Happy Birthday to whyishephil! Here’s a little ficcage for ya! <3
“I can do it myself you know.”
“You think you can,” Steve said, smacking Bucky on the shoulder with the brush before going back to the job at hand. “Now sit still.” He tugged the hair holder off his wrist and finished pulling Bucky’s hair back in a bun. “See? Done.”
“How do you know how to do that?” Bucky asked.
“Seen Natasha do it enough,” Steve said with a shrug. “Come on, I’ve got everything in the kitchen.” He made his way into the kitchen, not even checking to see if Bucky was following.
“Why are we doing this again?” Bucky followed Steve into the kitchen and flopped down on one of the stools. “And do you even know how to bake?”
“I made a promise.” Steve pulled one of the bowls closer and grabbed the cookbook. “And that’s what cookbooks are for.”
“This is going to end well,” Bucky muttered, moving to stand next to Steve, reading the recipe carefully.
“Don’t sound so enthused,” Steven replied, bumping Bucky’s shoulder with his.
Things started off perfectly fine; eggs, milk, butter, flour, sugar … then Bucky decided he could handle the mixing, dropped the mixer into the bowl and sent the ingredients flying everywhere. That had led to a full on food fight which had ended with Bucky and Steve sitting on the floor, Bucky’s head pillowed on Steve’s shoulder, bun undone with hair falling around his face.
“I was right,” Bucky mumbled.
“Hmm?” Steve hummed as he looked around the kitchen, internally groaning about the clean up.
“This did end well,” Bucky said, tilting his head up and claiming Steve’s lips in a gentle kiss.
Steve hummed against Bucky’s lips, carding a hand through Bucky’s hair. “Yeah, guess it did,” he said. “We’ll go to the grocery store and buy cupcakes later.”
“Later’s good,” Bucky said, slipping a hand under Steve’s. “Much later.”
“Always were handsy,” Steve muttered.
“You like me handsy,” Bucky replied.
“I do,” Steve agreed. “And mouthy.”
“I’m not the mouthy one,” Bucky retorted. “That would be you.”
It was familiar and helped to settle the small ache in Steve’s heart. Bucky was still recovering, but moments like these, moments where he was Steve’s friend again, Steve’s … other half. Those were the moments that told Steve that everything was going to be okay.
I def get Scott McCall vibes from you because you're human sunshine just like he is but also some Mike Ross vibes because you seem like you share his deep rooted loyalty, ja feel?
**blushes** OMG best compliment ever!! Two of my fave people!!!!!!
for the drabble thing -- skittles meeting in the ER au!
It’s a freak accident. Seriously. High school varsity Lacrosse is dangerous, but no one ever really expects to have a good 15 guys form two teams end up in the ER because someone tripped and caused a domino effect of broken bones, pulled tendons and even a concussion, possibly two. Apparently Beacon Hills Lacrosse has the clumsiest third string player to ever walk the Earth though, and Scott was now sitting next to him.
Scott’s mom is a nurse at Beacon Hills hospital, though they lived a town over, and the fact that he knew how to keep his arm position just so to keep it from any further damage while also helping the other players, both on his team and the Beacon Hill team he’d been playing against, from further injury while trying to get them to the hospital meant his broken arm was lower on the list of injuries to be treated.
The third string player, with a 24 on his chest and Stilinski along the back, didn’t seem to be injured, but was sitting in the waiting room with his head in his hands. Uninjured was probably not the best word, his ego was surly bruised. He’d already heard the coach dig into him, and Scott had had numerous interactions with Whittmore and could only imagine what that kid could throw at this poor guy.
“It could be worse, you know?”
Scott heard the words after they’d already come out and realized that was probably the wrong thing to say. When the Stilinski lifted his head and deadpanned at Scott, he was sure he could have found something much better to say in comfort.
“Really? Please, enlighten me.”
“I mean, at least no one is dead.”
Scott was pretty sure the guys eyes rolled completely into the back of his head before he dropped his face back into his palms. “It’d probably be better if I’d bit it out there.”
Scott wasn’t really sure how to respond to that, but before he could even consider how to, his mom showed up with a sad smile and a welcome hand to get him examined and probably wrapped for a cast.
An hour later Scott had a hard cast and a sling for his officially broken wrist, but when he came back out into the waiting room it was nearly empty.
“What’s the verdict?” Stilinski was still tin the waiting room. Scott’s mom told him that he’d been asking everyone how they were as they came out of the back with various remedies for their injuries. Scott had been the last one.
“Broken wrist. No games for at least 4 weeks.” he said, holding up his arm slightly before letting it cradle ingot he sling again. “It’ll give me time to catch up on some SAT prep I guess….” He said trailing off, his eyes scanning the room.
“You’re the only one who hasn’t tried to make me walking out of the back. How about we get you some brain food for your SAT prep to show you my gratitude for not killing me. I’m pretty sure Jackson would have swung at me with a cast like that.”
“When I said I wanted to go to the ball, this wasn’t what I had in mind,” Mike mumbled as he cautiously climbed out of the carriage and ascended the stairs into the castle. His step sister Jenny had received an invite to the Grand Gala to welcome the Prince home from his travels in the Americas, but Mike had not. Or perhaps he had, and his step sister had hidden it from him. Either way, when the night of the Gala came, Jenny had been spirited away in the carriage with his stepmother and Mike had been left at home.
Harvey bit back a yawn as he watched the woman curtsey and fawn all over him. It was tedious and the only reason he’d agreed to this display was to get his step sister off his case. Jessica had been adamant about him finding a nice girl to marry and start doing his duty as heir to the throne.
“Having fun, brother?” Jessica asked, appearing at his arm.
“Watching a gaggle of giggling girls bat their eyelashes at me? Yes, I am having a wonderful time,” Harvey replied, vowing that he would marry the next girl that entered the ballroom. He glanced up at the sudden commotion near the entrance and sat up when he caught sight of the stunning creature hesitating just inside the doorway. He stood and made his way through the throngs of people, avoiding roaming hands as he approached the woman just inside the doorway.
According to Donna, Mike was required to go to the Gala, but that didn’t mean he had to interact with anyone. He hadn’t planned on going to the blasted Gala in drag - he’d just stand near the door until just before midnight and then go home. He took, or tried to take, a couple of breaths, but was hindered by the corset Donna had forced him into. He gave a soft squeak and jumped when he suddenly found his vision blocked by a broad chest. He glanced up and … “Oh, Your Highness,” he said, trying to pitch his voice a little higher.
Harvey took a few minutes to take in the vision in front of him; mahogany curls arranged in an elaborate updo, little tendrils around her face, delicate features and a beautiful pale blue gown that accentuated her lithe form. “I don’t believe we’ve met,”Harvey said, taking the woman’s hand in his. “I am Harvey, and you are?”
Mike swallowed and stared at the prince. “I’m Mi … chelle. Michelle,” he murmured. “Michelle Rossmoor.”
“Pleasure,” Harvey murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to Michelle’s hand. “Would you perhaps like to take a walk with me?”
“I … would like that very much,” Mike replied, letting Harvey lead him out through the side door to gardens. Once out in the gardens, they walked slowly along the paths, chatting quietly about nothing. Mike actually forgot about the dress, the corset, the hair - at least until Harvey pressed his against a pillar and wrapped his hands around Mike’s waist.
“Michelle,” Harvey murmured, leaning in for a kiss.
“It’s … it’s not … Harvey … “ Mike gasped and leaned his head back, groaning when he felt Harvey’s lips on his jaw. “I have to tell you … “
“You’re not a girl,” Harvey said, pulling back and smiling. “You look stunning, though.”
“Would you believe fairy godmother?” Mike replied.
“I don’t really care,” Harvey said. “You are the most fascinating person I have met tonight.” He leaned back in and gave Mike a kiss. “So Michelle Rossmoor, what’s your real name? I figure I should know before I deflower you.”
“Ross, Mike Ross,” Mike gasped breathlessly. “Deflower away.” He glanced up and saw a bright purple star flickering in the sky. “Thanks, Donna,” he whispered.
whyishephil replied to your post “siren and ghost!”
omg no serious is fine!!! serious is good, it's insightful and it's kinda nice to see someone actually give a real answer to something :D
aw thanks! i mean, i like being honest on tumblr, but sometimes it feels strange to be so serious (and a bit of a downer) on what is usually just a fun place for me. but i'm a little anxious about college starting again this week, so i can't quite get those worries off my mind, ooPS.
Siren: If you could make anyone do anything, what would you make them do?
oh gosh. maybe make my university forgive all my debts? or make someone super rich buy me an apartment lol. on a serious note, make all the ferguson police STOP.
Ghost: Do you have any regrets?
i really regret not working harder to connect with professors at my university, for jobs and internships and reccomendations. uh, i also regret not getting more involved with my relationships - i tend to keep myself on an acquaintance level with almost everyone, instead of investing in real deep relationships.
