#obviously + wallet and keys but I didn't want to take a picture of those

[contedimontecristo]

a glimpse of what's in my bag at all times

[cjsinkythoughts]

The Night Shift

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4,189

Warnings: a few bad language words (sorry Stevie), fluff, I think that’s all

Summary: Your bad day turns worse when you're given the night shift at work. But you find it has more perks than you original thought. 

A/N: Here it is! My first ever posted/published work! This is a bit new for me for quite a few reasons. 1. I usually write OCs. 2. I'm used to writing 3rd POV and past tense. 3. I like writing series and longer fics. 4k is actually pretty mild for me. Also, I'm planning on doing more first date fics with the Avengers, but we'll see if I keep up with that. Thank you and enjoy!

(Pictures not mine but collage is)

Today is not your favorite day. You woke up late, your laundry isn’t done because the machines were all being used when you tried, your roommate didn’t do the dishes so you had to do them before you left, your car broke down - meaning you had to take the Subway - and now you’re working an extra shift because your stupid coworker didn’t show up.

Who even comes in to get coffee at 9 at night? The sky is dark, the stars are out, and everyone should be getting ready for bed - including you. God. You love New York, but sometimes you wish the damn city would just go to sleep for once in it’s goddamn existence.

You’re practically asleep on your feet, getting ready to close in fifteen minutes, when the door opens, the little bell ringing in response. You rub your eyes and turn from where you’re wiping down the back counters to speak to the wackjob who wants coffee at this cursed hour.

You freeze, your eyes meeting stunning azures framed by dark lashes. Thick, soft, chocolate locks fall down past his ears and into those alluring eyes. Lips, perfectly pink and very tempting, pull up in a delicious smile. He’s got a jawline sharp as a knife, only accentuated by the dark scruff covering it. Jesus Christ this man is attractive. He’s also vaguely familiar…

He strolls up to the counter, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans that pulled taunt around his thick thighs. His shirt is pulled tightly across his shoulders, muscles flexing beneath the fabric, threatening to tear the material with every movement.

“Hello.” You thank whatever deity that might be out there that your voice doesn’t shake as you greet the gorgeous god of a man.

“Hi there, doll. Cody’s off today, huh?” Even his voice is breathtaking.

“Yeah. He didn’t show up. Is he a friend of yours?”

The man tilts his head in confusion, before his eyes light up realization. “Oh, no. No. I just come here a lot.”

“At nine at night?”

He shrugs, a small blush rising on his cheeks. “It’s the only time I get to myself really.” It clicks in your head who this man is when he raises his hand to rub the back of his neck. Black metal gleams in place of tanned skin.

“You’re Bucky Barnes!” You blink at him in disbelief. His hand quickly finds its way back to his pocket while he chuckles awkwardly. “Oh my god. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you. You’re one of my favorite Avengers! After Black Widow, obviously, but-” You stop rambling, feeling heat rise to your face. “God, I’m tired. Uh, what can I get you?” You punch in the order that he gives you and look up shyly. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

He smirks and leans on the counter. “How about a name, darlin'? Yours, specifically.”

You roll your eyes, unable to contain the snort you give. “I’ll be right back with your order, sir.” You start making his drink, avoiding his eyes that you feel watching your every move. Usually you had another worker helping to make drinks, but since there’s only ten minutes until closing, you’re alone to close up the shop tonight.

You also usually only write on the cup when there’s more than one person, but you find yourself writing down your own name on his cup. It is part of his order, after all.

“Here you go.” You repeat his order, handing his cup to him.

He raises an amused eyebrow. “You forgot-” You interrupt him by clicking your tongue and turning the cup in his hands. He looks down at it curiously, before grinning and reading the ink out loud. The way your name falls off his lips has you holding in a shiver. “Thanks, sugar.” You watch him leave the shop, whistling a nameless tune, and wonder if Cody would mind switching shifts more.

Turns out, Cody had been arrested, so your boss had to hire a new kid who, because of school, couldn’t do the night shifts. Which meant your shifts changed. Not that you mind all that much; it gives you more chances to see Bucky.

When he said he comes in often, he wasn’t lying. Occasionally he stays while you clean and lock up and the two of you get lost in conversation under the city lights outside the shop. He usually orders and leaves with a witty comment and a wink, probably off to save the world from aliens or Nazis. He always orders the same thing, but he always asks for a little something extra, different every night.

“The usual?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Anything else?”

“Your phone number would be great.”

~

“I’ll get right on your drink, Buck.”

“Awesome. Can you add your favorite flowers to that, too? Thanks, sugar.”

~

“I’m gonna change it up today, dollface.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll have the usual, but on the side I want to know what your favorite dessert is.”

He’s such a charmer. You aren’t sure if he’s just flirting or if he actually likes you. You think maybe he does that with every girl - waitresses, cashiers, secretaries - and he’s just being friendly. You’re sure after being stuck as a brainwashed assassin for nearly a century, flirting and cracking jokes with people makes him feel more normal. Still, you can’t help but wish that maybe the relationship you have now would become…more.

It’s not until he shows up a few weeks after your first meeting that you finally get an answer to whether or not he really likes you.

The bell rings, signifying a customer coming into the shop. You know it’s Bucky by the watch on your wrist; in the past few weeks of working the night shift, only one other person came in at nine o’clock.

“Good evening, beautiful.” A smile lifts the corners of your mouth at the familiar smooth voice that you could listen to all day. “Whatcha doin’ down there?”

You straighten up and look over the counter. “It’s called inventory. How’s your day been, Buckaroo?”

“Better now that I get to see your pretty face.”

You roll your eyes, face heating up and a small smile gracing your features. “Give me a minute and I’ll have your drink done. Anything extra?”

“This is a bit riskier than normal, but I’ve been wanting to try it for a while. Can I get your schedule?”

You raise an eyebrow in confusion as he smirks confidently. “My schedule?”

“Yeah. I just need to know something.”

“What would that be?”

“You free on Saturday, doll?”

* * * * * * * *

Saturday comes much too slowly for your liking, especially considering he asked you out only two days prior. He didn't tell you what you'd be doing today, so you decide on a casual sundress that you can play off as fancy if you need it to be. The color and style compliments you and your beautiful features perfectly and you can only hope he agrees. Your roommate assured you you looked gorgeous before going out with some of their other friends this morning.

You're just putting the finishing touches on your outfit for the day when a knock on your door sounds throughout your apartment. You check your watch: 10:30 on the dot. Just like he said. You get up too quickly, causing you to trip on your own feet and stumble - but luckily you catch yourself before you fall. Feeling simultaneously embarrassed and relieved he didn't see your clumsy actions, you head to open the door.

A bouquet of your favorite flowers appeared once you open the door, bright cerulean eyes shining at you from behind them. He grins, said eyes scanning your figure. "You look pretty as a picture, doll."

You duck your head bashfully, taking the flowers from him. "Thank you." You not so subtly check him out as you put the flowers in a vase. Like always, Bucky is absolutely stunning: his brown locks frame his face, falling into those mesmerizing blues, which are even more so due to the dark blue t-shirt under the light bIue jean jacket hugging his muscled torso. Dark jeans pull taunt across those thighs, his large hands in his pockets casually. You find yourself frowning when you notice his left hand is covered by a black glove. You want to say something, but decide against it, too anxious to ruin the date with this god of a man.

He clears his throat, which brings your gaze back to his face. You feel yourself heat up at the smirk on his perfectly pink lips. "Uh, I, um, so...what are we doing today?"

"I thought we could have some fun today, since all you ever seem to do is work."

"I don't always work." You quickly defend. He raises a disbelieving eyebrow, making you drop your head again. "Okay. Maybe I don't get out much."

He chuckles. "Good thing. That way I get you to myself." There's that smug smirk again. "As for what we're doing, that's for me to know and you to find out. I'd wear walking shoes if I were you, though."

You give him a curious look, moving over to grab your keys, phone, and wallet, before slipping on your sneakers. "I don't get a hint or anything?"

"And ruin the surprise? Where's the fun in that?" You giggle a bit as the two of you head out your door and down the hall. "I didn't know if you mind motorcycles, so I just borrowed Steve's car." He tells you in the elevator.

You talk about motorcycles and your opinion of them as you walk out your building and into the bright Spring sun. Your eyes widen at the nice Camaro parked in the street that he leads you to. "Wow."

"Yeah." Bucky nods in agreement. "Tony had it custom made for Steve for their anniversary a few months ago."

"And he's allowing you to use it?"

Bucky chuckles, running a hand through his hair as a pink tint dusts his cheeks. "'Allow' is a strong word."

You laugh as he opens the passenger door for you. You thank him, sliding onto the nice brown leather seat. "Does he even know you have it?"

He shrugs, shutting the door and leaning into the open window. "He'll find out soon, I'm sure."

Another laugh escapes you, a smile adorning his lips at the sound. He walks around the car, doing a hood slide to make you chortle again. While you two start driving, you try to convince him to give you a hint, but he's stubborn, denying you answers with that annoyingly charming smirk of his.

You recognize the direction you're going after a while and bounce in your seat as you arrive. "Coney Island?"

"I haven't been here since before the War and I've been meaning to come see how it's changed." He told you with a grin. "Who better to come check it out with than the pretty dame who serves me coffee at nine o'clock without complaining?"

Rolling your eyes to cover how much comments affect you, you smile teasingly in return. "Have you always been such a charmer, Barnes?"

He parks the car before shooting you a wink. "Only to angels, darlin', and you're the first one I've met so far."

You inwardly curse, hating how easily flustered you get around him. He gets out of the car and you're about to follow when he opens your door for you and offers his hand to you like the gentleman he is. You take it, enjoying the feeling of your smaller one against his rough calluses, and he helps you out of the car, shutting the door behind you.

"You ready to have the time of your life, dolIface?"

"As long as you get me a treat." You joke, linking your arm with the one he offers.

"Like I wasn't going to?" He scoffs back. "Who do you think l am, sugar? Now c'mon. Fun's awaitin'."

You laugh, letting him drag you around, loving the child-like wonder in his pretty eyes. Whether or not you enjoy roller coasters, you have a blast: playing carnival games, eating food you both know is terrible for you, but tastes oh so good, and people watching the interesting crowds, all while teasing and playing around with each other. There's nothing better you can think of to do with your free day than goof off with Bucky, no stress or worries plaguing your mind like usual. He even wins you multiple adorable plushies! Being a super soldier wasn't just good for saving the world, evidently.

It was while you're eating lunch that you ask Bucky why he's wearing a glove. "I've already seen your arm. I don't mind."

He hesitates, opening his mouth before licking his lips nervously. "It's not...I know you don't. I just don't...I dunno. I don't wanna freak anyone out."

You frown and put down your food, leaning forwards on your elbows. "First off, I think you're an amazing person. Just throwing that out there. Second, I don't think anyone will mind. You're a hero. An Avenger. Basically a celebrity with a badass arm. And, finally, if anyone does say anything, I'll tell them off. Easy peasy."

He snorts at that, before looking at his gloved hand warily. You reach across the table to give both his hands a squeeze. He meets your eyes and you grin reassuringly back. "If you're not comfortable, that's okay. Just know that other people should never be the reason to hide yourself. Trust me."

"I do." He says genuinely. You give him a questioning look, playing with the tips of his gloved fingers. At his nod, you slowly start taking his glove off, giving him time to say no. He doesn't, letting you tug it all the way off. He blushes when you lift the smooth metal to your lips.

"So, what's next? Wanna win me one of those monkeys with the velcro hands?" He chuckles at your question, telling you he'd win you all of them if you asked. You giggle, tightening your hold on his hand and, after finishing the last bite of food, pulling him to the booth with the monkey prizes.

When it starts getting dark, Bucky convinces you to go on the Ferris Wheel with him, promising to hold your hand the whole time if you're scared of heights (even though you haven't let go of his hand or arm since lunch). It's one of the most stunning scenes you've ever seen. The sun is just barely peeking over the horizon, a few stars dotting the darkened sky, a rare sight living in New York City. The aforementioned city's lights were turning on, causing the skyline to glow brightly. It's hard to think of anything bad about NYC when she looks like that.

"Wow. " You breath, enchanted by the city you've grown to love as home. "There's something almost...magical about it, don't you think?" You turn to Bucky, still captivated by the view, expecting him to be the same. After all, New York has been his home for over a century and so much has changed. Instead, you find him intently watching you, a small, adoring smile etched on his features. You smile shyly, unable to keep his gaze while he's looking at you like that - like you're the most enthralling thing he's seen, bewitching his heart and soul, even with the magnificent picture before you.

"Yeah...there is." He agrees, grabbing your chin between his left thumb and pointer finger gently, making your eyes meet. His right arm is around your shoulders, pulling you into his warm chest, heating you up from the chill the night is bringing.

Your heart drums hard against your ribs when he glances at your lips and you're sure he could hear it, even without his enhanced hearing. Your eyes lock onto his lips as his tongue darts out to wet them. You're suddenly so much closer, his right hand holding the back of your neck delicately while his left cups the side of your jaw. Your hands are gripping his jacket, noses brushing.

"Can I kiss you?" His voice comes out low and raspy.

"If you didn't, I'd probably smack you."

You feel his deep chuckle reverberate through his chest, which you just notice is pressed solidly against yours. Before you can process anything, his lips are slanted over yours. They're softer than you originally thought and they move expertly against yours. It surprises you, before you remember he's technically over a century old, so of course he has experience.

The kiss is over before you want it to be, but the need for oxygen gets too much and your lungs start to sting, so you pull back reluctantly, your hands now in his hair while he's holding your face tenderly.

"Speaking of magic."

You laugh, rolling your eyes as the Ferris Wheel starts turning again. "Who knew Bucky Barnes is such a sap?"

He smirks, leaning forwards to peck your Iips a couple times. "I prefer the term 'romantic'."

Once you get off, you hold onto his elbow, leaning against his shoulder. "Thank you for bringing me, Buck. I really enjoyed today."

"Well that's good considering we're not done."

Your eyebrows shoot up. "Wait, what?"

Bucky scoffs in amusement. "You didn't think that was all, didya, doll? The day's not over; the night's still young!" His right arm slings around your shoulders, pulling you close and kissing your head.

"Okay. What's next?" You ask curiously. He raises an eyebrow, a smirk on those delicious lips. "Another surprise?"

"Hope you're hungry, sweetheart."

"Dinner?"

Giving you a charming grin, he leads you back to the car. "Guess you'll have to wait 'n see, darlin’."

* * * * * * * *

"Buck.” You groan, toeing the ground nervously. The blindfold covering your eyes was keeping you from seeing anything and, to your embarrassment, you've already tripped more times than you care to admit. “Where are we? l feel like we've been walking forever. Can I take this stupid thing off yet?”

Bucky chuckles softly in your ear, holding you steady as you walk on the uneven surface beneath your feet. “We’re almost there, doll. I promise."

Letting out a huff, you let him lead you further along. Finally, after what feels like hours, though you know you're being dramatic and haven't been walking that long, he stops. "Stay right here," he mumbles, his hands that were on your shoulders leaving, along with his warmth behind you, with a kiss to your cheek.

"Haha. You're so funny."

A couple snickers leave his lips and you can just imagine the smile no doubt gracing his features - the one that crinkles the corners of his eyes adorably. You feel wind nip at your bare skin and shiver slightly, wondering where the hell you are.

"Okay. C'mere." His hands are on you again, the contrast of the two adding to the goosebumps the breeze was giving you. "Right here." You can practically feel his excitement and nerves as he positions you. "Alright. Ready?"

"As much as I'll ever be, I suppose."

His nimble fingers are suddenly at the edge of cloth covering your eyes, which he makes quick work of, tugging it off gently. "You can open your eyes, sugar." He chuckles, seeing your eyes tightly clenched shut. You do as he says and blink them open. The sight that meets you takes your breath away.

He brought you to a beach, which you had kind of already guessed due to the sad slipping through your shoes. In front of you, a blanket is spread out, being held at the corners by lanterns, which are connected by a string of fairy lights outlining the blanket. Pillows are scattered on the blanket, a picnic basket to the side while a single red rose is in a small vase in the center with rose petals surrounding the setup. He really is a romantic.

"Bucky. It's beautiful. When did you set this up?"

He rubs the back of his neck, turning red. You smile, enjoying the fact that you can make him just as flustered as he makes you. “Actually, the team helped me out a bit. It was originally just Natasha and Steve. But, uh, then Tony and Wanda found out and then...Sam."

You giggle, knowing his and Sam's brotherly relationship from previous conversation. "I bet he teased the shit out of you when he found out."

"Please," Bucky scoffs. "I'll be the butt of his jokes for at least a month. At least, this part of me will."

"Well, I love this side of you if that's worth anything."

He grins dashingly at you. "Then let the birdbrain tease, because that’s worth everything. Here." Taking your hand, he leads you over to the blanket and sits you down. "All those questions at the coffee shop and I never asked your favorite drink so I brought red, white, beer, Coke, Pepsi, root beer, and," he pulls out the last bottle he brought with a boyish smile. "Apple juice. There's water in 'ere too. And, o' course, the meal and the dessert, which I did ask about because I'm not a complete idiot."

Laughing, you can't help but pull him in for a kiss. "You're so cute."

He clears his throat, his face heating up while he rubs the back of his neck, tying his hair back in a knot. He hands out compliments like candy on Halloween but he can't take them to save his life. How adorable can one man be?

You two eat and talk about everything from hilarious childhood stories to what keeps you up at night. You love listening to his fascinating tales of playing through the 20s, scraping through the 30s, and fighting through the 40s. You especially love the way his face lights up when talking about his family, the Howling Commandos, and America's Golden Boy, both twink and tank stories.

After a couple hours, you find yourself wrapped in his warm jacket - which smelled amazing - leaning against him as he tells you about his new family. You sip on your preferred drink, your eyes fluttering shut, content to simply listen to his soothing voice talking about Clint and Scott's latest prank on Pietro.

"You tired, doll?" You hear him whisper tenderly, his arms around your waist while his thumbs run small circles on your sides.

You hum and look back at him over your shoulder. "Just feeling the moment." He smiles adoringly at you, kissing your temple.

"It's getting late anyways. We should get you home. Don't want your roommate worrying."

You scoff, but agree. You help him clean up and carry things to the car, despite his protests. You nearly fall asleep on the ride back, his big, warm hand resting comfortably on your thigh the whole way. He squeezes gently when you pull up to your building, murmuring lightly to wake you up.

Ever the gentleman, he walks you inside and helps you bring the armful of prizes he got you to your door. Once there, you unlock the door and lean against the frame, facing him.

"Thank you, James. As far as first dates go, this is by far the best one I've had."

He shoots you a smug grin. "Glad to hear that, beautiful. Does that mean if I asked for a second date you'd say yes?"

You give him a smirk back. "I'd say your chances are very good."

"And if asked for a goodnight kiss from the most gorgeous girl I've ever been blessed to be in the presence of?"

You giggle, ducking your head shyly. His hands grip your jaw, pulling your gaze back to him. He nudges your nose with his, whispering against your lips, "is that a yes?" AII you can think to do is nod. He smirks at your reaction, before he's pulling your lips against his. It's more passionate, less hesitant and experimental, than the few previous kisses you shared. He's angling your face to deepen the kiss, his hands tangle in your hair and his tongue prods your lips open, swallowing the little whimper you let out.

When you pull back, you're breathless, panting against his open month. "You workin' tomorrow, darlin'?" He rasps out.

"No." You try to collect yourself enough to answer, although it's hard with all your nerves on fire, his scent fogging up your brain. You manage to move your heavy tongue enough to say, "I have the weekend off."

A broad grin lights up his pretty face. "Great. I'll be over at nine. Have a nice night, sweetheart."

You nod, an airy "goodnight" leaving your lips. You watch him walk off, a pep in his step and his lips turned up. You lean back against your door, hugging all your new plushies to your chest, still wrapped up in his jacket, and let out a sigh.

You'll have to go visit Cody and thank him. After all, that dreadful night shift gave you the best day of your Iife.

[spevonnie]

Everybody has bad days. A day where you wake up, and you don't know why, but something is just off. You don't feel like getting out of bed, you don't feel like making or eating breakfast, you don't feel like going to work, but you suck it up and deal with it--Only some people can't.

Steven had woken up Saturday morning, luckily a day he and his flatmate slash girlfriend Connie both had off work, with a heavy, slimy ball of despair banging around his torso, his chest tight and a thick layer of gloom and guilt coating his throat. He lay on his side of the twin sized bed they shared, blankets tangled and askew as one leg and one arm hung off, his face smushed against his pillows, staring at the wall. He was awake unusally early, probably due to a nightmare he didn't remember, and he decided he had no intention, nor energy, to get out of bed that day. He felt Connie stir beside him, stretching out a bit, and she yawned and scooted closer to him, hugging him from behind as she wormed an arm under his rib cage and lay her head against his back.

"Mmmm....Good morning." She mumbled softly, waking up.

Steven, not wanting to alarm her and knowing she would try and get him out of bed because it was 'good for him' ow whatever, pretended to be asleep.

"Steven," Connie said, fingers scrambling sleepily at the little words on the chest of his shirt. "I know you're awake, I can tell by the way you're breathing."

Steven sighed. "That's impossible,"

"Well obviously not."

He didn't answer. Even his lips felt heavy, like it took an enormous amount of energy and motivation to speak.

"Steven?" Connie began, lifting her head so she could look at him. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah!" He mustered. "I'm fine."

She peered at him. "Bull. I'm gonna go make coffee, I'll even put that ridiculous amount of creamer you use in. Does that sound good?"

"I don't want any..."

Connie frowned. "Would you like me to make you breakfast?" She rubbed his back in slow circles. "Anything you'd like, I can even do those egg, mozzarella, sausage, and mushroom quesadillas."

"No thanks." He mumbled.

"Steeeeveeen..."

He didn't respond.

"Okay, well I'm gonna go get myself coffee and breakfast, okay? I'll come check on you." She kissed his cheek and left the half-walled room, making her way to the little kitchenette.

Steven remained in the same position, and she noticed with a deepening frown as she checked on him after breakfast, after her run, after her shower.

After her shower was when she finally drew the line. "Steven, you're isolating," She frowned. "Come on, come get out of bed and do something with me. It's almost noon." She walked over and crouched by his face so he was looking at her, taking his hand gently. "You wanna cook with me?"

He looked at her. "Can we make zucchini bread?"

Connie was a little but surprised at his response, but she smiled. "Zucchini bread? Yeah, sure! C'mon, sit up."

He nodded and sat up, stretching a bit and yawning. "Kiss me?" He asked her as he stood.

She smiled and stood on her tiptoes the slightest bit, giving Steven a little peck on the lips, making a playful stink-face at him as she pulled back. "Brush your teeth,"

He snorted and nodded, going to brush his teeth.

A few moments later, Steven and Connie were washing their hands in the kitchen sink.

"Okay, so," Connie began excitedly "I didn't know if you had a recipe in mind, butI was thinking maybe we could look for one that has-"

"I don't need a recipe," He shook his head.

"What? Steven, no," She giggled.

"Yeah! I made this all the time, we can do it."

"Okay, whatever you say." She said skeptically, but she smiled.

He gathered what he thought the ingredients were, and she began grating the zucchini.

"How much of this do we need?"

"Umm..." He began. "L-Like three cups?"

"Oh boy," She muttered playfully to herself as she shook her head at him, grating more.

He was mixing together their dry ingredients, and in Connie's opinion, he was spending way too much time switching between measuring tools before he actually used each one. She finally managed three cups of shredded zucchini and came to help with the wet ingredients.

"How many eggs?"

"Err...three..."

She gave a small laugh. "Steven," She said with a smile, hip bumping him gently. "I'm hearing an awful lot of hesitant threes. Are you sure you know the recipe?"

"Yes! Yeah, of course!" He grinned. "you just don't know how any of this works, you're too busy genius-ing or whatever."

She giggled as she cracked three eggs into the bowl. He turned around, hands on his hips and powdered ingredients all on his pajamas, scanning the room. She watched him, smiling a bit, seeing his eyes light up a bit as he found what he was looking for, a whisk he'd left on the counter. He brought it over and poured some milk into the bowl, eyeballing it and whisking. She pulled the zucchini over and they mixed it into thw wet ingredients, combining it with the dry. They poured it into their greased pan, and Steven popped it in the oven, setting a timer.

"Okay, you wanna come watch that one episode I've been telling you about all week?" She asked, poking his cheek with hands on his shoulders.

"Yeah, okay," He shrugged and took her hand, her free hand reaching to dust him off. He blushed and they cuddled on their little loveseat.

Some time later, Connie got up to pull it out of the oven, making a face.

"What?"

"What, 'what'?" She asked

"You're making your oh-no face." Steven said.

"Er--It's nothing, I'm sure it'll be fine." She smiled.

"Connie, that's like the least effective way to assure someone," He smiled, shaking his head as he walked over on his toes a bit.

"PFFFT OH NO!" He laughed, blushing and covering his face a bit. "How-How did I mess it up this badly?" He asked, frowning at the sloppy, deformed lump on the cooling rack.

"Steven, I'm sure it's fine, it probably tastes delicious." She said, breaking a piece off and blowing on it for a second. She popped ut in her mouth, waving the heat off and beginning to chew. "See? It's--" She made a face and spit it into the sink.

Steven groaned and covered his face again. "Oh no, I wasted our groceries and your time, I-"

"No you didn't!" She smiled. "Okay, the zucchini, a little bit, but we weren't gonna use that anyway I bet. Steven, of course you didn't waste my time. You think I pulled you out here because I wanted some picture-perfect baked good?"

"Well--Well, yeah," Steven admitted, shrugging as he blushed a bit, rubbing the back of his neck.

She smiled and shook her head, reaching up and hooking her hands together behind his neck. "Honey, I brought you out here so you'd get out of bed and spend time with me. I couldn't care less if you made gourmet or garbage, I just wanted you to take care of yourself and let me take care of you." She said, blushing a bit.

He was a little pink as he nodded. He kissed the tip of her nose. "Well thank you..."

She smacked his shoulder playfully. "No thank-you's! This is just what you get when you have my love. You wanna go see if we can get some donuts?"

He smiled and nodded. "But I'm paying-"

"Not if I get my wallet first!"

They laughed as they stumbled over each other in their scramble to get their wallets and to the one set of car keys hanging by the door, and Steven felt a bit better in that instant--Not cured, and it was still a rough day, but he knew he had someone on his side.

[haddonfieldproject]

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<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>

1.1.17 HALLOWEEN NIGHT 12:24 AM

Haddonfield, Illinois

Samantha yawned as she pulled the keys from the ignition. More lightning flashed in the sky as she behind her, through her rear windshield, at the square building in front of which she was parked. A white triangularly shaped sign with blue lettering designated this as THE PYRAMID INN. The property was perched on a flat hill, overlooking what the locals called “Dysfunction Junction”. Interstate 57, US Route 31, and Illinois 395 all came together in a tangled mess of off ramps and on ramps that sprawled like spaghetti noodles over the northern running section of Lost River, which in this part of town had been diverted into a concrete culvert in the early 40s as part of one of Roosevelt's “Work's Projects”.

Samantha had parked at the end of the mostly empty parking lot, which was her custom, and from her vantage point she could see down into the nest of intersections. She saw the lighted signs of big box stores off to the east on her right. Straight ahead she saw the gas station from which she had come, and to her left, off to the west, she saw a strip club that very obviously used to be a Howard Johnsons, it's parking lot completely full with some cars spilling out along the side of the road in front.

Lovely, she thought sarcastically as she opened her car door. Just my kind of town.

The sweltering humid air hit her in the face like a tennis racket.

“Jesus, it feels like Miami.” She said to herself, and then smiled as she clicked the button on the fob in her hand to open the hatchback on the Murano. “I wish it were Miami.”

Nyguen pulled her rolling suitcase from the back of the car, placed it on the asphault, and extended the handle. “We'll just pretend it's Miami.” She decided as she closed the hatch and turned toward the motel.

The Pyramid Inn seemed to want to help her with the fantasy. For one, it was sweltering hot, almost as bad as outside, and as Ngyuen walked through the automatic glass doors, she felt like she had been magically transported back in time twenty-five years. The lobby was painted a pale teal color, with mauve indoor outdoor carpeting, and popcorn ceilings flecked with glitter....this Sam noticed right away. The yellowish light from pineapple shaped fixtures along the walls was defracted by the glitter, creating the sensation of moving sparkles above her as Samantha strolled through a lobby furnished with wood and wicker tables and chairs, painted white, the chairs padded with brightly colored cushions patterned with tropical motifs. There was abundant wall art too---strange scenes of Egyptian landmarks like the pyramids at Giza and the Sphinx, except...done in a weird art deco style that seemed wrong somehow.

An large old fashioned square CRT television was affixed to a hanging mount in each corner, below each was a potted palm tree. One of the TVs was displaying The Weather Channel although the sound was turned all the way down. A pretty blonde woman was standing in front of a map of the Midwest, sweeping her hand across thick line of red, orange, yellow, and green splotches. The other TV had the volume on and was showing an aerial view of a baseball stadium even the most casual of fans would know.

“We're in the top of the 10th here at Wrigley Field in Chicago. The Cubs have gone to the bullpen yet again for another pitching change as the White Sox have just taken 3-2 game lead in this decisive Game Seven of the World Series.”

Nguyen rolled her luggage around a coffee bar, and approached the desk, bumping into a cheap looking display rack featuring brochures with picturesque views and colorful headings. SEE CHICAGO! THINGS TO DO IN CENTRAL ILLINOIS! PEORIA CALLS YOU! And SEE THE CAVERNS OF LITTLE EGYPT!

A morbidly obese woman sat behind the counter fanning herself with one of the brochures: LOST RIVER KAYACKING!

She wore a white t-shirt with red letters that read: I SURVIVED ARKANSAS' LARGEST SLINGSHOT AT THE CRITTENEDEN COUNTY FAIR 2003. The shirt had either been shrunk so many times by frequent washing or the woman who wore it had ballooned up in weight considerably because now it hugged the contours of her bulbous body, giving her a look of the Michelin Man. Her mouth hung open revealing two sets of badly yellowing teeth, and a large dime-sized mole protruded from the left side of her neck. Sam could see the light from the pineapple lamps reflecting off hairs near the tip of the mole.

Not quite Miami, Nguyen thought as she cleared her throat.

“Excuse me?”

The woman did not stir.

“Curveball from Bellamy drops inside, it's one and one on Franklin.”

Nguyen rolled her eyes.

“Ma'am!” She exclaimed and plopped her car keys loudly on the desk.

The woman jumped and her eyes snapped open. The brochure fluttered aimlessly to the gound as she leaned forward in the seat, blinking rapidly for a moment before fixing her gaze on Samantha.

“Jesus Lord Almighty!”She exclaimed, breaking out into a haughty laugh that seemed to come from the depths of her enormous stomach. “You scared the everliving tar out of me!”

“I'm sorry.” Samantha smiled warmly.

“Don't be, don't be.” The woman groaned as she stood up from the chair. She wiped the beaded sweat off her forehead. “Jesus God is it hot in here!”

“Yeah it is.” Samantha agreed, withdrawing her phone from her pantsuit pocket and checking the time, mentally calculating the precious few hours of sleep she was going to get that night.

“It's not our fault.” The woman exclaimed, reaching the desk and panting as if she had just climbed a mountain. “Corporate has the damn thing programmed. This time of year the AC never comes on in here. We're supposed to run the ceiling fans, but that's been broke for two years.”

She motioned to the ceiling behind Sam who turned around and saw two wires protruding from a hole in the ceiling in the center of the room, as well a slight discoloration in the form of a circle where a fan obviously used to be.

“And then they tell me if it gets too hot to open a damn window. I said Christ!, it's just as damn hot out there! And the wind aint blowin for nothing.”

Samantha replaced her phone in her pocket. “Yes, it sure is strange.”

“It's NEVER like this in October...hell..now it's the first of November! NEVER like this! I mean...we've had a hot day or two at the beginning of September but NEVER this hot on Halloween!”

Samantha nodded, not knowing what else to say.

The woman moved a computer mouse across the desk and began typing on the keyboard.

“I tell you what,” she said, “I don't understand all of the mess that they talk about on the TV.”

As she said this, she pointed to the television in the corner that was displaying The Weather Channel, which right now was showing a commercial for Flex Seal. “But this type of weather will make you a believer in that Global Warming stuff.”

“Yeah,” Nguyen forced a laugh.

The woman looked up at her and waved her hand. “But you don't gotta worry about it, there's a window unit in your room. The rooms are nice and comfortable.”

“That's good.” Nguyen replied.

“Just you tonight sweetie?”

“Just me.”

“I just need a drivers license.”

Samantha presented it.

“Just passing through?” The woman asked as she entered Sam's information into the decade old computer.

“No, I think I'll be town for a few days.”

The woman looked up in disbelief. “In town? What town? This town?”

Samantha didn't know what to say.

“No one comes and visits Haddonfield!” The woman laughed another belly laugh. This one devolved into coughing which she stifled with her hand....the same hand she handed Samantha back her driver's license with.

Not Miami at all. Sam thought, placing the card into her wallet.

“That will be $38.96 sweetie.”

Sam couldn't hide her surprise. This was the cheapest motel room she had gotten since...well...ever. She passed over her Bureau issued AMEX card.

“Oh I'm sorry honey, we don't take American Express.”

“Oh.” Samantha shrugged. Ordinarily this might have been an issue but she was pretty sure she could handle a $40 motel room from her personal checking. Besides, the department would reimburse her later. She passed over her VISA.

“I'm gonna need a receipt then.” She said.

“You got it.” The woman replied and opened a drawer in front of her, pulling out a large bronze key on a white triangular shaped keychain emblazoned with the motel's name and logo.

Actual keys, Samantha marveled, not those plastic keycards. She wracked her brain for the last time she had seen that and decided on..never.

Five minutes later she had rolled her suitcase into room 113 and had turned the key in the lock. The room was furnished very much like the lobby: light teal walls, mauve indoor/outdoor carpeting, popcorn cielings flecked with glitter set to sparkle by another pineapple shaped light fixture. She was almost positive the bedspread and pillow case mached the pattern in the chair cushions in the lobby as well. Samantha paused briefly to look at a picture on the wall, another strange Art-Deco Egyptian painting, this one featuring Cleopatra flanked on both sides by lions. The paintings were so bizzare and striking. Sam looked in the bottom corner: Rose Gauge 2019.

I'm gonna have to google more art by this Rose Gauge person. She thought, kicking off her shoes into a corner. She walked over the window unit as she pulled at the buttons of her pantsuit. There she turned the knob all the way toward the thickest part of the blue semi-circle and felt a refreshingly invorating blast of cold air hit her face from the dusty looking window air conditioner.

She laid down on the bed, and still with her bra and spanx on, she fell asleep almost immediately.

NEXT>>

[punkscowardschampions]

Joe & Ronnie

Toe dip

Joe: I'm back in town, you about? Ronnie: Bored of playing with yourself or just playing happy families, yeah? Ronnie: Fuck off Mckenna Joe: S'not an answer, is it Ron? Ronnie: mummy dearest ain't funding my jetsetting Ronnie: there's your answer Joe: Nor mine Joe: Thank you student loans Joe: Are you coming over? Or we playing hide and seek? Ronnie: snap your fingers at me again and see what happens to 'em Ronnie: fuck off you're better at that like Joe: Not like I wanted to Joe: Needs must Joe: Which is what I'm saying, obviously I'm good for it, not like I think you missed me or anything Ronnie: bullshit. you love it golden boy Ronnie: if you didn't wanna be there you'd have been here Joe: Love it so much I moved countries to breathe Joe: Love it so much I found you Joe: It ain't that simple, I can't get out their clutches that easy Ronnie: 'cause you're a sadist. just pay for some bitch to whip you or some shit like normal pervs who love the torture Ronnie: don't come crying to me about it Joe: Ain't like that either Joe: always got by on self-inflected tah Joe: you know I need you Ronnie: liar Ronnie: you need them Ronnie: and to fuck me as a fuck you to them Ronnie: it ain't about me Joe: no Joe: i HAVE them Joe: obligation Joe: and if that were it i'd have done it once and rubbed her nose in it Joe: more than sufficient to fuck her up, no? Joe: who knows if they'd even flinch, my brother and bea are basically married and that was family endorsed Joe: i'm fucked up, that's why i want you so bad, its as simple as that, you've always known that Ronnie: like i give a shit Ronnie: you ain't found any the bastards your da's bound to have dropped Ronnie: makes me the lucky one Ronnie: keep your crying that side of the plane ride, yeah? Ronnie: I'm not here to comfort you Joe: if you like Joe: even if they existed, doesn't mean they're gonna be the same as me Joe: more carbon copies of him, like the rest of 'em Joe: i don't want you to Joe: already got that covered, remember? Ronnie: i ain't the same as you Ronnie: different species baby Ronnie: you got everything and I got fuck all, remember? Joe: yet we still both ended up here Joe: its in our DNA Joe: both her parents were junkies Joe: rest is just circumstance Ronnie: Fuck you I make my own choices Ronnie: and it's not that deep Ronnie: It feels good, I do it Ronnie: blame her all you like but don't expect me to join the party Ronnie: nothing any of you do affects me, got it? Joe: You're old enough to know better than to give such a baby junkie cliche answer Joe: giving to charity and going for a daily constitutional 'feels good' too so I hear but I don't see you out there seizing life by the balls on those scores Joe: There are reasons we chose heroin over life, wanna rewatch seeing as you're feeling really basic about it today, like Ronnie: what i know is that nothing feels like heroin does, soft lad Ronnie: end of Joe: and there's reasons you know that by experience and not hearsay Joe: everyone knows that but everyone else is too content in their happy little lives to find out properly for themselves Ronnie: nobody's that content they're just that pussy Ronnie: scared they'll lose an arm or get riddled and whatever else they've seen on their tv Joe: Whatever Joe: same sin different name Joe: i'm not in your inbox to philosophize Joe: Someone got #deep in my absence Ronnie: take it to church Ronnie: a priest'll be happy to suck you off Ronnie: if you don't like what happens when you go stop leaving Joe: ha, i'm not that young, you know? Joe: my prime is behind me Joe: want me to be the cliche now Joe: say never again? Joe: 'cos I wish it could be true but you know, no broken promises Ronnie: just a crybaby, yeah? I know Ronnie: I don't want to hear any of your bullshit Ronnie: grow a pair mckenna Joe: then stop talking Ronnie: step up and make me Ronnie: you know where i am Joe: are the others about Joe: charlie, mainly Joe: i can't be bothered to be fake to or for my fam for another second and you know he loves them Ronnie: that cunt's down the job centre he'll be longer than I can stand you Joe: just mad 'cos your six-month ban is still in effect Joe: just come over ron Joe: please Joe: i don't want to risk seeing anyone else, i only wanna see you Ronnie: you begging now? Ronnie: that's why you gotta stay away from that lot Joe: thought i'd try it this way before going straight to kidnap Joe: gotta give a lady options Ronnie: try scoring you owe me Joe: done Joe: wait 'til i'm past security don't fancy the cavity search Ronnie: don't knock it 'til you've tried it Ronnie: they might take the gear but they'll show you a good time Joe: of course you'd endorse it, already know you're all about them good feelings Joe: like i said, only got time for you Joe: hopeless romantic Ronnie: hopeless twat Ronnie: trying to make me vom again like Joe: can't blame a boy for trying Joe: get you off your A game=more junk for me Ronnie: still a selfish bellend then Joe: 'Course Joe: you'd never do the same, like Ronnie: if i had gear or money for it i wouldnt be wasting my time on you and this convo Joe: N'awwh Joe: nice to be needed Ronnie: you can try begging for it again Ronnie: worked so well before Joe: knew you loved it really Joe: pretty please with smack on top, hey Ronnie: fuck off Joe: so soon? Joe: just landed baby Ronnie: you left me for dead baby im not gonna wait there rattling a sign Joe: don't Joe: i gave you money, and told you to ask for more if you ran out Joe: what more could i do? Ronnie: not fucking choose them over me Joe: i didn't, haven't, won't Joe: no choice involved, until i literally fucking off myself i have to keep them in the loop i'm still breathing, they won't be satisfied 'til then, like Ronnie: you don't care if that I ain't. good thing the dealers a better fuck and provider than you 'cause my pain's nothing for theirs Ronnie: all such fucking momma's boys Joe: bullshit Joe: you get me every other day of the year Joe: whenever you want me Joe: it was one weekend to show i've got a heartbeat and bounce, that's all it is to me, i don't care if it makes them feel better, just secondary Joe: i'm thinking about you and how you are the whole time Joe: i can't think about nothing else Ronnie: bullshit Ronnie: you're never around Ronnie: uni and orchestra and whatever the fuck else Ronnie: stop acting like you give a shit Joe: gotta get money somehow and music keeps me as sane as i've ever been, it's all i had before i had you so I'm not just going to drop it, 'cos you get that too Joe: you just want to be proved right but you're not Joe: you can't push me away and shut me out Joe: sorry about it Ronnie: you're the one who's wrong about everything Ronnie: trying to make this something this ain't Ronnie: a fucking love story or some shit Ronnie: I hate you and I'm not sorry about it Joe: understandable Joe: not the only one Joe: you rather it was a sob story? Joe: don't think so Ronnie: I don't want any story I just want you to get the fucking picture Joe: i'm not very visual, sorry Joe: pick up a guitar Ronnie: You'd love that. a love song. get fucked Joe: looks like you're stuck then Joe: you think you'd try harder if you hated me THAT much Joe: hmm Ronnie: you're the try hard that ain't me Joe: glad you think so Joe: it takes all of me to be this subpar Ronnie: Shut up and get to your place I need my hit Joe: in the taxi Joe: pray you've been good enough to warrant no traffic Ronnie: you sound like your catholic dad Ronnie: is that meant to turn me on? Joe: rather it didn't frankly Joe: but that'd just give you reason to say it did so Joe: you do you Ronnie: sick fuck Joe: no arguments here Ronnie: I'm gonna kick the door in if you're not here in 5 Ronnie: your neighbours are nosey cunts Joe: did you lose your key again? Joe: they're mostly students...so they're either green and wouldn't say boo to a goose let alone you, or stoned enough themselves not to care Ronnie: fuck's sake Joe: kick the door down if you wanna, love keeping the locksmiths in business, you Joe: lost that deposit months ago anyway Ronnie: moneybags mckenna Ronnie: should've done uni like Joe: not to late, job centre will pay for it Joe: good on their books, good on your wallet Ronnie: fuck off Ronnie: can't get a degree in dope Joe: nah, but you can get a degree in almost everything else Joe: music, whatever Ronnie: prodigy privilege Joe: you don't have to be 'good' Joe: you are anyway Joe: just a thought Joe: not working on commission here Ronnie: I know like 3 chords you daft cunt Ronnie: flattery is fucking useless Joe: they teach you most of it, half my class couldn't play a triangle, you could do theory or producing anyway or set design...list goes on Joe: i'm not aiming for flattery, just how i feel Ronnie: there's easier ways to fulfil your schoolgirl fantasy Ronnie: keep your feelings to yourself Joe: sure, you offering? Ronnie: yeah if you beg me Joe: won't even stop to say hello dearest Ronnie: fuck it then why not Joe: hooray Joe: missed you Ronnie: prove it Joe: on it