#that stiff arm against sam.....i am ducking my head DOWN and just. oh my god.

[chasedeys]

oh em gee im a ravens fan 😞💔. i also adore lamar …would love to hear your thoughts on lamar/derrick and/or lamar/kyle 🤗🤗

ALSJDJSJ HELLOOO 😭😭 first of all sorrows sorrows prayers 💔 and like. slight apologies did my sudden rooting for the ravens bc the lions booked it (sorrows sorrows prayers also 😔….apologies did my sudden rooting for the lions—😭) bring you shit luck like. how the fuck... BUT ANYWAYS BRINGING JOYYYY with some rpf talk akhdskjs wow brought this upon myself i dont really like know much abt the ravens ship wise argrhgrh like i don’t think anybody has asked me any ship outside of the bengals?? outside of joemarr really 😭 like no one has even asked me abt jjkoc whom i adore and bring up constantly even on asks abt joemarr?? 😭 (EDIT: THANK YOU CASEY AND CHRISNOELIE WHO HAVE LITERALLY JUST SENT ASKS 😭😭❤️) that’s such a shame (to be fair i dont really. know that many ships or show. that i like ship that many either lmao) 😔 OH WELL OKAY USING THIS LIKE. FOR MY PORTFOLIO what fucking portfolioaksjsksksk yapped abt any ship of my own volition am actually sweating a bit at this bc like. i dont actually?? know them??? so this is mostly like from Vibes ive seen from clips of them floating around here and twt and ig that have spurred the Fire in me to just. See Shit. do you get me.

bengals mutuals who are sensitive abt ravens pls look away 🫶 and like don’t block me aksjsksk let me rpf in peace i beg 😭 i just see pretty men with chemistry and i want to see them kiss 😔

AUGH prefacing this with like. the only thing ive actually written shippy wise abt the ravens is that one lamar/ja’marr thing im actually so fucking fond offfff in that shippy rpf list thing i did way back oh that led that one ask i got damn wait i actually have gotten an ask outside of joemarr like that frock and also on lamar/ja’marr!!!!! god i should do that thing again akhdksjs ANYWAYS SORRY MOVING ON (wait no. lamar/ja’marr. still so enamored. sorry. it’s the ja’marr truther in me i fear.)

disclaimer my characterization (???? for rpf?????) of them may be skewed???? because like. i haven’t been as deep into their lore as i am with joemarr and the bengals. and like their history isn’t as deeply documented here as joemarrs is lol. i follow. 2 people tops including you who are ravens fans. several others with running back adoration shining through too so. like. keep that in mind 😭

DERRICK LAMAR HERE WE GOOOOO FUCKKKKK do you know. how fucking enamored i am. that derrick has been so fucking steadfast in his defense of lamar as a quarterback. he’s so. all his tweets. all his quotes. oh my godddd. he’s soooooo. he came to fucking ravens because lamar is the fucking quarterback???? all those clapbacks he did saying lamar is his qb????? i don’t actually recall all his tweets sorry are they tweets wow but like. all i remember are just. vibes. and those vibes are just. him basically saying. fuck you i know what im all about and that’s lamar fucking jackson keep his name out of your mouth. thats hot as shitttttt are you kidding me 😭😭 and he’s gorgeous. fucking beautiful. he’s fucking huge and downright shameless about it. he wears his tops like they’re a suggestion rather than a necessity. i think he’d rather wear crop tops on the daily actually. we should start petitioning nfl uni changes to like. crop tops. see through pads too. he’d be overjoyed, i think. i’d be overjoyed. also.

and lamar’s like. murder in his mind but also fucking hilarious this man in the playoffs talking abt how he’s here to compete not be friends with other qbs or something like that idk i forgot whatever it is he said that one presser abt josh? (?) but just like. one track minded (understandable btw something to prove being mvp however many times and yet. always falling short in the playoffs. just. yikes. for him. god. i feel so terrible for him 😬) but also. the entire beyonce thing 😭 hilarious. the christmas thing where he kind of disappeared?? where the hell was he 😭 what was that hard knocks ep akdhsksk i forgot and like his presser clips that sometimes pop byyyy hes cute idc idc but like sorry if im jumping here and there here back to derrick a bit so i can lead back to lamar -> derricks super chill? or well. he’s sooooo sure of himself. hes 31. 8 years itl nothing rattles him. he knows what he wants. immovable. doesn’t quake that easy. but like stressing again: knows what he wants. pro bowl? sure. ravens because the quarterbacks lamar jackson? sure. like it doesn’t really take much to rattle him yk?? like as far as i can seeee auagahagh i don’t really see many clips of himmm though i did see him dance with zay i think?? cuteeeee whimsy showing up when urged with all these new guys he’s getting comfy with!!! and alsoooo ive seen him hype the ever living shittttt out of saquon!!! that’s some cute shit. signing into the ravens with some lowballed contract too i think?? says something abt him!! idk chill is a word id use abt him. his reaction to the probowl is still so fucking 😭 but again, knows what he wants. which: lamar. who, again: one track minded, gets incredibly shitty jokey jokes at the most random of times, mentions his mother cussing him out shamelessly, jokes about going out to see beyonce during halftime, cannot help himself mentioning a meme from a reporters name, etc etc and also. gives me the vibes of. not really catching anyone putting down any moves on him. because he thinks they’re just appreciating his quarterbacking. and derricks reallyyyyyyy good at that. hyping the everliving shittttt out of him. praising him on all platforms and straight to his face. from day one. coming into the ravens bc hes the qb. outright saying that so he knows exactly what to expect from derrick and what to do to level up to him. so like. super cute to think of derrick asking him out and lamar just. not clicking 😭 and lamar praising him right back toooooo 😭 all his shit being super technical while derricks just waiting. to be wooed back. because he’s thinking like. oh lamars pretty smart yk he knows what derrick wants and has been doing no way he doesn’t and he’s so fucking sure of himself no way lamar isn’t wanting him back but lamar isn’t fucking doing anythinggggg. he’s just. being a really good teammate. derrick hasn’t heard a single actual flirtatious thing that isn’t like. you’re really good at football that’s such a sexy run and he’s all that winona ryder confused math meme trying to think if that’s an actual pick up line but he’s seen lamar flirt in clubs to get better seats or better shelved drinks if the bartender doesnt recognize them damn it when the fuck is he getting the full experience. until it slowly dawns on him he doesn’t fucking realize that derrick has been outright fucking flirting with him. WHICH leads tooo a bit of lamar/kyle which is like only because of that one clip aksfaksl wait okay THIS IS A MESS UGH SORRY ->

lamar/kyle!!! i know not much about them tbh!!! just that kyle is fucking gorgeousssssssss and lamar is toooooo oh my god. oh my god that one clip. that one fucking clip. of kyle coming up to lamar. and back hugging him. wait let me fucking find it auagahsgsu IS THAT NOT THE CUTEST SHIT????? i am superrrrr into this dynamic of like. heavy devotion into your quarterback because of how fucking GOOD they are. like. tell me that entire fucking team isn’t the least bit besotted with lamar fucking jackson. (i have like. the slightest clue of the ravens roster tbh. sorry. i do the same shit with like. joe. all those boys. enamored with him. because he's so fucking good. argrhgrhh. see also: bryce lol) but that fucking clipppp the casual intimacyyyy the casual mindless way kyle trots to lamar talking to the coaches and slaps at his shoulder and decides to just latch on to him locking his wrists??? the hell is he doing??? CUTE. ARGHRGH. i didnt even know he moved this way btw 😭😭 and lamar's hands coming up to fumble distractedly at kyles wrists like did he even know. who that was. he didnt even really break a stride with his convo and no. 53 didnt even look at kyle weird?? do his guys usually just latch on to him like this. that's so cute the hell. i need to know more. do they do this often. hello. talk to me do they just latch on to him this often hello. hello. how many of his guys just have like. puppy crush on him. because this is what this is to me lmao like. a little hero worship. lamars ass doesn't see what this is 😭 he's fucking oblivious. (god you gotta tell me if I'm like reaching or off my fucking rockers or however the saying goes btw like again i got this out of Vibes) -> AND BACK TO DERRICK WHO SEES THIS ->

a little derrick seeing this from the corner of his eye. a little nudge to lamars belly. a little smirk. a little 'what he likes you?' 'what' 'what' 'what do you mean what' 'oh i see you’re a little dumb on things like this thats okay' 'on things like what what do you mean' 'its fine hey were still on this friday right' 'what yeah that fancy place on so so street right why is it so important that i wear a black tie anyway' 'because its supposed to be a date you dumbass god i really do have to spell it out for you' 'what' 'what what' '….what' AUAGHAHDHS CUTE CUTE no really you gotta tell me is my characterization right 😭 like. is it. help me. derrick seems so fucking sure of himself and like so fucking into lamar and lamar is like right back at derrick but!! well i guess for narratives sake im making it seem like lamars fucking oblivious lmaooo so. well.

hence -> yes next friday is a romantic formal dinner date lamar jackson. yes i am asking you out for an actual dinner date. as a romantic partner. that might end the night in making out. and sex, even, if you put out on, like, the sixth date if you actually realize that that's the sixth date—yes, that will be the sixth date, it’s okay, don’t worry about it. no, i won’t slow down, don’t run away. no yes of course you've never run away from something once in your life. yes, we can kiss now, c'mere. 

and do not. get me started. on all of lamar’s fucking reaction. to derrick’s running. and also i think i saw an interview clip of derrick calling lamar L………did i hallucinate that...............also the locker room pics 😭😭 girl derrick pull down your fucking jersey oh my godddd why is he like this why are there so many fucking pics of them just side by side or like shaking?? hands??? idk just in the presence of each other and is it the mandela effect why do i keep recalling him with his tummy out. (vs demure ass lamar covered head to toe idk i feel like i constantly see him in full gear?? is he like easily cold or like is that a stylistic choice or like. is that the norm with him or. like. am i just used to him wearing a shiesty during winter.)

apologies if this is like. more of a mess than my usual answer to asks 😔 whole other ship more unknown to me and like. typed this in my phone instead of on my laptop. answered in between classes which is where i am at life now apparently damn it is that the status quo now fuckjddkjsksksks

also shot myself in the foooottttt lmaoooo complaining abt not getting any jjkoc asks 😭 thank you for sending me asks i am ECSTATICCCCCC to be answering those but damn. when the fuck am i finishing this class 😃 SORRY FOR CONSTANTLY COMPLAINING ABOUT IT BTW SOMEWHERE EVERYWHERE IN THIS BLOG BUT LIKE. FUCK IS THIS SHITTTTT AUGHGUGHUGHUGHUGH abt to kms

[deancasheadcanons]

Slightly Gayer

[ao3]

7.3k words post-15x18 domestic Dean/Cas (loosely) inspired by this artwork by skepticalfrog

Dean is sitting at the kitchen table drinking his coffee and halfheartedly scrolling through the news. He can’t focus because his eyes keep drifting over to the other side of the kitchen, where Cas is cooking breakfast and talking on the phone with Claire.

Cas looks different, is the thing. He’s wearing a pair of bright green boxer briefs and one of Dean’s old gray t-shirts, neither of which fit him right. Since becoming human, Cas exercises constantly, stacking his arms and legs with thickly corded muscle.

But he eats, too, and loves eating as much as Dean does, so his stomach juts out big and round from his muscular chest, several inches of tan underbelly visible out of the bottom of Dean’s shirt. The fabric is caught in the crease between his chest and belly, taut around the outline of his nipple rings. The sleeves are also too tight around his biceps, revealing the Enochian tattoos that extend from shoulder to elbow of each arm.

Dean knows what Cas looks like, of course he knows. He knows every inch of his perfect body. But the way Cas moves, Dean is still getting used to. Still studying.

Cas has the phone tucked between his shoulder and ear, his hands occupied with making pancakes and eggs. He has his weight shifted to one hip, his butt sticking out even more than it already does, and he keeps waving the spatula around animatedly as he talks. He takes a drink of coffee, then scratches his belly, then gestures with his hand, flipping his wrist rather...limply.

He turns around to the kitchen island to plate the pancakes and catches Dean staring at him. He smiles and winks in his direction while continuing his conversation with Claire.

Dean tries to look back down at his phone. He makes it about five seconds before his eyes find their way over to Cas again. He takes a long drink of coffee and sets his mug down as he stands up. He strides over to Cas and comes at him from behind, wrapping his arms around his middle and burying his face in his soft neck. He kisses the tattoo that’s on the juncture of Cas’ collarbone and neck—Dean’s name in Enochian.

“I’ve gotta go, Claire,” Cas says, his voice as deep and gravelly as ever. “Tell Kaia I said hello. Yes. OK, bye.”

Dean squeezes Cas’ belly and presses long, slow kisses to his neck.

Cas turns the stove off and moves the eggs over to a different burner. His hands, now free, fold over top of Dean’s. He laces their fingers together.

“Claire said they’re thinking of coming by to visit in a few days,” Cas says, leaning his weight back against Dean.

“Mm. Good.” Dean continues his kisses.

Cas huffs a laugh and rubs his hand up and down Dean’s forearm. “Feeling affectionate this morning?”

“Always. C’mere.” He tugs at Cas to get him to turn around in his arms, then he fits his hands to his hips and presses his flat torso against Cas’ gut before leaning over and kissing him on the lips.

Cas puts a hand to the side of Dean’s face and the other on the counter behind him, supporting his weight against it. He moans into the kiss, pushing his tongue hungrily into Dean’s mouth and rolling his hips in an intoxicating rhythm.

They stop after a few minutes. Cas keeps his hand on Dean’s face, rubbing the pad of his thumb back and forth across his cheek as he smiles softly up at him.

“What?” Dean asks self-consciously. He circles his own thumbs into Cas’ love handles.

“Nothing,” Cas replies, his smile widening. “You’re just very beautiful.”

Dean ducks back in for another quick kiss. Then, “You move differently than you used to.”

Cas tilts his head to the side, furrows his brow. “What do you mean?”

“You’re, uh, I don’t know. Your mannerisms...you’re more feminine. Gayer.”

Cas laughs and drops his head forward. His hand falls away from Dean’s face, and he flips it out palm up. “Well, Dean, I am gay.”

Now Dean is laughing. He pulls Cas closer to him and once again pushes his face against his neck. “You were just so stiff before.” He pulls back again and looks Cas in the eye. “I don’t like thinking that you were, I don’t know, holding yourself back. Repressed.”

Cas barks out a laugh. “Yes, please, tell me more about how I was repressed.”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up.” He squeezes a soft hip. “I’m starving, let’s eat.”

They sit perpendicular to each other at the kitchen table. Cas rubs one socked foot up and down Dean’s calf while they eat.

“Do I move different?” Dean asks with a mouthful of eggs.

Cas frowns at him, mug of coffee in his hand. “Is that a trick question?”

“Oh god, I do, don’t I?”

“Well, first of all, Dean, your voice is an octave higher than it used to be.”

Dean blushes and shoves more food in his mouth, avoiding eye contact.

Cas leans his elbows on the table, closer to Dean. “And you carry yourself differently. You’ve always been confident in your body, but you don’t posture anymore. You carry yourself in a more relaxed way—like when we’re walking, and you keep one hand in your pocket and the other holding mine. You don’t puff your chest out so much, and it makes you look more natural.”

“Gayer?”

Cas laughs again. “Yes, Dean, I think when you, uh, rub my lower back and kiss my temple while we wait in line at the grocery store or something, you definitely look gayer than you did before.”

Dean reaches over and tangles their hands together, swinging them back and forth playfully on top of the table. “Can’t help it,” he says gently. “If you’re near me, I gotta touch.”

They smile shyly at each other. Cas eventually moves Dean’s hand up to his mouth and kisses his knuckles. “I’m not too gay for you, am I? My mannerisms don’t bother you?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “You’re fishing for a compliment.”

“So give me one.”

He scoots his chair closer to Cas’ and moves his hand under the table, spreading his fingers over one of Cas’ thick thighs and squeezing the soft muscle. “I’m fucking thrilled that you’re comfortable in your own skin, sweetheart. I love the new ways you move, and I love how you’ve made your body your own. I get distracted staring at you so much that I can’t even read one crap news article without looking at you.”

Cas takes a deep breath. A tear slips down his cheek, and he wipes it away delicately. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to hearing you say stuff like that to me. Not even in my most self-indulgent fantasies did I imagine...”

Dean laughs and tugs on Cas’ shirtsleeve, coaxing him over to him, patting his legs so Cas straddles his lap. Once they’re settled, Dean rubs soothing circles into Cas’ back fat and looks up at him reverently.

“I’ll always think you deserve better than me, but, uh,” Dean starts. “I guess if you want me instead of somebody better, then I gotta be the best version of myself. I’m sorry I wasn’t this me sooner.”

Cas presses their foreheads together. “You mean this gayer version?”

Dean laughs into a kiss. “Only took you confessing your love and dying for me to get my head out of my ass.”

Cas puts a finger to the tip of Dean’s nose. “No, actually, it took more than that. Seven months after I came back, Dean. It took you seven months.”

Dean winces. “Worth the wait?”

Cas sighs and kisses Dean’s cheek before climbing laboriously off his lap, grunting as his gut shifts. He pulls at the hem of his boxer briefs to get them down over his huge thighs; Dean pinches his butt as he walks away.

In the time it takes Cas to refill their coffee mugs, Dean’s phone rings.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean answers.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Sam asks.

As Cas comes back and hands Dean a mug, sliding his arm gently across his shoulders before making his way to his seat, Dean says, “Having breakfast with the love of my life. What do you need?”

“Eileen and I are going on a hunt, gonna take a few days. Can we drop Jack by later today?”

“What? The kid can’t stay by himself in the bunker?”

Cas flattens his lips and raises his eyebrows, silently chastising Dean. Dean throws his hand up and shrugs.

“He’s 4, Dean,” Sam says.

“He’s as powerful as God, Sam.”

Jack’s voice comes through the phone, sounding far away. “I don’t like staying here by myself. It’s lonely.”

“Of course you can stay here, kid,” Dean says loudly enough for Jack to hear. To Sam, he says, “But make sure you stop by the store on your way and pick up some food for him, because Cas and I are on a diet.”

“Seriously?” Sam asks.

“No,” Dean scoffs. “C’mon, dude. I’m sure the kid’ll be thrilled to get some real food instead of whatever rabbit food crap you and Eileen feed him.”

Cas snorts a laugh and tucks back into his stack of pancakes, pouring more syrup over them before taking a bite. Dean watches him, obsessed with the dainty way he holds his fork.

“You know, it’s gonna catch up to you one day,” Sam says. “You’ll wake up and suddenly realize you look like Cas.”

“Mm,” Dean hums, eyes still glued to Cas. “You mean I’ll be hot as shit?”

Cas winks at him.

“Yeah, I walked right into that one,” Sam mutters. “See you this afternoon.”

“Bye, Sam.” He hangs up.

“I don’t know why you goad him into judging our eating habits,” Cas says. “He asks about my weight every time I lift with him.”

“What? I’ll kill him.”

“No, it’s—”

“Where’s my gun? I’m gonna kill him.”

“Dean,” Cas says, exasperated. “He only asks because he doesn’t see me every day. You’d notice I was getting bigger, too, if you only saw me every week or so.”

Dean pouts at him, offended. “I touch you and stare at you constantly every day, of course I fucking notice. You’re big, Cas. And you take good care of yourself. Sam can mind his own fucking business.”

“I don’t need you to defend my honor to your brother, you insane man.” Cas stands and picks up their plates to take them to the sink. “And you need to limit the number of ‘fucks’ you say when Jack gets here.”

“Jesus, when did you become such a nagging wife?”

Cas turns away from the sink, sets a hand on the shelf of his belly, and says in a deadpan, “When I became pregnant with our third child.”

It’s a joke he stole from Dean, but Dean still lets out an embarrassing laugh like it’s the first time he’s heard it. He then joins Cas in the kitchen, hugging him from behind again and sneaking a hand up under his shirt so he can cup one of his pecs, teasing his thumb over his piercing. He kisses the shell of his ear as he mumbles, “I’ll clean up in here. I know you wanna go work out.”

Cas shuffles around in his arms and kisses him languidly. Even though they’ve been together for months and have shared at least a thousand kisses, a thrilling warmth washes over Dean’s body every time Cas initiates.

“What?” Cas asks gently when they break apart.

Dean kisses him again, squeezes his sides. “I just love you so much.”

Cas fights his smile and fails. He runs a hand up through Dean’s hair, which Dean is growing out, because Cas likes to touch it. “I love you so much, too.”

“C’mere.” Dean pulls him into a hug, wrapping his arms around his back and holding him tight, nuzzling his face in his neck while Cas fists his hands in the back of Dean’s t-shirt. “Loved you for so long. Should’ve told you sooner.”

“Yeah, you should’ve.” Cas squeezes him. “I should’ve, too.”

Dean clears his throat as they break apart. “We’ve turned into the biggest fucking saps. Go, go lift your silly weights.” He shoos Cas out of the kitchen and smacks his butt as he goes. “And hey! Don’t forget to walk your sweaty body through here on your way to the shower.”

Over his shoulder, Cas says, “Of course. I would never deprive you of that, Dean.”

When Dean finishes cleaning the kitchen, he heads to the living room where they’ve set up a workspace to help hunters out. Sure, it would be easier to do the job from the bunker, but Dean and Cas wanted their own space, a homier environment for hunters to stop by and rest. They have a room for Jack, a room for Claire and Kaia, and two extra bedrooms for anybody else who shows up—although, one of the rooms is half-full of Cas’ exercise equipment.

Dean has his eye on a rundown bar down the road, too, but not enough time has passed since they committed crimes to get a loan for their house, so he has to wait before they can buy it.

While Dean is doing research for a case that Garth is working on, Jody calls.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Dean answers, putting her on speaker.

“I’m three hours from your place,” she says, sounding tired. “Can you guys take the kid again for just, like, one week? Please.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course, Jody,” Dean replies, his posture straightening with excitement. “But you already knew that, because you’re already driving her over here.”

Jody laughs. “Yeah. Thanks, Dean. See you soon.”

Dean shoots a text to Sam: Raven’s gonna be here, too. ETA?

Sam texts back right away: Whenever we feel like it o’clock.

Bitch, Dean types.

Whore, Sam replies.

When Dean and Cas got together, they didn’t get the chance to tell Sam. They were on a hunt, and Sam was at the motel doing research while Dean and Cas ate dinner at a bar nearby. Cas was talking about the case and reached over and stole a fry off of Dean’s plate, and something about the gesture broke something inside of Dean. He blurted out, “I love you, too,” like a fucking idiot, causing Cas to nearly choke on the fry.

The truth was that Dean was in shock when Cas came back from the Empty, and he could not believe that this ancient unknowable being actually loved him. But then Cas was human, and ordinary, and he grew more comfortable around Dean as his body filled out. Easy warmth and affection radiated from him, like loving Dean was as natural to him as breathing.

And Dean knew that his own feelings couldn’t be buried anymore. They were clawing their way to the surface with each day that passed, until finally they burst free with an I love you, too over a stolen goddamn French fry.

They finished their meal quickly and quietly, then they walked out to the Impala together and Dean couldn’t wait a second longer than the nearly 13 years he’d already waited, so he pushed Cas up against the driver’s side door and kissed him.

“Oh,” Cas breathed between their mouths.

“What?” Dean mumbled.

“I didn’t—realize—when—”

Dean moved to kissing Cas’ softening jaw and neck so that his mouth was free to talk.

“I wasn’t sure you meant you loved me like this,” Cas explained.

Dean abruptly pulled away. “Oh. Uh, did you not—we don’t have to if you don’t want—”

Cas cut him off with a bruising kiss. “No, no, I definitely want.”

“Thank god.”

It had taken all of their willpower to get in the car and drive back to the motel, and Dean had barely put her in park before dragging Cas to the backseat and messily stripping clothes off. There wasn’t nearly enough space, so they ended up rutting against each other while making out like horny teenagers, and that’s when Sam knocked on the window.

Dean cracked it the smallest amount, his body still tangled with Cas. “We’re a little busy here, Sammy.”

“Yeah, uh, I’m gonna get another room so you guys don’t have to do...this...out here.”

“Sammy, you’re the best brother in the world,” Dean said stupidly as he and Cas struggled out of the backseat, holding their clothes half-on, shirts and overshirts and jackets in hand and jeans unbuttoned. Dean dragged Cas by the hand up to their room.

And so Sam (homophobically, in Dean’s opinion) started calling Dean “whore” instead of “jerk.”

Dean is typing on his laptop when Cas clears his throat from the hall. Dean looks up immediately, raking his eyes up and down Cas’ glistening, swollen body as he walks shirtless toward their bedroom.

“Hey, hey, hey, no, come back here,” Dean says, scrambling to get up, tripping over his own feet, then finally making it to Cas so he can squeeze his biceps and press kisses to his sweaty shoulder.

Dean moves his mouth down Cas’ collarbone and chest, hunching his body so he can get a better angle as he works his tongue around a nipple ring.

Cas cards a hand through Dean's hair. “Do you want to shower with me?” he asks patiently.

Dean reluctantly lets go of his nipple and straightens up. “Does a bear shit in the woods?”

Their shower is just big enough for both of them, but it’s too difficult to do much more than wash each other’s bodies. They talk loudly to each other over the spray, which is why neither of them hear the front door open and Sam and Eileen announce their arrival.

Dean walks out to the kitchen wearing a towel around his waist and one around his hair. Sam and Eileen are making sandwiches while Jack sits on a barstool at the island reading a book.

“Oh, hey, guys,” Dean says. He grabs a La Croix out of the fridge and takes a long drink. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

Cas comes in next, wearing just boxer briefs, his wet hair dripping water onto his body. He greets everyone then puts a hand on the small of Dean’s back and kisses his cheek. He takes the La Croix right out of his hand and drinks it before giving it back.

“Cas, are your nipples pierced?” Eileen asks, shocked.

“Oh, yeah,” Cas says flippantly. He pats the tattoo of Dean’s name on his shoulder. “Dean talked me into it when I got this.”

Dean mutters, “Not like you needed much convincing.”

“So are you guys gonna bother putting clothes on, or…?” Sam asks bitchily.

“Oh, I’m so sorry for existing in my own house,” Dean teases. He settles against Cas’ side; Cas wraps his arm around his hip. “Maybe if somebody had told us when they would be here, we could’ve been ready.”

“Yeah, well, we were anxious to get here,” Sam says, looking pointedly at Eileen. “We have some news.”

“Uh-oh, this sounds like something I should be wearing clothes for,” Dean says.

“I’m pregnant,” Eileen says and signs. She makes a face like she’s sorry about it.

Cas sucks in a sharp breath. Dean’s eyes widen.

“Yeah, uh.” Sam sighs and throws a hand up. “We’re not totally sure how we feel about it, you know, never really planned on…”

“We don’t want to stop hunting,” Eileen finishes for him. “But if there’s a good reason to stop, this is it.”

“We can help,” Dean says quickly. He nervously sets his water down on the counter so he can sign and talk. “You know we’re always willing to take care of a kid. Especially a baby.” He looks over at Jack. “No offense, Jack.”

“I told them I would help, too,” Jack says cheerfully. “I would love a little brother or sister. And I can heal most injuries other than death, so if they keep hunting while Eileen is pregnant, it’ll be OK.”

“We’ll be here every step of the way,” Cas adds. “Whatever you need.”

“Yeah,” Sam says solemnly. “We know it’ll be OK, we’re just...I don’t know, I’m just not naturally maternal like you, Dean.”

“Come here, Sammy,” Dean says, walking away from Cas and putting his hand up on Sam’s shoulder to bring him down for a hug. “You’re already a great dad. You’re not gonna fuck the kid up, I promise.”

Sam laughs and squeezes Dean once before letting go. He frowns down at Dean’s bare torso and says, “OK, go get some clothes on, please.” Under his breath, he mutters, “I don’t understand how you and Cas even fit in a shower together.”

“Hey.” Dean points a menacing finger at him. “If you don’t lay off my boyfriend, he’s gonna use his massively buff arms to kick your ass.”

“No, I’m not,” Cas says in a monotone, flipping his wrist to blow Dean off. He kisses Eileen on the cheek as he leaves the kitchen.

“What? I’m not—I don’t care what Cas looks like,” Sam says. He opens the fridge and gestures dramatically to it. “I just think it would be good every now and then if you guys ate, like, one vegetable.” He looks Dean up and down. “Also the fact that Cas works out and you don’t, you look like a skinny little beanpole next to him. He makes you look ridiculous.”

Dean crosses his arms and pouts. “He likes how I look. Says it makes him feel big and strong when he picks me up.”

Sam and Eileen both laugh. Eileen asks, “He picks you up? What, like during sex?”

Dean blushes. He halfheartedly says and signs, “No, I mean, like, when I fall asleep on the couch and he carries me to our bed.”

Sam and Eileen laugh harder.

“I think it’s sweet,” Jack interjects. “I would never laugh at your relationship with Cas, Dean. You two love each other very much.”

Eileen rolls her eyes. “Yeah, perfect little angel over here has never said a mean word about anybody in his life. We get it, Jack, you’re better than us.”

Jack straightens his back and smiles, proud of himself. Dean passes by him on his way out of the kitchen and squeezes his shoulder in thanks.

“A baby, huh?” Dean asks excitedly as he rummages through his and Cas’ closet for some clothes. “We should plan on staying in the bunker with them for the first few months, you know, help them out and stuff.”

Cas scoffs from the master bath. “You just want to hold a newborn.”

“Yeah, so what?” Dean joins him in the bathroom, taking his towels off his head and waist and hanging them back up on the racks. He takes a piss while Cas stands at the sink messing with his hair.

Cas is wearing a pair of black joggers and a faded pink tank top, a denim overshirt sitting on the counter. A long chain rests against his chest between his big pecs, three rings hanging from them. Two of the rings are Dean’s old ones, and the third is a new one Dean picked out for him when they moved into their house together.

Dean checks his hip against Cas’, nudging him out of the way so he can wash his hands at the sink.

“Does it bother you that we can’t just accidentally have children?” Cas asks, turning toward Dean seriously, unaffected by his naked body.

“What? No,” Dean answers. “Why, does it bother you?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

Dean grabs deodorant and pushes Cas’ arm up so he can apply it for him. “We got plenty of kids, honey.” He does the other arm. “And we’re old. I don’t need us to be the sole provider of a child for the next 18 years.” He picks up the denim shirt and helps Cas put it on.

Cas places a gentle hand on Dean’s bare hip and rubs his thumb in circles against his skin. “I just think...I think about how perfect Jack is, and how if I was still an angel and could’ve borrowed a female vessel for a while, then maybe we could’ve…”

“Jesus Christ, Cas.” He pats the slope of his belly. “OK, no more jokes about you being pregnant. It’s fucking with your head.”

“Mm, yeah.” He leans forward and presses a kiss to Dean’s mouth. “Now be honest with me, does this shirt make me look fat?”

Dean laughs as Cas expands his big stomach out and pulls at the fabric of the tank top to make it tight.

“You look perfect, sweetheart.” Dean jiggles his belly. “Fat and very gay.”

“Thank you.”

Dean puts on his usual jeans and flannel over a plain black t-shirt. He also has a necklace with a ring Cas gave him, but he wears it under his clothes and out of sight. He likes feeling it against his skin.

They eat a quick lunch with everybody before Sam and Eileen head out for their hunt. Cas and Jack go in the backyard to tend to Cas’ garden, which is full of beautiful flowers and absolutely no vegetables.

Jody shows up right when she said she would, and she passes Raven off to Dean before she’s even stepped in the door.

“I’m gonna spend the night here if you don’t mind,” Jody announces as she kicks her boots off.

Dean is cooing at the baby and tickling her belly with one finger. Right now she has dark olive skin and a head full of black hair and big gray eyes, but that could change any minute. Jody got her just a few months ago when she was trying to help her mom, a teenage shapeshifter, but the girl had a lot of complications and died during childbirth. She asked Jody to name the baby Raven after Mystique from X-Men.

Jody, claiming that she’s too old to raise a baby on her own, brings Raven over to Dean and Cas’ for at least one week per month.

“Dean?” Jody presses.

“Hmm?”

“I said I’m gonna stay here tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine.” He kisses the baby’s head. “Cas and Jack are outside. Make yourself at home.”

Under her breath, Jody says, “Give a baby to Dean Winchester if you want him not to pay attention to you at all.” She walks to the kitchen and puts on a teapot.

Cas barges in the back door and makes a beeline for Dean, his hands outstretched. “Baby,” he commands.

Dean frowns but hands Cas the baby anyway. He knows if he tries to hog her, he and Cas will have a petty fight about it later.

“Yeah, good to see you, too, Cas,” Jody says, still talking in a dejected tone, grabbing mugs out of the cabinet. “You look good, you been working out? Of course you have, look at you. Yeah, I know, I look good, too. New haircut. Thanks.”

“Hello, Jody,” Cas greets, turning toward her but keeping his eyes on the baby cradled in his arms. She looks impossibly small in his hold. “Your hair looks very nice.”

“Well, thank you, Cas,” Jody says smugly. “Would you like some tea?”

“Are you offering us tea in our own house?” Dean asks.

“You told me to make myself at home.”

Cas moves Raven up to his shoulder, spreading his long, thin fingers over her back to keep her in place with just one hand. With his other hand, he pulls out a barstool at the island and takes a seat. His tank top gets stuck between his underbelly and his lap, and Dean watches, transfixed, as Cas demurely lifts his butt off the chair and flicks his free hand against his shirt to unstick it.

“Dean? You OK?” Jody asks, amused.

“Hmm?” Dean whips his head toward her. “Yeah, sorry.”

“You looked a little lost there for a second, buddy.”

“Oh, yeah,” Dean says. “I don’t know if you know this, but I’m very obsessed with Cas.”

Jody laughs. “It’s impossible to even make fun of you anymore. Like, if you’re going to be blissfully happy, at least act a little embarrassed about it.”

Dean walks over to Cas and puts his arm across his middle, presses his cheek firmly against the side of Cas’ chubby face and looks at Jody as he says, “No.”

“Jody, I would love a cup of tea,” Cas says, ignoring Dean. “Thank you.”

Raven fusses and nuzzles against Cas’ shoulder, so Dean reaches his arms out for her and says, “Too much muscle in your shoulder, she can’t get comfy.”

As Cas hands the baby over, he says, “Yes, because your bony body is so much better.”

“Do you guys even like each other?” Jody interrupts.

“No,” Dean and Cas answer in unison. They then look at each other and smile.

Cas asks Jody about the girls, which gets her on a long-winded rant, so Dean kisses Cas’ hair and heads out the back door with Raven. He walks across the porch and takes a seat on the porch swing and watches as Jack stands in front of a flower, says something to it, then moves onto the next flower and says something else.

“Are you talking to every flower, kid?” Dean calls.

Jack turns and tilts his head with a gentle smile. “I didn’t hear you come out here, Dean. Yes, I’m giving each of them longer lifespans.”

“Oh. Well, thanks.”

It’s mesmerizing, swinging back and forth and watching Jack tend to the flowers. Raven falls asleep quickly, tucked up facedown against Dean’s chest with her head turned to the side.

“See, I’m plenty easy enough to fall asleep on,” he mutters to her.

Jody comes outside a few minutes later, tea in hand. Dean scoots over so she has room to sit next to him on the swing. She doesn’t say anything, just takes a seat and drops her head to his shoulder.

“You know we can keep the kid longer if you need us to,” he says. “Cas has baby fever, so I’m sure he’d be thrilled.”

“Hm. I might,” Jody considers. “Alex is really attached to her though. I am, too, but. I don’t know. It’s different for me.”

“You never thought about having a baby again in your life, did you?”

“No.”

“Hmm.”

Cas walks out next and stops right outside the door, staring straight ahead at Jack. Cas has both his wrists bent against his hips, hands palm out, straight-back posture making his gut look more pronounced than it already is.

“Hey, Jody,” Dean starts, his eyes on Cas.

“Hmm?”

“Do you think Cas is different? I mean, different than how he was as an angel.”

Jody snorts. “Um. That Cas looks like he would eat angel Cas for breakfast.”

“No, I don’t mean—” Now Dean is laughing, too. “Obviously he looks different. I mean, like, the way he’s standing right now. Don’t you think it looks a little…you know…”

“Gay?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, yeah, but only slightly gayer than he used to act.”

Dean balks at that. “What? Really?”

“Honey, I knew Cas was gay the second time I met him. Sure, he’s definitely more comfortable and open and maybe a little more, uh, effeminate now, but he’s always been pretty clearly gay. No offense, you just weren’t paying attention.”

“Hm. Well, I’m paying attention now. Very close attention.” He surreptitiously licks his lips.

After a pause, Jody asks, “How did you live so many years of your life unaware of how horny you are for him?”

Dean puffs out a breath. “Shit, I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. Like, I have a sleeping baby on me right now—one of my favorite things in the world—and yet it’s taking all of my willpower to keep sitting here with you instead of going to put my stupid hands all over him.”

Cas turns toward them then, offering a close-mouthed smile and a delicate wave of his hand, totally oblivious. “Jack is talking to the flowers,” he says loudly.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean says back, less loudly so as not to wake the baby. “Powerful as God, and he’s here talking to our fucking plants.”

Cas furrows his brow. “What did I say about cursing?”

Dean rolls his eyes.

They all hang out outside until Raven wakes up and cries for food, so Dean takes her inside and paces around the kitchen while he gives her a bottle. Cas walks through on his way to the bathroom, and Dean stops him with a, “Hey. C’mere.”

“What?” Cas asks, smiling as he closes the distance between them.

Dean leans to the side, keeping the baby steady as he kisses Cas on the lips.

Cas shakes his head when they pull apart. “You have zero impulse control.”

“See Cas, touch Cas. That’s how my brain works.”

His smile widens. “You’re lucky I’m patient.”

Later, Dean is in charge of getting Raven down for the night, Jody is taking a nap upstairs, and Jack and Cas are out picking up takeout for dinner.

The four of them eat at the kitchen table, and Dean inhales his food quickly so he can relax and sling an arm over the back of Cas’ chair while everyone else finishes. He rubs and scratches at Cas’ back while they all talk, occasionally looking over to watch Cas eat. With how muscular he is, Cas would have to have a high-calorie diet even if he didn’t also just love food, but still he eats slowly and properly as he demolishes at least twice as much as everybody else.

Dean, itching to move and sick of being in the same spot for too long, eventually leans over and nips and kisses at Cas’ neck and face, forcing him to eat even slower. Every so often, Cas turns and pecks Dean on the lips in acknowledgment of his ministrations.

“Dean, you look smaller every time I come over here,” Jody says.

“No, optical illusion. It's 'cause Cas is getting bigger,” Dean responds. He pats a loving hand against Cas’ full belly. “He can’t help that he looks extremely cute like this.”

Mouth full of food, Cas turns his head and kisses Dean’s temple in thanks.

“No, I definitely think you’ve lost weight,” Jody continues.

“Yeah, I think you have,” Cas says. “Not that you weren’t skinny before, but you’ve lost weight since you stopped drinking.”

“Mm. Yeah, I guess.” Dean puts a hand on his own stomach, noting how flat it is. He ignores the heat rising to his cheeks at the basic knowledge that Cas notices things about him.

After dinner, Jack asks if they can watch a movie together in the living room, which they of course oblige. Dean can count on zero hands the amount of times he and Cas have told Jack “no” when he’s at their house.

Cas privately asks Jody if she wants a glass of wine, which she turns down. Dean sees the conversation take place as he’s turning the TV on due to his inability to take his eyes off Cas for even one minute.

Jack, god help him, picks some tragic foreign language film and sits cross-legged on the couch with Jody. Cas and Dean settle in sideways on the loveseat, Cas’ back up against the armrest and one leg hanging off the side so Dean can sit between his thighs and rest back against his chest. Dean rubs his fingertips against Cas’ knee and listens to him unwrap candy after candy, occasionally offering one to Dean.

After about 15 minutes, Dean turns his head and cocks an eyebrow at Cas.

Cas looks back at him, confused, as he puts another candy in his mouth. “What?” he whispers.

“You’ve had, like, 20 of those.”

Cas’ face changes into gay bitchiness as he unwraps another one. “Now who’s the nagging wife?”

“Can you two can it?” Jody asks at a regular volume. “I’m trying to hear what these sad French people are saying.”

Dean ignores her and whispers to Cas, “I don’t give a shit about you stuffing your face, babe, I just wish your hands were more Dean-focused.”

“Oh. Of course, Dean.” Cas tosses a wrapper aside and puts his arms around Dean’s torso, squeezing him firmly back against him.

“Mm, that’s better.” Dean snuggles down and bends his arm up to feel Cas’ bicep.

Jody shushes them again.

Cas presses a chocolatey kiss to the bolt of Dean’s jaw and moves one hand across his waist, teasing with the waistband of his jeans. Dean grabs his hand, stopping him.

“Not in front of the kid, dude,” Dean says through gritted teeth.

“I’m not doing anything,” Cas says innocently, his lips still on Dean’s skin.

Jack pauses the movie and looks over at them with a smile. In a sweet, polite tone, he asks, “I don’t mean to be rude, but can you guys please shut the fuck up?”

Cas nudges his head against Dean’s in fake annoyance. “What did I tell you? What did I fucking tell you, Dean?”

Dean can’t stop laughing. “Yes, Jack, we’ll shut the fuck up.”

With nobody to talk to and with Cas carding his perfect fingers through his hair, Dean falls asleep within 10 minutes. He half-wakes up a little while later and finds himself curled up on his side with his legs pulled up to his chest, using his big boyfriend as a bed, his big arms a blanket, big pecs a pillow. Cas’ chest vibrates beneath his ear as he whispers something to Jody, but Dean doesn’t hear it. He balls his hand into a fist and nuzzles his face against Cas’ shirt like a baby and falls back asleep.

When he wakes up again, it’s because Cas is trying to carefully lift him up and take him to bed. He wraps both arms around Cas’ neck and his legs around his waist and hangs on tight as Cas stands, only one of his muscular arms wrapped around Dean’s butt to hold him in place.

“Wow, he really has you whipped,” Jody whispers to Cas.

Cas responds completely seriously, “Why else would I exercise so much if not for this?”

“G’night, Jody,” Dean mutters against Cas’ neck.

“Night, little baby Dean.”

Dean smiles, his eyes still closed. “I like that.”

Jody sighs. “Seriously. Impossible to make fun of him.”

Cas starts walking toward their room as he says, “Dean is an all or nothing person. So many years with so much shame, now he has absolutely none.”

“Hmm. Yeah,” Jody replies. “Night, Cas.”

Dean is fully awake by the time Cas lays him gently down on the bed. He gets up immediately, changes into pajamas and goes to the master bath to brush his teeth. Cas joins him at the sink, wearing just boxer briefs and one of Dean’s shirts. It barely covers his belly button.

“You can’t possibly be comfortable in that,” Dean mumbles with a mouth full of foamy toothpaste. “I don’t get why you’re still wearing my shirts to bed. I told you, you stretch them out and then I can’t wear them.”

Cas spits his own toothpaste into the sink and looks up at Dean through the mirror as he wipes his mouth. “Until the sleeves cut off circulation in my arms, I will keep wearing your shirts to bed.”

Dean pulls at the hem of one of the sleeves, pointing out where Cas snipped it with scissors. “Cheater.”

Once they’re in bed, Dean presses up against Cas’ side, throws one leg over him, buries his face in the crook of his neck, squeezes his butt.

“Finally,” Dean says against his skin. “I’ve been dying to touch you all day.”

Cas smiles and wraps an arm around Dean’s back, shoving his hand down his pants to grab his ass. “Yes, and you showed remarkable restraint by not touching me at all today.”

“C’mon, you know what I mean.”

Cas hums, thinking. “You don’t like having your attention divided. If you can’t focus fully on me, it feels like you’re being deprived of something.”

“Yeah.” Dean rolls completely on top of Cas and kisses the pocket of fat under his chin. “Don’t let it go to your head, though. It’s not like I’m, like, completely obsessed with you or something crazy like that.”

Cas smiles into a kiss, putting his hand to the side of Dean’s face to pull him down to his lips. Dean groans in the back of his throat and rolls his hips.

“Do you want to have sex?” Cas asks between their mouths, like he almost always does, because he has a take-it-or-leave-it attitude about sex and is perfectly content with any amount of physical contact with Dean, no matter how little. So he leaves it up to Dean: a person who needs to touch Cas so badly all the time that he feels like he’ll die if he doesn’t.

“No, not with us on baby duty,” Dean says. “Let’s just make out until I fall asleep.”

“Mm, that’s exactly what I fell from grace for.”

Dean laughs and pinches his shoulder, kisses the corner of his mouth. “Hey, you knew me when you fell. You knew what you were getting yourself into.”

Cas’ face softens. He rubs the pad of his thumb slowly across Dean’s cheek. “I did. I was willing to give up everything without ever even knowing what your lips feel like against mine. So, excuse me for thinking every second with you now is just icing on the cake.”

Dean blinks. “You’re getting better at food metaphors now that you eat so much.”

Cas allows him to trivialize the moment. He just simply smiles up at him as he wipes a tear from Dean’s face.

So Dean closes his eyes and kisses him, slowly, until he falls asleep.

-----

Dean wakes up to the sound of Raven crying over the baby monitor. She only cried once during the night, when she shapeshifted into a fat pale baby with brown eyes and thin hair and needed a bottle and a change before going back to sleep. Now it’s morning, and Dean blinks awake to the sunlight streaming onto his face. He’s on his stomach, arms wrapped around a pillow under his head, his skin unreasonably warm.

He shifts and feels Cas’ heavy arm draped across his back, his chubby hip squished against his side. Dean shuffles and turns, picking Cas’ arm up and kissing his hand before setting it on the bed and standing up.

Cas is also facedown on the bed, but instead of getting up, he burrows deeper and mumbles sleepily, “Start the coffee, please.”

Dean pinches a sliver of his love handle and leans down to kiss his cheek. “I’ll bring you a cup. Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

Cas snores softly in response.

It’s early. The house is dimly lit and quiet, and Dean takes his time changing and feeding Raven. When she’s done with her bottle, he puts her on his hip and carries her out to the back porch to listen to the birds. His phone rings.

“Yeah?” Dean answers.

“Hey,” Sam says. “So, uh.”

“Spit it out, Sam.”

“You know our new rule?”

“Not monsters until they act monstrous,” Dean says, his heart racing. “What happened?”

“Nothing too bad. It’s just that, uh, we think this pack of werewolves may have abandoned their, uh, young.”

“How old? How many?” Dean asks quickly.

“Twins. They’re small, Dean. Six months at most.”

Dean looks at Raven then at the garden in front of him. He thinks about Cas, about how wonderful of a father he is, about what he said yesterday. Then he says, “Well. Bring ‘em here if there’s no other option. We got the space.”

[beckzorz]

If The Shoe Fits

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Words: 8771 Summary: An assassination at the Jelly Belly factory goes haywire when SHIELD arrives on the scene. Warnings: NSFW (language, mentions of child pornography, smut), 18+ A/N: Happy Fourth! This is part 3 of my Looks to Die For series, written for Attie’s Challenge Challenge! Thank you @barnesrogersvstheworld! My prompt was, “You love me?” Hope you enjoy!

A portrait of Captain America. Two portraits, really, since there’s one of Steve Rogers and another of Sam Wilson.

“Huh,” you say.

The little boy gaping beside you nods enthusiastically before his attention is drawn elsewhere. You can’t quite blame him. Captain America—either or both—are fascinating, but there’s a lot going on here. Portraits line the walls. Two versions of Marilyn Monroe, one of Harry Potter, a wall of animals. There’s three whole portraits of Ronald Reagan, of all people. You can’t think why.

Not exactly what you were expecting from the Jelly Belly Bean Art Gallery.

The animals, yes. Past presidents? Not so much.

Still, it’s a far cry from your last job. Even with the absurd college student getup you’ve got on, an air conditioned factory beats the jungle any day.

You trace the sharp line of Steve Rogers’ jaw with your eyes, then step sideways to inspect Sam Wilson. Two beacons of justice, and you’ve only got two questions in mind.

One: what would they think of you?

And two: why doesn’t Bucky Barnes get a Jelly Belly portrait?

You’ve half a mind to march up to the tour guide to demand an answer to question two—he’s not likely to have an answer to question one, is he?—but a ping in your ear diverts your attention.

“Time to go,” comes Kasie’s voice.

Your lips curve into a little smile as you saunter to the tour guide. “Nature calls,” you murmur, and Kasie snorts in your ear. The tour guide turns to you with a helpful smile as you reach his side. “Excuse me, where’s the bathroom?”

—

On your way down the hall to the bathroom, you pass a tall blond man wheeling a janitor’s cart. A slight smile and a tilt of his head is all the acknowledgement he gives you.

Apart from the two of you, the hall is abandoned.

As soon as you pass him, you veer to the side, following his head tilt, and burst through a set of doors marked PRIVATE. The neutral look on your face morphs into a dark smirk.

Time to get to work.

—

Twenty-four minutes later, you’re sitting at a desk with your feet propped up. Under the desk, the curled-up corpse of the man whose name graces the office door. The computer is running a program from a thumb drive you’d hidden in your bra. An effective weapon, a thumb drive. Jab it into someone’s eye, they scream. Jab it into a computer port, and with the right coding…

Well, there’s money moving in your direction. Payment for a job well done, on top of your cut for the heart attack you’ve just induced. And a little bit more.

With gloved hands, you pick up a paperweight shaped like a clump of jelly beans.

“Y’know,” you say into the open air, “it’s strange getting paid to murder someone involved in making candy. Candy makes children happy.”

“Well, this guy was doing plenty to make children unhappy,” Kasie says.

“Oh, sure. No doubt about it.” Your lip curls distastefully. It had been all too easy to find his stash of child pornography. On his work computer, no less. Your stomach had damn near curdled at the endless scroll of files. You hadn’t opened any, but dear lord, even the file names and preview images had been more than you could stomach. And the job brief hadn’t said anything about exposing the bastard, but if he happened to be discovered dead in his office from a heart attack with that folder easily accessible…

Well, you won’t complain. Maybe it’ll help the police catch a few more perverts. Assuming the company doesn’t just hush the whole thing up, but a hint dropped in the right ears will go a long way if it comes to that.

The right ears. Your face softens and your stomach settles. All the sugar from the tasting rooms and the nausea from finding that obscene stash fades as you think of the right ears, and the head between them.

Bucky. A good, nice head on good, nice shoulders on a good, nice body… Thinking about him while you’re waiting for the program to finish running is an excellent distraction. Better than thinking about the horrible things the man at your feet had gotten up to during his lifetime.

“Oh fuck.”

Your head perks up. Kasie’s voice is strangled.

“What?” you blurt.

“SHIELD is here,” Kasie hisses.

“Why are you whispering?” you snap. You stand up, hands curled around the edge of the desk as you try and steady your racing heart. Your eyes dart around the office, but it’s empty. Just you, and a corpse at your feet. “This channel is secure.”

“Fuck you. Get the hell out of there. Now.”

“No way!” You slap the desk. Your hands tremble, and you clutch the desk again. “I’m almost done. If I can get all the shit on this guy—”

“It’s too risky!” Kasie exclaims. “I am not letting you get caught in SHIELD’s crossfires again, you hear?”

“SHIELD can suck my dick,” you snap. “I’m not giving up on this. Whoever this guy was getting his shit from deserves exactly what I just gave him.”

Faint popping through your earpiece. You freeze.

“Luka?”

Silence.

“Luka, what’s your status?” Kasie says, voice barely steady.

More radio silence. Bated breath as you wait for the third in your trio to respond.

A klaxon wails.

“Fuck,” you say.

“Evacuation,” Luka breathes, just loud enough for you to hear under the alarms. Relief floods through you until he speaks again. “Guns.”

“Okay that’s it,” Kasie announces. “I’m calling this off. That’s an order.”

“Just two more minutes,” you beg. Your knuckles, curled so tightly around the edge of the desk, are white under the plastic gloves as you stare at the download bar for your thumb drive. You’re so close. The drive is almost done, and then you can deliver the wrath of god. SHIELD has nothing on you. You survived the last time, that night you met Bucky Barnes through a rifle scope. This can’t possibly go any worse.

Kasie doesn’t answer. 

Well, silence from her is close enough to a yes for you. You sink back into the chair, limbs stiff. The alarm is still wailing. Your foot knocks against the body under the desk.

Two minutes? Enough time to rearrange your victim into a plausible slump in his chair. You grunt as you tug him into the open air. You wipe your brow with the back of your wrist before hefting him into his chair by his lapels. There’s nothing worse than deadweight, but then again, that’s just part of the job. A few artful rearrangements of his stiff limbs, and you’re satisfied.

Running footsteps echo in the hallway, louder than the alarm.

“Fuck,” you mutter.

You duck behind the desk, hand hovering right by the thumb drive, and wait until a key scrapes in the lock before pulling it free. The computer beeps unhappily. You tuck the thumb drive in your bra and fold yourself under the desk.

The door unlocks, opens. Two steps, and then a low fuck before the door slams shut.

The man rushes to the desk and the dead man in his chair.

“John? John, you bastard!”

Slap.

Your eyes widen. Hitting a corpse? That’s a bit much, even for you.

“Wake up, you good-for-nothing—”

The stranger is nearly choked up. You can just make out the shadow of his shoes as he shakes the dead man by his lapels. So much for your two minutes.

“Shit.”

The stranger gives up. He nudges the chair over and bends over the keyboard, typing at a rapid fire pace. Then he sucks in a harsh breath. “Oh you bastard…”

Well, he must’ve found the child porn.

“Bribery wasn’t enough for you, huh?” the man mutters. “You sick fuck.” He’s typing again. Your legs are starting to cramp. You’re used to lying flat on rooftops, not stuffing yourself in tiny spaces.

Wait—was that the trash can noise? Is he deleting evidence?

Well that won’t do.

A harsh shove of your foot sends the dead man’s chair careening back into the wall. The typing stops, the stranger drops to one knee, and you barrel into him, arms fastening fast around his neck as you catch him in a chokehold.

“Wha—”

His voice cuts off, his fingers digging painfully tight into your arms as you squeeze the breath out of him. You grit your teeth against his struggles, your tailbone bruising against the floor as he flails his legs. You’re not trying to kill him, just to render—him—unconscious.

One of his hands drops from your arm, reaches into his pocket. Your eyes widen as his thumb swipes. The dial tone.

“Shit,” you mutter. You aim your leg, kick at his hand until he groans, but it’s too late. Someone’s picked up.

“Hello? Rick?”

Rick gasps just loud enough. You tighten your elbow around his neck, his eyes bug out, but he manages it.

“John’s—office—”

Then Rick slumps, finally unconscious.

“Rick? Rick?!”

You wriggle out from under Rick’s prone body and dig his phone out of his pocket. A single click, and his phone’s off. You pat Rick down, but he’s got zero weapons.

“What is it with these people? Why do none of them carry guns?” you grumble.

“It’s because they have armed security,” Luka grumbles in your ear.

“Luka!” You pop to your feet with a delighted grin. The edge of the thumb drive digs into your chest. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be inside in a few minutes to get you,” he says.

Tension melts out of you. “Luka, you sweetheart.” He might look gentle, but Luka’s one of the fiercest close-combat fighters you know. If he can get to you, you’ll both get out safe.

Still, no point in wandering around as unarmed as you are now. You scan the room, desperate for any kind of weapon. Your phone is tucked in the pocket of your leggings, but you’ve still got one pocket free. A pen jar… Aha, there. A letter opener.

“Head to the warehouse,” Kasie says. Her voice is grainy. “Damn, SHIELD’s interfering with my signal. Luka, meet hsssssssssss—”

Kasie’s comm cuts out, but you got the memo.

You heft the letter opener in hand and stalk to the door. One quick breath, a listen for any sounds under the alarm, and you slip into the empty hallway at a light jog. Red lights whir overhead. Distant popping filters through your earpiece, and then comes Luka’s voice.

“See you soon,” he whispers.

A click, and all you can hear is the alarm.

—

Eleven minutes later, Doc Martens slamming on the concrete as you race through a giant warehouse, you’re regretting those extra two minutes.

“Y’know,” you pant, “whoever thought these shoes were a good idea has clearly never had to run in them.”

A gunshot rings out behind you just as you skid around a corner. You don’t look back. The armed security that Rick had summoned had caught up two minutes back, and it’s been a race to the finish. Plus, somewhere SHIELD is lurking, waiting…

Another gunshot. The bullet whizzes so close you can feel its wake. You can hear them behind you yelling at you, yelling about SHIELD on its way—

“Shit shit shit!”

Another corner looms ahead; you take it.

Still running, you pull a pin out of your hair. It’s not a comm device, it’s not a thumb drive, it’s not a bug. It’s a gift from Kasie, the very one who warned you about all this Avengers and SHIELD nonsense from the start.

You hurl yourself between two stacks of boxes before anyone turns down your aisle.

“How long?” you whisper.

“Forty seconds,” Luka answers.

Running footsteps pound close, voices echo closer, and you wince.

“Too long,” you say. “Scram, Luka!”

“Wait—”

You twist the hairpin, lean to the side, and throw it into the aisle. Then you curl into a ball and cover your head with your hands.

A heavy moment, still and quiet save for the slowed footsteps and a confused huh. One single scuff of a shoe as someone bends to look. You suck in one last breath.

An explosion rocks the warehouse. Sound and heat wash over you as the boxes at your back shudder. There’s an overwhelming urge to look, to peek, but you stay curled up, head protected, as the boxes over your head slide and start to fall. The edge of one pokes into your back, hard and painful against your spine, but at this point you can’t move. The crackle of flames is loud in your ears. The sickly smell of burnt sugar tickles your nose, and you cough. Smoke catches in your throat. You gag, eyes still squeezed shut. You breathe straight into the arm of your sweatshirt, shimmying your hands out of the burning plastic gloves and tossing them aside.

At least the running has stopped. All you can hear is a faint ringing, the alarm and something else. No one’s following you anymore, not that you can—

The box at your back flies away. Your eyes pop open and instantly swell with tears from the smoke. Before you can even move, hands are on you, pulling you up, out. Your eyes are burning, so much that you can’t see. Your assailant tugs you against their chest, holding you too tight to escape. You shout, kick, and then you realize that one of the hands on you is metal.

You still. Try and blink the smoke out of your eyes. A black uniform, straps, holsters…

“Bucky?”

“Next time,” Bucky growls, “wait.”

—

You blink the tears from your eyes, grasping weakly at Bucky’s shoulder as he hurries through the smoke. All you can hear is a faint ringing. You hadn’t expected the hairpin bomb to be so loud. Nor so… successful. So destructive?

Bombs aren’t your style. Never have been. But at that kind of disadvantage…

You couldn’t risk it. The data you’ve got—your own life—

Bucky shoves an emergency exit open. The alarm’s already ringing, at least. Smoke billows out over your head as you stumble outside, gasping in the sweet fresh air, clearing your lungs of burnt jellybeans and smoke and fire. You lean heavily against the concrete wall, head tipped back and eyes closed as you catch your breath.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Bucky hisses.

You open your eyes slowly, still breathing heavily. Your vision is still blurry, and it’s hard to make his expression out right away. “Just that I wanted to not get shot.”

Bucky glares at you. You blink, confused. It’s not like he hasn’t had to make spur-of-the-moment choices.

“I didn’t have a gun, and I can’t run as fast as you. What else was I supposed to do?”

“You didn’t tell me you’d be here!”

“You didn’t tell me you’d be here, either.” You close your eyes again. You hadn’t breathed in that much smoke, but after that sprint through the warehouse, it was enough to drain you. Anyway, Bucky’s seen you turn into a puddle before. Hell, he’s made you turn into a puddle before. You bat those thoughts away and force your eyes back open. “If I’d known there were SHIELD shenanigans going on, maybe I would have brought a gun.”

A muscle jumps in his jaw. “Why the hell didn’t you? How can you just walk in somewhere that dangerous so fucking unprepared—”

“Not all of us can flash a shiny badge to get through security, Bucky.” You gesture at yourself, at your smoking sweatshirt and the Doc Martens and the leggings. His scowl doesn’t fade, and you frown at him. “Why are you so damn pissed?”

“You should’ve known better.”

“Somehow I managed just fine in worse scrapes than this before you came along.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I wasn’t dealing with so much shit before I met you! No one was impersonating me, no one was blowing my cover to SHIELD, no one was making my jobs impossible—”

“Well I’m not giving up my job,” Bucky says flatly. “I can’t.”

You purse your lips. “Neither can I, Bucky.”

He raises an eyebrow. You scrub a hand down your face.

“I know no non-extradition treaties rely on me keeping my job. But it’s real fucking hard to walk away from what I do. You know that.”

“Have you ever even tried?”

“I don’t want to try. And I shouldn’t have to. You’ve never had a problem with what I do before. Why now?”

“Why now?!” He gapes. “Are you tucking kidding me? You almost got killed by your own damn bomb!”

“I had a plan,” you say. “It’s not my fault you ruined it.” You toss your head vaguely in the direction of where Kasie and Luke had been—hopefully where they had been, because now Bucky’s looking that way, his eyes narrowed. If they’re caught—

But you know them. Kasie and Luka are professionals. They’re long gone.

At any rate, Bucky’s expression shifts. He tilts his head just barely to the side, eyes darting between you and the distance, and then finally his face softens. Finally.

“Of course,” he murmurs. He shakes his head and tugs you into his arms. His lips press against your temple, and you sigh, all your annoyance fading away. “I’m sorry. I just—fuck, angel, I’m sorry. I should’ve known better.”

“Yes,” you tell him. You wind your arms around his waist and squeeze tight. A comfortable silence for a few moments, but you can’t help but add, “For the record, I don’t mind being rescued by you. Even if I didn’t need it.”

His chest rumbles as he chuckles, but there’s a hint of melancholy to it. “Just wish I’d gotten to you sooner.” He steps back, looks you over. His lips twitch.

“What?” You look down, raise an eyebrow. “Something funny?”

“No, no,” Bucky says quickly. He gestures to your outfit. “I’m not used to seeing you dressed, uh, like this.”

You look down. Patterned leggings, a cropped blue sweatshirt, scuffed Doc Martens… All of it a little scorched at this point. You bite your tongue. You’re not sure if you look more like a broke college student or a gentrified hipster.

“Well, you’ve seen me in worse,” you tell him, adjusting the sweater so the wide neck bares most of a shoulder.

Bucky winces. “I’m not sure about that.”

“What, you don’t prefer this over that plain dress getup I had?” You wiggle your foot in the air. “Look! Legs!”

“Well,” he says, “at least then I knew exactly what you had on underneath.” He winks, and you can’t help but laugh.

“No hiding any thigh holsters under these leggings, that’s for sure.”

Bucky cups his hand around the back of your neck and draws you in, his smile the last thing you see before your eyes slide shut and his lips meet yours.

It’s heaven to kiss him. Always has been. Rough and needy like the first time, brief and desperate, or even like now, soft and sweet and smiling, his hand warm on your neck as his other catches your fingers and squeezes them tight.

Bucky kisses you like he’s trying to charm away all your worries, and you let him.

A woman clears her throat, and Bucky pulls back, his face all apology as you gape, gaze flitting between Bucky and a thoroughly unamused SHIELD agent.

“Sorry,” he mouths.

One pair of handcuffs, an open van, and an unpleasant shove from the SHIELD agent later, you’re starting to think that maybe you should’ve murdered the Winter Soldier when you had the chance.

—

“You know, Barnes, I wasn’t expecting to have to detain your girlfriend.”

Agent Nunez sits quite primly in her chair, her hands folded on the table over a file and her head tilted as she looks you over. Bucky, the bastard, is leaning against the wall, arms crossed and face black as he glares at his colleague. Nunez taps her file.

“So. One casualty, two cases of second-degree burns, and thousands of dollars in damages. What do you have to say for yourself?”

You set your jaw. “I want my lawyer.”

“That’s not how this works,” Nunez says. “You didn’t get picked up by the police. This is SHIELD.”

Your jaw ticks. Oh, how badly you want to snark back at her—Oh, so SHIELD doesn’t play by the Constitution? I seeee—but you don’t. You can’t. Anything you say will be twisted, dissected, used against you.

They’ve already taken your comm device. Already taken your phone. Already taken your fingerprints, height, weight, eye color… A search more invasive than any leery airport guard’s. The only weapon you’d had after the assassination was the letter opener, and that had been abandoned in the warehouse when Bucky pulled you from the fire. They’d taken the thumb drive shoved in your bra, though. You pray they’ll make good use of it. In the meantime, though?

“I want my lawyer.”

“SHIELD isn’t interested in talking to your lawyer,” Nunez says. “We want to talk to you. And the longer it takes to get our answers, the less patient we’ll be.”

Bucky tips his head back against the wall and closes his eyes. Your eyes flit to him, but looking directly at him hurts. You look away.

“She’s the associate who helped on the Malinda Jackson case,” he says.

“I’m well aware,” Nunez says drily. “Invaluable help, I’m sure.” She eyes you again, her gaze lingering on your scorched sweatshirt, your bared shoulder.

You shift in your seat and tug at your restraints. You’d cover your shoulder, but you can’t move your hands more than a few inches from the table.

“At any rate, that doesn’t explain the bomb,” Nunez continues. “That kind of bomb is exclusive to factions that we do not mix with, Barnes. Just because you got your clearance back doesn’t mean you can drag the whole underworld up with you.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Shit. The whole underworld? The bomb had come from Kasie. Kasie, your friend, your mentor, your crewmate. If it’s traced back to her…

You hadn’t even thought of that. Had Bucky? Is his whole claim that SHIELD didn’t have a problem with your crew a lie? Is all this a ploy to bring them down? Bring you down?

Your eyes slide to the left. Why is he just standing there? Why did he let them take you? Did you never matter to him at all? You can’t look at him, not full-on. None of this makes sense. After everything you’ve shared, after everything you’ve said—not that you’ve said everything, but so many looks and touches and kisses…

Your stomach churns. You can’t look at him.

Instead, you stare at Agent Nunez, at her probing dark eyes and her hands folded over her file and the sharp collar on her SHIELD uniform. She raises her eyebrows at you.

“Nothing?” she asks. She sighs when you keep silent and turns to Bucky. “Barnes?”

You glance at Bucky just in time to see him glancing at you. His lips are pressed so tight together there’s barely a hint of them left.

Bucky squares his shoulders. “Send for Commander Hill.”

—

Agent Nunez uncuffs you from the table and walks you straight into a holding cell. Small, with just a low, stiff cot and a toilet in the corner. Not even a sink. It’s dim, but at least it’s clean. As spotless as the rest of the facility. And there’s an entire door, with a round porthole window. Privacy, at least, in which to rage in.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Nunez says. Only her head is visible behind the mostly closed door. “Commander Hill is on her way.”

The quiet puff of the door closing is as final as any deafening slam.

You collapse onto the cot, cuffed hands dangling between your knees as your shoulders shake. You heave in deep breaths, desperate to keep your tears at bay. None of this is worthy of your tears. You’ve been in scrapes before. You’ve been nearly stabbed by the Winter Soldier, you’ve been nearly exposed by a woman you’d never met…

But your rationalizations rings hollow.

Bucky’s just a man. One man. A superhero, enhanced in myriad ways, but still just a man, in the end. Malinda Jackson is only one woman.

SHIELD?

SHIELD is something else. SHIELD is huge. Bigger than you, bigger than your crew, bigger than nearly the whole world. Certainly big enough to deal with aliens. And you… You’re just one woman too.

You cast your eyes around the room, but it’s impossible to discern where the camera is. Are? They wouldn’t leave you in here unsurveilled. That would just be stupid. And as much as you wish they were a bunch of idiots, you know better.

Well, if they’re smart, they’ll know you’ve been wanting to cry since Bucky looked at you in the alley with regret all over his awful face.

You lie down, bury your head in your arms, and let the tears flow.

—

The door grinds open. You stiffen. You’re still lying down, face concealed. Without a clock or watch or phone, you have no idea how long it’s been. But it can’t have been long. Your cheeks are still damp. Ten, fifteen minutes? Was Commander Hill so close all along?

The door eases shut. You hadn’t even heard anyone come in. Did they just take a look? A quick peek at the Winter Soldier’s girlfriend?

The cot dips by your stomach. A chill settles over you. A heavy hand settles on your hip, nudging you until you turn to look up at—Bucky. His face is paler than usual, his eyes wide as he stares at you. Your heart skips a beat as you blink the last tears from your eyes. He reaches to wipe your cheeks, but you sit up and scoot away before he can touch you any more.

“Why?”

Bucky’s eyes widen. His hands slowly drop into his lap.

You don’t need to say any more. He knows exactly what you’re asking.

“Because I thought this was the best way to keep you from getting actually arrested.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Your face—it was on all sorts of cameras. Not while—” He glances at the door. “Not while you were in the bathroom. But in the warehouse? They know it was you who set that bomb. There’s no escaping that.”

Your heart sinks. That’s true. Kasie and Luka had set things up so your foray into the office wing was undetectable, but the detour into the warehouse…

Damn it, that was Kasie’s call. And now you’re suffering for it.

“That’s the trouble with spur-of-the-moment decisions,” you mutter. “Spur-of-the-moment screws-ups.”

“Hey,” Bucky says, “don’t beat yourself up too much.” He slants a smile your way. “I’ve done worse.”

“Oh?”

“I almost killed Captain America.”

A laugh bubbles in your chest, but it doesn’t quite make it to your lips. “That wasn’t you, Bucky.”

“Oh, I meant last week,” Bucky says. “Definitely almost killed Sam. He deserved it, though.”

“Seriously?”

“Dead serious.” He catches your eye. “And I’m dead serious about why I did this, too. This isn’t about catching you.”

You roll your eyes. “As if you could.”

“Found you on that island, didn’t I?” Bucky’s smirk is all kinds of dangerous, and you look away, biting your tongue, as a flush pricks at your cheeks. “Besides, they knew I had you. If I’d let you go… It would’ve gone worse.”

“Right,” you scoff, but something inside you settles back in place. Maybe Bucky had gotten you caught in SHIELD’s crossfires, but it hadn’t been to hurt you, or to catch you. It’s so he can help you. He’s not out to get you. Even if things are dark right now, even if you’re in the scariest place you’ve ever been, he’s still your Bucky. Still the little shit you lo—adore.

You reach out, handcuffs clinking, to grab his hands and fix your eyes on his.

“I believe you,” you tell him. His face softens, but you squeeze his hands harder, and he stills. “Now fix it.” You pull your hands away and try to cross your arms, but the cuffs won’t let you. You huff and drop them in your lap.

Bucky squeezes your knee. “I sent for Hill,” he says. “We just have to wait. I’m sure she’ll figure something out. She… knows of you.”

Undercurrents hopefully indiscernible to whoever’s listening in, but you hope he means that Hill is well aware of your crew. And, if you’re reading him right, she’s aware too of SHIELD’s hands-off policy towards you.

“Okay.” You nod. “Okay.”

He nods back. An understanding you pray follows through. If it doesn’t…

Bucky scoots closer and angles himself so his back is to the windowed door. “Listen, I need to tell you something.”

You rattle your cuffed hands on your lap. “I can’t exactly go anywhere.”

“It’s important.” His eyes flit between yours, but he doesn’t go on. You roll your eyes.

“What, you love me?” you scoff.

Bucky’s eyes widen. His mouth opens, then closes. “I mean, I—”

“For god’s sake, Bucky, I’m kidding,” you hiss.

Bucky’s face goes blank.

Something tightens in your throat. You sigh. A glance at the door; you shift your legs so no one can see as you slide your hands a little closer to him, palm up, and glance down meaningfully. Bucky’s brows pinch together as you wiggle your fingers. Carefully, surreptitiously, he lets his fingers brush against yours. It takes all your willpower not to grip his hand so tight it hurts, tight enough so you could pull him close, hold him—

But you can’t.

“Now’s not the time,” you say, gentler.

“Isn’t it, though?” Bucky sighs and runs his hand through his hair. There’s a noise outside, one that has you both flinching, staring at the door, holding your breath. Bucky’s hand drops to the knife at his side.

The sound fades. No shadows fall against the window. You’re still alone.

“I do,” Bucky says, still staring at the door.

Your heart leaps in your chest. Words crowd in your throat, too many for you to find a single thing to say.

“I do, angel.” There’s another scuff outside the door—footsteps, you think—and Bucky doesn’t hesitate to grab your hand properly this time. He looks back to you, finally, and every witticism, every word, dies on your tongue.

Every single feeling that’s burning in your chest is mirrored in his eyes. You blink, bite your lip, swallow.

“You love me?” you breathe.

“God yes,” Bucky answers, his voice thick. His metal hand cups your cheek; he presses his forehead to yours. “How could I not?”

“You know I’m a criminal, right?”

The smallest, most beautiful huff of a laugh escapes his lips. Okay, so maybe not every witticism went away. But that’s the you that Bucky loves. You and your mouth.

“Not yet.”

Bucky stands up just as a shadow falls across the window. A key scrapes in the lock. You gaze up at him, your hand cold now that he’s feet away. Funny how easily he does that.

The door swings open, and a tall thin silhouette hovers in the doorway. When your eyes clear from the onslaught of bright hallway light, you at last make out Maria Hill.

“Barnes,” she says, “what the hell am I going to do with you?”

“Dunno,” Bucky says. He tilts his head in your direction. “I’m more interested in talking about what you’re gonna do with her.”

—

The same interrogation room, but this time Nick Fury’s right hand herself sits across from you. Your hands are back chained to the table. Unlike before, with Agent Nunez, Bucky is perched on the edge of table, twisted so he can study Hill’s file.

“So Agent Nunez tells me you were uncooperative,” Hill says to you.

“We were waiting for you,” Bucky says.

Hill rolls her eyes. “You’re not her lawyer, Barnes. Let her speak for herself.”

You open your mouth, close it. Your lawyer request is probably the wrong move right now, but… what on earth would be right? Maria Hill has the power to make you disappear. You stare at her with pinched brows, catching your tongue between your teeth.

“Or not,” Hill says eventually. She sighs. “Fine. I’ll talk it through, and maybe in the meantime you’ll decide to stop clamming up.” She sorts through the file. “I’m assuming you weren’t just there for a tour.”

You don’t signify that with a response.

“So these are the men from the warehouse,” Hill says. She tugs our the third page in her folder—three pictures, with names and one marked deceased.

You don’t react.

“All victims of your bomb. But also all armed, without permits, and records to boot.” Hill studies you with severe concentration, but your expression is bland as can be. “Presumably you wouldn’t have set off that bomb if they had been unarmed,” she continues. “But that’s not the most interesting part.”

Another page drawn out, and your heart stutters. The two men you’d encountered in the office wing, your target and the Rick fellow you’d rendered unconscious.

“Richard Cline here says he was attacked by someone matching your description in John Franklin’s office. And Franklin, according to his autopsy, had just had a heart attack. That can’t possibly be a coincidence.”

The metallic tang of blood fills your mouth. Your eyes widen—you’ve bitten your tongue? You can’t remember the last time you’ve done something so stupid. So telling. It takes all of your willpower not to automatically spit the damn stuff all across the files, all across Maria Hill.

Instead, you swallow it. Swallow your pride. John Franklin’s office had more than a dead man inside it. You lick your teeth, hoping to wipe the blood away.

“Franklin had child porn,” you say. “Lots.”

“Excuse me?” Hill’s eyes widen. She rifles through her files. “I’ve got nothing on—”

“The drive I had,” you interrupt. “Nunez took it. Sent it off to be inspected. Dunno when that was. Hard to tell time around here, what with your blank walls.”

Bucky squeezes your shoulder. Hill’s eyes flit between you and settle on Bucky.

“When did you two meet again?” she asks.

You open your mouth, then close it. A glance at Bucky. He shrugs.

“Before the Malinda Jackson case,” he says curtly. “Why?”

Hill pulls her phone out of her pocket. “Yes, quite…” She scrolls along, but you’ve no idea what she’s looking at. “Right, of course—you’re the reason that he was so distracted when Rex Carston was murdered.”

Your vision swims.

“Damn, Hill.” Bucky’s hand tightens on your shoulder. It’s the only thing keeping you from sliding under the table in shock. “Isn’t there something about leaving stuff at the opera?”

“It’s ‘what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,’ and you were not in Vegas.” Hill shakes her head. “Wow, Barnes. I have to hand it to you. That’s a long time to keep a secret like this.” Hill looks at you with something like—approval? “You’re part of Kasiemobi’s crew.”

A roaring in your ears. You lurch to your feet, the chair beneath you clattering to the floor. Kasie—your crew—

“Calm down,” Hill says. She leans back in her chair and holds up empty hands placatingly. “You’ve got a blanket pass from us. Although… I have to ask how the hell you screwed up so badly today.”

Bucky bends to right your chair. You slide back into it, fingers trembling.

“I—” You swallow. A glance at Bucky, and you find some strength in his eyes. You look back to Maria Hill. Swallow again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Hill nods. “Fair enough. I wouldn’t trust me either. And I imagine SHIELD probably had something to do with your spectacular mess.” She collects her file and tucks it under her arm. “I’m going to confirm that tip about the child porn, and then Bucky can escort you—wherever you need to go. However.” She narrows her eyes at you both. “Open communication about your whereabouts. Try it next time.”

Your mouth drops open, Bucky sputters, and Hill strides out the door, leaving you chained to the table and Bucky with you.

A beat, and then Bucky is laughing, gripping his sides, bent over, positively cackling with amusement. You tug at the handcuffs, but neither they nor the table budges.

“I don’t—” a grunt as you try to tug free— “get—what’s so—funny!”

Bucky gasps, wipes his eye, catches his breath. But he doesn’t answer. Instead, he swoops down and clutches your face in his hands to pepper kisses across your cheeks and mouth until you’re screwing up your nose and squirming away.

“Bucky! Stop!”

He pulls back just enough for you to see the brilliant smile on his face. Despite the anxiety slicing through you, there’s a rush of warmth at that beautiful face.

God never made a man this good.

“Don’t you get it?” he says, his smile brighter than any sun. “You’re okay!”

So much delight is shining out of his eyes that you can’t help the smile spreading on your face. Bucky traces your lips with the rough pad of his thumb.

“You’re okay, angel,” he murmurs.

You rattle your handcuffs and raise your eyebrows. “You might want to rethink that pet name. Most angels don’t get cuffed to interrogation tables.”

“Most angels don’t wear Doc Martens either, yet here we are.”

You scuff your shoes against the floor and duck your chin. “I was starting to like these, actually. I know you don’t like ‘em, but…”

“Actually, this look is starting to grow on me,” Bucky says. He nudges your face back up towards his. “But you know my favorite look is the one you’ll have just as soon as I can whisk you outta here and get you—”

Your heart skips a beat as Bucky breaks off, his lips twitching. He glances meaningfully at the door. His unspoken words hangs in the air, clear as day, clear as the light in his dark blue eyes.

Home, in bed, with me.

You turn your head and kiss his metal palm, then the other.

“I like that look too.”

—

“Somehow, Hill always manages to remind me about paperwork.”

Bucky’s grumping has you giggling as he drags you up a flight of stairs to his hotel room, your Doc Martens thumping louder on their stairs than Bucky’s steel-toed boots, bless. With him, here, so close to being finally and properly alone, the stress from the longest day of your life is starting to unwind.

“She does, doesn’t she?” you tease.

Steps from the stairwell to his door, the slide of a key into the lock, and then you’re inside. Bucky triple locks the door—regular lock, deadbolt, chain lock—with brisk precision, and then you pounce.

You fist your fingers in his hair and tug his face down to yours so you can finally capture his lips. He moans into your mouth, his hands squeezing your waist without a moment’s hesitation. Every single bit of stress melts away under his touch, his lips, the feel of that beautiful body pressed tight against yours. You tug a hand free from Bucky’s hair and start on the buckles of his holsters, of his uniform. They fall easily, as they should. It’s criminal to keep this man covered for a second longer than he needs to be.

Bucky slips his hands up under your cropped sweater and pushes it up your arms, over your head. You toss it aside and fall to your knees to unbuckle the holster on his thigh, your hands dancing dangerously close to the growing bulge in his pants.

“God, fuck me sideways,” he mumbles, his hand on your hair and the other against the door. You raise an eyebrow. His knife falls to the floor.

“If you like,” you say. “I was kinda hoping to fuck you right here, but—”

Bucky tugs you straight back into his arms. He catches you around the waist, settling you at arm’s length, breathing heavily. You reach for him, frowning, but he grabs your hands and holds them tight. His eyes bore into yours as his breathing steadies. The seconds stretch by, long and agonizing when all you want to do is touch him, but he’s just looking, watching, drinking you in.

It’s not enough.

“What’s wrong?” you demand.

“Wrong?” Bucky shakes his head, gives a little huff. “I… Nothing’s wrong. Except I said something, earlier. And you haven’t said it back.”

You blink.

“Oh,” you say. You tug your hands free from his and step closer, close enough so your chest brushes his. You cradle his face in your hands, the scruff on his cheeks a tingle against your palms. Bucky grips your hips, holding you close against him. His eyes burn bright, bright as the sun, bright as the moon, bright as every single star in the universe. They’re all burning in your chest, in your heart.

“I love you, Bucky,” you tell him. You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Only one kiss right now, because when have you ever settled for just three words? “I love you so much I think it should be illegal. I love your face, I love your body, I love your brain, I love your mind, your smile—”

Bucky grins at that. You can’t help but smile back.

“I love your soul,” you tell him.

His grin softens into something like awe, those plush lips of his just barely parted.

You trace the shape of his face, his cheekbones, his jaw, his mouth. Your whole body is full of something so warm, so tender, that you never would have been able to name it before. Before him. “You’re beautiful to me. In every way.”

“I guess it takes an killer to love a killer,” he says, lips twitching.

You shake your head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t?”

“Nah. It just worked out that way. For us.”

“I don’t think someone who isn’t in our line of work would love that part of me quite as much as you do, though,” Bucky says, grinning again. He starts walking backwards, not quite slow enough to keep you from stumbling.

“Well, they wouldn’t know just how brilliant you are,” you deadpan. “I, on the other hand, have an intimate understanding of just how good you are at your job.”

“When I’m not being distracted, you mean,” he teases, and you can’t help but laugh.

Bucky lowers his hands to your thighs and hikes you up, looping your legs around his waist as you wind your arms around his neck.

“Well,” he says, dropping a kiss on the tip of your nose, “now that’s settled, where were we?”

You tilt your head, and then Bucky grinds his hips up, his clothed cock driving straight against your core.

“Fuck!” you gasp, eyes fluttering shut. The warmth in your chest boils over, needy, desperate, sudden, hot.

“There we go,” he murmurs, eyes all but black. He slips his left hand under your sweater and claims your lips.

You let your legs fall to the floor. Bucky’s hand under your ass holds you up as he tastes you, drinking you in as you devour him back.

His metal hand kneads your breast, and you gasp into his eager mouth. Fire sparks along your spine, to your fingers, your toes, to that pulsing bundle of nerves between your legs as he takes you apart with only a single hand on your breast and his lips on yours. You’re a mess before his other hand dips into your leggings, pushing them and your panties down over your hips, baring your hips, your legs… You toe off the Doc Martens, your socks tugging free easily along with them as you work your leggings the rest of the way off until you’re just in a bra before him.

You break away from the kiss, breathing heavily. Bucky’s metal hand is still at your breast, the other is cupping your bare ass—and it feels so delicious to have his hands on you—but there’s something wrong.

“Bucky,” you whisper. “Bucky, why are you wearing so many clothes?”

“Well—” he kisses you again, squeezes your ass— “because the nice thing about your cute little outfit today was how little was actually involved.” His hand slides lower, lifting you onto your tiptoes, teasing—

“Oh!” You clutch desperately at his shoulders, still covered with that stiff uniform. “Fu—Bucky, c’mon,” you whine. You tug at his collar; the scruff on his jaw burns your fingers, but he doesn’t relent. He curls his fingers tighter between your legs until your knees buckle and your whole world is a haze. “Fuck!”

The darkest chuckle as Bucky hefts you up, back against the wall and his leg slotted between yours, his thick pants rough against the soft skin of your thighs and his arm curled around your waist.

“Usually I have to stuff your mouth to get you at a loss for words,” he muses. His metal hand tugs at your bra strap; it snaps back against your skin. The sensation shoots straight between your legs. You suck in a breath and try to focus on Bucky’s gleaming grin, Bucky’s glinting eyes. “I dunno, babe, I’m liking this.”

“Y-you like that I can’t actually get my hands on you?”

“I mean, it’s kinda nice having you like this. All soft and pretty.”

“But with just a few moments of work,” you murmur, hands seeking out his fly, “you could be all soft and pretty too.” Zipper down, you curl your hand between your bodies and grip his hardening cock. His low groan is music to your ears. “Well, hard and pretty.”

You twist your hand, thumb circling his tip, and he hisses.

“You’re fucking nuts if you think doing that is gonna make me want to put in a drop of effort.”

You tsk and grind down on his thigh still propping you up.

“The things I suffer for you,” you tease. You wriggle until Bucky lets you drop to the floor. You sink to your knees and bat your eyelashes at him, sitting demurely on your heels. You trace a finger along the seam of your lips. Bucky reaches for his cock, but you shake your head.

“No no,” you tell him.

He holds up his hands in surrender. “Don’t be a tease, angel.”

“Me?” You suck your finger into your mouth. A lewd pop as you pull it free. “A tease?” You trace your hand down your neck, past your collarbone, straight down to circle a pebbled nipple, straining against the soft cup of your bra. You don’t bother containing your shudder, your whimper. “Such an unfounded allegation.”

Bucky’s growl is, you decide, an altogether fair reaction.

“Why don’t you take that pretty bra off?” he says.

“I suppose I could.” You slide the straps down your shoulders and reach back to unhook it, the motion thrusting your chest forward for Bucky’s eager eyes. One slight shimmy, and you’re fully bare for him, curves and marks and all.

“Fuck, you’re such a fucking sight,” he groans.

“Already? But I haven’t even got your cock in my mouth yet.”

You lean forward, a hand on his thick thigh, but he puts a finger on your forehead before you can tug his cock free.

“Let’s change things up a bit,” he purrs. He tugs you up, gathers you in his arms, and carries you over to the bed. His uniform is rough against your skin, but there’s a thrill in it. Here you are, bare, vulnerable, wide open straight down to your soul, tossed on the bed like a sack of potatoes, and then there’s Bucky.

You’ve never seen him quite so much like the Winter Soldier in the bedroom. All that black material straining over his chest, his tapered waist, his thick arms, the left bared for your enjoyment. He looks so damn powerful as he stands over you. Just the sight of him staring down at you with blackened eyes and that uniform sends a rush of heat to your core.

“Bucky,” you moan.

He grins. “Who’s complaining now?”

“You will be, if I decide I’m bored of not having your hands on me.”

“Aw, angel, don’t be like that.” Bucky crawls across the giant bed, caging you in. You press your thighs together, not quite so lost as to reach for him. Instead, you let your fingers dance along your belly, the light sensation going straight to where you crave him most.

“No need for that,” he murmurs. He settles between your legs, spreads them wantonly wide to make room for his head, his shoulders. “Time to make good use of my mouth.”

Bucky dives right in. He licks a solid stripe up along your cunt, his scruff burning your thighs but you couldn’t care less. Your legs seize up, tightening around his head as your hands fly to your breasts and a gasp tumbles from your lips. When his mouth latches onto your clit, your cry is barely human.

He eats you out with more passion than usual. His tongue draws shapes against your clit, letters and numbers in more language than you know. All the while, his finger drums against your thigh, and only after the fourth repetition do you realize—it’s Morse code.

Because of course it is.

A laugh bubbles out of you.

“I love you, I love you, I love—oh fuck—I love you,” you chant, breath catching as he teases your rim.

“That okay?” he murmurs.

“Oh—fuck me, yes, yes!”

A slow push, and his finger is in your ass. It’s—it’s different, it’s dark and heady and there’s nothing stopping you from bucking your hips into his eager mouth, chasing every ounce of pleasure—of love—that he can give.

And oh, he gives. His tongue on your clit, his finger moving slow and deep, sucking and thrusting and holding you down with his free hand so there’s no escaping the oncoming precipice.

You’re gone far sooner than ever before, cunt spasming against nothing until Bucky eases two fingers in, gentle. He hums, the vibrations prompting a fresh shudder as you collapse against the mattress, every bone in your body somewhere else. You can’t see a damn thing. Only the memory of Bucky, telling you he loves you, and then it all just fades away.

Minutes pass before you come back to yourself. You blink away the stupor. Bucky sits on his haunches, sucking his fingers clean. His eyes are dark and hungry yet so damn soft as he looks down at you spread wide just for him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs. He lays down alongside you side, cups your damp face in his warm hand. “I love you.”

You open your arms to him, and he settles with his ear over your heart and his hand splayed on your belly. You can feel dampness on his beard, and your lips curl into a smile.

“I love you too.” You kiss his forehead and breathe him in. It’s him, all right. It’s him, and he’s home.

How nice to be home. It’s been a long day. An uncomfortable bus ride to the Jelly Belly factory, an assassination, a chase, an explosion. Hours in SHIELD custody, not one but two interrogations, and the first declaration of love you’ve ever received—or given.

Yes, a long day.

Bucky lets you hold him, the silence sweet and comfortable. He’s still in uniform, the straps and buckles rough against your bare skin. You’re too tired to do anything about it. Bucky’s face is tilted up so he can look at you every now and then, but you’re nodding off. The world goes hazy around you. Bucky eases himself out of your arms. You shift, a little whine building in the back of your throat until he shushes you.

“Rest, love,” he whispers. A clink, a thud, some zips, and then he slides in beside you, his body bare and warm and perfect. With a click, the room goes dark.

You tuck your face against his shoulder. “Love you,” you mumble.

Bucky presses a kiss to your hair.

He’s here. You’re together, and you’re home.

[sjbuchananbarnes]

Girls Night

Steve x reader 

W.c: 1640+

“Fuck guys!” Wanda yelled at the top of her lungs as she took another swing at the very expensive bottle of tequila .

“Fuck heartbreaks!” A very drunk redhead creid.

“Fuck penises!” You followed your best friends.

Three of you then turned to Pepper waiting for her to yell something but what could she yell at since she was in a happy marriage with Tony.

“Fuck…” But she couldn’t think of any “...boyfriends..?”

And the three of you cheered at her response followed by the chanting of what she had said. The four of you continued to cheer at what the other had said while singing at the top of your lungs, singing was used very loosely, and dancing around.

“You coulda had a bad bitch non-committal, help you with your career just a little!” The four of danced and sang at the top of your lungs and continued to sing about how men aint shit.  

“What’s going on with the girls?” Sam asked as he entered the training room.

“I think Nat had a bad date so there supporting her.” Tony answered from the boxing ring.

“Isn’t Pepper married?”

“And Wanda with Vision.”

“And Y/n is single.”

“I think they’re all single tonight, by what there saying.” Clint shrugged,”You know those girls will always anything for eachother.”

“But do they have to be so damn loud.” Bucky grumbled “She went out on that date yesterday night.”

“They started with wine last night.” Steve stated which only caused the rest of the team to look at him wired. “You guys didn’t see the wine bottles in the garbage can?” He tried to play it off, he can’t let out his secret.

“Then it went to brunch this morning, some light shopping which combined I think they spent around fifty thousand dollars.” Clint shrugged like it was nothing.

Which caused Bucky and Steve to choke on there on saliva.

“What?” They both yelled at the same time, still not getting use to spending too much money in just one day, considering that fifty hundred dollars back in the ‘40’s it was close to a little over half a  million dollars in today's currency.

“I think you guys forget that Y/n is loaded as well, why do you think she has the best wing.” Tony leaned against one of the ring post.

“But that’s so much money.” Bucky gasped.

“They have expensive taste, especially Y/n, I wouldn’t be surprised if more then half that tab is her’s. The guy that ends up with her is one lucky basterd.” Tony laughed and Steve snorted.

“But why does she live here?” The long hair blue eyed man asked.

“She doesn’t want to live alone, she spent most of her life alone she doesn’t want that anymore.” Clint explained, which to Bucky nodded understanding were you were coming from.

-

“Guys shut up!” You giggled, trying to get them to shut up but you were just as loud at them.

“Ooh Y/n likes Steve!” The now three extremely drunk friends shrieked, teasing you.

“What no I don’t!” Your voice got extremely higher than what you anticipated.  

“You like the stars spangled man, the man with the plan.” Pepper got up on the bed and did a hero pose, with her fist on her hips and her chest puffed out.

“So what you like Tony!” You yelled not realizing what you were saying.

“Ooh Pepper like Tony!” Now the three of you teased her.

“What no I don’t.” The strawberry blonde giggled,playing with her hair.“Wait, I Am married to him.” She threw her head back crackling like it was the funniest thing she ever heard.

“I want to be married.” Your eyes filled with tears.

“You will marry Y/n, marry Captain america.” Wanda giggled at her funny ‘joke’.

“It’s okay Y/n.” Nat pulled you in between her legs and into her arms. “We will all find happiness one day.” She kissed you cheek.  

“I love you Nat!” You cried harder as you threw your hands over her shoulders pulling her in. “And that guy is so stupid for not wanting a badass like you.”

“I love you too.” She cried into your shoulder.

“And I love you Pepper.” Wanda weeped as she brought brought her into her arms.

“I love you too Wanda.” Pepper sobbed into her shoulder.

And what seemed like a hour the four of you were done crying and now fast asleep on your humongous bed in which the four of you fit easily.

“I dont think I’m ever going to drink again.” Pepper said from the bathroom as she finish washing her teeth after throwing up.

“Pepper shut up.” Nat groaned as she shoved her head deeper into the pillow.

“Pepper move!” Wanda shoved her out of the way and soon her head was in the toilet.

Nat sighed knowing that she wasn't going to be able to sleep once more. “Where the hell is my bra?” She scratched her head.

“When did you take of your bra?” You questioned her after stepping out of the shower with a towel wrapped around your body, chuckling at Wanda as she laid on the bathroom floor.

“I don’t know.” She dragged herself out of the bed and into your shower.

“I’m going to go shower, I’ll see you guys down in twenty.” Pepper yelled as shut the door behind her.

After Wanda and Nat showered and borrowed some of your clothe which was just pair of legging and some band t’s, after Nat still hadn’t found her bra she just decided to borrow a sports bra instead ,and you guys were good to go for breakfast, at one in the afternoon. Were the boys waited for your arrival.

“Afternoon ladies.” Steve eyed the four of you as you walked into the kitchen, his eyes stayed on you the longest.

“Hi Stevie.” Without thinking you made your way into his arms and kissed his lips. “I missed you last night.” You leaned into his chest.

“Uh guys?” Tony’s voice broke you out of trace,causing your body to stiffen not even realizing Steve body was stiff not saying anything.

“Oh no.” You whispered and stepped away from Steve.

“Oh yes!” Wanda yelled.

“What the hell is this?” Sam yelled in excitement.

“What the hell are you!” Steve yelled back, causing Tony to wheeze and press his face into Peppers back, who was sitting on his lap.

“What?” Sam questioned.

“I don’t know.” Steve mumbled and played with his hands.

“Since when was this a thing?” Nat smiled at the two of you.

“Like three months.” You mumbled as you itched closer to him, god you felt like you were a pair of teenagers begin caught by your parents.

“Why didn’t you guys tell us?” Wanda whined, as she fixed her self a plate of pancakes eggs and some greasy bacon and a big cup of coffee from that amazing machine that you bought for the team. “God I love these chefs.” She digged into her plate.

“ We just thought it would be to soon, and we thought it would be best in case we broke up. We didn’t want to make it awkward.” You sighed. “Wait why aren’t you shocked Bucky?”  

 “Steve told me.” He shrugged like it was nothing.

“You told him, we had a agreement!” You gasped and hit Steve on the shoulder, which only caused you gasp in pain and you quickly grabbed your hand and held it tight to your chest .

Steve let out a laugh and explained “He caught me doing a walk of shame, doll.” he brought you back into his chest.

“Steve Rogers, doing the walk of shame who would of thought.” Tony joked, and got up to fix his very hungover wife a plate.

“Oh trust me I have no shame.” He pulled you into a deep kiss.

“See Y/n I guess you will marry the star spangled man after all.” Nat smirked from behind her coffee cup.

“Nat, we just started to date.” You shoved your head into his chest, but Steve already knew he was going to marry you the day he saw first saw you.  

-

“Sam, I swear I’m going to rip you a new if don’t start to punch like you mean it!” You yelled at the your tall broad friend,your back was facing Steve who was leaning against the door, smirking as you talked to one of best friends.

“I don’t think your going to be able to handle, all of this.” He motioned down to his body.

You threw your head back in glee. “Oh Sammy, stop your going to make me cry.” You clapped your hands together.

He took this as his advantage and charged your way but you were quicker than him , ducking his right and left  punch, jumping and swing yourself onto his shoulder straddling him with your thighs, his hand reached to grab a hold of your shirt to flip you over but with a swift move you swung yourself along with him onto the floor, landing on your feet with one foot on his chest.

“If I didn’t like you so much you’d be dead,Sammy.” You offered him a hand to help him on his feet and turned around to realize you had company, your face lit up with joy to see who it was. “Mr.Rogers, pleasure to finally meet you.” You made your way to him and extended your hand.

“Pleasures all mine, and please call me Steve.” He took a hold of your hand not letting go. “Pleasures all mine.” Steve mumbled.

“So ‘am going to kick your ass,like I did your friend.” You nodded over to Sam.

“I’d like to see you try.” He smirked “I’ll buy you dinner if you can actually beat me.” Steve still had a smirk on his face.

“You got a deal Cap.”