Stretching Endless Night
BdoubleO is the pilot of LTS-143, on its way from the Meridian to the Prometheus, two space stations a week's flight apart. On board with him is his friend and life partner, Etho Slab. It's supposed to be a quiet journey, with few problems, and little to do besides pace around and play cards.
This is not the case.
(so...about that ethosweep + first chapter of the space au promise I made. well, here you go! also, huge shout out to @oh-snapperss for being my enabler <3)
Two days after launch, Etho asks him about the timeline again. He says:
“So how long was it again?”
And Bdubs has to bite his tongue lest he say something to tick Etho off.
Instead, Bdubs leans back in his chair, away from the control panel, to where he can see Etho sitting next to him. Etho tosses something—a coin, a piece of metal, Bdubs can’t be sure—into the air, and Bdubs watches it drop back into his hands. He turns back to toggle a button.
“Seven days,” he says, shifting in his seat. “Six and a half if we push it.”
Etho hums thoughtfully for a moment. It seems to sate him.
It’s strange, Bdubs knows, when he turns back to face the twinkling expanse in the front shield of the ship, that they’re even here. Three days ago, Bdubs’ feet were planted firmly on the artificial grass and gravity of the space station, with no intention of going anywhere, and not certainly with the likes of Etho. He startles. No. That’s not what he means. He trusts Etho with his life—a lot more than just his life. But Etho wasn’t a space guy. He didn’t travel. He didn’t walk. He stayed in and kept to himself and his projects and made the ship better on the inside, not the outside. He was reclusive. But now he was wearing a grey flight suit that looked a little too good on him. A big 02 emblazoned on the back. His name stitched in fine letters on the front. Bdubs sighs, swiveling his seat around.
“At least it was a smooth takeoff.”
“We’ve had worse,” Etho says, nonchalantly. He’s still tossing that coin, watching it flip into the air and back into his hand. Rhythmic. Bdubs eyes stop following it to circle the crescent shaped room. It’s not a small space, either. Along the wall are more panels, displays, and two other seats unused.
Bdubs rises, trying to will his blood to flow back into his legs despite the lackluster artificial gravity onboard. He shakes them a bit before he steps down the platform and into the greater room. It’s his ship. He’s not a captain—not even close. But the 01 on his back means that he’s responsible for it running in order—and getting back in one piece. He’d gone through the safety protocols, he’s run the necessary courses. He’d been the one to get Etho out of bed two mornings ago when he’d been running late for final checks, for god sake.
Bdubs narrows his eyes at him when he looks over.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Etho eyes him back. “The test flight?”
Oh. Bdubs sighs, turning back around. He waves a hand in Etho’s direction, as if trying to dismiss the accusation all together.
“That was one time!” he tries. Etho hums.
“Yeah, and we almost crashed—”
Bdubs whips around to look at him again, pointing a finger in his direction.
“You almost crashed us.”
Etho huffs, his expression smug.
“Not true.”
“Sure, alright,” Bdubs rolls his eyes. “You’re the worst.”
“Hey, you keep bringing me along.”
Yeah. Okay. Etho was right.
And now the man, his friend, best friend, his partner, slept above him in the bunk and ate his share of the first ready-to-eat meal they had together. It was a quiet sort of solitude in space. One that became too much if you faced it alone. But he wasn’t alone. He had Etho. He always had Etho.
“Where’re you off to?” Etho says, leaning his head back to watch him. Bdubs shrugs.
“Dunno,” he says. “Figured I’d find something to do.”
“What about a round of cards?”
“What do I get if I win?”
“Uh…” Etho frowns. Bdubs realizes he isn’t wearing his mask, at that moment, and. It’s not like he hasn’t seen his face but, it’s special, somehow. He feels something well up in his chest. He smiles back at him, letting that something bubble up into a laugh when Etho says: “How about my chocolate pudding? If I get it in the next ready-meal.”
Bdubs sticks his hand out.
“Deal.”
Etho takes it. Deal. After a beat of silence, making their way into the kitchen, Etho asks, with no particular leaning toward an answer:
“So how’d we end up doing this anyway?”
(We as in Etho and Bdubs–a hardware engineer and a software engineer. This as in the transfer to the Meridian for a four month project Bdubs was spearheading. There had come a point where his work on the Prometheus was overlapping with that from the Meridian. Tango had made a few calls, and suddenly there was a reassignment and training modules and choose a second in command and STS-143 and Etho smacking the hull and saying “well it does the space-ing” and it being called the Spacer, under their breaths in the back of meetings. It was BdoubleO- 01 on his flight suit and finally lifting off and now he was here, playing cards, sitting cross-legged in front of Etho, whose tongue was caught between his teeth as he shuffled.
Bdubs is praying he isn’t going to cheat this time.
But he knows better.)
(read the rest on ao3!)
87 notes
·
View notes
RILS, my love, how have you been? its been so long since i left an ask, honestly.. what do you think our boys are doing rn for valentines??
anyways, HAPPY VALENTINES!! I LOVE YOU <333 💛💛💛 😘😘😘
HONEYYYYYYYYY MY DARLING MY PRECIOUS, ILYSM!!! 😍💖😍💖😍 I cannot tell you how HAPPY I was when I logged in today to find one of your asks!! First things first, happy Valentine’s Day to you too, darling! 💕💕💕 I hope yours has been lovely :3 Second, I just wanna say you’re the sweetest cinnamon roll that ever cinnamon rolled, and whenever I see your url/icon around, my little heart just goes “!!!!! FRIEND!!!!! I LOVE YOU FRIEND!!! 💕💕💕”, so there’s that :3
Lastly, and I think I should warn you here – I’ve been thinking long and hard about what Steve and Bucky must have been doing today, and because I’m the most indecisive scrunklekadoodle out there and I can never make up my mind about anything, I thought I might offer you not one, but a few little scenarios :3 They’re just a few of the infinite possibilities, but they also happen to be a few of my faves, and I hope at least one of them is to your liking, honey!! 😘😘😘😘😘
ALRIGHT NOW TIME TO PUT MY CHEESY GOGGLES ON, LET’S GO
one.
I think there’s at least one timeline out there, where they get to do something like this before the war, and like–
end of the night, they’re coming home – just the two of them, just on the right side of tipsy, you know, warmth in their chests and a sweet buzz under their skin, and while Steve’s fishing for their keys in his pocket, Bucky meets his eyes for a moment and damn but he’s been a fool to go looking for stars up in the sky when they’ve been shining so bright right here in front of him.
So key turns in the hole, door swings open for them, and maybe tonight even their apartment is feeling good – maybe their old radio chooses to crackle back to life for a change, and they pull their curtains closed, they only leave the one lamp on, pick their little corner away from the window just in case.
And they’re supposed to be dancing, see, just a little box step like Becca taught them for laughs the last time the Barnes’ had Steve over for the holidays, but then. But then their eyes meet. And their noses, so softly – and their lips, and that’s so much softer somehow – and Bucky’s hand’s travelling up Steve’s spine, and Steve’s sliding his fingers in Bucky’s hair, and they were meant to be dancing, but they just end up making out for twenty-seven minutes straight instead.
two.
alright, there’s definitely a universe out there, in the always blessed post-CATWS timeline where CACW never happened, and just-- please consider:
Steve’s been planning tonight for so long, ‘cause he wants it to be special, wants Bucky to have a Valentine’s Day just like the stuff you see in the movies; and since he can afford it these days, he has precisely 1107 red roses (one for each day they have been together in the new century) delivered to their apartment, with a hand-scribbled note that reads, Hope to send you a million more.
He’s made a reservation at Bucky’s favorite place, and when Bucky steps out of their bedroom that night, with a fresh shave and his hair carefully pulled back, in tight-fitting black pants and that deep burgundy button down that hugs his shoulders just right and brings out the natural red of his lips, Steve nearly falls to his knees in religious worship.
He fits both hands around Bucky’s slim waist, heart drumming out a crazy beat in his chest, just where Bucky’s hands choose to rest awhile.
“You look like a million dollars, honey.”
Bucky smiles that one secret smile of his, the one that so rarely appears outside the safe walls of their home. His metal hand slides up to stroke at the nape of Steve’s neck, slipping tender fingers under the collar of Steve’s shirt to brush, kiss-soft, against his bare skin – and his touch is thrill and gooseflesh spreading down Steve’s spine.
His voice rumbles deep and warm, just a whisper away from Steve’s lips. “You clean up nicely too, doll.”
And I mean, maybe they make it out the door, or maybe they don’t.
three.
But like have you considered the possibility of Valentine’s in Wakanda, because I mean–
catch these boys living it up in their blissful little bubble like they’re on their own special kind of honeymoon, okay, making total goo goo eyes at each other all the time, and there has to be, there HAS to be a little moment somewhere in there, okay, like
it’s February 14th and- and I don’t think they’ve even checked the calendar in like a week, because who needs to know what day it is when they’ve been savoring their time together like this? Content to explore life on their little farm, going from one meal to work, to the next meal, to more work, and so on and so forth, and measuring their day in how many kisses they managed to sneak in between?
Come sunset, they find each other in the kitchen, and Bucky pulls Steve in by his beltloops and captures his lips all sweet-like, like a greeting and like a promise all at once, and Steve tells himself it’s well worth sweating all day long and chasing after stray goats and getting his work clothes all nice and ripe, if at the end of it all he gets to be kissed hello like this.
Bucky chuckles against his mouth, and Steve tastes the sweat off his whiskers, and the faint sweetness of the dried apricots he knows Bucky keeps on him these days.
“You smell like goat,” Bucky pulls away just enough to say to him, his whole face scrunched up with laughter, his eyes screwed shut, all happy crinkles and them mile-long eyelashes and if god has any mercy at all he won’t let Steve’s heart stop dead in his chest the way it feels like it’s going to do, nope, ‘cause Steve’s got so much more of this to bask in yet, so much more of it, so much more.
“You smell like goat shit,” he tells Bucky, and there’s a story somewhere in here left in the trail of clothes they strew across the floor, and a plot twist for sure where they knock over a lamp and a book and almost trip over Steve’s old boots, but the epilogue sees Steve hoisting Bucky up in his arms and stumbling into the shower with him, same way he keeps doing a little too often lately, and nowhere near often enough.
What they start in the shower, of course, they can finish in the bedroom; and if Bucky moves slow and languorous on top of him, and teaches their hips the old rock ‘n’ roll once more, just to make sure they both remember it still, well Steve has always loved to learn.
four.
Now I was thinking– how about a little bit of a romantic getaway? Maybe a long weekend out of town, perhaps in the mountains, to make the best of what’s left of winter. They spend the whole day going for walks around the local village, sipping on a cup of hot cocoa, playing in the snow just like they used to when they were kids, building a sadly short-lived snow dick together, sledding, until they’re tired all the way down to their bones.
That’s when they go back to their private chalet, proceed to slip out of their damp clothes and climb together in a nice hot bubblebath, where Steve sits himself between Bucky’s legs and lays back against Bucky’s chest, and they alternate between trading slow, lazy kisses and feeding each other the fancy chocolates they brought back with them, until the water’s gone lukewarm.
and I could honestly keep going, but it's getting late and I need to get up early tomorrow, so for now, happy valentine's day to both you and our favourite boys!!
42 notes
·
View notes