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jamielea81 · 5 years

Text

Conversations

Chapter 4

Description: You accompany your friends on a day trip to Animal Kingdom Theme Park where you meet Scott Evans by chance. This one afternoon leads to a year long friendship with both Chris and Scott over text messages and phone calls.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Cursing, drinking, and drunk texting.

A/N: Italics are internal thoughts.

Chapter 3

“Where do you want to eat?” Brooks asked once the two of you reached a strip of fast food and casual eateries.

Both of you left the office in search of a late lunch. In actuality, Brooks surprised you in the parking lot when you pulled in. You had just eaten breakfast two hours prior, but hey, if he was paying, you were going.

“Champs is always good,” you said.

Brooks hummed in reply, but kept walking past the entrance, leaving you standing there puzzled.

“Okaaaaay,” you said as you jogged to catch up. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Okay. Sure. We’ll go with that,” you replied.

When you passed the fifth restaurant, you quickly walked ahead, grabbing the door for Panera Bread and holding it open for him. “In! Now!”

He chucked, shook his head, and walked in, you following behind.

With a large, apple and chicken salad in front of you, as well as large hunk of bread, you decided to let the two of you eat in peace before the interrogation began.

“Do you really need three packets of butter for that piece of bread?” he questioned.

You pointed the plastic butter knife at him. “It’s rude to talk with your mouth full. And yes, this is a lot of bread, so it deserves a proportionate amount of butter. Bread and butter give me life. Don’t hate,” you replied, tearing a chunk off.

He closed his mouth, chewing a large bite of his sandwich but giving you a large closed lipped smile.

After your stomach was overstuffed by the bread you insisted on eating, you took a large sip of water, eyeing Brooks who now had his phone in hand.

“You and Jana are too much alike. Always so serious on your damn phones,” you said. Pushing your cup away because you were just too full for even water.

“One to talk. I hear you are mighty chatty with those…Evans guys,” he whispers at the end causing you to roll your eyes.

“They’re both friends,” you reply, shrugging your shoulders.

“Not with Chris from what I hear,” he said, the smugness thick.

You bite out a laugh. “From what you hear. You mean Jana? That’s your big scoop? You’re such a punk.”

“I’m just sayin’ that it all sounds flirty to me.”

“Remind me to not tell Jana anything anymore,” you said.

He gives you a half smile, but says nothing else.

“It’s not like that. He’s Brish Mevins.” Brooks chuckles at the fake name you gave Chris. “Have you seen the girls he’s dated?”

Brooks shakes his head no, but picks up his phone and starts typing away. You put your hand over it, forcing it down.

“Neither have I, and I want to keep it that way. But I’m sure they’re gorgeous and probably all actresses. Besides, sometimes people just flirt. I do it too. It’s fun,” you replied.

“Think what you will, but be open to it,” Brooks says, taking his finger and tapping your nose.

“Dorks. That’s the only types of people I know.” Brooks scrunches up his face and gives you a smile. “Any way. Tell me what’s up and don’t say it’s nothing.”

He lets out a long breath but sits up straighter, his face instantly changing to one that’s excited. “I got a job offer,” he exclaims.

“A different one at the paper?” you asked.

He shakes his head no. “It’s with an online news organization. It’s still a sales position, but it’s better pay and I can work from anywhere.”

“Don’t leave me there by myself,” you pout. “You can’t buy me lunch if you’re at home.” Bottom lip sticking out.

“You’re hardly there by yourself. How often have I come to your desk and your busy chatting with the women around you?” he asked.

While you are extremely happy for your friend, damn, are you going to miss seeing him every day.

“Not the same.” You take a big breath in. “But I want the best for you. So, if you’re happy, I’ll be happy. The Cole family is certainly moving up. You with this new job and Jana making partner.”

Brooks throws a hand up. “Don’t jinx it. Nothing’s been announced yet.”

You copy his stance, adding your second hand in. “Fine. Fine. But it’s going to happen.”

It’s media day at Walt Disney’s Hollywood Studios. The second attraction, Rise of the Resistance in Galaxy’s Edge is opening and you are quite excited. You hadn’t always loved the Star Wars franchise, not getting into the movies until your early twenties thanks to an old boyfriend who was pretty obsessed. This ride is supposed to be a huge deal and with very little revealed to the public thus far, you’re stoked.

There’s a big presentation by CEO Robert Iger with some surprise guests. Storm Troopers are roaming the currently empty stage while various members of the media prepare to go live once the presentation starts. A borrowed camera with a zoom lens from the paper rests in your hand. You also have your digital voice recorder ready to go. It would be easier to film the event and take stills from the video, but with a good number of YouTubers making up the event, you can always catch what you missed later that night.

Robert Iger walks on the stage while small pyrotechnics fire off from the back. Cheers all around. The buzz in the air is catchy and you find yourself fangirling more than anything. The special guests end up being Daisy Ridley and John Boyega as both actors play a part in the ride.

You’re given a return time to ride the attraction that day. Seeing that you have about an hour until your time slot, you peruse the shops selling various themed wares. Even the bottles of Coke products are themed to match the land. You purchase an orbed shape bottle of Sprite and snap a selfie sending it off to Scott.

Scott: Sprite? You’re in Star Wars land and you get soda. Where’s the blue milk?

You laugh at his reply.

Y/N: Star Wars land? It’s called Galaxy’s Edge Grumpy.

Y/N: Have you tried the blue milk? I’ll stick with the pop thank you very much.

Scott: Pop?! What the fuck is pop?

Scott: How long have you lived in Florida. The word you’re looking for is soda.

Y/N: Whatever 🙄

You snuck a selfie with a Storm Trooper and sent it to Chris. A few minutes later he was calling you.

“Hey babe,” you answered.

Yeah, your friendship had taken on another nickname. He called you sweetheart and you called him babe. The first time you said it to him you cringed. Like full body folded in half while you waited for a reaction. You didn’t mean to say it, but Chris took to calling you almost daily. He had a long break in his schedule and you had become part of his day. One day the word just slipped out. It felt natural. When he went on as if nothing happened, you relaxed. The nickname slipped out more and more as if that were his name.

“You’re killing me sweetheart! Are you there for the paper?” he asked.

“Yeah. Story will post tomorrow if you want to read it. I’m about to go on Rise of the Resistance in a few minutes.”

“Of course, I want to read it. Send me the link tomorrow. Gah! I’m jealous,” he whined.

You let out a giggle. “Get your butt to Orlando then. If you can’t swing the cost of a hotel, you can stay with me,” you replied.

“Uh-huh, okay, Sassy. I’ll let you know. Go enjoy your day smartass,” he said.

“You wouldn’t put up with me if you didn’t like it,” you teased.

“Need to stop talking to Scott. Apparently, he’s a bad influence on you,” Chris said.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. But I’m going to head over to the line. I’ll call you later babe,” you said.

“Sounds good sweetheart. Bye,” Chris said ending the call.

Rise of the Resistance was not only visually stunning, but action packed. There were so many details that no doubt you could ride ten additional times and still not catch them all. The Sentinel was lucky to have a Disney enthusiast such as yourself on staff. Whenever there was a Disney Parks story needed, they knew yours would trump the competition. While you knew you were good at your job, you were also your worst critic and struggled to really put yourself out there. This is why you mainly worked on assignment with only writing a story of your choosing from time to time.

On your way out of the park, you purchased a Mickey Premium Ice Cream Bar. You took a bite out of one of the ears and snapped a selfie. The picture was quickly sent to Chris since he asked you to mail one to him a month again.

Y/N: I was going to mail this but he just looked so damn tempting.

Chris: I may not talk to you for a while. I think you understand why.

Y/N: I refuse to believe that. I’ll call you later.

Chris: We’ll see

What a baby.

It was Christmas Eve and you were freezing cold in your mom’s house. The heat was on, but she liked to keep the thermostat set to sixty eight to keep the gas bill low. Living in Florida for fifteen years had thinned your blood. The one positive about being back in Minnesota in the winter besides seeing your family, were the cute winter clothes you could wear again. Despite the warmer temperatures all year round in Central Florida, clothing stores still sold tall boots and thick sweaters.

Dressed in a large cream cowl neck sweater, dark blue jeans, and fuzzy red and white stripped socks, you were still freezing. You pulled the green throw blanket up to your neck, wishing someone would hold your mug of hot cocoa spiked with Baileys up to your lips so you wouldn’t have to remove your hands from under your blanket.

“When did you turn into such a baby?” Heath, your younger brother asked.

Like a true baby, you stuck your tongue out at him. He smirked but shook his head at you before sitting down next to you on the couch. Your mom and her sisters are in the kitchen, fussing with dinner, but mostly drinking wine. The “kids” who are all in their late twenties and thirties include your cousins Jenny, Rebecca, Tony, and Nick and his wife Avery, as well as yourself and Heath.

You brother reaches forward and grabs your mug off the coffee table, taking a sip before passing it to you.

“This is weak,” he said.

“Not all of us need a splash of cocoa in our Baileys,” you replied.

“When’s the last time we all got drunk together?” Jenny asked.

“Not since Nick’s wedding and that was like ten years ago,” Rebecca replies.

“Count us out, we got the kids watching TV in basement and need to get home tonight,” Avery said.

Nick frowns causing you to chuckle.

“I’m game, but I don’t want to get Baileys drunk. What else do we have?” you asked.

Heath got up and walked into the kitchen, politely smiling at your mother before opening a cabinet. It was taking some effort as he was trying to reach the back of the cupboard. A few seconds later he walked back into the living room with his hands behind his back. Like a magician unveiling his trick, he pulls the bottle from behind his back.

The group of you oohs at the green bottle of Jägermeister.

“We’re going to be so sick,” Rebecca said.

“On Christmas,” you add. “Why does mom have a bottle of Jägermeister?

Fuck. Mom is going to be so mad at us.

“It’s mine from like five years ago. I left it here and forgot all about it,” Heath chuckles.

“Do we have shot glasses?” Jenny asked.

“Doubt it,” Heath said.

“But we do have Dixie cups in the bathroom.” Tony said, getting up from his seat and moving into the bathroom.

Heath grabbed his phone and hit play on his nineties music playlist. It may be Christmas Eve, but this was really a get together with your family since you mainly only came home once a year. Even then, not everyone was able to get together every year.

With your first shot in hand, you snap a selfie. Best to do it now before I start to get sloppy.

Downing the shot with your brother and cousins, you grab your phone to fire off a text, attaching the picture to send Chris and then to Scott.

Y/N: Cheers to a Merry Christmas

Scott’s the first to reply as you finish your second shot.

Scott: Someone’s getting holly and jolly

You giggled at that causing your family to all send you a questioning look.

“These shots are already going straight to my head,” you said quickly.

“Drinking game!” Heath shouts. “Since we know the Christmas Story is on TV, anytime someone says Ralphie, we drink.”

“We are so getting wasted tonight,” Tony said.

“Mom,” you called out. She walked from the kitchen into the living room where you all were. “I think everyone but Nick and Avery are staying over.”

“You kids,” she sighs as she shakes her head walking away.

Your phone buzzed in your hand. Chris had responded to your text.

Chris: God you’re adorable.

Butterflies swarmed in your stomach with heat instantly rising to your cheeks. You hoped the alcohol you consumed was a good enough cover for the redness you were no doubt showing.

Your phone started to buzz in your hand repeatedly. You were so lost in your thoughts, you almost missed the call entirely.

“Hello?” you answered.

“Merry Christmas sweetheart.” Chris said. His voice was a little rough, making you shiver.

“Hi Ba-Chris,” you said, almost slipping out the nickname in front of your family. Getting up quickly, you moved to your old bedroom for privacy.

“How’s your Christmas so far?” he asked.

“Really good. It’s like the first Christmas in maybe five years where all my cousins on my mom’s side could come,” you said. “We’re having a really good time.”

He chuckled. “I can see that. How many paper cups of alcohol have you had?”

“Only two. Probably a lot more to come,” you replied. “Besides, it’s warming me up. It’s like I get amnesia about the weather.”

“I bet. Too much sunshine. It’s cold here too,” Chris said.

“Are you and Scott in Boston?” you asked.

“Yep, for like the last week. Probably be here another couple of weeks. You should come to Boston,”

What?

You cleared your throat. “Like now?” you asked.

Chris chuckled again. Damn, if that laugh didn’t get you every time.

“Like in general.” He pauses for a moment. “You should come out sometime. Scott’s here a lot. I’m here a lot. It would be fun. Give ya the whole New England experience,” he said.

“You know, it’s cold in Massachusetts,” you chuckled out.

“It’s a good thing you look so cute in sweaters,” he said, seriousness in his voice.

Okay fine. I like Chris. I like him, like him. Fuck.

You’re rendered speechless. Yes, he’s flirty every once in a while, via text message, but hearing it over the phone is something else. It’s almost not fair that he can say those things but be a thousand miles away most days.

“Hello? Did I lose you sweetheart?” Chris asked.

“Sor…sorry. Yeah, I’ll think about it,” you stammered.

“Come in the fall. It’s beautiful in the fall and not too cold for you.”

“Okay. Yeah. We’ll work it out,” you replied.

“I’m holding you to it.” Chris said.

“Y/N? Where’d you go?” Rebecca called from the other room.

“Hey, Chris. I’m being summoned in the next room. M’sure I’m a few drinks behind by now,” you replied.

“Okay, sweetheart. Go have fun with your family,” he said.

“You too, babe. Merry Christmas,”

“Merry Christmas,” he replied.

You were indeed late to the party as everyone was plenty tipsy by the time you walked back into the living room. Tony handing you a full paper cup before you could even sit down.

An hour later you had given up on drinking. You were at the point where you were just tipsy enough with zero percent chance of getting sick and that was plenty. You had a feeling your mom would be waking everyone up bright and early tomorrow.

You picked up your phone and sent Chris a text. Because having your phone while drunk was a great idea.

Y/N: We all want something beautiful

Man, I wish I was beautiful

The two of you had a habit of sending song lyrics back and forth to each other. Since the nineties station was still playing on Heath’s phone, Mr. Jones seemed appropriate. And maybe the booze made you brave since the words had hidden meaning to your crush on Chris.

Chris: A little Counting Crows on Christmas?

Y/N: Why not? Sometimes Christmas makes you nostalgic for the 90s.

“One more shot. Come on. Just one more. You’re never home to get drunk with me anymore.” Heath sniggered.

“You are a bad influence on me,” you teased, poking him in his chest. “Fine. One more and that’s it.”

One more turned into three more and you were suddenly sloppy drunk. You said goodnight to everyone, after throwing them extra blankets and pillows you scrounged up from your bedroom.

Alone in your room, you couldn’t get your mind off of Chris. After calling you cute and inviting you to Boston, not to mention the flirty texts, it was all too much.

Y/N: I think yur so cutte

Y/N: so nice n sweet

Y/N: just derseve everything you evr want

Y/N: wish yo not so far away

Predictive text doesn’t catch everything apparently, but you’re pretty sure he would get what you were saying. Before you could type another devotion to Chris, your phone rang, causing you to drop it on your head.

“Motherfucker!” you exclaimed, rubbing your aching head.

The phone continued to ring regardless of your pain.

“Hello?” you groaned.

“So, I’m going to take a shot in the dark here and say that you are trying to text my brother.” Scott said.

“Scott! Hi! I miss you!”

He chuckled. “Yeah, Yeah. Miss you too Sassy. Sounds like someone’s a little drunk.”

You giggled. “You’re a little drunk!”

“Oh my god. I should be recording this call.” He murmured.

You laughed because that’s what you did when you drank. You weren’t sure why you were laughing, but Scott always put you in a good mood.

“Anyway. I’m going to call you tomorrow because you probably won’t remember this. I need you to put your phone away and go to sleep. Those text messages you thought you were sending to Chris, you actually sent to me,” he said.

You frowned, sticking out your bottom lip. “Can you show Chris? He needs to know,” you whined.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow sweetie. Now get some rest. Goodnight,” Scott said.

“Night Scott.”

The next morning you groaned to the sounds of your mother banging pots and pans. You were pretty sure she was doing it on purpose. With every bang, it felt like your head was going to crack open. Taking a pillow from under your head, you put it over your face and prayed that you could fall back to sleep. But then you remembered something about telling Chris he was cute.

Oh no! He’s going to think I’m some sad, desperate girl.

You grabbed your phone, praying Chris didn’t reply. Maybe he’d ignore it and save you the embarrassment. But then you remembered Scott calling you.

“Thank god for Scott,” you mumbled.

Typing out a quick reply to Scott since he would now be considered your saving grace.

Y/N: Thank you for saving me from myself.

Scott: No problem Sassy. How are you feeling?

Y/N: Like death. Not drinking again, probably for years.

Scott: So dramatic.

Y/N: Merry Christmas Grumpy.

Scott: Merry Christmas Sassy.

You plugged your nearly dead phone in to charge and regrettably got out of bed since your mom continued to make way too much noise at nine in the morning. You took a shower, hoping it would make you feel more alive. Sadly, it did not.

After eating breakfast which consisted of pancakes since your mom took a little mercy on you, you crawled back into bed. Christmas dinner was being served at five, so you grabbed your phone to set an alarm for an or two, because you knew you would over sleep. As soon as you picked it up, you saw you had a text from Chris.

Chris: Merry Christmas sweetheart.

Chris Evans was going to be the death of you.

Chapter 5

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bbhyuckie · 6 years

Text

Crossed Wires - 2

Find Chapter 1 here, and read on AO3 here.

Genre: Slowburn office romance.

Words: 4.2k

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, all drinking is legal and responsible.

Things between you and Doyoung stayed respectfully distant for the weeks to follow. The company was in a notably dry period, meaning not a lot of contracts to draft and not a lot of logistics to run. However, for every drought, there was always a flood.

SM signed a contract in early November with a secondary entertainment company to merge under SM’s label. Mergers normally wouldn’t be an issue, but certain subsidiaries were demanding stock rights or downright subsidiary liquidation. While this may not seem like a problem for marketing and advertising, you suddenly had an entirely new demographic to appeal to and draw research from-- and those researching rights cost a lot of money.

Needless to say, you and Doyoung found yourself on the phone with each other increasingly frequently. It was the same as it always was; facts were discussed, documents were sent around, and that was the end of it. Phone calls were brief and brain numbing. All you could afford to think about was work.

Despite the sudden drain on your life force, Doyoung and yourself continued to send notes to each other. The majority of the time, it was in regard to whatever paperwork was in the file, but bits and pieces of personality began to bleed through on both ends. One particular note apologised for the documents being late, Doyoung had been late to work because his cat knocked his phone off his bed stand and unplugged the charger. Dead phone equaled no alarm which equated to late Doyoung. Similarly, you often apologized for mug shaped halfrings of coffee ending up on important papers, but that it really couldn’t be helped if he wanted you awake and functioning.

You were working on an email to an outside marketing affiliate when your office phone began to ring. You glanced from the brightness of your computer screen to the receiver. Getting calls to your office phone wasn’t unheard of, but it was pretty strange to see a call coming out of your office from the logistics extension.

Your body moved before your brain as your hand reached out and pulled the phone off the hook.

“Hello?” you noted belatedly that you didn’t answer with a your typical line of your name and department.

“Y/N?” It was Doyoung on the other end, but somehow you already knew that before you heard his voice.

“Hey,” you patted around your desk for a pen and a notebook, “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing, just--” Doyoung cut himself off short, and if you had known him better, you would have heard the hesitance in his voice, “I guess it’s nothing.”

A wave of worry washed over you and it felt oddly misplaced towards Doyoung.

“Well, you called for a reason,” your tone was easy and lighthearted, “I don’t bite. What’s going on?”

On the other end, Doyoung puffed out a breath of air, “Sorry, it’s just… I didn’t write anything on the files I sent down this morning. And I didn’t want you to think that I didn’t want to do that anymore, ‘cause I noticed your returning file didn’t have a note either.”

“Oh,” was all you managed. Truth be told, you hadn’t even noticed.

It was quiet a beat before Doyoung cleared his throat, “I’m recognizing now that I could’ve just sent another note.”

You laughed at that, genuinely laughed, and it felt like a breath of fresh air. You ran a hand over your face and pressed the built up tension over your brow.

“Yeah, you-- you could have,” you said, reigning your giggles back under control, “But you know, we can talk on the phone, too.”

“Right, ah--,” Doyoung said, and you imagined he must be running his hand up the back of his neck, a nervous tick all of the boys in your department carried when they were flustered, “I suppose we can.”

You propped your chin on your hand, “You know, I used to talk on the phone all the time with the guy I worked with before you.”

“Really?,” Doyoung sounded genuinely surprised, “Who did you work with?”

“Yuta. I can’t believe you haven’t heard him babble on to Jaehyun. I couldn’t get through a call without him spoiling an entire season of some anime for me.”

Doyoung pushed out a breath through his nose, and this time you were sure you could identify it as a laugh. “I guess I should have expected that,” he said, and his voice was significantly less tight.

There was another stretch of silence, but it wasn’t particularly uncomfortable.

“Oh, right,” Doyoung finally said, clearing his throat, “There is something actually business related I could tell you.”

“Alright, shoot.”

“I was going to send back down that A45 form for the affiliate application, but I guess there were some mix-ups.” Under his breath, you were sure you could hear, “Apparently billionaires need to be coached on how to sign on a line. It’s marked with an X, Christ’s sake.”

You laughed at that, too, and this time Jaehyun looked over. You didn’t notice, but he looked generally confused about why you laughed twice in one phone call with Doyoung on the other end.

“Anyway, I’ll give them a call back and see if they can-- I don’t know, read or something. I’ll call you later if something comes up.”

You hung up the phone and smiled to yourself. It didn’t last long.

“What was that about, hm?” came Jaehyun’s voice, laced with some sort of suspicion he had cultured in that brain cage of his.

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Business as usual.”

“Uh huh,” he said, swiveling back to face his computer. You didn’t like the sound of that. Not one bit. Something told you that this was not the end of said conversation.

You turned back to the email you had been working on, but it was hard to concentrate. You found yourself stalling after every line, but couldn’t quite place why. With slow hands, you finally typed out the rest of the letter and sent it without proofreading. Decisively, you opened the top drawer of your desk and pulled out your phone. You started a text to Yuta.

[14:03] Y/N: yutaaaaa

[14:04] prince: What’s up, sunshine?

[14:04] Y/N: dinner. after work. assistance

[14:07] prince: Is this in reference to the Doyoung phone call I just witnessed the other half of?

[14:08] Y/N: wHA T T HE FUCKY ES

[14:08] Y/N: oh my god youre psychic arent you ohmgyod how could you not tell me

[14:10] prince: I’ll be at your house with wine at five thirty.

[14:10] Y/N: answer my question you clairvoyant cuck

The end of the work day drug on, and fifty minutes felt like decades before you could run out of the office. You sped through as much traffic as you could before passive-aggressively tapping your nails against the steering wheel at no one in particular. Despite the obvious inconvenience, sitting in rush hour traffic out of the business district did pose a new predicament; more time to think about your seemingly small interaction with your colleague. There was something charming about the whole situation.You didn’t want to get ahead of yourself, but he genuinely seemed sweet-- rough start and all. You hadn’t wanted to care as much about the notes as you let yourself think you should. It was almost a relief to know he placed weight on those tiny records the same way you did; maybe even more.

By the time you pulled into your parking structure, your stomach was flipping anew. It was less about Doyoung and more about the inevitable teasing you were going to receive from Yuta. There was a thrill to it, though. You hadn’t seen Yuta in much too long for your liking. For how much the two of you used to talk, you both had admittedly gotten caught up in the new contract and your new partners. You missed his snide remarks in a way that Jaehyun would never understand the way you did. Childish, sure, but you had a loving sense of possessiveness over your coworker.

You pulled your bag out of the passenger seat and made your way through the parking garage. As you walked, you pulled a fastener folder out and flipped it open. There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, really. Demographics, charts, audience feedback. You flipped through them with something bordering on laziness as you climbed the stairs into your building.

Two sore legs and seven flights of stairs later, you arrived outside of your apartment door. You shoved the key into the metal door and pushed it open. Your dimly light studio apartment stared back at you. Your studio was L shaped, kitchen and living room as you walked in, and nook to left for your bed, dresser, and bathroom. You knew in the back of your head that you could move in at a nicer apartment, somewhere bigger and closer to work. But you liked this place. It was home to all the firsts you had out of high school. After landing the job at SM, you put down your down payment on this slice of urban block. You bought furniture, made your own meals, had adult sleepovers, all for the first time and on your own. Sure, the AC sucked sometimes, but that’s what top floor windows are for. And yeah, the large concrete tiles on the floor were freezing in the winter, but what else are you supposed to buy rugs for? You kicked off your shoes at the door and hung your coat on the rack.

No sooner had you dropped your bag and folder on the table as the door reverberated with a knock.There was a hustle in your step to open it.

The door swung open to reveal the smiling face of Yuta, in the flesh. He was holding a bottle of red wine and an attitude to match. You hugged and invited him in. The cold air from outside seemed to cling to him as you took his coat for him.

“How are you still in work clothes?” he asked, looking you up and down.

“I barely beat you home,” you said, running your hand through your hair, “I swear to god you’re a super-person or something. Super speed.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is super-hero,” Yuta laughed as he looked through your cupboards for wine glasses.

You scoffed at that, “Hardly.”

“Hey!” he whipped around to throw you a pointed look, but you were already headed for your dresser, ducking behind the corner.

You changed into sweats and and a loose t-shirt before finding your way back to the kitchen island. There was already a well filled glass of wine waiting for you. You climbed into one of the bar stools, tucking your feet up under yourself, and taking your glass. Yuta was leaned over the opposite side of the island.

The corner of Yuta’s lip quirked upward, “Spill.”

A blush crept up through your face and you smiled besides yourself. You hid behind your glass and took a sip. You noted absently that Yuta had great taste in wine.

“Well,” you started, putting your glass down on the counter, “What do you already know?”

“That is a dangerous question,” he leaned impossibly closer, swirling his wine with one hand, “What don’t I know?”

You rolled your eyes at his theatrics, “There are times when your psychic act has very blurry edges.”

You took the time to give Yuta a rundown of the situation, despite his ~psychic comment~. You started from the beginning, your first day working with him and the unpleasant conversation; moved on to talking about the notes you passed, feeling reminiscent of a high-schooler again; ended on today, talking on the phone and it being… nice? You felt dumb talking about your feelings for some reason. It wasn’t because of Yuta; even though the two of you could joke, he took your feelings very seriously. It was more to the point that all of this had been in your head before. Up until that point, the entire thing was abstract and fluid. Once it was said out loud, it felt final.

Yuta was quiet when you spoke, only piping up after you were done. “Why is this a bad thing?”

“It’s… not?” you said, bordering on a question. You didn’t know what you said that made it seem that way.

“I’m just asking because you look troubled,” Yuta tipped the rest of his wine into his mouth before pouring both of you a fresh glass.

You were suddenly aware of the tension you held in your features, brows taught and mouth turned slightly downwards. You did what you could to relax.

“Have you dated since high school, Y/N?” There was nonchalance in his voice, but the question felt loaded.

“I--,” you paused, taken aback, “No. I haven’t, I guess I-- I haven’t had time to date.”

“I’m only asking,” Yuta circled the counter to sit next to you, “Because it sounds like you have a crush.”

You laughed at that, actually laughed, deep in your chest. For some reason, the idea of it seemed outrageous, actually insane. You hadn’t even thought about someone in a similar context since your senior year. Somewhere along the way, you found that attraction was akin to weakness. In your profession, it was in your favor to be romantically unavailable. Regardless of how bad it sounded, when you were pitching an advertising campaign to a room full of single sponsors, being notably single yourself could be considered an… asset, so to speak.

“I do not have a crush,” the words felt juvenile coming out of your mouth.

Yuta quirked his brow at that, and that was what sent you over the edge.

“Fuck. I have a crush.”

“My point exactly,” he took a deliberate sip off his wine.

“Oh god,” you groaned, sitting back into your seat, “What am I supposed to do?”

Yuta smiled into his glass, “Ask him out for drinks. I think the whole thing is cute. And he’s quite the looker, anyway.”

“Is he?” You asked, picking your head up.

“Uh. Yeah? You don’t think so?” He looked genuinely confused.

“Well, how would I know?” There was a lace of exasperation through your words.

Yuta blanked at you, “Because you have eyes?”

It occurred to you then that you hadn’t mentioned a vital point.

“We’ve never-- we’ve never met in person.”

There was a clear moment of processing on Yuta’s end. You recognized you probably should have fronted with that info. He tipped back the rest of his second glass before he finally spoke again.

“This makes things more interesting,” he paused, then, “Didn’t he introduce himself to all the departments on his first day?”

“I was out sick,” you smiled sheepishly. Yuta saw through it.

“Hungover,” there was a tone in his voice like he finally put all the pieces together.

You nodded. It seemed like the only thing to do.

“If it’s any help, he is nice to look at.”

A laugh bubbled out of your lips besides yourself. Yuta was good at that.

“I mean,” he started, “It isn’t like it’s hopeless. We all work in the same building.”

“Yeah, but what excuse do I have to walk up to your department? Isn’t that weird?” you asked, feeling particularly lost on what exactly to do. “I was hoping he would just be awful and I would never have to bother with going up to meet him, but now it’s been too long, hasn’t it? Weeks, Yuta, weeks!”

There was a sigh and roll of eyes from your old partner. He clearly was not enthused with the melodrama.

“It really isn--,” he cut himself short and you could practically hear the gears in his head start working in reverse.

See, in Yuta’s mind, he had finally found it. The man loved his drama in whatever form he could get it; animes, k-dramas, telenovelas. And now, by god, he had his own! Right in front of his very eyes! The generally accepted right answer would have been along the lines of ‘No, there is never a bad time to stop by and say hello, it is completely normal.’ However, the fun answer was closer along the lines of something to keep him entertained.

“--Isn’t the right time to introduce yourself, I guess. I mean, everyone is busy with this merger right now, anyway. It’s not like you can’t afterwards, though.” He sent a sympathetic look your way.

You threw your head back and groaned. Of course Yuta was right! You glanced across the counter at the thick file of take-home work you had to do this weekend and quickly landed on the fact that you did not need to be looking into romantic interests at that time. Everyone in the entire building was overloaded, not excluding the secretaries (which caused a mental not to take Donghyuck coffee on Monday).

You rolled your head back upright and checked the clock on your microwave. It was already seven thirty, and the late fall sun was already down.

“Are you hungry?” You decided to take a break from the Doyoung topic.

“Famished.”

“Pizza?”

“You read my mind.”

“Looks like you aren’t the only psychic around here,” you shot him a playful wink, “You planning on staying the night?”

Yuta stretched and checked his watch, “Only if you don’t mind.”

“Never,” you smiled at him. “You can change into some of my pajamas.”

He flashed a wolfish grin at you, “Lingerie?”

“If you’re so brave,” you laughed.

Yuta went off to change and you ordered the pizza. An hour and more wine later, the pizza had arrived and you and Yuta were both bundled up on your bed, halfway through Spirited Away playing on your laptop at the foot of the bed. He had not, in fact, rummaged through your delicates. He had emerged out of your bathroom in an old pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that was decidedly more snug on his frame than yours. The situation was comfortable, crumbs in bed and all. You tipped your head on to his shoulder, and he leaned his temple against your crown. You archived the moment into reasons why you loved your friend.

On screen, No Face had begun luring the workers with gold. You quirked your head up slightly to look at Yuta, who was looking at something on his phone.

“How’s logistics been?” you asked quietly.

Yuta locked his phone and looked down at you, “It’s been busy. Jae’s a pain.”

“Preaching to the choir, Yuta. At least you get to hang up the phone.” You felt Yuta’s chest rumble against your side.

“No shit. I don’t know how I would have managed if I still had to babysit both of you.”

You scoffed. “You love me anyway.”

“On the good days.” You thumped his chest for that one. You were rewarded with a half-assed, mumbled apology.

“Doyoung is good,” you said, “Funny, too, the more I get to know him.”

Yuta made an amused noise, somewhere between a hum and a sigh. “I think he likes you, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he adjusted his arm to rest over your shoulder instead of between you, “That conversation earlier today was pretty telling. Never see him smile on the phone more than he does with you.”

It was quiet for a few minutes, save for the noise of the movie.

“What does he look like?” you asked without thinking.

“Handsome,” he pulled the blankets closer to himself. “Even by my standards. Tall, too, maybe six foot? Good nose, strong jaw, pale skin. Really big eyes. Nice style. Great hair, too, almost better than mine. Wears glasses sometimes.”

“There’s an easier way of saying that,” Yuta looked down at you, confused. “You can say he’s out of my league.”

You received a slap on the arm for that.

It was starting to to hit that you were tired. The work week and the wine were catching up with you. You pulled the comforter up closer to your chin and turned tighter towards the warmth that was Yuta. Somehow you felt better and worse than you had when you left the office. Better, because at least you had someone who knew about the situation with you, but also worse, because you had a newfound crush and no plan of action. You tried to keep your stomach from turning with anxiety.

You woke up to the sun shining through your apartment and onto your face. From the kitchen, you could hear Yuta searching through your cabinets again. You pulled yourself upright and tried not to groan.

After passive-aggressively throwing the curtains closed you found your way to the kitchen. Yuta smiled at you and handed you a warm mug of coffee.

“Figured I’d make you some liquid energy before I head out,” He smiled, tapping his mug against yours.

You took a sip, “Off so soon?”

“I’ve got a hot date at noon, and I would like to look relatively presentable,” he winked at you.

“And I thought it was something I said,” you quipped back playfully. “But really, thanks for hearing me out about my dumb office drama. It means a lot.”

“Any time, you know that.”

“So who is this date with, anyway?”

If you hadn’t known him better, you would have missed the soft rosiness that nipped at the tips of his ears. “Too soon to tell you.”

You raised your eyebrow at that, “Trying to flesh him out first?”

“Don’t want to waste your time if he turns out to be a bust, that’s all.”

“Sure,” you humored him, pressing your knuckles to the mug to warm them.

He shot you a knowing look. You knew it wouldn’t be a bust, but you also knew Yuta loved his fairy-tales. You could handle that.

“I should get going,” he said after a moment. He placed his then empty mug in the sink. “Mind if I hold onto these clothes till I see you next?”

You waved him off, taking another sip off of your coffee. “I don’t care. Look better on you, anyway.”

He beamed at that, hitting some ridiculous pose. You both laughed and you helped him with his jacket. After a quick goodbye and a hug, he was out the door and gone.

Your apartment was quiet again, leaving you with the feeling you always got after you had guests around; loneliness. It wasn’t too often that you thought about it in detail, but something about that morning was different. You thought about what it would be like if after company left, you weren’t alone. If you always had someone there. To be clear, you never took your platonic interactions for granted. You never really wanted anything more out of them either, regardless of who it was. You didn’t know where you were going with your thoughts, but it was early and confusing. You finished the rest of your coffee in silence, looking out the window at the urban landscape.

Soon enough after, you decided it was time to get your Saturday-morning-self together. You took a longer shower than necessary, taking the time to look over yourself. Yuta’s description of Doyoung crept into your head and you found yourself looking at yourself, more carefully than usual. He seemed so perfect, the way your friend described him. You ran your hands up your sides and pulled at the skin on your hips. For the first time in a very long time, you were self conscious of your body, and you couldn’t place why. It wasn’t like anything had changed. Hell, Doyoung didn’t even know what you looked like. But, therein was the problem, wasn’t it? What if he didn’t like the way you looked? You dipped your head and rubbed at the tension in your shoulders. You were getting way ahead of yourself. You barely knew him.

You stepped out of the shower and put on clothes, simple. Jeans, an old shirt. It didn’t matter what you looked like, you were working from home. You poured yourself another cup of coffee and picked your laptop off the foot of the bed. The file from yesterday was still on the island in the kitchen, so that’s where you decided to set up camp.

As you were waiting for your laptop to boot up, you pulled the file closer to yourself. The paperwork was still there, too much work for two days. You looked over the reports again. You flipped to the final spreadsheet and a paper behind it shifted, one you hadn’t seen before. You squinted at it like it was an intruder. With careful hands, you pulled the new paper out from the folder. Of all things, you hadn’t expected this.

In your hands was a flyer to the company holiday party. ‘SM Entertainment Annual Holiday Party.’ You had known the party was happening. It was the talk of the entire building for the whole season of fall; Ten wouldn’t shut up about it, and Jaehyun had already asked you to color coordinate with him. The party and the flyer were not the surprising things. The sticky note with clean, familiar handwriting that was attached to it was.

Y/N,

Are you going? My old building

never hosted parties like this. It

would be nice to see a familiar

face there. Or voice, I suppose.

-DY

You stared at the note for a long moment. This? This changed things.

#nct #nct imagines #nct fic #doyoung fic #doyoung #office!au #crossed wires #nakamoto yuta #fic #imagines

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surrounded-by-superheroes · 6 years

Text

Queen Epilogue

Chapter Twenty-Three here.

Summary; A shape-shifting girl with a bad past is recruited by Nick Fury into the Avengers. It’s there that she finally starts learning to let people in again and she’s especially intrigued by a blond haired and blue eyed Captain America. Will she learn to let him in? Will her past actually stay in the past?

A/N; I had to add Christmas. Thank you so much for reading! Reblog and comment please!!

Warnings; Language, cuteness.

Words; 3,273

Epilogue

*Christmas Eve Night*

I roll over in Steve’s bed when I hear the door open. Bucky stands just inside the door, looking at me without surprise. I sleep in here more than my own anyways, my room is more of an art studio for me now. He walks over silently and crouches beside the bed.

“…can I..I mean…would it be okay if…” Bucky whispers and struggles to get his words out. I blink a couple of times to wake myself up a little more before addressing him.

“Bucky, you don’t have to ask. Just get in.” I croak as quietly as I can to avoid waking up Steve. Steve and I were on one side of the bed huddled together, leaving the other side open. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, not in the least. In fact, it almost always happened when Natasha was out on a mission. Bucky hadn’t been cleared to work yet, so he had to stay behind. Ever since it had turned cold Bucky had gotten more fidgety than usual. The cold reminded him of his past. He would find either Steve or me and stay with us during the night. More often than not it was with both of us. Neither of us minded at all. Bucky’s a heater. I’d even woken up with my arms wrapped around his metal arm to keep me cool between the two men.

“Are you sure? Would Steve-”

“Buck. Shut the hell up and get in the bed.” Steve tells him firmly. Even in the dark I can see Bucky’s white smile. He climbs in and gets under the covers, letting in a cold breeze that isn’t welcome. Steve’s arms tighten around me when I shiver, but as soon as Bucky settles I’m warm again. We all fall asleep again easily with each other for company.

I wake up in the morning to Steve getting out of bed, jostling Bucky and I in the process. We both groan and I move closer to Bucky, now lacking warmth on one side. We curl together, keeping the warmth between us. Steve chuckles and I hear him moving around the room as he changes.

“You two should get up too. It’s time for our run.” He tells us quietly. Bucky and I both groan at him, making Steve chuckle again. I open my eyes and sigh at the morning. I pat Bucky’s chest and his arms open, like pressing a button for the elevator. I roll out of bed and am greeted with a kiss on the lips from Steve. Despite myself I smile at the trouble maker. I head to the top drawer of Steve’s dresser, my work out clothes were kept in here. I rarely work out without Steve anyway, so it just made sense to keep them here. I change, not worrying about Bucky getting up and seeing me. He’s always the last to get up. Besides, Bucky’s like my brother. I really wouldn’t care if he saw me butt naked, it wouldn’t matter. I finish changing as Steve tugs Bucky out of bed, like always. “Come on, Buck. Sam’s going to be here any minute.” Steve plays on Sam and Bucky’s playful rivalry to get him up.

“Already here.” Sam says, leaning against the door frame. “Late as always, I see. Am I the only gentleman on this team?” He teases. I walk over and punch his shoulder for the comment, but he just laughs. Bucky’s up in a second after hearing Sam, and is ready in less than a minute after changing in the bathroom.

“It’s the only time you’re first at anything, so I’d say cherish our lateness.” Bucky quips, grinning and suddenly wide awake. Sam rolls his eyes and walks out. We all follow him, Steve and I in the back, stretching, and Bucky and Sam in the lead, arguing. When we reach the door that leads outside I groan.

“Does anyone else understand how crazy and I don’t know…CRAZY it is for us to run in New York city, in the winter, when it’s icy and snowy?” I ask, staring out at the winter wonderland in front of us. I love winter, I really do. But I love the warm fires, the snuggling, the sweaters, the hot chocolate, and the occasional snow ball fight. I’m not a fan of freezing my ass off at seven in the morning from running with two assholes. Two assholes who run ahead, and Sam who I willingly stay beside. Sam whispers yes under his breath but Steve and Bucky are grinning, excited for the competition that’s about to start. Sam drops back beside me and lets Steve take his place next to Bucky as the doors open. Instantly, they both take off, both trying to outrun the other. Sam and I both sigh and start jogging leisurely. We follow our normal route through the city and Steve laps us twice with Bucky, before I start feeling the urge to compete rise up in me. It isn’t unusual that they lap us, but this time every time they do they tap Sam and I’s shoulders.

“On your left.”

“On your right.” They both say as they pass us. I huff after the second time and look at Sam.

“Do it for the both of us.” He pushes me forward and I start to sprint. I shift the muscles in my legs so they’re stronger and catch up with Bucky and Steve in a pinch. I put myself between them and shove both of their shoulders, hard. They end up toppling over and landing in piles of snow. I skid to a stop and shift my muscles back to normal as Sam gains on us. I hear him laughing long before he gets there. Dazed, Steve and Bucky sit up and shake the snow out of their hair.

“That’s what you both get for being such jerks.” I huff, placing my hands on my hips. They stare up at me, Bucky pouting and Steve half-smiling. Finally, Sam catches up and wraps his arms around me. He embraces me, picks me up off the ground, and spins me.

“Yes! Finally!” He shouts, then puts me down as I giggle. All of a sudden, Sam staggers backwards when a snowball hits his face. We all laugh quietly before we’re disturbed by the ringing of someone’s cellphone. My nose scrunches up as I pull mine out. Tony had given it to me a while ago so I could always reach him. Of course, he’d already put everyone’s contacts in it and had personalized each ringtone. The one screaming at me right now is Black Sabbath’s Iron Man, telling me it’s Tony calling. I roll my eyes as the guys giggle, but answer the phone.

“Hey, T. What’s up?” I ask, stopping the ringtone in the middle of the song.

“Queen, where the hell are you and the boys? It’s Christmas morning! Everyone’s already in the living room distributing gifts!” Tony shouts at me through the phone. I laugh and point back at the tower to signal to the boys that we need to go back.

“Okay, okay. Calm down. We’re on our way back right now. Don’t open anything until we get there!” I assure him. We both hang up and all of us start to jog. This time, Bucky and Steve stay next to us. As soon as we get back to the tower I shed my coat and boots, but keep my red long-sleeved T and navy sweatpants. We all head up to the normal gathering room and are greeted by noisy hellos and big hugs. Then, we all sit in a large oval, going to wherever our piles of presents are. Steve and I are beside each other, then Bucky, Wanda, Vision, Rhodes, Tony, Sam, ending with Grant next to me to complete the circle. Clint had left a little after Nat to spend his holiday elsewhere. Bucky glances sadly at Nat’s pile of presents under the tree, but smiles again when Steve claps a hand on his shoulder.

“Okay!” Tony starts and we all quiet, turning to listen to him. “Now, we’re going to do this nice and civilized. Grant over there will start, then we’ll go clockwise until everyone is done. As per tradition, everyone has one gift from everyone that they made themselves, basically so I don’t kick everyone’s ass by buying everyone the best gifts.” Tony says cockily then sits down on the couch and nods at Grant to tell him to start.

“Swear jar.” Everyone shouts and Tony rolls his eyes, rolling up a couple spare bills in his pocket and tossing it in the ever-growing money pile in a large jar on the mantle. Grant had started it a while ago. I’ll give it to the kid, he’s smart. He’s made at least a thousand dollars already, mostly thanks to Tony. I smile at Grant’s messy head of hair as he grabs the gift on top of his present mountain. His pile is significantly larger than anyone else’s and that makes me ridiculously happy. Everyone has really taken him under their wing.

“Alright, this is from Uncle T.” He grins and I can’t help but smile when he uses a variation of the nickname I call Tony. He rips open the shiny, red paper to reveal a plain looking box about the size of a loaf of bread. He takes the top off and groans in happiness. “You’re kidding me!” He exclaims and jams his hands down into the box. When his hands emerge from the box they’re covered in black and yellow metal. I immediately look at Tony who’s already looking at me with a sheepish grin on his face.

“How could you?” I mouth at him and he smirks at my reaction. Grant apparently saw me because he rushes to assure me.

“Aw, don’t worry Victory. I’ll be super safe when I’m using them and Uncle T will watch me the whole time. Until he’s sure I’ve got a handle on them.” Grant says, his eyes big and pleading. I stare him before sighing and giving in. “Yes!” Grant exclaims and everyone chuckles at his excitement. My turn now. I grab a small yellow box by my side and put it in my lap.

“Hey, that’s from me!” Sam bellows, leaning forward in his seat. I giggle a little at him and open the box carefully, unfolding the paper instead of ripping it. There’s a little navy box inside. I open it and smile instantly, a laugh bubbling out of my lips the next second. Inside the box is a bracelet cuff, shiny and silver. Where it connects are wings, like an angel, or a falcon. “Now, you can show some proper respect to your brother from another mother.” Sam says happily. I laugh at him and put the cuff on my upper arm, adjusting it so that the wings are facing outwards.

“Thanks Sam, I love it. I really love it.” I tell him genuinely. He nods in acknowledgement. I look over at Steve to find he’s already dragged a large box in front of him and has untied the large bow on it. I laugh as he rips open the shiny, red paper like a kid. Soon a box is revealed and this one isn’t blank. It’s a record player, the picture on the box is beautiful, cherry wood one. Steve caresses the box before looking up at Tony happily. Tony shrugs.

“I thought you’d like something from your past. Other than your friend anyway.” Tony teases Bucky who narrows his eyes at the use of old. Steve chuckles.

“Thanks Tony. I appreciate it.” Steve tells him, but Tony just waves a hand at him.

“You’ll find some records in that pile there soon enough too.” He tells him and Steve just can’t seem to stop smiling. Bucky’s turn. Immediately, he picks up a box wrapped in newspaper. I have a hunch this gift is from Steve. My hunch is confirmed when Steve looks away from his new toy to watch Bucky open it with a nervous smile. It’s a shoe box, but seeing Bucky’s face when he opens it makes me think that there aren’t shoes inside.

“Uh, they’re letters.” Steve starts to explain. “I wrote them from the day you…fell…up to when you came back. I lost the letters from the forty’s, but I copied them from memory. I’d write one whenever I wanted to tell you something or just needed to talk.” Steve ends, a slight pink tint appearing on his cheeks. Suddenly, Bucky puts down the box and wraps an arm around Steve. They hug for a moment and when they both pull away they smile like fools.

“Just kiss.” Tony says under his breath and everyone laughs quietly. Steve rolls his eyes and leans over, giving me a quick kiss instead. Bucky gets up and kisses me on the cheek too, making everyone laugh again. “Alright, alright, moving on.” Tony groans. Wanda uses her powers to pick a present in the middle of her pile.

“From Vis.” She reads and smiles softly. Vision sits up a little straighter in his seat and swallows. I’ve never seen him look so nervous. She opens the tiny box and pulls out a SD card. She picks it up and looks at Vision expectantly.

“It has all the pictures of you and your family I could find, as well as music that’s native to your home country. I thought you’d like a bit of your home to hold onto.” Vision explains, his nervousness fading when he sees Wanda’s big smile. She puts the SD card into her pocket and nods at Vision.

“Thanks, Vis.” She tells him. He smiles and it’s surprisingly charming. It’s his turn next. Sadly, his pile is the smallest because no one had any ideas as to what to get him. Gingerly he takes one off the top; a long, thin box covered in gold paper and wrapped with a thin, sheer red ribbon. It’s mine. I twist a piece of my hair between my fingers as he opens it, nervous he won’t like it. Steve places his hand on my knee and squeezes lightly to reassure me. Vision opens it very carefully and smiles when he unrolls the paper in his hands. He looks up at me and I’m shocked to find that his eyes are touched.

“It’s, uh, it’s a painting of you and the team made from computer code. If I did it right, it should repeat-”

“Family.” He finishes and runs a thumb tenderly across the bottom of the page. “Thank you, Victoria. It’s breathtaking.” He compliments and I let out a sigh of relief then smile brightly at him. Rhodey is next and he looks straight at Tony as he picks up the gift from Tony.

“Oh, so this is how it’s going to be?” Tony asks playfully as Rhodes smirks.

“Yeah, this is how it’s going to be.” He continues opening the present and pulls out a small strip of paper from a tiny box. Rhodes reads it, then laughs and sends Tony a knowing look. “Is this the number-”

“Of that brunette you ran into last week? Yeah, you’re welcome.” Tony responds and starts opening his gift, Rhodes staring and smiling at the strip of paper in his hands. The gift Tony’s opening is from Grant, I’d helped him wrap all his gifts to the team. The minute Tony can see what’s in the box he laughs and it does my heart good to see Grant’s bleach white smile. “Is this what I think it is?” Tony asks, running a hand lovingly down whatever’s in the box. All I can tell is that it’s circular by the way Tony’s arm is moving. Grant nods and Bucky groans.

“Can we tell the not geniuses what’s in the box?” He says and I nod in agreement. Tony takes a circular mechanical thing out of the box, then sticks his hand under his shirt. We all hear a slight click and Tony’s reactor suddenly starts emitting a green light, then pink, red, purple, yellow, then disco. Grant’s grinning like crazy and so is Tony. God, they really found each other. Tony waves Grant over and tugs him into his arms, giving him a tight hug before launching him back into his spot next to me.

“Damn, we’ve all been out gifted.” Sam whispers under his breath.

“Swear jar.” Everyone says in unison and Sam rolls his eyes. He contributes, then realizes it’s his turn.

“Well, I think I’ll open this one.” He says dramatically and picks up the gift from Bucky.

“Oh, geez here we go.” Bucky breathes and I cover my mouth to mask my giggle. Sam rips open the brown packaging with vigor and a bright grin on his face and throws the top at Steve, who catches it of course. As soon as Sam’s eyes land on what’s in the box Bucky bursts out laughing as Sam glares at him. Everyone stares at Bucky, no one but Steve and I have really seen him express emotion like this. Sam fights his smile, but it wins out. He pulls out a black steering wheel and shakes his head.

“This is the same damn model too. Barnes, you’re a little bastard.” Sam partially scolds and rolls up a few dollar bills to put in the swear jar before we can yell at him to do it.

“You’re welcome.” Bucky responds and takes the top from Steve to throw it back at Sam. He catches it and puts the top back on in one swift move. I shake my head at the three of them. Troublemakers.

“Go ahead mini me! Your turn!” Tony exclaims at Grant, making Grant’s teeth flash in the light as he grins cheekily. We keep going around the circle until everyone has opened all their presents. At the end I push our present piles aside and put my head down in Steve’s lap, then shut my eyes. Steve instantly lifts my head up and lays my hair out so I don’t pull it. He plays with it absentmindedly as he talks with Bucky about Natasha. I hear Vision and Wanda whispering quietly to each other while Tony and Rhodes talk about the brunette Rhodey met. Grant’s explaining how he made Tony’s gift and Sam is asking if he can make something similar to put on his wings. I grin and sigh.

“Hey, babe?” I say quietly, but instantly gain Steve’s attention.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” He answers and I open my eyes to see his pretty blue ones.

“Let’s make every Christmas like this, okay? Family around, crazy gifts, minimum amount of fighting. Okay? Every Christmas.” I tell him and his sweet smile just grows as I go on. He nods and leans down to give me a sweet kiss.

“Alright, Ria. Every year it’ll be like this.” He promises and I grab his hand in mine happily. “Maybe we’ll even have more additions in the years to come.” He proposes and my eyes widen, but so does my smile. I nod, then hear a small explosion to my right. I sigh and pop up to find Grant with a blackened face, wearing the gauntlet Tony gave him. Steve stands too and wraps his arms around me. “Every year.” He repeats and gets a hearty laugh out of me. I shake my head as he releases me to deal with the slight mess. Every year, I chuckle to myself.

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