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beckzorz · 6 years ago

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Out of Nowhere (10/21)

Summary: An offhand comment at work draws Jesse Kaplan into the orbit of Bucky Barnes. Bucky’s excited at the prospect of normalcy, but there’s nothing normal about falling in love with the Winter Soldier. Words: 3886 A/N: The song for this chapter is “You Better Go Now” by Billie Holiday from Billie Holiday’s Greatest Hits.

PART 10: “YOU BETTER GO NOW”

Bucky was gone.

Jesse stood awkwardly in the narrow entrance of his apartment, her backpack hanging from her elbow and her blue dress uncomfortably damp. She took a deep breath and turned to take stock of her surroundings. The place was less starkly furnished than she’d expected—a large charcoal drawing of the Brooklyn Bridge hung on the wall right beside her, and when she edged into the common space, she could see a large print of a painting of fruit over the couch. The couch itself was low and all straight lines, the kind of thing someone who hated comfort would buy. There weren’t even any throw rugs to counteract the hard wooden floors.

Any view was blocked by insulated curtains. Jesse had been too distracted to know exactly where he’d taken her, and she’d kept her eyes mostly shut against the rain. She knew she was still in Brooklyn, but the exact neighborhood evaded her. Cobble Hill, Brooklyn Heights? Somewhere fancier than her block in Flatbush, that was for sure. This place had actual air conditioning.

She dropped her bag against the couch and turned in place until she spotted two closed doors by the kitchenette. Nothing indicated which was the bathroom door, so she guessed. The first door she opened was a bedroom—Jesse quickly closed it, cheeks warm, before she got more than a vague sense of bed and dressers.

The bathroom itself was all white, even the hand towels. The mat by the tub was the only carpeting in the entire apartment. Jesse took a deep breath, then looked at herself in the mirror. All things considered, she didn’t look so bad. There was no bruise, just a square bandage taped over the edge of her eyebrow to hide the stitches. Her face was pale, but a few pinches returned the color to her cheeks. Her hair looked the worst. After the horror show back at her apartment plus the hospital and that helmet, her braid was more out than in. She rebraided her hair, trying to tuck away all the stray wisps around her temples. She mostly succeeded. Her dress had a bloodstain on the shoulder under her cut, but she couldn’t do anything about that.

Jesse wandered back to the living room and perched on the couch, which was more comfortable than it looked. She twisted her fingers together. After a minute, she toed off her shoes and scooted back onto the couch, feet tucked under her.

Where had Bucky gone? He’d given no explanation, just left without so much as a goodbye. Jesse had no way to contact him, let alone anyone else. Would she make it to work tomorrow? Would she be able to call in? After everything else, was she going to lose her job, too?

Jesse winced. With everything going on, was her job really the most important thing? She hadn’t even processed the worst of what had happened. Everything had happened too fast, too quickly…

Well, now was the perfect time to get parsing. Bucky was gone, she wasn’t tired, and she could freak out in peace. Jesse pulled a notebook and pen from her backpack and started writing.

Mike’s company Blond doctor & Mike—Stark event Company name??? Mike—how did he know he’d see me? If he knew, WHY WAS HE SCARED? Song, trigger words Shocks/electricity Needles

Jesse bit her lip. The words… what words had the doctor used?

“I am a doctor,” she tried. The words were strange in her mouth; there were too many of them. “I’m a doctor.”

That sounded better. Not better, exactly. Jesse felt a sudden chill. But it felt right, and the rest of it followed from there.

“I’m a doctor. You need to listen to me. [Command, not question.]”

Jesse stared at what she’d written. Was there anything else worth mentioning? What else could she remember?

She screwed up her face, thinking hard. The early days were easier to remember, the first most of all. She remembered the blond doctor first coming in, and the horrible machine she had used. But that was later. The doctor had been unpleasantly surprised to see Jesse…

A list! She’d mentioned a list.

List, what list?

The doctor had asked who’d put Jesse on the list. That meant—

“Oh no,” Jesse murmured.

That meant there was a list of people, a list of people who were going through what Jesse had suffered. And maybe more, maybe new people! If the list was being added to, who was to say they weren’t taking some other civilian right now?

Jesse began to shiver; the air conditioning was a relief no longer. With the one painting behind her and all the windows shut, Bucky’s place was in some ways as stark as the blank metal room she’d been kept. Too cold to be really comfortable, and so bare that there wasn’t even a clock on a wall.

Was she even safe here? Bucky must have thought so, but he didn’t even know anything about the people who’d abducted her. She knew next to nothing, and he’d had no chance to even pick her brain. The elaborate escape from the hospital seemed stupid now, stupid and such an obvious ploy that she couldn’t sincerely believe that the others hadn’t seen right through it. What stopped them from following Bucky though Brooklyn? What was stopping them from just barging in and recapturing her? Or killing her outright?

Why had Bucky even gone to the trouble of including yet another person? He could have left her there, but he didn’t. He could have taken her to the police, but he didn’t. He’d brought her here.

Jesse didn’t know what to think. She hugged her knees to her chest, her notebook abandoned on the otherwise bare coffee table. A white throw pillow blended into the couch; she tugged it over and gingerly put her head down.

She had to trust Bucky. She had no choice. He’d left her here, alone and unarmed, and now all she could do was wait and think in discomfort. The bandage on her face was beginning to itch, but it was too soon to take it off. The AC was cool for her damp summery outfit, but she wasn’t going into the bedroom. She rubbed her arms until they were pink and raw and a little warmer.

All she could do was wait.

—

Jesse woke up from fitful napping two hours later. Bucky hadn’t come back yet. She’d tried sleeping, but she’d woken up gasping every time she heard a stray noise. But nothing out of the ordinary ever happened, so she was left about as tired as before and even more skittish. The stimulant hadn’t cleared out; she was hyper aware of every possible threat. At one point, she’d written a very flat narrative of her experience—the break-in, Mike’s warning, the abduction, the torture—and then lay back down, shivering.

He couldn’t be gone for much longer. He hadn’t even told her she could help herself to food, or a towel. How could he abandon her for so long? What was he doing?

Her stomach began to grumble. Jesse gave up on the couch and wandered into the kitchenette. A few jars were pushed against the back wall by the stove, but upon inspection they were just coffee and sugar. She tried the fridge, but she didn’t even know where to get a glass for milk. Somehow the fridge was less dangerous than the cabinets. As far as she knew, people didn’t store weapons in the fridge. But cabinets…

She wouldn’t put it past him. They were easy access for something small. But she had no interest in seeing a handgun up close.

As she debated whether or not to start looking, the front door began to rattle.

Jesse froze.

Barely breathing, she slowly put down her notebook. She stood and hurried into the kitchen, which was out of sight from the front door. Her heart beat low and quick; her hands shook as she turned in place in the kitchen, looking for something, anything, to protect herself with. Where did he keep his kitchen knives? Jesse yanked open the drawer closest to the sink. Regular silverware on the left and—ha! She pulled out a butcher’s knife, pushed the drawer shut, and held the knife at her hip.

For the first time in her life, she wished she knew how to use a gun.

The lock on the door clicked open. Jesse’s heart pounded. She tightened her grip on the hilt of the knife and held her breath as the door opened and closed. Whoever had come in, they were quiet. Bucky was quiet, but so were other people of his profession. What if it was someone on the other end of the alignment spectrum?

Jesse backed away from the kitchenette entryway slowly. She prayed they didn’t have a gun, because now she was just boxing herself in.

“Hello?”

Jesse almost dropped the knife at the familiar voice, but she managed to shove it onto the counter. “Bucky,” she said, voice hoarse. She cleared her throat and tried to relax. “I’m in the kitchen.”

Bucky stepped into view and paused at the sight of her huddled at the far wall. His gaze jumped from her to the knife on the counter, and he winced.

“You okay?”

She snorted. His bashful expression gave her the oomph she needed to emerge from her corner. “I’m alive,” she said. “By some miracle.”

Bucky pressed his lips together and grabbed a glass from one of the cabinets. Jesse watched him as he filled it with cold water from the fridge dispenser.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“Yes. Very.” Jesse pressed a hand against her stomach. Her dress was still a little damp; less so on the side she hadn’t laid on.

“Shit. I’m sorry.” He pulled a loaf of bread from the freezer, then paused. “What do you eat?”

“Right now? Pretty much anything that’s not pork or seafood.”

“Right.” Bucky slapped together a turkey sandwich and slid the plate in Jesse’s direction. She picked it up in both hands and bit into it with a satisfied hum.

“Thank you,” she said, one hand over her mouth. “It’s delicious.”

“It’s just turkey,” he said. “It’s not—”

“It’s delicious,” Jesse insisted. She took another bite, and another. The sandwich was entirely gone in another six bites. Jesse took a few deep breaths and rubbed her neck. “Dang. I was starving.” She glanced around, but the clock on the oven wasn’t set. “What time is it?”

“Just past midnight.” Bucky shifted his weight awkwardly, then spun on his heel and went to sit on the couch. Jesse followed him out of the kitchen hesitantly. His head was bowed forward, with his hands buried in his hair.

Jesse winced. She went and sat cross-legged a few feet away from him. She reached out to pat his shoulder, but she let her hand fall before it reached him. She had no idea how to comfort him.

After a minute, Bucky let out a shuddering breath and sat up. “Sorry,” he said again.

“I know some shit’s gone down,” Jesse began, “but I don’t think any of this is your fault, either.”

A little smile flickered on Bucky’s face, and he glanced at her. His eyes were wide, shinier than usual. “I should have noticed,” he said. “I should have noticed right away. You weren’t…” He shook his head, sharply. “Of all people, I should have noticed,” he repeated.

Jesse bit her lip. What could she say to that?

“It’s not your fault,” she tried again.

“Sure.” Bucky sighed and shook his head. He leaned back against the couch and propped his legs up on the coffee table with a sigh. “I was looking forward to something normal. For a change.”

Jesse snorted, though her eyes stung. “God, that would have been nice.” She didn’t bother apologizing; she knew what he’d say. It’s not on you, it’s not your fault. Apparently they were both terrible at ceding blame.

She sat cross-legged on Bucky’s couch, shoulders hunched and eyes downcast. Normal. That would have been nice. Right now, nothing was normal. She didn’t have her phone, she had no idea what the deal was with work, and her apartment was trashed. What would Fran think? He’d no doubt heard about what had happened from the police, but what was it like for him, to walk in there and see his space violated like that? Would Adrian think she had died, or just that Jesse suddenly hated her? Jesse rubbed her arms and winced. She took deliberate slow breaths; now wasn’t the time to cry. Now was the time to think.

“I made some notes,” Jesse said.

“What?” Bucky swiveled his head to peer down at her. “What do you mean, notes?”

She grabbed the notebook from the coffee table and offered it to him. “Notes about… what I could remember.”

His lips parted as he looked at her more closely than he had since before the fight at her apartment. “You don’t take a break, do you?”

“I do,” Jesse said defensively. “I did! But this is important. This might help. I—well, it might help.”

Bucky finally took the notebook. Jesse glanced down at her notes, suddenly worried. There really wasn’t much there, was there? She’d left out so much… If Bucky had spent the last three hours doing any sleuthing, he probably knew far more than the bits she’d bothered writing down. If.

But she had no idea what he’d been doing. Maybe he had no interest in solving this at all. Maybe he’d just gone and gotten something to eat, or gone to a bar, or gone to the gym.

Jesse pressed her hands together between her legs and tried not to consider the possibility that Bucky had left to get away from her. At the very least, he was reading her notes.

“The Stark benefit?” Bucky asked. “What does that have to do with anything? And Mike—that tall dancer? He’s involved in all this?” He twisted his mouth.

“Mike and one of the doctors who… worked on me were at the Stark benefit.” Jesse shifted uncomfortably, then forged on. “If we could find out who they say they are, we—someone might be able to find them. I never knew where I was, but they must be attached to some company. Mike said his company was getting a nod, so—”

“Right.” Bucky pulled out his phone and typed out a quick text, then tapped another item on Jesse’s list. Shocks/electricity. “They had an electroshock weapon at the apartment. Was there something else?”

Jesse hesitated, ashamed. The details. She’d hoped not to have to be there when Bucky—or Natasha, or whoever—read her little narrative. But if Bucky wanted to know…

“Next page,” she croaked. She cleared her throat and tried again. “The next page. I wrote what happened. Or at least—what I could remember.”

Bucky looked at her again. His tight, focused frown faded. One of his hands twitched in her direction. “You didn’t need to, Jesse,” he said at last.

“It might help.” Jesse balled her fists on her knees and stared at the veins on the back of her hands, the insides of her wrists. “Of course I needed to.”

“Help who?” he pressed.

“I’m not the only one,” she said. She swallowed, licked her dry lips. “There are others. Are, were, will be. I don’t know. But someone put me on a list, and if there’s a list—”

“I get it.” Bucky sucked in a breath between his teeth. “Yeah. I get it.”

Of all people, he probably did get it. That’s what made it all so much worse. How would reading her tragic tale make him feel? Certainly not any better. She wanted nothing to do with it. She’d written it out, true, but the thought of having to look at it again made her gut churn. And answer questions—

When Bucky turned the page of the notebook and she caught a glimpse of her handwriting looping in full sentences, Jesse’s breath caught. She surged to her feet. “Excuse me,” she blurted, then rushed into the bathroom and slammed the door.

She gripped the sink and gasped for air; tears stung her eyes and her heartbeat echoed in her ears. The faucet sparkled from the bright lights overhead. She stared at her distorted reflection in the silver arch as she heaved breaths. With her face stretched out of shape, she could barely make out her eyes or her mouth. She didn’t dare look in the actual mirror. The whole world was shuddering; how could she be anything but a mess? Why would she want to see that?

A rap at the door made her jump.

“Jesse, are you okay?” Bucky asked.

Jesse clapped a hand to her mouth; her throat burned with contained sobs. She swallowed them back, eyes still stinging.

“I’m fine,” she answered, her voice more hoarse than she’d hoped for. She coughed and turned on the faucet. “Just got something caught in my throat.”

“Jess…”

Jesse paused, her hand cupped under the running water. She hadn’t been called Jess since she was a child. The shortening of her name had always felt like a dismissal, but Bucky just sounded worried.

She sipped out of her palm. The cold water was soothing down her throat, and she could answer more clearly.

“Don’t worry about it, Bucky. I’ll be out soon.” She pressed her wet hand against her hot face, eyes closed to avoid her reflection.

Bucky said nothing more; Jesse assumed he’d gone back to the couch. Hopefully he’d read her story and finish before she did. She took another sip of water and sat on the edge of the toilet.

Somewhere in the midst of all this trauma, she’d started calling Bucky Barnes by name. She couldn’t remember the first time she’d done so, but now his name slipped as easily off her tongue as her vague assurances. Maybe she was getting inured to him. She mouthed his name, the b on her lips and the k at her throat. She was getting used to it. Used to him, even.

How long had it been since they’d danced?

Jesse squeezed her eyes shut. Not now. This wasn’t the time for self-pity. She needed to steel herself against whatever was coming. She set her jaw, took slow deep breaths, and rubbed cold water on her pink-rimmed eyes.

By the time she left the bathroom, she felt prepared. Whatever questions Bucky had, she could take them. Pressing for details? Pitying looks? No problem.

Yet he did neither. He just glanced back at her from the couch and said, “What are you thinking?”

“About what?”

He studied her and seemed to change his mind. “Next steps. I got the name of the company from Pepper. They’re called Current Relief Incorporated.” He winced. “They do electrotherapy.”

“Wha—seriously? Current Relief?” Jesse shook her head, aghast, and leaned against the wall. “Why are evil people so obsessed with puns?”

Bucky snorted. “Never figured that one out myself. But I got that guy’s information. And the woman.”

Jesse’s heart beat fast as Bucky put a big black laptop on the back of the couch facing her. There were two headshots side by side, with name, address, email, and phone number below each. On the right was Mike; on the left was the blond doctor. Jesse gripped the edge of the couch to keep her hands from shaking when she leaned forward to read about the woman who’d tortured her. Her name was Medea Faulk, she lived in Manhattan, and her email was a company one in the same format as Mike’s. Jesse looked away, back to Mike’s photo. He wasn’t smiling.

“He warned me,” Jesse said. She jabbed a finger towards Mike’s headshot. “He knew I’d see him sooner than I thought.”

Bucky frowned. “You mean you knew something was going to happen?”

“No, no. It was all very roundabout. I didn’t get it until I saw him there. He was just walking by. He looked…” Jesse thought back. “He looked terrified.”

Bucky scoffed, but Jesse ignored it. Mike had been scared. Why was he scared? Why had he warned her?

“I want to talk to Mike,” she said.

“What?! No way,” Bucky snapped. “You’re supposed to be in the hospital right now. He’s involved in whatever bullshit they’re doing. You are not going to talk to him.”

Jesse narrowed her eyes.

We’ll see.

—

“Hello, Mike.”

Mike froze on the last step out of his apartment building. Very slowly, he turned towards her.

Jesse took a loud gurgling sip of the end of her iced mocha and lowered the plastic cup to her side. She looked nothing like herself. Her hair was bundled away into one of Bucky’s brimmed caps, and his jacket hung off her. She’d had to roll up the cuffs to free her hands. The sunglasses were big on her small face, too. Hell, she’d even put on some black lipstick. The strange outfit made her feel like a different person, one who could plausibly intimidate a six-foot-five man who’d been involved in her kidnap and torture. The fact that the jacket had a lingering scent of its owner probably helped.

“Shit,” Mike gasped. His face was so pale Jesse was almost afraid he’d pass out.

She glanced across the street to where Bucky’s motorcycle idled. Bucky, also in a large hat and sunglasses, was leaning against it, ostensibly on his phone, but Jesse knew his eyes were glued to her and Mike. She also knew he had a gun in his pocket.

Mike hurried over to where Jesse leaned against a telephone pole and grabbed her arm; she tensed. “What are you doing here?” he hissed.

“What do you think?” Jesse tried not to let her terror leak out in her voice. She lifted her chin to an improbable angle. Did she look stupid or confident? She couldn’t tell. “Tell me what the hell you people did to me.”

Mike stared down at her. His brown eyes were wide, his lips white. He moved them in silent shock.

“Tell me,” Jesse insisted. She put her free hand on his arm and dug her nails into his skin. “You’ve lost the right to remain silent.”

“How did you find me?” he asked.

“Please,” Jesse scoffed. “You think you’re any better protected than I was?”

Mike deflated. He uncurled his hand from her arm and glanced around. His gaze lingered on the motorcycle across the street. Did he know who was there, watching?

“Come with me and I’ll talk,” he said.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m not telling you anything here. We’re going inside.” Mike hooked his arm around her shoulders and steered her up the steps back into his building.

Jesse glanced back. Bucky was standing up straight, his mouth in a thin line and a hand in his pocket. She forced a smile.

It’ll be okay, Bucky. I promise.

The door to the street closed behind her; short of busting it open, Bucky was stuck outside, waiting. Mike directed her through another door, even further away from her one tether to safety.

It’ll be okay.

I hope.

A/N: Okay sorry I have to throw in some more notes XD

The first time Jesse says Bucky's name aloud is right after she wakes up in the previous chapter, when she's finally free from control.

I am very pleased with the company name pun. I love puns. Puns are good and they get a BAD RAP

The trope of an idea being vehemently shut down and then the story/show/movie cuts straight to that happening is one of my favorite things and I am very glad I could include it here XD

The charcoal drawing of the Brooklyn Bridge in Bucky’s apartment is a Steve Rogers original :3

Hopefully this chapter starts to answer some of your burning questions! Let me know what you think! xoxo

#bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes/ofc #bucky x ofc #mcu fic #becca writes #the not for profit fic

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the-amazing-spider-bi · 6 years ago

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Title: a real hero (and a real human being) Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Young Avengers (comics) Pairing: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Teddy Altman/Billy Kaplan, eventual Kate Bishop/America Chavez Word Count: 18k Work Summary:

“That’s a nice offer,” Kate says, “but I already have my own dysfunctional family, thank you very much. I don’t need assassins, Disney Princesses and the World’s Most Awkward Divorced Dads for that.”

In which the Young Avengers come to the MCU, the Avengers adopt a bunch of delinquents with varying levels of success, Natasha is smarter than everyone else, Peter gets more friends, Billy is a gay mess, MJ is a gay mess, Steve is a gay-

Oh, and Kate is the better Hawkeye, but that’s nothing new.

Chapter summary: In which some things come together, and others fall apart.

When Sam finds him, he’s sitting on his bed, crouched over his notebook, pointedly ignoring his entrance.

“Hey, Captain,” Natasha says, softly. Of course, Sam would bring Natasha. “Talk to us.”

Steve doesn’t want to be rude to anyone, least of all Sam and Nat, but he also really doesn’t want to do things like confronting his feelings right now. He doesn’t even want to feel his feelings, if he’s perfectly honest, but apparently he can’t have that, so he’ll settle for moping around in his quarters. (Can you believe Tony kept them perfectly intact yet clean, didn’t even touch them? He hasn’t been around in years. Even when he was with the Avengers, he barely ever slept in this room.

It’s just so empty. The big, king sized bed with the blue and red sheets that Tony bought as a joke but Steve secretly liked, the scenery framed behind it - something he must have drawn when he was, what, seventeen, for his very first gig at the comic book store, of a man soaring through the skies of the old New York, the one from the thirties, all red cape and small compared to the skyscrapers. He doesn’t even know how Tony found that, only that it was probably ridiculously expensive. It made him feel warm and homesick at the same time when he first saw it. And today as he sees it again - he’s at home here, now.)

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Steve settles for, and he scribbles a bit too hard on his drawing, pen ripping through the paper.

“Come on, Steve,” Natasha says, then tries a different approach. “You know what Sam has to say about expressing your feelings.”

He does indeed - he has been on the receiving end of the “you should talk about your feelings, Steve. Bottling it all up and hoping it never comes out is unhealthy, Steve. I don’t care if it got you through World War Two, Steve,” speech more times than he could count.

But it’s not entirely his fault. He wasn’t born in an era where you could just, walk up to someone and talk about your trauma. Damn, for his mother, seeing a therapist was only done if you were sent to the asylum. So could you really blame him?

(“ Yes, we can ,” Sam insisted. “Now don’t be a jerk and show Wanda a good example, alright?”)

Natasha is still hovering by the door - when it’s not to manipulate someone, she always has a hard time expressing her affection. Sam, on the other hand, is already sitting by Steve’s side, clasping his shoulder - not too much, just a light touch, that anchors Steve’s to the moment, lowers the numbness that usually follows him around.

“I said hello to Tony, and he had a panic attack. I think I’m allowed a bit of, uh, time alone. To process ,” Steve tries, parroting something he heard Sam say once.

“Don’t be a smartass,” Sam answers, but he’s smiling a little. Then, he looks pointedly over his shoulder, drawn to the drawing. It’s a cold, frozen landscape, almost peaceful in the white flurry and the quiet if it weren’t for the grey shape of a bunker hidden in the snow. “How’s that processing working for you?”

He doesn’t know how he guesses what this is - but Sam is his best friend, in a way that Bucky just isn’t, because Bucky is something else entirely to Steve (his family, his blood); he’s also a damn good counselor, with that, so Steve shouldn’t be surprised.

“I just… I know we didn’t leave things as well as we could have,” understatement of the century, “and I know we never had time to fix it last year during the whole…”

“Intergalactic space battle to save our friends who turned into sand?” Natasha guesses.

He chuckles. “Yeah, that. I knew it was bad, and I didn’t expect him to have moved on, but I thought…”

He falls silent for a moment, so Sam says it for him. “That since you forgave him for everything that happened back then, whatever it was, you could work it out?”

“Something like that.”

Natasha sighs with him then slides closer. Slowly, as if she was trying not to frighten him, or herself, she puts her head on his shoulder. She’s fresh out of the shower, still somewhat wet, and her hair is all wet and artificial fruitiness. She didn’t put any makeup on, so she looks as tired as she probably feels; her purple hoodie (Clint’s, no doubt) smells like laundry day, feels soft and worn against his arm. In the past few years, it got so easy to be around Natasha and Sam, even when everyone else feels too much, that it’s sort of like breathing.

“You are going to work it out, you know,” she says finally. “You’re both terrible at processing , and way too good at denial, but you’re also stubborn, and you care about each other. It wouldn’t hurt so bad if you didn’t.”

He nods and focuses harder on his drawing and not looking up at them, because this is making him feel , and this is not what he was trained for. They stay like this for a while, in comforting silence, before Natasha moves again.

“Do you want me to go get James? He’s probably still in the jet.”

“Yes, please.”

She nods and almost walks out of the room before he says, “Wait, Nat?”

She turns around. “Yes?”

“Thanks.”

Natasha Romanoff has many smiles - the sultry one she puts on for her dumbest targets (in the sexy or the murder meaning of the word alike, sometimes both), the reassuring one she struggles to keep on when she’s trying to look at least sixty percent less intimidating and a hundred percent less deadly than she is, the soft, half smile she gets when she doesn’t realize she’s doing it. This is one of the last kind. “You’re welcome, Cap.”

Read more on ao3!

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picturesmadewords-blog · 6 years ago

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We can fly - a Teddy & Billy ficlet

Hello, fellow Young Avengers fans! This is my very first non-reblog post on my all-new tumblr that I decided to create for my writings - if and when I get to write more, that is. The thing is, I used to write a lot until a few years ago. I was very active in my country’s Harry Potter fandom and wrote tons of Remus x Sirius stories. But, as I got older, I abandoned writing more and more… until this summer, when I couldn’t take it anymore: I had too many scenes and characters in my mind to let them sleep there forever, so I decided to start writing again. We’ll see how this goes.

I wanted to try something with my absolute favorite Marvel characters, Teddy Altman and Billy Kaplan. Being a gay man who was a teenager when these two first came bursting into comics, I owe a lot to them. And I have tons of little scenes and snippets with them floating around in my head, so here we are. My first post is a ficlet set during the events of Young Avengers v1, specifically right after Teddy’s mom’s death. On the day of her funeral, to be more precise. I’m sure this has been done before, but I really wanted to give shape to my version of it. It’s not much, but there’s a lot of heart in it and all the fluff I need to survive the horrible world we’re currently living in.

As I said, this is my first real piece of writing in years, so any kind of comment is welcome. I just want to see if I still have something worthy to say with my writing. It’s also my first piece of writing about Marvel characters AND my first piece of fiction in English. English is not my first language, so ANY kind of comment about style/form/possible grammar mistakes is highly appreciated.

Now, onto the fic!

Title: We can fly

Fandom: Young Avengers (Marvel comics)

Characters: Billy Kaplan, Teddy Altman, Jeff Kaplan, Rebecca Kaplan, Eli Bradley

Rating: G

POV: Billy (first section), Teddy (second and third sections)

“Call me, man. Whenever you want. Don’t ride this out alone. Neither of you should.”

Billy nodded. He stared deeply into Eli’s eyes and saw something unexpected there. He hadn’t seen Eli cry at the funeral, he didn’t think so. But the boy’s eyes were now shiny. If he hadn’t cried, he looked like he was about to. That wasn’t something Billy was used to. That look of defeat in his teammate’s eyes. In his friend’s eyes. Those eyes said so much more than “I’m sad because my friend’s mom died.” Those eyes seemed to say that now it was real. Not that Billy thought Eli hadn’t taken it seriously from the first moment Nate appeared in his life, but what they had gone through, the terrible, scary things they had gone through, weren't enough to prepare them for this. Losing someone, actually losing someone. Billy saw Eli's love for his grandparents in those eyes. He had seen the fear of losing his own parents in his own eyes that morning, when he had briefly looked at himself in the bathroom mirror.

And then, something else wholly unexpected. Eli hugged him. He pulled him close and hugged him and hugged him. When he let go, Billy had no idea how to react. He smiled faintly. The kind of gratitude he was feeling for Eli couldn’t be expressed in words.

They were on the doorsteps of his house. The sky was grey and there was a chill in the air. “Like in the movies,” Billy thought. “There’s always bad weather at funerals.”

Eli looked at Kate, who was waiting for him outside. He gave one last friendly smile and left. Kate waved at Billy and, once they were out of sight, the boy closed the door.

He turned to the living room. He was facing the back of the sofa, which was placed right in the middle of the room. The sight of the messy blonde hair visible just above the back cushions made his heart jump a little. “Man up, Kaplan. Man up,” he kept thinking. He closed his eyes, took a heavy breath and walked towards the sofa.

“Hey.” Billy tried to put on his best comforting smile. Teddy was sort of slouching on the sofa, his head low, his hands dangling between his legs, his black tie loosened. The plate Billy had prepared for him still lay untouched on the coffee table – a sandwich, some chips, a small portion of some sort of casserole one of his aunts must’ve brought. Glancing at it, Billy suddenly recoiled at the smell of food lingering in the house, as if he had only noticed it now that everyone had gone.

He sat on the sofa next to Teddy. The boy looked like he was somewhere else, somewhere far away, where hopefully he was still a happy teenager with a beautiful boyfriend and a loving mother, and not an alien prince with a dead parent who had lied to him his whole life.

Billy leaned on his shoulder. He enclosed Teddy’s huge frame with one arm, or tried to. And then the most exquisite, the most heartwarming thing happened. Billy had feared anger, tears, coldness, all things that would have been natural and that he would have faced with strength and perseverance for his boyfriend’s sake. He had not expected Teddy to melt into his embrace, his lovely face burrowed into Billy’s neck, his arms tight around Billy’s waist.

Teddy was big, much bigger than Billy’s slender figure, and yet he looked so small and fragile in Billy’s arms. All the boy could do was to rest his head on Teddy’s shoulders, feeling Teddy’s breath close to his chest, so warm, so soft through his white shirt.

They stayed like that for several minutes, in complete silence. There were no tears, no words of comfort, just two boys tangled together, Teddy safely hidden in Billy’s arms, Billy slowly stroking Teddy’s back.

A sound coming from the kitchen. And, a few seconds later, Jeff and Rebecca Kaplan standing in the doorway, both looking tired and much older than Billy ever remembered. Billy didn’t even try to let go of Teddy, he had no intention of letting go, parents or no parents. If anything, he held Teddy even closer, a sudden, overpowering sense of protectiveness washing over him. He’s mine and he needs me and I will hold him for the rest of my life if that’s what he needs.

“Billy, son, we’re going to your aunt’s to bring the hellions home,” Jeff said with a sweet smile. “But before we go, your mother and I need to speak to you boys.”

At that, Teddy jerked up. He didn’t let go of Billy’s waist, though, as he looked at Billy’s parents. “Mr. Kaplan, Mrs. Kaplan… I am so grateful, I will leave as soon as…”

“Hush, dear,” Rebecca said warmly, as she approached the sofa. Her hand reached Teddy’s forehead and she half-stroked, half-brushed his hair. Teddy smiled as Billy felt a sudden surge of love for his mom.

“That’s what we wanted to talk about,” Jeff said, stepping forward himself. His wife put a loving hand on his chest, and he put an arm around her shoulders. Billy smiled at the gesture.

“Billy told us that you have no living relatives,” Rebecca said tentatively, careful not to hurt the boy any further. “Now, mind you, we don’t want to force anything onto you, but…” she paused and sighed. Billy felt his heart skip several beats. He also felt Teddy slightly trembe in his arms. “We don’t, and as soon as you’re eighteen,” the woman continued “you will be able to choose what is best for yourself. But right now, if you want, Jeff and I were thinking that it would be our pleasure to have you with us.”

Billy was beaming. Teddy looked at the couple with wide, shimmering eyes. “We’re sure that there will be some legal stuff to take care of, which we will do once we’re all a little rested,” Jeff said, sitting next to his son. “For now, though, consider yourself our guest. Tomorrow we’ll fix the guest bedroom for you, and Billy here will help you make it your own with a few Pokémon posters or whatever you kids like nowadays. I really hope you will come to consider this your home, in time.”

Billy couldn’t keep it all in any longer. He let go of Teddy, turned to his father and hugged him, whispering “Thank you,” in his ear. Teddy sat motionless, incredulous.

“As for tonight,” Rebecca started, with a voice that exuded both motherly affection and practicality “we thought you could… sleep in Billy’s room.”

Teddy’s eyes widened even more. Billy, having let go of his father, jumped up to embrace his mother. Rebecca put a hand forward, making her son wait for his thankful hug. “This is a one-time thing, young men. Don’t make a habit of it. It’s only because the guest bedroom needs airing and,” she sighed. “And I guess we could all use a little affection and caring tonight.” She let Billy briefly hug her, then tightened her wool cardigan, as if a sudden shiver had passed over her.

“Your mother can’t wait to get the boys back from your aunt. Imagine being that desperate for affection,” Jeff said, getting up from the sofa and walking towards the front door to get his car keys.

Billy chuckled. So did Teddy, through teary eyes. He had met Billy’s bothers and both he and Billy knew that wanting those pests back was the act of a woman desperate to bring life back to what was, at that moment, a very grim house. They both couldn’t wait.

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Hours later, as if in a dream where you wander from place to place without any rational reason, Teddy found himself sitting on his boyfriend’s bed. A stylized cartoonish Captain America was staring at him from the heavy bed cover. He looked up, admiring Billy’s model replicas of all the major spaceships from Star Wars, hanging from the ceiling, while a glance at Billy’s desk revealed several action figures and statues of Thor and the Scarlet Witch, all of different sizes and some of them sporting costumes that Teddy recognized from an era of the Avengers that went back to before either he or Billy were even born. Taped to the wall behind the desk, he saw some pencil drawings, mostly of Billy’s winged headgear.

Teddy never thought he would ever find someone who was as big a nerd as he was. Billy couldn’t quite name every single Doctor Who companion from the 1950s onward, not yet, so he felt his nerd crown was safe for now. But still, Billy was a threat.

A wonderful, wonderful threat. He started fantasizing about spending entire afternoons playing computer games and swapping comics with Billy in the comforting space of the room he was now in. Watching their favorite shows together, while holding hands or spooning on that bed, which was thankfully big enough for the both of them. Stealing kisses when they were alone, stealing more than kisses whenever possible. And maybe, one day, building a life of their own, together.

His mind was full of all those incredible thoughts. He forced himself to focus on them. He willed them into his mind, fearing that he would soon wander back into the darkness. He knew that there would come a time when he needed to go back there. To mourn, to cope. But not tonight.

Tonight, he felt like he was given a second chance at life. And he wanted to take it and make it his own.

“I don’t think my PJs will fit you.” Billy’s voice, coming from the walk-in closet, startled him out of his haze. “But maybe this old jersey… it will be a snug fit.”

Billy came into the room holding a faded football jersey and a pair of shorts. “Not that I will complain.”

“I could make myself a little smaller,” Teddy said, taking the clothes from Billy’s hands.

“Oh, right. Please don’t. I really don’t mind the bulging muscles.”

Teddy laughed. He knew what Billy was doing. He was playing right along his little fantasy of “this is just a sleepover with your boyfriend, it’s not like your mom is dead and not even your real mom.” He loved him even more for that.

Teddy took off what remained of his funeral suit. He had tossed the jacket over the desk chair as soon as he had entered Billy’s room, and the tie was dangling from his neck, completely loose. Billy had turned around to get the spare pillow from the closet and, when he turned back, he found Teddy wearing only the Bionic Woman boxers he had bought for him on eBay.

“Oh come on now,” Billy half-whined, admiring his boyfriend’s sculpted chest and incredible legs. Not to mention Lindsay Wagner’s cotton face hugging Teddy in all the right places. God, that was wrong. What was he thinking when he bought those boxers. “Put that shirt on before I decide to completely destroy my mother’s trust in the both of us.”

Teddy smiled, putting on the shorts first, then the jersey. It was a snug fit and he had to shrink just a little to even put his muscular arms through the sleeves, but not so much as to avoid the tight effect that Billy had hoped for. He loved teasing Billy like that.

Billy was flushed. He swallowed and playfully threw the pillow (now fitted with a fresh Lion King pillowcase) at Teddy, who caught it and held it close to his chest.

“Oh, can you feel the love tonight, baby,” Teddy commented in the most suave voice he was capable of.

“You are such a dork.” Billy went back to the closet, while Teddy jumped on the bed, resting his messy golden hair on his new pillow.

“You know,” Billy’s voice came from the closet “if you feel up to it, if you’re not too tired or anything, the brats have this junior league soccer game tomorrow, I don’t think mom had time to pull them out of it. It will most likely be a total bore, but it might do you good to get out and OH MY GOD NO.”

Teddy jumped up, scared half to death. Billy’s screaming had felt like a well-placed punch in his guts. His mind immediately went to the worst possible scenarios, which flashed in his mind one after the other in a matter of milliseconds. Something had fallen on Billy’s head and he was injured. He had slipped and fallen and had really hurt himself. The Skrulls were back for him. Kang the freaking Conqueror was hiding in Billy’s walk-in closet.

“Billy! B, what’s wrong?” he yelled, worried. The Kaplans still hadn’t come back from Billy’s aunt, what could he do now? The thought that both he and his boyfriend were superheroes never even crossed his mind. That night, he felt like a kid who was in desperate need for somebody to look out for him.

“Nothing, nothing.”

Billy’s apparently calm voice made Teddy calm, too. Still confused, but calm.

“It’s nothing but oh my God this can’t be happening.”

“B?”

“Okay, so, apparently,” Billy’s voice, still coming from the closet, had assumed that tone that Teddy had come to recognize as bitchy Billy. “Apparently…” Billy continued “I only have three pairs of PJs. And the one I wanted to wear tonight, the one I wanted you to see me in, a nice, simple, elegant light grey thing that my grandmother gave me for Hanukkah, well, it’s in the wash. Which leaves me with two unspeakable options.”

Teddy half-smiled, still puzzled. “Okay?”

“Yeah, not okay. Not really. But here goes nothing.” Billy came out of the closet and Teddy had to blink a few times to fully understand what he was seeing.

Billy, all messy dark curls and hot red cheeks, was wearing a pair of light blue PJs. The shirt was a little too tight and the pants, which, Teddy assumed, were supposed to come to his ankles, were a couple of inches short of reaching them. And the pattern. Oh, the pattern.

It was small cartoon cowboys.

And cowboy hats and little white clouds and bright green cacti. Teddy was suddenly reminded of Andy’s room in Toy Story, before the arrival of Buzz Lightyear.

“Oh my God,” Teddy cried, grinning like a maniac. “That is the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.” He jumped from the bed, covering his smiling mouth with a hand. “You are the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.”

Billy blushed furiously. “The thing is, I haven’t really grown that much since I was twelve so I still have these old things lying around and…”

Teddy shut him up with a kiss. He cupped Billy’s face and kissed him and kissed him, Billy standing on his toes, his thin arms embracing Teddy’s waist.

“I love you and I have to take a picture,” Teddy said, coming up for air.

Billy’s eyes became two enormous saucers. “You… wouldn’t dare…” he said slowly, stepping back from his boyfriend.

“Please please please I have to immortalize the unthinkable cuteness right before my eyes,” pleaded Teddy, already grabbing his phone.

“No way! No way!” Billy laughed.

“I promise I won’t show it to anyone! It’ll be just for me!” Teddy wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “Would you really deny me this, tonight of all nights?” He looked at Billy with his best beaten puppy stare.

“Oh, that’s low,” Billy sighed. He opened his arms, defeated, and gave Teddy the sweetest of smiles as Teddy took as many pictures as possible. Yes, he was going to keep them for himself. Well, maybe one could find its way to Kate and Cassie. Maybe.

Of course Teddy knew that Billy could’ve just worn a T-shirt or something. He didn’t know if the adorable pajamas were chosen intentionally or not. But he did know that his boyfriend was the most incredible boy to ever walk (or, occasionally, fly) the earth and he had, once again, made him smile on one of the worst days of his life. He knew, right then and there, that anyone who could make him laugh on a day like that was someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

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“Tired?” Billy asked, when the excitement over the PJs was over. They were lying on Billy’s bed, side by side. Teddy was staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. Billy was staring at Teddy.

“Exhausted,” Teddy replied. He turned his head towards Billy, a faint smile on his lips. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being here. For being you,” Teddy whispered. He had tried to avoid it, but he felt the darkness getting closer and closer. He reached a hand and stroked Billy’s cheek.

Billy closed his eyes, enjoying his boyfriend’s loving touch. He leaned closer to Teddy and rested his head on Teddy’s chest, listening to his heart, getting drunk on his scent. “Is this okay?” he asked.

Teddy snorted. “Are you kidding? This is perfection.”

Silence fell over them. The room was mostly dark, only an old Mickey Mouse lamp illuminating the desk with all its action figures. Teddy closed his eyes and listened to the soft hum of Billy’s breathing.

“B?” he asked, with a wavering voice. “Am I going to be alright?”

Billy frowned, but didn’t look up. “Give yourself some time, babe.”

“But I mean…” Teddy continued, slightly hesitant. “When we get older. If… when we get to be adults together. My life’s so fucked-up. How can I… what kind of… man could I be? What kind of… father could I be…”

Billy’s head jerked up at those words. “You’re going to the most amazing dad. You are selfless and caring and goofy and you can shape-shift into all sorts of funny animals! Are you kidding, our kids will love you.” Billy paused, realizing what he had just said. “Yes, I did say our kids because I’m not going anywhere, T. Oh, and I want a small army of brats and I hope each and every one of them is as impossible as my brothers so we don’t get lazy in our old age.”

“Oh, God,” Teddy chuckled. After a silent pause, he added “I hope you are right. I just want to be free from this… this fear of failing and… and falling into dark thoughts. Dark places.” He wiped a tear that had made its way across his cheek.

Billy had rested his head on Teddy’s chest again. “Don’t be afraid of falling, T. It’s natural. It’s human. Neither of us might exactly be human human, but you get my point. Don’t be afraid. Because, if you fall, I will pick you up. Always. I will always be there to pick you up and lift you up, just as I’m sure you will be there for me.” Billy felt Teddy’s arms tighten around his shoulders, and he burrowed his face into Teddy’s chest. “We can both fly, if we can’t lift each other up, who can?”

Teddy smiled.

There was a long pause, which Teddy interrupted just to whisper “Goodnight, my sweet cowboy.”

“Goodnight,” Billy replied, grinning. He paused for a couple of seconds, then added “Hey, can I sleep like this?” holding Teddy even tighter for emphasis.

“You have to sleep like that,” Teddy replied, then placed a delicate kiss on Billy’s curly head.

Silence fell into the room once again. Both boys were half-asleep, when Teddy spoke up again. “Hey, what was on the other pair of PJs that was so terrible you went with cartoon cowboys?”

Billy snorted and hid his face in Teddy’s chest even further.

“Smurfs.”

Teddy grinned.

He definitely had something to look forward to.

#young avengers #billy kaplan #teddy altman #wiccan #hulkling #fanfic

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