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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

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CSI Rogers and Barnes: The Serious Cereal Serial Killer Episode 16: Is This Thing Rolling...

Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Part 2

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Please read Part 1 first.

“I’m not trying that on, you seen the price tag?” Bucky glared at Katie who narrowed he eyes as she held up the Midnight Blue Soho Double Breasted wool suit.

“You are so trying it on Barnes, you’ll look amazing in it.” She insisted. “Trust me, Sam will love it”

“Sam can wear it if he loves it.” Bucky shook his head. “Doll face, it’s almost five hundred bucks!”

“It’s a Paul Smith” she shrugged “You want quality, you gotta pay. Trust me, a good suit is an investment Bucky.”

Bucky considered this for a moment before he cocked his head and a teasing grin spread across his face “Yeah, I suppose. And I can always use it for the next wedding.”

“You’re not getting married in that.” Katie shook her head. “You need a tux.”

“I’m not getting married, you are.” He looked at her and she rolled her eyes, well used to his constant teasing about he and Steve’s future by now.

“Just try on the goddamned suit.”

“Cranky much?” he mumbled.

“May I remind you that I am hungover and you dragged me out here to help you but you keep bitching about everything I suggest. I should be dying on my sofa indulging in indecent amounts of sugar.” Kate narrowed he eyes at him.

“Technically it’s not your sofa. You might have moved in, but…”

“Err, it belongs to Steve and he belongs to me, ergo it’s mine.”

“You know I could argue against that but if I ask him he will probably say of course I’m hers with that stupid goofy smile on his dumb face.”

Katie smirked “Exactly.” She thrust the suit at him “Go. Try. NOW!”

Bucky took the suit “Vicious.”

Leaving Katie glaring at his back he headed into the changing room and quickly stripped before pulling on the suit. And, in all fairness, he had to hand it to Katie, it was smart, probably the nicest one he has ever worn to be fair. It felt good, decent quality and was tailored exceptionally well. Dare he admit it, he looked pretty damned good. He opened the cubicle door and walked out of the changing room to get Stark’s opinion, finding her stood not far away looking at something on her phone, frowning.

“You ok?” he asked, and she nodded, not raising her head, her eyes fixed on the screen.

“Yeah was just looking at some photos that Tony put of the bachelor party on facebook…” she took a breath and looked at Bucky “How did Steve really get that black eye? I can tell he is lying to me.”

Ah, crap… should have seen that one coming Barnes.

He let out a sigh “Ask him”

“I did, and now I’m asking you.”

He groaned, knowing full well he wasn’t going to get out of this. Fuck you, Steve, fuck you.

“Fine, I’ll tell you if you promise not to freak out.” He looked at Katie who nodded.

“Promise”

“Why don’t I believe you? And if you say anything to Steve I’ll bug your bedroom and post the recordings on my Instastories”

“I said I wouldn’t flip out at you.” She looked at him “That’s all I’m promising, but seeing as we’re making threats, James, if you don’t tell me I’ll also post a video. The one I got of you singing into a wooden spoon the other morning to The Sound Of Music”

Bucky felt his mouth drop open in horror. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me bitch.” She shook her head “It will go under the caption of Bucky Von Crapp, seeing as you sounded like a strangled cat.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, as he began to recall the events of the previous night.

“Be your bachelor party next.” Bucky grinned at Steve as they stood at the bar in the compound.

Steve rolled his eyes “Just don’t.”

“Come on punk, you know it ain’t that far-fetched.” Bucky grinned and turned to order their drinks. Just as he was paying he heard Steve muttering to the side of him.

“You gotta be shitting me.”

Frowning he turned to look at Steve, whose jaw was twitching. His nostrils flared as he’s glared at something, or someone. Bucky followed his eyeline and saw a tall, slim, dark haired man dressed in a white button down and black slacks, stood with a group of other guys.

“Am I supposed to know who that is?” he turned back to Steve, a puzzled expression on his face.

“I wish I didn’t know who it is. It’s Ward.” Steve replied simply.

Bucky’s frown deepened as he looked back at the man, then turned once more to Steve “As in Stark’s douchebag ex Ward?”

“In the flesh.”

Bucky took the beer from the bartender with a thanks and looked Ward over again “He looks like a dick.”

Besides him Steve picked up his beer, “If it looks like a dick…” at that point Ward let out a huge laugh, “And sounds like a dick…”

Bucky snorted and watched as a slim, bottle blonde woman in a tight skirt and very revealing top approached Ward. Ward smiled and looped an arm round her, giving her a kiss.

“Wait…is that who he did the dirty on Stark with?” Bucky looked at Steve.

The Captain nodded.

“Talk about a down grade.” Bucky shook his head “She ain’t a patch on your girl Stevie.”

“I know, thanks pal.” Steve gave a small smile then sighed “If Tony sees him….” He glanced around for the man in question to see him stood with a few other members of the Batchelor Party, looking the other way.

“Why is he even in here? I thought Pepper vetoed him after the incident on the karaoke night?” Bucky asked.

“She did. But Happy isn’t working is he? He’s over there drinking with Tony, and Pepper aint here either so… “ Steve took a breath and frowned “I don’t get it, why would he want to come here anyway? And how would he know he’d get in…unless…he found out about the party somehow…”

“Probably just a coincidence.” Bucky offered.

“I don’t believe in coincidences Buck.” Steve looked at him. Bucky held his gaze for a moment before he turned back in Ward’s direction and took a deep breath as he saw the man in question’s eyes flick towards them. A sly grin spread across Ward’s face and he said something to the woman who nodded as he began to head towards them.

“Well, looks like we’re about to find out.” Bucky muttered. Steve turned to him, followed his gaze and the rolled his eyes, turning back to the bar.

Ward stopped at the other side of the bar, placing his order before he remarked. “Rogers.”

Steve didn’t even look at him when he replied “What are you doing here Ward?”

“Same as you, having a good time with some friends.” He gestured back to the group he had been with “ I see it’s Tony’s bachelor party. Pepper, I presume?”

Steve continued to ignore him.

“Give him my regards.”

At that, Steve turned his head in Ward’s direction just long enough to shoot him a filthy look before he picked up his drink.

“Come on Rogers, you still bitter at me?”

Steve swallowed a mouthful of his beer “Bitter isn’t exactly the word I would use” his voice was flat, unemotional, and Bucky knew that was far more dangerous than when he displayed out and out anger.

Time to step in.

“Look, jack ass…” Bucky pulled himself up to his full height and glared at Ward. “Why don’t you go and talk to Tony yourself. Sure he’d be thrilled to see you after what you did to his sister.”

Ward looked down at Bucky, there was a few inches height difference but it didn’t bother the Sergeant in the slightest. He knew if it came to it he could handle his own.

“And you are?” Ward raised his eyebrows.

“Barnes. Sergeant James Barnes.”

“That’s quite a mouthful Sergeant.” Ward mused. “And, speaking of mouthfuls. How’s Katie doing Rogers?”

Steve gripped his beer bottle tighter, an action Bucky saw in the corner of his eye. “Don’t you even mention her name asshole.”

“Are you ever gonna man up and ask her out?” Ward shook his head and at that Steve turned to face him.

“I’m warning you. Stop talking about her.”

At his words a smirk spread across Ward’s face. “Oh my god, you finally did…you two are…you’re together.”

Steve simply stared at him as Bucky grinned, unable to stop himself from speaking the childish insult that had cropped into his head.

“Well I know which one of you got the short straw, I mean you didn’t exactly trade Stark in for a better model did you? Certainly not from the looks of your poor man’s Dolly Parton over there anyway.”

To his delight the smug grin on Ward’s face slipped and a flash of anger was noticeable in his eyes.

Steve lay his a hand on Bucky’s shoulder “Leave it pal, he’s not worth it.” But it was too late, Ward has bitten back, rising to Bucky’s jibe.

“Don’t you dare talk about my fiancé that way.”

And at that Steve snorted “Fiancé? Seriously?”

Ward glared at him “You got something to say Rogers?”

“Nothing at all.” Steve chuckled. “I wish her luck, she’s gonna need it.” With that he picked up his bottle “Come on Buck.”

Steve turned to go and Bucky looked Ward up and down one more time, smirking, before he to made to follow Steve.

Crisis averted.

“Hey, Rogers? She’s a good fuck isn’t she?”

Crisis re-emerging.

Steve stopped, his shoulders tense and he took a deep breath, but didn’t turn round.

“Does she still do that thing with her nose? You know, just as she’s about to come? That little twich?” Ward continued, letting out a little groan “Man even thinking about that now does things to me…I kinda miss it.”

At that Steve spun around, blazing with anger ready to go for Ward but he was too late. Bucky had already shoved the asshole hard in the chest.

“You’re really starting to piss me off.” He growled as Ward stumbled back a few steps. Bucky clocked that some of his friends were now walking towards them, and was distracted slightly when Ward shoved him back. Bucky then spotted the swing that was coming his way and ducked. Unfortunately Steve, who was stood behind him, took the punch straight to the left side of his face. The Captain staggered a few steps backwards before he righted himself and then drew his right fist back and smacked it straight into Ward’s nose. Ward dropped to the floor, blood billowing down his shirt as Steve shook his fist out, flexing his fingers.

Bucky blinked as Ward lay on the floor, the force of Steve’s punch knocking him out cold and he turned to his friend, raising an eyebrow a little “I had him on the ropes.”

“I know you did.” Steve looked at his friend before he sighed “Suppose we better call 911 so they can get him on a gurney…”

Katie blinked as Bucky finished his tale. “So it was Ward?”

Bucky nodded “You understand why he didn’t want to tell you now, yeah?”

“I guess so” she bit her lip.

“I gotta ask, what the fuck did you ever see in him?” Bucky shook his head “Tony’s right, the guy is a shitweasel.”

She snorted “Trust me, I have no idea.”

Silence fell between the two of them and Bucky took a deep breath “You’re not mad are you?”

“Mad? No, I just think you’re a pussy for dodging the punch and letting Stevie take it Barnes.” She teased, smiling at him.

He shrugged “First time for everything.”

“Suppose I’ll have to thank you both for defending my honour.” She smiled, before her smile turned into a dirty smirk “But your thanks will be a little less physical than Steve’s.”

Bucky groaned “Gross.” He then looked at her, narrowing his eyes “You promised not to tell him I told you.”

“No I promised not to go mad.” She stated.

Bucky looked at her, contemplating her words before he realised that was in fact what she had said. He let out a growl of frustration and shook his head “Whatever.”

At that point they both heard a low whistle and turned to see Sam striding through the men’s boutique towards them.

“Well look at you sergeant Barnes, you’re gonna kill all the ladies” Sam grinned, raising his hand and extending his finger and thumb in a gun motion “Pew pew!”

Katie turned to Bucky, smiling “Told you he was gonna love it.”

Bucky rolled his eyes before he smirked and turned to Sam “Not the ladies I’m after.” And with that he gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“Aww you two are so cute.” Katie clapped her hands together.

“Piss off Stark” Bucky shot back.

“Now who’s cranky?” she laughed “I tell you you’re cute and you get all pissy!”

Bucky shook his head “I’m gonna get out of this suit.”

“Need any help.” Sam quipped and Katie arched an eyebrow.

“Guess I’ll be right there at the opposite side of the store, pretending I don’t know you two.”

“Now you know how I feel around you and Stevie.” Bucky looked at her.

Katie laughed “You know, the 4 of us should go out again soon.”

“Yeah, but without the element of surprise this time.” Sam shot her and Bucky an accusatory look

“Well it’s all out in the open now. But I kinda miss the sneaking around…it was a little exciting.” Katie shrugged.

“Seriously?” Sam looked at her and she snorted.

“No, it was hell.” And then she grinned “Although the secret sex was good.”

“Tell me more girl.” Sam wiggled his eyebrows and Bucky shook his head.

“Trust me you don’t want to know”

“Oh, trust me I do.”

“And on that note, now I’m really gonna go get changed.” Bucky nodded towards the changing rooms “Then we can drop you home so you can die on the sofa.”

“Actually I need you to drop me off at Momma Rogers’” she said.

“Oooh you having lunch at Sarah’s?” Bucky smiled, knowing full well that he’d end up with an invite when he dropped her off.

“Yup, and I can’t wait.” She said, “I need food. My stomach feels like its eating itself.”

***** Steve walked into his Ma’s, stamping his feet on the mat, ridding his boots of the light dusting of snow he’d picked up since getting out of the car.

“Ma?” he gave a shout as he unwrapped the scarf from round his neck and began to undo his thick, blue quilted Canada Goose jacket. She emerged out of the kitchen into the hall and beamed at him, but her smile slipped and she nodded to his face.

“I thought the days of you coming home with a black eye were well behind you.” She stared at him “What the hell did you do?”

“Things got a bit messy at Tony’s stag party” he shrugged as his mom gently reached up to cup his cheek, tilting his face round so she can see it better. “Don’t fuss ma.”

“Shut up Steven.” Sarah’s voice was as stern as her face “I’m your mother and I’ll fuss if I want to.”

Steve rolled his eyes as her hand dropped back to her side. “Has Star seen this?”

“We live together. Of course she has.”

“Hmm, bet she didn’t like it either.” Sarah shot back “Good job you’re a fast healer. That would look a right mess in the wedding photos next week.”

“He came off worse, trust me.” Steve shrugged off her comment.

“You’re a Captain in the NYPD Steven, fancy brawling in a bar like some school kid.” His mother shook her head.

“I know ma, but…well it had to be done, and I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.” He urged, hoping she would take the hint and drop it but of course she didn’t.

“What do you mean it had to be done?” she pressed and Steve knew he wasn’t going to be able to fob her off so decided to tell her the truth.

“Ward showed up last night at the compound. He was saying vile things about Katie. Really vile”

“So you punched him?” Sarah deadpanned.

“No, I mean yes, after he took a swing at Bucky…look, it’s really not a big deal.”

Sarah narrowed her eyes “I really don’t like that boy. Tony isn’t particularly fond of him either.”

“That’s because he’s a prick.” Steve shrugged.

“Language Steven. But yes, he is a prick. Now, let me get you some tea.”

Steve followed her into the kitchen and she filled the kettle and Steve started rummaging in the fridge for a snack.

“You know it’s funny his name is Grant.”

Steve emerged with a piece of pie that he had found and looked at her “What do you mean?” He took a bite of the pie which turned out to be cherry. It was good.

“I mean you both share the name and couldn’t be more different from one another.” His mother mused.

Steve swallowed his food. “Well, not all the ladies called Sarah are as pretty as you…or make as good a pie as you.”

Sarah smiled at her son, shaking her head. “Shut up Stevie.”

He chuckled “What you making for lunch?” he asked as he checked his watch to see it was almost 1. Kate had text him about 15 minutes ago to say they were leaving the store in Brooklyn City centre so she shouldn’t be far off.

“I take it that means you’re staying then?” Sarah turned to look at him and he grinned, as she shook her head, smiling to herself “Oh, and where is Star by the way?”

“She’s gone shopping with Bucky for a suit. Told her to meet me here if that’s ok? She shouldn’t be long.”

“Of course it’s ok. You’re always welcome here, you know that.”

Steve smiled, swallowed the last of his pie and took a deep breath. He knew that he didn’t have long to do what he needed to do before Katie arrived so he had to do it now. “Er, Ma, before she gets here, I err, I wanted to talk to you.” He said, his hand gently rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah?” she asked, not looking at him as she reached for 2 mugs in the cupboard.

“Yeah…” god his palms were sweaty, this shouldn’t be as nerve wracking as it was, it’s his mom…

Sarah turned to face him, a mug still in her right hand and she frowned at the expression on his face. “What is it son? What’s wrong?

“Nothing’s wrong. Quite the opposite actually.” He took another deep, shaky breath and smiled at his mom. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking these last few days especially, and, well, with Katie living with me for the past few months it’s kinda hit home just how good it feels, ya know? And I want it all the time…so before I came here, I went to ask Tony for his blessing to ask Katie to marry me.” At his words he watched the mug slip from his mother’s fingers and it hit the tiled floor and smashed. He had expected her to react in some way but not quite like that. “Ma you ok?” He watched as she brought a trembling hand to her mouth.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ok Stevie…it’s just…” she blinked “I’ve been waiting for this day to arrive for so long.”

Steve couldn’t resist teasing her “I didn’t say he had given his blessing.”

His mom looked at him, arching an eyebrow “Would it make a difference to you if he hadn’t?”

“Not really.” He shrugged, smiling softly.

“But he has right?” Sarah looked at him “Because I know Howard and Maria would be as happy as I am right now.”

Steve smiled softly. “Yeah. He did. Long Story, but…let’s just say I know Howard would be happy too. But don’t get too excited, she hasn’t said yes yet.”

Sarah scoffed “Oh hush, like she’s gonna say no!”

He smiled softly before he looked at his feet before he glanced back at his mother “So, Ma, I was…I was wondering if I could have you ring?”

Sarah smiled, her eyes shining as she gave a nod “Of course you can son.” She walked towards him and cupped his face “It’s been waiting for you for years.”

Steve smiled, the lump that he had earlier felt in his throat in Tony’s study was back again as he looked at his mom. “You know, there was a time I thought I’d ask you for it for Peggy.”

Sarah shook her head and with a simply shrug stated “I always knew it would be Star’s”

The sentiment hit Steve like a tonne of bricks. First Howard, now his mom. The man he had long since come to regard as a father and his mother had both spotted what he had failed to see for almost a decade.

“Ma…” he managed to choke out, his eyes filling and Sarah smiled.

“I know son. And it makes me so happy to know you’re happy too. Finally.” She leaned up to give him a huge and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

She left the kitchen leaving Steve to his own thoughts. He’d had a few doubts, not about marrying Katie, but whether or not it was too soon, but that fact that neither Tony nor his mother had commented on the fact that they’d only technically been together for 3 months. In reality they’d been with one another for much longer, having been best friends and dare he say it, completely and utterly blind to what was in front of them. There wasn’t a woman in the world that would ever come close. He smiled to himself, suddenly his eye didn’t hurt anymore. After speaking to Tony and his ma, and most importantly Howard’s message he felt like he was living his life how he should be. He had everything he has ever wanted, and more.

Sarah walked back into the room and handed him a black velvet ring box. He opened it, smiling as he took in the ring which sat nestled in the ruby red silk inside of the box. It was a large oval shaped diamond, with a pave set slim band. It was delicate enough to suit his girl but also big enough to be flashy, which he knew she wouldn’t care about but he did. There was something in his ego that wanted Katie to have a decent rock on her finger. But the main thing about it was the sentiment. This had belonged to his great-grandmother, then his grandmother, and now his mother, passed down the Roger’s side of the family for generations until it reached his Pa. He looked at his mom, his eyes straying to her ring finger where she still wore her simple wedding band having stopped wearing her engagement ring some 5 years or so after his father had died. When he had asked her why, she’d sighed and simply said that on what would have been their 10th wedding anniversary seeing it had made her sad as it reminded her of the day his father proposed. He hadn’t pushed her to explain, he understood.

“You know it was pretty unheard of to have a diamond that big back when your great-grandfather bought but, well, you know the Rogers side had some connections so to speak.” She said and Steve snorted. He had a feeling if he dug far enough back into his father’s side of the family he would uncover all sorts of Irish-Italian mob members, which was the reason he had never bothered.

“I forgot how pretty it is” Steve smiled “It’s been years since I last saw it. But I remember how I used to play with it when I was little and you held me in your arms when I was sick.” Sarah smiled fondly “Yes you used to like to roll it around my finger.”

“It was soothing.” Steve said, his eyes on the ring as it sparkled in the light of the kitchen. “I liked how it shone under the light.”

“Maybe one day your kids will do the same to Star.” Sarah said, a little suggestion in her tone and Steve looked at her.

“I’d like that Ma.” He confirmed and she took a deep breath.

“Well, I hope it happens soon.” The looked at him pointedly “I’m getting old Steve and I want to be able to run around after my grandkids.”

“Behave!” Steve laughed, shutting the box as he looked at her, smirking “There’s plenty of life in the old dog yet.”

Sarah narrowed her eyes at him “Cheeky.”

At that point they were interrupted by the bell ringing followed by the opening of the door and Katie’s voice drifted up the hallway. “You’re such an ass Barnes, I ain’t rung the bell at this house for 9 and a half years!”

His best friend’s laugh hit his ears “ I like the sound it makes.”

Steve glanced at his mom, panic flooding his system as he curled his hand around the box.

“I’ll go see them in…buy you some time.” She nodded. As she walked out of the kitchen he heard her greeting Katie as he hastily stashed the ring box in his coat pocket where it was hanging on the chair back

“Oh, err…” he heard his mom stop and Bucky spoke.

“Sorry, Mrs R, this is…”

“I know who he is James, Sam worked with Steve long before you came back from Russia. I just didn’t know he was your Sam.”

“Sure am, Mrs Rogers. Nice to see you again.

At that point Katie walked into the Kitchen, pulling off her hat and her scarf, her cheeks pink from the cold. Steve smiled and opened his arms. “Hey sweetheart, you feeling better?”

She stepped into his embrace, taking the soft kiss he offered “Much, be even better still when I’ve eaten.”

He smiled and looked up at Bucky as Katie stepped back to take off her coat. “Get a suit, jerk?”

Bucky dropped his jacket onto a chair “Yeah and a pair of shiny shoes your girl insists are in fashion.”

Katie rolled her eyes “He looks good in it right Sam?”

“He sure does but…”

“Don’t say it Sam!” Bucky warned, and Steve had a feeling he knew what was coming next. And sure enough…

“He looks better out of it.”

Katie looked at Steve “See what I’ve had to put up with? Had to pretend I didn’t know em.”

“Welcome to the grossed out by another couple club, doll face.” Bucky looked at her and she rolled her eyes as Sarah laughed.

“They can’t still be that bad James.”

“The tales I could tell you about these two from the last week or so alone are NOT suitable for a Mom’s ears Mrs R.”

“Shut up Bucky.” Katie and Steve shot back in synergy.

“And they do that. Talk at the same time, say the same thing…” Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, it’s kinda freaky.” Sam nodded in agreement.

“You can shut up too Sam.” Steve looked at him.

“Hey don’t look at me. I do what he does…” he pointed to Bucky “only slower.”

Bucky glanced around, spotted the smashed mug on the tiles and pointed to it “What happened there?”

Steve looked at the mug, recalling the reason why it had smashed and was desperately trying to think of an excuse when his mom came to the rescue.

“Oh, I was making a tea and along came Stevie with his black eye and my mug slipped.” She looked at Bucky “By the way, James, Steve says you were involved too. Seems like the pair of you are back to being troublesome teenagers again.” She looked at Sam “I’d keep an eye on your boyfriend Sam. He needs to be put in check some times.”

Steve and Katie share a glance at Sarah’s use of the word boyfriend. It was a term Bucky hadn’t actually used when referring to Sam.

“He’s not my, we’re not…” Bucky trailed off as Sam glared at him.

“Well this is awkward.” He mumbled as Sarah narrowed her eyes

“You can’t lie to me James Barnes. You love this young man.”

And just like that Steve found himself smirking at the fact that someone was ripping into Bucky’s and not his relationship for a change

**** Of course Sarah wouldn’t dream of allowing Bucky and Sam to leave without being fed so the 5 of them ate lunch and then before the two men headed off to spend the rest of the afternoon together. As usual, Sarah insisted that Katie and Steve leave her to clear up so they retired to the living room and curled up on the sofa. The fire was on, giving the room a cosy, warm feel and Katie was sitting snuggled up to Steve, curled under a blanket.

After about 10 minutes her attention turned from the TV to his face. Steve could feel her eyes on him and he turned to face her as she sat up and her fingers gently caressed his eye and cheekbone.

“Does it hurt?” she asked him quietly.

“It did, not anymore.” He replied honestly.

“Good, close your eyes.” She instructed. Steve arched an eyebrow at her but did as he was told. She kisses his eyelid and around his bruise tenderly, her breath warm on his skin “Really Stevie” she took his face in both her hands and tiled it left, then right “ I’m so jealous of your eyelashes”

He laughed and opened his eyes, his hand running up the outside of her arm where it rest over her shoulder.

“Thank you.” She looked at him

“For what, doll?”

“For punching Ward.”

Steve looked at her, shaking his head “Fucking Bucky.”

“That’s Sam’s job” Katie said making him chuckle a little “Don’t be mad at him, I pushed him into telling me.”

“Should have figured you would.” He shrugged.

“Why’s that?”

“Because you can be persistent when you want to be sweetheart.” He smiled gently. “And you’re welcome. I’d do it again in a shot, you have no idea how good it felt.”

“My hero.” She smiled, “Guess not all superheroes wear capes, huh? Mind you, I’m not sure Superman would go around punching Lois Lane’s ex…”

“For the record, Superman does wear a cape, but that aside, even Superheroes have bad days doll.” Steve shrugged.

“You know, that’s a kid’s bedtime story.” She looked at him and he shot her a cheeky grin.

“I can read it to you tonight if you like?”

“How about you read it to me now Captain?” she arched an eyebrow as he looked down at her. Grinning he sat back against the cushions and pat his leg, gesturing with his head.

“Come here Doll.”

Katie moved so she was straddling him, her hands smoothed up his chest to his shoulder and his fell to her hips. Both of them threw a glance to the door of the room, conscious Sarah was in the kitchen, but there was no sign of her, Steve could hear her humming to a song vaguely in the kitchen and knew she would be in there for a while. He leaned up, pressing his lips to Katie’s, his hands moving and splaying on her back, pulling her closer.

Somehow it felt different to him. It was the first kiss they’d shard since he asked Tony and his ma those two important questions and it was almost like there was more to it, even though he never thought that would be possible. It struck him that the decision he had come to about asking her to share the rest of his life with her meant he would never kiss anyone else but her again but he didn’t care he didn’t want to.

He pushed up against her and she let out a soft sigh at the contact and rocked her hips slightly. An involuntary grunt slipped from his lips and the kiss grew frantic, for the moment the pair of them forgetting where they were until they heard a plate clatter in the kitchen. Both paused, their eyes opening as they looked at one another before they let out a soft laugh each, the ridiculousness of the situation not passing them by. Both in their 30s, acting like a pair of teenagers.

“How long has it been since you made out with a girl in here?” Katie teased.

Steve hesitated, in all honesty he had no idea. It had been a long time. “Erm, maybe 20 years, a little less?” he shrugged and Katie frowned.

“What, you mean you and Peggy didn’t…”

Steve shook his head “It wasn’t really something she would have done. She was too…proper I suppose is the word.”

Katie cocked her head to one side as if she was considering something before she shrugged “Her loss.”

“Can we not talk about her doll?” Steve said gently. He really didn’t want to think about anything like that. His hands moves and slid up and down the outside of her thighs and he smiled “It’s you and me now. No Peggy, no Ward…and I intend on keeping it that way till the end of the line.”

Katie smiled and her hands moved up to cup his cheeks, fingers scratching in his beard. “I love you Captain.”

Steve leaned up pressing his lips to hers gently before he pulled back, sliding his nose along hers as he whispered to her softly “Love you too doll.”

#csi rogers and barnes #csi au #steve rogers #steve rogers x original female character #katie stark

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theparanormalperiodical · 4 years

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The Real Story Behind The Babadook (2014), And 17 Weirdest Bogeymen From Around The World That Might Be Hiding Under Your Bed Right Now

Strange times we live in.

It’s a Saturday night, and I’m hauled up at home eating a vegetarian lasagne whilst my mother asks me for the 37th time why I’ve decided to give up meat, when really, if there was no global pandemic, I’d be hauled up at home eating a vegetarian lasagne whilst my mother asks me for the 37th time why I’ve decided to give up meat.

It really is a strange time we live in.

But, in my attempt to protect the vulnerable groups in society and halt the spread of the latest Twitter hashtag in its tracks, I decided to catch up on the horror films hadn’t found the time to press play on just yet.

So, a bucket of popcorn and some mild trauma later, I could finally join in the conversation about The Babadook.

6 years too late.

Nevertheless! Once I’d emotionally recovered, I finally had my Sex And The City moment. No, not the ones with feminism that would make Emilline Pankhurst perform the equivalent of a Viennese Waltz in her grave - the one where Carrie sits in her NYC apartment and thinks about men at her computer.

“I couldn’t help but wonder: could the Babadook be based on a true story? ”

Unfortunately, I discovered that the Babadook is based on the concept of the boogeyman, an urban legend that has a greater global reach than Covid-19.

So, to distract you from the global pandemic with the threat of a creature lurking under your bed and waiting to snatch an ankle, I thought I’d let you in on the reality behind this queer icon.

First, let’s talk ‘bout The Babadook.

It was one of the biggest hits of the 2010s, combining the classic trope of creepy children with the classic colour palette of depression. Our story follows a single mother and her son who begins to be visited by an imaginary creature fresh from the pages of a children’s book.

With spiky talon-like hands, a cloaked figure, a jaw crammed full of teeth, a face paler than that time you bought that foundation on a whim in TK Maxx - all crowned with a dusty hat - the Babadook the child was seeing certainly had a sense of style.

The child, Sam, begins to create intricate traps and weapons designed to stop the Babadook, all the while the book predicts the mother’s rather dark future. It becomes clear that the Bababook is preying on the mother and essentially possessing her, a diagnosis that is confirmed when the mother attempts to kill Sam.

She then regurgitates a black inky substance evocative of ectoplasm, and is released from its grip.

The film ends on the happy family feeding the Babadook as it lives in their basement.

This indie horror - once it had finished polishing the 5 awards on it’s mantelpiece - might have woven a intricate plot deviating from the simple basis of international man of mystery James Bond The Boogeyman, but the basis still sticks out more than that wardrobe in the corner of your bedroom you’re now highly conscious of.

Simply put, the Babadook matches the basic concept of the boogeyman:

There’s some weird, dark creature that knicks kids and eats ‘em if they wander alone or don’t go to bed or misbehave. Just like Krampus, the bogeyman is a legend propagated by parents to convince kids to stay in line.

That being said, the mythical creature isn’t the only inspo behind this cinema-hit.

Specifically, the brains behind the film, Jennifer Kent, claimed it was about a deep-rooted fear we all have: that of going mad. On top of this, it seeks to show parenting from a real perspective.

The film focuses on a single mother as she faces one of the most difficult challenges in life: she loses her husband whilst going to give birth to her son, and then has to raise him alone. But that is not all.

Kent also spoke of a real encounter with the bogeyman.

Basics, her bestie’s son was being plagued by an imaginary monster, so she pretended to talk to it to calm his concerns. Sure, this tale might not have kickstarted the real terror engaged with in this movie, but it invited us into the reality behind the bogeyman.

But beyond this, the movie also detracts from the Babadook, and instead looks for the primal instincts in the mother - it looks for the bogeyman within us all.

That’s right - the real horror that was inside us all along.

Yawn.

But the thing is, it also brings up hell of a lot of paranormal activity that is remarkably accurate to theories of the supernatural.

Let’s start with the introduction of the Babadook.

He arrives in the form of a creepy children’s book no one’s seen or heard of. Armed with a chilling nursery rhyme and an aesthetic last seen in 2007, the Babadook follows the basic principles of a basic haunting: ghost does spooky stuff, ghost spooks humans, humans invite it in following the consent laws of the universe by interacting with it, ghost spooky powers intensify.

This begins with the book itself. Although the film doesn’t consider if he is a paranormal being aligning with the concept of demons and spirits (etc.), this book follows the concept of haunted objects.

By opening the book and reading it - or, interacting with it - they invite in the Babadook. And when she tries to destroy it, it crops up again, fully intact and conveniently lying on her doorstep.

No ‘sorry we missed you card’ needed.

This closely follows the theory of the haunted object, something more on-trend than tutting at empty shelves in the grocery store. Haunted objects have a habit of failing to be destroyed, and by engaging with them, such as not asking permission for taking a picture of a haunted doll, you enter communication with them.

From there, you’ve basically consented to a full possession. The object is a vessel for a spirit or a demon until a new, better, breathing vessel can be found.

You can find out more about this here.

I can’t find anything about haunted books specifically online, but as a variety of haunted objects exist, from bunk beds to boxes, I’m sure there’s potential for it.

Next is the eventual possession of the mother.

One of the most dramatic moments we witness is when the mother coughs up this black bile which represents the removal of the Babadook. This bears a striking resemblance to ectoplasm, a white liquid often released by those experiencing intense paranormal activity.

When mediums experience a trance-like state, they supposedly release a fabric-like or thick substance that darkens as physic energy is intensified. It allows those in the supernatural realm to interact with the physical realm, and for spirits to represent themselves to the audience of a seance.

This film was one of the first to explore the potential paranormal explanations behind the bogeyman, and give some basis to a beast that has haunted communities since the beginning of time.

Speaking of the beast…

Who is the bogeyman?

It’s sometime in the 1500s.

We are in the middle of a small country called England, struggling to make ends meet between the near constant famine, the anxiety of being cursed by a witch, or some war with [insert european nation that may or may not exist anymore].

Either way, when we aren’t trying to spell everything with an ‘e’ at the end, we are being taunted by hobgoblins.

These pesky beasts made their name in tormenting Englishmen, playing pranks on them or simply just being foul.

Hobgoblins are the OG bogeymen, or are the first we can trace back to recorded sources. But they were no means the last. And they were by no means the only ones in the world.

As a simple definition, the bogeyman is a mythical creature that makes sure kids are staying in line, and was made up by parents. The thing is, the bogeyman features in every culture that has ever been created.

And given the realm of the paranormal explored so far on this blog, perhaps your local Babadook isn’t so out of the question.

The bogeyman has always claimed a rather vague existence, representing a non-specific terror that has even extended to just ‘being the devil’ in some cases. The origins of the name are no different: ‘bogge’ comes from middle english, meaning ‘something frightening’ or ‘scarecrow’.

It has even been interpreted to mean ‘goat’ which can be traced to relations to the devil.

Appearance wise, the bogeyman has several broad features that stretch across cultures. Standard features include sharp teeth, talon or claw-like hands, hooves for feet, and even bug-like features. The Babadook might have shared in a few of these #basic-bogeyman traits, but it’s not all about looks.

How does his personality fair?

The bogeyman can pick between three personality types: something that punishes misbehaving children; one that is just violent for the hell of it which includes stealing kids, and eating them and/or taking them back to hell; or one that protects the innocent.

“So what you’re saying is, this is a vague looking creature with a vague personality with vague ambitions that is made up by parents who are tired of their kids interrupting their vague post-marital sex?”

Okay, fine, the bogeyman bears little resemblance to the basic concept of the bogeyman. But this is what makes him the international man of mystery. It’s the regional divergences between each nation’s own Babadook that makes this creature quite so peculiar.

You see, I assumed the bogeyman would be a universal concept draped in more black clothes than a kid that was in the throes of that scene where Edward leaves Bella.

Turns out that there’s actually a band of bogeymen which can be specified by their not-so-casual racism and genitalia.

But as the 195 countries dotted across the globe have fostered their own child-eating monster, I thought I’d cut to the chase and fill you in on the world’s weirdest bogeymen.

*Rolls up sleeves of Team Edward hoodie*

The Sack Man

Making his cinematic debut in The Nightmare Before Christmas, the Sack Man is the international symbol for the bogeyman. Whether he himself is draped in sack-like materials, or is lugging one around with him, Hombre Del Saco uses his luggage to capture and carry naughty children away to, uh, somewhere.

Most popular in Latin countries and Eastern Europe, the Sack Man is the most well travelled bogeyman on this list.

Babaroga

The original inspiration behind the Babadook - note the similar name - Babaroga is a resident of Serbia and its neighbouring countries. However, the mood board for the Babadook’s inspiration stopped there.

Babaroga literally translates to “old woman with horns”.

And this pensioner spends her time finding children, putting them in a sack (how original), bringing them to her cave, and eating them. Or, to shake things up, she pulls childrens through small holes in the ceiling.

El Coco

When he’s not featuring in lovable Disney hits, El Coco is snatching kids that don’t get to sleep when they should. With nursery rhymes detailing the legend - a chilling similarity to the Babadook - spanish-language countries across the globe are versed in reportedly seeing a coconut-like face hiding under their beds.

With a brown hairy face and body, and glowing red eyes to match, this famous humanoid might be closer than you think.

“Que viene el Coco y te comerá”

- A line from the traditional Spanish nursery rhyme.

The Mamma

Pakistan gets its fair share of attention on the news cycle, but aside from the war going on, no one has ever noted the rather peculiar beast haunting the nation’s young women.

The Mamma isn’t the mothering being the name suggests, but is a large ape that lives in the mountains and only comes to the civilised world when in need of a young girl. Once he’s kidnapped ‘em and taken ‘em back to his cave, he licks their hands and feet so they can’t escape.

I have a strong feeling that what happens next to these innocent women isn’t as silly as someone licking your feet.

La Tulievieja

Bringing together the award-winning aesthetic of The Ring and the naseau-inducing aesthetic of Cats, La Tulievieja is Panama’s warning for naughty children. Legend has it she is a spirit cursed by God for drowning her child.

The thing is, God’s curse was, uh, confused. Her monstrous form consists of acne scarring, long hair, claws for hands, a cat’s body and a farmyard animal’s hooved feet. On top of that, she also looks like the child she drowned.

Yep, confused.

The Jersey Devil

Most countries suffer from multiple bogeymen - here in the UK, for example, we have 12 varieties - and America is no different. The Jersey Devil is actually one of 4 variants, and, like La Tulievieja, is also confused.

Fresh from the jaws of New Jersey, this beast has a horse’s head, bat wings, hooves, and a snake’s tail. First spotted in the 18th century and then again in 1909, it is believed that this legend was actually manufactured as a real estate hoax to coax residents into lowering their selling prices.

You might be able to deny the existence of this beast, but the Cipelahq (a large owl), the Long Black Being that makes a habit of slithering round like a snake, and Bloody Bones (a dancing skeleton and a separate skull) have yet to be disproven.

The Copperpenis Owl

Hungary has 3 different bogeyman, and most fit the description of the international beast: there’s one with a sack, there’s one which is just a-bit-beasty, and then there’s the giant owl with a penis made of copper.

I personally feel a Babadook with rose gold genitalia circa 2013 might have detracted from the overall feel of the film.

Ijiraq and the Qalupalik

Iniut communities also follow beliefs in the bogeyman, and probably focus on them more than others because if you wander off in the Arctic you will either get mauled by a bear and die, or freeze.

And then you’ll die.

They actually have 2 resident bogeymen. There’s the Ijiraq, a shapeshifter that kidnaps kids. You know, pretty basic bitch stuff. And then there’s the Qalupalik who is slightly more spooky.

This is a mermaid laden with green skin, long fingernails, and ratty hair that carry babies away in amauti (pouches or sacks for carrying kids) and bring them to live in their underwater world.

Butzemann

Remember when I mentioned that thing about casual racism? It’s a bit of grey area, ironically.

Germany’s very own bogeyman is known as The Black Man.

(You can see my point.)

That being said, this probably doesn’t actually refer to the colour of his skin as most Germans during the Middle Ages hadn’t actually seen anyone from the African continent. Instead, his outdated nickname was actually down to his preference for dark corners.

The closet, under the bed, in forests during the early hours... If it’s spooky, you’ll find him here.

Babau

Germany isn’t the only country with politically incorrect bogeyman. Italy has its very own Black Man, a mysterious figure which often features as a black man (gasp) or a black ghost. Only this entity has no legs.

The Marabbecca on the other hand is specific to Sicily, and mirrors the mythology of the Inuits.

Don’t play too close to the water, kids, or a Marabbecca will swim up and drag you to your watery grave!

The Kropeman

Our final iconic bogeyman isn’t like the other girls, even if his fellow Luxembourgian monsters are. There’s yet another Black Man, and there’s something about an uncle, but it's the Kropeman which has me sleeping with the lights on.

Under the streets of this small country roams a man with a long hook.

When he’s not busy dodging rats in the sewers, he’s grabbing kids by their nose via the hook, and dragging ‘em down into the storm drains.

So - which one is hiding in your closet?

(Aside from the queerness your inner 14 year old hasn’t fully unleashed yet like a big bisexual dragon spewing flames of gender-neutralness.)

(Don’t worry, I’m fine.)

Are you a whore for horror? Passionate about the paranormal? Do you want to see a new real ghost story every day? Then you have to follow this blog.

Read this post next!

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bapyess1r · 4 years

Text

Amphetamine

WARNINGS: you already know lol

Chapter 2

Talia’s POV

I was awakened by the sound of live music being played in the distance. I winced a bit as I looked over the clock. 9:30 AM. ‘Are they practicing already?’ I thought with a groan as I sat up. I scratched an itchy spot under my messy bun and stood to crack the bones in my back. Stretching my arms, I made my way to the bathroom. I almost startled myself as I noticed my swollen eyes and dried drool in the corner of my mouth. I had to fix it. I briefly adjusted my nose ring before ridding myself of the large tee shirt and began my shower. I took a deep breath as I stepped into the hot water, basking in the pleasantness of the morning sun coming through the windows. I could hear some solos being played from the shower and began to imagine Sam with his guitar in hand. I grinned, actually excited for the night ahead. Then I remembered him pointing a pistol at me and pouted a bit. I couldn’t just forget about that. What started off to be a great morning suddenly turned dull from the thought. I changed into a black AC/DC crop top (cut off purely because I was bored), white cargo pants fitted to every curve, and beat up black converse, the laces wrapped around my ankles. I combed my hair and put on a fair amount of makeup, thick black wings lining my eyes and lashes not too long. ‘Don’t wanna fly away and shit…’ I thought with a brief guffaw. I left the bathroom, drying my hair a bit more with my towel as my Godmother left from the kids room carrying her baby boy. The youngest of her three.

“Good morning, night owl! I was afraid you weren’t gonna wake up in time, you were up and out so late.” She laughed.

“I know! I’m sorry! I hung out with the band for a while after practice- hey baby!” I was distracted by their youngest daughter, Ava, who walked up to me with open arms in hopes to be picked up. Of course I did. She wrapped her arms around me as I sat her up on my hip, continuing the conversation as I followed my Godmother to the kitchen. “And that Sam guy came back so there’s that….”

“Oh yeah?” She smoothed a blonde strand of hair behind her ears as she put JJ in his baby booster seat.

“Yeah. I spooked him on accident but he was really nice about it.” I told her, skipping over the part about the gun as the baby gave me a big juicy gummy smile as he laughed joyfully. ‘Oh to be that carefree again…’ I thought with a smile as I turned on Disney jr for the kids and started on breakfast.

“Oh so you’ve met him already?” She began to grab bowls and spoons for the kids before walking to the kitchen, passing me as I made way to the stove.

“Yeah. He’s kinda cute for an old guy.” I smirked.

“He is good lookin’, right?” She whispered to me with a girlish grin, hoping her husband hadn’t heard. It was adorable. “Are you gonna play with the band tonight?”

“Well I was but he wants to play with just them tonight since it’s been a while. I’m gonna play next weekend.” I prepared to make bacon and eggs as she poured cereal on the booster seat tray and in the bowls for her daughters.

“Well that’s very nice of you, Talia.” She sounded proud of me. But I was honestly just being courteous.

“I wanna go see Sam!” The oldest of the three, Mariah said, waving her spoon in the air as she smiled at her mother.

“You’ll get to see him tonight when they play tonight, sweetie! You guys wanna go hear some music before bedtime tonight?” And with that, the girls cheered. “James gets off early today so you won’t have to worry about watching the kids tonight.” She said to me.

“Thank you! Because I had not a clue about how I was gonna watch the three of them and prepare for the block party.”

“Did you need me to ask your Godfather to stop somewhere and grab anything?”

“I may need some ice. Possibly some lighting fluid for the grill. Marcel is gonna grill what I prepare. And then Louie and Jules were gonna go purchase the alcoholic beverages…” I wiggles my eyebrows thinking of how absolutely trashed I planned on being tonight. And my friend from New York was supposed to come down and visit as well. Remembering that- “SHIT- I mean….dang…” I switched up my language, remembering I was in the company of children. “I forgot I have to pick up Anna from the airport! I’m gonna have to pick her up.”

“Do you need the car seats for the kids? I can set them out for you when you get ready to go.” She asked as I scooped up all of what I cooked into a plate with a piece of toast.

“That would be great! Now… I’m gonna take my breakfast to my spot on the docks and consume a bit of Can- Do- Nicotine.”

“Ok. I can take care of them til you’re done but then I gotta go to hospital.”

“Will do!” I hollered, grabbing my cigarettes and lighter on the way out the door.

As I exited into the driveway, I could hear the band practicing behind closed doors. I bobbed my head to what I thought might’ve been Orange Crush by R.E.M. It sounded almost exact. I sat down with my legs hanging off the ledge of the docks and lit my cigarette, ready to relax and consume breakfast. But then they stopped playing. “Booooo!” I said to myself in disappointment. I wanted to catch Sam singing; guess I missed it. I took a healthy drag and it wasn’t too long before he found himself outside with me.

“Y’know I definitely recall finding this smoke spot a long time ago.” He said and I turned with a large grin. He was decked out in a tight white v neck and a bold palm leaf printed Hawaiian shirt, his eyes hidden behind black shades. He smiled at me as a cigarette dangled from his mouth as he tried to light it against the winds.

“Finders keepers. And you were here to be fair.” I said before scooping the eggs and bacon onto my toast and holding it like a taco, taking a massive bite out of it. With an amused chuckle, he sat down and joined me. “Nice duds.” I gestured to his outfit of choice for the day with a slight look of judgement.

“What- you don’t like this?!”

“I didn’t say all that… It’s just an interesting look.” I giggled, diverting my eyes to the calm morning sea.

“You don’t like it.”

“I…. think there’s better Hawaiian shirts out there. Ones that don’t give off narc vibes.”

“Now I look like a cop?!”

“The shades and the conceal pistol doesn’t help your case either.”

“Wooooooow…..” he said in disbelief causing me to deliver the ugliest laugh. “Speaking of…. I just wanna apologize again for how I reacted to you last night. It was a long night and I’m still a bit jet legged.”

“Where’d you come from?”

“Peru.”

“Oooo what’s in Peru?”

“The Lost Treasure of Lima…” he waved a hand across the horizon of the sea for dramatic effect. Shit, it worked on me. I ooo’d in the background and allowed him to tell me about it. “Captain William Thompson was supposed to be in charge of transporting all of Lima’s riches to Mexíco as they were about to be on the edge of a revolt. He couldn’t resist the temptation of all that money and turned pirate.”

“How did I know this was gonna be about pirates?”

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for a good pirate story.” He smirked before continuing. “Basically, he and his crew were caught by the Spanish, they made a deal that they’d take them to where they ‘allegedly’ buried the treasure, got them as far as Cocos Island which was pretty close to Costa Rica, then split up to divvy the treasure. They managed to escape the jungle and were never seen again. The Spanish still never found the treasure.”

“And you did?” I asked, extremely impressed.

“I did not. Unfortunately.” he replied sourly, taking a drag of his cigarette. “We were close though…”

“What stopped you?” I asked, letting the nicotine fill my lungs. He sighed and began fidgeting with his lighter again.

“Would you believe me if I said we weren’t allowed to hunt there?”

“I see…” I definitely didn’t believe him. He didn’t seem like the type to just stop when he was so close. I began to finish the last few bites of breakfast and lit a second cigarette.

“What are your plans for the day? Seeing as you’re not playing tonight.” He said with a sneaky smirk.

“Go ahead and rub it in.” I joked. “I am preparing a few foods for Marcel to grill after your set.”

“A woman after my own heart!” he dramatically placed a hand on his chest and began fanning himself. I felt comfortable enough to punch him in the arm playfully. “Whatcha cookin’?”

“Devilled eggs, potato salad, chicken salad, kebabs, I have some chicken I managed to marinate before bed last night, burgers, and corn on the cob. And I have YET to start on a good chunk of these things AND I’m watching the kids until my Godfather gets off work. I also have to pick up my best friend from the airport. She’s visiting this weekend.” Just thinking about all of it, I got stressed out all over again.

“Well you do have a lot on your plate. Who’s your Godfather?”

“James Edwards.”

“You’re James’s kid?! Shit. I’m in big trouble.”

“How so?” I asked with a curious smile. He readied his mouth to answer but I could tell he made the decision to change the subject.

“Listen, I’m done rehearsing for the day. I can come over and help with the kids while you cook and run n’ grab your friend.” he offered. I looked at him with so much hope.

“Oh my god would you really?”

“Yeah! I love those kids! I kinda missed 'em since I’ve been gone.”

“So you’re close with my Godfamily then.”

“James and Barbs are good pals of mine. They never mentioned you to me not once.”

“I just moved here a month ago. I guess right before you left-” Just then I was interrupted by my Godmother’s call. “That’s my cue.” I began gathering my plate and ashed out my cigarette, he did the same.

“I’ll come with.” He smiled. For some reason, my stomach lurched and I became really nervous about it. If we were going to work together on the band, I was going to have to get used to it. He hopped up from his spot and offered a hand to me. With ease he pulled me up and grabbed the plate out of my hand to trash it for me as I walked towards the gate. Still, he beat me to it and opened the gate for me, gesturing to the entrance all corny-like. “Ladies first.” he said rather smoothly. I took an exhausted deep breath and brushed by him quickly, not allowing him to see my burning red face. “Howdy, Barbs!” He greeted my Godmother as she rushed to her car but stopped to hug him briefly and hand me JJ. “Hey, slugger.” He poked the baby in his little pudgy tummy and I smiled.

“Hey Sam! I heard you got in last night! We missed ya around here. Been too quiet.” she said opening the door to get in her silver accord.

“I’ll take the compliment.” he chuckled heartily. “So just a heads up, I’m gonna help Talia with the kids while she cooks and runs her errands.”

“That’s sweet- are you sure? I know you just got home.”

“Nah, I’m well rested and ready to get this show on the road. It’s no problem, really.”

With that she sighed. “Well the kids will be happy to see you, that’s for sure.” she quickly checked her watch before turning her attention to me. “Now, I gotta go. They’ve eaten breakfast. Just let ‘em play for a while, give them lunch, put them down for a nap. They should be good to go until James gets home.”

“Got it.” I nodded before she winked at me and smiled at Sam as he closed the car door for her. Sending her off with two heavy pats to the hood of the car.

He followed me into the cool air conditioned house and with a sigh he took off his bold hawaiin shirt and wiped the sweat off his face with it before hanging it on the back of one of the bar stools. As soon as the kids saw him they screamed their heads off swarming him. “AYE! There’s the little princesses!” He shouted, scooping them both up into his big arms. A man with kids was easily one of the most attractive things on the planet and he was really doing it for me. My thoughts were interrupted by a sharp tug on my hair. JJ had grabbed a fistful and tried to eat it.

“Lord, child….” I grunted as I tried to pry my hair out of his strong little baby hands. JJ just giggled at my struggle. “I love you, but you’re a pain!” I said kissing his forehead.

“Are you gonna stay to play, Sammy?” Mariah asked him, sweetly.

“I sure am, sweetheart.” he winked at her and she hugged his neck tighter.

‘Christ, that adorable!’ I thought as I walked over to him to give him JJ.

“Alright kiddies, while I’m doing a bit of cooking, you guys are gonna hang out with ‘Sammy’.” I said, emphasizing his little nickname to tease causing him to dart his eyes my way. I winked at him and backed away into the kitchen. “Have fuuunnn….” I sang as I stalked off. And with the kids outta the way I began to prepare for tonight's shindig. Just when I was getting started, I got a text on my phone from my best friend Anna.

Anna: I’m in the air, should be there in a few hours!

Me: get off the phone! Ur in a fucking aircraft!

Anna: well fine! Be that way bish! <3

Me: see you in a bit! Lol

#samuel drake #sam drake #samuel drake x reader #sam drake x reader #sam drake smut #uncharted 4 #uncharted #uncharted x reader #sam drake fanfiction

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zapiarty · 7 years

Note

Can you write the scene where Garashir get together for Milaverse?

Takes place just after Crossover in season 2.

As beginnings to a relationship went, theirs could, Julian thought, have gone better. It could, for example, have involved less shouting, no actual physical torture and…well, at least fewer lies. It would also, ideally, involve one participant not being a genetic augment whose very existence was a crime and the other not being a former operative of the Obsidian Order who probably hadn’t been lying about all the crimes he’d committed, but Julian probably wouldn’t have been interested if that weren’t the case. Still, that was no reason not to do things the right way now they’d started. Julian had dug out the one outfit he owned that didn’t make Garak wince at the sight of it, gone to some trouble to find a holoprogramme that might appeal to both their tastes and called in a favour from Dax to get her to babysit Mila for the evening. Still, he couldn’t help but feel oddly nervous when he knocked on the door of Garak’s quarters that evening, datarod in hand. Not of Garak himself, exactly, but…well, it had taken a full-blown argument to get Garak to believe Julian was interested at all, and it still wasn’t too late for him to decide to back out.

The door to Garak’s quarters opened a moment after Julian requested entrance, to reveal Garak with a look of mild surprise on his face. “My dear doctor, you’re not only on time for once, you’re early!”

Julian grinned, “Mila pretty much rushed me out of the door the moment I got her to Dax’s,” he said, “I’m not sure what they were planning to do with the evening, but it’s probably going to leave me owing Dax another favour or two.”

“All this, just for a single evening?”

“I live to impress,” Julian said wryly. “Is it working?”

“You are remarkably unsubtle. You’re not supposed to ask…you observe to see it is or not. Asking just ends the game.” Garak teased with a smirk.

“Patience was never my strong suit,” Julian said agreeably. “I’ve booked us a holosuite - thought it might be a bit more private than dinner at Quark’s, and it’s a chance to introduce you to a genre of human literature I don’t think I’ve mentioned before.”

“Oh? Well, I thank you for opting for the more private option, though I think I’ll have a word with Quark before we start…”

Julian raised his eyebrows, “I hadn’t heard he recorded goings-on inside the holosuites.” At least, he hoped Quark didn’t - there were a few things Julian didn’t want anyone knowing, even - make that especially - Garak.

Garak offered a wide smile, “Surely not. But it’s best to err on the side of caution.”

“Great. Shall we go, then?” Julian gestured broadly down the corridor, trying to resist the urge to fidget.

As they walked the hallway towards Quark’s, Garak’s eyes never once left Julian. “Tell me, just what genre are we experiencing?”

Julian grinned. “Spy fiction,” he said, “Do you have that on Cardassia? Or - is it considered seditious?”

For once, Garak’s surprised expression seemed honest. “Spy fiction? You have…a genre of literature where you reveal the secrets of your intelligence agencies?”

“…not quite.” Julian paused, trying to consider how to explain it. “A lot of the first writers in the genre were involved with intelligence - Ian Fleming was, and John Le Carre - but the genre…evolved beyond strict realism quite quickly. Well, Fleming’s did. Le Carre is a bit more grounded - remind me to lend you The Spy Who Came in From the Cold at some point, I think you’d like it. It’s cynical enough to appeal to you.”

“I’m not sure I believe you, from past experiences of you lending me books you think I’d like…”

“You admitted to quite liking Pride and Prejudice,” Julian pointed out, stung.

“Compared to the others, yes, until the end. Really, that book is unfinished.” Garak sniffed, looking for all the world like it was a crime to leave Pride and Prejudice as it was.

Julian stared. “It’s considered to have one of the neatest endings in literature - everything’s tied up, everyone’s married off, we know what happens to everyone…It’s actually been criticised for being a bit too finished.”

“Too finished! We know nothing of what happens next, it really is very frustrating-” Garak stopped and smiled, “But I believe we’ve gotten distracted. Tell me more about this…spy genre?”

Julian nodded, and tried to marshal what he knew. “Well, the genre is divided into several…I tend to think of them as ‘flavours’? The Le Carre-style very gritty, low-key approach, which tends to focus on political double-dealing, grey morality and the awful things people have to do to serve their countries and their causes at the cost of their own morals is one…but it’s not the only one, or even the most popular.” He grinned. “Then, there’s the style I tend to think of as ‘martini-flavoured’. Wildly unrealistic, fraught with improbably over-the-top-danger…there’s usually a deathtrap or two involved…sort of the glamorised image of what spying involved, although there were one or two people out there who actually did live that way, if we’re to believe the historical record. Granted, they usually didn’t do it for very long, but-”

“Fascinating. And which…flavor…are we trying?”

Julian grinned, “That would be option number three. Affectionately referred to in fan circles as ‘dirty martini’. It’s…marrying the two, I suppose. A lot of the absurdity and glamour of martini-style, but with the heavier political themes, grey morality and a bit of the cynicism of the first kind. It seemed like a good compromise.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll withhold judgement until after the game. Though, I’ll tell you now, that I’ll likely not be interested in just the…martini-flavoured. As a tailor, I take these things very seriously.”

Julian raised his eyebrows. “I am shocked,” he said teasingly, “Shocked that you mean to pass up such an opportunity to mock our absurd Federation romanticism.”

Garak slowly looked Julian up and down before give a half smile, “Well…when you put it like that…perhaps I will consider it.”

“Glad to hear it.” Julian coughed. “This particular story is actually a few centuries old, and it’s been retold so many times that no-one quite agrees on what the proper characterisation should be, so we’re more-or-less free to do as we like. The original was actually partly written by Fleming in the early 1960s, so…four hundred years ago, give or take. It’s set around then as well and, unlike Fleming’s other stories, hasn’t been updated with the times. The history is kind of vital to the plot, for this one.”

“Vital? In what way?” Garak asked curiously, looking at least partially interested in the game, even if the rest of his attention was more on what Julian was wearing. He’d apparently chosen well.

Julian took a breath. “For most of the second half of the twentieth century, Earth was engaged in a cold war between two powerful nation-states. The Soviet Union and the…well, mostly the United States, but most of Europe, a fair bit of Asia and South America got involved as well. On both sides. Both sides knew that an all-out war would mean the annihilation of pretty much everything on the planet, so they tended to work through proxies and spies for the most part. The early James Bond stories used this as a backdrop, mostly but for this story it’s actually integral to the plot, as the two lead characters are from different sides of the Cold War. Illya Kuryakin, a Soviet agent, and Napoleon Solo, an American.”

“And what exactly was this war about? The climate?”

Julian shrugged, “Officially, political ideology, unofficially…probably power, control of as much of the globe as possible. And a bit of ideology. America and much of western Europe operated under a capitalist system, whereas the Soviets…at least claimed to have something a bit more like the modern Federation. Except backed up with the threat of horrifying prison camps, mass executions and torture. Oh, and quite a lot of corruption because this was pre-replicator technology and so the ‘sharing out’ of scarce resources tended to favour the ruling elite. It’s actually what led to-” What led to the Eugenics Wars, which had put an end to the Cold War by bombing Washington and Moscow simultaneously, breaking their power and establishing a new player on the board.

Garak raised a brow-ridge at Julian’s half sentence, but appeared to decide not to press him to finish it, “So a Federation that admits to what it is. Admittedly, perhaps a bit harsher in its methods than what would be done nowadays, I’m sure.”

“I like to think we’ve moved beyond that,” Julian said stiffly, and moved on before he could dwell on it any longer. “Either way. The story we’re going to play through is set in 1963, when two agents, one from each side of the Cold War, are forced to work together to solve a problem that affects both their governments. They then get assigned together permanently in an international taskforce intended to help keep their governments from destroying each other and the whole world with them.”

Garak blinked, “Rather a lot to put onto the shoulders of two agents.”

Julian shrugged, “Most adaptations agree it was largely a political gesture. And a way of avoiding any appearance of partisanship on either side, as the two of them would both naturally look out for the interests of their own side and, hopefully, keep each other honest. If you had two agents from either side, they could be accused of advancing their own interests at the expense of the other side, which would lead to an increase in tensions and possibly eventual war. And that’s leaving aside how many maniacal private citizens with access to advanced technology and an insatiable desire to destroy the world for their own profit seem to crop up in these things.”

“And these agents did not kill each other? I hardly see how one master liar could keep another honest.”

Julian smiled, as wickedly as he could manage. “Neither of them wanted the world to be blown up?” he suggested idly. “Also, in every single adaptation there has ever been, they’re at least close friends, and sometimes more.”

Garak snorted, “And their agencies allowed this? Well, you did say this was fictional…”

“In most versions, they go to a great deal of trouble to make sure their agencies don’t know. Same-sex entanglements were illegal in both the Soviet Union and the West during this period, even if they weren’t enemy agents. There are a fair few versions of the story where it ends pretty tragically, even if they aren’t my favourite - the real world’s miserable enough without inevitable defeat in the holosuite as well.”

“I don’t quite understand humanity’s struggle in accepting same-sex liaisons. There’s not even a chance for bastards in that case, just who does it harm?”

Julian shrugged, “Not my area. I think it was mostly religious, but I’d have to look it up. So…” he grinned, “You’ve got a choice of two characters - which side of the Iron Curtain do you want?”

Garak gave him a wry smile, “Which side do you think, my dear doctor? Though, tell me more about the agents themselves, what are their…basic personality traits?”

“…that is the most complicated question in the whole game,” Julian admitted. “They’ve been changed so often over the centuries it’s pretty much a free-for-all. Some bits of backstory have stuck around, though. Um…Solo, the American agent, is a former art thief on a very, very short leash. Got captured by the CIA and decided working for them was a step up from a decade in prison. His actual personality changes a lot between adaptations, though, as do his skills. And since the holosuite version lets you choose between quite a few different options there, it’s not really relevant. The other, one, Kuryakin…” he paused, trying to remember. “Born to a high-ranking member of the Soviet government who got convicted of treason and sent to the gulags - prison camps - after which his mother turned to prostitution to survive. He…varies even more than Solo, honestly. Sometimes to the point of being barely recognisable as the same character.”

“Why keep the names if you’re just going to change the core of the characters…” Garak sighed and shook his head, “I’ll pick Kuryakin. I have a feeling you like Solo more, being from the insufferably idealist State?”

“…what part of ‘capitalist’ says ‘idealistic’? Ideologically, I probably have more in common with the other side.” Julian sighed. “But, yes, I like him.”

“Perhaps not the correct word, agreed. Though I didn’t think you’d ever want to be part of a State that had prison camps, no matter how illusory the setting may be.”

Julian nodded. They were coming up to Quark’s now, the promenade still quietly busy with evening traffic. Quark himself was at the bar when they entered, and Garak smiled, wide and slightly predatory. He turned to Julian and wordlessly asked for his hand, which Julian gave with some bemusement. Garak brought it to his throat, or rather, just below it and held Julian’s hand there for a moment before saying, “If you’ll excuse me a moment?”

Garak disappeared off towards the bar, and Julian watched him go, feeling for a moment oddly giddy. Get a grip, he reminded himself. You’re an adult, act like one. But he was almost bubbling over with excitement now, even as he watched Quark’s expression freeze at the sight of Garak. He was too far away to hear what they were saying, but he got the impression that the conversation was going all Garak’s way.

He craned his neck to try and get a better look, but before he did, Garak smiled, wide and apparently friendly, and stepped away, turning back towards Julian and snaking through the crowds to take his arm.

“Well?” he said. “Shall we, doctor?” and nodded towards the door through to the holosuites.

After choosing their characters on the panel before entering, Julian and he went different directions, to receive their briefings from their superiors. The entire situation was…remarkably close to reality, though he wouldn’t ever admit as much to Julian. Certainly not so soon after his recent visit to the infirmary. The moment his superior started speaking, his back straightened and he had his full attention on the slides as the information and his mission parameters were given.

“-the woman is, in and of herself, unimportant, but the information she holds cannot be allowed to fall into American hands,” his superior was saying. “Bring her back. Alive, if possible, but if not…we will understand. As for your opposite number-”

The slides clicked on. Julian’s face filled the screen. It was, Regnar had to admit, a clever bit of programming - Julian in some sort of military uniform of this century, smiling the familiar sweet foolish smile Regnar had got to know over so many lunches.

“-not typical of American spies,” his superior went on. “Indeed, he barely deserves the title. Less an agent than a useful tool. He joined the army at eighteen and was posted to Europe. When the war ended, he stayed on as part of the occupying forces, and soon discovered that there were vast profits to be made on the post-war black market. He seems to have dealt primarily in art and antiquities, stolen by Nazi forces and then by the Allied occupiers. He seems entirely self-taught, but do not underestimate him. His criminal ingenuity made headlines all over Europe. The police of four countries created a special task force for the sole purpose of bringing him to justice. And even then, it seems to have been pure luck that they caught him. His talents came to the attention of the CIA, who recognised that-” the next slide was put in upside-down, making his superior glare at the unfortunate projectionist, who apologised in a shaking voice. That one would be bound for the labour camps before long, Regnar thought.

“-who recognised,” his superior went on, “That this man’s extraordinary talents would be wasted behind bars. A deal was struck. Since then, Bashir has been their most successful and prolific agent. Kill him if necessary. But he must not leave Berlin with the woman.”

“Yes, sir.” Regnar replied promptly.

His superior nodded. “And, Agent Garak-”

He paused. His mind reeled and he barely resisted the urge to shake his head. Had he just- yes, yes he had, and he hadn’t even meant to… Garak’s posture changed just a bit and he turned his head to hear what the holo-superior was saying.

“-you know the consequences of failure.”

Oh, he most certainly did. “Yes, sir.”

Garak was escorted to retrieve the weapons available to him for the mission. They were all rather primitive, projectile weapons were practically primeval. They also gave him information on where he was going, which Garak was sure wouldn’t have occurred if he were really of this time period, as he’d have been expected to keep up on the state of affairs on his own. He was rather grateful for this further proof of fallacy. The city was cut in half, not for geographical reasons but political. How this was sustainable, Garak didn’t know. The basics of his mission were preventing one person from going from one half of the city to the other. Easy enough, especially with a wall as an obvious indicator of where that line was. Yes, Garak believed this could be a fun game, so long as he remembered it was a game.

Scene-transitions, in the holosuite, were always a bit unrealistic. In this case, Garak stepped out of a building in what he had been assured was Moscow, and into-

The city was grey. As grey as Romulus, almost, and Garak did not say that lightly. Grey and brown and brick and concrete and looked as if it had been levelled and rebuilt from the ground up at some point in the recent past. It was, put simply, the single least glamorous location Garak could imagine. Apparently Julian’s description of the subtypes of the spy genre had been rather more broad-strokes than he had made it sound.

There was a car waiting, and Garak knew this was the least glorious part of spy-craft, the waiting. Garak was exceedingly patient, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it. Thankfully, he had to have his whole attention on the people passing from one side of the checkpoint to the other, looking for Julian. When he finally spotted him, Garak had to suppress a smile, he looked even more naive and ripe for the picking than when Garak first laid eyes on him. It was surprisingly difficult to resist the urge to recreate that first meeting, the game’s plotline be damned.

Following Julian from a safe distance was simple, though the man was doing actually quite well in covering his tracks. Not enough to throw Garak off his trail, even if Garak hadn’t already been intimately familiar with his appearance, but enough to give him the impression that Julian had some real potential. Potential that only needed a bit of guidance…. Guidance Garak was only too happy to provide, and which seemed to have been paying off, since Julian managed to actually lose him. For a brief moment. The pride that caused him was a bit staggering and he pushed it down and away for the time being.

Julian’s final destination, it turned out, was a shabby little garage in what seemed to be an even-poorer-than-the-rest-of-it area of the city. He disappeared inside, and Garak hung back, and flicked on the rather neat little bug that he’d been informed that border control would endeavour to secret in Julian’s luggage. It buzzed into life without so much as a flicker, and Garak smirked. Julian had potential, yes…but only potential.

“-and a fat little dog named Schnitzel,” Julian’s voice said, coming out sharp and crackly. Garak stared, and wondered for one mad moment if Julian had actually worked out a code so completely bizarre Garak couldn’t work out what was a euphemism. The accent didn’t help - whoever had told Julian he could imitate accents ought to be shot. “All you need to do is sit down for fifteen minutes with my employers and answer a few questions as fully and as factually as you can. I think we both know it’s a step up from spending the evening with the Russians, hanging from a pipe having your toenails removed.”

Garak couldn’t resist the affronted look he gave the receiver at that, he’d be having a few words with Julian over that once this was all over. The day he needed to resort to such methods as ripping out toenails was the day he retired.

There was the start of another sentence, a woman’s voice. “And your superiors? How will they-” And then the reception cut off with a wet sort of noise, and Garak scowled. Had no-one in this insufferably backwards city thought to invent waterproof bugs yet? With a huff, he lightly tossed the now useless receiver onto the passenger seat and returned his attention to the garage. Not long after, a car left it with only the driver in view. Garak was not to be deterred, and started following them in his own. Twentieth-century automobiles were not, he decided, his favourite means of pursuit. Julian and his contact’s car, though, was going at what seemed to be an ordinary, civilised pace - trying to bluff him into thinking this was just an ordinary night driver? - and it should not take him long to draw level, except that every time he got close, they put on another little kick of speed. Nothing excessive, just enough to stay just out of his range. He considered for a moment, stopped, opened the window, leant out, and took aim at the car’s back tyre. The car skidded, half-spinning, and then-

Put on another, absurd, kick of speed. Limping, yes, half-dragging…but slowed. Slowed and obvious. Hmm. There was a small booth across the street, with an old-fashioned telephone inside it. He stepped inside, and called the police.

“Hello?” he said, using his very best ‘mild and harmless tailor’ voice. “Yes. I’d like to report a kidnapping.” He went on to report, sounding as worried as he could, the terrified, screaming child he’d seen bundled into the back of a black-and-white Trabant car with the right back tyre flat, and hung up feeling quite satisfied with himself. Julian would probably not be best-pleased by the nature of the accusations, but he was the one who brought a genuine Obsidian Order agent into a spy game. Really, it was all his own fault.

It wasn’t difficult, either, to hastily rejigger the receiver to pick up on the local police radio, as reports came in of the black-and-white Trabant being spotted, and soon enough, Garak had a location. He called up the map in his head once again - where could they be going, if their route had taken them there? And then, all at once, he had them.

Figuring that in this case the advantage really did lie with the higher ground, Garak infiltrated a building near the Wall, and made his way up to the roof. He allowed himself a sigh, yet more waiting. It took a few minutes - how long was this part of the programme meant to be? But then, on the next roof over, he saw movement. Julian, and a young woman in khaki-coloured coveralls that did absolutely nothing for her. His quarry. He took aim, but Julian’s body was between him and the woman, and he couldn’t get a clear shot at her. Julian was fidgeting with- No. Flashing a light across the wall. A signal. Garak peered through the scope of the rifle, trying to work out what the plan was. And then- something shot across, from the far side of the wall. A cable, or…yes, a cable. Garak grinned to himself. Oh, surely not. Far, far too simple. Julian offered his hand to the woman, grasped something attached to the cable, and jumped.

He was perhaps halfway across when Garak fired, and the woman in Julian’s arms slumped against him, her head lolling, her grip on him going slack. She fell.

Garak drew back, a faint, satisfied smile on his face, and began matter-of-factly taking the rifle apart. Well. That was the end of that. Julian would probably sulk at being beaten, but Garak was quite sure he could find something to cheer him up. Although, he was rather at a loss to see how this could possibly have ended with their characters becoming friends. He could hear Julian’s shocked shout as he left the roof to begin making his way back to his car, but as he opened the door leading to the street, he found himself back in the KGB base. He sighed, he hated holo-scene transitions.

“Agent Garak.” It was his superior again, the same one as before. His handler. “Report.”

“There was no avoiding the target getting across the wall, so I shot them. The American, however, got away.”

His superior nodded. “I heard. His superiors approached us recently.” He smiled tightly, and it did not reach his eyes. “However, this does complicate the situation somewhat. I thought I said alive, if possible.”

“You did. It wasn’t possible.”

His superior glared. It was rather a pathetic glare, as glares went. The memory of Tain’s smile frightened Garak more than this illusion would in a fury. “The most dangerous secret is already out,” he said. “She might be dead, but she didn’t die before telling Bashir the thing we least wanted the Americans to know. The theft of the prototype plans for the next generation of weaponry, the thing which might shift the balance of power decisively in our favour.”

“Next generation of weaponry…sir?” Garak forced himself to add the ‘sir’, wouldn’t do to be perceived as disrespectful or unable to follow orders.

“You don’t need to know what it is, Garak,” his superior said shortly. “But we need to recover those plans, and the Americans are the only ones who know who she sold them to.”

“Does this mean we’re going to have to cooperate with them? It’s very unlikely that is going to work out well.”

“It will work out as we intend it. They’ve put forward a single agent, who will bear witness to the tragic destruction of the plans before either of you can get your hands on them.You will recover those plans, while making it seem to the Americans that they are lost. If they even begin to suspect what those plans are for…” his superior stopped himself. Even that was sloppy - no-one in the Order would even begin to reveal something unless they intended the person they were speaking to to know it. “Well. What happens next will no longer be your concern. They receive very little news in the gulags, I am told.”

“Of course, sir.” Garak almost rolled his eyes, but stopped himself. “And should the American learn things he shouldn’t?”

“You will have received no formal orders to kill him. His tragic accidental death would be…regrettable…but these things happen.”

“I see. Anything else, sir?”

“Walk with me. A meeting has been set up. Best to give the Americans no reason to doubt our good intentions.”

They walked through a doorway, and suddenly he could smell the waterside. Yet another horrible transition. There were tables all along the deck, overlooking the river. Julian was sitting at one, with what Garak assumed was the man’s own handler. Neither of them looked especially pleased to be there.

“Saunders,” his own superior said curtly.

Garak took a seat directly across from Julian, who was glaring at him with a rather adorable pout. Garak let some of his amusement slip through for a moment before schooling his features.

“Vassilyovich. God, your name is a mouthful. Can’t say that curtly at all. How do you take it?”

Garak’s superior smiled, mirthlessly. “It’s my cross to bear. You’ve briefed your…agent…I take it.” He drew out the word ‘agent’, so that Garak could hear the suggestion of something else underneath it, and though he too had been thinking that Julian would never last long in intelligence, he wanted to bristle regardless.

“Oh, he knows what he needs to.” Saunders waved a hand, and Julian looked as if he bit back a sigh. “Just point him in the right direction.”

“We intend to. Now. Your half of the bargain.”

“You’re impatient. I was enjoying a nice drink, I thought we could take in the scenery. Alright, have it your way. Target’s a former member of the British Union of Fascists, arms magnate, noted collector of antiquities. Name of Sir Arthur Galt. Now, your turn?”

Vassilyovich shifted. “What you’re looking for is a disc. Blue plastic, small enough to hold in your hand. Destroy it if you have to, but it cannot be allowed to remain in Galt’s hands.”

Garak nodded and the handlers exchanged a look before standing. Julian was still glaring at him. “We’ll leave you to get acquainted.” Saunders said with a smug smile, “Play nice.” Saunders clapped Julian on his shoulder as he passed him, causing Julian to flinch slightly. Garak’s eyes followed the handler with cold fury, then widened a little as every other group of diners in the cafe stood and walked out.

“Well,” Garak said brightly, as the last of them left. “This isn’t conspicuous in the least.”

Julian glared at him. “I can’t believe you killed her!”

Garak raised his hands up in defence, “I was ordered to! What was I supposed to do, let you take her across the wall and disobey orders? Forgive me if I’m wrong, but isn’t carrying out a mission the point of this game?”

“You could have,” Julian pointed out stubbornly, “It’s a holosuite, they can’t do anything to you if you don’t obey orders. Besides, that wasn’t the mission. That was…a trial run. To get us used to the setting and how the game works before the main plot gets started. I mean, if all we’re going to do is follow orders, we might as well ‘kill’ each other here and now. I know my superiors want me to kill you, and I can guess yours want you to kill me. Does that mean you’re going to?”

“You got orders to kill me? Well that’s unfair, I wasn’t given permission to. Now if you have an accident that’s another story.”

Julian rolled his eyes. “I obviously wasn’t going to!”

“Why not? I killed your informant.” Garak looked around them and waved with an arm, “This is, after all, a holosuite. It won’t actually do anything. At least, it won’t so long as the safeties are on.”

“Yes, but…well.” Julian smiled, wide and bright and startling, “I am trying to get you to agree to another date at the end of the evening. Killing you probably wouldn’t do much for my chances.”

Garak fought the smile that wanted to break through, and instead changed the subject, “My dear- could you please stop talking in that accent. I just, cannot take anything you say seriously.”

Julian actually looked slightly disappointed at that. “If you’re sure,” he said, thankfully without the accent. “I thought I carried it off rather well.”

“I’m not sure who told you that, but they were lying to make you feel better, it is awful.” Garak sniffed and offered a small smile to take some of the sting of his words out.

“We’re supposed to be going to Venice, next,” Julian offered, and smiled again, brighter still, “It’s half of why I suggested this game - Venice is supposed to be one of the most beautiful cities on Earth. I thought you’d like to see it.”

“And then probably destroy half of it in our attempts to save the world - you have a curious notion of how to appreciate a place.”

“We don’t have to destroy it,” Julian said, shaking his head, “It just…tends to happen, in these sorts of stories.”

“Of course. By the way…what in the world were you talking about earlier, with the dog?”

Julian groaned and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “You heard that?”

“My dear, of course I heard it. You were bugged, I was supposed to be hearing you. Until you shorted it, which, no water-proof bugs? Really? How low tech is this?”

“Fairly - electricity has been used for…maybe a century, at the outside? The technology’s all still fairly basic.”

Garak put his hands on the table and leaned a bit closer, “So, since you were so upset I shot my target, how was it supposed to play out, in a general run-through?”

Julian shrugged, and Garak felt…was that a foot? Yes, he thought it was…hook itself around his ankle, under his trousers and just above the top of his shoe, warm toes digging into his calf. “I was expecting a much more direct pursuit,” he admitted, “I wasn’t reckoning on you somehow working out where we were going ahead of time, which - actually, how did you work that out?”

That foot was going to be distracting, but Garak would not let Julian cause him to trip over his own tongue. “I memorized the city layout, and there were only so many places where the wall was weak, after following you and gauging your general direction, I picked the most probable that you’d take. Then it was just a matter of slowing you down so I could get there first.”

“…that does explain the police cars,” Julian said, sounding slightly dazed. Those toes flexed against Garak’s leg, and then the foot slid down, pushing at the back of Garak’s shoe as if trying to coax it off his foot. “I never had a chance, did I?”

“Not remotely.” Garak replied, his eyes staring intently at Julian. “You ought to know better than to underestimate me, my dear Julian.” Without changing his expression, Garak slipped the foot Julian had been trying to get at out of his shoe and snagged Julian’s foot with his toe-claws.

Julian made quite an appealing soft sound in his throat at that, and Garak suppressed a grin.

“I suppose I should,” Julian agreed, “Though it’ll be interesting to see how this re-shapes the plot. Traditionally, one of us used her to get at the villain of the piece - Sir Arthur Galt, I suppose. This time we’re going to have to work out another way.” He twisted his foot in Garak’s grip, brushing his toes against the underside of Garak’s foot.

Garak’s hands clawed lightly at the table, though he didn’t take his eyes off Julian’s. “Playing this by ear, are we? Be the invisible man, beneath the notice of the target to get right where you need to be to hear everything?”

Julian tapped a finger against his mouth, considering - or pretending to consider. “Well. We could do that. But this is a holosuite. And a game. And there’s at least a bit of martini in this story…we might as well enjoy it.”

“I have yet to see a martini. In fact, I’m getting rather parched.”

Julian raised his eyebrows. “Well, we can’t have that. Computer? Two martinis, please.”

Two long-stemmed, triangular glasses garnished with strange round greenish fruit shimmered into view.

Julian gave an apologetic smile, “Not quite the same as the real thing, but it should stave it off a little longer. Anyway, like I was saying…this is a game. We don’t have to do what would be the sane or the sensible or the realistic thing. That’s the point of the holosuites - to do things you’ve never tried before, or would never dare in real life, like-”

“Like ziplining over an active minefield with someone shooting at you?” Garak suggested dryly.

Julian smiled, small and slightly sly. “Exactly like that.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t want to hit you.” Garak said as he grabbed one of the glasses, giving it a sniff before trying a sip. It wasn’t as good as kanar, but it wasn’t as bad as what Quark had on stock. The flavour was still lacking, as all holofoods were.

“The safeties are on,” Julian reminded him, “The bullet brushed right past me. But the point is- is that we could do this the sneaky, sensible way, or we could do it ostentatiously, ridiculously and with absolutely no self-restraint without any risk to ourselves. Besides.” His smile widened, became faintly predatory, and he wriggled his toes again against Garak’s foot. “I rather want to know what you make of the death-trap.”

Garak kept eye contact as he drained his martini glass and licked his lips to get the last of the drops of alcohol. If they were going to continue playing this game, then he needed to stop playing the other one…so he let go of Julian’s foot after he gave it a final squeeze. “Alright, I’m curious…what death-trap?”

“There’s always a death-trap,” Julian said, with the certainty of a man declaring the sky was blue. “The hero - well, one of them - always ends up getting put in it, the villain always leaves before they’re actually dead, and they are always so over complicated and take so long that the hero inevitably escapes anyway. It’s the single stupidest literary convention ever invented by humankind.” For someone talking about their world’s stupidest literary convention, Garak thought, Julian sounded surprisingly gleeful.

“I’m glad you realize just how ridiculous that sounded, and accept it.” Garak said wryly, tilting his head to look at Julian from under his ridges.

“Of course it’s ridiculous,” Julian said, “That’s half the fun.”

“Mm, debatable. But, we’ll see.”

Julian raised his eyebrows. “Oh, so you have absolutely no interest in seeing me tied up and dangling over a tank of crocodiles?” he said in a low, purring voice that was as put-on as the accent from before had been, but rather less objectionable. “Completely helpless, bound, entirely at your mercy…”

“Not if I’m not the one who put you there.” Garak replied, “Though you paint a very…tempting…picture.”

Julian grinned. “I’ll add that to the list of future date suggestions,” he said blithely, “We could make it an actual competition - you play the villain and I play the hero and see who comes out on top?”

Garak’s smile was slow and positively devilish, “Enchanting idea, though I think it’ll always end the same… And I’m not one to beg for mercy.”

“Is this entire city floating on the water?” Garak asked, sounding almost breathless as he leaned out of the boat to watch the Grand Canal going by.

Julian laughed, and lent against the bow beside him. “It’s built on a chain of islands,” he said, “It’s mostly held up by anti-gravity, these days - it was sinking for centuries before that.” He didn’t need to ask ‘what do you think’. For once, Garak’s face was entirely readable, and alight with something like bliss.

“I would love to see it now, if this is it sinking.”

Julian swallowed a ‘maybe you will’. It was a very long way from a certainty that Garak would ever be able to, with the way things were tending on Earth right now. “Most of the city’s remained about the same for centuries,” he said instead, “The historic centre has, anyway. I’ve never actually been to the real place, but I’ve heard about it.”

Garak looked back at him for only a moment, but that moment conveyed without words his severe disappointment, “That is a crime. You were on the same planet as this place for how many years, and you never went?”

“I went to other places!” Julian said defensively. “Some of them…about as beautiful. I nearly lived in Paris, and it’s about as famous for beauty as Venice is. Just…not quite the same way.”

“Until I see this Paris, I shall continue to judge you.”

“Next time,” Julian promised, recklessly. “Or- There’s Spain. The Alhambra. I saw that on a school trip once. Or…or Cairo.”

“Cairo?” Garak asked curiously, eyes not on Julian as he was still taking in everything around them.

“I was born there,” Julian said simply. “My parents moved away when I was…pretty young…but I still remember parts of it.” He forced a smile, and added, “And it might be a more accommodating climate for you than Paris or London.”

Garak’s attention had flicked back to him and stayed there, and the Cardassian was quiet a moment. “If this temperature is accurate, then Venice is very similar to Cardassia’s winter.” Garak smiled, “Winter is the best time of year, you know.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Julian looked around, “We’re nearly there,” he added, “St Mark’s Square - come on.”

True to his word, the boat - an old-fashioned speedboat, not one of the glossy black gondolas drifting serenely down the canal - drew to a stop just minutes later, and Julian clambered out, doing his best not to slip and slide and horribly aware that he wasn’t succeeding.

Garak had an insufferable smile as he watched Julian flounder, but thankfully said nothing. “Where to next, Agent Bashir?”

“The hotel first - then, there’s this.” He produced something from out of his jacket with a flourish that he would never admit to having practiced. “My superiors have a contact who managed to wrangle an invitation for one…Julius Eaton, plus guest. Apparently Mr Eaton is a dealer in antiquities, and Galt has a passion for those.” The alias wasn’t what he’d have gone for - Julius was just a hair too close to ‘Jules’ - but objecting now would draw attention to it, and that was the last thing he wanted.

“Do you have my alias as well, or shall I be creative?”

“Nothing hard-and-fast,” Julian admitted, “If your superiors didn’t provide you with one, I’d say you have the choice.”

“Hmm. What is my character’s name supposed to be, again?”

“Illya Kuryakin,” Julian replied, slightly taken aback. “Though, this is the middle of the Cold War, a Russian name might just cause more trouble.”

Garak gave him a wide-eyed look. “I thought you wanted me to take risks, Mr Eaton?”

“I do. All right, then, Mr Kuryakin, shall we go? It’s all on foot from here, but it shouldn’t take too long.”

Waving one arm, Garak motioned for him to lead the way, “After you.”

Their hotel was, according to the travel documents that had manifested themselves during the scene change, on the Grand Canal itself, an old red building that had probably been a palazzo at some point. It was also almost offensively beautiful, with a view that even made Garak stop bitching under his breath about the utter tastelessness of mid-twentieth-century human decor.

“Should I just pause the game and let you stare for the rest of the programme?” he teased, coming up behind Garak.

“No…” Garak turned to face him with a wicked smile and looked Julian up and down, “There are other beautiful things to look at.”

Julian snorted, “And you have the nerve to criticise my lines?”

Garak’s expression turned innocent, “We’ve only seen part of the city, surely there’s more to it?”

“Definitely, I just don’t know how much the makers of the programme thought players would want to explore.” Julian leant a little against the window-frame, watching Garak as much as the canal outside. “If you like we could go and-” Find out, he had meant to say, but he wasn’t given the chance. Garak’s mouth was on his, Garak pressing him up against the window-frame and making it very difficult to concentrate on suspected Soviet weapons or the end of this whole little holographic world.

Hands snaked their way up his sides and behind his back, pressing him even further into the Cardassian’s chest. Garak’s mouth was cool, and tasted not quite like a human’s, no trace of the holographic martini he’d had earlier lingering on his lips or his tongue. His hands were cool too, even through Julian’s shirt, and when they finally broke apart, Garak’s forehead, bumps and ridges and spoon and all, fell against Julian’s and stayed there.

“I knew you’d be warm, my dear, but I didn’t think you’d run this hot.” Garak murmured, his breath ghosting over Julian’s face, “I dare say it’s going to be…very difficult to let go of you.”

Julian kissed him again, to avoid having to reply, and clung on, pulling Garak closer against him. The fork of Garak’s tongue felt strange against his own, and he could feel rough scaling as he slid a hand up and under Garak’s tunic. Just as Julian was losing himself in Garak, there was a chirp from the computer, and that was all the warning either of them got before the holosuite turned off, and suddenly there was nothing at his back.

With the wall no longer supporting their weight, Julian fell back, Garak right on top of him. Julian let out a grunt as he hit the deck’s floor, and the wind was knocked out of him as Garak’s weight crushed into his chest. This was not how he had been expecting to become breathless.

“Time’s up!” the call came from outside, “I’ve got other customers waiting, y’know!”

Garak shifted on top of him, just enough to look over his shoulder and glare at the Ferengi. Julian couldn’t see Garak’s face, but he did see half of Quark’s as the man nearly yelped and scurried off.

“Garak?” he managed to gasp out, “-can’t breathe-”

Garak’s head snapped back to him, surprised concern written all over his face, “My apologies, my dear!�� He put his hands to either side of Julian’s shoulders and lifted himself up, so all his weight was now on his knees and hands and thankfully off of Julian.

“…thanks,” Julian managed, and dragged himself to his feet, tugging Garak up after him with maybe a little more strength than a baseline human should be able to muster. “I suppose we should go,” he added, “Er…” He didn’t especially want the evening to be over yet. “Would you like a drink? A real one? Holograms don’t really help, even if it feels like it. And I’d be interested to hear what you thought of the game.”

The smile Garak gave him would have been answer enough, but Julian was still glad when Garak leaned closer until their noses almost touched and said, “That sounds delightful…”

And then, of course, Julian had to kiss him again, and they were quite happily occupied right up until the sound of something metallic hitting the ground jolted them back to reality. Julian looked around.

“…oh,” he said, in a strangled voice. “Um. Hello, Chief. We were just…uh…”

“On our way out.” Garak finished for him, giving his usual respectful bow to the chief. “Pardon us.”

Miles looked so disturbed it was almost comical, but nodded gruffly and moved aside to let them through, carefully avoiding Julian’s eyes. Julian smiled and sort of shrugged as he followed Garak out, the door of the holosuite sliding shut behind him as he heard the opening chords of the Flying Aces World War Two holoprogramme filtering out into the corridor.

“Drinks?” Garak asked and Julian snapped back to where he was, with Garak’s expectant gaze boring into him.

He paused, for a moment, and then caught Garak’s hand. “I’m starving,” he said, “Do you mind if we get dinner as well? I’ve heard good things about that Klingon place at the other end of the Promenade?”

“Loud, crowded, and boisterous? Are you sure that’s how you wish to spend your evening?”

“The Vulcan place at this end of the Promenade?” Julian suggested.

Garak gave him a look as if that were no better, “And be judged for our open emotionalism?” Garak’s gaze flicked down to where Julian still held his hand.

“The Celestial Cafe?” Julian tried.

With a sigh and a shake of his head, Garak looked like he was questioning Julian’s sanity. “My dear, you recall I am Cardassian? I don’t think they’ll take kindly to my being there.” Just as Julian was beginning to think Garak was just making excuses not to have dinner with him, Garak pulled Julian’s hand back up to the same place he’d put it before. “How about…my quarters? Guaranteed privacy, quiet, and minimal judgement.”

Julian smiled. “I’d like that.” One last remnant of his common sense flared up for a moment. “I have to pick Mila up from Jadzia’s quarters in an hour.”

Garak feigned a put upon look, “Oh, very well. We shall just have to rush through dinner then. One of these days, my dear doctor, you’re going to sit down for a full Cardassian meal.”

“And just what would that involve?” Julian asked.

“You’ll find out, though perhaps we’ll have to work on your table manners first.” Garak smirked widely at that.

Julian huffed. “There is nothing wrong with my table manners!”

“My dear, I have seen people flee from danger slower than you eat. You practically inhale food.”

“So?”

“So? It is terribly rude.”

Julian stared at him. “…you aren’t just saying that because you happen to dislike it, are you?”

“I’ll have you know, that on Cardassia to eat so quickly is extremely rude, as it is either a sign of starvation or disrespect to one’s host.”

Julian blinked. “Really? Where exactly did that idea come from? Mightn’t a person simply be busy? Or in a hurry for some other reason?”

“Would you like me to lecture on how exactly proper table manners are done, or shall we head to my quarters?”

“…your quarters, please,” Julian said, because contrary to popular belief he did have some idea of when to stop. “You can fill me in on the finer points once I’m there.”

Garak chuckled, “Of course, my dear, I did not assume otherwise.” He took Julian’s arm, in public, without any apparent thought for the damage to Julian’s reputation he’d claimed to be so concerned about during that desperate argument after Julian returned from the other universe, and the two of them set off back towards the habitat ring.

#mila verse #garashir #ds9 #star trek #my writing #thanks to the wonderful #thornfield13713 #for the help in writing this one #Trekkie in Training #Anonymous

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squishylotus · 7 years

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Distances Plot Pre-Draft

I thought you might find it funny to read the pre-draft for Distances. Basically, it’s plot points, dialogue bits, and notes to self. It’s step 2 of my writing process (which I can write about if you’re interested, let me know) I literally just copy-pasted it in so it has all the typos all the weird stuff, and the old order (I ended up changing a fair amount of stuff as I was writing) I knew it would end up being a longer fic than I had intended (I was aiming for about 7,000?) because just the plot is over 2,000 words long lol

Alright here we go!

Plot to the bokuaka story in your sketchbook that is literally fading away:

Akaashi CK bokuaka with background iwaoi and maybe matsuhana

Bokuto is at a resort in Hawaii with the Japanese Volleyball team following a difficult training camp Akaashi is the drop dead gorgeous guy that Bokuto gets a huge crush on They find out they live relatively close to each other back in Japan The volleyball team gets on Bokuto's case, particularly Oikawa but that's because he's deflecting

DAY 1 OF 8

Akaashi's stay is 2 weeks long, it's the beginning of his second week when the volleyball team arrives for their 1 week vacation (that Oikawa surprise booked for them as team captain) Bokuto first sees him at the beach when the team is at the beach bar after unpacking their suitcases He can't say shit, he just openly stares. Akaashi probably sees him but doesn't really think about it or make it obvious. Oikawa teases Bokuto plenty. He doesn't see him for the rest of the day

DAY 2 OF 8

Next he sees him at the pool. Akaashi is an excellent swimmer. Insert classic ladder scene at the foot of Bokuto's chair. He shakes his hair and some of the water lands on Bokuto and he mutters a quiet sorry before walking away and Bokuto is like. Oh. I. I gotta. I have to say something (but he cant yet lol) He pesters a few people around him and someone from the team gives him a line in spanish and like. they're in hawaii and he's p sure akaashi's shirt label was in Japanese but he's not creepy, okay? He's gonna make this work!

DAY 3 OF 8

They finally talk at breakfast the next day, Bokuto is a super early riser so he's usually the first one there but some guys from the team wanted to go for a run around the resort so he's there at more normal human hours today and there! he! is! Bokuto gets to use his line. Akaashi is flattered (he goes to resorts every year, knows a lil bit of spanish for it) They are at the breakfast buffet on either side of it, bond over a love of breakfast meats, share tips. Bokuto gets called over by his team who cant see that he's finally talking to his crush. Bokuto quickly says 'lets meet on the beach later!!' Akaashi smiles a small but powerful!! smile and goes with his plate to sit outside. Bokuto takes that as a yes, has to like fan himself for a minute before sitting with the team and telling them everything.

Akaashi goes to the beach, gets a drink and wanders around. He walks with his feet in the water away from the resort, and walks back when he realizes Bokuto won't be in that direction. Upon his return, he sees a group at the volleyball net, Bokuto included. He walks over calmly. They take off their overshirts to reveal matching volleyball jerseys for the Japanese national team (because theyre fuckin extra like that, and a few of them think it'll help them score. It probably does tbh) They want to play 6 on 6 but they're missing a setter (the entire team isnt here, just the people who wanted to come. People like Kageyama and Ushijima stayed behind to practice more, thinking this trip was a waste of time)

Makki is about to volunteer to do it when Akaashi (who approached without any of them noticing) speaks up. 'I'm a setter' or 'I can set' Bokuto is over the moon!!! The team is trying to be good about it but they clearly have doubts. They basically divide the team in who wants to be set to by Oikawa and who wants the challenge of someone they think won't be very good. (so like Yaku is playing as a wing spiker on Akaashi's side even though he's the libero because otherwise they'll still be one person short) They divide into shirts/skins and Bokuto wants to volunteer their side for skins because ulterior motives, but he's halfway through his exclamation and the other side is already stripped. They're doing this to make sure Akaashi is comfortable but Akaashi kind of just rolls his eyes (unseen by anyone but Bokuto, which signals to Bokuto that Akaashi is comfortable with his body, which is a good thing for Bokuto to know)

So of course Akaashi sets brilliantly. The surprise factor for the other side, along with how great Bokuto and Akaashi suddenly work together, is enough to make them win a set, and by then the other side is already getting a sunburn so they stop. Oikawa marches to the net and demands to know Akaashi's play history. Akaashi calmly states that he played for Shinzen and Bokuto went to Fukurodani? They're very impressed because it's hard to set for so many synchronized attacks. Akaashi is in the team's inner circle now basically. They invite him to join them for supper (to help Bokuto and his massive crush out especially)

Subplot Time!!

So far Oikawa has seemed pretty distracted except for when they were playing volleyball. He keeps looking around like he's searching for something or someone and it's driving the team nuts, more so than Bokuto's crushing. They finally corner him after he takes even longer than usual getting ready for supper. It turns out that Iwaizumi his childhood friend works at the resort and he's been trying to find him so they could be reunited! They talk on facebook back in Japan but Oikawa has his phone on airplane mode so he hasn't been able to contact him this whole time and he forgot to ask in what department Iwaizumi works, etc. He tells them to go on without him.

They all show up for supper looking pretty spiffy. Akaashi is already there ofc looking amazing. Fem-cut shirt, pants that look sort of like a skirt, all in black, very androgynous. Bokuto is possibly even more taken? They have a nice night with the team. Oikawa shows up late but with Iwaizumi in tow, causing a great ruckus. They all drink and laugh and have way too much to eat and most of the team goes dancing after but Bokuto only has eyes for Akaashi so they split from the group and head off to one of the bars on the resort to keep chatting.

(The chunk that goes here is still in your sketchbook)

Ok dont be chicken here it is:

They walk on the beach back to Akaashi's room. He invites Bokuto in. They do it with the lights on, very romantic. Akaashi is still stuffed, Bokuto too tbh. Akaashi is totally the type to have brought a toy in his suitcase so he is already ready for Bokuto from the night before while Bokuto litterally jamed 3 boxes of condoms in his suitcase and has a handful of fresh ones in his pocket lol Akaashi: did you think you'd get with lots of people? Bokuto, blushing probably: I only want to get with you tho (this is super cheesy but probably still totally happens lol) They're not even tipsy, they never were actually drunk, there is very clear consent (tag it enthusiastic consent)

DAY 4 OF 8

The next morning, they have sex again. V nice, all soft, glowing in the sunrise (leave me alone) Bokuto lost his shirt somewhere between the bar and the room (he finds it later with the team, it's hilarious) so he borrows one of Akaashi's. (also later, Akaashi tries on the national jersey and looks great in it, it fits like a crop top)

They hang out with the team, Akaashi makes friends, the iwaoi subplot continues in the background. They play pool games. Akaashi doesnt think Bokuto can lift him on his shoulders but he totally can, although they get toppled almost immediately. They go dancing with the team and Iwaizumi that night. OFC Akaashi can dance really well lol Iwaizumi attemps to infuse Oikawa with some semblance of rhythm. Some spotlight on the few straight players lol Halfway through, Mattsun shows up, he's working at the discotheque that night. Makki: *lands eyes on him* *mouth hangs open as Mattsun walks away* *to iwaizumi* Is he?? Can I?? *wild hand motions*Iwaizumi: nods, laughs out a yeah as Makki rushes in Mattsun's direction, disappearing in the crowd. Akaashi walks with the group until they get to his building and he kisses Bokuto goodbye. Bokuto is too smitten to mind that they won't sleep together.

DAY 5 OF 8

Akaashi is a little bit like a cat and at first Bokuto is dejected about it, but the team pulls him out of it. He's worried he won't see him again now that they've had sex but it's not the impression he had of Akaashi. They can't text because of their phone plans and he looks around for him but can't find him. They meet up around supper and it turns out that Akaashi was at the spa all day. He really is sorry for forgetting to tell Bokuto about it the day before. They have supper separately from everyone else and talk about personal habits and needs and it goes really well. Bokuto invites him up to his room then remembers that it's a mess, but it doesn't matter. (this is when Akaashi tries on the jersey)

DAY 6 OF 8

This is the last day of any vacation that truly feels like a vacation tbh

It's the time where everyone thinks ok, what's the things I said I would do that I haven't done yet? They probably go on a fieldtrip, Akaashi to a local art place or something, they venture off-resort.

DAY 7 OF 8

It's Saturday, Iwaizumi has the day off, this is the peak of the iwaoi subplot. Deal with the MatsuHana subplot too, maybe. Start thinking about the return, about volleyball, about the rest of the team in Japan. Bokuto and Akaashi spend some time together, some time apart. Bokuto gets an earful of the iwaoi subplot from Oikawa. Maybe gives advice? Who knows.

This is also the day to insert sunset sex on the beach lol Akaashi is still mostly clothed. They almost get spotted but it's dusk, theyre backlit and the guard thinks it's just a rock or something. They lay there really still and burd out laughing once he walks away.

DAY 8 OF 8

The day goes as a last day goes, last swim, getting ready, having to leave the room, waiting with your luggage and a final drink. Akaashi is on the same bus to the airport as the team, but not the same plane seeing as he is with a different airline (definitely in first class tho) Iwaoi goodbyes, bokuaka goodbyes (exchanging numbers and addresses) Makki doesn't think Mattsun will come but it turns out he overslept, he rushes in at the last minute and lifts Makki off the ground. Bokuto and Akaashi kiss one last time before Bokuto has to cross the gate.

Flash forward to the Olympic qualifiers, Team Japan kicking ass, Akaashi cheering uncharacteristically loudly, Bokuto looking up from the court with love in his eyes. Akaashi sticking around after the win to give Bokuto a few tosses before they go celebrate with the team.

#resort au #im not tagging this with more stuff because i dont want just anyone to see this but it's ok to reblog if you want to

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