d.a. points

iamartemisday  asked:

Steve/Darcy- 14 (Rear Window is my favorite movie ever :D)

Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers
Word Count: 1063
Prompt:  #14  “Okay, I swear I’m not normally this creepy, but I broke my leg and have been spying on all the people across the street from me, and I could have SWORN I saw you kill a man.  Care to explain?”  (Rear Window AU/Disturbia AU)


As Steve maneuvered himself onto the elevator and pressed the button for the fifth floor, he had to admit that he wasn’t particularly proud of what he was doing.  

Quite the contrary.

It had all started with the binoculars.  An early birthday gift from Bucky, intended to make him feel better about his broken leg and mandatory six weeks’ leave with pay from the NYPD.  

Originally, he’d only meant to test them out.  To give Bucky a definitive ‘yes’ or ‘no’ in reference to their quality so he could rest assured that his online purchase wasn’t a lemon.  

And it wasn’t.  They were good binoculars.

So good in fact, that he’d gotten kind of addicted to looking through them.  

Police Captain Steve Rogers of the NYPD was spying on his neighbors.  

But there was nothing on T.V and his leg was itching him inside his cast, so he had to do something to take his mind off it.  

It might as well be spying on his neighbors.  

Well, he’d hesitate to call them neighbors, really.  Neighbors were the people you called when your car wouldn’t start, or you needed to borrow a cup of sugar.  The people who lived in the apartment building adjacent to his weren’t really neighbors.  

But that still didn’t make it right to spy on them.  

Which was what he told himself the first time he plopped himself down in his desk chair and reached for the binoculars, peering out through the blinds because he knew it was wrong.

And each subsequent time he did it.   

It’s just…it turned out there was an interesting development across the street. 

There was this one window…not directly across from his, but on the same level.  It was about two windows down.  

It was a kitchen window.  And he’d been watching for the past few days as this girl broke up with her boyfriend.  

Bucky was teasing him about it.  Because the girl was cute.  

Yeah, she was cute.  But it wasn’t like Steve would ever have a shot with her.  What would his pickup line be?  “Hi, yeah…I watched you break up with your boyfriend from my bedroom with a pair of binoculars.  Wanna go out sometime?  I know you’re free!”  

No way in hell was he doing that.

Plus, he was pretty sure he knew her from somewhere.  But he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Besides, it had moved past being a crush and was now completely a Hitchcock-level obsession.  

The break up had happened in spurts throughout the past two days.  And now?  Now he wasn’t seeing the guy there anymore.

He did, however, through his obstructed view, see the girl carrying several garbage bags and boxes back and forth through the kitchen.  

Which, wouldn’t be a huge deal after a breakup, except that he didn’t see the ex-boyfriend EVER come to pick them up.  

And what made this a Hitchcock-level obsession was the large bloody knife she kept washing in the sink.  It was a really big chef’s knife.  And he’d been trying to tell himself that it wasn’t blood.  It was probably just…something that looked like blood at this distance.  

He was certain if he asked her, the answer would be completely innocuous.  

But she’d been washing that bloody knife at the sink all day long.  

And while Steve had intended to ask Bucky about it once he got home from work, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t innocuous at all.  

Which was why he was now hobbling down to her apartment, police badge in his pocket, with only the crutches for self-defense.

He knocked on her door.  He was certain it was her door, because he’d called some people back at the station to make sure there wasn’t a lobby level on the building.  

And when she answered it, she was wiping her hands on what looked like a bloody towel and his nerves just kind of got the better of him.  

“Don’t take this the wrong way…” he began, mentally kicking himself for doing this. “…but I broke my leg and have been spying on everyone in your building…and I could have sworn I saw you kill a man…care to explain?”  He yanked on his badge and held it out in front of him.  “Captain Rogers, NYPD.” 

The girl, the woman…she sighed heavily and tossed her ponytail as she squinted to inspect his badge.  “Is that legal, what you’re doing?”  

“Everything I saw happened in plain sight.”  

“Plain sight that you had to modify with binoculars.”  

He faltered, sputtering slightly because she had him there.  “Well…”  

“So, not only are you here, outside my apartment without a warrant or grounds for one…but you expect me to just…explain to you why I have this…sticky red liquid all over my hands?  Do you think I was just born yesterday?  Also…” she squinted up at him.  “How do you not recognize me?” 

He frowned.  “What?  I’m sorry…have we met or–”  

“Assistant D.A, Darcy Lewis?”  She pointed to her chest.  “We’ve seen each other in court.  A lot.”  

Realization dawned on him.  “Oh, right!  That’s where I’ve seen you before!”

She reached behind the door, plucking a jar of orange-red-something and pushing it into his hands.  “Blood Orange Marmalade.  That’s what’s on my hands, Captain.  I just went through a breakup.  And when I go through a breakup, I bake.  Or preserve.  Marmalade in this case.  Enjoy it.  And enjoy the rest of your leave.”  She waved once and reached for the door.  

“But wait…just one thing?” he asked, turning the jar in his hand.  “What about the bags?”  

“Those bags?” she opened the door wider and gestured to the pile of trash bags on the floor.  “My ex’s clothes.  He’s coming back to get them later, I wanted to have them all together.  Less time he has to be here, ya know?”  

He nodded. “Right…right…”  He glanced down at the marmalade.  “Thanks for…for this.  You didn’t have to…I mean…I was…”  

“Spying on me through my kitchen window?”  

“Yeah…” He trailed off, frowning.  “Wait.  How did you know it was through your kitchen window?”  

She shrugged, “I dunno.  Maybe I’ve done some spying of my own, Captain.”  She winked.  “So we’ll call it even?”  

He held out his hand.  “Sure.  We’re even.”  

She took it and shook it once, leaving it sticky when she let go.  

The Cell, an addendum

A short ficlet about what happened after it faded to black. I didn’t write any smut, because @cake-by-thepound slayed my soul and existence with hers yesterday, and I knew that I couldn’t top that. But, I did write something.

:

Michonne broke away from the kiss, her dark eyes still gleaming with tears and happiness; they were going to fight, they were going to win, and finally after everything, she was close to him once more. She took deep, steady breaths as her hands wildly stroked his unruly curls, and then she took his face in her hands and simply stared at him.

He looked back at her with confusion, wondering why she’d pulled away; his pink pouty lips desperate to be on hers once more. But, instead of telling him, she showed him by pulling him to the wall of the cell near the door, and sitting down, he followed. Once he sat, she delicately placed his head onto her lap and stroked his curls some more. He sighed with contentment, as he’d never been treated with such love and care before.

He longed to melt into her, to merge their souls into one.

“What did you see out there?” He asked her curiously.

“Piled a bunch of walkers up,” she started with a smile. “Met a woman who took me to Negan’s house, then I killed her. You know, the usual.”

“You’re such an overachiever,” he drawled huskily, settling further into her lap.

“I’ve always been an overachiever,” she admitted.

Immediately, she thought of her life before everything went to shit. She was an artsy, affluent corporate lawyer who lived in an apartment high above the city, and for the most part she was very happy with that. She was happy with her little boy Andre, and her boyfriend Mike. But had she ever loved Mike like she loved Rick? She could scarcely compare the feelings that she found herself feeling for him.

She loved him with every crevice of her soul, and seeing his light blue eyes darken with pain and guilt destroyed her, angered her, but it also made her realize that she couldn’t do it without him. She’d sacrifice everything for him.

She cradled him tighter, one hand looping harder into his curls and the other stroking his face.

“What did you do before?” He asked, as if reading her thoughts just as she’d had them. “There’s so much that I don’t know about you, Michonne. This whole thang has made me realize.”

His words were a steady whisper in the darkness of the cell, and the warmth of his body was the biggest reminder that he was real. She took a deep breath, ready to bare her soul to him.

“I was a lawyer,” she admitted simply.

He got up from her lap, and sat next to her, tilting his head and smirking. “What?”

“Of course you were a lawyer,” he said with a light laugh, his strong shoulder brushing his own. “I bet you were a D.A.”

“At one point I was an assistant D.A., but I switched to corporate law,” she admitted.

He looked at her curiously. “Why did you switch?”

“I thought that I wasn’t doing enough,” she admitted. “I needed to do more.”

Rick found his heart swelling with pride at the woman beside him. She’d gone off by himself and stacked bodies of the dead so that she could find Negan’s home, and give him a reason to fight, but she wasn’t going to do this without him.

‘I wanted it to be ours…me and you.’

Her words still echoed in his mind and being. He found that even that small nugget of information about her wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to know everything about her, even the smallest, most minute, unimportant fact. He wanted to know her down to the molecules that made up her anatomy, he was that consumed by her.

“What’s your favorite color?” He found himself asking.

She giggled, taken aback by such a light question. “Orange,” she finally admitted.

“What is the one thing you’ve always wanted?” He asked her, cupping her face with his hand, and stroking her cheek.

Tears pooled in her eyes again as she started to feel the feelings consume her once more. She wasn’t quite ready to vocalize them to him, or anyone for that matter. But staring at him in that dark cell, she realized once more what she’d realized in the car with the Savior, and in her talk with Deanna: I want Rick, I want him by my side, I want to raise Carl and Judith as if they were my own, I want to be happy, I want him to be happy, I want us to be happy, she thought. But, she didn’t vocalize it. Instead she gripped his curls with her hands and sat astride his lap, placing her lips upon his.

At first the kiss was tender, her lips barely touching his, but he pulled her to him, and bit her lip, moaning into her mouth with reverent need. Their lips consumed one another’s as their tongues tangled and massaged the others. They weren’t just kissing, their souls were merging into one. Her lips left his, as she kissed his forehead, mouth, cheeks, ears, and chin. She worshipped his face with kisses, the love leaking out of her like a broken faucet.

“You,” she replied simply, as the lovers lips met once more.

Rickie Fowler has such a doll for a girlfriend. They are so sweet together. Rickie Fowler © of the United States celebrates with the championship trophy alongside his mother Lynne Fowler (L) and girlfriend Alexandra Brown ® after defeating Rory McIlroy of Northern Ireland and D.A. Points of the United States in a playoff during the final round to win the Wells Fargo Championship at the Quail Hollow Club on May 6, 2012 in Charlotte, North Carolina. (Photo by Streeter Lecka/Getty Images)

Fowler's Time

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By: Wyatt Stephens

CHARLOTTE, NC – It has been a long waiting game for Rickie Fowler’s first PGA TOUR victory.  Now, the waiting game is over.

Fowler produced his first victory on Sunday after winning the tenth annual Wells Fargo Championship, defeating D.A. Points and fellow peer Rory McIlroy in a three-way playoff on the first playoff hole. 

The three stayed within a shot of one another for most of the day during regulation.  All players birdied the par five 15th, while Fowler would find bogey on the par four 16th

“I didn’t hit a bad drive or that bad of a drive on 16, unfortunately plugged in the front bunker on my second shot, and tried to play a putt that took the break on the par putt and ended up not being the greatest putt of all,” Fowler said. 

Fowler’s bogey on 16 would briefly drop him from the leaderboard but both McIlroy and Points would find trouble on holes 17th and 18th, respectively.

Points was in the driver’s seat all day until a bogey on 18 during regulation forced a playoff with McIlroy and Fowler. 

“It hit on the corner of the bunker and shot to the back.  I was hoping that I was going to be a little bit more on an up slope and be able to hit a higher, softer shot,” said Points on his bogey during regulation.  “Instead, I kind of had to try to hit something low and try to run it down there, which obviously didn’t work very well.”

Though disappointed, Points walked away with a sense of accomplishment.  “Yeah, as good as it’s been [ball-striking] in a very long time, since probably 2009 maybe.”

McIlroy also had a sense of accomplishment after regaining his title of world number one.  “It is always nice to get back to the top,” McIlroy told ESPN’s Michael Collins.  “Hopefully I can play well over the next few weeks and try to solidify my position.” 

But the biggest sense of accomplishment would come from that of 23-year-old Fowler, who put an end to all the guessing games.

“It was a just more of when.  I definitely knew I was good enough, and it was just getting everything to come together and stay patient,” Fowler said. 

“It’ll take a bit for it to sink in.  Obviously there’s a lot of people that have helped me out through the years.”

And most of Fowler’s support from the years watched on the 18th green as Fowler tapped in for his first victory.   

“Well, I’m bummed Bubba wasn’t around,” a cheerful Fowler said.  “No, it was great to have two of my good buddies out here, Badds [Aaron Baddeley] and Ben [Crane].” 

Both an emotional Baddeley and Crane waited patiently to give Fowler a hug after his win.

“I’m surprised Ben didn’t start dancing around or anything on the green.”  “It’s nice to have the support from fellow players and good friends here and nice to see some familiar faces waiting there behind the green.” 

One familiar face who was not present was Fowler’s swing coach, Barry McDonnell, who passed away a year ago.

“I tried not to mention my swing coach Barry a whole lot because that definitely pulls a whole lot out of me.  It’s nice to have him watching down.” 

And watching down he was, as the youngster became the third-youngest player to win at the Wells Fargo.  Fowler’s win also makes him the eighth youngest player to win on the TOUR. 

“It’s been a wait, but I’m definitely still young, and hopefully this opens doors to many more.” 

PHOTO CREDIT: STREETER LECKA/GETTY IMAGES