today (on Smoker's birthday, coincidentally) i watched ep 6 of the One Piece liveaction series and was both surprised and elated to realize the liveaction props department gave Smoker's "Billower Bike" enough seating for two people (also that thing isn't a bike, it's a trike, get it right)
i have some scenes planned for —There's Fire that involve the bike and, more specifically, Noa hitching a ride on it, but the manga/anime made it seem like i'd need to add a sidecar to accommodate her (otherwise she'd have to sit on Smoker's lap, which...not an unpleasant thought LMAO but that's very unrealistic in the formal attire she typically wears)
see below: the manga and anime only give the bike one gigantic upholstered seat...Smoker rides alone!
but the liveaction props folks i guess decided that one seat was, perhaps, unrealistic when porting the bike into real life, and they incorporated two seats AND a luggage rack:
they blessed me with multiple angles of the liveaction interpretation of this bad boy, including a top-down view...i'm eatin' good!
one of my favorite things about this liveaction adaptation in particular is the attention paid to props and costuming...it can be extremely difficult to write a story that feels realistic when it's based on an anime series that routinely defies physics, and this adaptation provides a window into worldbuilding details that can make a fanfic feel much more lived-in and grounded if incorporated properly...i'm already feeling like future chapters of —There's Fire will benefit from the injection of realism OPLA gave to Smoker this season!
Summary: All this time together and with a friendship finally growing, it's no wonder you're starting to feel a little... confused. But what you're feeling can't really be real, can it? (Chapter 4)
Word count: 6.5k
Warnings: Definitely some swearing. A light dab of angst in the form of confused feelings and anxious overthinking. References to criminal activity and human trafficking. Fluff. One of the reader's favorite candies is one of mine, my apologies if you actually hate them!
A/N: Here we are the fourth and final part, I hope you like it! Thank you for sticking with me everyone! Just a note, as before there are some time jumps between scenes that hopefully make sense as you read it. Thank you my darling @jbarneswilson for beta'ing and to @firefly-graphics for her always amazing dividers. And thank you to my tiny taglist for this story: @vicmc624 and @emmabarnes
Series masterlist: You Still Get Burned
Why is it that you can’t get your brain to remember useful things like your goddaughter’s birthday or the password for your email, but it will- very unhelpfully and not at all at your behest- keep a perfect count of the exact number of physical encounters you have with what you are sure is your completely oblivious partner in the weeks since the first time he touched you?
And why does it have to set off warning bells every single fucking time it happens? Setting off an internal reaction that threatens to break down not only your years of operative training, but also potentially endangers your active mission by throwing you off balance and forcing you to muster every ounce of your strength to not turn into an anxious and simpering mess when it does?
You sit down hard on your bed with an angry huff. You reach for a pillow and fold yourself in half over your lap as you scream into it. After a long minute, you flop backwards, spent but no less annoyed.
What the fuck is wrong with you? Have you lost all sense and completely forgotten how to do your job?
It happened. Again. And this time you really had no one to blame but yourself, because you absolutely started it.
Sitting on the edge of the pool side-by-side, with your feet dangling in the water, you and Barnes watched as the more daring of your neighbors tried to outdo one another in some sort of cannonball version of "horse".
You nearly choked on the beer you were drinking when Tom- one of the neighbors who you actually genuinely liked- attempted some complicated dance move that ended with him landing in a painfully flat belly flop.
Overcome with genuine laughter and clearly not thinking properly, you leaned. Sideways. Into Barnes.
Just to be closer to him.
As soon as you realized what you’d done, your brain got to work trying to rationalize it.
At this point, Lena’s habits were so second nature to you, you barely even had to think about it anymore. And of course, Lena would want to be closer to her husband, they were in love weren’t they?
But your rationality only held out in the face of truth for so long. Because you knew, you knew, you didn’t do it because it was what Lena would have done. Because for some insane reason, in that moment- albeit unconsciously- you wanted it. Wanted to be close to him. Wanted to share that moment of joy with him, that unspoken intimacy. A revelation accompanied by a series of complex acrobatics by your insides.
And to make matters worse, when he squeezed you close to him in response and pressed his warm lips against your temple, you felt something. A decidedly unprofessional, un-Lena, something. Only by the sheer force of your will, honed by years of training, did you stop yourself from bolting from the party right then and there.
Though you managed to keep it together for those around you, Barnes could tell that something had happened. He kept eying you the rest of the night. He was cautious enough that no one else picked up on his worried and confused look, but you knew. You would have known even if you hadn’t caught him looking. His gaze was burned into your back.
To make matters worse, when you got home that evening, instead of politely ignoring your descent into insanity, he had the audacity to check in on you.
“Are you okay? You seemed… off earlier.”
One of the more annoying side effects of dismantling the once impenetrable walls between the two of you was the discovery that Barnes was very astute, sometimes unnervingly so, especially when it came to his ability to pick up on your subtle changes and to suss out when your mood was shifting.
However, it seemed that he hadn’t yet learned when it would have been far better for him to have just kept his mouth shut about it.
As you keep yourself occupied by pulling wet towels from your swim bag, a task that in this exact moment requires a surprising amount of your attention, the wheels churn wildly in your mind.
You know that the easiest way to shut down this line of inquiry is to shut him out. All you have to do is say something sharp and at least a little mean and he'll retreat.
But you won’t. Because you know that no matter how confused you feel, you don’t really want that. You like this fragile friendship too much to just blow it up. Even if you do think it might save you a lot of pain in the long run.
You smile tiredly and decide to offer him a half truth.
"Yeah, I'm sorry. I just- I guess I'm just getting a little bit tired." You grimace apologetically. "All this suburbia is getting to me a little, I think."
You try to laugh it off, but the worried line in his brow only deepens.
Suddenly hit with an anxious thought, you're quick to offer reassurances.
"I'm sorry, I will get it together. I'm not going to endanger our mission."
His expression softens and he tilts his head sympathetically.
"I know. I know you won't. I'm not worried about that. I'm-" he pauses and his eyes dart away for a moment before settling once again on your face- "I just want to make sure you're okay. And- that we're okay."
Your chest squeezes and the smile you'd been forcing slips away. You watch him and think about how far the two of you have come and how very clear it is to you now that you’re not the only one worried that it could all fall apart.
Your smile may be small and a little sad when you find it again, but at least this time it's real. You hold his eye for a long moment before reaching out a hand and very deliberately placing it on his shoulder.
“Yeah,” you say with a gentle squeeze, your proof to him that you mean what you say, your proof to yourself that you really can control whatever this thing is that's going on with you. "We're okay. I'm sorry if I made you think otherwise."
He shakes off your apology with a soft smile, then raises a cautious brow.
"And you? Are you okay?"
"I’m okay.”
Pulling your hand back, you let your smile turn playful.
"I think I just need a long shower and to blast some- oh I don't know- punk rock? To clear my head of all thoughts about yoni eggs and Instagram and mid-level marketing schemes from my mind."
He dips his head with a laugh and the tension in his posture eases away.
"Fair enough. I'll leave you to it then."
Maybe punk rock really does help.
Because somewhere between “God Save the Queen” and “I Wanna be Sedated” you found new resolve.
As the spray washed over you, the realization finally hit that refusing to acknowledge that you were in fact feeling...something was doing you no good.
Hopping out of the shower, you wipe away the condensation from the mirror and settle in to have a little chat with yourself in front of the bathroom vanity.
You tell yourself- quite convincingly you might add- that okay, yes, you are in fact feeling… a thing.
But.
It is nothing.
Nothing more than an effect of the mission. A reasonably common one in fact. It is not at all unusual for undercover agents- especially after several months deep under- to start to get a little confused. For the lines between themselves and their legends to blur. And okay, sure, you aren’t feeling especially Lena-like in any other way- you still hate maple syrup lattes just as much as you always did- but that doesn’t mean that this isn’t the influence of Lena on you. And given how emotionally fraught your relationship with him had been all along it just makes sense, doesn't it? All that energy that you once spent hating each other had to go somewhere, didn’t it?
With a deep breath, you remind yourself that you know who you are. That has not changed. And this… complication… it is something you can sort out when the mission is over.
Until then, you will just keep reminding yourself that, while yes, you do have... feelings... for him, they aren’t really real. So, all you have to do is make sure you don't do something supremely stupid- like oh say, kissing him when you are alone- and you’ll be fine.
You can handle that, can’t you? You’d survived torture and interrogation training, hadn’t you? This should be nothing by comparison, you remind yourself with a stern look in the mirror.
And afterwards, once the mission is done and you are home again, you are sure that these annoying and confusing feelings will go away all on their own.
With a final hard nod at yourself in the mirror, you turn away. You know what you need to do and you are going to do it.
And if- you tell yourself dismissively- you give yourself permission to enjoy it while it lasts… well, that is between you and your reflection and nobody else.
You rest your chin on his shoulder and his heart beat kicks up so quickly that it takes him a full minute to make out that you're trying to talk to him. The rush of blood in his ears had drowned out your soft voice. The slow music coming from the speakers as you sway together on the dance floor isn’t helping either.
"Sorry, what was that?" He asks.
You pull back to look into his face and he curses himself because he already misses the contact.
"You okay, Barnesy?" Your low voice is teasing but he can feel the genuine concern behind it.
He doesn’t like when you’re worried about him. Or he does- he likes that you care- he just doesn’t ever want to be the cause of distress for you.
He smiles and shakes his head.
“I’m good, only a little lost in thought. What were you trying to say?”
You hold his eye a little while longer, before you shift your gaze back over his shoulder. To his great relief you rest your chin there once more.
"Nothing really important. I just- I'm just watching Gloria and it's-" he can't see your face but he knows that you're biting your lip, you always do when you think. He knows you only dare to talk about this here because the music and the slow dance give you a little bubble where no one will overhear you. Still, something must be bothering you for you to even bring up mission talk in public.
"It's just what?" He tucks his chin down and murmurs quietly into the space behind your ear.
You sigh, somewhere between fatigue and annoyance.
"I guess I just don't understand it… how people can be that awful. I’ve been in this job for a long time so I shouldn’t be surprised, but still.” You keep your voice low but it turns tight with disgust. “She destroys people's lives with her dirty business and then comes here, queen of the school charity gala, and acts like she's some great savior."
You feel tense in his arms, the heat of anger bubbling just below the surface. He rubs small, soothing circles where his hand rests on your low back and feels you start to relax.
"I know what you mean. But she won't be doing that much longer."
You let out a breath and he feels the tension ease away even more.
"No, she won't. I'm glad Sam gave us the go ahead to close this thing out."
"Yeah," he replies lightly, carefully.
He's glad too. He is. The same as you. Gloria Roman, despite the saintly mask she puts on for the masses, is one of the worst humans outside of Hydra that he's ever had the displeasure of interacting with. She treats humans like commodities, only worth what she can sell them for and disposable once that dollar value gets too low. She needs to be stopped and with her in custody, your team will stand a very fair chance of bringing down the larger network of scumbags just like her that she works with.
He's grateful that you've finally been given the green light to make your final preparations to bring her in.
He just- he’s not sure he’s ready for this to end. Because he doesn’t know what waits for you on the other side, but he knows that he won’t get to hold you like this anymore. Not even for pretend.
You sigh and turn your head so that your cheek now rests on his shoulder. He can feel your breath on his throat and goosebumps prickle up the length of his neck.
Carefully, he adjusts his hold on you. He brings your hand that he holds to his shoulder and settles it there, then brings his own hand down to meet his other at your waist. And you let him. You don’t even seem surprised. You simply let your fingers curl into the edge of his collar at the back of his neck.
You sway together to the music without speaking. After several heartbeats, your soft voice breaks hesitantly into the quiet.
“I don’t-” you start, unsure, but try again. “When we go back- after this is over- I don’t want things to go back to the way they were. With us.” You breath in a deep breath, then rush on quietly. “I feel like it’s going to be uncomfortable. Everyone is going to have something to say about how much things have changed with us.” You let out an annoyed huff. “Everyone’s going to have a joke. They’re going to be as annoying as they possibly can be.”
He snorts a laugh.
“Oh god, they’re going to be such assholes.”
He can hear the laugh in your voice for just a moment before your tone turns solemn.
“I don’t like being uncomfortable or the center of everyone’s attention. It makes me- well, I get kind of bitchy, if I’m honest- and withdrawn. And I- I just don’t want- if it does go like that and I do start to act like that- I don’t want you to think it’s about you. I don’t want there to be any more misunderstanding between us. I know you better now. And I like being friends with you too much to let things go back to the way we were.”
You let out a long breath, the weight of thinking too long about this.
His chest feels tight. He knows how you feel. It’s what he’s afraid of too.
He tucks his chin down, letting his cheek brush lightly against yours. He squeezes you gently.
“I don’t want that to happen either. Let’s agree that no matter how awkward it gets or how huge of assholes everyone is, we won’t take it out on each other. We won’t lose this- good thing… that we’ve got going on.”
You nod against his cheek.
“Deal.”
A gentle chiming starts up and you lift your head to watch the large mirrored ball at the center of the room start it’s descent.
The theme of the charity gala is “New Beginnings” and Gloria and her planning committee leaned heavily into a classy, New Year’s in July vibe. Everything is done up in black and white, accented in gold and silver. Champagne flutes and high end hors devours set the tone for elegance and the gentle chiming of a midnight bell takes the place of the countdown roar that usually accompanies the traditionally more raucous celebration.
That doesn’t stop people from giving a bright cheer when the ball finally lands and sets off a series of sparklers. You turn to him with a laugh and a roll of your eyes when you hear someone in the crowd shout “huzzah!”
He laughs with you, but as it fades, your eyes hold. When your eyes flick away, he looks to see what you see. All around you couples and friends are kissing, love and luck for the “New Year.”
When he turns his eyes back to you, you’re watching him. He barely even thinks about it when he brings his hand gently to the back of your head. Something wild skips inside of him when he doesn’t have to guide you because you’re already leaning in on your own.
When your lips meet his, he can think of nothing, save for the soft feel of your mouth against his and the sweetness that clings to your lips from the champagne. It’s instinct that takes him when your lips part and he brushes his tongue against them. His heart nearly beats out of his chest when you open your mouth wider and let your own tongue press against his. Impulse drives him to deepen the kiss and somewhere distantly he can feel your fingertips dig into the back of his neck.
Abruptly, you’re broken apart. Startled, he catches your eye and sees his own confusion and surprise reflecting back at him.
He wants to reach for you again, but someone is roughly shaking his shoulders. It takes him a moment to realize that Kevin is grabbing at him, trying to turn him into a hug as he shouts “Happy New Year” in his ear. Gloria has you in a similar hold and before he knows it, you're swept away from him, into the arms of one neighbor and then another, until you’re lost in the crowd.
It feels like an eternity before he finds you again. When he does, you give him a careful smile that reveals nothing.
With a voice light and practiced, you ask if he’s ready to head home. He nods and volunteers to get your jacket. When he helps you slip it on, he’s careful not to let his fingers brush against your skin more than they have to. When he escorts you out the door, his hand hovers at your lower back but does not touch.
Once you’re outside, blessedly alone once more with a gentle breeze blowing off the water, he wants to say something.
But he doesn’t know what.
So he doesn’t.
Neither do you.
And it's like it never happened.
Leaning against opposite sides of Gloria’s double-sized front door, you and Barnes watch as she is driven off in a police car. Unmarked. A concession you made to help minimize the social damage to her family and to help soften her up for when you eventually ask her to turn against her partners.
You know Barnes is watching you from the corner of his eye, but you keep your own gaze focused on Sam and Monica where they stand on the lawn, engaged in a short debriefing with their contacts from the local bureau office. You're feeling too many things right now and you don't know if you want him to see them.
After another minute, Sam and Monica shake hands with the agents, then jog back towards you as the bureau guys get in their car.
Sam’s smile splits wide across his face and you shift uncomfortably. You know he’s proud of the two of you, that’s clear enough, but you can’t help but resent the smug tinge on his lips.
“Nice work, you two,” he says heartily, as he and Monica give you warm hugs and arm pats. “When I sent Agent Bradley the evidence you collected-” Sam lets out a low whistle- “I tell you that man didn’t know whether he ought to dance or name his first born after you.”
You dip your head with a snort of laughter and kick your heel on the ground.
“You know, Wilson,” Barnes chimes in, “your praise would be more flattering if you didn’t sound so surprised.”
Sam pulls an expression of mock alarm and with his hand pressed against his chest, he looks back and forth between the two of you. “Surprised? Me?” He shakes his head. “Oh no, no, no. I knew all along the two of you could pull this off. Once you each got out of your own way, that is.”
Your cheeks heat and something like embarrassment stirs in your belly even though it shouldn’t.
Monica leans in, with a loud conspiratorial whisper she adds, “Of course, Belova’s a little disappointed. She was taking bets that you’d kill each other. Or at the very least, that one of you would end up in the hospital.”
For the first time since Sam and Monica arrived on scene, you throw a look Barnes’s way. You find him doing the same. You roll your eyes in near perfect unison before turning back to the others.
You can tell that your moment of unplanned synchronization didn’t go unnoticed, but blessedly neither Sam nor Monica comment on it.
Placing his hands on both of your shoulders and pulling you in closer as he does, Sam’s voice turns emphatic.
“Seriously though, you guys did an amazing job. The work you did here, it’s going to have a ripple effect all across the globe.” He squeezes you both and you can feel the pride radiating off of him and settling deep into your chest. With a quick pat, he releases you. “And. Once you guys finish up some final paperwork and help with the initial round of interrogations, I’ve put in for a full month of vacation for both of you. You deserve it. And before you say anything-” he shoots a quick glance at Barnes who was just about to open his mouth- “you need it. Once you wrap up here, neither of you are even allowed to work for a month. In fact, I don’t want to see either of your faces around the compound for at least two weeks.”
He tilts his head at each of you in turn and waits for you to nod in confirmation.
“Excellent! Why don’t we head back to your house and we can order some pizza while you guys pack?”
“Sure,” Barnes replies lightly. His expression tells you nothing of what he’s thinking and you wonder if he feels the same strange heaviness that you feel.
“What are the odds that you guys have any good beer?” Monica asks as the four of you turn to walk back to the home that you and Barnes have shared for the better part of nine months.
“Uh, yeah. We-" suddenly the "we" that has come so easily to you over the past months, feels heavy on your tongue- “we have beer.”
As you walk, Sam and Barnes pull a few steps ahead and you watch them as Barnes answers a volley of Sam’s questions about the case.
Lost in your own thoughts, you don’t notice the way that Monica is watching you. When you finally catch her looking, you start, then grimace.
Before you can even think of something to say, she nudges you affectionately with her hip.
“Everything okay?”
You shake your head and offer her a reassuring smile.
“Yeah, I’m good. I mean, why wouldn’t I be?” You shrug. “Everything went perfectly with Gloria, the bureau seems confident that all of our evidence will stick, and I know we have enough leverage to get her talking.”
Monica tilts her head.
“But…?”
You sigh.
“It’s nothing, it’s just-” you break off and bite your lip- “it just feels weird I guess, to be going home. We’ve been living this life for three quarters of a year now, and then just like that, we’re switching back to our old lives- and I’m grateful, don’t get me wrong- but it feels just a little disorienting I guess.”
She bobs her head sympathetically.
“I get it. I’ve done deep cover before. It’s like when you’re waking up from a dream.”
“Yeah,” without meaning to, your eyes flick up and you watch Barnes’s back as he walks ahead of you. “Like a strange and incomprehensible dream.”
You toss your duffle bag onto the bed and let out a low sigh.
Home. Finally.
The place is quiet. A little disappointing for a homecoming but it can’t be helped with everyone out on mission.
Well, everyone except Barnes.
You’re not sure where he is, an oddly discomfiting feeling that you’ve had to get used to over the last two weeks while you made long overdue visits to friends and family and then as you carved out some alone time on a warm, sandy beach.
Your first impulse when you arrived and found the place empty was to head up to Barnes’s room to see if he’d gotten back from his own travels. But you didn’t. You couldn’t quite figure out whether that would be a normal thing to do or not, so you decided to err on the side of caution and went straight to your own room instead.
Standing at the foot of your bed now, you look around and try to reacquaint yourself with the feel of it. It reminds you vaguely of what it had been like returning to your childhood bedroom after your first semester away at college. It’s yours, it’s familiar, but you’re not quite sure how you fit into it anymore or if that feeling will ever go away. How much of you is even the same person you were when you walked out of this room so many months before?
You wonder if some rearranging might help. Maybe even switching up the decor. A new-old space for the new-old you.
For now, you’ll start with unpacking and decide how you feel when you're done.
With music blasting and dirty clothes all tossed into the hamper, you’re midway through putting away your clean things when you're startled by a knock at the door. Stepping out of your closet, you find Barnes standing in your half-opened doorway.
Your heart thumps like the traitor that it is and steals your breath.
It takes you a moment to force out a soft, “Oh. Hey.”
“Hey.” Hands shoved into his back pockets, he smiles shyly. “I saw your jeep in the garage and thought I’d check in. Did you just get back?”
“Um,” you dip your head and bite your lip. Unsure of why you feel so nervous, you push on, hoping for a light tone. “Yeah, just about an hour ago or so. I didn’t think anyone else was here.”
“Yeah, no. Uh,” he huffs a laugh at his own contradiction. “I was out picking up some groceries. But I got back back a couple of days ago.”
“Oh? And how-” realizing that he’s still hovering in the doorway, you decide to swallow your nervousness and resolve at least this one bit of awkwardness- “you can come in.”
He nods and crosses the threshold with an air of a man trying to be casual, but not quite pulling it off.
For a moment he pauses, looking from your chairs, which face the windows, to your bed, which in your mind looks inviting but perhaps a bit too intimate, before he settles finally into a half-sitting lean against the edge of your dresser. You suddenly feel the urge to laugh but stifle it.
“So,” you decide to try again, “how has your vacation been going?”
“Good,” he says with a bob of his head as he tries to decide whether or not to cross his arms across his chest or to settle them at his sides. “I visited with Steve and his family for a bit. Then I went to California because my sister’s grandson was graduating from UCLA. After that, I spent a week riding my bike up the coast.”
“Oh wow, that sounds really nice.”
“Yeah, it was. I’d- I’d love to go back sometime. There are lots of places I’d love to revisit. Especially- if I had somebody with me.”
You don’t know why, but goosebumps break out over your skin and your pulse kicks up. Unsure of what to say, you nod and offer a simple “I bet” before pulling another shirt from your suitcase and putting it on a hanger just to have something to do.
“So, how were your travels?”
Tucking the shirt in amongst the others in your closet, you look back over your shoulder with a smile.
“Good. I spent the first week hopping around and visiting a bunch of different people and then I rented a house in the BVI and basically spent a week reading books and drinking Painkillers on the beach.”
“Oh, yeah? I’ve never been, was it nice?”
“You’ve never been?” He shakes his head. “Well, I don’t know how you feel about beaches but they’re just gorgeous down there. And Jost Van Dyke? It’s perfect.”
“Sounds like you had a good time.”
“I did,” you nod emphatically. Then before you even realize what you’re going to say a “But-” slips out.
When you stop yourself, Barnes gives you a curious look.
“It’s just-” unsure how you feel about going down this road, you bite your lip before deciding to just go for it- “it was nice, but it was also kind of weird having all of that time to myself.” You give him a meaningful look, betting on him to understand, at least a little. “It’s been an age since I had so much time alone.”
“Yeah, I do know. Actually-” A shift of his weight and you can tell that he’s nervous. The strands of his hair slip easily through his restless fingers- “I don’t know if this is a strange thing to say or not, but, uh-” he dips his head and looks up cautiously at you- “I miss spending time with you.”
There’s a question in the edge of his eye and though your brain hasn’t yet named it, something deep in you knows what it is. Knows the proof that he wants from you, that it was not just some strange dream in the end, something that might get left behind as you return to who you used to be.
“Me too.” Your voice is low and soft and you’re surprised by the weight of your own honesty. Not sure that you’re ready to go to that place, you pivot. You tinge your voice with laughter as you ask, “Who would have thought? It turns out- shockingly- that I actually like?” you give him a teasing smile as you make the word a question- “hanging out with you. Which! A year and a half ago, I never would have said!”
“Oh no, definitely not.” he says with a laugh.
Knowing that you're skirting the edge of territory that you’re still not sure you want to explore, but somehow unable to stop yourself, your voice turns soft once more as you add, “But we’ve come a really long way, haven’t we?”
“We have.” He holds your eye for a long minute and chews his lip.
“What- how wo-” he licks his lips and starts again- “do you think that maybe you’d want to…”
He trails off in search of his words. Cautiously, you supply them for him.
“Hang out?”
His lips part, but he only studies your face and says nothing. You could count the seconds by your racing heartbeat as the question hangs in the air. Eventually, he closes his lips into a soft smile and nods slowly.
Swallowing down your nervousness, you ask, “Did you want to hang out now? I was thinking of watching this campy horror movie when I was done putting this stuff away.”
Popping up almost too quickly, he replies, “Yeah. Why don’t I dig up some snacks while you finish up here?”
“Sounds good!”
When he’s gone, you quickly turn to your remaining pile of clothes and throw everything onto hangers as quickly as you can. When you finish, you realize that you have no idea if he’s coming back here or is expecting you to meet him in the common room. A moment later, he answers the question for you.
Though the door stands wide open, he lightly knocks again and waits for you to acknowledge him before he enters. You giggle when you take note of his full arms.
“Preparing for a lock down, Barnes?” You joke.
He shrugs and looks down at his overflowing arms.
“Having options is important.”
You laugh again, but stop, confused when you see him looking past you.
“Um…?” he starts and you turn around to see what he sees.
Oh. You’d kind of forgotten. With the layout of your room, the bed is the only good spot for watching movies. After a moment of panicked hesitation, you decide that sitting at the foot of the bed feels less intimate and awkward than leaning against the headboard.
Pretending like your hands haven’t suddenly started sweating, you move around to the foot and gesture for him to drop his bounty.
You nod, impressed as you start to dig through.
“Good haul, Barnes.”
“Wait til you see this.” He pulls out a package and hands it to you.
The striped packaging is adorned with an Eiffel Tower and a pink character in a beret stares cheerfully up at you.
Your head shoots up abruptly, your face bright with excitement.
“I love these. Where did you get them?”
“I know you do, and I know where Torres keeps his secret stash.”
“You risked incurring Torres’s wrath for these? You know how grumpy he gets without his sweets.”
He shrugs.
“He doesn’t know that I know where he keeps his stuff, so he can’t pin it on me. Unless somebody tells him.” He eyes you sideways.
“Oh no, I fully plan to eat these, which makes me an accessory. So your secret is safe with me. Besides, if he does try to question me, I’ll just claim spousal testimonial privilege.” You add as you tear the package open and reach inside
He laughs and you grin dumbly at him. Pulling out a handful of pink bon bons, you pour some into your mouth, offering half to him. As he takes them, he holds your eye and watches you with a smile. Warmth stirs in your chest and threatens to spill over into every part of you.
Before the silence can stretch into something awkward, you swallow your mouthful and you gesture to the television.
“Should I get the movie started?”
“Sure.”
You settle yourselves at the foot of your bed as you pull up the movie on your account.
Before you press start, you ask, “Are you okay with a dumb horror movie?”
“Yeah, that’s fine. But-” he reads the title- “is it going to matter that I haven’t seen the first one?”
You shake your head. “No, not at all. It’s called Evil Dead 2 but it’s not really a continuation. They basically redo the first movie in the first twenty minutes of this one.”
“Okay then.”
You press play then toss the remote between you as you root around in the snack pile. The title fades and a dark tunnel opens onto a sunny road. A couple talks about a deserted camp. As their car comes to a rickety and eerily lit bridge, the screen freezes.
Confused, you look down and find the remote in Barnes’s hand.
“Everything okay?”
He shakes his head.
“No.”
“No?” Your heartbeat kicks up and you look down. “We don’t- have to watch this- we could do someth-”
“No.”
“Oh,” disappointment sinks heavy in your stomach, but you force a smile. “It’s okay, we don’t have to hang out right now if you-”
“No!” This time you think you catch a note of panic in his voice as he shakes his head. “That’s not what- I do want to hang out.”
“Okay, so...” you trail off, unable to even guess where he’s going with this but not liking the unease snaking its way through you.
“I meant, ‘no’ to before.”
You look sideways, still no wiser than you were a moment ago.
“Before, what I was trying to say- what I was trying to ask, was not if you wanted to hang out.” He turns, folding his leg up onto the bed to face you directly, he breathes in deeply, strengthening himself it seems and it leaves you feeling cold.
You turn your head down, not sure if you want to hear what he’s going to say.
“What I was trying to say is that- I want to take... you out.” He pauses, fingers curled nervously on his knees.
You blink, brain frozen with the effort of trying to process his words. Slowly, painfully slowly- for you both, judging by the anxious look on his face- what he’s said starts to sink in.
Goosebumps race across your skin but you don’t feel cold. A bubbly feeling rises your chest and tries to escape from your mouth. But you clamp your lips down and furrow your brow instead.
“Like… a hit? Or a date?” you ask, your voice a perfect mimic of innocent naivety.
He huffs a laugh and gives you a pained look.
“Hey, I think it’s fair to ask!” You raise your hands defensively, but can’t suppress your smile. “Given our history, it would be reasonable for a person to get confused.”
You wonder how many times since you’ve known him that he’s rolled his eyes at you. But this time when he does it, it’s with a smile and you want to laugh.
“A date. Obviously.”
“Well, I don’t know if you could call it ‘obvious’. I mean, there’s lots…” your rambling trails off as he looks at you sternly. Tugging your lip between your teeth, you shrug as you feel warmth spread through you. “Maybe… I just wanted to hear you say it.”
He pulls in a slow breath.
“Can I-” he reaches across and pulls your hand into his own- “take you out, on a date, please?”
You fight your smile for only a moment, before you turn your hand in his. Dropping your eyes, you watch the way your fingers fit just right as you lace them together. You glance over at his other hand, the metal one, gone now are both the holographic netting and the silver band. It’s funny that you prefer him without the one, but unexpectedly find yourself missing the other.
Your thoughts go to the picture you have hiding in your closet, the one you stole off of the wall of your shared house. It’s not real- just a staged photo of the two of you on vacation in Montreal- but you wanted it anyways. You weren’t really even sure why. Maybe it’s just a harmless memento, something to remember your mission by. But maybe it’s something else, a reminder of the life you shared together, even for a small while. Or maybe it’s hope, for what you might be able to build together, but for real this time.
You lift your eyes and you find him waiting.
Your lips tug up and you see an answering smile slowly creep across his lips.
I’m mid reread of ‘There’s Fire’ and I just have to implode somewhere BECAUSE THEY BOTH THINK THE OTHER HATES THEM BUT THEY BOTH ARE THINKING THE OTHER IS GOING TO KISS THEM?!?!?!?!?!?
I can’t- I actually cannot. Noa and Smoker are so friggen cute I am actually upset Noa isn’t a canonical character because she is to meeeeeee 😭😭😭
I love her so much and I love how Smoker thinks of her 10/10 no changes- that’s a lie I’d like some changes mostly them getting locked in a very small room and having to confront how they actual feel AND make out because I DID NOT truly comprehend the power of forced proximity until chapter 4 and on that same chapter I love have sassy she is, he literally thinks it as Bratty behaviour and I’m SCREAMING WITH NO PLACE TO SCREAM AND I BLAME YOU (sending all the love)
So I know it’s a slow burn BUT WHEN DO THEY KISS?!?!?
Also is Galcé off in the next chapter? I know absence makes the heart grow fonder and he’s keeping them away but my heart is in pain
Also will he take her to an officer gala? OH MY GOD ARE THEY GONNA MEET AT ONE ANYWAY BECAUSE OXLEYS GET AN INVITE AND HE HAS TO BE THERE AND THEY DANCE AND BANTER AND IT’S HELLA CUTE AND CONFUSING FOR EVERYONE ELSE AND SMOKER GETS TEASED??? Too far in the future in fairness and if they leave that boat without a single kiss I’m going to explode. Literally- spontaneous combustion.
every time someone says they wish Noa was canon or that she feels canonical i get weepy, that is SO KIND, thank youuuuu (இ﹏இ`｡)...i know i've said this a hundred times but my goal is to craft a character who slots into existing canon seamlessly so this is just really nice validation OMG TY
dude forced proximity is MY JAAAAAM, i am thrilled to drag you into its orbit LOL
i know exactly when and how Smoker and Noa kiss each other for the first time and i literally become this meme every time i think about it:
i can't say when a kiss might happen but let's just say this story will absolutely earn the "slow burn" tag, mehehehehehehe “ψ (｀∇´) ψ...we have a lot of pining to do to get us here! but i think you'll enjoy the ride
as for Glace, he'll be around for a while, but we'll get some good Smoker/Noa scenes in the next installment...one moment in particular i think will have all of you SCREAMING hehehehehehehe >:)
AND OMG A GALA...i'm so happy you latched onto the seemingly throwaway mention of the marine officer's gala because that was not actually a throwaway line at all! this story owes a lot of its vibe and aesthetic to the Bridgerton series and that series heavily features balls/dances so we'll absolutely be getting one in There's Fire in the future! i love setting up stuff way in advance and we'll actually get a really specific callback to the gala Smoker mentioned in a big way, no spoilers though!
...actually, tell you what, here's a little spoiler for you...i have this story divided into three parts in my notes, the first titled "Aboard the Ship" and the second titled "Ashore at Last"...i know i've shared the moodboard for "Aboard the Ship" before (it's in the first chapter on AO3) but here's the moodboard for the story's second part:
not a lot of this will make sense (though i think two images will now make sense after the most recent chapter) but yeah that image of them dancing is there for a reason!
tysm for reading my story, for real, i love that story so much and i'm working on the next chapter today actually! :D see you sooooon!
dicking around in Picrew today and made Lady Oxley Noa from —There's Fire! first version is "the Lady" and second version is just "Noa"
"the Lady" is all dressed up with her hair in an elegant up-do, carefully applied makeup, jewelry and nice clothes...and then there's just Noa as Smoker saw her that night in the tavern in chapters 3 & 4, where she's wearing exceedingly normal clothes, not a stitch of makeup in sight, and her hair is much more relaxed/casual...
i set the background to reflect where he's seen each version of Noa, too! the night sky reflects the moments they chatted aboard the ship, nothing but black water and the night sky above to keep them company, and the tavern background is...well, the tavern from chapters 3 and 4 haha
Smoker thinks she's pretty in every setting (and has a heart attack every time he sees that goddamn curl on her cheek) <3
