#so im rushing to finish up labs and assigns i also had no warning for because our professor split the class in half

[clownoverrat]

society if my school actually communicated to their students

[commanderquinn]

Good Space Chapter 4: Ya Better Stop

! i dont! keep these posts! updated! like i do! ao3!

that means you're going to find typos and shit (and possibly minor detail changes) that don't match the ao3 version! that's because im not going to bother fixing the tumblr posts until i finish good space as a whole. im only uploading them here as a backup tbh

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master list / ao3 chapter link

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warnings: james buchanan barnes being james buchanan barnes (derogatory) (i HATE him sm u dont even know), theres a lab scene but no bad brain talk i promise

song: sinatra has arrived babes!!! it is time for the golden oldies to begin their invasion 🥰

ava gets first pov this time!! probably a repeating thing, all i know rn is i needed it for narrative flow. remember how i warned you way back that i am in No Rush? this chapter is one of those. no flashbacks, only extra flirting and pining 🤌

ALSO if u are a walker fan (look im not judging. but im not agreeing) im really really sorry but im abt to bully the everloving fuck out of him. i cant stand him. i cant. every possible chance to dunk on him that i find, i will take 👾

—

She hasn't seen Bucky in six days. 

Ava isn't counting. 

But she hasn't seen him in six days.

He's been away on another mission. His first extended one since she took on his case. She was told ahead of time, so she wasn't waiting around for his morning drop-in. JARVIS let her know it would be ongoing and that the sergeant would be unavailable due to the stealth designation. SHIELD has to be the go-between if there's anything that needs to get passed, just like when Paige gets assigned to them. 

His mission status is listed right there in his file. The medical reports from the column marked completed aren't blacked out like they were before. She had to ask JARVIS to reset the file she keeps for Tony when her new settings cleared the privacy wall he keeps. That's how far the copy of Bucky's access extends. 

SHIELD gave him everything. All of their records on known organizations, detailed reports on all globally known assets like the Winter Soldier, internal investigations of SHIELD itself after the near collapse of the organization, all of it. A nauseating amount of the HYDRA portion centers around Zola, unsurprisingly. She would resurrect the monster in a second if it meant giving Bucky some time alone in a room with him. 

After her first night of reading until the tears overwhelmed her, she went to Steve for a debrief of sorts. He confirmed he was the driving force behind SHIELD's full disclosure to Bucky. Natasha was the backup he needed to convince Fury. 

Ava managed to talk the captain into coming to her office for lunch with Paige, mainly as an apology for getting in his face. He's assured her repeatedly in the days since that it's the exact kind of moral standing he was looking for with the case. He doesn't begrudge her anger; he understands it entirely.

For days now, Ava's been trying not to let her eyes skim the vitals being submitted intermittently from the sergeant's ongoing mission. It makes the worry she isn't feeling get worse. In hindsight, setting herself as his primary in the tower might not have been such a great idea. She's been trying not to think about it.

All she's thinking about at the tipping point into his seventh day gone is her favorite Tove Lo album. 

She spins around her lab on enthusiastic feet, dramatically shouting the bittersweet lyrics of stranger with abandon. Her head bangs to the beat, switching to exaggerated flips during the instrumentals. There's seemingly no end of perks when it comes to mortgaging her soul to her billionaire friend and the government organization he works for. Having a state-of-the-art lab to dance around alone in at midnight is pretty high on the list. 

She still hasn't hit her coffee crash of the day, thanks to numerous refills, so she's bouncing by the time the final breakdown of the song hits. Her hair goes wild, her arms thrown up as she jumps to the rhythm. She stops when the music does, giving herself a moment to catch her breath between songs. Her fist is raised high and ready to swing to the beat of bitches as the opening blares, echoing off glass walls that would rattle if they weren't bulletproof. 

Ava is elated as she swings her hips and steadies her head to sing. She fucking loves this song. It makes her feel good. Bubbly. More than a little powerful. The lines flow out of her like water, the words familiar and comforting on her tongue. 

"Know your own love, I don't fuck with no glove," she proudly shouts one of her favorite lines. Her foot slams down on the floor, and she pivots herself around with the momentum of her hips. "So why complicate it? Let me be— "

In one of the most mortifying moments of her life, Ava spots Sergeant Barnes in his not-uniform, standing in the wide open door of her lab. Shock hits her before common sense does, and her first reaction is to cover her mouth. Not attempt to stop the song. The one now loudly carrying into the—god fucking willing—deserted hallway behind him. 

—your guide when you eat my pussy out, Tove Lo's voice continues without her accompaniment. 

Bucky was already watching her with glee, but the words make his head come forward with a shocked laugh. He doesn't bother hiding it, or his smile, behind his hand. Not the way she is with her horrified expression. 

Ava's hand folds with an awkward jerk of her fingers, her eyes still locked with his. "JARVIS! Pause, please!"

—had one or two, even a few. Yeah, more than you.

"Oh really?" Bucky questions loudly in response to the lyrics, his eyes widening even further. She can barely hear him over the music. The smile he's got aimed at her—

"My apologies, Dr. Ryder," JARVIS cuts in without lowering the volume, "but as per your rules, any ongoing music in the lab—" There's joy sitting in the AI's voice; she can hear it. Pure, sadistic joy.

"Now is the worst time for revenge," Ava tries to reason with JARVIS. 

"—cannot be changed without a majority vote. Seeing as you are no longer the majority—"

"JAR!"

"—Sergeant Barnes is now entitled to vote on the matter. Do let me know if you find you require a tiebreaker."

Bucky raises a hand to his chest with nothing but mischief in his eyes. That fucking grin. It's the one she's only seen in photos on Steve's desk. The one powered by a thousand watts that charmed its way through all five boroughs before the draft. It's threatening to knock the breath out of her all over again. "Is it my birthday? Did I get put in cryo on the way back without someone telling me?"

"Bucky Barnes! If you don't cut the shit—" She points an angry finger at him that does nothing to dissuade him. 

"These weren't in your playlists. What's this one called? Maybe I haven't gotten to it—"

Huffing with embarrassed indignance, she gives up trying to pull mercy from either of them. She turns on her heel and heads for her desk to shut off the song manually. In one of JARVIS' oh-so-funny jokes, the window minimizes on the first try. He lets her hit the pause button without interruption on the second attempt. 

"I'm pretty sure I'd remember something like that," Bucky continues in the silence that follows, coming into the lab with confident strides. He's the most impossibly smug bastard. A goddamn terror, that's what he is. She should testify to help throw his ass in jail, but not because of anything to do with Nazis.

"I locked all the dirty ones before I gave you those playlists; sorry to disappoint," she sasses back to regain some ground. "I didn't want to be responsible for giving a dinosaur a heart attack. I'm not sure who'd come after me first, the paleontologists or the cardiologists."

Bucky leans against the other side of the desk she's definitely not hiding behind. With him closing in like this, her nose is picking up the lingering remnants of burned gunpowder. "Mmm. Well. I'm not feeling any pain in my—You know, come to think of it." He glances down at his mechanical shoulder, his eyes taking a bored journey down the shiny metallic arm. The fact that his gear leaves it exposed— "That's probably not going to be a good way to tell anymore."

Her music library might not kill him, but his dry humor is absolutely going to be the end of her. She has to bite her lip for a long moment to hold back a laugh. 

She lets it back out of her teeth. Her cheeks feel like they're on fire. "I'm starting to think you super soldiers have an inclination for ambushing unsuspecting doctors at night."

"It breaks my heart to tell you, it really does, but you got set up for this. And it wasn't even by me. I know. I'm as surprised as you are." His eyes glance down at her outfit while she looks at him in exasperation, the movement fast and deliberate. Mildly tame. More than a few steps up from not taking her bait in the early days of their appointments. "Gotta say, though, I'm enjoying being the linchpin here."

"Set up by who? Steve?" Though the captain had looked appeased after getting to trade shy laughter with Paige, Ava wouldn't be surprised to hear it at all. Given how hard she's been teasing the poor guy lately, she had something like this coming. 

"I believe set up is an exaggeration," JARVIS says far too innocently, making Ava's eyes widen in shock. It reignites Bucky's smile. 

"JAR!" She lets the feeling of betrayal surface in her voice. "How could you?"

"I have done nothing."

"After all we've been through!"

"I merely informed Sergeant Barnes that you were in the building upon his return. He was the one to decide on an early visit."

"Careful," Bucky warns with a chuckle. "She can go check for herself how much suggestion was involved; she's got log permissions now."

"And I'll be using them," Ava threatens with another stern point of her finger, first at the sergeant, then at the security camera mounted on the ceiling. "Don't you two forget that while you're plotting your next attack."

"I haven't plotted anything. Scout's honor." He raises his flesh hand in oath, then frowns, momentarily looking off to the side. When his eyes come back to hers, there's not an ounce of shame in them. Only trouble. The hand stays up. "Alright. I haven't plotted anything with JARVIS."

Ava crosses her arms over her chest, entirely unimpressed now that the shock is wearing off. Her cheeks are taking their sweet time cooling down. "Did you come here for actual medical care, or are you just here to wreak havoc?"

"Definitely the latter. You could probably talk me into the former; you're pretty good at doing that. Might take some effort to convince me this time. I'm fresh from the field—"

"Shut up and get that gun locker you call an outfit out of my way, Barnes."

"That'll work." Bucky has the nerve to wink at her as he pushes up from her desk. It makes her hide behind her hand while she circles back around. She hears his jacket land on the thick glass while she grabs a medkit, reminding her of the accuracy of her teasing. 

"What the hell do you keep in that thing? Chainmail?" He doesn't have to jump to sit on the desk the way she does. It makes Ava want to shove him off of it for a split second. The nerve of this man to be that big. In her lab.

"I can take you on a tour if you want. Don't expect anything too flashy. I keep all the good shit in my end of the world go-bag." 

There's a new bullet wound to be found over his collarbone when he gets his shirt off. She'd been expecting it, thanks to the updates in his files. Seeing flesh already scarred over in less than three days is still jarring. 

He didn't need to come in for that field injury the other week. She already knew that from a logical, medical standpoint. Looking at the proof with her own eyes feels different, though. It makes the heat threaten to return to her cheeks.

"And how often does that one get brought out?" 

"Only a few times a month, don't worry. Things have been pretty calm for a while." For the first time, he turns his head to watch her fingers check the outer edge of his cybernetic shoulder. She's expecting to see unease sitting in his eyes when she looks up. All she finds is peaceful interest. 

"You missed me," Ava softly accuses before she can stop herself. It makes her eyes rush back down to focus on her work. 

"Of course I did." Damn him; there's no hesitation in his answer. "It's been a week without bagels and lollipops. You wanna guess how many jokes I came up with for that ballsack roaming around your house?"

"His name is Oreo, and you will use it with respect."

"Yes, ma'am. The utmost respect for Oreo the Ba—"

"Watch it." She's already made it to his back, so she only gets a side view of the smirk he gives her in response. "In any case, he spends more time roaming around Paige's apartment than my house."

"She stole your cat?" 

"No," she giggles at the seriousness in his voice. "I stay at her place most days of the week. Her dad has an auto shop about fifteen minutes from here, and her apartment is right above it. I live pretty far outside of the city. Even with the way I drive, it's like an eight-hour round trip. That's why I try to leave early on Fridays."

"You only spend three nights a week in your own house?" 

"I did say try. Sometimes—alright, most times, it's less than that. Lucky for me, Oreo doesn't mind hanging out with the grease monkeys while I poke at gray matter."

"I can drop you off."

Ava blinks, her hands pausing while scraping a pick along his shoulder blade. "I—what?" Her brows pull in, trying to figure out where he's going with this latest hard turn. "At the shop? Don't worry about it. I like night drives—"

"No, your house. I can cut that round-trip down to a fuckin' blink whenever you want. The cat can come, too."

"I'm sorry, does the serum give you a roadrunner setting I don't know about?"

"God, no. I prefer to take my t—" The first sign of hesitation surfaces in him as he pauses for a split second. It makes her look up at the back of his head, right at the bun his hair is in. "I was talking about a Quinjet."

He's flirting with her, she realizes. And it's not just a throwaway line this time. He's also trying to offer her the fastest carpool on the damn planet.

"Hang on—back up a step for a minute." She watches his shoulders go stiff, and she panics. He thinks he overstepped, her mind throws at her. Fix it. "I'm still trying to get over the fact that someone gave you a license for a car. Now you're telling me someone lets you behind the controls of a jet?"

The tension is gone from his posture before she even finishes bullying him. "They threaten to revoke the driver's license a lot. Steve and I tend to scare the shit out of people when we get on motorcycles. They only complain about how I fly when I bump Sam mid-air."

"You do not try to—"

"Oh, there's no try about it. I never miss my mark, doc. It really pisses him off." The overwhelming pride in his voice makes her laugh, despite the nerve-wracking image in her head.

Ava swats at his right shoulder, trying to avoid a bruise from the metal one. She learned that lesson the hard way. "You hit your friends with jets?"

"Just that one. It's a love tap. He barely even feels anything. He's got a big fancy Stark suit these days; he'll be fine."

"Where's your big fancy Stark suit? Is Tony withholding it until you let him take you to Vegas?"

Bucky snorts loudly. "He pulled that shit with you, too?"

"Mhmm. There's a veteran's center in West Virginia that has a state-of-the-art walk-in clinic because I let that idiot keep me locked in Caesar's Palace for three days. I've never been so hungover in my life." She's pretty sure it was Pepper's suggestion. An effort to get her out of the house when things first turned rocky with Alec.

"He still hasn't managed to rope me into it. That particular string wasn't tied to the suit offer."

"So what made you pass on a shiny new Stark toy?"

"Have you watched those rackety things in action?" Bucky's head shakes with mild disgust. "No thanks. I prefer being able to control when people hear me." 

"No shit," Ava mumbles with poorly restrained annoyance.

He chuckles and straightens his head up without her having to ask. She's guessing he memorized her path to his neck on the very first cleaning appointment. "You're distracting; you know that? I can't remember the last time I let someone talk me off my point. Which I'm circling back to now. How far's your house in miles?"

The question catches her off guard enough to make her stop again. "You don't know my address?"

"I—shit, I was going to try to assure you I don't know anything about your house that you haven't told me. But that's not... entirely honest."

"I don't mind you knowing the things in my file," she reminds him gently. "I wouldn't have given it to Steve otherwise."

He shifts on the desk slightly. "I might... know some other stuff about it."

The guarded tone makes her snort. She recognizes it well, having lived through a divorce to a Colonel. Gossip moves the fastest in the barracks and the lunches of wives left behind. "Like maybe who I used to live in it with?"

"Like maybe that. And that you've been busy redecorating."

"Mmm, I don't know that you can classify it as redecorating. I did manage to win a few fights about furniture before the divorce. Some of the house was built to my taste. Now all of it is."

"I'm picturing—" Bucky stops again, and she hears a surprised chuckle. "I used to think your deflection didn't work on me."

"I'm not deflecting!" She giggles along with him, trying to focus on where she's got the top of his spine open to the world. "Maybe you're the one throwing off my train of thought. Have you considered that?"

"Here I was thinking it's because no one's taught you the imperial system, and you were too embarrassed—"

"You do understand that the rest of the world makes fun of you guys for using that, correct?"

"You guys, she says. Are you still clinging to your motherland's meters? That's embarrassing, Ryder. Where's your national pride?"

"Take the moose out of Canada, et cetera, et cetera." Ava swaps out for the hydrating wipes she started stocking because of him to clean up her work. The motion reminds her that it's been a while since her last tattoo. It brings out the itch for a new one. "By the way, after I'm done with this, I'm going to walk you back into my office and show you a list of—"

"Here it comes."

"—allll my outrageously expensive degrees."

"Now, how did I guess?"

"That way, the next time you feel like bullying me—"

"I'm certainly starting to enjoy it."

"—you can remember that I'm actually way smarter than you."

"I don't doubt that for a second, doll."

The—petname makes her smile wide enough to hurt. The way his voice dips as he says it lights her cheeks on fire. Again. "Good. There's hope for you yet."

"So I've been told." He says it so nonchalantly. Usually, she can anticipate the gallow's humor reflex. Usually.

"You break my heart sometimes; you know that?" She moves her fingers over his flesh shoulder in sympathy. The fact that he can't feel anything in the mechanical one makes her irate. 

"Sounds like someone had fun reading." With her hands safely off his neck, Bucky turns his head to give her a sideways look. "How many new questions did it bring?"

The look she gives him in return is almost sheepish. "Steve answered most of them; you don't have to worry about it."

"Most." Bucky's eyebrow raises momentarily. "Lay 'em on me. That's why I gave you the clearance."

Ava's trying very hard to respect the choice. She leans forward, her free hand coming up to brace on his other shoulder. There's something contemptible about getting this far into the man's personal space, especially while he's shirtless in an exam. But the idea of not offering up the human contact while he's tearing open a wound that raw—especially while he's shirtless in an exam—makes her sick to her stomach. 

Bucky doesn't seem to mind the proximity. Or the touch.

"Okay," she replies gently, trying to avoid putting any rejection in her tone. "I think we should wait until a reasonable hour, though. Next appointment?"

He looks down at his lap. "I think that's a great idea. You look like you need sleep. How about we talk about it when I come to pick you up from your house tomorrow morning?"

Ava stutters around a laugh, backing up from him once again. "I haven't agreed to anything; nice try."

"I didn't say you did. I'm pushing for an answer to a question you deflected; there's a difference."

"I did not defl—why am I trying to argue with a spy." 

"I don't know. It'd be a lot easier if you—"

"You're not picking me up for work in a jet, you lunatic. I like driving."

"Is it because it gives you extra time to listen to Lady Wood?" The smug bastard has the nerve to pause, giving her a chance to think of a response to his ambush. She is, unsurprisingly, unsuccessful. "Which one do you like better, phase one or phase two?"

"You said you didn't recognize them!"

"I didn't." His hand comes up over his shoulder, showing her his phone. There's a webpage open detailing Tove Lo's entire discography—her writing credits included. "Google did."

"Someone gave you internet privileges?"

Bucky turns enough to look her in the eyes, unbearably pleased with himself. "It's so helpful."

Finally giving in to the urge to remove him from her desk, Ava shoves at his naked shoulders. Six-and-a-half feet of super serum doesn't move unless it wants to, so he doesn't exactly go anywhere with the force of it. But it does make him laugh and stand back up, so she counts it as a half-win. 

"You gonna answer my new question? Or do I have to do the diploma tour first?"

"Who says you'd even get the answer then?" She crosses her arms over her chest and smirks up at him. "I've been through a divorce. You'll have to try a lot harder than that for me to fall for a loophole."

The six-and-a-half feet of super serum actually turns bashful on her. Bucky's eyes take on a bit of guilt, and his grin loses most of the mischief. "Sorry. Professional hazard. I did warn you I'm fresh from the field. It takes a day or two to reset the headspace."

"You're lucky I don't mind it," she offers to try to reassure him. His heart is the last in the world that she would doubt. "I missed you, too, you goddamn terror."

That thousand fucking watt smile hits her at full force. Seeing it on Bucky's face is almost worth giving him the crushing amount of ego it takes to power it. "Show me those degrees you earned so I can get back to hearing about your music."

Ava rolls her eyes, returning to the medkit to clear it from her desk. "I'll text you the list; how about that?"

"You don't have to send me the playlist links again; you can just unlock the dirty ones. I'll find them from there."

"I meant the—" She stops to ball up one of the wrappers from the hydrating wipes and throws it at him. He catches it mid-air before it hits his bare chest. "I meant the degrees, you degenerate."

He scoffs. "Big talk for a woman dancing to pussy eating mu—"

"Is there something else you need?"she stresses with a nervous burst of laughter. He's awful. Horrendous. She missed him so much that it's ridiculous.

On his end, Bucky doesn't miss a beat. "Yeah, my lollipop. You know, I bet I can guess which album you like better. I bet I can guess your favorite song from each one, too."

She points a finger at him without looking up from the medkit. "If you say disco tits, I'm making you sit through post-McCarthy retrospective documentaries just to decondition you."

"I'd be alright with that. But you'll still have to look me in the eye knowing it's in your top three." Even if she can't see him, she can hear him smile when her finger goes back down. "That's what I thought."

"Maybe I'm just out of things to throw at you."

"Blue Lips was the album you had on. Great name, by the way. Let's start with your favorite from that, which we've already established isn't disco tits. If you tell me that it's one of the sad ones, you're gonna break my heart."

"You don't have any favorite sad songs?" She's not... entirely deflecting. The comment just sparked her interest.

"Plenty. But now I know that's not the real answer."

"Jesus," Ava mutters with a huff of laughter. "Remind me to shut my mouth if you ever suspect me of a crime."

"I'm usually the guy people call to break out of prison. Might wanna keep that in mind if this whole doctor thing doesn't work out. That said, it's adorable that you keep trying to pin law-abiding qualities on me. You shouldn't mention the theory around the Avengers; they will laugh you out of the room."

Ava bites her lip again. She's out of tasks to stall with. He caught her as she was technically packing up for the night, and the medkit never takes much to put away. Turning to face him, she puts one hand on her hip and leans on the desk with the other. "Some people would classify it as a sad song."

Bucky folds his arms, his legs adjusting to widen his stance. He wasn't kidding about the sergeant mode. "Your favorite from the second album? What do you classify it as?"

She hesitates. Giving him the first word that comes to mind would give away the song too easily. "I... I don't know. I don't find longing sad, personally." He doesn't immediately reply. Most of the mirth has faded, and he's watching her intently. "What? You're telling me the moody spy disagrees with the sentiment?"

He blinks and takes a deep breath in, shaking his head slightly. She catches sight of a hard swallow that makes her nervous, but then he smirks at her. So, one of his introspective moments, then. "No, I agree with it. Do you want me to wait until you hand over my lollipop to give you the answer?"

"You have not guessed it already."

"You're right; I haven't. I've already figured it out. But we can pretend I didn't for a little while to make you feel better."

Ducking her head to hide a smile, Ava turns to walk into her office. She barely resists the urge to point another accusing finger at him. "You're lucky I think your ego is charming. Otherwise, I'd be tempted to withhold the gift I got you."

"You got me a gift?" The surprise in his voice softens his tone.

"I did, so you should stop bullying me long enough to receive it."

"Yes, ma'am. I'm on my best behavior for the rest of the night. What'd you get me?" He wasn't following behind at first, but he is now, and he's closing in on her fast. 

"Well, you said you liked my puns, so—"

"Now that's an outright lie. I've told you they're terrible—"

"Which means you really like them. I wanted to give you one to have whenever you want, wherever you want." Ava stretches over her desk, not bothering to walk all the way around it. It takes some digging in her top drawer to find the little blue box she painted. When she turns back to look at him, his eyes are moving around the office. "Here. Use it in good health."

Bucky looks back and takes the box into his hand, a small smile coming up. It stretches across his entire lower face as he gets it open and spots what's nestled inside. "This is the worst one yet."

"Thank you," she replies proudly. "It's one of my favorites."

His cybernetic hand reaches into the box and clinks against the miniature rectangle when he picks it up. He turns it around to look at the back and snorts. "It's a pin."

"Like I said. You get to put it wherever you want, whenever you want."

"So, you won't fly with me, but you'll fly with me—"

The words pull a startled laugh from her. "Oh my god, did you just try to make a pun?" He doesn't respond, looking down at the pin to smile at it some more. She folds her arms around herself, less in defense and more in comfort. "I didn't say I wouldn't fly with you. I really do like driving. It's soothing."

Bucky nods slowly. He walks over to her desk, getting in close while he puts the box down. Turning the pin over in his hands, he pulls the backing off. He tosses the gigantic tactical vest onto the glass surface, then tucks his hand under the dark leather to line up the tiny, glossy pun. 

Right there. On his not-uniform. Just off to one shoulder. Toward the metal arm.

It almost brings tears to her eyes to watch. Her throat tightens up, but she can't bring herself to break the silence by trying to clear it.

"You're going to have to get me replacements when it gets shot off," he jokes quietly. She's pretty sure it's a joke.

"That's fine." Her voice isn't all the way steady. But it's most of the way there. She might have gotten away with playing it off if he wasn't the world's most well-trained assassin. "I put everything on the card Tony gave me for work, anyways. I'm hoping the accountants don't notice. Nobody really hands me a paycheck around here, so."

Bucky tugs his skin-tight undershirt back on. It makes the dork look like he's about to put on a scuba suit. "Have you seen what he buys? I think you're in the clear on that one." He leans down and thumbs at the pin now secured to his vest, making that soft metallic clink rise up again over and over. It sounds like the rhythm of a heartbeat. "Thanks, doll."

—

"Why am I looking at the file of a grunt?"

"He's not a grunt."

"He's a level four."

"He's in charge of away teams; that's not a grunt. Plus, he's got like two medals of honor or something."

"Three. What's that supposed to prove anyways? Every Howlie there ever was had one—me included—and we were a buncha drunk dipshits who couldn't tell our ass from a campfire most nights. SHIELD pulled this kid from the military to run errands. What are we doing here, Steve?"

"I didn't ask you to be here. You showed up. And I am handling a problem before it starts." He sees Steve frown out of the corner of his eye. "Responsibly. With facts, not assumptions."

"What problem? Miserable leadership reviews? He'll filter out on his own—"

"That's the kind of attitude that let HYDRA tarnish Peggy's legacy."

The unwavering tone makes Bucky look up from the file on his tablet long enough to give his friend a sidelong glare. "You're so full of shit."

Steve turns to face him in his signature cranky captain stomp. "You wanna run that by me again, asshole?"

"That might be the reason you're sinking your teeth into him, but that's not why we're here. You wanna fess up now or wait for me to find it myself?"

Steve turns back to the one-way glass in front of them and shifts his weight irritably. His arms flex where they're crossed over his chest. A century-old geezer, and he's pouting. "There's nothing to find. I'm doing my job as a level eight."

Bucky's head falls back, and his eyes roll with exaggeration. "Oh my god, if you ever get held hostage, we are so completely fucked. Every state secret this country has is gonna be up for grabs—"

"Once again, I don't remember asking you to be here."

"No, you asked Nat, which was your first mistake. She's even more suspicious, but she's not going to tell either of us what she's figured out in the last twelve hours. Not until it suits her." He looks back down at his tablet pointedly, his voice heading towards mockery. "So, if you don't mind, I'd like to get caught up before the show starts. I hate being distracted during her warm-up swings."

"Yeah, well. I don't care what Nat knows."

Bucky's laugh starts as a chuckle, building higher until it echoes off the glass. "Oh, maaan. So, it's something she's already made fun of you for, and you're gritting your teeth through it. Was he a dick to that lady at the cafeteria? The one who always gives you an extra dessert without charging you?"

"No. I don't know what he does in his down—" Steve pauses, another frown of reconsideration coming up. "JARVIS, can you forward me—"

"Agent Romanoff has already requested I evaluate the security footage of Agent Walker's public interactions within the tower," the AI responds calmly. "She did not find anything of to be of worthy note."

"Hey there, JARVIS. Long time no—hear. Exactly how many grudges are you focused on tonight?" With his head down at this angle, Bucky can see his new pin reflecting the light from the other room in his peripherals. Right next to his shoulder that just got cleaned by his favorite hippie. God, he's in a good fucking mood at the moment.

"I do not hold grudges. I am merely doing my job as a level JARVIS."

Bucky snorts loudly. Steve looks up at the ceiling in exasperation.

"Your jokes are getting worse," the captain accuses. "It's Banner's fault, isn't it?"

"I believe it is the influence of the tower's other pacifist, Dr. Ryder. Her humor is rather snappy, as Sergeant Barnes can attest."

"Don't let her hear you call it humor," Bucky argues with all the sincerity he can muster. "The last thing that woman needs is justification for her verbal crimes."

"What's that thing on your vest, then?"

The sound of Natasha's voice makes Steve jump. Bucky catches his reaction just in time to stop it. 

"Jesus fucking Christ," Steve swears under his breath.

"Language, Rogers," Bucky and Natasha hit him with simultaneously. He's hoping jumping on it with her will distract her from—

"That little strip of tin and enamel sure looks like enabling behavior to me."

Damn. It was a long shot to begin with.

"Ava put something on your vest?" Steve's head is getting in his space now, trying to look around to find what Bucky definitely isn't angling to hide. 

"I put it there," Bucky corrects briskly. "To shame her."

"Where is it?" 

"Fuck off." He shoves at his best friend's hands as they come for his shoulders, trying to stop the effort to rotate him. He's unsuccessful. 

"What is that—is that a pin? Quit struggling, shithead; just let me see. What's it say—oh my god."

"Shut up."

"I can't see it real well. Read it to me," Natasha requests calmly. Bucky can hear her blowing on a cup of coffee while he continues to struggle with his best friend.

"Shut the fuck up—"

"It says I bee leaf in you," Steve answers, his voice going obnoxiously high. The asshole is smiling from ear to ear. There's even moisture starting to build in his eyes. "With a little cartoon bee! And a leaf!"

Bucky knew this was coming. He knew it was coming. He was just hoping it would be during the next mission, not here in the tower. Somewhere he could shoot at both of them to make them shut up without having to go to HR for an incident report. Getting Ava's worst pun yet is, apparently, the only good thing the universe is going to grant him this week. 

Alright. That new round of painful tactical analysis when she was bent over her own desk trying to find it for him was pretty nice, too. So was watching her dance like that. She's—distractingly nimble. Not much can kill him these days, but the sight of her without a lab coat on keeps coming pretty damn close.

"Now, isn't that precious?" The savage joy in Natasha's voice makes Bucky want to throw his tablet at her. 

"I'm shaming her. Making her look at her crimes."

"Don't you go to her office in fatigues?"

"Are you gonna switch it to those when you go see her?" Steve's voice is still too high. He's close enough for Bucky to swing at, so he does, with a solid hook to his shoulder.

"No. I picked it for my gear. I'm not going to move it."

"You picked the spot?"

"Have you cleaned your ears this month? I'm shaming her—"

"Bucky, that's so—"

"Shut up. "

"—sweet. I can't believe—bee leaf!" The dumbass pauses, stumbling over his own stupid laughter. "She got you a pun pin. Did she paint this?"

"I—" Bucky freezes. He didn't think to ask. She'd been pretty choked up after he picked a spot by his left arm. He wanted to give her room, especially after hounding her about taking her home. "I don't know. She painted the box it came in, though."

"Did you keep it?"

He crosses his arms defensively. "Of course I did. She painted it for me. I'm not fucking rude."

"Can I see it?"

"Absolutely fucking not." He shoves at Steve's shoulders, forcing him back. "What's he hiding, Nat?"

She snorts, still not having moved an inch from the back wall. "What, you think I've finished with you?"

"You tell me. What sounds more fun—"

"I feel like this pin thing is pretty serious," Steve tries to argue.

"Trying to pry another reaction out of me or batting Stevie around—"

"Nat, come on, this is a big change—you agree with me—"

"—while you wait for Wakeman—"

"Walker," Natasha corrects before going for another sip of coffee.

"Poster Boy to finish sweating," Bucky finally gets out.

She takes her time enjoying her drink while they both watch her anxiously. When her eyes open back up, she looks tired but pleased. "You should check his away missions."

"Aww, come on—you're about to go in there and leave me to deal with him alone," Steve complains like the giant baby he is.

"Maybe if you bee leaf in him, he won't ridicule you."

"Shut up," Bucky grumbles, already pulling up Agent Walkman's recent away missions. He'll start there, then branch out. His best friend is being a lot more defensive than usual, so it's something good.

"Actually, check his eval for me. I haven't decided how hot I'm going in. Give me your read."

Without hesitation, Bucky does as she asked, opening up the errand boy's medical records to skim the psych evaluation. He gets why Natasha's asking. Sitting in the headspace of someone who breaks people without laying a finger on them gets loud sometimes. It can get hard to remember where the line is. He's not going to deny her the request for a check-in. Not ever. Not with how often she does it for him.

He shrugs at the end of his check, finding nothing out of the ordinary. "He's never been confronted with failure in his life. I'm assuming that's the play?"

"Mhm."

"Hammer it."

"No reservations?"

Bucky snorts. "What's your reservation? You worried about making a West Point brat cry?"

"Nah. Only wanted a second read of the land." He hears Natasha's back crack in a couple of places as she pushes off the wall, proving she's been there for a while. Little shit probably snuck in behind him when he came in and waited. "Thanks. Have fun, boys."

Steve waits until she shuts the door behind her to offer up a bribe. "I'll drop the pin commentary if you close that file."

"You make this too easy."

"I'm serious. I won't say another word about it."

"Yeah, you'll just wind Sam up to do it for you. Is it because his team got paired with Coulson's? Don't make me read through whole logs to find this. It's just going to make it worse when I do."

"You're going to be disappointed when this turns out to be nothing. I'm just doing my job, Buck." 

On the other side of the one-way glass, the door to the interview room Waldorf is already sitting in opens. Natasha walks in, her head down and her eyes skimming over the file she definitely had memorized before she got here. It makes the level four who's been waiting on someone for—Bucky's eyes flick over to the timer kept on the wall to document interviews—two hours and nineteen minutes sit up in his chair.

"Agent Romanoff," Wilbur greets her. Bold choice, trying to start them off on equal footing. "Good to finally—"

"Name?" Natasha immediately knocks his dick in the dirt with.

"Oof," Steve mutters, sounding far too pleased. It raises Bucky's suspicion level another notch.

"Ah—John Walker," he answers, his posture shifting as the professional stick goes rigid in his ass. How so very boring.

Bucky's hoping Natasha provides some fireworks here because otherwise, he wasted the trip. The effort had mainly been about harassing Steve for a few minutes after a long week without having the chance to. He could be up in his room right now, bullshitting himself that he's a good enough man to not beat off to the thought of the good doctor again. For the half-dozenth time. The words she was singing at the top of her lungs sure as shit aren't going to help his efforts to be a gentleman tonight. At all.

"Right." Natasha drops the tablet on the table, letting it impact heavily. She leans over it to type in a few details as if adding him to a list. "Tell me why I'm here, Walker."

The agent hesitates. Strike two. "I'm not sure, to be honest with you. I got the call; I went where I was told." 

Of course he did, Bucky thinks bitterly. That's what they taught us.

"How long have you been sitting here?"

"Well—I can't give you exact timing without checking in with JARVIS." He pauses again, no doubt waiting for the AI to take the opportunity to assist. When nothing follows, Watson's face falls, and he tries for a quick recovery. He pulls a recruiter-pamphlet-smile directly from his ass. "I know it's somewhere around the two-hour mark. Sorry, I was catching up on some paperwork. I wasn't paying much attention to the clock—"

"Do you normally have to catch up on paperwork?" She's still typing away while she lays her first trap, still refusing to sit. Lining the guy up on her razor's edge.

"I would hope it's as often as my fellow agents. Knowing my tendency to put it off, it's probably not as—"

"You don't know their work ethic enough to say definitively?"

Steep jump from competency to teamwork. Then there's the silent implication that he fucked up the competency question by going for the casual humor of someone being offered a job. That's a heavy floodlight she's pointing at his ego. Bucky is more than willing to count this as fireworks now.

"If we're talking about people I work with regularly, I absolutely do. But, no, I can't say that I know how I compare to—"

"I didn't ask how you compare. I asked if you know your teammates well enough to do so."

Whitman is trying his damndest to keep that smile on his face. There's frustration building behind it, and Bucky can spot the expectation of a test in his eyes. "In that case. I can only tell you about the people I work with the most often. They tend to be better at submitting their paperwork on time, ma'am."

"Romanoff or Agent Romanoff." Natasha's never given a shit about what title people use for her; Bucky knows that. But she sure does love to use it as a tool. "Tell me about these incident reports I'm looking at."

Some of the color drains from the agent's face. "Sorry, what incident reports are we—"

"The ones right here, from your first, second, and fourth deployment." Natasha looks up, finally making eye contact. "Why the radio silence during the third? Boring post?"

"I…. Those are—Nothing of any kind of significance has ever been on my record—"

"I don't need an official military record. SHIELD keeps the field notes from your former superiors." In a move she had to have pre-planned given how flawlessly it's executed, Natasha unzips the jacket she walked in wearing. She shakes off the heavy leather, showing the civies she's got on under it. No uniform, giving the implication that this late-night interview is out of the blue. And a personal favor. "You made quite a few friends on that ladder."

"A few." The confidence in Walter is wavering. The expectation of this being a lateral kind of test isn't front and center in the man's expression. He's trying to find a rock in quicksand. 

"Tell me about them." 

Bucky tunes out, looking back down at the tablet in his hands. She'll be hunting for ammunition for a while. People the kid respects, positions he was passed up for, grudges—professional or otherwise—to pick at, et cetra. Most of it she'll already know on her end. All of it she'll use against him.

After a minute of droning from the errand boy, he catches sight of Steve's arms unfolding from his chest, his hands tucking into his pants pockets. "So. A late appointment, huh? Was that Ava's request?"

"Nice try, asshole," Bucky grumbles. "I've been gone a week. I told JARVIS to let her know she could call me in whenever. He let me know she was still in the building." Shrugging, he skips to the next mission in Winston's history. "I went so she knows I'm taking this seriously. She offered. I accepted."

"And then she gave you a bee."

"And then she gave me a bee."

"A very cute bee."

"Shut. Up."

"Okay." He sees Steve rock back and forth from the corner of his eye. It makes him skim the mission details faster. He's gotta find the lead before— "Is it because she's divorced?"

"What?" He looks over at Steve in genuine shock. "Why the hell would that matter?"

"Maybe because of who she used to be married to."

"You think I'm intimidated?" Bucky scoffs, insulted. He could rise to that level of expectation—if he wanted to. And there's not a shot in hell that this Alec prick is any kind of a threat. 

"By the idea of going out with a civilian woman who just left a career soldier?" The way Steve phrases it makes him freeze in place. "Yeah, Buck, I think that'd be a little intimidating."

Bucky, somewhat slowly, looks back at his tablet. That—it hadn't occurred to him. That particular angle. About Ava and—other expectations she might have when it comes to him.

You'll have to try a lot harder than that for me to fall for a loophole.

Bucky has a lot of self-awareness; he knows how hard he is to deal with. He tried backing off whenever it felt as if he was going too far in her office. She had picked up the other end of the bait every time, and everything seemed good. The Totalitarian jokes she throws at him are only jokes; she wouldn't give him the time of day if they weren't. 

But it's not hard to figure out that they're rooted somewhere deep. Somewhere real. She's big on boundaries. She's gravely serious about consent. Those aren't the kind of qualities people hold that high without motivation. Personal motivation.

Giving her full access was the right call. Bucky's wholeheartedly convinced of it on multiple fronts.

"It's not like that," he assures, keeping his voice serious. "There's no plan here. No intentions, either. She puts up with me. I'm trying not to make that a miserable experience for her."

"Sure."

"Fuck off."

"Don't you mean buzz off?" There's no hesitation in Bucky's movements as he swings the tablet off to the side to nail his best friend in the arm with. "Oww!"

"You had it coming. Stop laughing before the grunt hears you, stupid."

The chuckles coming from Steve taper off until it's just snickering. "I think it's sweet."

"So you've said." Bucky tries to work up the nerve for his next question. It takes a few minutes of watching Natasha play with her food. "How pissed was he?"

The silence that followed Steve's snickering gets broken by his snort. "Well, his head didn't actually explode, but, you know, pretty damn pissed."

"Sorry."

"You don't have to be."

"It took a lot for you to—"

"Yes. It did. It took more than even you know, and Nat's made sure you'll never find out exactly how much." Steve looks over and doesn't say anything. Not until Bucky has the nads to meet his gaze. "And the whole point of it was to put it in your hands. That comes with the expectation that you'll use it as you see fit. It's not your problem that Fury likes to selectively forget he agreed to that."

"That doesn't mean it should have to be yours. I'm the one that handed it off to a civilian without asking for—"

"You shouldn't have to ask. That was the whole point." Bucky looks away, but Steve doesn't relent. "We wouldn't have put in the effort if we weren't willing to back it up over time."

"I can sit in for a meeting this time."

"I'm not going to tell you no." Of course he won't. Steve never does. Not when it's something like this. "But I am going to remind you that the two of you have conflicting buttons. More importantly, you don't need to."

"I know. I want to. It's not about—This isn't a challenge for me." He pauses, trying to decide on a way to phrase it. "I'm not looking to win a fight. I want to explain."

"Alright. Spending a week in the doghouse without complaint probably won you some leniency." There's pride sitting in Steve's voice. 

It almost makes Bucky avoid bringing up the other thing eating him alive. He could handle it himself behind the scenes. He could even tell Ava to keep it to herself when he eventually fills her in. 

But honesty is a two-way street.

"I got a question I gotta ask you," he starts off gently. It's the worst way—Steve's going to pick up on something being wrong and get worried. But Bucky can't think of an alternative.

"Shoot." Yeah. Yeah, there's the nerves surfacing in his voice. 

"When you taught her the code—" His best friend's posture stiffens in his peripherals. It makes him switch to treating this like a bandage to rip off. "What language did you teach it to her in?"

Steve's head turns at a speed that looks dizzying, even for their equilibrium. "That only matters if she says it in the right—you're kidding. What the hell—what were you two even talking about that—"

"It wasn't like that," Bucky stresses, hearing the suspicion creeping in. "We were talking about music. She was telling me she doesn't find it sad."

"Jesus," Steve whispers. He follows it up with about a dozen other curses under his breath. "I'm sorry, Buck, I—"

"I know. I'm not looking to blame you. It's happened with other people before; you know that. And it's not like I suspect her of anything. I just—"

"Yeah, no, checking makes complete sense. No one would fault you for that. Did you talk to her about it yet?"

"I'm not planning on talking to her about any of it at the moment."

"Bucky. You can't just—she has to know, she's made that clear—I should have told her from the start—"

"I'm not saying I'm keeping her in the dark forever. I'm saying I'm not telling her right now."

Steve goes quiet again, and Bucky can practically hear the cogs turning in his brain. "I can talk to her about it."

"No."

"It's not like she'd have an issue with pretending it didn't happen—"

"I don't want to pretend it didn't happen." The words come out a lot more forceful than he intended.

"Okay." Steve's not being condescending. There's no dismissal in his tone. He reached a boundary Bucky's made and didn't take offense to it.

A year ago, Bucky wouldn't have been able to handle so much as bringing something like this up. He would have internalized every last part of it. Three years ago, Steve would have questioned him on a hard line like this being drawn. And then gone and done everything without asking, leaving Bucky to feel like an infant.

Not even a few weeks ago, Bucky would have bitten the head off of a level four analyst just because he can't get any decent sleep.

"I felt human again for a minute," he admits quietly. He curls his head in like a fucking coward, using his hair as a heavy curtain to block the view of his best friend. "She said it, and I got to come back down from it, and she didn't know. I'll tell her. I just want to wait until she's had long enough to forget she said it."

He doesn't want to give up how good it felt to flirt with Ava. To feel that warmth and hear that soothing melody. To sit in it all for a minute and let himself live. To be a bastard chasing after a girl way out of his league the way he used to, even if he knows it won't ever go anywhere. To forget, for just a handful of minutes, that he was ever made into a monster.

A couple more weeks of bothering her in the mornings. That'll be enough time for her to forget what words she used tonight. Then he'll have Steve give her the code in every language she speaks.

"That sounds like a good plan." The words don't sound like bullshit with the way Steve's voice stays rock fucking solid in its support. "You wanna... maybe talk about what led to it—"

Bucky straightens his head back up with a long inhale, moving his hair out of the way once again. "I don't know, Steve. Do you want me to try to go to bed for the next three hours, or do you want me to keep reading mission logs?"

"...I hope you get some good rest."

"That's what I thought."

"I'll see you in the morning. We've got that weapons brief—"

"I know."

"—so don't forget—yeah, okay, yup. You already know."

Locking his tablet and heading for the door, Bucky rolls his eyes. "When she comes in for a refill, remind her to run the mom test."

"Will do. Goodnight, Buck."

"Goodnight."

He's almost tempted to check in with JARVIS about Ava. Then he remembers that he doesn't have to do that.

Stepping onto the only elevator leading to the Avengers floor, he pulls his phone from his back pocket and opens their texts. He smiles down at the last picture of Ava's dumbass cat that she graced him with before he got sent out on punishment. There's a miniature, painted straw hat sitting on his bald little head.

Did the moose make it across the road okay? he types out. It takes three tries to force himself to hit send.

Bucky slides his phone back into his pocket. This is the latest he's ever sent her a message. God willing, she's got her ringer off. There's no way she's not in bed by now; it's nearly 0200. If he finds out this woke her up, he'll feel awful. He didn't exactly say he was going to be checking up on her.

Now he's worried he shouldn't have. Back in the day, it would have been second nature to make a quick call once he got back to his own place. He can't tell if that's the polite thing to do in this case or if it's too—

Bucky's phone vibrates against his left ass cheek not even thirty seconds after he put it there. He's got it back in his hand, held up to his face, in less than two.

see! you love my puns. and i am not currently roadkill! bonus points, reads her reply text. 

He grins down at his phone like a fucking idiot. When Natasha eventually finds the security footage, and she will, he's not even going to be mad about being bullied for it.

Before he can type a reply, she hits him with another. dont g-men have bedtimes?

Yes, ma'am. The government just doesn't have the budget to implement them, he sends back.

This texting thing is a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, he gets to talk to her without having to work up the nerve to call her. On the other, he can't see how much that made her smile.

Not having the face-to-face usually doesn't bother Bucky. Then again, he usually doesn't text outside of work, so that's probably got something to do with it.

She sends back a laughing emoji rapid fire, then those three little dots dance for a minute while she goes back to typing. are you even allowed to make those kinds of jokes? doesnt SHIELD pay your phone bill?

Probably. I haven't bothered asking.

about the permission or the bill?

Both.

He gets another laughing emoji. go to bed, idiot. you looked like you were ready to fall over in my office. believe it or not, your brain needs this funny thing called SLEEP.

Sleep well, doll. Bucky's finger hovers over the send button, but he doesn't hit it. 

He used the word in her office. It slipped out on accident the first time. The second time had been a check-in that she didn't seem to scorn. That might have been because she was choked up. Having to read it now makes the word feel heavier. Too heavy.

He hits the backspace to change it out for doc instead at the last minute. The send button is a lot easier to hit after that. He's banking on the fact that the choice didn't take long to make. Maybe, just maybe, she didn't notice.

you too, she signs off with. 

Bucky doesn't move as the elevator doors open in front of him. He keeps his eyes locked on his phone. Focused right on the little heart emoji she put after the last word.

A slow, shy smile starts to creep up on him. He steps off the elevator, walking distractedly to his room to try to catch a REM cycle or two. It's still there on his face as he strips out of his gear, thinking about the doctor. It doesn't fade, even as he tosses his comforter, blanket, and lone pillow onto the floor.

He manages to be a gentleman that night. Mainly because he falls asleep listening to her playlist titled chill sketching before his hand can find any trouble. 

—

u wanna know why the howlies couldnt tell their ass from a campfire most nights? its bc their asses fell INTO the campfire most nights. god i fucking love those idiots. i REALLY wanna do some howlies fics at some point (and i kinda want it to be a biker!au if im honest. i could undo the trauma SoA put me through by making comfort fics abt big biker man and his lil doc 🥺)

anyways there IS a reason i go so hard on discount cap, its not just bc he smells and i hate him. i have a hc for bucky’s opinion on dudes like him thatll get brought up at some point, youll see. it got pretty heavily hinted at in this chapter

also, other quick hc, if natasha romanoff were to be given the big boy serum and a lil sippy sip from the fountain of youth, the galaxy would be safe literally forever. we wouldnt need any more super heroes, everyone could retire. no one can convince me otherwise 😤

im (kind of) up and running on tumblr!! same handle, i reserved it when i got this act. ignore how bare bones the chapter posts are, ill make fancy formatting and graphics later. the initial wave was a panic back up when i realized im not saving these anywhere after posting and ao3 shut down for a few days lmao

i WILL put in a real effort to go track down blogs to follow and add other stuff at some point, pinky promise!! if you wanna find me for mutual fandom screaming, thats where ill be babes 💖🥰 im 98% sure i remembered to set up all the anon stuff properly for anyone thats Shy ❤️ you are more than welcome to submit requests 💞 ill make a pinned post abt it at some point

[rorynne]

Time Lost (Rewrite) Ch 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader

Summary: An accident during a mission sends you back in time to the second world war. There you enlist the help of Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers, and Bucky Barnes to find the object that can send her back.

Warnings:  Alcohol, Drinking, Implied sexual harassment, Face punching.

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: This is a rewrite of an OC fic that I have been writing and been wanting to turn into a reader Fic. Im unsure if I will be continuing the OC fic currently, I may just transfer it completely to my reader Fic. Currently 6 chapters are up of the OC fic, and I shall be posting a rewritten chapter every few days on here.

Masterlist

Prologue Ch 1

Being back in London was almost nostalgic to you now. It felt like so long ago that you took your first trip down the elevator to the SSR base. You looked over the maps Steve drew looking for any hint of where the bell might be. Everyone else’s focus may have been on wiping out hydra, but you wanted to go home. Living through the ’40s might be good fun, but you had no intention of living through the ’50s.

You sighed, sitting back in your chair. Your notes and documents had led you to Paris, so logically, it would be best to try the French hydra base first. But your gut said it should be somewhere more defendable, pointing towards a German base. Especially after Steve took down the facility in Austria. You knew that they were going to take down every base, history told you that, so it didn't truly matter. but damn it, you wanted progress on the Bell.

Peggy watched you agonize over the documents for the umpteenth time. The way you threw yourself into your work always worried Peggy. You were rash and quick to act, and combining that with your tendency towards workaholism, you were either going to work yourself sick, or get yourself killed. Or both. You worked like you were running out of time. Only Col. Phillips seemed to have any power to slow you down. “Well?” Peggy finally broke the silence.

“Logically, France is out best bet. I could have myself planted into that town in a week. But if the Captain’s team is going to be shipped out any time soon, then I should be sent to Germany, they’ll probably take down the French and Italian bases before I’m even able to get settled.” You said, poking at the map.

Peggy crossed her arms, “Captain Rogers’ team won't be shipped out for a few months yet.”

You looked up at Peggy, “What?”

“They need to be trained before we send them anywhere,” Peggy said, looking over the maps and documents on your desk.

You shook your head, brows knitted together. “What the hell do you mean they need to be trained? I thought Phillips was sending his best.”

“The Captian requested that he choose his men himself.”

You blinked at Peggy dumbly as the words sank in. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” You stood up, chair screeching behind you, and stormed off to find Col. Phillips. “We don't have fucking time for this.” You growled to yourself as you pushed various SSR agents out of your way. It would take at least two months to train new agents, soldiers, commandoes, whatever the hell they were intending to call themselves. Ant that wasn't even accounting for any mishaps that might happen during training. Officers moved out of your way as you charged up to Phillips. “Colonel Phillips.”

“Agent Taylor, I was wondering when you would be gracing me with your presence,” Phillips said sardonically.

“You can't be serious about making a team of completely untrained personnel.” You huffed, stopping in front of him.

“I am absolutely serious Agent Taylor. You,” He pointed at you, “Don’t get to question that.”

“It will take months. We’ll be wasting time!” You argued, gesturing wildly with your hands.

“Then I suppose you should be doing everything in your power to ensure their training goes as smoothly as possible.” He countered, handing a folder to a secretary and walking away.

You stared at him wide-eyed for a moment before chasing after him. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

Phillips stopped abruptly and turned to face you. “What I mean is, you are in charge of their training. Congratulations Agent Taylor, you ship out to Scotland with them first thing Monday.”

You scowled, “I'm a spy, not a soldier. I should be working on worming my way into one of the hydra bases to-”

“That’s exactly why I’m assigning you to their training.” Phillips interrupted. “You understand what they are getting themselves into. And as much as I hate to admit it, you get results. Until further notice, you are to join and aid Captain Rogers’ commandoes.” He finished, mumbling “And maybe, it will keep you out of trouble.” as he left, leaving you at a loss for words.

You growled, stomping back to your desk where Peggy was waiting. No doubt she already knew the Colonel’s decision. “Are you done stomping around like a child?”

“Absolutely not!” You threw yourself into your chair, nearly tipping it. “Fuck!” You said as you steadied yourself. You took a deep breath, burying your face in your hands. “How the hell am I supposed to make sure these men are ready to storm hydra bases? I’ve never stormed a hydra base in my life Peg.”

Peggy leaned against your desk. “That's never stopped you in the past. Why is it stopping you now?”

You gapped for a moment. “I've only had to worry about myself in the past. Maybe one other person. Not an entire team of people.”

“Well now you do,” Peggy said. “Are you going to manage? Or are you just going to give up?”

“Give up?” You sneered at the idea. “Of course I’m not going to give up. Too many lives are at stake if they aren’t prepared.”

Peggy smiled at you, “Well then, what do you intend to do?”

You sighed, “I intend to get a drink.” You rubbed your temples. Peggy was right, Peggy was always bloody right. You were beginning to wonder if you were the one from the future, or if Peggy was. “I should also have Steve introduce me to his guys.”

Peggy stood up, smoothing out her red dress. “Well, you could kill two birds with one stone.” You looked up at her with an eyebrow raised. “I need to let Captain Rogers know that Howard needs him in the lab tomorrow morning. So I was going to go looking for him in the pub. If you would like to join me.”

You smirked, “I was wondering why you were all dressed up.”

Bucky sat at the bar waiting for Steve to return. He sighed as he took in the sounds of the bar, he needed this. After going through that hell, being tortured, feeling like he was going to lose his damn mind, he needed this leave more than anything. Hell, the entire 107th needed it. He sure as hell didn't want to go back any time soon either.

But he knew better. He knew Steve needed him. He knew that even with that serum making his best friend into a super-soldier, Steve was still that bull-headed idiot ready to jump into any fight. Steve needed his help, his strength, and Bucky was damned if he was going to let Steve down. So, as much as he didn't want to go back, he knew he had to.

Bucky smiled as Steve appeared through the bar room’s doors, the look on his face telling Bucky all he needed to know. “See?” Bucky said. “Told you, they're all idiots.” He sipped his drink as Steve sat down. They were all idiots, and at this point, Bucky was sure that he and Steve were the biggest idiots of all.

“How 'bout you? You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?” A slight smile played on Steve’s lips as he asked.

“Hell no,” Bucky said, voice tired. “That little guy from Brooklyn that was too dumb not to run from a fight, I’m following him.” He looked at Steve and smiled before taking another drink and adding, “But you're keeping the outfit right?”

Steve turned and looked back at the Captain America tour poster, Bucky was never going to let him live this down. “You know what? It's kinda growing on me.”

The singing in the other room stopped, causing the pair to more to investigate as a woman in a red dress walked into the room. “Captain.” She said. Bucky looked her up and down as she walked up to Steve, he would be a liar if he said she wasn’t beautiful.

“Agent Carter.” Steve greeted and Bucky nodded a hello to her.

“Howard has some equipment for you to try. Tomorrow morning?” She said.

Steve nodded, “Sounds good.”

There was a moment of awkward silence before she spoke again. “I see your top squad is prepping for duty.”

Her comment bothered Bucky slightly, were they not allowed to enjoy themselves? “You don't like music?” He asked.

“I do, actually. I might, even, when this is all over, go dancing.” She answered, focusing solely on Steve.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Bucky said, mildly annoyed at her refusal to even look at him.

“The right partner.” She smiled at Steve, “0800, Captain.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be there.” He nodded as she left.

Bucky huffed in shock at her rejection. “I’m invisible. I’m… I’m turning into you. It’s like some horrible dream.”

Steve chuckled, clapping Bucky on the shoulder. “Don’t take it too hard, I hear she’s got a friend.”

As if on cue, a loud crash came from the other room. All music and singing stopped as a woman's voice yelled, “Touch me again and you’ll get more than a broken nose asshole!” The two men rushed into the room to find a woman in an SSR uniform standing over a soldier bleeding profusely from the face. From the looks of it, you did indeed manage to break his nose. You tucked a bit of disheveled hair behind your ear and straightened your coat with a huff.

You were the woman with the beautiful smile Bucky had seen when he first got back to the camp he realized. He didn't know you had gone on leave with the 107th. “That is Agent Carter’s friend,” Steve whispered in Bucky’s ear. He couldn't help but laugh. Yes, of course, the one that just broke a man’s nose was Agent Carter’s friend. At the very least, he was impressed. It wasn't every day that you meet a woman that knows how to break a man’s nose.

Hearing his laughter, you turned to look at them as the man scrambled away in shame. “Captain Rogers.” Unlike Agent Carter, You didn’t seem happy to see him. “I was hoping to be able to finish my drink before I found you.” You picked a glass up off the bar and downed it.

Steve scoffed and crossed his arms. “Is everything alright Agent Taylor?”

“Besides being groped by drunk soldiers that don't know the meaning of ‘leave me alone’?” You glanced back at the two soldiers nearest to you. The men paled noticeably and took a step back. Bucky frowned at them, who paled even further when they noticed his glare, they knew Bucky wasn't going to let them get away with that. They were going to wish they had walked away with broken noses. “No, Actually, I’m here to meet your team.” You sighed, clearly not wanting to be there.

Steve looked at you for a moment before nodding, “This is Sergeant James Barnes” He said, gesturing to Bucky. You smiled at him in a way that made Bucky wonder if you recognized him from Italy. “He’s my-”

“Best friend?” You asked, an eyebrow raised and a playful smile on your lips. “I assumed as much considering I was nearly court-martialed trying to help you save him. Or, were you going to say second in command?” You teased as you held your hand out to him. “I’m Agent Y/N L/N.” He smiled as he shook your hand, you certainly weren't afraid to speak your mind. “Who are the others?” You asked, suddenly more serious.

Steve gestured towards the table of men nearest to the trio, eyeing them cautiously. Or more specifically, they were eyeing you cautiously. You took a deep breath and mumbled something Bucky couldn't hear before approaching the table. “Hello men,” You said as you sat down with them.

Steve and Bucky followed you but remained standing. The other men grunted hellos before Steve spoke up. “With all due respect Agent Taylor. What is this all about?”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “Col. Phillips, in his infinite wisdom, decided to place me in charge of ensuring your men are properly prepared and trained to take down hydra.” You couldn’t sound more sarcastic if you tried.

“Phillips is sending his secretaries to train us?” Dum Dum gruffed, clearly unsure of what to make of the situation.

“Spy, actually.” Falsworth corrected before you could. “Though, I thought you were with MI6”

You looked at Falsworth for a moment before recognition bloomed on your face. “You're that paratrooper I helped in Russia.” You shook your finger at him, “Falsworth, wasn't it?”

“Its good to see you again Agent Taylor. I never did get to thank you for saving my hide.” He nodded, raising his glass to you. You nodded in response.

Bucky grabbed the back of a chair, looking at you incredulously, “You don’t seem to be particularly enthused about this.” You looked up at him, and he swore he saw the ghost of a smile flash on your lips before you glanced away.

“You're absolutely right.” You said. “If I had my way, I would be halfway to fucking Germany right now.” Bucky’s lip curled upward, that was the second time he heard you curse, you really didn't give a damn what any of them though, did you?

“It’s not very ladylike to swear like that you know.” Dum Dum said, a twinkle in his eye as he took a drink of his stout.

You looked taken aback at his comment. Your eyebrow quirked upward as you nodded your head. “My apologies.” You said, “I didn't realize I was supposed to conform myself to your ideals of a lady. I’ll be sure to do that when I remember to give a damn.”

The table was silent for a beat before bursting into laughter. “Alright,” Dum Dum said, wiping tears from his eyes. “You've made a fair point there.”

“I’m glad,” You said, “I already went over my daily allowance of broken noses.”

“You know Doll if more dames could punch like that, we might have already won the war,” Bucky said, finally sitting down.

You looked at him, scoffing slightly, “Well, Sergeant Barnes, That's something you should take up with your superiors. I know plenty of nurses that would have rathered guns over bandages.”

“I’ll be sure to get right on that,” He said. He liked your attitude, your willingness to speak your mind, and your wit. “And you can call me Bucky. Everyone else here does.”

You smiled that smile Bucky was already starting to like a bit too much. “I think you’ll find that I don’t do things just because everyone else does, Sarge.” Bucky was left speechless as the men around him laughed. He had honest to god, no damn clue how to respond to that.

Steve laughed at his friend’s silence. “You may just be the first woman that managed to make Buck speechless.” He said. Bucky’s cheeks warmed and he elbowed Steve in the side.

You laughed, it was a nice laugh almost giggly, “If that’s all it takes then you must not talk to many girls.”

Bucky feigned offense, “I’ll have you know, Brooklyn’s gals were heartbroken when I was shipped out.”

You hummed, unconvinced, “Guess you must talk and never listen then.”

“I’m listenin’ to ya now, ain’t I Doll?” He shot back.

“There's a first for everything.” You grinned.

“Doll, I’m starting to think you're tryin’ to hurt my feelings.”

You gasped, placing a hand on your chest, “Me? Never.” You looked over the men once more before drumming your hands on the table. “As much fun as I’m having boys, I still have work to do. I also regret to inform you all, that your leave ends Monday. You are all expected to be on the train to Inverness at 0600 Monday morning.” The men groaned.

“You're killin’ us!” Morita said, “We only just got here. We need a break!”

“Sucks for you.” You said with a shrug. “I haven't had a break in two years, I’m sure you’ll survive.” You stood up with a stretch. “I’ll see you all on the train. Cap.” You nodded to Steve, then gave Bucky a mischevious smile, “Sergeant Barnes.” You said with a casual salute.

Bucky watched you intently as you left. He found himself far more excited about the end of leave than he was just a few hours ago. Steve grabbing his shoulder pulled Bucky’s attention away from you. “And you said you were turning into me.”

Bucky rolled his eyes as the men teased him, “Yeah yeah. Laugh it up. We’ll see how much you assholes are laughing on the train at six in the morning.”

“Whatever you say, Sergeant Barnes.” Dum Dum teased, downing the last of his pint.

Time lost Taglist (If you want to be added, ask. if you don’t see your name here, I probably tagged you in the OC version)

@henderwhore4life

[jawnjendes]

don’t want your hand this time | shawn mendes

chapter 1/?, university au, shawn x goth oc

AN: i know i know i posted a thing yesterday but UUUHHHHH im just tryna get to the saucy parts of this bc SOMEBODY decided to be all hot n sexy in a certain music video ANYWAY this is just an intro chapter of sorts and we are introducing some new characters!! lmk your thoughts thots!

***let me know if u wanna be added/removed from the taglist

masterlist | playlist coming soon

When Annalise Flores has shit to do within a time limit, she forgets about everything else. Her phone goes on silent, she ignores her other obligations, and she makes sure to get whatever is in her focus done. This has proven to be disastrous in the past, like when Annalise just needed to clean the entire dorm before starting any homework assignment was due the next day. Or when she reorganized the filing closet at the dealership before adding up the gas receipts she was ordered to do. You get the idea.

Annalise was very determined to get all of her unopened boxes, and her clothes to fit in her tiny, beat up car so she didn't have to make multiple trips, given how far campus is from Shawn's apartment. He promised he would help her move when he got home, he had that huge Jeep after all, but Annalise was way too antsy. Besides, they already fought about this, and she didn't want to start anything all over again. She didn't want him to feel obligated to help if only one of them was into the idea of her moving out.

After pushing on the car door three times, it finally clicked shut. Annalise successfully managed to stuff all of her clothes and half her boxes into the backseat. The rest of the boxes were in the trunk. The windows were all covered, so maybe she wouldn't be able to see her blind spots, but at least Annalise wouldn't have to make a second trip. She silently thanked the Tetris gods for blessing her with the appropriate skills as she went back up to the apartment.

Shawn's living space didn't look that different with all of Annalise's belongings out. Most of it was all stashed into the "recording" room over the summer, and neither of them spent any time in there. There was more space in the closet now, too. It was no longer just a black abyss, and all of Shawn's belongings were now undisturbed. Annalise debated smuggling out his black Nike hoodie, but given the circumstances it was best to leave everything as it was. The apartment didn't look any different really, but Annalise still felt an ache from her throat down to the bottom of her feet as she removed the spare key from her chain and left it on the glass dining table. This was easier than saying goodbye to him in person.

~

Campus was nowhere near as quiet and lonely as the apartment. Students were running around like headless chickens, trying to locate buildings, schedules, and friends. She already had a key to her dorm, so she parked near her building and carried her backpack and two boxes up the walkway. Annalise's resting bitch face and the clunk of her boots on the ground gave her less of a struggle to push past other students. Weak and fragile as she was these last couple of months, she's still got it.

The dorm building wasn't too far from the last one she lived in, but it was going to be a bitch getting to her classes. Maybe she should invest in a bike… or she should get her shit together and take the bus.

Annalise's new dorm was on the third floor, and it was furnished. Weird, yes, but she was not going to complain. It was a bit smaller, but not cramped. There was a tiny hallway between the two bedrooms, and one cramped bathroom. She noticed one room already had boxes sitting on the floor, and she couldn't help but get just a little excited. Stella hadn't completely abandoned her. Annalise wasn't even mad about their three month long silence, she was just happy that she would be seeing a familiar face.

She didn't run into Stella at all during the multiple trips she took bringing all her stuff in. Annalise knew she was here, though. Her perfume scent was always left behind in any room she had been in, and Annalise definitely caught the scent in the dorm. The same amount of boxes were still in her room by the time Annalise finished bringing all of her's in. She figured she could have texted Stella, but she kind of wanted to surprise her… even though they both knew about the other.

She checked her phone anyway. The only text she had was from Shawn.

"How come you didn't wait for me?"

Pursing her lips and smudging the signature black lipstick, Annalise cleared the notification and went to sit in the armchair in the living room. She was way too tired to try to reason with him. She certainly couldn’t jump into the "I miss you" crap so quickly either. She didn't want to, but Shawn obviously did when he sent another text. Out of sheer habit, Annalise opened the notification instead of clearing it, and she cursed under her breath.

"You've been gone only a few hours and this place already feels so sad and empty. Why did you leave your key?"

Yeah, she left him on read. She didn't know what else to say to him.

Thankfully, the lock on the door jiggled and in came Stella carrying a large cardboard box. She gasped and her hazel eyes lit up when she saw her dark natured roommate. She quickly squatted down and set the box on the floor before coming at Annalise with open arms.

"Mi esposa hermosa!"

Annalise will never say this out loud, but Stella gives wonderful hugs. They two girls haven't seen each other in over three months, so getting a nice tight hug was something that was really needed. They rocked from side to side, giggling at the motions. It was like nothing had really changed.

"When did I become your wife?" Annalise asked, amused as she leaned back to look at her.

"When we decided to live together for the third year in a row!" Stella replied. “Oh you got a little…” Her thumb rubbed under Annalise’s lip, showing her the black.

“The struggles of being goth,” she joked.

Stella giggled, and then the rambling began. "How are you? I'm so sorry we didn't talk much over the summer. Did you stay with Shawn the whole summer? Oh, is he here?" She bounced on her feet, looking around the dorm.

"Uh yeah, I did stay with him the entire time," she told her. "And no, he's not here. He's working."

Annalise knew he wasn't. He had found her abandoned key, which meant he was home. And he was probably sulking. And he was going to sleep alone...

"But he'll be here later, right?" Stella asked, nudging her arm. "Y'all are gonna christen your room, eh?"

She really had to ask, didn't she? She really had to jokingly ask a question that would change the expression on Annalise's face, thus warning her of the things that had happened. She wasn't sure why she kept an obviously fake smile on her face as she silently stared at her roommate. The silence alone wasn't enough, apparently.

Normally, Stella would dramatically gasp, sit her down, and ask Annalise to spill every detail. Instead, she sighed.

"Fill me in while you help me bring my stuff up."

~

Classes and club meetings resumed within the next couple of days, so it gave Annalise plenty of excuses to keep her texts to Shawn dismissive and short. She knew he was coming and going from campus for class too, but due to their different majors, he was going to be very far away from her. Not to mention, he didn't know where her new dorm was located, so it wasn't like he could track her down.

Except… Annalise had to retake biology. She knew Shawn was at the science building quite often, and she had hoped her bio lab fell on a day that he was at the fine arts building. But you know, life just happens, and sometimes you see your mans between classes. Sometimes you just see him leaving classroom, towering over the other students because he’s a giant. Maybe you’ll see him with a very short girl at his side, and they’re both laughing at something. Maybe he won’t see you either because he’s balls deep in banter with this random girl.

There was a lump in Annalise’s stomach following that minor event, and it made her anxious and uneasy for the first day of that class. Still, she was determined to stay on board with the separation they both agreed on. It was better that way for now. She didn't know about Shawn, but Annalise fully intended on keeping the distance, suspicious-looking friends be damned.

Anyway, she could find friends of her own too. Gaming club meetings started up again that Friday, and it was something to look forward to. After god knows how long, Annalise attended said meeting after receiving an email from the head of the club, Josh. He and his friend, Paul, ran the club most of the time. They managed to get plenty of people to sign up during the rush earlier in the week but only seven of them actually attended the first meeting. Just like every year.

Both Josh and Paul were scrawny blond boys with "nice guy" complexes. They were polite for the most part, given that they inducted Annalise into the club the moment she signed up. But they also quizzed her on just about every popular, mainstream video game there was once they realized she would actually be showing up to the meetings. It took time, and a bit of Annalise telling them off, but they were civil towards each other now.

"Annalise!" called Chad as the lady herself entered the classroom in the communications building. He was another member, and he had his two frat bros with him, Kyle and Jared, and they both chanted her name in their deep, manly voices.

All different heights, but same amount of insane muscle. For lack of better words, these guys were meatheads with good intentions. Chad was a student with one of the highest GPA on campus, practically competing with Josh. Kyle was the star student in his major, sports medicine. Jared was that guy who beat up bigots as a hobby. All three of them were fully dedicated to their fraternity, Sigma Chi.

Then there was Patrick, who nodded to Annalise as a greeting. She nodded back and took the empty seat next to him in the circle.

The people who think Annalise Flores is a complete hardcore goth have not met Patrick Markowski. This was a guy who was always decked out in leather, ripped jeans, and black eyeliner. He had a proper faux hawk, which is what made people notice him the most. He typically surrounded himself with other goths, unlike Annalise. He was truly dedicated to the lifestyle, while she deviated from even that sometimes. This was the only guy in the club Annalise was actually friends with.

Anyway, all seven of these nerds shared the same appreciation for video games, which brought them all together in a circle, in an empty classroom, in the communications building this evening. However, Annalise's entrance caused the guys to deviate from the main topic.

Josh and Paul had been staring at her with their mouths open the second she entered the room. The Frats were visibly excited and each gave her a high five. Patrick merely stayed quiet and smiled.

"Heard you almost fucking died!" Chad told her. "And you didn't tell a single one of us!"

"I thought you had actually died," Josh spoke up. "Since you never miss a meeting and all."

So that got around. Cool.

“I wasn’t dying,” Annalise said, rolling her eyes. “I just had part of my colon surgically removed.”

“No way…” Jared said in wonder.

“Oh, that’s disgusting,” said Paul with a gag. He brought the collar of his red Pizza Planet shirt over his mouth.

The Frats stared at Annalise in awe, almost impressed by her vague explanation. She really didn’t understand the fascination, given everything that happened during and after the hospital. Of course, they knew nothing about any of that. At the same time, Annalise was annoyed at Paul’s dramatic reaction, so she kept talking.

“It might happen to you too if you don’t take care of yourself and listen to your body,” she told him. “Or worse, you could end up with a bag of your poop attached to your belly.”

Paul gagged again, much louder this time. Then Annalise decided that that was enough and directed the conversation to the club’s main topic: video games.

“So who’s played Team Sonic Racing?”

It was only the first meeting, so the group made a plan to bring their Switches and play next time. The Nice Guys prompted to play a round of Fortnite online later, but Annalise was not up for that game in the slightest. Too mainstream. Too chaotic. She never could get into it.

“Well, we can play without you,” Paul suggested, “not everyone has to join in.”

“Isn’t that a rule, though?” Patrick asked pointedly. “If we’re gonna play something together, we all have to agree on one game. Besides, I don’t play Fortnite either.”

Paul's eyes darted around, trying to look for a counterargument, but he sighed. “Fine. Anyone else got any suggestions?”

“What about a D&D campaign?” Annalise said. “Or some type of board game?”

Josh scoffed. “It’s video game club. Besides, me and Paul already have a campaign with our other friends.”

“‘Course you do,” she mumbled, folding her arms.

“Ooo! I got an idea!” Kyle spoke up, raising his massive hand. “We should hit up Bart. That bar with the art and retro games?”

Annalise perked up. Finally, someone with a brain cell. “I participated in a Smash Bros tournament there. It’s really fun, we should all go one weekend.”

“A bar?” Josh said in distaste.

“Yeah! It’ll be a class field trip or something!” Chad agreed. “It’s awesome, bro! They got a Gamecube and an N64! Sometimes they do karaoke night, but only with songs from different games!”

Then, Kyle looked at Annalise with a smirk. “Bet your boyfriend would perform there, eh?”

Even when she was far away from him, Shawn still had a presence wherever she went. “Heh, maybe…”

Luckily, none of these guys were the type to hover. The subject went back to going to Bart one weekend, and then the group chat was revived to discuss further adventures. Once the meeting was adjourned, Patrick followed me out the door.

“So, Annie. No offense or anything,” he said, walking in step beside her as they walked down the corridor, “but what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“My summer was great, thanks,” Annalise said, too busy glancing at her phone to cringe at that awful nickname. No new messages for once.

“Nah, seriously. You were in the fucking hospital, and I find out through Snapchat?” he asked seriously. “Did you even tell anybody? What the hell happened?”

She didn’t remember posting anything about her hospital stay anywhere on social media. However, the only two people who were there with her were social media freaks. Stella was the type to tweet every single one of her brain farts, and frequently Snap where she was every second. Shawn was less active on his platforms, but he was still quite popular in the Toronto area, so he had a sizeable following. Annalise knew he took a picture of his hand holding hers while she was in the hospital at least once. Maybe it made it to his Instagram story a couple of times.

Sighing, Annalise gave Patrick the gist of her exciting adventure with her large intestine. Some underlying guilt wanted to be felt as she recalled staying and Shawn’s for so long, but she decided to spare those details.

“Looked death in the face, eh?” he said, nodding in what looked like approval. “Badass.”

She chuckled. “Guess I wasn’t ready to be yeeted off this mortal coil.”

“Ugh, you use the word yeet? How much has that guy changed you?” Patrick stuck his tongue out at her, flashing the piercing he had on the muscle.

“Hey, I’m more down with the kids than he is.”

The pair were quiet as they made it out to the courtyard. The night was chilly and cloudy, the only light coming from the lampposts on either side of the walkway. It felt different knowing Annalise was with only a friend rather than her mans, and she tried to ignore the ache in her chest and the urge to talk about him.

“Do you remember what it was like?” Patrick asked after a minute. “Being so close to death?”

“Nope,” she replied simply. “Although, when I was under, I had a really vivid dream that my… uh, Shawn cheated on me.” Way to not talk about him.

“You sure it was a dream?”

They were passing by one of the picnic tables, where Patrick pointed to. There was a group of people standing around the table, and two people sitting on top of it. One of those people was Shawn with his acoustic guitar. He was singing with the girl who was sitting next to him, the same one he was walking with at the science building. It wouldn’t have seemed weird if Patrick hadn’t said what he said. It would have been left alone if Annalise hadn’t thought about that stupid fever dream.

“Come on,” she said to Patrick as she stalked off towards the group.

“I was joking!” he said with a laugh.

Still, Annalise walked with a purpose and he followed her. She clutched the strap of her shoulder bag and kept her chin up as she made herself apart of the tiny audience. It was quite the sight, two nerds decked out in all black and heavy eyeliner amongst a group of normals watching two other normals sing a pop song. No lie, Annalise just wanted to get a look at this girl she had never seen before.

Olive skin. Black, curly hair. Very short next to her guy. Very pretty voice coming out of very pretty lips. She looked at Shawn and he looked back at her as they sang an eerily familiar song. Musically speaking, they seemed good together.

“I’ll leave you with the memory, and the aftertaste…”

The tiny audience clapped. Patrick was nodding in pleasant surprise, probably having never heard Shawn’s songs before. Annalise applauded as well, but she couldn’t help the narrowing of her eyes as she watched Shawn and this girl high five each other.

They were both comfortable with all the attention, it was easy to see. Shawn was beaming in a way that hadn’t been seen in a long time, and then he laid eyes on Annalise. He still had that smile on his face, even though it faltered a little bit. She kept her face neutral and quirked her eyebrows at him as a silent greeting.

“Should I leave you guys alone?” asked Patrick as he and Annalise watched Shawn get down from the table top.

“No,” she replied simply.

She almost regretted having him stay. He had to witness Shawn and Annalise attempt to figure out how to greet each other. A side hug would have been awkward for reasons not only having to do with the guitar strapped to his shoulder. She definitely couldn’t kiss him, because that would have started something she had been trying to distance herself from. They finally settled for a mildly uncomfortable handshake, and Shawn kept holding her hand as he spoke.

It had been almost a week since Ann moved out, and she only sent him one text in that time span. It was the black heart emoji. Better than nothing, but not better than seeing her in person.

“You haven’t answered my texts,” Shawn told her. If she was going to decide when she'll give him attention, then he wasn't going to beat around the bush when he saw her.

“I’ve been busy,” Ann replied, feebly attempting to shake her hand away.

Shawn nodded, but he wasn't thoroughly convinced. Between work and school, Ann was a hermit. Or so he thought, given that she now had this new goth dude at her side. “So, who’s your friend?”

“Who’s yours?” she quickly said back.

“I’m Patrick!” said Patrick, holding out his hand. “Annie and I go way back!”

Shawn let go of her hand to shake his. “Nice to meet you, brother. Wait… Annie?” He chuckled.

Her cheeks heated up, and she decided to move her eyes somewhere else, specifically on Shawn’s unnamed singing partner. She was chatting with some of the other people still around the table. Annalise noticed she talked with her hands a lot.

“She lets me call her that even though she hates it,” Patrick said, snapping her back into the moment. “Right, Annie?”

“Do not,” she warned. Then she looked at Shawn. “So who’s the chick you’re singing with?”

Shawn took in an almost reluctant deep breath as he turned and called the girl over. If there was anything he had yet to discover, it had to be if his girl was the jealous type.

Annalise's dark brown eyes narrowed once again while he wasn’t looking. Call it anxiety or paranoia, but she was oddly suspicious. Patrick caught the glare though, and he nudged her arm to snap her out of it.

“Ann, Patrick, this is Alessia,” Shawn said when the very short girl joined them. “She’s a first year. Alessia, this is my…” He elongated the vowel. “Annalise. And her friend Patrick.”

Okay, so… a sinking feeling in the tummy. That’s what that felt like. Couldn’t be mad, though. Annalise wasn’t so quick to use the boyfriend word these days.

“You’re Annalise!” Alessia said in pleasant surprise. She did not hesitate to hug her, arms going around her shoulders and practically pulling her down to her level. “It’s so nice to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you!”

Honestly, Annalise was just glad she didn’t call her the goth girlfriend. Or the goth anything, for that matter. She didn’t hug Patrick, though, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“So, how did you two meet?” Annalise prompted. So maybe she was a little more than curious to know how and when Shawn found the time to get another girl at his side.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Shawn replied a little too quickly.

His eyes bored into hers, throwing them into a staredown. He broke through the fake, polite smile Ann had on. Of course he broke it. He was the only one who could. However, Shawn couldn't read the expression she had on. He couldn't tell if she was upset or not, happy or not… He couldn't tell if she wanted to change her mind about this separation or not… Ten months together and Ann was still a mystery.

“Uh, Shawn and I have like, every class together,” Alessia said slowly, looking between the couple, noticing the sudden change in atmosphere. She scratched the back of her head.

“Annie and I have been in the same club for two years,” Patrick added in the same tone. He too noticed the tension.

“Oh, which club? There’s some I’ve been checking out…”

Those two kept up the conversation. Shawn’s gaze on Annalise made her throat close up. He wasn’t smiling or feigning politeness anymore. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were hard and glossed over. Inexplicable guilt began to form in her chest yet again. She knew he didn’t understand.

_______

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