can do it!”

“It’s not that, Sarah. Their daughter has gone missing. Do you remember Danielle?” Steve asked.

“Uh, sort of. You want me to find her?” Sarah looked at Jessica.

“No, I want to keep worrying about her until it kills me. Of course, I want you to find her if you can.” Jessica snapped.

“It’s been ages. Can you think of the last conversation you had with her? Like actually picture it.” Sarah said.

Jessica closed her eyes and thought about talking to Danielle over breakfast. How she’d needed three different forms filled out to go on the school camp.

Sarah pulled away and then flopped down on one of the chairs. “This could take a while. Dad, I’ll probably need something to eat when I’m done. This kind of thing always fucks me up.”

“Language, Sarah.” Steve scolded. Sarah could feel how both Jessica and Luke wanted to laugh but they couldn’t quite bring themselves too. Their worry was consuming them.

Sarah closed her eyes and sent her mind out. She scanned the city of New York first, touching on any mind she found even vaguely familiar. When that brought up nothing she spread out. She became a machine touching every mind like they were connected via a living circuit. Checking to see the brain pattern she knew to be Danielle Cage. She touched everyone everywhere and found nothing.

She opened her eyes. Her mouth felt tacky. The sky had gone dark outside. She must have been searching for hours.

“Did you find her?” Luke asked looking at her hopefully.

Sarah looked over at her father not knowing what to do. He handed her a glass of orange juice and nodded to her. “I don’t know how to say this. But if she’s still alive I don’t think she’s on Earth anymore.”

Jessica broke down in tears.

// NEXT

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x steve rogers #captain america #captain america fanfic #the winter soldier #the winter soldier fanfic #stucky #fanfic #fanfiction #finding home #home

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1thousandminus7 · 8 years ago

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Ready or Not

A little something I wrote since I am UTTERLY OBSESSED with Yuri on Ice right now. It will also be up on my Ao3 account- same username, same title.

Summary: There are always going to be problems with their age. Yuri wants to prove he’s adult enough for Otabek, but maybe he needs to learn that innocence isn’t such a bad thing after all. Basically just pure fluff.

Rating: T

I can't believe I'm doing this. I can't believe I'm actually doing this.

Yuri Plisetsky leaned against the rail surrounding the rink, watching his- rival? Friend?- Katsuki Yuuri choreograph his latest routine. He knew Yuuri came here regularly, and had come here deliberately looking for him, because he needed- oh god it hurt to even think it- he needed relationship advice. And, well, he couldn't exactly go to Victor. Victor was... flighty, to say the least. He'd probably say some meaningless drivel about how he had to figure it out himself, and then lapse into some sickening story about himself and Yuuri. And by god, Yuri did not need to know about Yuuri and Victor's sex life. He knew that Yuuri came here on his own on purpose, the two of them having mutually decided their routines should be entirely secret until the day of the competition. That way they couldn't deliberately one-up each other in practice. Which meant that he was the only one here. Well, this was probably the best opportunity he was going to get, Yuri supposed, so he'd best get on with it.

It had started... a while ago, he supposed. After the GPN, he had begun to spend more and more time with his new friend. Otabek was good company, and he found himself looking forward to visiting whenever he had the opportunity. Then, one night he'd sat down and considered his actual opinions of the man, and come to the conclusion that maybe- just maybe- his attitude towards the Kazakh was not entirely platonic. And whilst he was a very prickly person, he did have a habit of wearing his heart on his sleeve. It was only a matter of time before his stumbled sentences and frequent blushing around the older man came to his notice. One night, Otabek had suggested they see each other, to which Yuri had enthusiastically agreed. He had felt a now familiar bubble of joy in his chest as Otabek held out a helmet for him to take, and he had climbed onto the back of the motorbike he was so accustomed to. Arms around the Kazakh's waist, he had watched as streets, cars and buildings blew past them, until he stopped outside... an apartment block? Otabek had always taken him out somewhere, whether to eat,to a fair, to the cinema, it didn't matter. Never back here. Otabek had invited him into the flat he was staying in during his time in Russia, and had sat him down on his sofa. At this point, Yuri's stomach was tying itself in knots as he wondered what exactly was going to happen. Otabek had given him one of his soft, rare smiles as he'd gone to the little kitchen he had, and came back with two coffees. Yuri's was perfect- full of sugar, just how he liked it. Then he'd sat beside him, and said that dreaded sentence.

"I think we need to talk."

Yuri hoped the way his hands were shaking wasn't too obvious to the older man as he tried to play it casual.

"About what?"

Otabek took a sip from his mug, the picture of calm, and then said without missing a beat, "You have feelings for me, don't you?"

Yuri had almost choked on his coffee, having to put it aside to stop his coughing. He swore he heard a small exhale of air which might have been a laugh from his friend.

"What? No, I... I'm not- Maybe Katsudon's rubbing off on me." He made a lame excuse, but he knew it was already too late. He could feel the humiliating flush across his nose and cheeks, a surefire sign. He huffed and turned away, looking surly. This time, Otabek did laugh- only a short, quiet laugh, but still.

"You can only interact with so many fans before you start to notice these things." He told Yuri, his voice soft, in no way mocking. Yuri chanced a look at him, saw that he too had put his drink aside, and was looking down at his clasped hands.

"...Is that gonna make things weird?" Yuri asked, still mad at himself for being so obvious.

"I don't know." Otabek turned to face him, his expression serious. "You're sixteen. I'm nearly twenty."

"So?" Yuri blurted before he could help himself. "Victor's like five years older than Katsudon. They seem to get on well enough."

"They're both adults."

Yuri's eyes widened slightly, and he felt himself flush again, angry now. "So I'm a child to you?"

"That's what I need to know." Otabek looked him in the eye. "Are you serious about this? I won't lie and say I haven't... thought about you." Yuri's breath hitched. He searched Otabek's face, looking for anything that could tell him what he needed to know- does he like me, too? "But I won't entertain a puppy crush. I need to know that you're sure you want this."

Yuri blinked. He glanced over his friend- his dark, serious eyes, his hair, still windswept from their ride, the confidence with which he held himself. And listened to the flutter in his stomach.

"Yeah. I do."

"Have you been in a serious relationship before?"

"Uh, not really. Haven't really had time."

"Hm." Something in Otabek's expression shifted, and for a moment, Yuri was scared that was going to be a deal breaker. Then he smiled again, quietly amused. "The press is going to tear us apart, you know that, right?"

"Tch." Yuri sniffed. "Fuck them."

Otabek laughed properly, something that happened rarely enough that it made Yuri smile every time he heard it.

"Yeah." Then he sobered up. There was a moment of silence, which Yuri didn't know how to break, and then Otabek moved. He moved closer to Yuri, so they were face to face, and Yuri had to swallow to fight the sudden dryness in his mouth. "...May I?" The dark haired man asked, and Yuri nodded, though he was suddenly painfully nervous. Somehow, being close to Otabek made him feel an awful lot like he did before a performance. The older man seemed to sense this, because he raised a hand to Yuri's cheek in a comforting gesture before he closed the distance.

Yuri didn't know what to do. Otabek's lips were warm, and slightly damp. His hand on Yuri's cheek felt nice, and the way he moved caused Yuri's face to heat up, and a strange, but not unpleasant sensation to settle in his stomach. Should he- was it okay to touch back? Should he try to take control, or just... let Otabek do what he wanted? He wanted to reach out, to touch Otabek's chest, to move closer, but he didn't know if that was okay, if that was the right thing to do. So instead, he just closed his eyes and returned the kiss to the best of his ability. He felt Otabek's fingers thread through his hair, and heard himself sigh at the feeling. Otabek broke the kiss for a moment, kissed him once more, then pulled back. His eyes searched Yuri's face.

"Hm. Not bad."

Yuri blushed, and hit his shoulder lightly. "Shut up." He glared at the man for a moment, then the smile he was holding in escaped, and he shifted closer to Otabek, resting his head on the older man's shoulder, like he'd wanted to do for a while. Otabek seemed to stiffen slightly, shocked by the move, then relaxed, his arm resting around Yuri's slim shoulders.

"Beka?"

"Mm?"

"Are we dating now?" Yuri turned his head, nestling into the space where the collar of his shirt gave way to skin. He smelled of leather, like the jacket he wore.

"If you want to," came the soft reply.

Then I guess we are, Yuri thought with a smile.

At first, not much was different. It was mostly on Yuri's part that things changed. He slowly tested boundaries, finding out what he could get away with. Leaning on Otabek's shoulder when they sat together, holding on just a fraction tighter when they were on the bike, just little touches. Otabek was, as with everything, reserved in his affections, though he did steal kisses from time to time, and was quick to rest a protective hand on his boyfriend's hip whenever they encountered one of "Yuri's Angels". As predicted, news spread quickly. When Victor found out, he seemed overjoyed, though it took him mere seconds to lapse into full parent mode and lecture a horrifically humiliated Yuri on being safe. Yuuri had apologised and tugged Victor away, stating that he was sure the young Russian knew how to take care of himself. Yuri had responded by yelling at both of them for being stupidly overprotective, and vowed to never share any details of their relationship with the older couple. Otabek only smiled and promised to do right by him, prompting Yuri to irritatedly remind him that they were not, in fact, his parents. His grandpa was unsure at first, reminding Yuri gently of Otabek's age, and worrying that the older man would take advantage of him. Yuri was adamant to change his mind though, and after meeting the Kazakh, he seemed to relent with only mild threats should Otabek hurt his grandson.

And then the inevitable happened. Someone had managed to catch the pair of them on camera, and two days later a photo depicting them sat on a park bench, Otabek's arm around Yuri and Yuri pressing a kiss to his cheek, was all over social media. Responses were mixed. Many of Yuri's fans seemed heartbroken ("Wait, they actually thought they had a chance with me?"), with some even going as far as to accuse the now-famous skater couple Victor and Yuuri of 'corrupting' him. And, as Otabek predicted, the media was vilifying him for being with the younger man, questioning his intentions. It didn't seem to get to him, though. He told Yuri after a particularly nasty Otabek Altin: Hero or villain? article made the rounds that the only person he needed to prove himself to was Yuri himself, prompting Yuri to accuse him of being as disgustingly cheesy as Victor. He would never admit that the comment had made his heart skip a beat.

So what was his problem? Well, as their relationship progressed, they became more comfortable with each other. Though in public they were never anything but chaste, behind closed doors their interactions became more and more intimate. Gentle kisses turned into full-on making out, and more than once, Yuri had left his mark on the older man. And yet... every time he tried to push it further, Otabek would stop him. If he tried to slip his fingers under the Kazakh's shirt, he would feel a gentle touch on his wrist, if he tried to trail kisses down the older man's chest, he would pull him up to resume kissing his lips. Yuri wasn't brave enough to bring it up in conversation, but in the back of his mind, he was beginning to worry. What if Otabek didn't like him like that? What if he didn't find him attractive? Was he doing something wrong? So here he was, about to ask- he swallowed, feeling his pride slipping through his fingers- Yuuri Katsuki for sex advice.

"Oy! Katsudon!" He yelled. Yuuri glanced over from where he was skating a perfect arabesque, bringing his skate back to the ice so he could change direction towards Yuri.

"Oh, Yurio!" He gave him a smile and a wave, which Yuri returned with a glare. He glided to a stop against the rail where Yuri leaned. "What are you doing here? Not here to see my competition routine, are you?"

"No, idiot. I can win without cheating." He scratched at a mark on the railing, already feeling a blush start to show on his cheeks.

"Oh. Well, I'm leaving the rink in a half hour so if you can wait-"

"I'm not here to skate." He snapped. Then he huffed, not quite making eye contact. "I need advice."

"Advice?" Yuuri looked surprised, pushing dark hair out of his face. "Has something happened between you and Otabek?"

"Not- not really. Actually, that's... kind of the problem."

"Huh?" Yuuri frowned.

"Nothing's happening! I keep- I keep trying and he doesn't respond! He stops me before I can do anything!" Yuri gestured vaguely in a random direction, expressing his pent-up frustration. "It's like he's not interested in me!"

Yuuri held his confusion a moment longer, then realisation dawned on his face. "Oh. Oh." He blushed, figuring out what Yuri wanted from him.

"I can't believe I'm asking this, but how do I get him to put out?"

"Yurio, aren't you... you know, a bit young?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, I'm sixteen! I'm legal!"

"It's not about the law, Yuri." Yuuri leaned against the rail beside him. "It's about if you're ready or not." He smiled softly. "You know, it actually took Victor and I a while to-"

"Shut up!" Yuri clapped his hands over his ears. "I deliberately came to you instead of Victor so I could avoid hearing about your- that."

"Ah, sorry." Yuuri laughed, rubbing the back of his neck in a slightly embarrassed manner. "I'm just saying. You know what I was like when I first met him."

"Yeah, I do, Katsudon."

"So it's okay if you take your time. Have you tried talking to him about it."

"Tch." Yuri picked at a spot of flaking paint. "No."

"Why not? Do you feel like you can't talk to him about things?"

"No! He's- I trust him. But I don't know. How would I bring it up? It feels... just... ugh, no."

"Hmm." Yuuri regarded him. "Do you think it might be because you're nervous?"

"What? No, I'm not nervous." He looked away, considering himself. Was he? Maybe a little. Otabek was older than him. More mature. Maybe that did scare him a bit. Not enough to put him off altogether, though, right?

"I think you should think it over. Make sure it is what you actually want."

Yuri glared at him. "You're useless."

"Ah, sorry Yurio. There are some things you've gotta figure out yourself."

"Whatever." He turned to leave.

"See you around!"

"Yeah. Have fun or whatever." With that he left Yuuri to it, shoving his hands in his pockets and thinking. He found himself fidgeting with his phone in his pocket, and it didn't take long before he took it out and brought up Otabek's number.

"Yura?"

"Hey, Beka. Can I come over tonight?"

"Of course. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. I just want to see you. Is that a crime?" He said, and then berated himself for being so defensive.

"...No." Otabek sounded mildly taken aback. "Should I cook?"

"Um. Yeah. That sounds nice. I'll... I'll come see you after practice, yeah?"

"Mm. See you."

"Love you." Yuri said before he could help himself. There was a pause at the other end of the line, then a soft, "Love you too." The dial tone sounded, and Yuri put his phone

back in his pocket, trying to will away the furious blush on his face. So now what? Am I gonna confront him about it? Tonight? Fuck.

Later in the day, he made his way to the rink where Otabek practiced, signing himself in and pulling on his skates. Making his way to the ice, he caught Otabek practicing jumps, and watched as he glided through a mohawk turn into a triple flip with perfect poise, the height of the jump impressive enough to pull a gasp from the gold medallist. He noticed Yuri as he rounded the ice again, and held up a hand in greeting. A small spray of ice kicked up from the outside edge of his skate as he slid to a halt.

"Yura."

"You could have made that a quad, you know." Yuri pointed out, stepping out onto the ice to join him.

"That's the goal." The older man watched as Yuri made his way to the centre of the rink, doing a few basic moves as he did so. "Have you mastered it yet?"

Yuri didn't reply, instead speeding into a three-turn and leaping from the ice. His lack of preparation meant his form wasn't perfect, and as he landed he stepped out, but he landed it, and he smirked at the impressed look on Otabek's face. "Getting there."

"You'll have it perfected by the competition, I'm sure." He caught up with Yuri, placing one hand on his waist and taking Yuri's with his other so they moved along together for a moment.

"Do you think we should do a pair skate?" Yuri asked, somewhat out of the blue as he turned to face Otabek, their fingers laced together.

"Maybe. I've never tried pair skating before."

"Neither. I was never strong enough to do the lifts."

They skated for a while, showing off moves and just generally enjoying themselves. Having very different styles, they both found they could learn from the other, though Otabek told Yuri he didn't think he'd ever be able to get his leg above his head the way the other did. Yuri responded by doing a perfect Biellman spiral, showing off his balance and flexibility.

Eventually, they grew tired and left the ice, returning to Otabek's apartment. They ate together, Yuri having discovered that the Kazakh was actually a half decent cook, and settled down for the evening. It wasn't until then, cuddled up to Otabek on the older man's sofa that he thought about his problem again. Should he say something...? No, he didn't want to make it awkward. So instead, he pressed a kiss to Otabek's jaw, looking for attention. The Kazakh looked down at him, then caught his lips in a proper kiss. He was soft at first, but Yuri chased him, looking for passion. He grasped at Otabek's shirt, and felt the familiar threading of fingers through his hair. Wanting more contact, he moved into Otabek's lap, deepening the kiss. His hand toyed with the collar of the older man's shirt, and he could feel the line of his collarbone beneath it. A shiver went through him, and he trailed kisses down Otabek's jaw and throat, hearing the catch in his breath when he bit down, taking the time and care to leave a mark. He trailed his fingers down Otabek's chest, down to his hip. He felt his partner's shiver when he brushed bare skin, but once again, when he tried to push up the hem of Otabek's shirt, to touch him properly, he felt long fingers around his wrist, stopping him. Instead of immediately pulling his hand back though, like he usually did, he left it there, tracing the line of Otabek's hip lightly with his thumb. He paused with his kisses as well, knowing that if he didn't say anything now, his chance would have passed.

"Hey, Beka..." He murmured. "Why do you always stop me?"

Otabek was quiet for a moment. "Because I don't want you to do something you'll regret."

That made Yuri sit up, and look him in the eye. "You think I regret any of this?"

"No." The Kazakh's hand left his wrist, going instead to rest on his thigh. "I don't. But I also think you don't want to go further."

"Why not?" Yuri couldn't help the irritated edge slipping into his tone. Otabek regarded him for a second or two, his dark eyes pensive. Then he tapped lightly on his leg.

"Up." Yuri blinked in surprise, but then Otabek repeated the action, and he obeyed, climbing off. Otabek stood, and took his hand, leading him to- to-

Oh.

Was this really happening? Otabek led him to the bedroom, pushing the door shut behind him and returning to Yuri. He leaned in to kiss him again, gently guiding him backwards as he did so, until Yuri felt the backs of his knees hit the bed. He lost his balance, falling back onto it, and felt a flush on his cheeks as he looked up at his boyfriend, his heart beating a little faster than normal. Otabek climbed onto the bed above him, his body warm and heavy on top of Yuri's. They moved so Yuri's head rested on the pillows, and Otabek gave him a moment to get comfortable before kissing him again, taking his hand and guiding it back to where it had been, against his hip under his shirt. Yuri's breath hitched again, not knowing what to do now he had permission to touch. He let out a shaky breath as Otabek kissed his neck, tracing his fingers hesitantly up the line of his partner's spine. He heard the other make a soft noise of appreciation at the touch, and felt Otabek's own hand on his hip, his touch light against the V-shape of his hipbone. He shifted against the touch, suddenly insecure about how thin he was. Compared to Otabek, who he could tell had the perfectly toned musculature that most male skaters had to some degree, he felt so... delicate. Small. His heart pounded in his chest, and he had to put significant effort into breathing normally, so much so that when Otabek pushed his leg between Yuri's thighs, he audibly gasped, taken by surprise.

"Beka..." He tugged lightly on the back of Otabek's shirt, but his partner already seemed to have picked up on Yuri's train of thought, because almost as soon as he heard Yuri's gasp, he pulled back, looking down at Yuri with a softly fond expression. Yuri found himself at a loss for words as he looked up. All he could do was look, as he tried to calm his shaking nerves. Otabek brushed his hair from his face lightly.

"Are you okay?"

Yuri felt the blush across the bridge of his nose, and he scowled and looked away. "Alright. You've made your point."

"What point? I was just making out with my boyfriend." He lay beside Yuri on the bed, somehow managing to look nonchalant.

"Innocence doesn't suit you."

"It suits you." Otabek kissed his cheek lightly.

"Shut up. I'm not innocent."

"Your Agape says otherwise."

"And what if Victor had assigned me Eros? What would you think of me then?"

"Hmm." Otabek looked up, pensive. "Probably impure things."

"What, you don't do that already?" Yuri smirked at him. "I think of you."

"That doesn't surprise me." Otabek teased him. "I hope I measure up."

That made Yuri snort with laughter. "Beka, was that a pun?"