It’s finally here!!! Several days late, because life keeps throwing me curve-balls, but at last the wait is over.
This is written for @abovethesmokestacks Summer Madness Challenge, and is based on the prompt “We are not getting married!” which you’ll find in the fic in bolded letters :)
I hope you enjoy it, it’s the first thing I’ve written in months and months.
Word count: 1,494
Pairing: Steve/Bucky
Tags: College AU, Friends to Lovers, And They Were Roommates!
Title: Friendly proposals
Find it on AO3 here!
“Give it a rest Stevie,” Bucky sighed, “I checked every financial aid option out there, there’s nothing else to it. I’ll just get a job until I’m 24 and then start over or something.”
“You’re not dropping out Buck, we’ll figure something out.” He kept scrolling mulishly through the dozen or so tabs he had open about college tuition, loan applications, scholarships and anything else he could think of that would help Bucky pay for college.
There wasn’t a whole lot that Bucky hadn’t already tried, he hadn’t been lying when he told Steve he exhausted his options.
“You know you’re not considered automatically independent by your 24th birthday? You have to be 24 on January first for that to work. That’s almost an entire extra year of not going to school Buck!”
Steve heard Bucky groan into the pillows of the couch he was basically drowning in. “Can you just.. not right now? Let’s just drink tonight and forget about it, we can pick this up again in the morning”
“Fine, yeah that’s. Let’s do that, this is depressing” Steve sighed.
***
“Buck!” Steve burst through Bucky’s bedroom door the next morning, laptop in hand, “Buck, I think I got it!”
“Ungfh” was the only response he got.
“C’mon Buck, told you you weren’t dropping out!” He said excitedly as he dropped down on the foot of Bucky’s bed.
“Steve...” Bucky groaned, “Stevie. ‘s still bedtime. See?” An arm came waving from under the duvet in the general direction of the window, “drapes closed, still bedtime, now shhh”.
He tucked his hand back under his pillow and wiggled around a little to get comfortable again when Steve said, “Fine, sleep the day away. Just thought you should know we’re getting married and you’re not dropping out.” With a pat to the leg sticking out from under Bucky’s duvet he got up and made his way back to their living room.
The wiggling immediately stopped, but Steve had made it back to the living room by the time he heard Bucky shout “What?!”
“We are not getting married.” Bucky said as he launched himself over the back of the couch, landing close to Steve and making the couch dip just enough to make him lean into Bucky a little.
It had taken Bucky a considerable amount of time to actually manage to get out of bed after Steve's very unexpected proposal of sorts, but eventually he got up and after pointedly opening the drapes he joined Steve in their shared living room.
Steve closed his sketchbook and glanced over at Bucky’s face. His face flushed as he said maybe a little too loud “You’re not dropping out Buck. Besides, we can just get a divorce or something in a couple years when everything's settled” he finished in a much more subdued tone.
The casual nonchalance Steve was trying to portray seemed a little forced to Bucky, but he wrote it off as the lingering side-effects of being raised Catholic, even if the religion hadn't quite stuck.
He didn’t look at Steve as he replied “No. We’re not getting married.” He crossed his arms and sank down a little further in the couch, but didn’t say anything else. Steve would’ve sworn he saw a pout on those lips but knew better than to comment. Noticing Bucky's pout wasn’t uncommon for Steve, but commenting on it would bring attention to the fact that noticing Bucky’s lips was something he did. He did, often, but Bucky didn’t need to know that.
So instead he did what he did best. He argued. “Why would you choose to drop out if we can just get married? We already live together, I don’t know if this is the kind of situation where people would come and check if we’re actually together but I seriously doubt it.”
He had a hard time sounding as confident as he wanted to be, because the mere idea of getting married to Bucky made his heart skip a beat. He knew they were just friends and had been forever, it wasn’t like this would suddenly change just because they signed their names on a piece of paper, but still. It’d be a bit strange proposing marriage to the guy you low-key had a crush on since hitting puberty without getting a little jittery. Even if it was for a sham marriage.
When Bucky stayed silent, still glowering at the coffee table instead of at him, Steve soldiered on. Best to get it all out at once so everything was out in the open. “It’s not as if the divorce’ll be difficult right. Won’t even cost much, I checked. The people that complain about divorce being expensive are just all those folks fighting each other on every decision. We can just have one of those friendly divorces where we both agree to it and stay friends after. I think it’s the lawyers fighting with each other that makes divorce expensive.”
Bucky still wasn’t looking at him, or even arguing back. Which was odd. He usually at least glared at Steve whenever he did or said something stupid. Bucky’s jaw tightened and he looked away. He muttered something, but Steve didn’t catch what he said.
“C’mon Buck, is the idea of getting married to me really so bad you’d rather drop out of school?” he asked.
“What, no!” Bucky finally turned towards Steve with an incredulous look on his face. “You're an idiot if that’s what you think!” he said as he got up and walked around the couch. He turned on the spot so he was facing Steve again, but for once Steve couldn’t get a read on his face. “Getting married isn’t the hard part Steve, it’s the part where it’s a sham and the part where we’re already planning the divorce that I don’t think I can do! Do you seriously not know this? I mean I know you’ve always just kinda ignored the awkward one-sided feelings thing for the sake of our friendship, but - damn it I can’t do this” he muttered as he made his way into the kitchen, away from Steve.
For a minute Steve stayed seated, dumbfounded, listening to Bucky getting a glass of water and draining it in a few gulps. Bucky was filling his glass for the second time when Steve found his voice again and said softly, “feelings?”.
“Oh don’t pretend this is news. We talked about this years ago!” Bucky sighed in frustration and put his glass down. “I know you meant well, but it’s just a bad idea all 'round.”
Steve followed Bucky into the kitchen and when he turned towards him again he was shocked to see him so withdrawn. “What the hell d’you mean Buck? We’ve never talked about anything like this at all”.
“Yeah we did. Back in high school. One of those stupid hot days when we couldn’t decide if it was a better idea to just stay inside where the sun couldn’t get us or to sit outside where we could maybe still catch a bit of a breeze, so we just kinda -”
“Hung out on the fire-escape?” Steve finished with a chuckle as Bucky trailed off.
“Yeah.” Bucky said. “I made some stupid joke you thought was hilarious for some reason and you were laughing your ass off. That’s when I couldn’t stop myself and I told you I loved you and you just kept laughing until you said ‘I love you too Buck, you’re my best friend’. So I just... never brought it up again.”
“Buck...” Steve said, “I -”
But Bucky interrupted him, “No it’s fine Steve, just, let’s just forget about this and find some other way I can stay in school alright”.
“No.” Steve said forcefully, “I am not forgetting about this, because apparently we don’t know each other as well as I thought we did, because you’ve got it all wrong if you think any feelings you might have are one-sided.”
Bucky had never looked more like a deer caught in headlights as he did just then. “Huh?” was his eloquent response, because he honestly wasn’t capable of anything resembling an actual sentence at that point. “How, wait, what?” That wasn’t all that much better, but at least they were actual words if not yet a sentence.
“I have been in love with you since I was fourteen years old and you were cleaning cuts on my knuckles for the umpteenth time. You love me, you said so and you can’t take it back. So, we might as well get married – no be quiet Buck, I’m talking now – we might as well get married without the divorce-plans, so we can spend the rest of our lives together and you can stay in school.”
“How would it look if I accepted a proposal from a guy I only just started dating Steve?” Bucky replied with the dopiest grin Steve had ever seen on his face.
Sorry I’m a day late with this, I’m hoping to catch up :)
This is a drabble for the FYDL Drabble-a-thon Extravaganza! This is my first foray into the MCU, so any and all feedback is appreciated.
I’m linking to a Dutch charity called KiKa, it raises funds for childhood cancer research.
Prompt: 62%
Word count: 767
Pairing: Darcy Lewis/James Buchanan Barnes
62%
"You know the only reason he's doing that is because he cares right?" Her arms come around his waist and she lets her chin rest on his shoulder. He's been moping about Steve's hovering from the moment she'd managed to shove Steve out the door.
He doesn't mope while Steve's there because that'd only serve to increase the hovering, or so Bucky believes.
A little of the tension seems to drain from his shoulders at her touch, but his voice betrays him as he grumbles: "Yeah, well sometimes he should just care a little less". He's still methodically tending to one of his knives laid out in front of him on the kitchen counter and it doesn't look like he'll come out of his funk any time soon.
She still has hope to pull him out before the nights over though and she moves to his side, arms still around him but her hip now leaning against the counter. No use trying to talk him down if she can't carefully watch his face for any tells. It had taken a long time for him to trust her and if you'd told her six months ago that she, Darcy Lewis - lowly intern, would be hanging out with the former Assassin Super Soldier, she'd have laughed in your face. Loudly.
Nowadays she's around him most days he's in the tower, and she's one of the few people he allows to come close like this. She's a tactile person and though it'd taken a while she's found that touch actually calms him down. Ok, touch by people he trusts. Which basically comes down to just her and Steve really, but still.
"Ok," she continues, "so what would the right amount of caring be then?
"Would you be ok with 95 percent? Is that appropriate? Or... maybe you want him to dial it all the way down, give you a meager ten percent of Cap's Caring?"
He puts his knife down at that and grips the edge of the counter. "Come on Darce, you know I don't mean for him to stop caring, he's not wired that way.
"It's just- you know I'm doin so much better an he still hovers like I'm gonna explode every damn time somethin goes a little bit sideways"
At the Brooklyn coming out she decides to go in for the kill. Well, so to speak. Maybe she should find different analogies because thinking things like that will only lead to saying things like that and that would definitely throw a wrench in her plans of lightening the mood.
"I know sugar" she throws out in the most sickeningly sweet voice she can manage.
"Sugar?" He huffs out exasperatedly, "Really?"
"Ugh I know! But I'm gonna find an endearment that fits if it's the last thing I do. But for now, do you want me to run over to Steve's and ask him to tone it down to maybe a 62 percent?" She squeezes his waist and puts her chin back on his shoulder because he still hasn't let go of his tight grip on the counter. He turns his head to look at her now though, and suddenly he's so close she could count his eyelashes. You know, if she wasn't so distracted by how close he was.
"62 percent?" He asks.
"Yeah dude," she hopes comes out at least somewhat casually as she lifts her shoulder in a kind of half shrug, "I mean, you don't want him to stop caring, and slicing the caring in half also seems kinda rigorous. Toning it down just a tiny bit won't help and the guy's gotta learn to chill. So. 62 percent."
He's still looking at her, though she's doesn't notice because she's distracted by his mouth, which is curling up in a slow smile. He doesn't smile enough, she decides, the world could use more Bucky Barnes smiles.
"Alright doll, if you can get the punk to tone it down to 62 percent caring, that'll do for now. As long as I can keep your caring right where it's at right now."
So... This turned out to be way more Bucky-centric than a fic for something called the FuckYeahDarcyLewis Drabble-a-thon Extravaganza should be, but I’m hoping everyone will still enjoy it :)
Charity: Fuck Cancer, because I just really hate cancer.
Separation
He leans back against the wall of his cell. The T-shirt he's wearing is sticking to his skin from trying to punch his way out but the walls just won't budge. He doesn't know exactly what his cell is made of, but it seems his captors knew exactly who would be kept in it. It wouldn't have held up if they didn't.
"Hey" He hears her say. She sounds far away yet it's like she's right there, like they're only separated by the wall he's leaning against. "We'll be okay, we'll get through this."
His legs won't hold him anymore and he lets himself slide down until he's sitting, elbows on his knees. He sees his hands tremble in front of him, puts his head in his hands so they'll stop.
He wants to wrap her up in his arms and hold her close. The ache in his chest is nearly ripping him apart because he knows he's lost her. Even if they make it out of here, if Steve and the others can find them, he's lost her. He cannot keep up this thing they have. The only reason she's here is him.
If she hadn't been out with him.
If he could have just stayed away.
If he hadn't tried to be normal, just accepted he'd always be the Winter Soldier.
She'd be safe.
He wants to comfort her and let her know it'll be alright, but he knows it won't. He wants to talk to her, sit her down on his lap so he can warm her up – she's always cold, even at home on her couch she'll snuggle up to him to steal his warmth.
God he's gonna miss her. He already misses her, even if there's just one wall between them. He can hear her, she's saying his name. Her voice sounds like it used to, back when they'd only just met and she'd try to coax him out of his own head. Soft and careful, yet lacking the desperation he was used to hearing from Steve. Back when he'd trip down in his memories and couldn't find his way out.
What's she doing here, she shouldn’t be here. He's struggling to get up, but the clamps over his arms are keeping him down. He's in the chair and he can taste the plastic from the mouth guard they'd shove in his mouth right before they'd wipe him. His heart starts pounding, he shouldn't be hearing her voice in here, why is she here?!
He's cold all over, the window in the cryostasis chamber is fogging up and soon he'll be frozen again. He's not used to feeling so much when he's here, but now he can feel the fear rushing through him like red hot lava. Fear for Darcy, anger that they've gotten to her. He tries to smash the window but the door is suddenly gone and the momentum of his swing has him falling to his knees.
He's on his knees next to a bed. Darcy's voice is so much closer and clearer, she's still talking to him. The shiny hardwood floor confuses him before realization hits him.
He slumps down and leans his back against the bed, let's the heat from the fireplace wash over him and chase away the cold that's lingering in the back of his mind. Soft footsteps on the hardwood floors are coming to a stop right in front of him.
When he opens his eyes, he's greeted with the most amazing sight. There she is, dark hair tumbling down over one of his t-shirts above pajama shorts covered in little cartoon cupcakes. She smiles at him, but he can see the worry in her eyes. "You back with me?" Her voice sounds amazing when he can actually hear it without the fog of the nightmare obscuring it.
"Yeah, I'm here" he croaks out.
At his reassurance she kneels down next to him and he notices the wet washcloth in her hand. He lets his head fall back against the bed as she trails one hand through his hair and uses the other to wipe the washcloth over his face and neck.
Nightmares like this aren't very common anymore, and he can't say he's bothered by that. He'd rather not have them at all, but he's glad that nowadays she's right there when he wakes. The effects of the nightmares don't linger nearly as long with her chasing them away.
He's tried to talk her out of a relationship with him, often, but she always wins those arguments. Mostly he knows and accepts that she gets to choose the level of danger in her life and who she chooses to share her life with, but that doesn't mean he isn't scared. He knows that's where his nightmares come from, but he'll gladly wake up like he did just now as often as is necessary, if it means he gets to keep her.
So he relaxes against the bed, enjoys the cool washcloth as he lets his right hand reach out and brush over her thigh. Life ain't so bad, he thinks, with a girl like her by his side.
I’m really enjoying the FYDL Drabble-a-thon Extravaganza! Thanks @fuckyeahdarcylewis for doing this :)
Pairing: Darcy & Steve, (and kinda Darcy/Bucky)
Word count: 1148 (Let's pretend that's less than a thousand words ok? Ok!)
Prompt: Slow down
Trigger warning for panic attack/anxiety
Charity: I'm linking to the Medic One Foundation. The fact that my cousin is alive today is a result of the work this foundation does, I am very grateful to them and the paramedics they help train. The Foundation funds paramedic training for all Medic One providers in King County, as well as many communities throughout the region. Other Foundation-funded programs, such as patient care and research, benefit pre-hospital emergency care around the world through shared protocols and published research findings.
Story under the cut!
Slow down
The pounding of her heart almost drowns out her ragged breathing. It seems she's not actually taking any oxygen in though, because she's swaying on her feet, her hands are clammy and there are black spots dancing in front of her. Her brain isn't shutting down, even if it feels like her body. Her legs won't hold her up anymore and suddenly the floor is a lot closer than it was a second ago. In contrast to the muscles in her legs, her hands are balled up tight because apparently those muscles do still work; somewhere in the back of her brain she knows there's a stinging feeling on her palms where her nails are digging in. She tries to focus on that instead of the barrage of thoughts that won't stop circling her brain like a goddamn hurricane of fear and accusation.
"You did this, this is your fault" is circling right around "he's not coming back, he's never coming back because you. Didn't. Think."
Focusing on the stinging in her palms allows her to slowly open her fists and rub her palms over her jeans. As soon as sensations other than what's going on inside her head can get in again, the images on the TV screen in front of her send her right back into her own mind, "You're a distraction to him. He can't focus when he's worried about you. He's not coming back because you got him killed."
There are tears gathering in her eyes but she doesn't feel it as they make their way down her cheeks. Everything around her is muted again and she doesn't notice the door banging against the wall as it's kicked open and doesn't really register the guy now on his knees in front of her.
He'd been knocking on her door, but when she didn't open he tried to listen if she was even at home. He'd heard her gasping then. Terrified that somehow, they'd gotten to her, knew about her and Bucky, he'd kicked in her door and ran inside.
He sees her folded in on herself on the floor, shaking and gasping, but not registering that he's there.
Memories from before flood his brain, he can almost see himself hunched over on the floor, Bucky sitting behind him and his arms wrapped around his chest and stomach. Getting him to breathe along with every breath Bucky takes, almost through force of will alone. He remembers feeling so powerless, unable to even breathe. So done with always being the one that needed taking care of, never being able to take care of him in return.
But right here, right now, he can be the one to help Bucky. Do for Darcy what Bucky used to do for him. He turns off the TV because she doesn't need any more of those images in her head. He slides in behind Darcy then and wraps his arms around her. He starts talking, hoping some of it will get through because he doesn't need another friend in the infirmary today. "He's fine, he'll make it, breathe for me Darce, you gotta take a real breath for me."
She's shaking in his arms and while he's still muttering he doesn't even know what into her ear, it's like all the tension suddenly releases and a heartbreaking sob fights its way out of her throat.
"Please baby doll, he's okay, it's okay, take a breath. Slow down, it's gonna be okay but you gotta slow down for me Darce" the gravel in his voice surprises him even if it shouldn't. His eyes are burning and he's got a hard time keeping his own sobs at bay. His nerves were already shot by the time he got to her apartment, because up until an hour ago he'd been thinking what must be playing through Darcy's head right now.
He hadn't realized the entire fight downtown had been broadcast live thanks to some idiot reporter he hadn't spotted in a nearby building who didn't evacuate as he should have. Filming the Avengers fighting in the streets should not be more important than personal safety, but time and again people proved to be idiots. He should have expected this. He should have come to her sooner, should have known she could follow the entire thing on the TV.
"He's... He's alive? But- No I saw him go down Steve, and he didn't get up!" Her voice is hoarse and so desperately heartbroken he can't help but squeeze her a little tighter as he's mentally hitting himself for not noticing the reporter, for not realizing-
He'd been preoccupied though, thinking his best and oldest friend was dead. Again. Because Hydra had gotten their hands on new armor piercing bullets and even the serum couldn't raise the dead. Miraculously none of the bullets had hit Bucky's heart or head or anything that wouldn't heal fast enough and even if he'd have to be in the infirmary longer than usual he'd make a full recovery.
Telling himself he can kick himself later, he reassures her again. "He's fine. Well, he's pissed about getting shot and having to take it easy for a while, but he'll live."
"Oh god Steve I thought-"
"I know" he interrupts her before she can say it. Her breathing is steadier now even if her tears are still steadily rolling down her cheeks. "I know, but he's not. He's good, he really is."
She lets out a breath that feels like it took a whole trunk of worry with it.
"Want to head up to medical with me so you can see for yourself?"
She leans back against him, most of the tension draining out of her now that she no longer believes he's dead. Her hands come up to scrub over her face again as she says, "Yeah, that sounds so good. Just, give me a second so I can get up and walk myself over there."
He sighs and leans back against the wall behind him. She settles against his chest as he presses a kiss to the top of her head. "Sure thing doll, we got time. He's okay."
Still 0 words for Nano, but at least some words are flowing again.
Another scribble, this time I'm feeling English again ;)
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I live my life without a purpose. No goal to distract me from living life. So long I was building towards this idea, that life would be worth living, if only, if only. The goal was a relationship. A house, a home, kids and a family. Everything I did was to achieve this goal, so I could succeed in this game called life. I held on to this relationship, with both hands gripping tight, terrified to let it slip. I couldn't let it go, even though I wasn't happy, even though it was unhealthy. Letting go would mean I'd failed, missed the goal, lost the purpose. He made me let go, I've got the scar tissue in my soul to prove it. Now I don't have a goal, I don't have a purpose. All I do is live my life. And finally I'm happy.
I was feeling Dutch today, so my apologies to the international crowd. Who knows, maybe I'll translate it one day. It's nothing special, just some scribbles that I liked enough to post.
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De wereld houdt niet op. Het maakt niet uit wat je doet, hij blijft draaien en doorgaan. Mensen om je heen lopen door, gaan ergens naartoe of komen ergens vandaan maar ze gaan door. Ze stoppen niet. Waarom zouden ze, hun leven is daar waar ze waren of waar ze heen gaan. De tijd daar tussenin kan ze niks schelen. Ik zou willen zeggen dat dat is waar ik woon. Dat ik leef voor die momenten tussenin. De reis van en naar bestemmingen is mijn ultieme doel. Het geeft niet waar ik vandaan kom en mijn bestemming is onbekend. Nu ben ik gelukkig, op die plek daar tussen in.
If you can’t hear the thunder (there ain’t no storm) - Chapter two
Notes:
I wanted to get this up the weekend before last, but that might have been slightly too ambitious. I had significantly more trouble writing this chapter than last, not quite sure why but I hope you guys will like it anyway!
I'd love to hear what you think!
Read chapter two on AO3
Read it from the start on AO3
Chapters: 2/?
Fandom: Arrow (TV 2012)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Tommy Merlyn & Felicity Smoak, Tommy Merlyn & Oliver Queen, Felicity Smoak & Original Female Character(s)
Characters: Felicity Smoak, Tommy Merlyn, Oliver Queen, Original Female Character(s)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Eventual Romance, Angst, Friendship
Chapter two
“Congratulations on your resurrection”
What the hell was she thinking?! She wasn't, that was probably the problem. But instead of the brush off or anger she was expecting, she noticed a slight uptick of his mouth right before she saw the shutters come down over his eyes again.
He didn’t seem to have changed all that much. His always so easy smile didn’t appear as easy as it used to, but he looked to be the same Tommy she remembered. She wasn’t quite sure whether this was a good thing or a bad thing.
She pushed the inside of her wrist to her forehead, willing anymore stray thoughts to stay inside her head. “Can we… Can we not do this now?”
She let out a sigh as she walked over to the chair across from where he sat at his desk and took a seat. The few rays of sunshine that managed to escape through the clouds broke in the raindrops that hadn’t yet evaporated and were still stuck to the wall of windows behind his desk. Because of this, little rainbows played on the papers that Tommy had been working on while she had been waiting to be let into the office.
Other than the pile of paperwork, she only saw a phone, stapler and several pens – neatly held together in a generic black pencil holder – on his desk. The pieces of art on the only two walls that weren’t made up of glass, were both abstracts done in different shades of blue. In one corner of the office stood a conference table that only held a carafe and stack of water glasses while the small filing cabinet in the other corner didn’t have anything displayed on its flat surface.
Neither had a single speck of dust on them.
If he hadn’t been sitting right there at his desk she wouldn’t have been able to guess this was his office, even though she knew he’d been working here for longer than she’d been at QC.
“You know, Felicity, you were the one that never wanted to speak to me again, not the other way around.” His eyes, usually so bright, were just pools of darkness now. It was like she was looking through the surface of a cool, still lake.
That’s something that was different about him, she thought, he didn’t used to be this cut off. Not even during the quiet talks in the middle of the night, when he would show up at her doorstep because his dad had once again earned his father-of-the-year award. You know if it was given to someone who had the least resemblance to an actual father figure. It was a running gag between them, a little gallows humor to lighten the darkness of those nights.
Or it used to be.
Even then, his eyes had held emotion, be it anger, sadness or this specific kind of hopelessness, built through years of missed soccer games, birthdays and other events a boy wants his father to attend, his eyes could speak volumes. Now, they were just as cold as the office he occupied; an office in his dad’s company.
“I... Yeah, I know.” She let her eyes drop to her hands and noticed a smudge of mascara on the side of her thumb. As she tried to wipe it off she continued “But you know that applies to our personal lives, maybe we could just-” She looked up then, focused her eyes on the lines between his eyebrows “maybe if we could just focus on the work we’re supposed to be doing …?”
She managed to clear away the smudge on the side of her thumb and did a quick check to see if she’d missed more mascara that always seemed to mysteriously make its way onto her hands – nope, all clear.
“Felicity-” His voice was softer than she expected it to be.
She looked up then, unable to avoid his eyes any longer. God those eyes-, did she make a mistake, cutting him out of her life? No, that’s not why she was here; she had a job to do.
He looked as conflicted as she felt, though she couldn’t be sure because she wasn’t able to read him as easily as she used to.
Just as soon as she thought this, she could see his demeanor change, the way she used to see when his father walked into the room. His shoulders squared, his chin tilted down just a little and his brows drew closer together causing the lines between them to deepen. When he looked up at her from beneath his eyebrows she realized with a start that she must have caused this reaction, because they were still the only two people in the room.
“You’re right,” was followed by what she thought was a scoffed ‘of course’ under his breath, “we’re just here together right now for the project. So, let’s talk business. How are the changes I last spoke about with your predecessor fitting into the project?”
And just like that, she was able to dive into work, her area of expertise, so much more logical than feelings and emotions. The realization that she now apparently evoked the same defense mechanism in him as his father did was something she would deal with later, preferably with a glass of red wine and when he wasn’t in the same room.
After the difficult start, the meeting had actually gone better than she had anticipated. They were able to work through a few kinks that had arisen due to the last minute changes he had insisted on, some she just thought were a waste of time and others that she knew she would probably have brought up herself had she been involved in the project earlier on.
The awkwardness returned full force however by the time they were wrapping up. It hadn’t completely left at any time during the meeting, but at least it was relatively easy to keep up the professionalism while working. By the time they were saying goodbye neither really knew what to do.
They both stood up and Tommy walked her to the glass door of the office, and had the meeting been with anyone else they would have shaken hands and made a reference to the next meeting.
Instead they just stood there, because when you’ve known each other for years but have become estranged, what do you do? Do you hug? No, they weren’t on good enough terms for that, nowhere even approaching good actually. Do you just shake hands? Probably the best idea. Or do you give an awkward wave and stumble over your own feet trying to get away as fast as possible from an awkward meeting? Not the smoothest option, but apparently what her body decided to go with.
Right. Way to not make things more awkward then they already are.
He caught her elbow just before she was about to careen into the doorjamb. She had barely righted herself before he pulled his arm back like he’d been burned and stalked back past the conference table and got behind his desk. She heard the wheels of his office chair on the carpet as she walked through the door, avoiding the jamb this time, and as she looked back – just once – right before she was about to round a corner she could see him hunched over his desk, eyes focused solely back on his paperwork.
Glad she wouldn’t need to get back to her office she briefly considered getting a cab and heading home. She let her aching head fall back when she stepped outside and took in the fresh air that always seemed to follow a flash storm like the one from that afternoon. Letting out the first easy breath from that day, her feet took her away from the offices of Merlyn Global and she followed them easily.
Walking aimlessly through the city seemed like the thing to do. She was already wearing her flats so her feet wouldn’t suffer if she walked around for a while. She had a crick in her neck from the stressful meeting where she had gazed at her tablet more intently than was usual for her – which was saying something – and she had no idea what she was feeling, because there was just so much going on inside her head and heart.
She wasn’t all that familiar with the area surrounding MG, but she figured she’d just order a cab when she felt like heading home. After about ten minutes of aimlessly wandering she came across a small park with a couple swings and a slide. It was relatively quiet in the park; most kids had probably been chased inside during that afternoon’s storm.
The swings seemed like a perfect spot to let her thoughts run away with her without having to pay attention to her surroundings. Her head just wouldn’t shut down; the meeting that afternoon kept playing in her mind. He wasn’t wrong when he said she was the one to sever all ties. Ever since, she’d gone back and forth between being absolutely confident it had been the right thing to do and completely petrified it would turn out to be the biggest mistake she’d ever make.
From the moment she knew she would have to speak to him, meet with him regarding this deal, she was confident in her decision. As soon as she had seen him sitting in his office all the doubt had come flooding back in; it was a miracle she had made it through the meeting with just minor awkwardness. Ok, so it wasn’t exactly minor, but it could have been so much worse.
Truth of the matter is she misses him. So damn much. He was her best friend, the one she could talk to about everything and anything and he always managed to make a hard day lighter just by being Tommy. It's just that, stuff happened. She didn't trust him anymore with her secret thoughts, thoughts that weren't all that secret around him usually, because they just came spilling out of her mouth without her permission.
She didn't trust herself to keep her thoughts to herself around him, and she didn't trust him with those thoughts. In her mind that meant there was only one thing she could do, to protect herself, to not get hurt again, she couldn't see him anymore. And what better time to sever all ties than right after a huge fight where you already made clear not to want to see the other person ever again.
But god she wants to trust him, because she misses her best friend. She just doesn't know how anymore. How do you build trust when it has been broken so thoroughly?
Well, not by ignoring the guy even exists.
She'd managed to keep that particular voice quiet the last few weeks, but after seeing him it wasn't whispering in the back of her mind anymore. It was shouting at the top of its lungs; hard to keep ignoring.
Her butt was getting cold from sitting on the swing and she wasn't having any luck in quieting the voice that was arguing with her common sense. Might as well just head home and be warm and comfy on her couch with a well deserved Merlot and her Netflix queue.
She exited the park and walked back towards a slightly busier street to see if she could catch a cab without having to call for one. Side-stepping several puddles along the way, she managed to snag a cab without much trouble; seems like her luck got turned around as soon as she finished the dreaded meeting.
With a jolt she remembered her bout of bad luck from this morning. It already felt so long ago that she’d walked out the door and had locked herself out. She wouldn't be able to get in the door without swinging by Naomi's. With a groan she let her head fall back against the seat of the cab and told the cabby about the change in direction. It's not that she didn't want to see Naomi, she did. She just really didn't feel like explaining why she was in such a mood right now.
She could either just go with 'stressful day at the office' or with the more accurate 'you don't know this but over a year ago I cut the best friend I ever had out of my life and today I had to spend over an hour discussing business with him without breaking down' and she didn’t really think she could pull the first option off.
As far as she knew Naomi wasn’t aware she had ever been friends with Tommy in the first place and by the time Felicity thought she could talk about it with Naomi it had been too long. Naomi would either question why she hadn’t told her sooner or why she was bringing it up now. So she’d decided just to never bring it up, figuring it wouldn’t be a problem considering she never planned on crossing paths with Tommy Merlyn again.
She was fidgeting in her seat by the time the cab rolled up to her old apartment building. She wiped her hands on her skirt before reaching in her wallet and paying the cabby the fare and a nice tip; not every cabby was willing to drive through the Glades these days. She waved to the local boys hanging out on the steps of the building before heading inside.
Before moving to the townhouse on the edge of the Glades she’d lived here for years and she’d helped several of these boys out before, by getting their ancient laptops to run again at a huge discount and sometimes for free. They needed the computers for schoolwork and she’d felt a lot safer walking between the tiny workshop she’d opened up and her apartment when these boys escorted her on the walk.
Jogging up the flights of stairs to the third floor she decided she was now desperately in need of a shower. After running from the rain this afternoon and now running up the stairs, she felt altogether filthy. She made her way over to the door with the big ‘3-D’ on it, taking slow and measured steps through the hallway, hoping it would calm her racing heart a little.
She pushed the stray hairs that had gotten loose from her ponytail out of her face before knocking on the door three times in quick succession, slow breath, one more knock. She still felt silly doing that, but it made Naomi feel better knowing who was at the door without having to ask through a closed door.
She took another breath, plastering a smile on her face in the hopes that Naomi wouldn’t immediately see through her. It was a long shot, but maybe she could pretend to be ok so she could just process by herself tonight, before having to divulge the entire story to Naomi. She was too drained to want to relive it all tonight.
The door flew open “Hey y-, oh, hi Felicity! Didn’t know you were coming over?” Naomi exclaimed slightly breathless.
“Eh, well we didn’t have plans but… I locked myself out? Just thought I’d swing by and get my spare from you? Are you ok?” She watched as Naomi’s bronze cheeks got a slight red flush and her lips stretched in a slightly wider than usual grin.
“I’m fine! Perfect really, stay right there I’ll get your keys.”
Before Felicity had time to realize she hadn’t been invited into her friend’s apartment, said friend was back at the door, keys in hand.
“Here you go; Friday night drinks tomorrow? I’ll explain everything!”
“Sure, bring your own cider though; I don’t keep that stuff stocked.” Felicity’s smile was a lot more real now. It didn’t take a lot of effort to smile when your friend was so obviously happy.
“Don’t worry I will, I’ll even bring you a bottle of red. We’ve got a lot to discuss!” She waggled her eyebrows and the grin never left her face.
“I can see that,” Felicity replied “you didn’t even realize it was me at the door when I used my special knock and everything! Is this how you start forgetting me? Are you replacing me with someone better?”
“Never! I am however not finished getting ready for my big date with the person that’s definitely not replacing you, so scram woman!”
Felicity threw her hands up in the air as she started walking away. “Fine, fine, I know when I’m unwanted. I’ll just go home all by my lonesome.”
“Love you!” Naomi yelled just before she turned the corner to the stairwell and she heard the door of the apartment getting slammed shut. Naomi never was one for quiet and subtlety.
With a genuine smile on her face – in part because of her happy friend and admittedly also in part because Naomi had been so distracted she hadn’t noticed Felicity’s sullen mood – she slowly started descending the stairs and got out her phone to call yet another cab. She really needed to get her car fixed, because these cabs were putting a serious dent in her already tight budget.
Keys in hand and a cab on the way, she could finally head home and wallow with some comfort food and that glass of Merlot she’d been looking forward to pretty much since she’d seen Tommy sitting behind his desk, seemingly completely focused on his paperwork.
NOTE: I started writing this a while ago, decided to post it here. I want to write more, so I’m going to push myself a little by just putting this out there.
It’s eventually going to be a Bellarke story, I’m not quite sure yet how long you’ll have to wait for that to happen though! I’ve got about 3000 words written so far and they are nowhere near even meeting yet... It’s a modern AU and the rating is probably ‘General Audiences’, I mean, they’ll probably swear at some point so maybe it should be higher? I don’t know. I first posted some of my writing yesterday and I haven’t ever really thought about the rating for my own stuff before, so yeah, I’ll change the rating when I find a good reason for it or if someone asks me to.
Let me know what you think!!
Chapter one
The sun was beating down on her bare shoulders, causing rivulets of sweat to stream down between her shoulder blades. Her heavy backpack pressed her tank top to her back, which is why it was now damp and sticky from soaking up the sweat that had made it down.
She was tired; she’d been travelling for days, carrying as much of her belongings as she could in her backpack. She felt like it got heavier with every single step she took, but she wouldn’t give in, wouldn’t give up. Because she was free.
She had gotten on the bus before sunrise that morning thinking she’d get as much travelling time out of the day as was humanly possible. But she’d had enough of the bus after just a few hours, the heat and humidity making it one of the least comfortable places to be, so when they drove through a small town near the ocean she just thought ‘what the hell’ and asked the bus driver to pull over and let her out.
It turned out it wasn’t as easy as that, he ignored her, muttering about how ‘this wasn’t a stop on the route and kids these days needed to learn about fixed schedules’ and ‘you can’t always get what you want when you want it little lady’. So she’d started making gagging noises and in between coughs uttered words like ‘motion sickness’ and ‘is the road spinning’ and ‘oh god I shouldn’t have eaten that breakfast burrito this morning’.
In a matter of minutes she was standing on the side of the road, about a mile past the town she’d thought looked cute enough to stay for a while. It was a small town near the ocean. She figured she could stay there for as long as it took to get her life up and running again.
Who would look for her there? If she was lucky she’d find a job, maybe a temporary place to stay, anything would be better than what she left right?
It didn’t take her long to figure out she wasn’t very lucky.
The problem with small towns was that there really weren’t that many jobs just lying around. She’d walked around the entire town without finding a single ‘help wanted’-sign. Twice.
There was a motel on the edge of town, so at least for tonight she’d have a roof over her head. If need be she could probably afford one or two more nights there, but if she didn’t find a way to scrounge up a little more cash, she didn’t know what the hell she was supposed to do. Maybe she should have thought this through a little better. But really, who thinks things through in the middle of the night after the biggest fight you’ve ever had in your whole life with the person you thought was supposed to love you forever? Nobody.
Well, maybe less hot-headed people would. Anyway, who cares, she’s free. Yeah, free to starve or die of heatstroke she thought sourly. No! She’d succeed, she’d show him she could take care of herself just fine, she didn’t need him for that.
Maybe for now she could just take a break from finding a job for a couple minutes, watch the ocean for a little while to clear her head. She walked the couple blocks down towards the ocean; she could already smell the salt in the air.
As she walked (or stumbled really) onto the beach, she noticed it wasn’t very busy thank god. There were just a few families with little children and what seemed like a couple enjoying a romantic stroll along the shoreline. She plopped down on the sand heavily and pulled out her bottle of water.
After a few sips (gulps) she tugged the button down shirt she’d tied around her hips off and used it to wipe away the sweat on her face and neck. Feeling at least marginally better, she noticed how the couple maybe wasn’t a couple at all. Or if they were, they were a weird couple.
They weren’t holding hands, they weren’t really touching at all actually, there must have been several feet separating them at all times. The guy looked frustrated while the girl just looked sort of sad and resigned. They were swerving away from the shoreline now, it seemed they were headed towards town.
As they got closer to where she was sitting, she noticed the guy was doing most of the talking and it seemed he was trying hard not to start yelling, even if he was talking loud enough already that she could hear every word he said.
“I don’t know how to talk to you anymore! Everything I say, whatever it is, you’ll just say ok and alright. It’s like you’ve checked out of everything, you can’t go on like this, you can see that right? You need help and I’m not just talking about the café.” The girl stopped walking at that. They were quite close to her now and she didn’t mean to eavesdrop.
It’s just, they were right there and she’d have to put her fingers in her ears as to not hear what they were saying. The girl glared at the guy and he seemed almost happy about that. “I do not need help Wells! I’m doing fine on my own – no don’t interrupt, you wanted me to talk, so listen! – I’m doing fine, maybe not good, definitely not great, but fine none the less. Stop acting like I’m some sort of porcelain doll that’s about to break. I’m stronger than you seem to think, just because that douchebag..” the girl seemed to suddenly realize she was basically yelling about her personal life in front of perfect strangers at the beach, because she glanced around and finished her sentence in an angry whisper that could only be heard by the guy.
The guy - Wells? - scoffed and rolled his eyes as he started walking again, passing her sitting there on his way towards town. “You know this isn’t just about him Clarke, don’t you think more important things have happened in these last couple of months?” The girl hadn’t started walking with him, so he turned around to face her again. “At least hire someone at the café.” He said somewhat resignedly. “You know the guys and I love you and we’ll pitch in whenever we can like we have for the last month, but you can’t run the café on your own with just us dropping in when we can. You need more structural help.”
Her ears perked up at that, maybe she was lucky after all, and she stopped trying not to eavesdrop. But the girl looked down at her shoes a little deflated and replied “I can’t afford a full-time waitress, you know that. And before you say it, I’m not calling her! She’ll just take it as proof I can’t keep the café running on my own and tell me to get my ass back to school and just give up this silly little fantasy of mine. And I’m NOT doing that!”
As she was talking the volume of her voice had started rising again and the guy held his hands up as if he was surrendering. “I wasn’t going to suggest that, I know you better than that. But maybe you could just talk to her sometime, she”, “Wells!” If looks could kill, the girl would soon be charged with murder, she thought.
“I was just gonna say she misses you! You don’t have to talk about the café, just let her know you’re still alive!” The girl was fuming now. From her front-row seat at this street-theater - or beach theater really - she could almost see the smoke coming out of the girls ears. “She misses me?! You guys talk about me a lot do you? You know what, maybe you should go see her right now, while you still have this conversation fresh in your memory and you can reiterate it word for word to her! Who knows, maybe she’ll even put in a good word for you with your attending! God I thought you were my friend, not her spy.”
All the fight seemed to have left her at those words and she let herself collapse to the beach. “Just leave me alone Wells, I’ve got less than an hour left before I have to get back and I’d like to enjoy it in peace.”
He seemed so sad, looking at the girl in front of him with those big brown puppy dog eyes. “Clarke, I am your friend, first and foremost, but you know I can’t avoid her at work.” When the girl didn’t respond but just looked out over the ocean, he stepped in her line of sight. “Clarke...” She saw the girl lift her shoulders up to her ears and then release them, sighing “Please Wells, really, just… just leave.” He crouched down next to her and squeezed her shoulder. “Fine, I’ll leave you alone for now. But I’ll call you tomorrow morning, right after my shift ok?” The girl didn’t respond. The guy squeezed her shoulder once more before he stood up and started walking towards town again.
