Imagine Steve will 100% do something if Bucky says he shouldn't/won't/can't... and the team tries to see the craziest thing they can get Steve to do.
“No you won’t.” Bucky pinched his eyebrows together for the
most disbelieving expression as he could muster.
Steve scowled and stood,
marching off to his suite.
“Holy shit. What just happened? We’ve been trying to get Steve to get some
rest for days.” Clint was glad that he wasn’t the only one
looking mildly shocked.
Bucky shrugged. “He’s a competitive asshole. There’s no faster way to get him to do
something than to tell him he can’t or won’t.”
Natasha made an interested
sound, but said nothing.
In the morning, Clint
arrived at the communal kitchen to see Steve making pancakes, Natasha sat at
the table in pjs with a steaming mug of coffee.
“Steve’s pretty sure he knows his way around
breakfast, but I guess we’ll have to see.”
She smiled sweetly.
The pancakes were
blueberry chocolate chip. And delicious.
“Guess you were right,
Steve.” Natasha said not at all
begrudgingly and light-as-air.
It seemed unfair how many
times Clint was in the medical bay. But
it was worth it, when he saw Steve
sitting there, holding a compress to his side, Sam calmly (smugly) reading a
book beside him.
“-Don’t give him any more
ammunition than he already thinks he has, Barton,” Steve started, “I’m more
than willing to see a doctor if I need to.
Especially,” he glared at Sam,
“because I know it sets a good example for my team.”
Sam held up a placating
hand. “My bad, man. Guess I had some confirmation bias going on
Clint sat down in the
empty seat next to Sam and wondered whether he’d been hit in the head harder
than he’d originally thought.
“I’m just saying. I get the feeling that maybe you can’t.”
Steve squared his jaw and
stepped decisively in line for the Cyclone.
It wasn’t until after,
laughing and dizzy and leaning on each other for support that Steve studied
Rhodey and said: “I know what you’re all doing, you know. I just can’t help it.”
Rhodey shook his head,
smiling. “Yeah. I know. Bet you can’t eat more fried oreos than I
harry is my baby, my sweet creampuff, my ½ cup of milk, my cookie dough ice cream, my crème brûlèe, my peppermint bark, my candy cane, my strawberry strudel, my New York cheesecake, my ¼th teaspoon of extra virgin olive oil, my double stuff oreo, my red velvet cake, my fried chicken, my keylime pie,
Straying Chocohoe: blog= created with an email address I forgot about until now. Anyway, I need to gather all my black friends so we can plan to go see the Black Panther movie when it comes out... I suddenly remembered that I actually don't have that many black friends and that my family calls me the Oreo...well then. No shame in watching t by myself... and there go the feels.
Man. It’s tough being the only sista around to partake in the full glory that will be Black Panther when it hits. I mean, I’ll be in the same boat (only I’ll be taking my bf because he loves the Black Panther too… but he’s white so I hope he ain’t gonna be too uncomfortable on premiere day when our folks get too hype in the movie theatre LOLOL), and idc…
… but sometimes I imagine what it would be like if I had my friends from the D with me to go with, as well. TOO TURNT, THAT’S WHAT
So when you go see the movie, picture me sitting next to you hogging the popcorn and yelling incoherently about how I’m so gonna bust it wide open for T'Challa.
What’s this about your new blog created? Writing blog, right? SIS LAY IT ON MEEEHH (unless you already did and it’s buried under a shitton of notifications, and if that’s the case I’m SO SORRY I’M TERRIBLE AT KEEPING UP SOMETIMES)
[arrives in your inbox to whisper about the taz college au] Taako in the dorm kitchen making an improvised cheesecake out of cheap cream cheese and oreos and other stuff he's managed to dig up from the backs of the cupboards, and Magnus sits at the table just watching, kinda mesmerized, because that's gotta be magic, dude. Merle's sitting next to him, proofreading his essay and wearing these giant ancient-looking headphones, but even he lifts his head when it starts to smell really delicious.
Hell yeah, I love this! College au returns!
Speaking of Merle in giant headphones, I can so picture Merle being an old-school vinyl man, has a record player on his tiny-ass dorm dresser, and likes to open the windows and put on a record when the weather is nice.