#so i wanna not use it for food n instead for like stacking appliances

[harrykim]

lskfkfjf been cleaning out my kitchen for the past 4 days and im finally done wiping everything down n can start moving things back in... so instead ive just rearranged my room again <3

[dustinreidmusic]

Mac's Wild Years: By Michael Hurtt.  Originally published in Offbeat Magazine

Mac Rebennack was born in 1941. Dr. John was born in 1967. What happened in between would color his whole musical career. "In New Orleans, everything--food, music, religion, even the way people talk and act--has deep, deep roots; and, like the tangled veins of cypress roots that meander this way and that in the swamp, everything in New Orleans is interrelated, wrapped around itself in ways that aren't always obvious."--Mac Rebennack In 1967, Malcolm Rebennack, Jr., exiled to the West Coast after a final drug bust that forbid him "to go to or through New Orleans," donned face paint, glitter and plumes and emerged as Dr. John the Night Tripper. His debut album Gris-Gris, and the stage shows that followed it, hawked a brand of psychedelic New Orleans R&B that mixed Mardi Gras Indian street chants with the primal gospel of holiness churches, the pianistic funk of Professor Longhair, heavy doses of hoodoo mysticism and nearly every shred of ritualistic South Louisiana culture that he'd absorbed during his decade and a half in the New Orleans music scene. From the drag shows at the Dew Drop Inn to the electric guitar evangelizing of the Reverend Utah Smith, it was a netherworld far stranger and more colorful than anything the pioneer of voodoo rock could have dreamed up. His role in it, though often been eclipsed by his later metamorphosis, established a reputation that would inform every aspect of his later musical life. Populated by high school greasers, high-rolling gangsters, down-and-out dope fiends and jive-talking record men, it was a world that had rapidly begun evaporating with the election of District Attorney Earling Carothers "Jim" Garrison in 1961. Prior to his widely known investigation into the Kennedy assassination, Garrison made his name locally by leading a systematic crack down on Crescent City vice that padlocked night clubs, juke joints and gambling dens. He often led the raids himself, pistol in hand, and by 1963 had managed to single-handedly dismantle the around-the-clock-party that had been Rebennack's entire young life. It had been one of after-hours jam sessions that lasted well into the next day, followed by "record dates" that produced aural snapshots that just reeked with crazed rock 'n' roll atmosphere: Jerry Byrne's frantic "Lights Out" and "Carry On," Roland Stone's narcotic anthem "Junco Partner," and Mac's own sinister, tremelo-charged "Storm Warning." "If we didn't have an artist and we had some studio time we'd just be the artist," Rebennack says of the sessions that produced hundreds of singles under monikers from Ronnie and the Delinquents to Drits and Dravy. The former's 1959 "Bad Neighborhood" was a greasy period piece if there ever was one. Meant to commemorate "the end of the zoot suit era," its gleeful lines of "Lie, steal, drink all day / good folks try to keep away," was an outright celebration of the lifestyle that Garrison sought to eliminate. And the Delinquents moniker was really no joke. "When we hired Ronnie Barron to be the singer with us, he was a li'l thug," says Rebennack, who'd had remarkably bad luck with great front men thus far. "We lost more singers to the penitentiary," he says, naming nearly everyone who preceded Barron with the exception of Frankie Ford. "Deadeye went to the joint for manslaughter, Jerry Byrne fell and went up for statutory rape, then Roland Stone went up on narcotics." Local disc jockey Jim Stewart once recalled that Rebennack's teenage bands "were always high, always late." But somehow through the haze, Mac would manage to simultaneously wear the hats of talent scout, A&R man, composer, producer, arranger, session musician, and when the need arose, singer. It might have stayed that way had Barron not refused to take on the Dr. John persona, which was invented with him in mind. Rebennack had started flirting with drugs when he was 12, already well seasoned in the art of skipping school and Mass to catch the street car to the early morning R&B jams at the Brass Rail. Since his father owned an appliance store that serviced jukeboxes, his childhood was spent wearing out stacks of hillbilly, jazz and blues 78s when they came off the boxes. Schooled on "Pinetop's Boogie Woogie" by his piano-playing aunt, he soon took up the guitar. By the time rock 'n' roll hit during his freshman year at Jesuit High School, he was more than ready. At Jesuit, Rebennack formed his first band the Dominos, with Henry Guerineau, then joined Guerineau's the Spades with whom he played "the Holy Father Circuit," as he refers it, starring at CYO dances from Redemptorist in the Irish Channel to Saint Anthony's in Mid-City. His teachers were current and future Fats Domino guitarists Papoose Nelson and Roy Montrell, who took an axe to young Mac's brand new green and black Harmony guitar. "He broke it all up, called my Pa and said, 'Mr. Rebennack, I ain't teachin' your son on that piece of shit. Go pick him out something nice.' I thought I was going to get killed. My Pa was hip, though. He knew it wasn't about the guitar as much as having that guitar to bring on the gig." Montrell took Mac to a pawnshop where he picked out a Gibson that he worked off lugging appliances for his dad. "My father didn't say a word til later," Rebennack wrote in his autobiography Under a Hoodoo Moon. "Apparently Roy had taken him aside and told him, 'I taught your son a lesson, that you don't get things because of the way they look. You get them on how they work." "He had a way of teaching that kept me coming back for more. During the lesson, he strung me along with ordinary riffs--but then right at the end he'd play some killer lick, his back turned so I couldn't see his fingers, and say, 'Hey, wanna learn that shit, kid? Come back next week. Now get the fuck outta here." Having already met studio owner Cosimo Matassa, who was a friend of his father, Rebennack spent his schooldays honing his songwriting skills. "Man, I used to go to school, I had a couple of comic books where the outside cover looked like a loose leaf binder. And I'd sit there in class reading that. They thought I was doing something in school but I'd be sitting there writing songs, ripping them off from Mad or Tales from the Crypt." He'd also begun hanging out at Warren Easton High School on Canal Street, a hotbed of hip musical activity that had already birthed New Orleans first bona-fide white rock 'n' roll band, the Sparks. It was here that he first encountered saxophonist Leonard James, whose band was blasting out a set of Sam Butera songs in the school gymnasium. It turned out that James knew all about the Brass Rail too, and dug the same hard-driving sounds as Rebennack did. They were soon rehearsing at James' house in the notorious St. Roch park neighborhood with guitarist Earl Stanley--now playing the recently introduced electric bass--and drummer Paul Staehle. "Leonard lived on Robertson not too far from the park and Stanley used to live around there on Dauphine," Rebennack says. "One of the things St. Roch Park was known for was as a good cop spot. St. Roch church was famous, too, because they'd take the grease out the bells by the cemetery, mix it with some graveyard dirt and some gun powder, add extra nitrate and put that all together with Patchouli oil to make goofy dust. Now, what you did with it was according to how rank a motherfucker you were." The mysterious worlds of drugs and hoodoo fascinated young Mac, but in his new musical partners he found an even deeper magic. "Paul Staehle was bad. I remember him having drum battles with Edward Blackwell and all the top drummers. And Stanley had a finger-plucking style of guitar like Snooks did, North Mexican shit that he'd learned from his daddy. He was into Earl King and Guitar Slim just like I was. We liked those cats because they did something different." Rebennack had picked up on the flamboyance of his guitar heroes a little too acutely for the priests at Jesuit, who'd brought his high school career to a halt after a Christmas talent show where they accused him of making "lewd gyrations" with his instrument. The real beef, Henry Guerineau later told Tad Jones, was that they were playing R&B instead of big band swing or Dixieland. "At the time," he recalled, "it was heresy." Stanley, who became the Spades' guitarist after Rebennack left the band, was having his own issues over at Nicholls High. "I used to hang with the gangsters, all the tough guys," Stanley says. "I was so bad they threw me out of Nicholls but they couldn't throw me out of school. So they asked me to leave and I went to McDonough on Esplanade for a couple of months, then I quit when I was 15. That was in '55. "I didn't know Mac when he was in the Spades. I just remember seeing him playing guitar at the dances. I thought, 'That guy's pretty good.' Then I got with Leonard and through Leonard I met Mac. They had a guy playing piano with them, Hal Farrar, he went by the stage names 'King Helo Attaro' and 'Spider Boy.' Now Hal was a character, he was the character of them all; the main lunatic. He liked to drink vodka, he could care less about anything, just a wild man. He used to have this Cugat jacket he'd wear and he'd play piano and try to do all of Little Richard's stuff. He even had the little moustache. In fact, he recorded the original demo of 'I've Been Hoodood' (later to become the flip side of the Dr. John hit "Right Place, Wrong Time") with Leonard." Vocalists Wayne "Deadeye" Herring and Jerry Byrne were also drifting into the group at this point. "We used to do the old low-down blues," Herring told Jones. "There weren't too many white bands that could do it. Back then if you sat in with a black band, boy, they'd jump on your ass when you come outside. People took a dim view of that but we did it anyway." While band names revolved from the Skyliners to the Loafers to the Night Trains to the Thunderbirds, the foundation remained James, Rebennack, Stanley and Staehle. "Crippled" Eddie Hynes and Eddie Shroeder often floated in on trombone and baritone sax respectively. "Whether it was Leonard's band or my band, it was all pretty much the same crew of guys," says Rebennack, "Nothing really changed other than we changed the name of the band quite frequently. It kinda helped us get some gigs and win some talent shows. We lost them under one name and won them under another." The core foursome debuted on wax with an album of raunchy guitar and sax instrumentals, Boppin' and A Strollin' with Leonard James, recorded for Decca in 1956. Rough, ready and loose, the LP was the perfect soundtrack of noir New Orleans; at once evocative of French Quarter strip joints, high school dances and hood hangouts like the Rockery Inn. Along with discs like the Saxons' "Camel Walk' and the Sparks' "Merry Mary Lou," it stands as a testament to city's incredibly potent--but often obscured--white rock 'n' roll underground. "Leonard always took pride in combing his ducktail perfect," recalls Rebennack. "I mean, he would stand in front the mirror for an hour and then put his be-bop cap on--perfect. He had his little zoot suit pressed, more than the rest of us. We'd just wear them. They were the kind that didn't wrinkle any way. "Leonard was a great hustler. He used to walk in joints where they never had a band in their life. I remember us getting a gig in the Ninth Ward at a grocery store. Leonard conned this guy into hiring us but he wanted country music. We didn't know any country music so we'd play 'Comin' Around the Mountain' or whatever. As long as we were working, we didn't care nothing about none of the rest of it." From dives like the Club Leoma, the Blue Cat and the Jet Lounge, they moved up to the Clock on St. Charles Avenue and finally, the Brass Rail. "While we were working there Paul Gayten says, 'If y'all want to keep the gig, you're going to have to quit playing songs like the record.' And that became kind of a theme with our band. We didn't play them like the records, we played them our way." Gayten also took issue with their slightly out-of-date stage wear. "We had the same suits for so long that I don't think anybody ever considered getting new uniforms until Paul started fuckin' with us: 'Nobody wears zoot suits in Chicago; they wear continental suits.' Man, here we had all our money invested in these royal blue zoot suits. And what do we do? We got some new suits from Harry Hyman's or old man Sutton's on South Rampart--continental suits--and we wore them in Gretna when they had a gang fight at Cass's Lounge. They throwed us all in the drainage ditch out behind the joint. We ruined our new suits and we hadn't even paid for them yet! "When we worked at any of them joints on the West Bank, shit happened. At Spec's Moulin Rouge, old man Spec used to have guys walking around with pieces dressed like police but they wasn't official police, they was just guys who worked for old man Spec. Gang fights was, like, prevalent. When the Choctaw Boys and the Cherokees would have their annual beef at the Wego Inn on the Hill, it would be around Carnival. And it would be like, 'Goddamn.' You know the shit's going to happen; it's just when it's going happen. I would be trying to play close to the slot machines that were on the bandstand because I figured the slots could deal with the slugs better than me. When I saw anything that looked like it could be trouble, I'd back up toward the slots. But this is the kind of shit you had to endure back in them days because you were dealing with a bunch of crazy motherfuckers. And we were crazy, too." If there was one song that distilled the insanity into the length of a 45 RPM record, it was Rebennack's "Lights Out," cut by Jerry Byrne for Specialty in 1958. Punctuated by stop-time drum breaks, a foghorn-like saxophone riff and a searing piano solo courtesy of Art Neville, "Lights Out" has justifiably been called "the perfect rock 'n' roll song." Byrne's breakneck vocal nods to a personality so bent on bringing the house down that fights--and sometimes worse--often ensued. "Jerry was one of them suckers who worked the house," says Rebennack, "but he was a piece of work. He drove me crazy a number of times in my life. He was special with that. Hey, guys wanted to shoot me over things Jerry did. He had the ability to kick up more shit with more motherfuckers than anybody I know." In 1959, Byrne cut Mac's equally boisterous "Carry On" and then got sent to prison on a trumped-up statutory rape charge. Deadeye was already behind bars. "It was a never-ending thing," says Stanley, "just make a record and things happen, you know?" Despite the trouble, says Rebennack, "our band was really popular." They'd toured with Frankie Ford behind "Sea Cruise" and Byrne behind "Lights Out" as well as backing the traveling rock 'n' roll caravans at both the Municipal Auditorium and Pontchartrain Beach Amusement Park. And the records kept coming, from Bobby Lonero's "Little Bit" to Morgus and the Ghouls' "Morgus the Magnificent." "I don't think any of us thought that much about doing a record date," reflects Rebennack. "The gigs were the fun part. When I started working for Joe Ruffino's record company, Joe asked my daddy if I could be the president of the company and my daddy says, 'What are you crazy? This boy can't even find his fuckin' shoes!' But there were so many guys we did sessions for like Andy Blanco at Drew-blan in Morgan City and a bunch of other guys that had different little labels in the country. We played on all of Cos's Rex stuff and then we did a lot of crazy stuff all through the days we were working for Johnny Vincent over at Ace. I remember we stole 'Jimmy Crack Corn' and called it 'Ain't No Use.' We cut 'Row Your Boat' with Big Boy Myles. And I don't know how many different versions of 'Junco Partner' we cut with Roland Stone. We were some plagiarizing motherfuckers." Stone, the most prolific of Rebennack's vocalists on record, had already blazed the white R&B trail with local luminaries the Jokers when he waxed the regional smash "Just a Moment" with Rebennack in 1961. His entrance roughly coincided with the departure of Leonard James, who was replaced by Charlie Maduell after he joined the Air Force. "Charlie was just as crazy as Leonard was, but Leonard never got high. On the other hand, Charlie fit right in with the rest of us because he liked the narcotics, too. Probably the only one that wasn't a really serious drug addict was Stanley. If we were somewhere in the country, we would burglarize drug stores. When we were in the city, we forged 'scripts. We were strung out dope fiends, what the hell you going to do? There was a pharmacy on the corner of Dorgenois and Canal that used to sell to all the dope fiends. You had to go in there and ask for certain things, that's when I started getting my collection of Mad comic books together. If I got a comic book and a bag of pork rinds, that meant I wanted some opiates. Everything you ordered meant something else. We used to have so much fun that who'd have ever thought we'd wind up in jail? "My favorite gig was when Roland was singing with us and we started working at Little Club Forest on Jefferson Highway. At Club Forest, you could tell what audience hit because when all the junkies would come in, they'd just want to hear 'Junco Partner' over and over. When the whores came in they'd want to hear whatever their song was that night. So there were all these songs that fit the set. That gig was so fuckin' off the hook, so much crazy shit happened at that gig alone, I couldn't even describe it. "Between Charlie Maduell and Paul Staehle, they would always hide the stash for the band. One night they had a raid and Paul had the whole band's stash in his sock. They didn't shake us down, but the FBI came in and they emptied the joint. Somebody paid everyone's bond and before the night was over, Wes, the Jefferson Parish narc, was selling the customers back their dope in the band room! This is how out there it was. "And then Charlie went out and walked the bar and did the dance of the Seven Veils. He's out and there doing a striptease walking the bar. It's one of them gigs that's printed in my brain. And we always had what we used to call our 'band-aids' back then. Before they called them groupies, we called them band-Aids." When Stone fell for one of the young ladies a little too hard, friction arose. "I told Roland, 'Hey, listen, you can't marry this girl. She's our girl. She belongs to the band.' I thought I was doing him a favor but it backfired. He was obviously pissed." Stone showed up for his next recording session with three henchmen in tow including prizefighter Pepi Flores. "They stomped my ass. Charlie went out and got a gun and was firing in the air. I says, 'Charlie, quit shooting in the air! Shoot these motherfuckers!' He didn't even have real guns. They were replica weapons he'd loaded up! But we all went to work the next night together. Me and Charlie wound up having to wear shades and makeup to hide the black eyes. That's when I learned, hey, when it comes to matters of somebody's heart, stay the fuck out of it." The good times had to come to an end and they eventually did. Stone was busted on a narcotics charge, as was Maduell, who remains in Angola today. Within just a few years, Paul Staehle would die of a drug over dose. Rebennack's own luck ran out on Christmas Eve of 1961 when he intervened in a scuffle between Ronnie Barron and a jealous club owner who accused Barron of having an affair with his wife. "I walked in to get Ronnie at the last minute because Ronnie was like Leonard James, he'd take forever to get himself all perfect. So I go to get him and the guy's pistol-whipping him. Miss Mildred, Ronnie's mama, said if anything happened to her son on the road she was going to take a butcher knife and chop my cajones off. So I'm thinking, 'Man, if anything happens to this guy, his mama's going to fuck me up.' And hey, she was much more frightening to me than this guy was. I thought I had my hand over the handle of the gun, but it was over the barrel. I'm beating his hand on the bricks and as I'm hitting it, all of a sudden the gun went off and my finger's just about to fall off of my hand. It was hanging by a piece of skin and then I went crazy. I took Paul Staehle's ride cymbal out the case and just fucked up the guy's face. I was trying to pull his eyeballs out his head." Doctors managed to reattach the finger, but Rebennack had trouble playing guitar with the intensity he'd become known for. He concentrated on the keyboard, playing organ on virtually all of Huey Meaux's New Orleans sessions, most notably those of Barbara Lynn and Jimmy Donley. The first--and perhaps wildest--chapter of his musical career officially came to a close when he was busted and sent to federal prison in Fort Worth, Texas. Upon his release in 1965 he headed to California and his future as the Night Tripper. "You know what the kicks of it was?" Rebennack asks. "We wanted to play music so bad that we didn't ever think about it. We were trying to make a hustle just off of the gigs and that was part of the fun of it. Everything we done, we had fun doing it. That was the one thing that I always treasured about them days. It was just something that happened. When you're young and crazy and stupid, you do a lot of crazy, stupid shit. But a lot of that shit is great because you're too stupid to know better. I know that we made it a point to always have kicks, to always have good times no matter what was going to go down. We never thought, 'Oh, this is a suck-ass gig we're going on.' We went on all kinds of suck-ass gigs! But while we were doing them, we had a ball."

[rainygalaxynerd]

Brave New World - FINAL CHAPTER

Warnings: If you’re still with me, nothing new.

Summary: Set app. a year after the chapter “Days”

Word count: App. 2.200

A/N: I did it!!! I finished it! I can’t believe it. *Ugly crying* Now what am I gonna do??? (Finish the follower inserts from my 300 follower celebration before I hit 400, maybe? Finish recording Force of Habit, one of @littlegreenplasticsoldier ‘s many masterpieces? Do the recording of Mirror Mirror, I’ve been wanting to do since I wrote it? How to choose, how to choose...)

This is part of a chapter story (in case the caption didn’t clue you in). Link to mobile friendly master list here.

Tagging: @winchesterprincessbride @jencharlan @twenty-onepages @kbrand0 @fangirling-instead-of-working @mrsjohnsmith @deandoesthingstome @vibou25 @jotink78

“You’re not hunting alone. It’s too dangerous. Call someone else, got it?”

Sam grinned and slapped Dean’s shoulder. “Was planning to.”

Dean raised his eyebrows and put a hand to his chest in mock pain. “So that’s how it is, huh? Trying to give your poor, crippled big brother a freakin’ heart attack on top of everything else?”

Sam scrunched up his face, processing. “I didn’t catch that,” he finally lamented. “Unless you said something about a boar, nippled pig mother. And was there something about an art attic?”

Dean flipped him off, not quite managing to bend his index finger.

Sam grinned. “How very British.” He put an arm around Dean’s shoulders and steered him away from the wheelchair. “Come on, let’s get you home and put some real food in you. You can get back at me when you’ve had some of that pie Caitlin made for you before going to work.”

Moving On

“Dean!” Caitlin squeezed between two stacks of boxes, higher than herself.

She found him in the kitchen, staring at a metal circle between two handles.

“What the fuck is this?”

“It’s a corn cob scraper.” She sighed.

“Why do we have a corn cob scraper?”

“To scrape kernels off the cobs. Can’t you just put it in the box?”

“But I’m gonna hafta carry the box to the truck and from the truck to the house. I’m not gonna pack stuff we don’t need.”

Caitlin crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows. “I used it three days ago for that cream corn you gushed over so hard, I thought you’d sleep with it and banish me to the couch.”

Dean’s eyes widened. He pursed his lips and scrutinized the scraper for all of two seconds before tossing it into the open box next to him. With a shrug, he picked another item from the drawer. He stared at it. “What the fuck is-”

“Just throw it out. I only ever use it when I make pies and I don’t think I’m gonna do that anymore.”

Faster than lightning, Dean put the thing in the box.

Caitlin smiled, shaking her head. “Dean, I just wanted to know if you and Sam agreed on when to pick up the appliances this weekend?”

Dean buried his hands, elbows deep, in the kitchen drawer, feeling for more stuff. “Yeah, um, sure.”

“So when are you picking them up?”

He glanced up, eyes wide. “Saturday, I guess. Or Sunday, maybe.”

Caitlin glared at him until she burst out laughing. “Jeez, you’re tired. Why don’t you take a break? I’ll text Eileen and figure it out.”

“Yeah, okay.” Dean sighed and threw himself on the couch. He ran a shaking hand across his face and let his eyes drift shut.

He woke up to Caitlin gently massaging his neck and shoulders. “Mwhah?”

She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I talked to the company and the houses are so close and the total order for all of us is big enough to warrant free delivery, so that’s taken care of.”

“Mmh.” Dean pulled her closer, overbalancing her. He made an ‘oof’ sound when her weight hit him. Then he wrapped his arms and legs around her and kept her there.

“Are you secretly an octopus?” Caitlin relaxed against him.

“No, I’m a homeowner. But if you’d asked me ten years ago if I thought I’d end up as an octopus or as a homeowner, I’d have gone with octopus.” He lifted his head a bit to look her in the eyes. “It’s weird how bizarre it feels to be normal.”

“You’ll never be normal. Doing normal stuff won’t change who we are. You’ll never be a civilian, Dean.”

He squashed her tight against him, chuckling at the way her breath whooshed out of her lungs. “You’re right. I just… Fuck, I…”

“I know. I get it. But, Dean, you would have had to stop someday no matter what. You could have ended up dead or far worse off than this. Anyone who didn’t know you before will barely notice that you’re a bit more clumsy than most. There’s still so much you can do.”

“But I can’t hunt. I can’t save lives. If something ever happens to you, or to Sam, Cas, Eileen… I can’t protect you.”

“I know. That’s life for most people. You can still do a lot of good.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

Caitlin was silent for a while. “You could help Sam with research.”

“Or I could get a job at Biggerson’s, flipping burgers. No way, I’m gonna sit and read about monsters and lore and not get to kill ‘em myself.”

“I bet you’d be the employee of the month all through the year.” Caitlin’s grin broke free. “You’d look so dashing in their uniforms, with the cap and the stripes-”

She cut off, squealing, when Dean tickled her sides, showing no mercy.

Her phone buzzed and bought her a respite as she read the text, almost hiccuping from laughing too hard.

“Who’s writing? Did Charlie kill Garcia’s character off again? Has Cas been arrested again? Is it Eileen?”

“It’s from Brad.” Caitlin showed him the message, sad smile on her lips.

I JUST WANTED TO WISH YOU GOOD LUCK IN KANSAS CITY. YOU’LL BE A GREAT DOCTOR. I HOPE EVERYTHING IS GOING ACCORDING TO PLAN WITH THE BIG MOVE. ALL THE BEST, -BRAD

Dean read with a frown. “You gonna answer?”

Caitlin sighed. “I don’t know. I hate knowing his psychiatrist’s reading over his shoulder. My answer wouldn’t be just for him.”

“I know he hasn’t had it easy but I still don’t get how you can forgive him.”

“Well, you weren’t there for his trial. It’s his story to tell, but trust me; he already paid his dues and some.”

“You mean they… Nevermind. I don’t wanna know.” Dean shook his head, holding Caitlin tighter to him. “Will you have to go back here and testify every other week when Cody’s appeal starts?”

“I’m sure they’ll ask me to.” Caitlin shrugged. “I won’t.”

Dean opened his mouth.

She spoke first. “I know they might repeal his death penalty without my testimony but he’ll be behind bars for the rest of his life either way. Cody might deserve to die but I’m against capital punishment on principle.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, questioning.

“Sure, there are humans worse than any monster you and Sam ever hunted, but once they’ve been caught and locked up, they’re not doing any more harm. How do you distinguish between them and the people that might have been possessed or otherwise influenced by something that will never be acknowledged in a courtroom? How do you know the difference between a Brad and a Cody if you weren't smacked in the middle of it? I didn’t even know the difference when I was sixteen, would never have known if they hadn’t taken me last year.”

“But what if he ever gets out? Some bureaucratic mistake, a legal technicality, early parole due to good behavior. As long as he’s alive there’s always a risk.”

“He’s not the only threat out there. There are Djinns and Demons and Daevas and drunk drivers and diseases, just to mention a few beginning with the letter d. I spent ten years in hiding, playing it safe. I’m done living in fear.”

Dean let out a deep breath when she nuzzled close, her nose tickling his neck. For a while, they just lay there, enjoying the closeness. Then he spoke, his voice rougher than usual. “I’m surprised you don’t think Sam and I are killers, with that attitude.”

“Dean. You protected people. It’s not like there’s a court or a prison for human eating or killing, sentient creatures out there.”

“Always so rational.” Dean licked Caitlin’s cheek, laughing when she tried to get away, sputtering in mock outrage.

The licks turned to kisses and the kisses turned to nibbles. Caitlin gave in with a content little sigh, ending in a gasp when Dean used enough pressure to make her really feel his teeth around her earlobe.

Dean snuck a hand under her blouse and undid her bra.

The doorbell rang.

Dean huffed a half laugh, half sigh as Caitlin sat up and redid her bra clasp. He put his hands on her hips. “Can’t we just ignore it?”

Her eyes softened and her movements slowed. “What if it’s important?”

“They can leave a note.” Dean’s hand snaked up her back again, destination obvious.

The doorbell rang again, followed by a quick rapping rhythm, Dean knew all too well. He let his hand fall with a sigh of regret. “Or they might unlock the door since we were dumb enough to give ‘em a key.”

They scrambled to their feet and looked halfway respectable when their front door opened to reveal Sam and Eileen.

Looking at Dean and Caitlin’s still frazzled appearance, Sam grinned. “I’m sorry, are we interrupting something?”

Dean flipped him off. “I thought you guys were busy in Kansas, painting protective sigils in invisible ink?” He signed a few keywords out of habit, though Sam most likely understood just fine, interpreting the movements of Dean’s lips.

“Yeah, we just… something came up. I wanted to tell you in person.” Sam did that weird thing where it looked like he was looking up from under his lashes, all shy and uncertain.

Dean’s jaw clenched, wrinkles of worry creasing his forehead. “Sammy, what’s wrong?”

Sam sputtered. “No, no. It’s not like that, nothing bad. But… It’s just… I guess Eileen and I will have to stop hunting, too.”

Dean's eyes flitted between the two of them, mouth open and eyes wide.

Caitlin broke into a wide grin, something unspoken passing between her and Eileen. “Congratulations, you guys,” she exclaimed, hugging first Eileen and then Sam.

“Could someone tell me what’s going on?” Dean grumbled.

Caitlin bit her lip and watched Sam expectantly.

Sam smiled wide, dimples carved into his cheeks. “You’re going to be an uncle, Dee.”

Dean’s eyes went impossibly wider, his mouth agape. A blissful smile slowly spread before he froze, frowned, and narrowed his eyes. “If this is some stupid joke about that mutt you’re planning to adopt-”

“No joke. Though we do plan to get a dog, now that we won’t be traveling as much as expected.” Sam grinned. He sobered a little. “Dean, I know you don’t like talking about it but you practically raised me, man. You’ll be there, right? If I need help?”

Dean swallowed hard and engulfed Sam in a crushing hug. “Of course, little brother.”

They didn’t get any more stuff packed that day, leaving the chaos behind to eat out.

Over desert, Dean nudged Sam. “So what are you gonna do, college boy, if you’re not hunting?”

Sam chuckled. “Be a college boy, I guess. Charlie dug up my old scholarship and refurbished it. I guess I’m going back to law school. I won’t become a procedural lawyer as long as I’m deaf but I guess pushing pens isn’t so bad.”

Dean glowed with pride. “That’s… Holy fuck, Sam, that’s awesome.” He put his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I’m really happy for you, man.”

“Thanks.” Sam took another bite of his salad and chewed slowly. “So, what about you, Dean? Any idea what you’ll do with your time while Caitlin’s busy at the hospital?”

Dean made an awkward shrug and lowered his gaze to his plate. A sly smile appeared on his lips. “Maybe I should take some child rearing classes. At least one of us should know what we’re doing, this time.”

Eileen almost choked on her water.

Sam kicked Dean under the table, his expression grateful. “You didn’t do too bad the first time around, you know.”

Dean grinned and Sam knew he walked right into what was coming.

“Imagine what you could’ve achieved if I had known more, college boy.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

It was late, and they were both a little buzzed from toasting so many times when Caitlin turned to trace the handprint on Dean’s shoulder with a finger. “Did you mean it?”

Dean, almost asleep, grunted, opening one eye halfway. “Meanwha?”

“You, working with kids?”

Dean shrugged. “Dunno. Those ankle biters can be vicious.”

“But not as scary as monsters, right?” Caitlin chuckled.

“Way scarier.” Dean smiled. “I guess they’d be easier to handle than engine parts, these days.”

“I never told you, but when the Djinn had me, I dreamed of you. Us. Together.” Caitlin blushed.

“You did?” Dean pulled her closer. “What was it like?”

“You…” She smiled, her cheeks heating further. “You were a nurse at the pediatrics ward. You were amazing with the kids.”

Dean gaped at her. “A nurse?”

She nodded, biting her lip.

Dean pursed his lips and tilted his head, considering. “Don’t nurses usually end up marrying handsome doctors?”

“Shut up, Winchester.”

“Why? You could be Doctor Winchester, parading you trophy spouse, nurse Winchester around at fundraisers. Doc Winchester’s got a nice ring to it, don’t it?”

“Dean, seriously, can it.” Caitlin rolled away and lay on her back. “You’re such an ass.”

Laughing, Dean poked her side. “You’re the one who dreamt me as a nurse, Doc.”

Caitlin glared at him with narrowed eyes. “I did. I saw you put a glove over your head and down over your nose, making it look like a pig’s snout and blow air into the glove until it came off your head, whizzing across the room.”

Dean laughed harder. “That’s… that’s priceless. Next time I get my hands on a glove, I’ll try it.”

“Screw you.”

“Really? I thought you were mad at me?”

“Dean!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll stop. Sleep tight, Caitie.”

Caitlin turned to kiss him goodnight. “You too, nurse Dean.”

“Whatever.” Dean drifted off, his smile lingering.

[pleasecallmecaptain]

With You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Explicit language, Angst

Word Count: 4K+

A/N: Holy shit, guys. This is the longest one shot I’ve ever written and I’m not sure what happened, but it just took on a mind of its own. Like, who am I? Anyways, enjoy!

You were never one to hold back, especially when you wanted something. In this case, it was someone. In fact, the more the object or person of interest resisted, the more determined you were; you always enjoyed a challenge. From the moment that Bucky Barnes first stepped foot out of the elevator doors, you were drawn to him.

You were sitting in the common room, enjoying a movie and a bowl of ice cream when the elevator dinged, announcing its arrival, and you turned your attention towards the lift. The metal doors slid open and that’s when you first saw him. He had just come back from a mission and was still in his dirtied tactical gear. His hair was longer than you had imagined, his steely gray eyes sharp and focused. Steve exchanged a few words with him as they exited, probably about a later debriefing, when his stormy eyes flitted over to yours briefly before the Captain gave him a pat on the back, pulling his gaze away from you. He nodded at Steve before turning on his heel and heading back to his room. You didn’t see him again that night.

You did, however, see him again the next day during lunchtime. You had been up till the wee hours of the morning, keeping Tony company and tinkering with his toys in the lab, so naturally, you didn’t wake up till eleven in the morning. Scurrying downstairs to the kitchen so you wouldn’t miss lunch, you almost ran straight into him when you rounded the corner.

“Woah!” you yelped as you almost crashed into the open refrigerator door. He didn’t even flinch at your loud reaction nor did his eyes divert from scanning the inside of the fridge. Seeing that there was no better time for an introduction since you weren’t sure when you were going to see him again, you extended your right hand out to him.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you chirped.

He turned his head slightly and his eyes drifted from your face to your hand, his left hand clenching into a fist. “Bucky Barnes,” he grunted quietly as he grabbed a few eggs and some cheese and let the refrigerator door slam shut, leaving you hanging with your hand still stretched out. You pursed your lips and awkwardly retracted your hand, but didn’t let it ruin your mood. You scooched into the seat next to Clint and almost drooled when Natasha placed a heaping portion of pasta in front of you. As you took a bite of your lunch, you glanced over to Bucky, who was standing in front of the stove with a spatula in hand. You quickly swallowed your food and asked, “Bucky, you’re not going to eat with us?”

Instead of answering verbally, he dished his omelette onto a plate and held it up to you before exiting the room. Your brows knitted together and you turned to look at Clint for an explanation.

“He rarely eats with us,” Clint shrugged. You nodded and took another bite of your pasta. As you chewed, your eyes flickered over to the doorway where Bucky had just passed through and you couldn’t help but wonder about him. You were intrigued and his mysterious aura only pulled you in more, like a gravitational force.

It wasn’t long before you acknowledged you had a crush on him. No, it was more than a crush. You liked Bucky Barnes. He was a man of little words, but his actions definitely spoke for him. Because of his quiet nature, you had grown accustomed to observing the soldier.

You remembered the coffee incident. You and Sam had just returned from an early morning run and Sam disappeared to go take a quick shower, but you decided to grab a drink first, so you sauntered into the kitchen. There, you saw Bucky standing in front of the coffee machine, just staring at the appliance, looking hesitant. You were about to ask if he needed help working it before he dumped in more coffee grounds. You were surprised since there was definitely enough for a cup, but you didn’t say anything. Instead, you grabbed yourself a glass of orange juice and sipped on it while eyeing him.

Sam stomped his way into the kitchen and his eyes instantly locked in on Bucky, who was pouring himself a mug of freshly brewed coffee. He set the coffee pot back in place and cleared his throat.

“I accidentally made too much, so help yourself,” he mumbled before breezing past them to sit at the counter.

“Yes!” Sam grinned as he opened up the cupboard for his mug. Your lips curled upwards into a small smile. You knew Bucky didn’t accidentally make too much; he purposely made extra for Sam. You didn’t realize you had been staring at Bucky, but he did, and when you noticed his eyes on you, you tossed him a knowing wink and he immediately ducked his head behind his newspaper.

That was only the beginning. You noticed when he turned the music volume down when he saw Bruce reading across the room from you. You noticed when he silently restocked the freezer with Clint’s favorite popsicles when Tony ate the last one and Clint was looking rather down about it. You noticed when he tossed his throw aside at Wanda, claiming he was too warm, when in actuality, he had seen Wanda shiver just the slightest bit. Each time, you had made it known that you’d caught his act of kindness and every time, he would look away with the faintest pink painting his cheeks.

-

You always expressed how you felt straightforwardly because you didn’t believe in beating around the bush. Today was the day you were going to tell Bucky how you felt towards him. You weren’t sure what to expect, but you had to tell him before you burst because you were sure your heart swelled just a little bit more every time you saw him.

Before you headed to bed, you stopped by Bucky’s room and knocked softly. You heard shuffling behind the wooden door and it swung open moments later, revealing Bucky in a navy blue sweatshirt and gray sweats. He seemed surprised to see you, but quickly recovered and waited for you to speak.

“Hey,” you greeted with a nervous chuckle, in which he replied with a polite greeting of his own.

“I have to tell you something,” you explained slowly.

“Okay,” he said, his eyes flickering down to your fidgeting fingers as he waited for you to continue.

“I like you,” you blurted. You observed as his eyes widened and his mouth opened before closing again.

“Oh,” he finally breathed out. You saw his tongue dart out to wet his lips and his eyes looked everywhere but at you, a habit he had when he was nervous, just like how he would tie his hair up into a bun when he needed to concentrate.

“Don’t worry about it. I just wanted to let you know, you don’t have to respond if you don’t want to,” you reassured him. His shoulders sagged in relief and he nodded. You couldn’t help the disappointment creeping into you when he made no attempt to speak another word.

“Okay, well…” you awkwardly laughed, “I guess I’ll go to bed now. Good night, Bucky.”

“I…” He began, but resorted to bidding you a soft ‘good night’. As you walked back to your room dejectedly, you felt his eyes on you until you heard his door slowly click shut.

The next day, you woke up refreshed and with a new determined mindset. Bucky technically didn’t reject you, but you knew that just because he didn’t say no, doesn’t mean he said yes. So you were going to test the waters. If he looked uncomfortable with your advances, you were going to stop, simple as that.

You slipped an apron over your head and got to work. Within a half hour, you had a nice stack of fluffy looking pancakes and a bowl of fresh fruit on a tray. A quick glance at the time on the stove showed that Bucky was about to come downstairs for breakfast soon, so you hurried upstairs with your delivery.

Taking a deep breath, you adjusted the tray in one arm and knocked on the door with the other. It didn’t take long for Bucky to open the door and it took everything in you to not go ‘awwww’ at the sight. His hair was sticking out in every which way and the overnight stubble made him look extra scruffy. He stifled a yawn as he scratched at his jaw when he finally noticed what you were carrying.

“I made you breakfast,” you grinned. You pushed the tray gently towards him and carefully watched his expression.

“Why?” he cautiously asked, not wanting to come off as rude.

“Because I like you,” you shrugged. His mouth made an ‘o’ shape and there wasn’t a trace of uncomfortableness. If anything, he seemed more in awe at the gesture.

“Thank you,” he gratefully said as he delicately took the tray from you.

Before he could say another word, you piped up, “Enjoy your breakfast!” and headed downstairs to join the rest of the team for your morning meal.

-

And so, it became a routine. Once a week, you would make Bucky breakfast and personally deliver it to his door. Soon, all the Avengers had caught on. It didn’t take long, considering how open you were about your feelings towards the metal-armed soldier. In fact, the only way you could’ve made it more obvious was if you just grabbed Bucky by the collar and kissed him.

You tried to spend as much time around Bucky as possible, causing the others to tease you and Bucky relentlessly, but you didn’t care and surprisingly, neither did Bucky. His face would turn a bright crimson red, but he wouldn’t comment.

-

You had just returned from a three day mission and you were exhausted, but upon entering the Tower, you spotted Bucky sitting in the living room in front of the television playing video games. Instead of retiring to your room and taking a nap like you had planned on doing, you plopped down beside him on the sofa and announced, “Teach me, I wanna play.”

He paused the game and looked at you, surprised. “I thought you didn’t like video games,” he cocked a brow.

“Yeah, but I like you,” you stated matter-of-factly. You picked up a spare controller and began pressing on the various buttons, testing out the touch. He exhaled loudly, almost like a breathy chuckle, and ran his hand through his hair before you nudged him, begging him to teach you.

-

Your day adventures turned into night adventures when you found him sitting outside on the balcony one night. You couldn’t sleep and decided that rather than stare at the ceiling all night, you were going to stare at the stars, that is, if there were any visible in the city. You wrapped a thin blanket around your shoulders and wandered out when you saw his figure practically glowing in the moonlight. Not wanting to startle him, you shuffled your feet noisily over to him and sat down across from him.

“What’re you doing up?” you softly questioned.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he responded just as quietly. “You?”

“Same,” you hummed. “Wanna talk?”

“Sure.”

You weren’t sure exactly how, but you ended up talking to him for over an hour. He mainly listened as you delved into topics about your family and worries and such, but you enjoyed it all the same. Just having him as company was enough.

Before you knew it, you had spent half a year pining after Bucky Barnes and you were starting to feel dejected. He had never once rejected you nor looked uncomfortable at all your romantic gestures, but he’s also never once accepted your feelings and though he was now a lot friendlier with you, you were beginning to feel quite tired; one can only take so much unrequited love, so you began slowly withdrawing yourself.

The weekly breakfast stopped and when you didn’t show up at his door with a tray of food that first week, Bucky made a rare appearance at the breakfast table. He walked over to where you were popping two slices of bread into the toaster and whispered, “You okay?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, why?”

His eyes shifted between yours, as if searching for an answer to a question he didn’t ask, and casually mentioned, “You didn’t bring breakfast today.”

“Oh,” you racked your brain for an explanation, but noted you didn’t actually need to explain anything. “Um, I don’t think I’m gonna be doing those anymore. Sorry, Buck.”

His brows furrowed and you could see in his eyes that he wanted to ask why, but he didn’t, so you walked away with your toast and took your seat next to Steve. You noticed the silence at the table and knew everybody was watching your exchange with Bucky, but you paid them no mind and began eating your breakfast.

Breakfast was uneventful, the only sounds heard were that of chewing and forks clinking against the plates. There was tension in the air, which you knew you were responsible for. Bucky sat diagonally from you and across from Steve, but not once did you glance his way. You finished your food in record time and excused yourself back to your room after placing your dishes in the sink.

When you were no longer present, Steve kicked Bucky under the table and his head jerked up. The rest of the team stilled and turned their head towards the two super soldiers.

“What did you do?” Steve hissed at his best friend. Bucky remained mute and returned his gaze to his plate of food before him, resorting to taking another bite of his scrambled eggs.

-

Throughout the rest of the week, you were all smiles and laughter. You went to the mall with Wanda, the botanical gardens with T’Challa, and even to the space museum with Thor. The others were surprised to see you so cheerful considering the silent treatment you were giving Bucky, but you were never one to let a man ruin your mood, so you forced a smile and went along with your day. Fake it till you make it, right?

By the end of the week, everybody was refusing to hang out with you, claiming they were drained of energy and needed a break, so you went looking for Steve.

You strolled into his open office and found him hunched over stacks of paperwork. A quick knock indicated your presence and he looked up with a tired smile, glad somebody was here to give him a much needed break.

“Hey, Y/N.” He set his pen down and gestured towards the seat in front of his desk as he leaned back into his own chair. “What’s up?”

You sat down and got straight to the point. “I want you to put me on a mission,” you proposed.

He sat up in his chair and shuffled some papers around, flipping through a few packets before putting them down and directing his attention back to you.

“I don’t have any big missions that would require your --”

“It’s okay, just give me anything,” you interrupted hurriedly.

He stared at you thoughtfully before he gave you a small nod and handed you a file. “Serbia. Gather intel, quick in and out.”

You readily accepted the file and stood up. “Thank you.”

Your hand clutched the door handle when Steve spoke. “Y/N… is everything alright?” he asked, his voice hesitant. You swiveled your head around and you saw the evident worry reflecting in his clear, blue eyes.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you answered hastily as you gripped the file in your hand and walked out of his office.

For three weeks straight, you went on mission after mission. You would just return from one before you asked Steve to put you on another. It tired you out immensely, but it also gave you little time to think about him. You hadn’t seen Bucky in three weeks now and every time you thought you were doing better, you would remember the small curve of his lips when he tried to hide a smile or the way the corners of his eyes crinkled during one of those rare moments when he bust out laughing and you were back at square one.

Steve had made it known and was firm on his decision when he told you this would be your last mission for a while. You tried to argue, but it was no use fighting it when the Captain has made up his mind.

You trudged in through the elevator doors, muscles aching and feet dragging on the floor. The sound of the television drew your attention and you saw him for the first time in a month, lying comfortably on the couch with the gaming console in his hand, his fingers moving at a furious speed. A knot formed in the pit of your stomach and you swallowed the lump in your throat before making your way towards your room, hoping you’ll be able to walk past him unnoticed, but no such luck.

When you came into view, Bucky immediately paused the game and sat up on the sofa.

“Hey, stranger,” he softly joked, “haven’t seen you in a long time.”

You stood in place, eyes focused on your feet, and wearily responded, “Hey.”

Bucky reached for the other controller and held it out to you with a hopeful look. “Wanna play with me? I’ll put on your favorite game.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“C’mon,” he urged, thrusting the controller towards you once more. “I thought you liked video games now.”

You locked eyes with him and unwaveringly said, “Not anymore.”

Not waiting for a reply, you plodded past him and to your room. As you neared your living quarters, you heard footsteps thundering behind you and curiosity got the best of you. You looked over your shoulder and found Bucky standing a few feet away from you, chest heaving slightly from the jog over.

“I said I wasn’t in the mood.” Your voice was harsher than you had intended. You shifted your body to look at him and you recognized his signature nervous trait. He swallowed thickly and you saw his Adam’s apple bob while his tongue licked his lips once, then twice.

You waited for him to say something, anything, but he just stared at you, so you shook your head and took a step towards your bedroom.

“I missed you,” he whispered. His voice was so low, so inaudible, that you almost missed it. He continued when you made no move to retreat. “Are you -- are we okay?”

You squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep breath before exhaling slowly. “Bucky, stop.”

“I --”

You plastered on a big smile and spun around to face him. “Everything’s fine, I’m just tired,” you lied. You took a second look at Bucky and knew he didn’t believe a word you had said. You sighed and decided to set the record straight.

“Bucky…”

His ears perked up at his name.

“Let’s just go back to being friends… purely friends.” You bit on your lower lip nervously as you anticipated his reaction.

Those weren’t the words he expected to hear and he took three big steps to close the distance between you two. “What?” he asked incredulously.

“Exactly that,” you shrugged nonchalantly, as if this didn’t mean a thing to you. “I wanna be just friends.”

His jaw set and his teeth clenched, as did his fists by his side. “But you like me.”

Your nervousness immediately translated into anger and your face scrunched up in disbelief at the way he said that. Just because you confessed your feelings to him did not mean, in any way, that you held a certain obligation towards him.

“I do. I do like you,” you said honestly, “but it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Why not?”

“Because!” you shouted in frustration before you lowered your voice. “Because you’re not reciprocating.”

“Please don’t stop,” he mumbled. You blinked at him, unsure of what he meant. “Liking me, I mean,” he clarified with a cough.

“That’s not fair, Bucky,” you half-yelled. “I can’t keep going like this. It’s tiring, I… I’m tired. Sure, I can continue bringing you breakfast every week and I can continue playing video games with you. We can continue our late night talks and our early morning runs, but then what? Where will that get me?”

You felt yourself tearing up and you willed the waterworks away with a quiet sniffle. “I’ve been giving and giving, but at some point, I’m going to need to receive too, and if you can’t do that, you have to let me know, Buck. That way, I can share my love with someone who will return my feelings.”

The hallway was silent and all you could hear was his steady breathing and the heavy thumping of your heart against your ribcage. You’ve said all you wanted to and you weren’t sure what to do now. “Please say something,” you pleaded.

He licked at his lips once more before hooking a finger under your chin to tilt your head up and his soft lips pressed against yours in a gentle kiss. Your entire body froze and when it finally registered in your head what was happening, he had already parted from you.

“I like you,” he finally murmured.

“You do?” You couldn’t help the smile that was slowly spreading across your face.

“Mhm, so damn much,” he hummed as his right hand grasped yours and his thumb lightly brushed along the ridges of your knuckles. “But can we keep things the way they were?”

Your head jerked back in surprise. “I’m sorry?” He didn’t say anything, so you elaborated yourself. “So you like me, but you don’t want to be with me?” Your voice was dripping with hurt and you didn’t bother hiding it.

“Of course I want to be with you! Fuck, do I want to be with you,” he said, exasperated. “But there’s so much more to dating Bucky Barnes and I don’t want you to have to deal with that.”

“Explain,” you demanded, staring him down.

He gave you a warm smile, though his eyes showed nothing but sadness, and his left hand lifted to tuck your hair behind your ears. You shivered slightly when his cold, metal fingers grazed against the side of your face.

“Being with other people… maybe it is just video games and walks in the park, but not with me. I’m the Winter Soldier, for fuck’s sake. You have to put up with my nightmares, my therapy sessions, my arm maintenance, my bad days when I completely shut down, and…” he trailed off. “And there’s the possibility that I might have an episode and hurt you. That’s the last thing I want.”

He brought your right hand to his lips and placed a lingering kiss on the back. “Darling, you deserve the world and I’m just not sure I can give that to you.”

“I’ll be the one to decide that,” you firmly stated. “I’ve trusted you with my whole being since the day I first laid eyes on you. Besides, how will you know what you’re capable of until you try, right?”

With both hands cupping his face, you tugged him to you. Your lips barely brushed his when you leaned back; his closed eyes fluttered open when you withdrew and he gave you a questioning look.

“James Buchanan Barnes, I’d rather go through the bad days with you than good days with anybody else. So what do you say?” You cocked your head at him as a corner of your lips curled up into an anxious smile, the smallest fear tapping at the back of your mind that he’ll say no.

“I say… I like you.” His eyes twinkled with a happy glint and you grinned at him before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a head spinning kiss.

Thoughts and comments?

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