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pixelberry-choices-blog · 5 years

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A Risk Worth Taking

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Open Heart)

Description: Jenna and Ethan may work together again, but that doesn’t keep him from avoiding her. Alternatively, Ethan and Jenna argue in a closet. Angsty at first but I promise it gets fluffy! MC name is Jenna Clark.

Rating: Teen (swearing, kissing, references to sex)

Word Count: 1860

A/N: I’ve been writing fic for a while but this is the first one I’ve had the energy to publish, so go easy on me. Feel free to comment and/or let me know if you want to be tagged in future fics!

It had been one week since Dr. Jenna Clark’s whirlwind appointment to the diagnostics team, and Ethan was driving her crazy.

He’d barely so much as glanced at her since that dramatic morning after her ethics hearing, despite having slept with her the night before it. She couldn’t help but feel a little hurt; he could have at least sent her a text, something, anything, to show he still cared. She struggled to keep her face emotionless in his presence; the last thing she needed was some curious co-worker asking her why she was angry at Ethan. Elijah and Sienna were bad enough; they kept giving her and Ethan nervous glances whenever they saw Jenna and him together. Jenna loved her roommates, but subtlety had never been their strong suit.

She kept searching for a way to talk to Ethan, to clear the air between them, but they never seemed to find the right moment. His distant behavior at work discouraged her from attempting to see him at his apartment, and at the hospital, they were constantly surrounded by patients and nurses and interns and attendings, a never-ending tide of people demanding their attention. Perhaps she could have asked him for a private word in his office, but she had a hunch that several people, including ex-Chief Emery, had their suspicions about the two of them, and she was reluctant to add any fuel to the rumors.

So two weeks later, when she found Ethan reading a chart in an empty hallway miraculously devoid of prying onlookers, she seized the opportunity. Jenna grabbed his arm, pulling him into a closet nearby and ignoring his sputtered protests as he dropped the chart he was reading. As soon as the door shut behind them, she realized her slight miscalculation. What she’d thought was a spacious supply closet turned out to be a tiny, dark broom closet barely two feet wide. There was barely six inches of space between her and Ethan, and she could feel a mop handle digging into her spine.

“Jenna, what the hell are you doing?” It was pitch black, but she could just imagine the irritated scowl on Ethan’s face.

“Hang on, let me find the light.” She groped hastily in the air above her head until her fingers found a small chain. She pulled it, and a dim bulb flickered to life about three inches above Ethan’s head.

Now her eyes confirmed that Ethan was indeed wearing an annoyed expression. “Jenna, what is this?”

“It’s a closet.”

“I can see that, but what am I doing here?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring up at him. “I don’t know, Ethan. As far as I can tell, what you’ve been doing is ignoring me for three weeks.”

To her surprise, a brief flicker of guilt flashed over his face. Then his eyes seemed to shutter, all emotion vanishing. “I’ve been busy.”

Jenna raised an eyebrow. “Busy? Is that the best excuse you can come up with for avoiding me?”

He gritted his teeth, his shoulders tense. “It hasn’t been easy, you know. I was gone from the hospital for more than a month, and now I’ve come back to a new job I wasn’t prepared for, with new interns to train—”

She cut him off, anger tightening her chest. “I’ve got a new job too, Ethan, and gossip swirling around me everywhere in this hospital. I can’t go anywhere without hearing whispers about the hearing, or about us. I needed you, Ethan, and you weren’t there for me.” Jenna had backed him into the wall as she spoke, prodding his chest as she continued. “Admit it. You don’t even care. I was nothing more than a fucking game to you.”

Eyes flashing, he grabbed her wrists, pinning them against her sides. “I care. You know I do.”

“Then prove it.”

For a moment, he looked so angry that she was afraid she’d pushed him too far, but suddenly he was pulling her into him, his lips crashing onto hers.

The kiss was rough and possessive, his hands clenched in her clothing as he backed her into the opposite wall of the tiny closet, pinning her hips with his own. Her fingers curled in his hair as she kissed him back, and his hands seemed to scorch her body as they traveled over her curves. He trailed his lips along her jaw to her ear, and she let her head fall back. He whispered, voice barely more than a growl. “Don’t you dare suggest I don’t care.” At his words, Jenna felt the anger drain from her body, and she relaxed against him. Ethan sighed, the tension fading from his own shoulders. He pulled back to meet her gaze, and in the dim light, his eyes seemed midnight blue, intense in their sincerity. “I want you, Jenna. God, I want you. And I’m sorry I haven’t been there.” A tortured look passed over his face. “But I won’t let you risk everything for me. Not again.”

Jenna raised a tentative hand to brush his cheek, his lips. He leaned into her touch, and she knew it was stupid, that it was just an organ, incapable of feeling, but her heart ached. “Ethan…” she whispered. He kept his head down, avoiding her gaze, but she gently lifted his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes. “Please don’t take the decision away from me. Don’t keep pushing me away.”

“What do you want me to do? You know how complicated this—"

She laid a gentle finger over his lips. “I’ve told you before. It’s not complicated for me.” His eyes searched her face. “Just give us a chance, Ethan. To try and make things work.”

“You could lose your career, Jenna. Both of us could.”

She met his gaze evenly. “Some things are worth any risk.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then, and she knew he was thinking about Miami, about that night that had started everything. “How can you be so sure?”

“I’m not. But I’d rather lose everything, and be with you, than have everything without you.” She smiled softly. “It’s like that poker game, Ethan. Even when it seemed like you’d lost it all, you still got the most important thing.”

His expression was thoughtful now as he considered her words. “It doesn’t bother you that we have to hide?”

Jenna thought for a moment. “It does… but it won’t be that way forever. Once my residency is over, it won’t matter anymore.” She smiled dryly. “Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? Naveen is the administrator, and I think he’s been on to us since day one.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Oh, he’s aware. You wouldn’t believe the amount of ‘subtle’ hints he’s given me about it.”

Tentatively, she took his hand. “We can do this, Ethan. Two careful years, and then we’ll have the rest of our lives.” She squeezed his hand. “Consider it a risk worth taking.”

His eyes searched her face again, and then, slowly, a small smile spread across his lips. “Okay.”

When she pulled him to her then, he didn’t resist. His arms were gentle around her waist, his kiss soft. Nothing seemed to matter much for the next few minutes but the scent of his aftershave and the feel of his mouth on hers.

When they finally broke apart, he gazed at her with wide eyes. “What is it?” she asked.

He smiled faintly. “I just don’t understand what someone so amazing could possibly see in me.”

His words surprised her so much that she blurted out an answer without thinking. “You’re smart, driven, loyal, and hot.” Oh god, what am I even saying? “And you’re great in bed,” she finished, before she could stop herself. She knew her face was bright pink by now, and she wished it was still dark in the closet.

Ethan simply stared at her for a moment, as if he hadn’t expected an answer, and Jenna blushed harder.

Then a mischievous smile curved his lips. “Hot?”

She shrugged, reasoning that she might as well tell the truth now. “Very.”

He wasn’t finished. “Good in bed?”

Jenna felt very warm. “I think you knew that already.” She’d never been one to shy away from… voicing her approval during sex. Especially when it was that good. Then she rolled her eyes to cover her embarrassment. “Figures that you’d zone in on those two things. Do you want me to tell you how smart you are now, or how much I admire your work as a doctor?”

Ethan grinned down at her. “You’re beautiful when you’re embarrassed.”

She faked a scowl. “Sure, just keep trying to sweet talk me.”

“Is it working?”

“…Yes.”

He leaned down and kissed her, and nothing seemed to matter much for the next few moments but the scent of his aftershave and the feel of his lips on hers.

“I have to go,” she murmured against his chest, as they stood in the tiny closet with their arms around each other. “Patients to attend to.”

He sighed. “Me too.” Jenna could feel the vibration of his voice in his chest as he spoke. “Will I see you tonight?”

“My shift ends at six. Maybe we could have dinner?”

“I’ll make a reservation. What kind of food do you want?”

She grinned up at him. “You can just pick something. I hear you rich doctors have impeccable taste.”

He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “If only it worked that way. I can pick you up from your apartment at seven.”

She nodded. “Okay.” Then she sighed. “We have to go. But first, how do I look?”

He stared at her, perplexed. “Fine? Healthy?”

Jenna rolled her eyes. “No, I mean, do I look like I just made out in a closet?”

A flush crept over Ethan’s cheeks. “No, you’re fine. I suppose your hair’s a bit messy.”

She patted her hair, and realized that her ponytail had nearly fallen out. She quickly re-tied it, and then gave Ethan a once over. “Your tie’s crooked.” She straightened it, and as he smiled down at her, she was struck with how intimate such a simple gesture was. Jenna could have stayed there forever, just the two of them looking at each other, but suddenly her pager beeped, and both of them jumped. She smiled at him ruefully. “Duty calls.”

Jenna turned out the closet light, and Ethan cautiously opened the door, poking his head out into the hallway to check for people. “No one’s around.” She exited after him, feeling like a high schooler playing Seven Minutes in Heaven. Ethan glanced around again, and then leaned down and kissed her quickly. “I’ll see you tonight.” She watched him stride down the hallway, pick up his chart from where he’d dropped it as she’d grabbed him, and disappear around a corner. A warm hope she hadn’t felt in weeks bloomed in her chest, and she hummed quietly as she went to respond to the page, smiling giddily. She’d placed a bet, and she had a feeling it would pay off.

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lovemesomerafael · 4 years

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Destroying the Planet to Save It Chapter 2: Another Damn Emergency

Chapter 1 Read it on AO3

“A what now?” Bucky cried.

Everyone in the back of the panel truck, including three Avengers, four S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, seven Secret Service agents, two Presidents of the United States and a First Lady, started shouting. Tornadoes were rare enough in Washington D.C., and if Clint Barton’s eyes were to be believed, this one was a monster. As a result, Steve found himself amid a large group of people simultaneously and collectively losing their shit in an enclosed space. The cacophony went on for several minutes before the assault on his supersoldier hearing finally overcame his innate politeness and respect for authority. Bigtime.

“SHUT UP!”

Steve’s enhanced strength and lung capacity ensured that the ears of everyone else in the truck now hurt as much as his did. It didn’t even occur to him to be sorry. In the stunned silence that followed, each person heard whatever Natasha whispered in Russian over the comms.

“What is it, Natasha?” Steve asked in a surprisingly calm voice.

“Uh, I see it, Rogers. The tornado. It’s… Huh. Not sure I want to be here right now.”

Former President Lattimore whimpered.

Current President Everett Burke scoffed at him, his voice quiet but clearly heard by all. “Oh, for the love of… Pull yourself together, Adam. At least pretend you got a sack on you.”

Lattimore, an ostentatiously church-going Christian, gasped. Everyone else in the truck tried to look somewhere else.

“Natasha,” Steve said. “The tornado, is it between us and the jet?”

“No, and it’s not heading that way. No reason to deviate from the plan.”

“Then don’t.”

“Listen,” President Burke said to Steve, “There’s going to be a lot of damage. I need to get somewhere where I can do my job.”

“Sir, right now the best thing you can do is make sure you remain able to do your job. And that means letting me get you to safety.” Bucky hid a smile at the heavy dose of Captain America Steve pumped into his voice. “You can do anything you need to from where we’re going.”

“Which is where?”

“I’ll tell you once we’re in the air.”

Tony spoke up. “Sir, I can assure you, you’ll have everything you need.”

“I am the President of the United States! I can’t just haul ass when the Capital’s in trouble!”

“With all due respect, Sir, that’s exactly what the President should do in this situation.” This was Craig Thomas, the senior Secret Service agent in charge of security at the event they’d just fled. “I have to agree with Captain Rogers. Only difference between what we’re doing now and what we’d be doing otherwise is, the decoys will be on Air Force One.”

“And us? Where will we be?”

“I admit yours is bigger, Sir,” Tony smirked, “But I do know how to kit out a plane.”

President Burke grinned, giving in to the wisdom of the plan. “I’ll just bet you do, Stark. What kind of scotch you got on board?”

“You won’t be disappointed. I promise.”

*****

Sam looked around at what he could only describe as a bunker. The limousine they’d arrived in had pulled into what appeared to be an industrial park, but as soon as they passed the roll-up door from the outside, all resemblance to a normal building ended. The driver crossed the garage-like first room to enter a steeply-angled tunnel that took them what Sam estimated was at least two stories underground. He wondered how far away from the actual entrance the tunnel took them. It was impossible to know, but he guessed they had to have driven at least two blocks from the building they’d entered.

“The fuck?” He whispered to himself.

There were a number of vehicles in the cavernous space that opened up at the end of the tunnel. Sam saw another limo, two mid-range sports cars, at least five utility trucks of various types, and probably a dozen ordinary sedans.

“What, exactly, is this place?” Sam asked.

Jarman Arias swished a hand dismissively through the air. “Washington is a dangerous city. I like to have a place of safety. Just in case.”

Sam and Agent Herrera were all eyes as they were guided from the limousine to a door nearby, and Sam had time to wonder how wise it was to follow when he saw that the door was made of metal and wouldn’t have been out of place on a bank vault except for its industrial ugliness. The door was set into the thick concrete of the walls. Sam noticed other doors and a few concrete hallways leading off of the massive garage space. He had no idea what to think, and Herrera didn’t appear any less confounded. He swallowed his misgivings and stepped through the door into what, surprisingly, appeared to be a fairly ordinary conference room. Luxurious, but not quite so evil-villian’s-lair as the space they’d just left.

Once the group had shuffled in and Arias had taken a place at the large, mahogany table that dominated the room, he offered Sam a cigar. Sam wanted to refuse. He meant to. Had he chosen to, he could have rattled off half a dozen reasons why he should, without even having to engage his brain. But Sam knew a little about cigars, and when he saw what was in the small humidor Arias was holding, he found himself absolutely incapable of declining. Fuck it. The dude was either a crazed megalomaniac who could manufacture a tornado, or he wasn’t. Whether Sam accepted a once-in-a-lifetime cigar wasn’t going to change that. He saw Anita Herrera’s raised eyebrow and shrugged. “I’m sure he’ll give you one, if you want.”

She smiled at him again, and Sam thought he might be a little in love already.

The room had five doors, including the one through which they’d entered. A couple were open, and another was ajar. Again, they were all metal, and all fitted into the concrete walls in a way that let Sam know how thick those walls were. He was interested in the fact that this place was underground, just where you were supposed to go in a tornado. Had Arias known there would be one? From what Barton had said, the tornado was massive. Sam wondered how well the huge hotel they’d left would have withstood something like that. He scowled, deep in thought, as one of Arias’s lackeys lit Sam’s cigar for him. Shit, he thought as he inhaled a mouthful of delicious smoke. Arias may have been a complete choad, but damn, that was a nice stogie. He looked around and indicated the room with a sweep of his arm.

“So you’re seriously tellin’ me this fucking doomsday silo is just you tryna keep from gettin’ mugged? I don’t think so.”

“Mr. Wilson, I don’t believe I have to answer to you,” Arias said smoothly, putting his cigar back in his mouth.

“I ain’t say you do. I’m just… interested.”

Arias smirked around his cigar, but said nothing.

“You got cable or somethin’ down here?” Sam asked, seeing he wasn’t to get anywhere with straight-up questions. “I’d like to see what’s going on outside.”

The worst of the destruction was north of the city, around Bethesda and Chevy Chase, although as tornadoes do, this one had skipped across the landscape, done some heavy damage in Rock Creek Park and even touched down as far south as Adams Morgan. So far, there were only three deaths reported, but it was early. The tornado itself had been accompanied by serious winds which had damaged a lot of buildings, including the National Cathedral and a number of historical sites.

*****

Stark’s Gulfstream G450 was at capacity, even though Pepper Potts and three of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents had stayed behind in Washington to deal with the threat. They’d put out the word that there had been a bomb scare, because that was the most plausible and the least surprising story. Tell people what they expect to hear, and they won’t ask questions. But Steve, Tony, and Bucky knew that nobody had any idea what had happened in D.C. Not really. Bruce Banner was still hard at work trying to make sense of the data. He would meet them in New York with Clint and Natasha as soon as they could get there.

In the meantime, President Burke was already talking on several phone lines at once, even as he sipped Tony Stark’s fine scotch. He was aboard with only eight Secret Service agents and the First Lady, which meant a fucking horde of functionaries were pissing their pants right now. The President simply did not get to leave Washington without months of planning and a 747 full of people with him.

“It’s the damn twenty-first century, Clive,” the President was saying. “You don’t need to see my face for us to get work done. But if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll text you a fucking selfie when we get off the phone here. Spine up, would you?”

Tony, sitting across from him at the small galley table, smiled and nodded, amused.

At the front of the cabin, Former President Lattimore and Agent Emerson sat in seats facing one another, with two of Lattimore’s usual Secret Service detail in seats across a little aisle from them. A healthy slug of very expensive gin had helped Lattimore calm himself, although the real reason he wasn’t as put out as he had been initially was the realization that he had been whisked away with the current President. Although Joss Emerson seriously doubted that was anything more than circumstance, she’d been the one to point that out, and encourage Lattimore to think that was due to his own continued importance, because it kept him pacified. She’d learned very well how to keep President Lattimore happy over the four long years of his administration. She’d voted for Burke more to make her work life better than for any political reason, and she had to stifle a groan at finding herself here, again, babysitting Lattimore. Thank God Mrs. Lattimore was basically a cipher. Her husband was enough work.

Joss’s mind was whirling. Of course, she’d known that S.H.I.E.L.D. was worried about something, and that whatever it was, it was serious enough, and strange enough, to warrant the unheard-of move to actually use the Avengers for security at tonight’s event. She had been well-briefed on the bizarre plan to evacuate if that threat emerged, and clearly instructed not to ask questions. Joss had been Air Force; she knew how to keep her head down and her mouth shut. But they couldn’t keep her from seeing, or thinking.

So Joss knew some things. She knew that this was no bomb threat. You didn’t need the Avengers to deal with something like that. She also knew that, like President Lattimore, she was only here on this plane through coincidence. Joss knew enough about the Avengers to know that, ever since they’d been back from Wakanda, Steve Rogers never went far without Bucky Barnes. If Captain America was tasked with protecting the President, he wasn’t going to do it without his Sergeant. Which meant that, when the threat they feared had emerged, Barnes had instructions to just bundle Lattimore and his entourage up and bring them along so he’d be on hand to help Rogers with the real mission.

She shivered a little. Although she would die rather than let him know it, Joss had always kind of had a thing for Bucky Barnes, ever since Captain America had defied the whole world to rescue his lifelong friend from Hydra. Sure, Steve Rogers was a gorgeous hunk of heroic muscle, the personification of bravery and patriotism and all that crap. She wouldn’t kick him out of bed. But Bucky Barnes? That man was an absolute filthy-hot badass. Joss’s kryptonite. She’d spent more time on YouTube than was perhaps entirely normal, watching video of him making impossible shots and fighting with that stupid-sexy metal arm of his, pulling knives out of God knows where and flipping them around too fast for her to follow with her eyes, let alone try to emulate. Joss found the whole package so ridiculously erotic that she was, at this moment, squirming in her seat. And it wasn’t only because of the damn wildly uncomfortable thong she’d worn because she’d known she was going to meet him tonight and fuck if she was going to do it wearing granny panties.

She didn’t fool herself that The Avengers would let her help save the world, whatever the threat was this time. But she was here with them in an enclosed space, and this was her one chance to be close to them, so she decided to find out what, if anything, they’d tell her. And maybe, just maybe, get a chance to see if Bucky Barnes really smelled as good as she’d always imagined he would.

Making her way back through the jet, Joss saw him standing with Steve Rogers and Sharon Carter in the little galley at the rear of the jet’s cabin. Both Steve and Bucky had shed their tuxedo jackets and their bow ties hung down their chests from unbuttoned collars. As she approached, she saw Bucky look up and notice her, and felt a dirty roll low in her body, accompanied by a shocking jolt of nerves as he grinned at her.

As soon as Bucky moved a little forward to talk quietly with the Secret Service agent he’d been partnered with, Steve moved a little closer to Sharon.

“You all right?” He asked quietly.

“Of course,” she smiled. “Plan worked flawlessly. The President’s safe, and we even got a bonus President. What’s not to like?”

Steve frowned a little. “A lot. It’s getting a little hard to imagine that the energy signature we’re seeing, whatever it is, isn’t causing these phenomena.”

“You’re saying you’re afraid somebody’s figured out how to cause natural disasters.”

“I’m trying not to say that. But after this...”

“Well, if it’s true, then Captain America will stop them. Like always.” Sharon smiled up at Steve, and he felt the thrill he always did when she looked at him. He was getting very fond of the seemingly unshakable confidence she always showed in him. At the same time, Steve wished he shared that confidence. Or that the responsibility to stop somebody with the power to cause earthquakes and tornadoes rested on somebody else’s shoulders. That kind of power was terrifying. Steve sometimes wished he could afford to be terrified.

“What’s that look for?” She asked.

“Ask me again when we get to New York. Or maybe when this is over.”

Sharon’s eyes clouded a little. “I will. You can talk to me, you know.”

“I know. Just… not now.”

“OK. Can I kiss you, though? You look like a man who needs a kiss.”

“I am most definitely a man in need of a kiss.” His half-shy smile gave Sharon delicious chills down her spine.

She stepped into Steve’s arms, noticing as always how warm he was with that supersoldier metabolism, and reveling in the feeling of his rock-hard body against hers. Sharon was sometimes overwhelmed by how absolutely, spectacularly beautiful he was. But it was so much more than that.

Sharon knew what the look on Steve’s face had been about. It was about the crushing weight of responsibility Steve carried with him every moment of every day. Steve did everything he could to keep anyone from seeing how exhausting that was. But Sharon could see it. It was why she had come back to S.H.I.E.L.D. Sure, she’d responded to Director Coulson’s request, and understood his need for Agents around him he could trust implicitly. But she hadn’t come back for Director Coulson. She’d come back because she was in love with Steve Rogers, and S.H.I.E.L.D. was where she could be of the most help to him. She’d come back because, with the seemingly unhealable rift between the Avengers, Steve had needed all the friends he could get, and Sharon Carter was damn well going to be there for him.

She made no secret of her attraction to him. Hell, she was kissing him at this very moment. But Steve kept a wall around him that might as well have been made of vibranium. Theirs was the most casual possible dating relationship. Sharon had become Steve’s go-to when he needed a plus one for some event or other, but that was basically it. They had never even been on a real date. They’d certainly never slept together. They had meals together when they were both working in the same place. They talked, sometimes even about actual feelings and experiences and shit. But it was all so superficial.

She hated it, and not only because it was damn cold in the fucking friend zone. Sharon ached for how lonely and encumbered with his sense of obligation Steve Rogers was, knowing that he thought no one could see. That maybe he would be angry that she could see. She craved the chance to just hold him, run her hands through his hair and tell him it was OK to lay it all down for a while. To kiss him and caress him and make him forget, at least for a little while.

Sure, Steve had Bucky, and they were closer than brothers. But right now, Bucky was just beginning to integrate into the team, and even though his mind was clean again, his wounds weren’t something that were going to heal anytime soon. Steve would never burden Bucky with his own pain at a time like that. No, Steve would be there for him, lending him his own strength and doing whatever he could to help Bucky recover and build a life for himself, without any regard to what Steve needed.

Sharon wasn’t sure whether he would ever let her in, but she knew that whatever he needed from her, she would give. Steve was an icon of strength and bravery to the world, but to Sharon, he was a bruised, overtaxed man, trapped and tormented in a prison of his own making, feeling responsible for the safety of the whole world, and everyone in it. It frightened her, how much she loved him. She would give anything to be able to ease his pain, if only a little.

As she held back all the feelings she was so afraid to share with him, settling for a tender caress of his lower lip with hers, Sharon tried to will some of her confidence into Steve. She tried to pour some of her strength into him through the hands she splayed on his back under his jacket, sliding them across his bunched muscles with a little thrill. OK, maybe a larger-than-average thrill. Not that Steve needed strength, exactly. What he needed was the will to keep taking the fate of the world onto himself, crisis after crisis, day after day. Like today. Another damn emergency, Sharon thought. When he was already exhausted. When would he get a break?

“You get him settled?” Bucky asked Agent Emerson as he slid lazily onto the credenza just outside the galley where Steve and Sharon were having a moment. Joss sat next to him, willing herself not to lean in and press her nose to his neck. Because damn it, he did smell as good as she’d always imagined. Shit.

“He’s fine. Got a drink into him, started him telling Agent Thomas stories of his glory days.”

Bucky grinned. “You’re good with him, Agent Emerson.”

“Joss. Please.”

“Joss.” Ok, now she was wet. Bucky Barnes had said her name, just said her name, and that was all it took before her idiotic, miserable thong was soaked and she was ready to lay him out on the floor in front of the President of the United States. Two, in fact.

“So. What can you tell me?” She asked, taking a breath she hoped would stop the hormones flooding into her system.

“Not much. We don’t know much. Just enough to be concerned about the President at that event. What we were afraid of happened, so here we are.”

“And what was that? What were you afraid of?”

Bucky hesitated over his next words. “I’m sorry. I can’t say.” He watched Joss Emerson absorb that. She didn’t look any happier about it than he’d be in her place.

“Right.” She nodded stiffly. “Just… I know whatever the threat is, it’s not a bomb. And I know that I’m no Avenger. I’m not even S.H.I.E.L.D. But I am Secret Service, which means I’m trained and I know how to keep my mouth shut. It also means I’m sworn to protect him.” She indicated the President over her shoulder. “Just don’t forget I’m here. We, I mean. We’re here.” She blushed and indicated the other Secret Service agents on the plane with an embarrassed flick of her hand.

“Don’t worry. You’ll get him back to yourselves quick enough.” Bucky grinned. He could relate to her wanting to get these interlopers out of the way of her job. He’d have felt the same way.

“It’s more than that. I’m offering to help. With… whatever this is.”

“Well, I hope we won’t need it. But if we do, I know where to find you. And your two guns and five knives.”

“Three and seven, actually,” she said with a smirk that Bucky could feel in his chest. “I picked up a few on the way out of the ballroom.”

“Huh. I saw the MP5. What else?”

She looked at him for a second, then apparently decided he was serious and poked two fingers down into the thick French twist at the back of her head. And pulled a Gerber 06 from inside it.

Bucky broke into an intrigued smile as she handed it to him but, rather than look down at the folding knife, he watched her smooth out her dark hair again. He realized he really liked it. The way she was wearing it right now was all business, but he could tell there was a lot of it and he kind of wanted to pull out whatever was holding it and let it fall around her shoulders. In fact, now that he really looked at her, Bucky was suddenly struck by the fact that Agent Joss Emerson was actually a bombshell. And the way her brown eyes sparkled as she pulled a tac knife from her hair – a Gerber 06 switchblade, no less – suggested that she had a wild streak. Interesting.

But it was when she pulled a Benchmade Infidel from one of the cutouts at her waist that Bucky started to think this was a girl he’d like to get to know. He whistled low and took it from her, flicking the long, thin blade out the front. “Sweet,” he breathed.

“Yeah. It’s my favorite, actually.”

“The President know you have one of these? They’re illegal in some states.”

“You kidding? I’m sitting like this so he won’t see it. If he does, he’s gonna want to play with it some more.”

“I guess he was a SEAL. Probably isn’t afraid of a little steel.”

“Just the opposite. The press gives him a hard time about his guns, calls him ammosexual. Uh-uh. Man’s all about knives.”

“Speaking of SEALs, I just got this,” Bucky said, pulling his new SOG Seal Strike from a sheath at the small of his back.

Joss’s eyes went wide. “Oh, that is nice…” She took it from him and he watched her test the weight and balance. Just the way she handled it showed Bucky that this was a woman who knew knives.

“Wanna see the best one?”

“Yeah,” she gushed.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Joss could feel a point pressing against her ribs. She looked down to see that Bucky was holding an evil-looking, matte black push dagger against her. She wasn’t sure whether it was the fact that she hadn’t even seen him move, or the wicked grin on his face that made her heart stutter. Either way, she was pretty sure somewhere a cardiologist was feeling a disturbance in the Force.

“You think my switch is illegal? I’m pretty sure I’m not even supposed to be looking at that.”

Bucky liked her reaction. A lot. For the next ten minutes, they admired the small knife, meant to be held in a fist and punched into the body. Bucky had designed this one, and had a lot to say about it.

Aft of them, in the galley, Sharon bumped a hip against Steve and pointed at the weapons show and tell happening a few feet away. Turning, Steve took in the scene and raised an eyebrow, then laughed quietly. He was shaking his head when he turned back to Sharon, but his fond grin and the warm note in his voice belied his attempt to appear to disapprove. “Believe it or not, that’s flirtation for Bucky.”

“That’s terrifying.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve chuckled. “Buck’s got a very particular type.”

The way Bucky’s grey-blue eyes looked at her over his wide, easy smile made Joss wonder whether they’d lost cabin pressure. She actually thought she might lose consciousness, the way her head was spinning. She realized suddenly that this might have been a mistake. Maybe she shouldn’t be sitting here, her leg actually touching Bucky Barnes’s knee, their hands touching repeatedly as they examined the custom push dagger. It was one thing to do a little bit of – OK, a not unobsessive amount of – fangirling over a good-looking famous dude. But this was The Job. She started to question the wisdom of offering her services in this situation, because she couldn’t be sure she would be able to concentrate the way she needed to with Bucky Barnes around.

When he saw her face change, Bucky figured the reason was fairly obvious.

“Listen,” he said, sliding the knife back into wherever he’d pulled it from. “I understand you wantin’ to be in the loop. Believe me. Nobody’s tryin’ to cut you out of anything; we got nothing but respect for you guys. It’s just… shit tends to get weird around us. Well, that’s not exactly right. We go where shit’s already weird. Anyway, the point is, you don’t want any of this.”

Joss nodded. “I don’t want anybody to fuck with my President, either, but if they do, I’ll be there. That’s all I’m saying. I’m here.”

“With an O6 in your hair,” he grinned. “Got it. If there’s a role for you, I won’t hesitate. Promise.” Huh, Bucky thought, realizing he actually meant that.

*****

Sam Wilson could be a charming guy. An entertaining guy. A guy who could catch the attention of a roomful of thugs and keep it, if the need arose.

The need arose.

He could see Agent Herrera looking around whatever this place was, and it was obvious from the way her eyes took in everything that she knew what she was doing. Twice now, one of Arias’s goons had noticed her basically casing the joint and rudely barked at her to sit back down at the table.

She never did. She’d stand there for a while, but Sam watched her in his peripheral vision and recognized her gradual, inevitable drift away again, always toward one of the doors. He decided to help her, launching into a long, somewhat fact-based series of stories about his early days testing the EXO-7 for the Air Force. The more Sam crashed, the more they laughed. Even Arias was diverted for a while. It wasn’t until he saw Herrera glide silently back into the room from one of the open doors that Sam finally stopped spinning tales. Her timing was good; he was running out of lies. But the look Herrera gave him told Sam that she’d found what she’d been looking for.

Two hours after arriving at Arias’s bunker, or whatever it was, Sam and Agent Herrera were chauffeured back to the hotel where the Presidential event was to have taken place. They sat next to one another on the back seat, saying little, and nothing important. Sam had no doubt that whatever they said would be recorded, or at least reported back to Arias. He also had no doubt that Herrera had seen something. She was almost bursting out of her skin, vibrating with excitement even as she schooled her expression to seem bland.

The hotel was unscathed by the night’s events, other than the unholy mess left behind by the herd of overgroomed assholes trying to push their way out when the evacuation began. Sam led Agent Herrera past the doors to the ballroom and down an out-of-the-way hall to a small conference room where a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent they both knew stood guard. They all nodded to each other, and the guard stepped aside to allow Sam to guide Agent Herrera in with a hand on the small of her back.

Sam didn’t even wait long enough to acknowledge anyone in the room. The second the door closed, he had a hand around Herrera’s upper arm and pulled her around to face him.

“What?” He asked, standing too close to her in his eagerness to hear what she had to say. She didn’t seem to notice, because she was just as eager to tell him what she’d seen. She was actually panting a little, her deep brown eyes shining with excitement. Sam’s body noticed. He was a professional, sure, but he was still a man, and… Holy shit.

“That place,” Herrera began. “Arias’s lair, or whatever you want to call it. It’s got an insane amount of power running to it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you notice all the pipes and tubes running along the ceiling in that underground garage? Some of them were for water, steam, whatever, but a lot of them – most of them, were conduits for electrical wires. There were way too many of them, and some of them had to have high-voltage electrical wiring in them. And those doors from that… conference room or whatever. Two of them led to corridors, just basically concrete hallways with more pipes and conduits running along them. It’s underground, and it’s concrete, right? So there’s no way to hide them, and why would you in a place like that? So I got a good look at them, and I’m telling you, that place has more power running into it than most skyscrapers. There’s something big and power-hungry down there to need that much electricity feeding it.”

As she was speaking, Natasha and Bruce had come over to listen. They both had questions that began general and very quickly got technical enough that they left Sam in their dust. He looked over at Clint, who was squatting on a table watching something on a monitor. Strolling closer, Sam saw that it was video of the tornado. He gasped.

“Mother of- Is that the one here?”

“Yeah, but don’t get too excited. As tornadoes go, it’s kind of a piece of shit. Only an EF-2, and it wasn’t on the ground for more than ten minutes.”

“Well, you sure sounded excited when you saw it,” Sam noted.

“I know, and it’s kinda buggin’ me. It looked big. I mean, it was dark and all, but with the city lights illuminating the clouds, I could still see it pretty good, and it seemed… I don’t know. Something’s off about it. Something about the whole storm just doesn’t look right. Bruce has some fancy-ass meteorologist working on it. She’s meeting us in New York.”

Sam watched the video, thinking that if this tornado didn’t impress Clint, he definitely wouldn’t want to see one that did. It looked wicked.

“Hey,” Clint said quietly, nudging Sam with his elbow and sliding his eyes over toward the group who were excitedly discussing the power lines Agent Herrera had seen in the underground facility Arias had called “Site B.”

“What’s she like?” Clint asked in an amused undertone, indicating Agent Herrera.

“She’s a professional woman doin’ a job, is what she’s like, you sexist shithead.”

“Uh-huh,” Clint grinned. “You got nowhere with her.”

“I wasn’t tryna… Man, shut the hell up,” Sam screeched, trying to stay quiet. He gave Clint the dirtiest look he could manage, then stalked back over to the group to rejoin the discussion of what Herrera had seen.

Clint just laughed.

*****

The flight from Washington D.C. to New York was just over an hour long, but the general atmosphere among those who piled into the obscenely luxurious vehicle for the drive from the private airfield to Stark Tower was one of exhaustion. Joss wasn’t sure what to call this thing; the closest thing she could come up with was “Limo Bus”. Everyone from the plane sat on the plush, curvy seats that lined both sides of the vehicle, while Tony Stark offered them a variety of drinks from the semicircular bar – an actual damn bar - that curved out between two of the long seats on one side. Everything that wasn’t black was red and gold, including the neon light that poured out from under the seats and across the ceiling.

Joss must have shaken her head, or made a face, because Tony stopped his manic bartending and pointed at her accusingly.

“You don’t like my bus,” he snapped, keeping his finger in the air, directed at her, as he scowled.

“I’m expecting strippers any moment,” she blurted before she could think better of it.

President Lattimore, on her left, sucked in his breath in disapproval. “Joss, for heaven’s sake. The man is our host.”

Joss, appalled and mortified, began to sputter. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. I didn’t mean to… I just… It’s… a lot.”

“I’m a lot, Miss Secret Service. And just for that, no cocktail for you.”

With that, he turned his head and began taking drink orders from those on the other side of the bar, dismissing her entirely.

Joss suddenly liked the red neon light very much, because it hid the deep blush she knew was the reason her entire face was burning. It didn’t help that she could hear Bucky Barnes snickering on the other side of President Lattimore.

The former President held his drink out to her, leaning in too close. “I’d be happy to share mine with you.”

“Thank you, Sir, but I’m on duty anyway.”

Joss didn’t say another word for the rest of the way to Stark Tower.

#The Avengers #Captain America #Bucky Barnes #Sam Wilson #Natasha Romanoff #Bruce Banner #Sharon Carter #Tony Stark #Clint Barton #Agent Phil Coulson

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buckyscrystalqueen · 6 years

Text

Half Blood, Whole Heart: Part 6

Pairings: Jax x Reader, sister Winchester!reader- SOA/SPN Crossover

Warnings: Swearing, fluff. angst…..

Word Count: 4,358

A/N: So I decided to repost my novel- the story that someone stole from my old blog and put up on Wattpad. PLEASE don’t be an asshole and steal my stories. It CRUSHED me when it happened and almost ran me off Tumblr.

Half Blood, Whole Heart Masterlist Aesthetic by @ravenangel33

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Teller?” A woman called out sweetly into the waiting room. You and Gemma lurched from your chairs and ran over to her.

“How is he?” You both asked simultaneously. She smiled and nodded.

“He’s stable. We were able to stop the bleeding and repair the damage.”

“Where is he?” You asked.

“He’s resting now.” You shook your head as Gemma sighed with relief.

“No, I asked where. Not if he was sleeping or not. Where?” The woman looked a little startled but gave you a sweet smile.

“I can only bring one of you back at a time.”

“Go.” Gemma said as she gave you a gentle push. You didn’t need to be told twice as you followed the woman back into the hospital. As you trailed behind her, you felt yourself getting anxious and you wanted to scream at her to walk faster. After a few turns and one seemingly endless hallway she finally stopped in front of a door.

“It make take him a while to come around. He lost a lot of blood.” You nodded as she opened the door and you tried to brace yourself. As you stepped into the all white, too bright room, you couldn’t contain your choked sob. Jax looked so pale laying in the hospital bed and there were lead lines and IV’s decorating his body.

“My God, baby…” You whispered as you grabbed a chair and walked it over to the right side of his bed. Silent tears ran down your cheeks as you collapsed in the chair next to him. You gently took his hand in yours and laced your fingers with his. “Come home to me.” You whispered as you kissed his knuckles. You sat for hours, waiting; fielding texts and calls from your SAMCRO family and from Dean and Sam about his condition. Around dinner, the nurse allowed Gemma to bring you something to eat and to see her son.

“He’s gunna be fine.” You told her as she took your seat. She nodded wordlessly as she ran her hand over her boy’s blonde hair. She only stayed a few minutes before her anxious energy got the better of her. With silent tears, she gave you a kiss goodbye and left to go do something to make the waiting go by quicker. You sat back down and only picked at your meal.

You had just laid your head down on the bed to try and force yourself to sleep when you felt Jax stirring above you. You looked up with tears of relief in your eyes as he slowly opened his.

“I thought I told you to be safe, Jax.” You whispered; your voice incapable of getting any louder as your tears fell again. He moved his arm out to the side and gestured to you.

“Come here.” You gently climbed onto the bed next to him as he wrapped his arm around you. “Babe, I’m so sorry.” He whispered as he kissed the top of your head. You laid your tear soaked cheek on his chest and shook your head.

“You’re OK; that’s all that matters. The rest we will take care of.” The two of you laid with each other for a few minutes before you forced yourself off the bed to call for his nurse. As the woman took his vitals, you shot a quick text to Sam before calling Gemma. You let her know he was awake and she told you she’d be right there. You hung up the phone at the same time as the nurse finished and left the room. You took your spot back in your chair and Jax grabbed your hand.

“Marry me.”

“Well that’s romantic.” You snorted and he shook his head and pushed himself up a little straighter in bed.

“I’m all about the fairytale, baby.” He shot back with a groaned laugh as he pulled you toward him. You sat down on the bed by his hip and he gently reached up and cupped your cheek. “I thought I was gunna die today, laid out on that road. It made me realize that I don’t want to live another moment without you as my wife. I love you so fucking much, (Y/N). Marry me; please. Right here, right now.”

“Jax…” He squeezed your hand and you searched his pleading eyes. With a soft smile, you nodded. “Alright.” His face softened into a beautiful smile and he pulled you in for a soft, passionate kiss. After a moment, you pulled back and rested your forehead against his. “You can tell mom when she get’s here. Sam and Dean are in Colorado so can you wait long enough for me to get ahold of them and see if I can get them and my dad here?”

“Anything you want, Mrs. Teller.” You smiled and leaned back to look at him.

“Yea, see I like that better than old lady.” He chuckled as you gave him a chaste kiss and you shook your head. “God, you’re such a hot mess, Jackson.”

“Yea, well now you’re really gunna be stuck with me.”

——

“Could you get ahold of dad?” Sam asked as you smoked a cigarette outside of the hospital while Dean found a parking spot the next day. You shook your head.

“Nope. Phone’s still off. I left a message with Bobby for him though incase dad ever calls him.”

“Don’t you think you should wait?” He asked and you shrugged as you took another drag.

“Why, though? We don’t know where he is or when he’s coming back. I’ve got you and Dean here and I know he would understand.” Sam nodded as he toed the pavement.

“It’s strange.” He said as Dean walked over. You cocked your eyebrow and tilted your head slightly.

“What is?” With a small huff, he looked up at you, smiled and gestured to the white shirt and light blue jeans Gemma had brought you to wear.

“Never thought you’d be the first one of us to get married.”

“Shit, after mom, I never thought a Winchester COULD get married with our life and luck.” Dean teased. You shoved at his shoulder lightly before taking the last drag of your cigarette.

“We will be doing this again for both you boys sooner than you think.” Dean scoffed as the three of you headed into the hospital.

“Not me. I’m a lone wolf; prowling the streets of the country just me and Baby.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Sam retorted with a laugh. You giggled and Dean simply shrugged.

“You’re just over there complaining about my music.”

“That’s because you listen to the same four ancient tapes over and over again, De.” You chimed in to Sam’s defense. Your oldest brother put his hand over his heart.

“Well, I never! How dare you trash the sweet, sweet sounds of Zepplin or…”

“Or the other three tapes Sam and I could sing backwards, forwards, and underwater?” You and Sam both laughed as Dean scowled.

“You know what… it’s my car and you know the house rules. Driver picks the music…”

“Shotgun shut’s his cake hole.” you and Sam finished for him as you stepped into the suddenly very crowded hospital room. You paused for a moment before you looked around at your second family and you smiled.

“Quick introductions; Sam and Dean, meet… like a third of SAMCRO.” There was a brief rumble of hello before Tig raised his hand from the corner.

“Yea hi, Tig here; peanut gallery. Can we get this goin'? Little to much dick in such a small space for my liking.”

“Shut it, Tig.” Gemma snapped. You giggled and went and sat on the bed as a nervous looking hospital priest stepped forward and Jax nodded at him.

“Uh.. we are gathered here on the 7th of October…”

“packed like sardines…” Tig chimed in sarcastically and Clay, who was standing right next to him, hit him over the back of the head.

“Zip it or get the fuck out!” Jax snapped. You smiled at your soon-to-be husband as Tig mumbled an apology.

“t-to join Jackson Nathanial and (Y/N) (Y/M/N) in holy matrimony. Who gives this woman to be married to this man.” The room got quiet for a moment and you turned to look at your oldest brother.

“De, that would be you.”

“Me?” He asked, stunned. You raised your eyebrows and nodded as a few of the guys chuckled. “Oh shit. Yea, me; I give her… to… him?” You groaned and shook your head as everyone laughed. The priest nodded and you could tell he was fighting to keep a straight face.

“Do you, (Y/N), take Jackson to be your lawfully wedded husband?” You turned sideways on the bed to look at him with a smile and brushed a stray hair back behind his ear.

“I do.” He smiled even bigger as he reached up and held your palm to his cheek.

“Do you, Jackson, take (Y/N) to be your lawfully wedded wife?” He nodded against your palm and gave it a small kiss.

“Yea, I definitely do.”

“Do you have rings?” Your smile fell slightly for only a moment before Gemma stepped up to the side of the bed. She reached out and handed a set of rings to Jax and he looked up at her.

“Are you sure?” He asked. She smiled and nodded as a tear fell from her eye.

“Your dad would have wanted it this way.” He nodded and gestured her down for quick hug and a kiss before he took your hand in his.

“My dad married my mom with this ring.” He told just you as he slid the simple silver band on your finger. “This was his.” he said as he put his father’s ring in your palm. You bit your lip to stop your own tears as you slid the silver band into place. With a smile, he held onto your hand as the priest continued.

“Does anyone have anything to say?” He asked.

“Aye.” Chibs jumped in.

“Aw Jesus.” Jax said.

“Here we go.” You stated at the same time as he walked over to the side of the bed. He paused for a second, looked at the two and took a deep breath.

“‘May the Lord ‘old ye in ‘is ‘and, and may ‘e never close ‘is fist too tight.’ Beannachd Dia dhuit. I love ye’s both.” He pat your folded hands and you nodded at him as he stepped back against the wall.

“Promise her.” Clay called out. You brow furrowed slightly and Jax sighed as the SAMCRO guys let out a small cheer. He tilted his head to the side as a smirk graced his features.

“I promise to treat you as good as my leather…”

“And ride you as much as my Harley.” The guys finished with him. You couldn’t stop the slight blush that crept up on your cheeks. You giggled and used your enclosed hands to cover your face for a second as you muttered ‘Oh, my God’ under your breath.

“Well then… by the power invested in me by the State of California, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” With a laugh, Jax grabbed your jaw and crashed his lips to yours as your family clapped and cheered.

“I love you… wife.” He whispered against your lips and your smile got impossibly bigger.

“I love you… husband.” He chuckled and nodded slightly.

“Yea, I like the sound of that.”

��—

“When I get out of here we are moving out of the clubhouse into our own place.” Jax said that night after everyone had left as he fiddled with the wedding band on your hand. You nodded your head against his shoulder and smiled.

“I am totally OK with that. We can find a place by your mother.” You teased as someone knocked on the door.

“Yea fuck that… Yea?” he called out. The door opened slowly and you sat up a little straighter as your dad walked in.

“Daddy? What are you doing here?” He chuckled as he stepped into the room and closed the door.

“What, you think my little girl would get married and I wouldn’t know about it? Bobby called me right after you called him. I’m in California on a lead anyways so I came down just to say congratulations.” He walked over and gave you a lingering kiss on the forehead before shaking Jax’s hand. “I gotta get back on the road. I just wanted to stop by.” You nodded and lost the battle with your tears as he turned and headed out the door. He paused as he was about to close it and looked at you. “I’m proud of you, (Y/N).” Without waiting for a response, he closed the door and left you in a stunned silence.

“Man knows how to get his point across in next to nothin’.” You laughed and nodded as you laid back down on the slightly too small bed.

“It’s kinda creepy sometimes. Dean does the same thing; came up with code words to make it even quicker too.” Jax laughed as he went back to playing with your wedding band.

“Code words like what?”

“Umm… like Poughkeepsie means drop everything and run… aaannd… funky town means you’re in trouble…” Jax laughed and you glanced up at him with a smile.

“You guys would have your own code!” You shrugged.

“Hey, it kept us alive and out of jail… most of the time.”

“Well Mrs. Teller, I can tell you now that those are two things that I will be the only one worrying about now.” You smiled and looked up at him.

“My hero husband saving the day.”

~~~~~~~ MID-MARCH 2007 ~~~~~~~~~

“Hey babe?” Jax called out as he walked into the three bedroom house the two of you had bought two weeks before.

“Bedroom!” You shouted from the closet where you were hanging up the last of his clothes behind yours. After a moment, Jax strolled in with only the slightest limp and a giant smile on his face.

“Stop unpacking and pack up.” You whipped around to look at him and growled in frustration.

“Damnit Jax, what now? Your mother and I have been moving shit in all week while you’re off galavanting around doing who knows what…” he chuckled, wrapped his arms around your waist and silenced you with a kiss.

“Honeymoon. Two weeks- no work, no club, no one but you and me and the open road.” Your face softened from anger into confusion.

“How the hell did you manage to pull that off?”

“Ma told Clay it was happening. Said we needed ‘us’ time as newlyweds because of everything that’s been happening last few months with Jess and your dad and my shooting and recovery and shit.” You smirked and slowly wrapped your arms around your husband’s neck.

“So you’re tellin’ me… that you and me… get to get on your bike… drive away… and no one is going to stop us?” You asked punctuating your phrases with light kisses. He hummed and shook his head slowly with a smile.

“No one’s stoppin’ us.” You moved your hands down his neck to cup his cheeks and leaned back slightly in his arms.

“Then what the hell are we doing still standing by the closet?” He pulled you back to him for a bruising kiss before letting you go to start packing.

“So where am I taking my beautiful wife?” He asked as the two of you started grabbing clothes and tossing them out onto your bed.

“Away from Charming and preferably not to a motel.” He laughed as he headed into the bathroom.

“You want to go to Florida?” He called out as you grabbed a backpack and started putting clothes in it.

“Florida is a hot tourist trap even in the spring, trust me I’ve done the research a time or two. Oh! Let’s go to New York! I’ve never been to the city before. We can see what kind of trouble the Teller’s can get into there.” Jax walked out of the bathroom with a smile, handed you a few bathroom essentials and nodded.

“New York City it is.”

“You wanna know what I wanna do?” You said with a wicked smile as he pulled your phone chargers from the wall.

“What’s that?” You waited for him to look at you and smiled even wider.

“I wanna fuck you right in the middle of Central Park.”

“Oof! I like the sound of that!” You laughed as you zipped the backpack closed and kissed his cheek.

“I thought you would.” You grabbed your boots and shoved them on quickly as he threw a few last minute things into the bag. “Is it bad that despite the fact that I love our house and we just bought it, I am so happy to be leaving?” You asked as you went to the closet to grab your jacket and gun.

“Well if it is, I’m guilty of it too.” You smiled as you grabbed the back pack off the bed and slung it on your back. “You ready?” You nodded as he reached for your hand. The pair of you couldn’t rush out of the house faster to get on the road and before you knew it, you were flying down the highway with the wind in your hair. You didn’t realize how much you missed the feeling of the open road.

The sound of approaching motorcycles a few hours into Nevada made both of you tense. As they got closer, you both realized that you now had found yourself in a very precarious situation; you and Jax facing eight Mayan bikers.

“Hang on.” Jax shouted as he gunned his bike past the group of riders. You looked into the rearview mirror as two men at the back of the pack whipped around to follow you. He punched it even harder as the men gained on you.

“Gimme your gun.” You shouted before glancing over your shoulder. You knew you were a good enough shot and distance wasn’t an issue but you didn’t want to reach for your own to tip the two men off.

“What? No way, I…”

“Jackson! Less talking.” You felt his growl rumble through his chest as he reached for his gun and handed it to you in front of his body. “Slow down just a bit.” He nodded and glanced in the mirror as he eased off the gas a hair. You smirked as you turned partially on the seat and the men began shooting at you. “Fucking idiots.” You said to yourself as you aimed and fired at the two men. Four shots in and you hit your mark; your bullet slammed into one of the men’s throat. His hands flew to his neck and his bike careened into his buddy’s sending him flying over the handlebars face first into the pavement at 50 miles an hour.

“Holy shit!” Jax shouted as he slowed down to go back. “How the fuck did you do that?”

“Years of hunter training on how to shoot a gun at shit that’s chasing after you.” As he came to an idle next to the wreckage, you shook your head. The guy who had flown over his handlebars was shouting in Spanglish and Jax took the gun from your hand.

“Get off.” He said as he put the kickstand down and you hopped off the bike. He stood above the guy and glared down at him with a look of pure rage in his blue eyes. “Think you can shoot at my wife?” He asked as he kicked the Mayan in the face. You couldn’t tear your eyes off the dead, panicked look the man you shot had as your husband began to beat the other man. It took you a moment to realize what was going on before you could react.

“Jax… Jackson!” You shouted. He paused just long enough to put a bullet between the man’s eyes before he stood up and wrapped you in a hug. You buried your face in his chest and shook your head as your hands began to shake. “I killed him.” Jax shook his head and kissed the top of your head.

“I’ll take care of this. Don’t worry babe; I got you.” The two of you stood there silent for a moment before he pulled away and looked down at the carnage. “Fuck… this is gunna cause a shit storm.” He pocketed his gun, grabbed his gloves and handed them to you. You cocked your eyebrow at him and he shook his head. “I won’t let you catch a murder charge. I can use my shirt.” You knew better than to question him and put them on as he moved his bike off the road. The two of you dragged bloody bodies and bikes off the road as quickly as you could into a pile in a ditch.

“What now?” You asked as he walked over to you, pulled out his phone and called someone. He didn’t say anything as he pulled out his cigarettes and lit you one.

“Uncle Jury? Hey… Been better man, listen… I got a problem.” As he told the story, you slowly smoked and stared in the direction of the two dead men. While this wasn’t your first kill by a long shot, this was the first human being you had flat out murdered. You sat down on the side of the road and rested your arms on your bent knees. A few minutes later, Jax crouched down next to you and rubbed your arm, shaking you out of your blank stare.

“Jury and the guys from an SOA charter here are gunna come help us take care of this. They’ll be here in like half an hour but I wanna get you out of here and to their clubhouse before I call Clay.” You nodded as he helped you off the ground. You grabbed the backpack and put it on as he started up the bike. You couldn’t stop yourself from looking back once more as you got on but forced yourself to look away as the love of your life rushed you away.

——

“Should’ve seen it, Jury. Fourth shot, straight through the throat.” Jax bragged to the president of the Indian Hill’s charter softly. “Never seen a shot like that from a bike.” You attempted unsuccessfully to ignore the men’s boastful banter as you picked at the label of your almost empty beer with your nail and tried to convince yourself that while what you did was murder; it was truly justifiable self-defense just like a hunt.

“What were you two doing out here alone anyways?” Jury asked. Jax smiled as he rubbed his hand across your back.

“Mom mandated a two week honeymoon. Headed to New York on a little road trip.”

“Hell of a way to start a honeymoon.” Jury said and you glanced up and really spoke for the first time since you had been there.

“Fits to par with the rest of our relationship though. He met me as a hitchhiker, wanted to date me because I knocked out some handsy douchebag at a bar, married me in a hospital bed day after he almost died so a dual murder by both of us for the honeymoon apparently was just the next step for the new Teller family.” The men laughed and Jax kissed your temple. A man you hadn’t met came over and said something in Jury’s ear and he nodded.

“Everything’s taken care of. You guys still headed East?” Jax nodded as you finished off your beer.

“Yep. Gunna get my old lady out of Mayan territory for a while and enjoy time together away from it all.” Jury nodded as the three of you stood up and he pulled Jax in for a hug.

“Your dad would be proud of the man you’re becoming.” He said as he pulled away from his war buddy’s son and looked at you. “And he would have loved a little spitfire like you.” He gave you a quick hug before pulling and looking at Jax. “Got a few of my guys out front; gunna ride with you to the boarder just to be safe.” You both thanked the older man for what seemed like millionth time before joining the five other bikers that made up your escort out of Nevada.

——

You stood just outside of the city on the side of the road, scowling and smoking a cigarette as Dean rattled off annoyingly in your ear while Jax looked at you almost pleadingly.

“Dean… Hon-ey-moon.” You enunciated angrily as you flicked off the ash of your cigarette. “That word means no hunting. And dad would…”

“Dad isn’t going to find out. We need the backup and you’re in New York for your ‘hon-ey-moon’ anyways.” he mocked.

“Is nothing sacred to you assholes?” You grumbled as you glanced at your husband. You could tell just by the look on his face that he was dying to see what a hunt was all about and a vamp case with the Winchester kids would be as good as any to let him. “Don’t give me that look.” You told him.

“C’mon, (Y/N) it will be like old times.” Sam begged.

“I hate all of you.” You grumbled. Your brothers gave a small shout of rejoice and Jax smiled as you shook your head. “Just send me the address of the motel you’re in.”

“Well this is turning out to be quite the honeymoon.” Jax teased as you hung up the phone.

“Yea, real Bonnie and Clyde bloodbath.” You flicked your cigarette across the road as your phone vibrated in your hand. You pulled the address up on your GPS, set the phone down by the speedometer and groaned as you got on the back. With a chuckle, Jax started up his bike and headed off in the opposite direction you were headed.

Part 7

#Jax x Reader #Half Blood Whole Heart #SOA/SPN crossover

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withbrutality-blog · 7 years

Text

Something In the Water

"(Must be something in the water you drink)

Why, why?

I do love you, I do

Or else I wouldn't go through all the things I do."

--- Prince, "Something In the Water (Does Not Compute)"

Chapter One

During one cold night, Molly recalls the day she left Sherlock and just how much her life has changed since.

Molly sat on the edge of her bed, shivering from the chill the night had brought. No matter how long she spent in autopsy rooms, she would never get used to the cold. With slow, deliberate movements so as not to let go of the warmth she was holding in with her blanket, she got up and made her way out to her small flat's living room. It was warmer in here, she thought, walking up to the air conditioner display and set it to twenty-two Celsius. She stole a quick glance at the clock display on her stove and groaned - it was four in the morning, on a Saturday. Lucky for her it was her day off; she had finally decided to use some of those vacation days she had wracked up over countless years.

Instead of hiking it back to her bedroom, she turned and walked to the living room and plopped down on the sofa. It wasn't like she was going to be able to get back to sleep anyway. Yawning, she grabbed the TV remote control and pressed the power button, a click! sound could be heard as the television came alive.

No sooner had the telly turned on then she regretted it and cursed - actually cursed - when a deerstalker atop a mop of dark brown curls appeared on the screen. It was a rerun report of Sherlock Holmes catching the British press up on his latest adventures (rather reluctantly). Every bit of her told her to change the channel or, better yet, go back to bed and catch some shut eye, but she just couldn't. It had been over a month since she had talked to the Reichenbach hero, and she would be lying if she said she didn't miss him.

But it had been her choice - to stop all contact with him in order to heal. True, Sherlock had shown her more affection since his return from the dead, but it wasn't enough and it never was going to be. What she wanted was something he couldn't give, no matter if he tried - intimacy.

Molly thought back to the day she had made up her mind to cut him out of her life and shivered, this time not from the chill. It had been a hard decision, but it was one that had to be made for her sanity. The hardest part, by far, was seeing him smile at her just seconds after she made the choice.

"Molly, thank you." Sherlock turned to face her abruptly.

She nearly tipped over - she had not expected him to acknowledge her, let alone say something...nice.

"F-For what?" She looked at him, her right eyebrow raised in question.

"For being there. That's all." He then flashed a very genuine smile at her, clearly expecting a response.

She just sighed. Of course he would appreciate her loyalty now, of all times.

Sherlock noticed her silence and began to walk slowly towards her, one step at a time.

"Molly?" he called her name with something that sounded like concern. She turned back to writing the postmortem vital records on her chart as he got closer and closer. "Mm?" was all she could get out.

"Is something wrong?" She tore her gaze from the bloodied and mutilated corpse before her and placed it upon Sherlock. Or at least the wall behind Sherlock's head.

"N-no. Jus' tired is all. Heh," she added the chuckle at the end, hoping it would fool the genius just this once.

It worked, or at least it seemed to. He simply nodded his head and grabbed his trademark coat before heading towards the exit. Not a word or another glance from him.

That was the last time she had talked to him in person. She grabbed her smartphone from the wood coffee table and checked her archived messages.

Sherlock had contacted her through his usual route of communication, text, inviting her out to tea. She was willing to bet John, Mary, and Mycroft would be there too..Molly bit her lip in frustration.

God he was so dense. She hadn't even bothered to respond, and he hadn't pressed her for any answers. In fact, he didn't even come by the morgue anymore, which was all well and good by her.

She tossed her phone to the opposite side of the couch and pulled the blanket tighter around her, watching and listening to her lover make a fool out of Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade for the umpteenth time in his career. It was rather funny, Molly allowed herself to think. Greg turned into a bumbling idiot when Sherlock was around, but that was mostly out of fascination.

Just then, her phone started to vibrate.

It's four in the morning! She yelled mentally. Whoever it was would have to wait.

Molly yawned one more time and stretched out on the couch, kicking her phone completely off without a care in the world. The phone paused in between consecutive vibrations, letting her know it was a series of text messages being spammed her way. She shrugged and turned over onto her side, the tip of her nose touching the back pillows. Soon she was drifting off, despite the never-ending buzz of her cellphone.

Not a moment later there was loud bamming at her front door, like that of a police officer.

She sat straight up like a rocket, prepared for the worst. She knew Moriarty liked to play games, and apparently he was back..

The doorknob started to jiggle violently. Whoever it was was trying to make their presence known.

"Who...Who is it?" she asked, hesitantly, her high voice quivering with not a small amount of fear. No answer. Instead the banging and rattling continued, forcing Molly to swallow her alarm and get up to at least look through the peephole. She pushed herself up on her tiptoes to get a better look through the small hole and gasped.

It was Sherlock. Of course it was Sherlock.

"Molly, God damn it!" Sherlock called, frustration thick in his voice.

She contemplated running off to her room, any interaction with him unwanted. Her healing process was yet unfinished.

"Molly!" he called, this time with...was that desperation?

Confused by the tone of his voice, she first unhooked the security latch, then the top lock, and hesitantly opened the door just enough for them to see each other.

It took everything in her power not to gasp again, this time from the sight of a very bewildered looking Sherlock Holmes. He was in his usual attire; dress shirt, slacks, and trench coach, but the look on his face was one she had never seen on him before.

It was a mixture of anger, perplexity, exhaustion, and sadness..

But that didn't stop indignation from rising in her.

"Sherlock, it is four in the morning! What is wrong with you?!" She silently thanked God that she had no other neighbors on her floor.

Instead of answering, he pushed past her and began pacing from the back of the couch to the front door and back.

Molly pursed her lips and shook her head. It was going to be a very long morning.

After a long fit of silence, he stopped pacing and look at her with dead eyes. Sherlock looked like a complete madman..She wondered if he was on drugs again.

"Molly," he began to frown,"You have been avoiding me."

"Yes," she said, simply.

"I do not understand. Have I...Hurt your feelings? I am sincerely sorry, Molly. Let the error be known so that I may amend-"

At this she shook her head. "Sherlock, for someone so smart, you sure are thick."

His eyes widened a little in surprise, clearly not expecting her to be so frank. No one ever expected Molly to be frank, but she had done some growing in the last month.

"Molly I.." his words failed him, a very rare occurrence, and part of her enjoyed it. But instead of relishing in seeing him as lost as she was a few months ago, she resolved to tell him exactly how she felt.

"You are right, Sherlock - I have been avoiding you. And for very good reason." Here a chill ran down her spine, prompting her to pull the blanket tighter for the hundredth time. The heater must have switched off.

"I have no reason to speak to you again Sherlock, and it is for the simple fact that I love you. Or I did. I'm not so sure anymore. Staying away from you is for my own health." At this she took a few steps toward the door and opened it, gesturing for him to see his way out.

He stood there trying to comprehend what she had said, not making an inch toward the hallway. She could practically see the gears running in his head trying to make sense of the matter.

"For God's sake, Sherlock! This isn't some case for you to solve. There aren't any answers except the one I have chosen for the both of us. Please leave, and don't come back." Molly said, as calmly as she could despite the circumstances.

Having the door open made the temperature in the house drop even lower.

Finally he walked over to the doorway, and turned just as he got over to her.

"Molly, why did you not tell me?"

"Because you are incapable of loving me the way I deserve to be loved. You said so yourself when we visited that tube fanatic."

He pursed his lips, and, even in the dark of the room, she could see tears stinging his eyes.

"I see.."

Another moment of silence.

A deep part of Molly, unbeknownst to her, hoped he would whisk her away to her bedroom where they would make passionate love and mend each other's broken hearts and shortcomings.

But that didn't happen.

"You will always have a friend in me, dear Molly. And I will always love you, please know that." Sherlock whispered, so softly she almost didn't hear it.

And like that he was gone, off to solve the next case with poise and vigor and passion. Sherlock could never love Molly the way she needed to be loved, nor could he love her the way he had loved the mysterious Irene Adler.

She closed the door quietly, locking it before pressing her head against the cool wood. He would keep his silent promise. He would not contact her, he would not seek her out, but he would always be there if she somehow needed him again.

And he did love her, in his way. But it just wasn't enough.

She wrapped her blanket around her and turned towards the hallway near her kitchen.

Now, about this heater...

Next Chapter

#molly hooper #sherlock holmes #sherlock #the reichenbach fall #sherlolly #sherlock fanfic #sherlolly fanfic #one shot #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #something in the water #prince

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