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adrinktostopyourthirst · 5 months

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Bucky Barnes | Series | Loose

Part two of the Rebellion Series

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Plot: You and Bucky have no idea whether you can trust each other. There is an understanding, but you're not sure of what that understanding is and why it seems to run so deep.

Warning: Angst, violence and fluff (?)

Words: 4,1OO

It is hard enough already for Bucky to fall asleep at night. Yes, it has gotten better in recent years, but there will always be that part of him – awake and aware – that registers every sound and movement, even when he should be knocked out. Though he wouldn’t admit it, that part of him sat more alert ever since you had joined the building. Perhaps because Bucky still wasn’t so confident in your allegiance.

He can’t stop overthinking it. He has seen what you’re capable of. Would you be capable of even more if people cornered you? If you felt like you had no other choice but to manipulate and kill your way out? After all, wasn’t it possible that you felt like you had moved from one prison to the next?

You’d been a delight at dinner two nights ago, but Bucky can’t turn off his brain. This is the part that made you win people over. The way you’d gotten along with Natasha like a house on fire, the way you’d shared stories like you and his team had been friends all along… Yet you had no trouble letting a side of yours slip through the cracks that tantalised Bucky beyond belief. The way you had looked at him, teased him–

The faintest rustle has Bucky shooting back to his current place in time. Lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. He holds his breath in an effort to hear better.

Nothing.

However, something doesn’t sit right. Something is off. He’d learned that hypervigilance was a side effect of his trauma, but he had a hard time believing his intuition would betray him like that. Not when he had relied on it so successfully for years.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” he whispers to the dark ceiling.

“Yes, sergeant Barnes?”

“Is everyone in their respectable rooms?” he tries.

“I cannot divulge that information,” the voice sounds and Bucky sighs. He musters up some strength and swings off his duvet before climbing out of bed.

Yeah, he doesn’t trust you for a second.

…

Your heart is pounding in your throat. This isn’t part of your skillset – the escape and combat. Though perhaps if you do the former correctly, you won’t have to resort to the latter. Escaping the compound had been surprisingly easy, which strangely made your chest hurt. It was way too easy to escape. But it made sense. Steve had told you that you weren’t being held captive and you being here was all in good faith.

Faith you just broke by making your escape.

You probably should have been more patient. Winning their trust a bit more and then making an escape, make sure they really don’t see it coming. But the dinner had made you antsy and impatient. You had to get out.

If you’re entirely honest with yourself, you know that getting attached to a new group of people and deciding to escape then – or worse, leading them into their demise later – would be worse than getting away now that no one has attached themselves to you. Or you to them…

Breaching the edge of the surrounding forest, you finally let go of the breath you’ve been holding. You did it. Out of sight, out of mind. You’re free. No more captivity, no more expectations. All you need to do now is leave the country, change your name and possibly dye your hair. Sounds easy enough. A bit dramatic, but not impossible.

That is, until you get dragged backwards by a hand over your mouth and you lose your footing. The hard body behind you is the only thing keeping you from tumbling to the muddy forest grounds. Your breathing is ragged as your hands both fly to grab the forearm attached to the hand covering your yelp.

The metal forearm.

“Rule number one of making your escape: never assume you’re in the clear,” Bucky’s voice rumbles through the night air, his mouth so very close to your ear. “Shouldn’t have dropped your guard when you reached the edge of the forest.”

His gloved hand removes itself from your mouth, but you know better than to make a run for it, or to scream. He twists you by your shoulders and you muster some playful guilt to your face, masking your disappointment. Disappointment… but you feel strangely relieved. Maybe the largeness of finally being free felt somewhat overwhelming. Move to another country and change your name? It’s ridiculous. And that, when the people here have been so patient and kind to you…

You let out a soft laugh, “Worth a shot, no?”

Bucky studies you intently and something in your gut stirs at it. Not even Natasha seems to have as good of a read on you as Bucky does. It makes you feel naked. Makes you feel like all of your carefully crafted plans are flimsy and no good. Makes you feel like you have to stay far, far away from Bucky. Like you need to run. Now.

And how the hell did he manage to figure out you were making your escape?

You wait for him to tell you off, preach against your indolence and call in backup to shove you into something more similar to a prison cell. But Bucky sighs, disappointed and tired.

He seems so, so tired.

“Let’s go back inside,” he says and you furrow your brows at him.

His defeat has your chest clenching tightly. You want him to punish you, scold you. At least show that he cares. Why? You’re not sure. Maybe you need to know that the relief you felt from being caught is somewhat mutual in a sense. That the people here don’t just see you as a weapon, despite the burden, but that you’re someone worth saving. Worth keeping around.

Worth healing.

“That’s it?” you ask. “No scolding or punishment?”

Bucky scoffs humourlessly. “You get a kick out of punishment, darling?”

You roll your eyes. “Seriously.”

“I’m not your fucking baby sitter,” he mutters and starts walking back to the building, rightfully assuming you’ll follow. “If you want, I can ask Steve to tell you off in the morning. He’s better at that sort of thing anyway.”

Some pathetic part of you wants to sulk at his response like an ill-tempered child. “Then why come after me?”

It stays quiet for a second as you cross the field towards the compound. “I couldn’t let a poor escape plan be successful.”

You can’t help but snort at that answer and decide that fine, you’d play along for now. But you wonder if the curious Bucky you’d seen a few days ago had completely vanished since that dinner.

…

The next morning, Bucky gets cornered by you after breakfast. He looks down his nose at your defiant face.

“You didn’t tell anyone about last night?” you ask him and he raises his brows, unimpressed.

It had surprised you that no one at breakfast mentioned anything or gave you even so much as a dirty look. Clearly, none of them are aware that you tried to make your escape last night. And you cannot for the life of you figure out why Bucky is taking it easy on you. Is he smart enough to assume that your own guilt will do more damage than he ever could? Is this part of some bigger scheme of his? Perhaps he is actually as tired and unbothered as he looked when you saw him in those woods.

“What happened last night?” he asks with a telling smirk. The current look on your face is worth the lack of sleep he had tonight. It’s too easy to rattle you. You roll your eyes and Bucky smirks even wider at that. Is he… flirting?

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” you try again.

Bucky remains quiet and fights to keep a straight face. He did expect your question, but why didn’t he tell anyone? Because he thought you and him would get along after those tiny moments during that first dinner? Because the team would have let you walk away? Because Bucky doesn’t want you to go… Because he thinks he can help. Help the world. Help you. He thinks he can help you. And you can help him. And–

“Want me to tell them now?” he says instead.

He barely notices the flash of panic in your eyes before you cover it with an annoyed scoff and turn on your heel to walk away. He watches you. Every step until you are out of sight.

“You said she trusts you,” Steve’s voice sounds from behind him and Bucky schools his face back to bland interest before he turns to Steve. “That doesn’t look like she trusts you.”

“It’s a work in progress.”

Steve frowns pensively. “Well, speed up the process. We have an important mission and we need her for it.”

“What?” Bucky almost loses his restraint, his body flaring in alarm. “Steve, she hasn’t had any training. She was locked up for months. It’s too big of a risk–”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate, Buck,” Steve tells him regretfully, but instantly notices that Bucky isn’t buying it. “This is the thing we needed her for.”

“She isn’t some kind of weapon!” Bucky exclaims and he notices Natasha turning away from her conversation in the nearest common room to see what the commotion is about. He gives her a warning look, then lowers his voice. “Steve. This could’ve been me,” Bucky breathes. And there it is. Recognition flickers in Steve’s eyes. “We can’t use her like this. She’s all alone.”

Steve looks past Bucky’s shoulder as if you’re still walking away from him. Angry frown, uptilted chin and swaying hips– Bucky almost looks. Then Steve sighs and looks back at his friend. “Take all the time you need. If she’s ready, I’ll explain the mission to her. I think she might want to help.”

…

Bucky reads over the file until his eyes turn bleary. Steve was right, you will want to help.

He thinks you can handle it, but… what if you encounter a trigger on the way? What if it all becomes too much? Bucky realises he isn’t nearly close enough to care this much, and he doesn’t, but who else but him is going to care whether you live or die? Sometimes Bucky wonders if even you care whether you live or die. What would have happened to Bucky if everyone had given up on him? He knows damn well that he’d be long dead if not so many people found him useful.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Bucky never had a choice. So he finds himself knocking at your door at 10pm with the file in hand.

After opening the door, you barely manage to get a word out before Bucky extends the folder towards you. “Steve needs your help on this. It should be fine, but the choice is up to you.”

Quick. Brief. He’s just the messenger and the decision is all yours. Bucky turns and makes to walk away – before you can spot all of the thoughts crossing his mind – but your voice stops him.

“Will you be there?”

The question takes him by surprise. Turning back towards you and slowly walking to the doorframe you’re standing under, he creases his brows together. “You need me to come along?”

You shrug abashedly. “Will you?”

Bucky studies your face intently. “Yes,” he lies. He’ll figure something out with Steve.

“What if I can’t do what you need me to do?” There it is again. He doesn’t get why this vulnerable side of you keeps surprising him so much.

“You’ll be useful,” are his terrible words of comfort. He wants to palm himself in the face.

The suppressed smile you give him heats his face and he’s sure you’ll call him out on his horrible people skills, but you stay quiet. The silence grows and grows and Bucky starts to shift nonchalantly, wondering if he should walk off and let you read the file in private.

“Okay,” you say softly.

“You’re coming?”

“Yes,” you affirm and look up at him, handing the file back. “Do you not want me to go?”

“It’s your choice,” he tells you and gently takes the folder.

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

Some wall snaps up inside of him at that tone – at that hopeful look in your eyes. “You could use the mission to make your escape,” he says with a shrug and makes to turn away from you again. “I won’t stop you this time.”

He walks away, leaving you to gape at his retreating form.

…

The mission was simple enough.

Sam, Natasha, Bucky and you would be attending a gala. Supposedly, there is a certain divide between the guests in attendance. Your job is mainly to feel out just who will be willing to join your cause. What goes unsaid is that you’re also required to butter them up to spring into action when your team would deem it necessary.

The party is in full swing and everyone is finally losing their mask of formality and enjoying their evening. You just hit the sweet spot of their susceptibility and you sweep into casual conversation about politics. Seeing who keeps quiet, who isn’t scared to speak up, whose faces harden at the prospect of change, etcetera. All of your antennas are on and when you know people have stopped paying attention to you, that’s when you dare a glance across the room where you know Bucky is standing.

All dapper and handsome, wearing a very expensive suit.

All of you have taken thorough action to look exceptional and to blend in perfectly with the high class crowd. Being charming is easy enough, looking it was a necessity – yet, all of it does still feel very far removed from yourself. Like a betrayal to the woman who was locked up mere weeks ago. However, being a true professional, you don’t allow your thoughts to linger too much and channel back to the matter at hand.

Then you feel it.

The searing heat that starts at your legs and spreads all the way up to your chest and cheeks. Like a virus burning over your skin. And you know what it is – know who it is. So you look back in the direction of Bucky, if only to catch him in the act.

But he’s unbothered. Brooding and observing from the bar in the shadow of the room, somehow alone and undiscovered by most of the crowd (a skill you assume he has acquired over the years). And his eyes are still on you. They glide down and back up for even more emphasis and you swallow away the dryness in your throat.

Gliding a sensual hand over the arm of the man next to you, you excuse yourself with a warm smile and slowly stride over to the culprit. Bucky waits patiently, and you swear you see a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as you walk over. He hands you a spare glass of champagne and turns his back to the room when you’re close enough to hear him.

“It’s working,” he says and you swear he sounds slightly impressed.

“Did you assume I’d fuck up?” you taunt and lean over the bar, sipping at the glass flute between your fingers. Bucky turns to you and his eyes sweep over the curve of your partly exposed back, the hollow of your spine and the curve of your ass. Then he holds his breath for a moment.

“Wouldn’t be mad if you did,” he tells you and his tone sounds gentle. You know that’s why he’s here, even though neither of you said it out loud, you know he’s here to stick up for you if you can’t get it done yet. If you’re not ready to be that person again.

Just like he probably knows that you’re here because the guilt of trying to escape from your saviours was eating you alive. And you didn’t want to prove Bucky right by escaping. You had glanced at the exits a few times and debated it, yes, but then looked at your team and thought against it. Looked at Bucky and–

“We’ll leave in five minutes,” Bucky murmurs as he finishes his glass. “I noted down all the people you signed as potential allies and who definitely isn’t.”

“There’s a few we can convince to help,” you cut in.

“What? The woman who runs that capitalist shitshow?” Bucky frowns. “Nah, she’s only motivated by money.”

You smile at him knowingly. “Money is a great motivator and our movement could benefit her greatly, so you just have to nudge her in the right direction.”

Bucky studies your face then and you might have found it less penetrating when he looked at your body with that stare. That intrigue. “And you already have a plan to tip her over to our side,” he concludes.

“You chose me for this for a reason, did you not?” you ask.

His eyes drop to your mouth. “I like a woman who takes her job seriously.”

You have no idea where that came from, but decide to go along with it anyway. You smirk and empty your flute, gently setting it down on the bar after. “Here I was, thinking you didn’t like anyone,” you purr and saunter off to find your other teammates and round up today’s mission.

You turn around when you hear Bucky yelling out your name, but then the room spins and debris flies everywhere. You’d cry out if the wind didn’t whoosh from your body and your ears don’t hollow out. You want to voice your discovery, as futile as it is, but the scream dies in your throat.

Someone just blew up the building.

…

It feels like there’s ash in your mouth. And throat. Your body bleats in pain, but nothing too severely. Maybe you’re in shock. Maybe you can’t feel a limb that’s no longer there. Maybe–

The room is dark except for an orange hue that travels over the ceiling and walls every few seconds. You’re slumped in a velvet chair and your fingers pluck softly at the fabric. One by one, your senses weave together and you hear the soft sounds of someone working on something. Paper ruffling, some gentle work, someone who’s trying to be quiet. You rasp in a raw breath and see a shadow at the bottom of your vision. But your body is relaxed. Or… Well, as relaxed as it can be.

There was an explosion.

“Have some water,” Bucky offers from his kneeling position between your legs and nudges his chin to the glass at the small table next to your chair. His voice is soft, raw. And when you squint at him while you blindly reach for the glass, you see soot on his face, dust on his suit.

“Are you alright?” you ask and your voice reminds you to take the drink. The water feels like heaven in your throat and you nearly gulp down the whole glass.

Bucky pauses at your question and surely he didn’t expect that to be your first question. “I’m fine,” he grumbles and focuses on the task at hand. Which, you quickly realise, is cleaning up the wound on your thigh.

Next to him, there’s a small container with small shards of glass in there and a used pair of tweezers. You feel the prickle of the wound at your thigh and observe closely as he presses some gauze to the puncture wounds. His hands are firm and steady as he wraps a bandage around your thigh to secure the gauze. His calluses scrape against your soft skin and you almost swear he takes more time than he should securing the bandage.

You heave a deep sigh and straighten up in the chair. “Natasha and Sam?”

“Natasha was sent to hunt down the ones responsible and needed an aerial patrol, so she took Sam.” Bucky clenches his jaw and you have a feeling it took some convincing to get Bucky to not go after the bastards himself, to let Natasha handle it instead. “There were deaths, lots of wounded.”

You flinch at that.

Bucky notices it. The glaze over your eyes and the tightening of your fingers into the soft fabric of the chair. He barely allows himself to hesitate and he covers your left hand with his right one, taking your fingers and stroking his thumb over your knuckles. “We got out as many as we could, no one saw the explosion coming,” he explains and hopes the information brings you some peace. He’s desperate to take that haunted look off your face, but doesn’t know how.

He gives you time then. Allows you to sort through your memories and shush them. He strokes his thumb gently and squeezes your fingers every once in a while to anchor you to here, to being safe. Your breaths go from shallow to deep as they slow. He hears your heartbeat steady and watches clarity fill your eyes again.

Fuck him. Those eyes.

“Tomorrow, we go over your list and see what we can do. Let’s get some rest for now.” He pushes to a stand and moves to remove his hand from yours, but you hold onto him.

“I’m sorry for trying to escape,” you rasp and Bucky tenses at that. He did not expect that confession. Didn’t expect an apology either – he didn’t think one was warranted.

You slowly push to a stand and Bucky’s heartbeat spikes as you wobble on your legs before you steady yourself. His eyes search your face frantically and he tries not to linger at your lips for too long. You gently stroke a hand down his arm before brushing past him in thanks, and Bucky has to take a deep breath. A flash of you doing the same thing to one of tonight’s guests comes to him and jealousy hits him, a little too viciously. Just like it did when he saw it earlier tonight.

He turns around and watches as you walk up the small bag he packed for an instance like this. You pull out some clothes and Bucky shamelessly stares while you do it. He almost sighs as the sight of that orange hue travelling over your form, most of the sleek dress still intact and definitely still doing its job of making you look good enough to eat.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” he blurts. But he stands still as he watches you freeze. You slowly turn to him and tilt your head at him curiously.

Then, a slow smirk spreads over your face and your brows raise playfully. Bucky frowns as he tries to read the expression on your face, even if the lightness of it makes him want to drop to his knees in relief. This is much, much better than that haunted look that was there mere minutes ago.

Until one of your hands lifts from the bag, a small scrap of lace dangling from your fingers. “I am never letting you pack our getaway bag again.”

Bucky matches your smirk and strides over to you, close enough that you have to tip your chin up to maintain eye contact. “You can choose not to wear it,” he shrugs and the nonchalant gesture makes your legs weak. Slowly, he starts unbuttoning his own pants and shirt, stripping himself of his clothes and tempting you to break that eye contact. “But we’re sharing a bed, so you decide what is less tempting for me to look at.”

It takes everything inside of you not to balk at this… flirtation. But it’s nice – so fucking nice to deflate that balloon of tension after a mission like the one you had tonight. To have banter and humour and perhaps a little friendship.

“I better not catch you looking at all,” you snipe, but have a hard time keeping the smile off your face.

Bucky smiles too then and gives you a wink powerful enough to set your clothes aflame. “Too bad. You can’t ask that of me and look like that.”

That does render you a bit speechless and Bucky takes his win as he strips himself to his boxers. Climbing under the sheets, Bucky’s powerful body shifts and ripples with movement.

This is going to be a long night.

#ok this is NOT worth the wait #but its here which is a HUGE win for me #i hope you like it #not me being way too impatient to write a slow burn #the upcoming smut better be good too #pls tell me what u think i have obviouslty not forgotten about you guys #<3 #rebellion series #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #writing #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes oneshot #oneshot #series

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clowningaroundmars · 3 months

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aromantic mike chilton for @aggressivelyarospec week!!!! :D

accompanying story under the cut!

It didn't work out with Julie.

They had broken up and decided it would be best to stay friends. After all, with Mike... nothing really changed at all. Like... nothing.

And that was kinda the problem.

Julie didn't think herself to be too judgmental of a person, not after everything everyone's been through. She and the Burners worked hard, played hard, and succeeded together (oftentimes against all odds).

They slept in cuddle piles after dinner some nights whenever Julie could slip away for more than a day without arousing her dad's suspicions. They passed bongs around for a lung-hacking hit or two, went skinny-dipping in the lake at night, patched up each other's bloody wounds countless times.

And then somewhere down the line, Julie fell in love with Mike.

She had no idea when exactly, since she doesn't really do feelings like that, can't afford to with a life like hers. But it happened... somehow.

Julie couldn't quite place exactly what it was that initially drew her to him, especially at first. Sure, the guy was friendly, decisive, assertive without being too overbearing, and unbearably charming. But.

It was the charm that caught poor Julie totally off-guard, really. She'd often hear her father ranting and raving about his golden-prodigal-son-turned-traitor, and his ID photo in his file wasn't really much to look at, either. Julie would never admit it out loud, but she had snuck down to Motorcity for the first time ever with low expectations.

Later, she came back up to her pod in Deluxe with stars in her eyes.

But she wasn't in love with him then, no. She knew this because she was pretty sure her constant Mike Thoughts did not manifest until after the kids all went to Antonio's together for the first time.

It was summertime, around nine months after the group was (un)officially formed. The heat had Mike shirking his jacket and leaving it in Mutt, and his old t-shirt was getting a tad bit tight after all the exercise he was getting around the hideout, especially after Texas moved his workout gear in and Mike took him up on his offer for semi-regular sparring sessions.

And boy, did that Mike fella fill out. Mhmm.

Even Julie-- a girl who was mostly blind to typical male affections directed at her in school-- had to admit to herself that when Mike put on a little more weight in the right places, when his biceps bulged a bit as he flexed an arm and his shoulders got a bit wider... it took a lot more effort to wrench her studious gaze away.

Geez Louise.

Before long, she was doodling their initials and combining both of their names in her little sketchpad. Gag. Gross.

But Mike never seemed to pay attention to her the same way in return. She didn't catch him looking away from her at inopportune times, and he'd never lay a single hand on her aside from a typical friendly pat on the shoulder, or a comfortable lean on an arm while the Burners all lounged around during movie nights. Hell, he seemed more affectionate with his best friend Chuck than he was with her most times.

So she kept her thoughts to herself. Easy peasy. She kept secrets from her dad, from her friends, and now from Mike. Like everything else, she created a neat, separate file in her head and tucked that little secret away. She managed to conceal it for long enough.

Until it became too big to ignore.

And then it happened.

And it really just... happened. Julie hardly registered herself even doing it.

It happened like this: Mike had rescued Julie from certain death at the lake after she crashed an out-of-control 9 Lives out through the barricades and into the water, and they were panting and coughing up water on the sand after Mike succeeded in dragging her out. Dutch and Texas were busy racing around and distracting the Kanebots, luring them all away from the pair.

Julie didn't say anything. Neither of them did. Julie just... surged forward when she blinked the water out of her eyes and saw him, his angelic face hovering mere inches away from hers. She remembered the dewey drops on his long lashes and the warmth of his lips more than anything else.

And then she's pretty sure she blacked out afterwards because the next thing she remembers, she's waking up on the couch wrapped in blankets and towels, wearing Chuck's hoodie.

She doesn't ask anyone why Chuck opted to be the guy to lend his clothes to her.

(It wasn't Chuck who lent it to her though.)

After Jacob makes sure she has a steaming mug of soup in her hands and is generally fussed over enough, he bids her a goodnight and leaves a big holoscreen playing old-timey anime shows for her.

Shortly afterwards, Mike slips into the room on feet far too quiet for a rowdy teenage boy like him. Julie almost misses his entry and startles when she notices him casually leaning on a wall over to her right, almost blending in against the garish grafitti and street signs.

They sat down and spoke quietly, privately.

Julie appreciated that Mike had enough tact and forethought not to confront her in front of all of the guys. Thank god. Julie wouldn't even know how to handle the endless teasing that would inevitably assault her from all angles if they ever even suspected that she had a crush on Mike.

And how embarrassing, really! The only girl on the team falling for the charming and roguish leader of a group of rebels. Double gag.

It was by some miracle that no one ever suspected Julie's true feelings, and that the actual love interest found out before anyone else did. Lucky her!

And incredibly, Mike shared her feelings too! Who would've thought it! Definitely not Julie, that's for sure.

Mike hadn't even seemed to glance her way at all in all the time they had known each other. He always maintained the same level of friendliness with her as he did with the other guys. But he confessed then that he knew Julie was special, and that their bond that grew in the time they had known each other was special, too.

Wow. Look at them, both hiding their feelings so well! It's like they were meant to be.

So they agreed to go steady.

Eventually, they told the rest of the Burners. Well, it really was just that it was kinda hard for them to ignore when Julie would sneak her index finger over to Mike's hand and hook it onto his pinkie as they walked back to their cars after a quick errand run for the Skylarks or an easy mission.

So they decided to make the announcement at Antonio's, which Julie thought was perfectly poetic. It was where she first fell in love with Mike, and now here they were a year and a half later, making it official.

They didn't expect the other guys' reactions, though. The Burners received the news... lukewarmly.

"You guys were in love?" Texas spewed bits of pizza all over the table as he chewed with his mouth open. Ugh. Typical Texas.

"Oh! Wow... uhm. Congrats, guys." Chuck seemed to hide behind his hair even more as his shoulders hiked up in a nonchalant shrug.

Dutch rubbed his chin. "...Yeah. Uh, yeah...? Cool. Congrats, you two."

And then silence fell over the table.

"Is... is there a problem with this, or?" Julie dared to press.

Everyone silently exchanged glances.

Mike-- bless his heart-- misread the situation and clasped his hands together on the table.

"Guys, look," he started, "this isn't gonna change anything about the team. We're still gonna be friends, I’m not prioritizing Julie over anyone else on missions. It's just... we're gonna... we're gonna be the Burners, except I’m dating Jules now! That's all!"

Mike smiled warmly at all his friends. Chuck chewed on his lip.

Dutch bobbed his head thoughtfully. Then, after a while, he said "nah, yeah. We figured. I mean, you're a pretty great guy so it's not like we thought you were gonna up and abandon us or anything. It's just that... uh. So when did this uhhh, yanno, this whole thing start?"

Julie blinked.

Mike cocked his head. "Start?" He asked.

"Y'know, like when did y'all start liking each other? Because uh, no offense, but this is kinda comin' out of the blue for us. Literally nobody thought this was gonna be a thing. Tell us some stories!"

Mike blew out a breath and leaned back in the booth. Julie smiled.

"Weeeellll," Julie squinted with excitement and then let the cat out of the bag.

She told them all about it, how in this very same booth she watched as Mike's t-shirt stretched over his muscles all those months ago and how his smile seemed to shine brighter than the diner's neon signs. Then about how she leaned against Mike's broad chest after agonizing for hours over not being able to free him from her father's maximum-security prison that one time. About all the dreams she'd have of them together, the intimate late-night talks they'd have while having a couple of drinks on the rooftop of some abandoned building. How she loved his bright eyes and strong hands...

When she finished, she had a dreamy kind of look all over her face. Mike had a brow quirked, but he smiled back at her all the same.

Everyone exchanged glances again.

"So Mike. Was it like that for you?" Chuck asked eventually. It had a strange sort of lilt to it, like he was in on an inside joke that Julie wasn't.

She bristled a bit.

"Oh! Uh." Mike glanced around quickly. "Not... really? But Julie's super pretty, so when she confessed to me, I was pretty stoked."

Mike grinned like a goofball. Julie grinned like a goofball. The rest of the Burners looked skeptical.

"Hm. Cool! Well, great." Chuck turned back to his loaded pizza slice.

And just like that, things mostly went back to normal.

And, uh... Mike was right, this... really wasn't changing anything between them and the Burners. Like at all.

A small part of Julie was kind of hurt by it, but she tried to wave the feeling away. It was nonsense, and she should be happy. Mike loved her! He just wasn't a romantic type, that's all. He loved his friends, loved being a Burner... it was fine.

Right?

It was normal for her to have to remind Mike every now and then to go out on a date with her. He's a busy guy, and this was his first relationship. Julie just had to be patient.

Patient... patient. Yeah. She could be patient.

It was when Chuck joined them for their sixth "movie date" in a row that the patience was starting to run a bit thin, though.

Chuck and Mike settled side-by-side on the communal couch, swapping snacks as easily as breathing and nursing a popcorn bowl between them. Mike hooked an arm over Julie's shoulder though, so Julie said nothing.

It was a couple of months later when Mike makes a quiet confession to her as they laid together in his pristine bed one night.

"I don't really like kissing all that much," he mumbles, face half-buried into his pillows. "But I like holding you. Is that okay?"

Julie's heart sinks into the covers. But she nods anyways. "Yeah. That's okay."

"Really? Do ya mean it? It's not weird or anything, right? We can still be together but not kiss. Maybe I can give you forehead kisses instead?"

Julie sighed softly. "Mmnyeah, that's fine."

"It's not you, it's me, Jules. I just--"

"Mike. Trust me, I get it. It's okay, seriously."

Mike gave her a grateful smile back.

Damnit. Well.

Anyways, life continued on. Julie resigned herself to accepting the fact that her boyfriend was just simply a guy's guy.

Julie liked cars but Mike was all over Mutt. Loved the damn thing more than he loved her, honestly. She loved being a Burner, but it seemed like it was Mike's purpose, like he was more devoted to the city under the dome than he was to his girlfriend. And above all, Mike loved the Burners. All of them. He spent a bit more time with Chuck than he did with anyone else in the team, but he was always there for everyone just as passionately.

Which was. Fine.

Freeing Motorcity from her father's reign of terror was indeed way more important than holding hands with a cute boy!

Duh, of course, stupid Julie.

Whatever.

When they inevitably broke up, it blindsided Mike. He thought they were the best of buds! The bestest of buds-- aside from him and Chuck, of course! But while he loved Chuck fiercely, his love for Julie was... different. Fierce but different. He could never describe it in words but he knew what he was feeling was real.

He loved Julie! So when she suddenly broke up with him, it was like getting hit with a sack of flour out of nowhere.

They were leaned up against Mutt's hood on a cliff overlooking Lake Erie when Julie finally broke the news. They were casually smoking a cigarette, passing it back and forth. Mike's idea of a "date." Anyways.

"I can't really keep doing this, Mike." Julie sighed out a cloud of smoke. She said it so matter-of-factly, as casually as if she were simply commenting on the weather.

Mike whipped round to look at her. "Keep doing what?"

"This," Julie threw her hands up and tucked them into her vest pockets after handing Mike the cigarette back. "This... 'relationship'. It's not working out."

"What... whaddya mean? We just started dating, it's kinda too early to tell--"

"No, Mike." Julie interrupted loudly. Her eyes were avoiding Mike's face carefully. "No... it's not. We've been together for months and we have never moved on from our friendship. You... just admit it, dude. You're just not into me."

Mike pushed himself off of Mutt and placed his hands on both of her shoulders, forcing them to stand face-to-face. "Julie, look at me." He had his jaw set.

Julie swallowed as she peered up at him from her bangs.

"I love you more than you can ever know. I know I’m messing up, but... but I’m trying, okay? Just give us one more chance, Jules. I can make it right, I know it!"

Julie took a step back, wrinkling her nose. "Mike! Just give it up, okay? I know you don't feel the same about me as I do about you," she pleaded, mortified. "It's okay! It's fine! We can just move on and let it go!"

"B-but it's not! No, Julie c'mon, bro--"

"Bro?!" Julie exploded, hands in the air now. "Are you hearing yourself right now? Am I your girlfriend, or your bro?"

Mike gaped at her like a fish, mouth opening just to close again. Then, he hunched his shoulders and shoved his hands in his pockets.

He kicked a couple of rocks off the cliff, watching the pebbles scatter and plummet dozens of feet below.

Then he ran his hands through his hair, a nervous habit of his, before returning back to Julie.

He exhaled loudly. "What... what's the difference? You... isn't that what dating is all about? Being best friends with your partner?"

Julie glared at him. "Yes! And it's also about being more than that, too!"

Mike scoffed. "More than friends? What does that even mean? Nothing is more important than friendship, Jules. Not in Motorcity."

"Nothing is more important than friendship?! Mike--" Here, Julie took a step back to pinch her nose and exhale. "Look. When I confessed my feelings to you for the first time, what were you feeling?"

"What was I feeling? Uh, I dunno, happiness I guess? What, did you want me to say that I didn't care? I care about your feelings, Julie! I do!"

"So you started dating me because you didn't want to hurt my feelings?!" Julie shouted.

"Where are you getting that from?!" Mike shouted back.

"Mike! You are just not into me! I can just tell! It's okay! W-we can just be friends, like how we used to be. I don't even know why you're fighting me so hard on this, I'm the one breaking up with you. You can't change my mind!"

"Right," Mike huffed, "because you don't love me anymore. No, I get it. It's fine."

They glared at each other for a beat.

Then, Julie shoved her hands back into her vest pockets. "No, Mike. I do love you. I just think..." she sighed, all the wind in her sails blowing away, "I just think it's best for us to go our own separate ways."

Mike startled. "Wait, what? Jules... are you...? You're not leaving the Burners, are you?"

"No, I'm not leaving the Burners." Julie says through clenched teeth. "I'm just gonna take a quick break and then when I come back? We're gonna be just friends again, Mike. Alright?"

Mike inhales deeply, his own anger trickling out of him like water as well. "... Fine. Fine, yeah. Whatever you want, Julie." He hangs his head.

They then stare off into the horizon together, watching the twinkling star-like pinpoints of light on the underside of the dome. Watching as the lake's waters undulate and shimmer in the darkness of the cool evening, a gigantic dark mirror reflecting the pinpoints back to the ceiling.

Mike idly scuffs his boot on the ground again, putting out their shared cigarette. In a sad sort of way, the dying ember of the smoldering stick being stomped out into rocks and gravel was a lot like their relationship: dead and done. And of course it had to be Mike to put them both out, huh. Right.

Real poetic.

Julie turns around wordlessly, climbs into Mutt and sits in Chuck's seat.

Time to go.

After a few seconds Mike nods once, fixes his collar and slides into his own seat.

The ride back up to Deluxe is quiet.

Except this time, it had been a long while since they had the time to relax like this. These days, Kane's attacks were getting more and more savage, brutal... and cunning.

It was a couple years later when the kids were a bit older --but not that much older at the same time-- that they all filed past the doors of Antonio's and slid right into their usual booth.

Kane's latest attempt at a hostile takeover of Motorcity involved way too many sneaky double-crossing spies all trying to break the Burners up and weaken the city's best defense. Sneaky bastard, that Abraham Kane.

But they thwarted him yet again, despite it all. They beat the bad guys, restored peace back amongst the gangs and the civilians, and saved the day.

It had taken weeks this time, but they succeeded.

So now to celebrate, they're placing their orders for the greasiest, most heart-clogging fast food on the menu and sitting back to happily sip at their drinks. They're finally enjoying their time together again, and Mike is especially pleased that everyone made it out alive.

Sitting elbow-to-elbow with his bestest friends in the world, Mike takes advantage of a lull in the conversation to clap his hands together and get everyone's attention.

"Okay, guys!" He announces. "So, I'm pretty sure we're all kinda fried after... y'know, everything. Everyone's probably too tired to care about what I'm going to say next! So... confession time."

"Hmhmm! Spill, then," Chuck smirks, his chin in his cyborg hand. It was a recent upgrade to his prosthetic, and it shone a beautiful silvery-blue under the diner lights.

Mike chuckles nervously. "Uh, I... I think that... I figured out that I can't fall in love!"

Everyone stares at him.

Chuck casually slurps his milkshake through a straw.

Dutch turns to him then. "Wait. You knew?"

Chuck sits up. "Uhh hahaha, whoa. Where'd that come from? You psychic or somethin'?" He deflects awkwardly.

"You're clearly not surprised," Dutch points out.

"Pfft yeah I'm not surprised. Who's been Mike's best friend since, like, kindergarten again?"

"Ah. And ya didn't think to let me know anything back when we were dating? Sure would've saved us a lot of time," Julie quipped drily.

Chuck holds his mismatched hands up. "Now hold on a minute! I didn't know back then, obviously. Besides, you two dated years ago for like... three seconds!"

"Two years ago, smartass," Julie snips back.

Mike clears his throat conspicuously. "Guys! Guys, no need to fight over me," he jokes awkwardly, "because I, uhm, I've decided I don't belong to anybody! I'm just me, and I'm not dating anyone. Like, ever."

Everyone turns back to him again.

With four pairs of eyes on him, Mike draws in on himself a bit as he continues. "Yeah, it's. It's something that I've been kinda discovering about myself and I'm still... exploring it. But I'm pretty sure I've never had a crush in my life. I was just walking through life distracted by everything else for so long that I never noticed it, but... yeah. I've just. I've just never felt love for anyone else before, I guess."

"Which is fine," Chuck blurts out suddenly. "It's... it's fine! That Mike's never fallen in love with anyone. It happens. Some people just don't experience a common thing most people do... like romance, or sex. Yeah! Totally normal!"

Dutch smirks at Chuck. "You too, then? You a non-romantic as well?"

Chuck shakes his head so hard his bangs swing. "No! Nuh uh, I'm a lover, not a fighter. I'm definitely a romantic!"

"Why so nervous all of a sudden, then?"

"Because," Chuck replies, "because... it's fine! To not ever fall in love or like... date, or kiss or have sex or whatever. We're in Motorcity now, and we can get to do whatever we want. And if we don't wanna date, then we don't have to!" Then he clamps his mouth shut.

Mike perks up then. "That's right! And ah, yeah! Speaking of, Chuckles... lemme tell ya, I really gotta hand it to ya. If it weren't for you, I'd've never figured this one out. So, thanks, buddy! As always, you really had my back on this one."

Chuck and Mike smile at each other and Texas raises a brow.

"Huh?" Texas says. "What's that s'posed to mean?"

Chuck titters nervously as Mike pulls up a screen and opens up a forum.

"It means that Chuckles here helped me find a site that explained everything I was experiencing! Or... not experiencing, really."

Chuck clears his throat, clearly relieved. "Uh, yeah! Well, after Mike's like, 10th girlfriend that one time he couldn't stop bringing people back home, he came to me all frustrated and stuff and... well, we went off to find my friends in the LARPing arena to see if anyone had any idea why he was burning through dates like Mutt burns through tires. And so someone suggested he might be aromantic, and uh... well, the rest is history!"

Dutch and Julie hummed in acknowledgement.

Everyone knew what that was like, how weird it was that Golden Child Mike all of sudden started bringing people home from parties and bars shortly after his breakup with Julie. Sometimes he even had two people on his arms, some men, some women. Never the same person after two or three times, though.

They were all perplexed when they first heard laughing and chattering behind Mike's bedroom door. Once the moaning started, though... well! Everyone poked fun at him the mornings after and teased him to varying degrees, but things were mostly chill in the beginning.

Everyone remembered Mike's frustrations after a while, though. How he could never quite land a steady relationship-- no matter how hard he tried, with whoever. It got to the point where the Burners stopped their teasing and became quite concerned after Mike introduced his 5th girlfriend in the span of like... 6 months, once upon a time.

It was shortly after his final breakup that Mike flopped down onto his best friend's messy bed one evening and finally had The Conversation.

It went well, all things considered. Chuck, patient as ever, listened to his friend and then when he couldn't offer any solid advice, he offered a distraction. The LARPing arena proved to be much better help than they could ever hope for.

Ever since then, Mike's been up late into the night often, completely engrossed in all things aromantic. He wanted to learn more about it, yearned for a community that knew exactly what he was feeling; so he stayed awake just swiping through sites and PDFs on his holoscreens, eating every bit of information up.

Now, it looked like Mike was at peace with himself and his station in life after all this time. That was a relief!

"Aromantic! That's it! Look at this, guys." Here, Mike grins and pulls up a photo of a striped flag. "This is the community flag. Look familiar?"

The colors of the flag had two shades of green at the top that then cascaded into white, then grey and then black.

Texas leaned forward. "It looks like Mutt!" He practically shouts.

Everyone laughs.

"Yeah, that sure is a you flag if I've ever seen one," Julie quips.

"Right? Like it was meant to be! So I guess I'm part of this community, then. I mean, this really is a kickass flag..."

"But what does that mean, though? That you can never fall in love with anyone, ever?" Julie asks.

Mike closes his screens and clasps his hands on the table, exhaling a bit. "Uhh, well? Well, yeah! I can't ever fall in love... but it doesn't feel that way to me! Ugh, I'm probably gonna do such a bad job explaining this," he laughs self-consciously.

"It's okay, dude. Take your time," Dutch smiles warmly.

Mike shoots him a grateful smile back. "... It... it's like. Well? It's like... I've never felt butterflies in my stomach before, so I have no idea what that's like. But I like you guys, a lot. Like a lot, a lot. I love hanging out with you all even though I don't think about any of you guys like that. I love making friends-- like true friends-- and I can't stop thinking about how happy hanging out with people makes me. I guess I'm just way more platonic than romantic, because I am just... so bad at love! God, I've never had so much trouble with anything in my life before like I have with romance," he groans, grimacing.

"And when Mike Fucking Chilton says that, that's how you know he's struggling!" Dutch puts in.

Everyone giggles.

"Wow," Julie gives Mike a side-long glance. "Finally. Something that The Great Mike Chilton is bad at! We've finally got him, boys."

Texas leaps out of his seat and enthusiastically karate-chops the air. "Hoo-WAH!!! Finally! Something I got over on ya, Mike. Texas is better at romancing than you!"

Julie rolls her eyes.

Mike guffaws. "Psshhwhat? C'mon guys, I'm bad at plenty of stuff. This isn't the first!"

"Oh yeah? Name one thing!" Dutch challenges.

"Uhhm well uh, I...? I'm pretty bad at... hm." Mike drums his fingers on the table. "I'm bad at coding! I'm not nearly as good as Chuck at the software and tech side of things!"

"But ya could be! You could totally learn how to, if you'd just sit down with me for more than 20 minutes," Chuck points out.

Mike stubbornly folds his arms across his chest. "Well, I don't wanna! What're you gonna do about it?"

And just like that, the kids all return back to normalcy, bickering and quibbling about nothing as they finally receive their food from the waitress. Soon after, Chuck and Texas are throwing pizza toppings and wadded up paper at each other and Mike is mom-ing at them to quit it before they all get kicked out.

It was as if nothing even happened.

It was simultaneously comforting and also thrilling how easily Mike was accepted back into the fold; the Burners' Heartless Leader who could never fall in love.

On the inside, Mike was deeply grateful and his heart felt full upon learning this, though. It was a nourishing feeling that his bestest friends in the whole world who worked hard, played hard, lived fast and free alongside him... they loved him and accepted him back, no matter what. It was a much nicer and fuzzier feeling than any romance-filled relationship or hookup ever gave him.

Now, the Burners are finally leaving the diner, all tipsy and giddy from their impromptu late-night happy hour session.

Mike has a casual arm slung over Chuck's shoulder as they traipse on over to Mutt. Everyone casually daps each other up and offers quick goodbyes before climbing into their respective cars.

Mike slides behind the wheel and exhales. Chuck clicks himself into his secure harness.

"Well! That went pretty well! A little too easily, honestly but," Mike breathes.

Chuck's blonde head bobs. "Well yeah, dude. Of course. What'd ya think, that'd we kick you out of the team for that?"

Mike shrugs and turns his skeleton key into Mutt's ignition, bringing her to roar awake again. "I mean... no. But, y'know. It's weird, having a leader of a gang that can't ever fall in love, right? Like some heartless freak or somethin'. I dunno," he chuckled wryly.

Chuck frowns. "Mike. You're not a freak," he says firmly.

Mike gives his best friend a sidelong glance. "Chuck..." he speaks, voice low, "it's not like that! You know what I mean... it's just that sometimes people who are different don't get treated so well all the time, yanno?"

"Yeah, sure, back up in Deluxe," Chuck argues. "But it's different down here in Motorcity. It's good here for people like us!"

Mike hums thoughtfully as he drums his fingers on the wheel. "Yeah, you're right..." then, he smirks at Chuck. "So if that's true, then why didn't you come out, back there? I actually thought you were gonna do it. It even looked like Dutch suspected something, too!"

Mike smiles at his friend, who is doing his best impression of a carseat cover now.

"Mmnyeah... yeah, I could've." Chuck gives a noncommittal shrug, hesitating.

"What's wrong?"

After a few seconds, Chuck swipes at his bangs self-consciously and clears his throat. "Uhmm well... being aromantic and never falling in love is kinda... badass, don'tcha think? But for a guy like me, never wanting to have sex and being a dope for romance is just pathetic," he laments. "If people hear that I'm asexual and that I never want to bang anyone, I'd get laughed out of the room! It's not an asexual thing, Mikey, it's a me thing."

Mike throws Mutt into reverse and backs her out of their parking spot with practiced ease.

"Chuckles. My guy. Look, who cares what other people think? If you don't wanna bone, you're just not gonna. That doesn't hurt anyone at all, so screw anyone who says anything about it. If anyone gives you a hard time, call me up and I'll spin the block for you,"

Chuck bursts into a peal of nervous giggles. "Whoa, whoa Mikey, geez! Christ, thanks, man but that's really not necessary. I appreciate you, though,"

They smile at each other again.

Then after a beat, Mike adds, "plus, if they know about aromanticism, they're gonna eventually find out about asexuality, too, dude."

Chuck laughs weakly as he clutches his arms. "O-oh...! Yeah... yeah that's tr--"

Mike suddenly slams his boot down on the gas pedal and Mutt growls as she lurches into hundred-mile-speeds from a standstill. Her tires screech loudly on the pavement and she leaves a giant plume of smoke and dirt behind as everyone careens over a drop straight onto the Deluxian Supply Pipes.

"Miiikkee-eeyyyy!!! We just ate!" Chuck screeches, horrified. He clings onto the car seat with both hands as Mike laughs.

Chuck's screams and Mike's loud, joyous shouting and whooping can be heard far and wide throughout Motorcity as they race all the way back home.

#mine #aggressivelyarospecweek #motorcity #mike chilton #aromantic #aro #hope ppl enjoy my arospec week offerings!#i had fun writing the burners again after so much time. my kiddos 🥺#i luv them <3 #julie heals just fine after their breakup btw she's with her own childhood friend claire lezzing it up so everyone wins in the end 🫶#dont worry abt it LOL #if it sounds a bit allo-centric its bc it is. i tried to replicate the Motorcity Writers Voice when i wrote this down #i was like “hmm. how WOULD a non-arospec person write this topic for a kids show abt racing cars? 🤔”#“i think i know! :)”#so @ other motorcitizens pls let me know if i did Good or Bad #in that way it was a p fun writing excercise. also. i love julie so i wanted readers to feel bad for the poor lil meow meow #we are Julie Stans in this home. i didnt stick her into a failing teen relationship bc i hate her 🤧#she just had to be the First Target bc the show tries to set mike and julie up subtly in canon and my aro brain went “goddamn it.”#so #uh yeah #anyways im rambling #hope u enjoyed byyyyyyyeeeee :3

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