#if i simply. knew the basics. anyway im fighting for my life with this ao3 custom skin

[old-knightsvow]

losing my mind

[29-pieces]

Whumptober day 6 - The Musketeers

Day 6: No More Fandom/Setting: The Musketeers, pre-series (new recruit!Athos) read on AO3 read on FF.net

~*~

Athos could smell the blood as he pushed into the tiny cell ahead of the other musketeer, a burly brawler named Porthos. It boded poorly for the man they'd been sent to find. Though the careful blankness of his expression never shifted, Athos couldn't help but pause as he took in the sight of the prisoner.

Porthos, in contrast, shoved past him with a cry.

"Aramis! Aramis... God, don' be dead, please don' be dead..."

Athos raised a hand to his mouth and forced himself to remain calm and in control. He'd only worked closely with Aramis once, long enough to know the man as a perpetually cheerful if somewhat roguish lover of life, the constant center of attention, ready with a quip or a fight depending on the situation. Athos had few, if any, friends; he could have seen himself befriending this one. It didn't seem he would have the opportunity now.

"Help me cut 'im down," Porthos snapped, drawing Athos back to the present moment. "We gotta stop the bleeding. Stitch 'im up, maybe. Something."

Biting back his fear that it was too late for Aramis, Athos nevertheless moved in swiftly to help Porthos, supporting Aramis's weight as the taller musketeer drew a dagger to slice through the rope holding Aramis's arms high overhead. Athos moved to set him carefully on the floor, but Porthos scooped him up instead.

"Not in here," Porthos bit out. "Outside. I've got him, just keep our path clear."

Again, Athos bit back any remark. He had the impression that the two were close, and since he himself knew the feeling of finding a beloved brother already dead, he also knew there were no words of comfort to be had. Though they had already dispatched all of the guards, Athos nevertheless drew his sword again and led the way from the dungeons and out of the castle. None of the household staff dared show themselves and the Comte himself had yet to be seen. This, Athos knew, was not good. Soon there would be awkward questions they would have to consider.

After all, Aramis had been meeting with a Spanish spy, and the castle was a mere handful of miles to the border. The identity of a traitor and spy was valuable information. And Aramis, though a musketeer with an obviously loyal heart, had to have a breaking point like any other man.

"Where's his horse?" Porthos grunted once they'd reached the sweeping lawn out back where they had left their mounts. Aramis's had been found wandering on its own, though Athos gave Porthos an incredulous stare. Clearly Aramis wasn't riding anywhere, unless it was in the back of a cart headed for a cemetery. Perhaps Porthos read this on his face, because he snarled, "His horse, damn it! I need his bag! An' we need water, somethin' to wash these cuts out!"

"Porthos..."

"He's alive. I, uh... I ain't ever stitched anyone up before. You?"

Athos regarded the bloody mess of a musketeer that Porthos laid carefully down on the ground. "Once or twice. But-"

"Good. He's got a medical kit he keeps in th' saddlebags, dig that out. I'll get the water."

Athos watched him lumber off. He still had his doubts, but he had to admit, Porthos's ferocious faith that Aramis would still make it out of this urged him to try anyway. Rifling through the spare horse's saddlebags, Athos retrieved a leather pouch which he unrolled to reveal some of the more basic medical instruments. Also in the bag was a swath of bandages and clean rags, which he likewise retrieved. Kneeling over the unconscious musketeer, Athos looked him over helplessly, not sure where to even begin. It looked like mostly cuts and gashes from a blade, deep and nasty, and almost all would require sutures. He saw at least one burn and three broken fingers. Aramis's left shoulder was clearly dislocated.

Getting his doublet off would be a good start, but would jostle the arm too much. Athos regarded the limb, then took Aramis's arm.

"Apologies," he murmured to the unconscious musketeer, before swiftly pulling until he heard the pop of a bone returning to socket.

Aramis's eyes flew open as a garbled cry was ripped from his throat. The musketeer immediately began to thrash back from Athos, arms flailing in an attempt to protect himself. Athos grabbed Aramis's wrists in fear that the musketeer would only cause more damage to himself.

"Aramis," he called. "You're safe. It's me... Athos."

"Aramis?" Porthos had returned, carrying a bucket of water he'd procured, some of which sloshed out over the downed musketeer as Porthos flung himself by his friend's side. "Hey... hey, you're with me, you're alright."

Aramis sank back down, staring up at them through pain-glazed eyes. "Porthos," he whispered.

"Yeah, it's me. We're gonna fix you right up, okay?"

Aramis nodded, then his head drifted back to the side, eyes falling closed. Athos traded a look with Porthos over his still form, but neither spoke. Together, they worked Aramis's doublet off—it would need a myriad of repairs as well, if he survived to wear it again—and surveyed the mess. Athos retrieved the needle and thread from the medic pouch as Porthos started washing the blood away.

"Damn, he's lost a lot of it," Porthos growled. "When I get my hands on that Comte..."

"There isn't time for that," Athos reminded him as he pinched one freshly cleaned gouge together and set the needle to skin in determination. "I can sew these wounds, but we should consider the possibility that Treville needs to be warned."

Porthos stopped what he was doing to stare at him. "Warned about what?"

He really didn't want to be the one to acknowledge the risk, but if Porthos didn't then he would. "What cause would there be to torture him like this if not for the name of the spy he was sent to meet? The Comte must have learned about his mission somehow-"

"An' you think Aramis told him?"

There was a dangerous rumble in Porthos's voice, so Athos offered a deferential shrug. "I'm only saying, no one can be expected to hold out forever, no matter how loyal, and this- Porthos, they spent a lot of time on him."

"I know yer new here," Porthos seethed, jaw clenching. "An' you don't know Aramis like I do. He didn't give 'em anything. Got it?"

Torn between admiration of the loyalty and exasperation at the frank denial, Athos only nodded and went back to sewing Aramis up. He couldn't tell if Aramis was awake or not, breaths shuddering and lids closed, but if he was awake he didn't make a sound. It took what must have been hours, until Athos's hand was starting to cramp from holding the needle, back aching as he stitched as well as he could. Doubtless these would leave visible scars—he had only a rudimentary idea of how to do this, nothing fancy. But at least Aramis wouldn't bleed out from them. This done, Athos splinted the broken fingers together to be looked at when they returned to Paris and simply put a bandage over the burn, as there was no healing ointment on hand.

"What else?" he asked in exhaustion, starting to roll Aramis back onto his side to check for further injury.

The movement jostled the tortured musketeer, who inhaled sharply with a pained cough.

"No more..."

"Aramis," Porthos murmured, sounding pained himself. "I know it hurts, but we gotta make sure there's nothin' open for infection, right?"

Eyes still closed, Aramis nodded. "No more," he repeated, a little stronger.

Athos felt his shoulders grow heavy and he shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said, a rare slip of emotion and regret coloring his tone. "I believe we're almost done and then you can-"

"No... there's no more," Aramis cut him off, opening his eyes with a wince. "You got them all. I c-counted. That's all they ever managed to do."

Athos stared at him. "...That's... all?" he echoed in disbelief. There had been enough blood to drown a village in that cell, yards of thread needed to finish all the stitches, but that was "all" they'd done to him? He saw Porthos barely bite back a smirk, but in this case Athos would be more than happy to have been proven wrong.

"What did they want?" the burly musketeer asked his friend now, cupping the back of his neck carefully.

Aramis coughed. "Wanted to know who I was meeting. I don't know how word got out."

Athos traded a look with Porthos. "And...?"

"And nothing. They thought they could convince me to tell them." He snorted. "Amateurs."

Porthos laughed, relief and fondness evident in the gentle squeeze of Aramis's good shoulder. "Good thing we found you, then," he said gleefully. "Before they died of embarrassment."

"Good thing," Aramis agreed. "Was s-starting to get bored." Nevertheless, his eyes were still pained as he gripped both of their arms and didn't try to move. "Thank you."

Athos found himself smiling, not something he often did. These were men he could get used to being around, he decided. "Let's not make a repeat of this though, alright?" he dryly suggested, to be met with a tired chuckle from Aramis.

"No," the musketeer agreed, closing his eyes. "No, no more."

[oh-theatre]

Objection!: Chapter 20

Chapter title: To Thine Own Self

A/n:  TALK ABOUT A BAD CHAPTER AM I RIGHT FELLAS...EYYYYYY. Anyway its Virgils birthday so i wanted to get this chapter out earlier!! Because my boi!! its his birthday!! Im love him!! Im very sorry to how bad this chapter is, its funny cause it basically contains nothing of substance. All I know is that Virgil is a flirty man, anyway enjoy some trash!!

First | Previous | Next

words: 3221

summary: Its Virgils birthday!

pairings: Eventual logicality, prinxiety, platonic demus, romantic remile

warnings: Murder mention, child murder, Law and Courtroom, swearing, blood, hospital, crime scene,  murder, gun mention, guns, swearing, abuse, graphic descriptions, alcohol, blood mention

Ao3 Link  

“Lo?” Patton shakes the lawyer softly, his coat tickling his face softly. Logan startles awake, his glasses falling carefully upon his lopsided face.

“E! Equals Mc scared!” He exclaims, Virgil groans from across the room toppling over to where Remy snores. “What time is it” Logan murmurs, sitting up as he adjusts his glasses. The knot tightens as Patton watched Logan adapt to the morning. His face flustered as the lawyer looked his way. “Oh, good morning Patton” Logan greets.

“Hi” He barely squeaks, he shakes himself out before extending his hand to Logan. Once their fingers connect, a quick warmth spreads over them, their bubble returns locking them safely away from the world. Soon Remy snores himself awake, pop! Patton watches as the bubble crumbles around them. “W-what happened here?” He questions, turning away from Logan.

“The case!” Virgil remembers “Patton! We have something to show you!” He rushes, swiftly taking Patton's hand unbeknownst to the quiet panic that flows over Patton. The relief when Virgil releases him is almost too much, its silly he knows but its a reflex. “Ok, we stayed up all night working on this” He shows Patton the board

“It was all a lie?” Patton reads, his soft eyes tracing the plethora of evidence. “What does that mean?” He inquires, the others turn to each other not sure how to respond. “You all need sleep” Patton decides, he adjusts his scarf making his way towards the door.

“Pat, come on” Logan begs, the lawyer turns cocking his head. “This has to mean something, I believe you ok?” Logan states Patton swallows. “George is innocent”

You'd think after months of fighting tooth and nail, Patton would gleam at those words. But as his eyes fell upon Logans, his entire body felt exhausted, defeated from the battle. Should he never emerge victorious he had already lost, lost something so special, nothing else compared.

“Maybe, but it doesn't matter now” Patton laments “Nothing we can do” He watches the board, a heavyweight places itself upon his chest. Pushing deeply as it constricts his every movement. He sees the others want to say more, after all, they had spent all night, sloppily theorizing. However, the doors opened as two small pairs of feet ran towards him.

“Papa!” Valerie cries jumping into her father's arms. Patton embraces her freely, preparing as Remus joins him, allowing himself to sit in Patton's other arm. After a brief shriek of laughter and moment of kisses, Patton smiles at Emile.

“Thank you so much for taking them last night” Patton gestures, wanting to never let this moment end. The dream he’d held for so long, sometimes he wondered how it ever became a reality. How he, out of all people, was blessed with children.

“Liam?” Patton calls listening as the door squeaked open, a piercing yet familiar sound. After a pause with no response, the lawyer stood from his desk, feeling lightheaded during this dark hour. He pushes through the house, stumbling blindly, a quick fear as rustles happen. He shakes his head allowing a quick smile to spread across his face. “Nothing to fear, I'm safe” He lies

“Cupcake?” A voice from out of the empty dark calls out, Patton really hated the nickname. Oh, how selfish that was. A sweet nickname, a sweet person and Patton hated it.

“Over here” He replies, his hands searching the wall finally reaching the lights. Allowing them to flicker awake. “Hi” He smiles softly, Liam grunts practically tripping over himself as he reaches the couch. Patton leans over, kissing his forehead carefully, adjusting his partner's hair.

“Beer” Liam requests, paying no mind to the kind gesture Patton performs. He could smell the alcohol practically wafting off of Liam, but it was late and he didn't have the energy to...run if need be. Once he returns with his opener, he sits. “What?” Liam mutters as Patton watches him expectantly.

“I was wondering if you had any more time to think...about what I asked you?” Patton began slow, making sure to keep his words simple. Liam huffs, rolling his tired eyes.

“You think you can raise children?” Liam mocks, Patton looks to the window, something comforting about the way the stars twinkled. It reminded him of someone, he couldn't pin it. He smiles again, a facade arises.

“I do, and I think you can too” Patton hopes, more convincing himself really.

“Then you are a fool and really naive if you think that pursuing this is a good thing” Liam finishes, the beer emptied before Patton can process his words. He tumbles as he makes his way mumbling angry to the room. A practically shattered Patton remains, the softest of tears fall from his eyes.

“Patton?” Logan waves gently in front of his face. The lawyer blinks before the lights come back on behind his eyes. He shakes slightly adjusting to his surroundings, shooting a quick look to his children.

“Sorry, must've spaced out!” He smiles shaky, nervous laughter practically pouring from him. “I'm really sorry but I have to go” he announces, the twin's yawn, leaning safely into their father. They loved Emile, they loved all of their dad's friends, but no place, no home, no person would ever feel as safe as Patton. Before he goes, Patton spins on his heel to face Virgil. “Hey, don't forget, my house this Thursday, birthday dinner” He reminds, Virgil bites down a smirk but nods

“You know it” He nods, almost excited at the prospect of some normalcy to return to his life. For almost the entire time he and Patton knew one another, Virgil would spend his birthday evenings at Patton's house. The lawyer would cook an extravagant meal full of the detectives' favorite foods, he would give him gifts and shower him with praises. It didn't change once the kids arrived, it simply improved. No matter what happened during the day, that was set. Breakfast with Roman, lunch with Logan perhaps. A quick ‘Happy Birthday Virge’ from either sure, but Patton's house, seven pm sharp? That was set in stone, and should they grow old, and expand their families far and wide. Virgil knew...it would always be like that.  

~~~

“And...done!” Roman cheers to himself, the rough tips of his fingers simply begging for a break. He marvels at his creation, nodding satisfied as he places the gift delicately in his drawer. Making sure its kept safe and hidden until Thursday.

“Judge Reial?” A rasped knock at the door beckons Roman's attention. His gaze falls upon a man waiting at his arch. He stands smiling as the man approaches. “I'm judge James McCoy” He greets, shaking his extended hand. A firm yet soft touch, a quick shiver as they part both sitting once more. “It's an honor to meet you” James admits, Roman feels his face arise. The heat spreading quickly, surely this was a joke?

“Likewise?” He tries, James chuckles. A deep boom, so smooth it moved across Roman pleasantly.

“Apologies, I just transferred here. I've read about your work...I mean you're incredible in court.” Roman had to wonder if he had the wrong person, he was just...himself. “I was requested to come here for a case, then I was offered a job and I wasn't going to miss the opportunity to work with you” He gushes, Romans blush only grows.

“That's so sweet thank you” Roman finds his bearings, a coy smile upon his face. “I mean, I get it all the time” He jokes, mission successful as yet another smile and laugh falls from James’s mouth. “Surely you didn't just move out here for me?”

“Don't flatter yourself” James teases, a smirk upon his face. Roman bites his lip stifling a laugh. “No I mean, I was iffy about taking the job but then my partner….he broke up with me so...new start ya know?” James explains, a raw honesty to his words. Roman nods, trying not to get excited at the developments as they unfold.

“Would you like to have lunch?” Roman blurts, a new sparkle in his eyes. James purses his lips “Thought we could maybe get to know each other” He proposes, Jame wants to hide his smile but his lips have their own mind.

“I'd love nothing more” James agrees, he collects his things at the ring of his phone standing as he goes. “It has been an absolute pleasure” He extends his hand once more, once again tickling Roman with possibility. “Lunch” He finalizes

“Lunch” Roman swoons, his back melting into the chair once more. He can feel his feet tap below him, dancing as the ideas sing throughout his mind.

“Hey Ro” Patton smiles through the door, Roman ushers him in. “You look giddy, what's up?” An uncertain expression befalls the lawyer, Roman shrugs into a shimmy.

“I just met someone” Roman marvels, realizing just how weird his insides felt. It felt like he had reverted ten years, a shiny new judge, he was dumb and easy to trick. He tripped over himself to be seen, and now here he was. People wanted to meet him, to see him. And for what? He wasn't some here, he wasn't this outstanding citizen. He sent people to jail, to spend the rest of their lives suffering.

“Bad people Ro” Virgil would take his hand, their words in whispers as Damian snuggled against them snoring softly. Roman wouldn't dare meet his eyes, fear of falling apart under their caring honesty. They weren't pools of dark mystery, they were swirling clouds of determination and ambition. Virgil's eyes radiated all he conquered, Roman loved them.

“What if they weren't bad? What if I made a mistake” He fears, the words only rising in panic. Virgil cups his face, his gentle hands tracing Romans almost perfect features. “What if I'm just like...him?” Roman dreads even the idea, but he knew it was always there. Forcing its way through the blockade. Virgil leans forward, taking Roman's lips on his own, knowing full well the judge would melt into the gesture. That for just this moment he would feel loved.

“You're not your father Roman, you never will be” Virgil assures, digging the point as far as he can. “Just this conversation, your concerns now, prove that. You care” He identifies, Roman wants to cry, but because for once in his life, he believes that maybe just maybe he really isn't. That all of his efforts and work, paid off. He is not his father.

Roman should feel sad, he misses Virgil so much. His stomach tug as even the slightest thing causes him to reminisce. But he's not, he loves Damian and he...cares for Virgil. Knowing that he's safe means the world. And something just cleared for him when Virgil uttered the words. As though he finally understood. He was...almost free. Should Virgil ever want to pursue him again or not, Roman would…

“Be ok” Roman mumbles, Patton stops his rocking of the stroller, the twins remain sleeping. “I'll be ok” He gleams. Patton forces a smile, nodding proudly of his friend. I wonder what that's like.

“That's good Ro, I'm proud of you” Patton squeezes his hand, his gaze returning to his source of joy. The twins sprawled across the stroller, sleeping carefully, cuddled with their respective stuffed toys.

“I...have a date!” He tilts his head, uneasy smile “Kind of?” He questions, Patton laughs.

“Oh?” He wonders, biting his lips as Virgil's name appears in his head.

“He's a judge, he just transferred here, he's cute and we are having lunch together” Roman finishes, drumming the desk lightly. “Guess too fast is my middle name!” He jokes, Patton swallows as his own words trail his mind, the crushing look Logan gave him replaying like an old station.

“Light and breezy” Patton nods slowly.

“Light and breezy!” Roman sings, feeling genuine, deep-rooted happiness. Unaware of the fragile demeanor of the lawyer across from him, as his world threatens to crumble, the regrets of everything he's ever done in his mind. The desperation as his heart aches to him, calling out to Logan, the phrase ‘miss so much’ we an understatement. He yearned for something he left of his own will, what an absolute...idiot he was.

Don't get emotional Patton

~~~

“I will be there soon Pat...yeah I love you too” Virgil chuckles, stuffing the phone into his pocket as he pushes through the door into the precinct. The still quiet of the building causing unease in the detective so used to the bustling bounces of the room. He turns into the room fully expecting to have the frozen solitude to himself, alas as the lights flicker on he releases a soft gasp. “Roman?” He whispers. The judge stands idle by Virgil's desk, a small amber box alight in his hands.

“Hey” He smiles, the exhaustion under his eyes visible.

“What are you...what are you doing here?” Virgil questions, their voices remain ever so soft.

“Happy birthday” He rushes, skipping a few steps. Virgil's eyes widen as he nods, taking a step forward. Roman looks enchanting under the dim lights, his aura blazing passion.

“You remembered?” He's not sure why he questions it every time, Roman has never forgotten his birthday. He's never had a reason to assume someone, especially his friends would forget, and yet he lives in fear.

“Of course” Roman laughs so sweetly, it barely makes a sound “December nineteenth, you were born at exactly six forty four pm. You didn't cry at first so your mom was pretty worried, but it turns out you were just a little shy” He chuckles, neither understand why there are tears making their way down the men's cheeks. “You were a pretty light baby. Your favorite birthday was your sixteenth when your mom took you to a concert for the first time, but your sixth comes pretty close after you got to tag along with your dad on a case” Roman recites, the absolute adoration flooding his eyes. “You always spend your evenings with Patton, no matter what.” Roman moves closer, allowing the distance between them to circulate warmth.

“What are you doing?” Virgil hopes, maybe a little too much that he gets closer.

“I have a gift…” Roman's eyes move towards Virgil's lips “For you” He states, carefully he lifts it placing it in the detective's palm. “I know its small but uh...happy birthday Virge,” He says, overwhelming conviction. Virgil carefully undoes the ribbon, the paper falling with it. Virgil sucks in, his breath falling short. A small cloud, with lighting coming out of it, sits at the bottom of the box. “It's a worry stone, carved like a storm cloud”

“Because I'm your storm cloud?” Virgil groans, a knowing smirk. Roman laughs nodding sweetly.

“Because you are my storm cloud” Roman leans in stopping himself, he knows he's going to regret his next move but he takes his waist and locks their lips. Virgil allows it to happen, his arms snaking their way around Roman's neck.

“What was that?” Virgil questions, not entirely opposed to the idea, his arms remaining.

“Think of it as a breakup kiss, and a birthday present” He shrugs, Virgil chuckles shakily. “I have a proposition,” He says removing his arms, taking hold of Virgil's hands.

“Oh do tell” Virgil plays with Romans fingers in his own.

“You say we’re moving too fast then let's start again. From the top, Virge you're basically my best friend” Roman can't keep still, Virgil feels the warmth spread as he stays safe in his arms. “I'm not gonna let that slip away, and I'm not gonna let Damian slip away. Come on, I know you miss me” Roman teases, Virgil pouts stretching Romans arms behind him, he leans in planting a kiss on Roman.

“Maybe just a lil bit” Virgil states, Roman, shakes his head still smiling.

“Virge...I'm serious” Roman begs, Virgil nods allowing him to continue. “I wanna do this right, please” He requests, Virgil has no qualms.

“Yes of course” He purses his lips feeling Romans phone buzz, he smirks coyly, removing it from his back pocket. Roman barely puts up a fight. “Oh? Who's James?” Virgil wonders, Roman rolls his eyes “Come on best friend, whos the dude, I bet-” Roman leans in kissing him

“We can start tomorrow” Roman tries to grab his phone back but Virgil lifts above his head shaking it. He takes it scrolling through the previous texts giggling after each one, a contagious joy spread from the two. And before the hour strikes seven, it's just them in their delighted aura.

~~~

“I think alcohol might have been a bad idea” Roman jokes, Logan grunts sitting down as he simply takes another sip of his drink. “Come on Lo, we should head home” Roman suggests, feeling the high of Virgil's lips upon his own drain away

“Im...going to propose to Patton” Logan decides, he flops on the couch, the music quiets as the people around him continue. Roman guffaws, a bellowed laugh.

“Yeah, alright Logan. I think you have to be dating first” Roman takes a calm sip of his drink, observing the world around him. Logan

“I'm not kidding Roman” Logan sits up, adjusting his glasses “I've known him for ten years. I practically know everything about him” Logan shrugs “I know he takes his coffee with cream and two sugars, a hint of cinnamon. I know that his favorite color is the rainbow because it changes every day. I know today its violet for Virgil's birthday. I know that he checks on the twins at least three times before going to bed himself.  I know that there are only two people who can touch him without causing him to flinch. I know that when he balls his fists he digs his nails so deep into his skin he draws blood.” Roman doesn't want to listen anymore, his heart hurts as he watches Logan defeated

“Logan you do-”

“I know that turtlenecks provide him some sense of comfort as they wrap in warm coziness. I also know he used to use them to hide scars” Logan takes a shattered breath “I know that when he kisses me my heart beats a million times faster…” Logan rubs his forehead frustrated “I know that he can never have his eyes or hands away from the twins. And I know that...that” He pauses sucking in his huffed tears

“Logan? What?” Roman wants more

“I just like him so much” Logan moans, sprawling across Roman. “I wanna give him butterfly kisses” He pouts, Roman laughs stroking the lawyers head gently. “Do you know what those are? With the eyes?” His pout only furthers, as tears well in his eyes. He clutches to the pillow, his glasses drooping.

“I know bud, I know” He whispers carefully, not wishing to ruin the night further. Its funny, Roman had only seen Logan like this once before, and it was also about Patton. It's almost ironic in a way.

“Mm, my phone is buzzing” Logan mumbles, his arm making grabby towards the device. Roman takes it for him, asking him to put in his code. “What's happening?” He mutters into the couch pillow. Roman reads, the grin slowly disappearing.

Logan, please help

Patton was being vague, and Roman couldn't handle that

[its-buckysbabe]

Zelus (2/5)

part 2 is finally here! im sorry it took so long but as i mentioned before im really rather quite ill. i was on a ton of sugar and painkillers while writing this so pls forgive any errors. i'll edit the whole fic when i finish writing it all.

anyway the next few updates should be becoming sooner as i plan to finish this fic before i go back to class on the 30th.

Characters: bucky x reader

Summary: Y/N tells Bucky that she isn’t the jealous type and so it turns into a sort of competition to see if he can make her jealous. based on this prompt by @buckyprompts

Warnings: swearing. michael fassbender. slight buckynat.

Word count: 1,960 words

Also read here: AO3

Masterlist Part I, Part III

You'd almost forgotten about your little quasi-bet with Bucky until one fateful afternoon a few days later. You walked into the common room in the tower, dressed in sweats and a tank top, your hair in a messy style. You wanted to do nothing but relax and enjoy the little free time you had between missions, which is why you were dressed so comfortably and why you also had a huge plastic bag full of your favourite snacks on you. The plan for today was to eat until you couldn't anymore and to also peacefully, and without disruption, enjoy another Fassbender movie.

You plopped down on the couch, your legs folded under you, and reached behind to grab a blanket. When you were sufficiently burrito-ed in, and all of your snacks were positioned in a strategic circle around you, did you ask FRIDAY to put on your movie. Tonight you were watching the Steve Jobs movie and if you were completely honest with yourself you'd already seen it a few times but you couldn't get enough of it.

You got almost three quarters of an hour into the movie when your team mates (sans Wanda, Vision and Tony who were currently away on a mission) started piling into the common room. First was Bruce who smiled timidly at you while grabbing a bag of potato chips,  joined your little movie session without asking any questions. Which you appreciated. Next was Clint, who smirked knowingly at you before parking himself on the couch adjacent to you and engrossing himself in his phone. Of which, yet again, you were appreciative. But also suspicious. Clint was well known for ruining movies by asking a hundred and one questions about the plot instead of just watching to find out. Also you swore you'd caught him looking at you and then furiously texting someone at least five times in the last twenty minutes. But you decided to let it go, knowing Clint whatever misfortune he was planning for you would make itself apparent eventually. There was no point in worrying and suffering twice.

Next in were Sam and Steve, who apparently had just got back from performing some type of physical activity on their day off, judging by the sweat running down their necks. Fools. They were standing by the fridge, throwing inquisitive looks in the direction of the TV until they realised the remote was lying on your lap. Fassbender. Steve softly shook his head, an amused smile on his face, while Sam openly chuckled at you. You threw a withering stare at him, causing him to throw his hands up in surrender, before the both of them sat down and joint your impromptu team movie night.

You were getting to your favourite part of the movie, Jobs was finally getting off his ass and making amends with his daughter, when Bucky and Nat decided to come in. You barely turned your head away from the screen, holding you hand up in their direction, signalling them to be quiet. You heard snickers from all around you but couldn't care enough to even focus on that. You felt your eyes starting to water and a smile form on your face. To a lot of people the success of the Macintosh seemed like the most important part of the film but for you it was always the growth in Jobs as a person that really pushed your buttons. You watched the rest of the movie, still interested but not too bothered if your team mates accidentally made a sound.

Before you knew it, the credits were rolling across the screen and there was an intense debate about who would get to choose the next showing. Steve currently had the remote in his hand, say something about showing respect to elders while he was holding Sam back from reaching across him and stealing the remote with barely any effort at all. Bruce was watching all of it bemused, sat a safe distance away, with his favourite potato chips in his lap. Clint was watching the whole thing like what you'd expect a puppy to look like watching a tennis game, his phone now stored safely in his pocket. He was really enjoying the whole back and forth and wasn't particularly interested in the outcome.

That's when you realised that Nat and Bucky were sat together on the little love seat couch that you and Bucky normally sat on. And Nat was also looking suspiciously put together for someone who was supposed to just be hanging around at home. She wore the tightest yoga pants you'd ever seen, with mash panelling in strategic places all around her legs, and a crop top that may well have just been a sports bra. It was too tiny for you to conclusively tell. Her hair was up on a messy ponytail that looked far too pretty to be an accident. It also looked like she was wearing mascara.

And then Bucky. He was sat close to her, which wasn't uncommon since the two of them had quite the history, but he was sat as close to her as he would be if he were with you. He never sat that close to other people. You titled your head in question as you assessed the situation before you.

Almost as if he could feel your stare Bucky turned around and locked eyes with you. He smirked, winked and then put his arm around the back of the love seat, over Nat's shoulders to pull her even closer into her. The look in his eyes was nothing but mischievous and that’s when you remembered the jealousy thing. Interesting. You smiled at the scene before you, which caused Bucky to look at you in confusion before mouthing 'what?' at you. You simply shook your head in response, too scared to open your mouth in fear of laughing out loud.

A giggle escaped you before you could stop yourself, which caused the escalating fight over the remote (that had been getting increasingly more physical) to stop. Everyone looked over at you, before following your gaze to see a confusing sight. Your boyfriend was essentially cuddling with another woman, your team mate and close friend at that, and you were laughing at the whole situation.

“Really? Nothing?” Bucky exasperatedly asked, breaking the slightly awkward silence that had overtaken the common room. You grinned, shaking your head at him, still trying to control the giggles.

“Doll, are you kidding me?” he practically yells, frustration showing in his voice. You noticed he'd gotten up and was on his way over to your seat. He was also running his flesh hand through his hair. You couldn't believe that somehow you were the one having the most fun as a result of his little challenge.

“Nope.” you answer, popping the 'p', barely concealed mirth in your voice. You were looking at Natasha, wondering if she'd willingly entered into this. Which is when you noticed her shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

“Wow...” he breathes. He's shaking his head in bewilderment, all your team mates looking at the two of you in absolute confusion. You'd noticed that Steve had even put down the remote that he'd been so valiantly fighting for down.

“I do have one question, though.” you countered. You really weren't too bothered by this whole thing but there was one thing that you simply had to know so that you could move on with your life.

“I knew it!” Bucky exclaimed, entirely too excited. He leaned forward, eager to hear what you had to say. Which made your next words all the more satisfying.

“Its not for you, old man.” you told him, dismissively waving your hand in his direction.

“Wh-what?” he stammered out. His brows were furrowed and he was looking at you with his nose scrunched up. If he hadn't been the person to instigate this whole situation you would have felt some sympathy for the guy and put him out of his misery. But as such that was not the case here, so you simply turned away from him and towards Natasha.

“Nat, I just gotta know how he got you to do this.” you basically demanded, as you leaned back in your seat. You expected that whatever got Natasha to part take in Bucky's shenanigans had to be a pretty cool story.

“Apparently, I owe him one for that time in Odessa where he didn't kill me. So nice of him, right?” Natasha explained. Bucky barely spared her a glance, looking straight at Steve, who was now giving him the Eyebrows Of Disappointment. Everyone else looked just as confused as you and since neither Bucky or Nat (or Steve) looked like they were in a hurry to explain you decided to try and just ask. Probing Natasha and getting her to talk was an impossible ask so you thought going straight out was the best option.

“Odessa?” you inquired, your eyebrow raised.

“Its a long story but honestly I just wanted to see your reaction.” Nat said, quickly deflecting. You noticed that she didn't seem unwilling to talk about it, since she was the one that had brought it up in specifics, but rather that she seemed like she didn't want to talk about it in such a public setting. It had been years since her experiences in the Red Room, and honestly she'd settled in almost seamlessly, but she still found it difficult to share things about her past. Which you understood.

“Fair enough.” you nodded, acquiescing her request to change the subject. You'd try and ask her about the whole Odessa thing another time. Maybe on the next girl's night when Wanda was back. You made to get up, having gotten enough out of Nat, when Bucky's hand on your wrist stopped you.

“Where are you going?” he asked, a hint of desperation in his voice.

“To my room. Duh.” you told him slowly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Which it was. You'd gotten your fill of Fassbender for one night, and quite frankly of social interaction, so you were going to retreat to your bed and scroll through Instagram until you fell asleep.

“Oh.” he answered eloquently.

“Wanna come with?” you asked, with the same tone that you'd ask a small child.

“Huh. So you're really not mad? I was convinced you were gonna make me sleep on the couch tonight, doll...” Bucky said, though it sounded like he mostly talking to himself.

“Nah, I told you. I'm cool.” you quipped, as you grinned at him.

“Riiiiiiight.” he said, a teasing tone finally in his voice. It seemed that, at least for the moment, that he'd given up on his ridiculous little game.

“Shut up and get up, Buck. I wanna go to bed and cuddle.” you ordered as you tugged with your arm that was still encased in his wrist. He promptly let go of you and heaved himself up.

“Yes, ma'am.” he bellowed, as he mock saluted. You fondly rolled your eyes at him as he wrapped his arm around your waist, the two of you retreating down the hallway to your room. The rest of your team mates, apart from Natasha and Clint, watching completely baffled.

“What the fuck was that?” Steve finally asked, minutes after you had exited. He was entirely confused. He had no idea what had just happened, nor what in general was going on.

“I don't know. I once saw Y/N's eBay history. They're into some real weird shit, those two.... Its probably best not to ask.” Sam whispered, a shudder wrecking his body. Steve visibly blanched and nodded, silently picking up the remote and passing it to Sam.