“I hit that guy so hard he was impressed with my skill and asked if I needed his services”
“One second everything was fine, and then that GTA fan ran off with my precious baby and some guy’s gun. Please, Corso, he won’t hurt your blaster. At least, a blaster can’t be crashed, but a ship can. I’m so nervous”
“I came here to complete my training, but instead I got into some high school drama, and we’re trying to find out who’s the most popular sith in the Academy. Hey, Vette, I have your vote, right?”
“My whole life has been some hell, but it’s about to change now that I have this big bloodthirsty, grumpy and constantly nostalgic scary guy who eats people. My very first friend”
“Oh yeah, I’m that famous pirate. I do a lot of… pirating… stuff. Oh, you think I’m an impostor? Well, maybe that’s the Red Blade YOU have met was an impostor! I bet he’s jealous I’m prettier than him”
“I left for FIVE minutes, and now everyone is dead because of some dude who has no taste in make-up whatsoever, and the big worm gave the token to some lizard instead of me, what are the odds?”
What are your thoughts on the lyrics of Dangerous Animals?
I love Dangerous Animals. The lyrics to me always embodied a sexual frustration/tension/desire he can’t get to. There are a lot of phrases in that song that fit each other “pinned down by the dark, to my knees you do promote me.” Humbug era Alex lyrics are trickier to decipher, especially a song like this. He tends to bounce around, with long winded ideas and concepts that leave you a little breathless and confused. However, his theme and mood are still cast pretty strong. I always liked in Dangerous Animals how he describes the acrobat falling off the beam, the audience watching. Those lines are consistent with the album’s overall theme and tone, the nonsense and the like… Carnival imagery he refers to throughout the entire album. I have another ask about Humbug, and I will write about this more in depth in that.
Anyway, I’ve always struggled with understanding what his message is in this song. Since I can’t actually go and ask him, and if I could he wouldn’t tell me, I can only guess. Usually my guesses have more confidence but this one I never really was so sure. Because he like steers the lyrics in a different direction out of nowhere. I’ll try my best, but don’t take my word for it. And if you have thought otherwise this entire time and want to disagree with me, you can. I have a very weak argument. I’m not sure if I’m right on this one.
The first verse starts with him fighting with his sheets, or struggling to sleep, because he’s frustrated. The well-told gripe. He just wants a girl. “You should have racing stripes the way you keep me in pursuit.” Gets me every time. I don’t need to explain that. “Then do my knees you do promote me” - he’s almost at her mercy, as if to say being pushed down by this girl is a promotion. (Similar theme in She Does the Woods. “She turns my back to the earth and shows me that’s where I’m meant to be.” I’m just assuming by his consistent bottom position he likes to be… Dominated? Inappropriate. I digress.)
He’s stuck in the dark thinking of this girl. “The light it fidgets though, the thoughts’ll soon revert to you…” He’s stuck in the dark, or presumably at night (another major theme on this album; night time, sleep, darkness) thinking of her again. “About as bashful as a tribal dance” - tribal dances are the opposite of bashful. His thoughts aren’t bashful at all. They’re enough for him to later say “so let’s make a mess lioness.” His head pirouettes, or spins around more than he’d like to admit to himself or to the girl he’s thinking of.
The lines I have always struggled with are his circus sounding lines, which are the ones about the acrobat falling off the beam. Where did it come from? Are his friends the audience, divided, telling him how he should feel about this girl? Is it her friends telling her to stay away from him? Who is the acrobat on the beam? Was he just like… this sounds right I’m doing it? (Maybe?) Those lines always stuck out to me because I couldn’t figure them out. I can’t make sense of them. If you have an idea, tell me. I’d love to know.
Some people/interviewers said that AM was the sexy, raunchy album that was kind of unexpected. I always disagreed because of Dangerous Animals. It’s him expressing a frustration, something sexual and laced in desire he can’t let go of. He’s losing sleep over it. He just wants her, doesn’t know how to get to her. It’s been long enough now, so just make a mess already. That line makes my stomach flip, every time. “make a mess, lioness.” Ugh.
“Out,” Kent said, in a tone that implied he was being patient. “Do you want to go?”
“Uh –” Kent never asked anyone to go out first. Maybe he wanted to start their second season off differently? “Who else is going?”
Oh. Kent was asking Jeff to go somewhere with him personally, not as a part of a group. Jeff took another breath. “Uh, yeah, man. Where do you wanna go?” There were tons of places to choose from – it was Vegas, after all. Jeff had gone to quite a few with some of the other guys, though he couldn’t say he’d ever gotten out on the floor much.
“Dancing,” Kent said. “I don’t care where, really.” When Jeff opened his mouth, Kent raised a hand. “Scratch that. I do care. No country.”
Summary- you meet John at the winters and basically turn into Eliza during helpless
You stared at yourself in the mirror, wanting to rip this stupid dress off and burn it, put on a nightgown and slip into bed with a book. You were being forced to go to this year’s Winters Ball. Even though you were born into upper class society and raised to be like the people you were surrounded by daily, you hated hanging out with them and them in general. They were all so snobby and full of themselves, well, except the Schuyler’s.
For the past few months, ever since your brother went to war, you’ve been staying with them. You were close to all the sisters, grew up with them. They were basically your only friends growing up and only friends now. About a week ago, your brother sent you a letter asking you to attend the ball. According to him, even if you hated them, you were still a Washington.
The only reason you agreed is so that you could see George again, you missed him.
“I don’t want to go!” you yelled at Eliza as you turned to face her, who was finishing up herself.
“You have to.” she shot back.
“Everybody ready?” you heard Angelica yell. You let out a loud groan as you put on your shoes and headed downstairs.
“Come on, it will be fun.” Peggy smiled, running up behind you and pushing you down the stairs. She loved these things.
“He and Spade were just induplicable as a team – wonderful together. David is very acerbic and… he’s – you know, he’s a toughie. And Chris is a softie. You’ve got the best of Belushi and Aykroyd, of Abbott and Costello, of Martin and Lewis… You had just a perfect yin-yang situation with those guys.” - Dan Aykroyd
“A fantastic combination of ultimately innocent and ultimately jaded. They are the oil and vinegar of comedy.” - Mike Myers
“They would react to stress in different ways. Chris would get bigger, and David would – there’d be less of David. And I used to say that the amount of weight in the frame kind of stayed constant, you know, in a two-shot.” - Lorne Michaels
“They were funny, they were close, you could tell they were really good friends. And only real – really, really good friends can fight the way they fought. And they’d throw something, and not speak to each other for a couple hours, and we’d all sit there and laugh and watch this thing go back and forth.” - Bo Derek
“And when I’d visit those fools during the [Tommy Boy] shoot, they’d have little fights on occasion, and Farley would [laughs] have a snap and Spade… [laughs] Spade would be scared for his life. They were in love with each other – we all were! You know. But Spade and Farley had a definite… brotherly relationship.” - Adam Sandler
Those fools. The way everyone talks about those fools, and the way everyone smiles so much while talking about those fools.
But David Spade himself, every time he’s asked about Chris Farley, he always gives the same answers, usually “I think about him every day” or some variation thereof, and appears very stoic and tired like he’s climbed these same stairs too many times. It should be noted that this is likely because he once said “if I think about that for more than 5 seconds ill start bawling.”
Imagine for a moment most everyone in TFP got affected by Quillfire’s serum one day during battle.
What if Bulkhead got pricked by a quill and believed he was a flight frame? And argued vehemently with Ratchet like: “I don’t KNOW what’s wrong, but it’s YOUR job to find out why I can’t fly anymore!”
What if Ratchet got pricked too and started to become a crying woobie mess? Like he starts off “I really wish we weren’t at war. I don’t want to be fighting, it stresses me out…” but then Bulkhead yells at him and he’s like “I’m sorry!! I [sob] I don’t know what’s wrong with you– I must be the worst medic [weeps] EVER.”
Arcee gets pricked and she thinks she’s a swimming champ so she moves slowly like she’s walking underwater, has all her vents shut, and talks through coms only. She also doing the arm motions, or jumps up expecting to not sink so quickly back down to hard, hard ground. It’s quite a sight.
And Optimus gets pricked and thinks he’s a scout for some new and exciting, talent-packed stage show. He goes around critiquing everyone’s form and looking for acts. Like he looks at Arcee and is all
“Hm, an unusual technique, but I think I can squeeze your dance in somewhere.” Or Bulkhead is like “Watch this!” And jumps off a ledge and lands painfully so Optimus is like “Mm, you’ll hear back from us by next cycle. Next!” And he turns to Ratchet, looks him up and down, and just says “No.” So Ratchet cries even more…
Anyways this whole time Bee is looking up research on the Autobot’s database with Raf, trying to figure out how to fix this, while Miko and Jack help by looking up similar, human examples of delusions/hallucinations and their respective solutions. Well, Jack is mostly doing the bulk of that work; Miko can’t look away from the silliness happening before her eyes. And of courae, Megatron and his crew are busting a gut watching everything unfold.
“Shouldn’t we kill them all now, my Lord? They are completely open to an attack!” Starscream asks. He agrees this is hilarious, but it would he nice to, you know, end the war right here and now while the Autobots look like fools.
“Relax, Starscream. Things are just starting to get good!” Knock Out says. Just then Optimus the talent scout wanders up to them.
“Is it too much to ask for a few good acts in this town?” He says to his crowd.
“Haha, you said it Big O.” says Knock Out. Megatron and the Vehicons chuckle.
“Say, you, red rod. You seem to have a knack for humor.” Optimus works out aloud.
“Oh yeah?” Knock Out plays along.
“Yeah, and you’re pretty charming too. You got the looks, the personality…Red Rod, I think you could go places, you really know how to work a crowd. Want a gig?”
“OhHO, finally someone who recognizes my talents!” Knock Out says with glee, “But sorry Big Rig, I don’t do stand up.” Optimus shrugs.
“Hmph, your loss. Not everyone has what it takes to be a star.”
“Oh! Of course! I know who I can get to work the crowd!”
“And who would that be?” A Vehicon says, keeping it up.
“I got a friend back in Kaon. A real showman. These days he’s in the Pits but he sends me some of the stuff he writes and it’s real good!”
“He’s got some great insight on current events…”
Megatron starts to curl his fist.
“His material is always fresh, and really grabs people…”
Megatron starts to charge his canon.
“And you should hear his poems!”
Talent scout Optimus begins to recite something he sent Orion, a long, LONG time ago.
“Ah, I don’t do it justice. Just wait until you hear HIM say it. We’re looking to open tonight at…”
Megatron starts to walk away.
“My Lord?” says the SIC.
“Come, Starscream.” says Megatron, “There is work to be done. Tomorrow is another day.”
And also the reuniting of Overwatch, and Jesse McCree’s back story.
Question Four: Why do you like it so much?
Omigod. This requires a list. Possible spoilers so if you want to read this, skip to the TL;DR.
For starters, the pacing in this is amazing. I tend to see a lot of pacing issues in fan fics. Normally things happen entirely too fast and it feels forced.
Then there is the detail and the way the characters are portrayed. Their motivations are wonderful. The way everything is just so casual but not is wonderful. Watching (Reading) these two fall in love is wonderful.
And then there is Jesse McCree. I have a weak spot for guys who are battling their own demons and man Does McCree have his fair share of demons. It is wonderful. The portrayal of his reactions and his panic attacks are amazing. I could read stuff like that for days. Days.
Character development! I am going to be honest. I went into this not expecting much. I used to read fan fic a long time ago and I rarely if ever actually enjoyed them. The ideas were always good but poorly executed. Seeing this much depth and growth within the characters from “Hang the Fool” was truly amazing and I need more. I need it.
The conflicts, the imagining of Talon and Reyes’ involvement, the growth of Overwatch, the concern of characters for each other, the human emotions. Seriously, this person needs to be like a published author is they aren’t already. I really love this.
Question Five: How long is it?
About 22 chapters. Long enough that it took me about three days of reading and put my other books on the back burner.
Question Six: Age rating?
I normally don’t add this question to a review but I think that a lot of the McHanzo fics may end up being M (for mature). This one is definitely mature, and not just because of the sex. Events that take place, emotions, reactions, PTSD. All those things make it M.
Question Seven: What would I rate this?
A solid 8 or 9 out of 10. Seriously. Go read this. Read this fic right now. It gave me life. Even if you don’t know or play or care about Overwatch, it stands alone as an awesome story regardless. READ IT.
I read a fan fic called “Hang the Fool”
It is based on the Overwatch, McHanzo fandoms.
It is so good and you should read it. Like stop reading this and go read that.
The pacing, character development, and over all writing is fantastic.
It is M for mature, and I give it a pretty high rating.
GO READ IT
Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd because we are all talking about this fandom already…(I know I already did Overwatch, but I don’t care)
Request: @meredith9811 :May I request a Sherlock x Reader where she is young but she has fallen in love with the Holmes and he finds himself in love also, but he will not confess because she is so young. Does that make sense? Haha sorry if it’s a lot.
You pressed the doorbell of 221B, trying desperately to stay out of the rain. You were ushered upstairs by a charismatic landlady who offered you some tea. You smiled and thanked her as you sat down in a stiff chair facing the fireplace.
“Ah, finally a client.” A voice came out of the kitchen and sat in a black chair next to you: Sherlock Holmes.
“Well I’m not exactly a client.” You said, and you could tell he was trying to study you.
“If you’re not my client then who is?” He asked, steepling his fingers in a dominant fashion.
“I can’t give you much information, doctor-patient confidentiality and all that, but I do need your help.” You said, crossing your legs. You saw his eyebrow raise, suspiciously.
“How are you a doctor? You must be twenty.” You asked.
“Twenty-five actually, and I’m a doctor of psychology, I have my own practice.” You smiled, you were used to this by now.
“How can you be so young?” He asked.
“I graduated from Oxford, top of my class at 18, medical school 20, and then opened my own practice, but that’s not why I’m here.” You pushed. You watched again as Sherlock eyed you, his was clearly attracted to you, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.
“But.. how?” He asked again.
“What? Like it’s hard?” You smirked, before carrying on, “Like I said I can’t tell you much, but someone of significance to my patient was recently killed in an… unusual way, and immediately after he contacted a therapist, not the police or a detective.
“How unusual?” He asked curiously.
“‘Quite literally– death by a thousand cuts. Now I can’t tell you who he is, but I can steer him into your path. I have another session with him in an hour, maybe if he saw you around my office he might reach out to you, or at the very least you could read him yourself.” You said.
“Oh this is a good one, you’re spoiling me Ms…?” He asked for your name.
“Y/L/N. Y/N Y/L/N.” You smiled.
“Well Y/N, why come to me?” He asked.
“Well, I wrote my thesis on the science of deduction, I found your website, thought finally someone who speaks my language. And you’re a mild celebrity, though I try to avoid it, I do watch the news. And I need your help.” You pleaded.
“I’ll do it.” He smiled.
“Four o’clock.” You smiled, standing and handing him your business card with your office address on it.
“Sorry I’ve got to run. I’m conducting a seminar on multiple personalities and it takes forever to fill out the name tags.” You grabbed your bag and exited the room, on your way down the stairs you passed a man heading to see Sherlock. John Watson, you recognized him from the blog.
“Hey Sherlock, who was that?” John asked after you had left.
“Client.” He smiled, leaning against the window, watching you flag down a cab.
“You like her.” John teased.
“No I don’t.” He lied.
“You’re still looking at her.” John observed. Sherlock looked away from the window quickly. “Who is she?”
“Dr. Y/N Y/L/N.” He smiled.
“Doctor? John was taken aback.
“There are still incredible people who walk among us.” Sherlock answered, slipping on his long coat.
“Sherlock where are you going?” John yelled as Sherlock ran down the stairs.
“The game is on!” He yelled, slamming the door.
“Dr. Y/L/N, there’s a Mr. Holmes here to see you.” Your receptionists said through the phone.
“Thank you Erin.” You said, putting the phone back on the receiver, and leaving your office.
“You’re early.” You smiled as you saw Sherlock standing in your office.
“Maybe I just really needed to see a doctor.” He smirked.
“Clearly.” You smirked.
“Y/N.” Your receptionist said, and you turned to face her. “Your four o’clock just called and canceled.”
“Shit, give me his file.” You ordered, she pulled it from the cabinet and placed it in your hand. You searched it for his address. You had to find him, you knew if he didn’t show up he might kill again. Obviously that was what happened the first time, he killed his flatmate.
You handed the file to Erin and she knew that you might be out for a while and not make it back for your next appointment.
“You have a session with your multiple personality at 6:00.” Erin said as you were heading towards the door.
“Not to worry. If I’m late he can just talk amongst himself.” You called back, pulling Sherlock out the door for you two to hail a cab.
Once in the car, you handed the file to Sherlock. Doctor-patient confidentiality gets thrown out the window if the patient has a potential to harm themselves or others.
“He craves power over others, since he has a lack of power in his own life. If I’m right about this, he killed his flatmate and is about to kill again. The method of death by a thousand cuts, or lingchi, is a very personal act. For someone like this, guns are too quick. They can’t savor all the little emotions. They start with the eyes, rendering the rest of the process even more psychologically terrifying for the victim. This gives them control, the victim’s life is in their hands, they can keep cutting and cutting until they’re satisfied, slowly, savoring it.” You explained as Sherlock read the file.
“So we can suspect it’s someone of significance to him. Why kill the flatmate? Had he wronged him in some way?” Sherlock asked.
“He said they got on well, and the police still think it was a random murder. But the police are idiots and my patient was obviously lying. You should have seen him, behavioral pauses and delays, verbal and nonverbal disconnects, hiding the mouth and eyes, throat-clearing and swallowing, he’s not very good at lying. The flatmate was sleeping with his girlfriend. She could be the next target.” You said, and Sherlock was staring at you in an odd way.
“What?” You asked, he was still staring and it was starting to concern you.
“It’s just that you’re so… mature and intelligent… and you should definitely should branch into criminal investigation.” He said, dumbfounded.
“You’re not the first to try to recruit me Sherlock Holmes.” You smirked.
“Oh really, who was?” He asked.
“MI6, the government, and a man named Mycroft Holmes, your brother I’m assuming.” You smiled.
“My brother tried to recruit you to work for the government?” Sherlock asked.
“Oh yes, he was very kind. He said I was perspicacious, and preeminent in my field.” You smiled, and the cab halted to a stop. The two of you rushed out.
You broke into the flat and stopped your patient from killing his girlfriend. She was tied up and he had injected her with opium to dull the pain so the process could last longer. Sherlock called the police, after a short row with your patient. He tried to escape and Sherlock caught him, and also received a punch to the face that was now swelling.
You now stood in 221B, helping Sherlock get all doctored up. You left the room to grab something for Sherlock, and left him with John.
“Sherlock… She’s a bit young for you, don’t you think?” John nagged.
“Who said anything about romantic entanglement?” Sherlock asked, defensively.
“You did, in all forms short of physical speech.” John answered.
“I know she’s a little younger than me, but John I’ve never felt like this before and it’s strange and new and I don’t know what to do!” Sherlock whisper yelled.
“A little younger, Sherlock she’s 10 years younger!” John yelled back just as you had entered the room. Sherlock looked apologetically up to you when he saw the look on your face. You had fallen for Sherlock Holmes.
“Uh, I’d love to stay, but I…” You said, thinking of an excuse as you gathered your things, ”I have my therapy group meeting… and the last time I was late the, er, compulsive gamblers were betting the passive aggressors that they couldn’t make the overeaters… cry.”
You headed down the stairs, surprised when you heard Sherlock running down after you. He grabbed your arm when you hit the coat rack downstairs.
“Y/N, wait, please.” Sherlock stopped you.
“No, I should go.” You tried to leave, but he stopped you.
“You truly are brilliant, and beautiful, and I would be a fool to let you walk out of here right now. You are the first woman who I’ve felt this way around. At first I was hesitant, because of the slight age difference, but now I see that that doesn’t matter and age is just a number.” Sherlock began.
“Sherlock–” You tried, but he cut you off.
“Would you like to have dinner with me?” He asked.
i'm waiting for Voltage to make a season where the Bidders go to Las Vegas aka Sin City
like just imagine the drama there could be in Las Vegas :
- who has the bigger and best Hotel & Casino
- who has the best Black Market (a secret though, right?)
- which Mob is the strongest and most powerful
- who steals the most
- who’s more artistic
- who solves or gets the most cases
- race wars (bc why tf not?)
- possibly open up a club (Club Tres Spades?)
- endless rivals from right and left
- AKA SIN CITY THESE FOOLS BELONG HERE AT LEAST FOR A VISIT
like the list drama can go on for a bit more and that’s literally a whole season for all the characters. I NEED THE BIDDERS IN LAS VEGAS AKA SIN CITY I WANT MORE DRAMAAAAAA!!!! VOLTAGE IM WAITING! I WANT THIS CONCEPT
Tags: female reader, hurt reader, fluff, canon compliant, protective Steve Rogers, fear of the dark, spoilers for Captain America: Civil War
Summary: Reader has noticed Steve acts like he isn’t a 6"2 muscle man at times, and curiosity mixed in with a fear of the dark leads to a path in which the pair of them discover things about one another.
Word Count: 2,3,29
Posting Date: 2016-05-31
Current Date: 2017-05-13
The first time you notice that Steve Rogers feels like a little man is after a serious debriefing after a botched mission in an island just off India. That day, you’d been walking past the glass office in the Avengers base to see Steve being reprimanded for his actions (saving a child and grandfather from a tank truck at the risk of another Avenger). He had been shaking. Like Fury’s words were going straight through him.
That moment had struck you, and maybe it was because of the aftershock of the events, but it caused you to rethink exactly what you thought of the brave Captain America. Asking around was hard; everyone in the base knew him to be the legend of the 1940’s, but Thor, who really liked his admirable courage, but that was granted. Thor liked everyone who wasn’t trying to kill him.
The second time you saw Steve acting small was the day the power went out. Stark had rigged the new suit to the local power grid, and half a kilometer radius around the base lost their electricity. Thus, leaving F.R.I.D.A.Y nonoperational, the team in the dark that night, and you in the thing you hated more than wet socks in winter. Yeah, so what, you were an Avenger who wasn’t too fond of the dark; everyone knew this, and that was why you had a moon-shaped night light to “scare off the monsters”, as Clint’s youngest put it.
“Steve?” you wandered to his room, feeling his decorations on the door. “Steve, are you awake?”
There was a grunt, and then the sound of feet and the door opening. “Yeah, I’m awake. I take it’s the -,”
You grunt. “Yeah. Could I - I mean, it sounds weird, and you’re a war hero and I’m less trained to be an Avenger than -,”
You feel his hand find yours, and lead you inside. “Everyone’s afraid of something. Come on, you can have the bed.”
At this, you recoil, almost slipping your hand from his warm grip. “Oh no, I can’t do that to you, not in your own room, Steve,” you whisper. “Your bed should be big enough, and I’m sure you can fight the dark if it comes to eat me.”
You hear his chuckle. “Sure. But don’t get the wrong idea, okay?”
As the pair of you find the bed in the dark, you come to the realisation once Steve is under the covers of two things: that it is a single bed, the sort you haven’t slept on since you were a child, and second - that Steve believes himself to be much smaller than he is.
“Steve,” you whisper, “I’ll have to either sleep on you, or we’ll have to…cuddle.”
You can almost hear his blush. “I’m sorry, I forgot…”
Shaking your head, you go to lay beside Steve on what bed is left beside his muscles. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone that I snuggled with Captain America.”
Steve shook his head. “I forgot I was big.”
You frown, drawing the covers around you. “Big? You mean, the serum?” your eyes widen, and you add, “Oh my gosh, I never thought! You were small for twenty five years, and then…”
Outside, the sound of rain paraded on the windows.
“I’ll tell you in the morning if you sleep,” Steve’s voice rumbled in your ear.
Closing your mouth, you nudged his chest with your chin, and sighed. “Good night, Stevie.”
It must have been hours later, but when your eyes opened, there were many things you were aware of. The glow of no rain and freshly watered lawn out the window. Crunchy sheets, in a room that wasn’t yours. Slowly, you remembered the words you shared before falling into sleep, and turning, you heart plummeted.
He was gone.
“He’s a A-list Avenger, ______,” you reprimand yourself quietly, rising from Steve’s small bed. “He’s probably getting ready for training the newbie’s…where you should be too.” At this, you make your way to your closet, throw on training clothes, and run into elevator to the correct floor. “Stupid. You’re just a foot soldier -,”
As the elevator doors open, you’re greeted with the face of Tony Stark, chugging what smells like the strongest coffee to be brewed in this side of the galaxy. “You looking for the Cap?” he raises a brow, lowering his cup. Unknown to the mechanic, you see he has two moustaches; one of manicured dark hair, the other foam.
“I thought it was training day?” you wonder, stepping around the billionaire. “I’m late, and -,”
The Iron man shrugs a shoulder, and takes a sip of coffee. “That it is; _______, but since the trainer is away on business to England, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to sleep in with biceps.”
You feel a blush coming on. “How do you know about that?”
Tony shrugs, and presses the close button on the elevator. “I sleep in the next room over, and Dad didn’t exactly soundproof these rooms…” his speech is cut off with the doors shutting him off, and you with a chill down your back. What business would have Steve run away to England? You take a step toward the opposite direction of the training room, and freeze.
“You look a little pale, ______, are you okay?” Wanda appears around the corner, eyes wide.
For a moment, you are okay; you steady yourself on the banister on the edge of the floor. But your head is spinning; worse than anything you’ve ever felt, maybe ever. You teeter to and fro with every second, every thought; of course Steve go straight to England in the event of – and he’d shared the bed with you the night previous – and now he’s gone off to the service –
Everything goes dark, and you’re going down.
“Everyone step back! It’s one thing to flock around an unconscious Avenger on the field, but – she’s waking!” the voice of Clint Barton scorns everyone. “Hey there, sweetheart, you took quite the fall. You’re lucky you only broke your entire right leg.”
Thor makes a noise. “Clint,” he cautions.
Nat crosses her arms. “What was it, ______? You’ve never done that before in your life! Why didn’t you do anything to break the fall?”
You take a deep breath, and blink the stickiness in your aside. From what you can tell, what, with the entire team surrounding you that you’re in the infirmary Tony keeps running for Dr Cho to operate when she’s around the area, and Bruce to keep his med practice up when someone gets a boo-boo.
“I think I had an anxiety attack or something,” you murmur. “I couldn’t control myself, and I just – is Steve okay? Where is he? Peggy Carter -,”
Tony winced from beside Rhodey. “Sorry. I broke the news.”
Vision crossed his arms. “Tony, you know as much as all of us that Miss _______ has idolised Miss Carter all of her life. If that didn’t cause the attack -,”
You shook your head. “I’m okay, guys, seriously.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Someone update my definition of ‘okay’, because last time I checked, there was no synonym to ‘fractured femur and tibia’.” He laid a hand on the white sheets of the bed, and sighed. “Don’t have to be brave to fool us. We’ve all been here.”
Bruce nodded. “Sam’s right,” he took a deep breath, and added, “You’re not okay. You’re going to need crutches, and a fair amount of bed rest and no missions until a full recovery.”
Clint disappeared from the bedside as Nat spoke up. “Don’t freak out. It just means you can have arm day…for almost two months.”
“Nobody’s heard from Steve for a bit,” Scott Lang spoke up, answering your query. “As far as we know, he’s on a flight back soon.”
“Thank you,” you whisper.
Clint appeared back at the bed, holding a colourful triangle-shaped glass and an burgundy umbrella balanced on the side. “This should make you feel better, ______.”
Bruce made a noise. “She can’t have alcohol with the amount of pain medicine she’s on!”
Clint huffed. “What do you think I am, an animal? Of course this isn’t alcoholic; it’s _______’s favourite cordials. Geez, I’m not irresponsible all the time, I’m a father.”
Days pass without Steve. You practice learning how to walk again with crutches, but mostly eat what Scott makes (the man sure knows how to make French toast) and when the twins aren’t off on missions with Thor and Nat, you hear their stories and have movie nights. But it’s a rainy Tuesday evening when the Avengers base is greeted by two arrivals; a familiar face, and one new. You were in the middle of watching ‘Ponyo’ when the power shut off.
“Scott?” you call out tentatively. Silence. “Anyone? It’s dark.”
But all you could hear was the howling of wind and smattering of rain on the glass. Slowly, you gather you crutches, and the comforter you dragged from Steve’s bed – nobody had dared argue with you, since he was all you asked for since the accident – and take a few steps toward where you thought your room was. Luckily you were on the lounge in your level. But before you know it, you’ve walked smack into a wall, and hitting your head hard on something cold, you feel you’re going down. This time, though, you’re conscious as you land on your butt.
“______?” the wall asks.
“Conscious?” you whisper, wondering why Steve’s voice would be in your head. For a moment, there’s a flash of violent lightning, and before you, the face of Steven Grant Rogers and a man with short hair and a sad face is illuminated. “Steve!”
The voice to the other man rumbles. “This is your friend?”
You go to stand, rearranging your crutches to get up again. “Uh, yeah. We’re friends. Team mates. Who -,” there’s another flash of lighting, and at the angle you’re at now, with both feet flat on the ground, you have a better look at the man’s face. “You’re James Barnes!”
Steve chuckles, and explains, “She studied The Howling Commandos when she was in school, Buck.”
You’d be more excited that Steve had found his estranged friend and ex-Hydra puppet…if it weren’t so dark. “Before I ran into you guys I was off to bed. Super tired, doing nothing. I’ll see you in the morning, so…” you made a small smile, and scrunched your face up. “See you.”
“I’ll escort you if you like,” Steve suggested. “Bucky knows where his room is already. Is that okay?” he asks his friend. You’re so glad it’s a black out for a moment despite your fear, as these super powered men don’t have privy to your blushing cheeks. “Buck?”
Bucky snorts. “Sure. See you in the morning, Steve.”
You feel Steve’s hands on yours, and still. “What happened? Did you get hurt?”
You nod, and start the crutches-hobble in the direction of Steve’s footsteps, “Yeah, but not in a cool way.”
Steve makes a noise. “What’s a cool way to be hurt? I thought being hurt wasn’t fun.”
You nod. “It isn’t fun…but a cool way to be hurt is like stacking a skateboard down a hill, or doing a jump on a motorbike wrong, not falling off the balcony indoors.”
If it were light, you’d see Steve’s perfect eyebrows skyrocket their way up into his perfect hair. “You fell off the balcony? Don’t tell me Pietro dared you to walk on the banister.” Another flash of lightning showed that there were only a few more steps until your door.
“That was one time, Steve, I swear.” You grumble.
Pushing your door open, Steve leads the way into the room. “What was it then?”
“I heard Peggy was…” you can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. “And I thought you’d feel really guilty after bed sharing with me the night before -,”
You watch Steve set his jaw. “You fell off the balcony because you heard your idol died?”
You shake your head. “She’s yours, too, Steve! She’s Peggy freaking Carter! And I got a little upset! I have a right to, you know – I’m human!”
A crash of thunder rocked the room.
“I know you’re human,” Steve says quietly. “And I’d apologise for not saying goodbye, but I had to go.”
You nod, and quietly, you sigh. “I’m sorry I got upset. I think I have feelings for you? And then Peggy made it harder, and I broke my entire right leg, and you didn’t radio in to tell anyone what was happening with you, and I think I like you a lot, Steve.” You blurt.
“And you haven’t told me about how you feel being…this size?” you wonder if that’s the right way to put it.
In a flash of lightning, you see Steve nod, and reach around you to close the door. “Come on, I’ll tell you if you go to sleep.” He cracks a rare Steve smile and adds, “Like a bedtime story of my life.”
Carefully, you make your way into the right side of your queen-sized bed, and for the second time that day (the first being napping through your ‘The Hobbit’ marathon), you’re glad you’re in comfy clothes that double easily as pyjamas.
“It feels like I’m still skinny,” Steve starts, peeling off his hoodie and jeans, leaving boxers and his white tee on, “Like it’s a suit, something temporary that will over time just fade away and I’ll be back to being 5”4 Steve Rogers from Brooklyn again. I had asthma and arrhythmia, and a bunch of other things wrong with me – even now, if a kid had those things, they wouldn’t live long.” He settles into the bed opposite you, carefully with his big frame, trying not to jostle your plastered leg. “Then I met a doctor, Dr Erkstine…”