bakerstreet | Stray

S T R A Y

Taking in strays is, all in all, an understandable vice. The dips in between their ribs, those large and forlorn eyes, they can help you forget the claws and the teeth and the danger lurking beneath fur. But the habit's a knife edge; your efforts may not be rewarded with kindness (animal instincts aren't discretionary) and you may get bit despite what you've overlooked. A stray doesn't care about pity. All it can know is survival.

These warnings apply to strays of the more human(oid) sort, too.

But what may even more perilous with this type than any drawn blood is what you can get when they grow to trust you. You can earn their undying loyalty...or their love. Either from such a wild thing is a precarious path to go down, if you allow yourself to do it.

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ғɪɴᴅɪɴɢ — Who's that? They're no ordinary passersby! Were they in an accident? Are they foreign? ...should you approach them?

ʀᴀɪɴ, ʀᴀɪɴ, ɢᴏ ᴀᴡᴀʏ — The elements make this night no time to sleep out of doors.

ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ — Cuts, broken bones, injuries all of sorts...you have to stitch them back up, then make sure they don't get any

ɢᴏᴏᴅ ɢᴜᴇsᴛ — It's all you can do to show gratitude to the person who took you in. Fix them a meal, care for their house, whatever you can do once you're able.

ʙᴀᴅ ɢᴜᴇsᴛ — FUCK THIS PERSON AND FUCK THEIR COUCH. You didn't ask to be brought here. Let them clean up after you, you don't even care.

ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴍ ɪ? — How you got into this situation is a mystery. Even more of a mystery is your identity, and why the person you were would be so displaced.

sᴇʟғʟᴇssɴᴇss —

ʟᴇᴀʀɴɪɴɢ — If you've been injured badly enough or can't remember all too well, you might have to relearn a good deal. Luckily, you have a helping hand.

sᴄᴀʀs — Scars from the encounter that lead you here or scars from prior, you don't want them to see either. You still have your secrets to keep.

sᴛᴜʙʙᴏʀɴ — Ugh, your house guest is so stubborn! They always get up when they should be resting, have the worst habits, and completely disrespect your home! You'll get to them, one way or another. Or you'll throw them out. You don't want to, but you will.

ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ — Bad memories or nightmares wreck you; your host and nurse comes to your side unexpectedly.

ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄʟᴀsʜ — The person who's taken you in is from a different culture or lifestyle than you, and adapting is harder than you thought.

ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ — Think learning about a new culture is hard? Try being a different species. Can you keep your little eccentricities at bay for the good of your station?

ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsʏ — Now that your emotions towards your caretaker/host/jailer are softening, you're finding yourself unusually jealous of those in their life who were close to them before.

ɴᴇᴡ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴠɪᴛɪᴇs — You never thought you'd have fun after all that's happened, yet such simple gestures as a picnic or a movie make all the difference.

ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ — You love them, this person who's taken you in or this person you've found. It's not a pity or a thankfulness, it's love, and you know that now. What you choose to do with this information is

ʜɪsᴛᴏʀʏ — Suddenly, the person who's been so nice to you finds out that the two of you have a history. You killed their loved ones or caused something terrible. How can they forgive you?

ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ — So much has been done for you. The least you can do in return for the one who helped you at your lowest is make sure they never have such a low point.

ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴇs ᴋɴᴏᴄᴋɪɴɢ — Anyone in the way of getting to you will be destroyed, and that includes the person you're staying with.

ʟɪᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇᴍ — You've been given a home, maybe which you've never had before. You don't want to leave.

ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ — Not only are you living with them, but you're starting a proper life with them.

ʀᴇᴠᴇᴀʟ — All secrets are laid out on the table. You've decided to tell about your past and what lead you here.

ʀᴇᴠᴜʟsɪᴏɴ — What you've done and who you are is so heinous, they want nothing more to do. You're to leave their home and leave them alone.

ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ — It doesn't matter what they've done. You've opened your home and your heart to them, and nothing's changed.

ᴘᴀʀᴛɪɴɢ — All things must come to an end. No matter what you feel for each other, it's time to leave. Hopefully, you'll see each other again.

ʜᴀᴘᴘɪʟʏ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ — Come what may, you've decided to stay at your new home with the person you love. Now, it's safe enough to do so.

ᴡɪʟᴅᴄᴀʀᴅ

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Natasha was very aware of every step Steph took. It wasn't anything to do with Cap herself, but just Nat's built-in paranoia. So when the blonde followed her into the kitchen, she tossed a phone in here direction without looking up from what she was doing. She trusts your reflexes, Steph. "You don't have to thank us." She leaned her hip against the bench and pointed a spoon at Steph. "We're here for you, no matter what Ross tosses our way."

"We were all being careful. Ross is just..." Nat shrugged and went back to 'cooking'. "We'll get through this, Rogers. I promise." The offer was met with a wry smile and maybe even a soft snort of a laugh from Nat. "I'd rather not burn down this safe house. I happen to like this one."

"Besides, it's just mac 'n cheese. A family recipe passed down for generations." She teased and tossed the empty blue box in the trash. "I think I can handle it. Just get comfortable."

She caught the phone, then sighed. "It didn't have to be like this." She was still mad that the Accords had been snuck on them instead of the U.N. and the world's governments working together with them to find some compromise, which then led to this awful divide among her friends. She hadn't wanted to choose sides, and she especially hadn't wanted to be at odds with Tony, but what else could she have done?

For now, though, there was nothing else to do but lay low. Bucky was safe in Wakanda, and the others were out of the Raft. There were still bad guys to stop, but they could wait a few days more.

"Hey, I make a good meatloaf," she protested with a laugh. Just because her cooking was still reminiscent of the old days didn't mean she couldn't. She stepped away from the counter. "Thanks. I'm gonna take a shower."

And, because this was something she and Nat did to each other now, she teased, "You're welcome to join me if you want."

Natasha hated it too. She'd grown comfortable with this little found family and trusted them with her life. Then this whole thing split them up. She knew how it happened. She had profiled Tony before. He was stricken with guilt over something and it had driven his actions. Like with Ultron.

"Well, I'll have to pick up ingredients for meatloaf then. We can switch it up." Because she doubted Steph wanted to eat macaroni every day for dinner.

"You're gonna be surprised when I actually take you up on that." She sent Steph a playful smirk and a wink.

Steph really really shouldn't, but she was an idiot with no sense of self-preservation, so she said, "Try me," as she'd assumed Nat was bluffing. This was just the redhead's thing, to get a reaction out of people — Steph's especially. Surely Nat hadn't figured out (or would've even spent time thinking about) the fact that Steph liked women too, that that one kiss had been on her mind since?

Grinning, she left the kitchen to start on the said shower. She felt a little lighter now than she'd been before she'd arrived, which she'd chalked up to relief. The fighting could wait for another day or two. Or so she hoped, anyway.

Oh, Cap, don't play gay chicken with the pansexual Russian super spy. Because once the macaroni was done and dished up, she slipped into the bathroom and out of her clothes silently. She had the decency to don a bath robe that she barely held together and knocked on the fogged glass door.

"Room for two? Or were you bluffing?"

Well, shit.

She had been bluffing. But she had the terrible tendency of throwing her full weight into a fight when she got backed into a corner, and this situation, she found, wasn't quite so dissimilar. Or maybe she was just tired and lonely and she wanted the connection more desperately than she realized. Whatever the reason, she opened the door, resisting the urge to cover herself up since she was, well, committed now.

"Hey. Come on in." (If she's blushing, it was just because of the hot water!)

Language, Ms. Rogers! Or, so Stark would say if he were here and had mind reading capabilities.

Widow was playful in flicking her gaze up and down Steph's form before shrugging off her robe and stepping in with the blonde.

"Not that red, white, and blue spandex leaves much to the imagination, but I'm not disappointed." Not that her catsuit is any better. Though, she did leave a bit of distance between them, letting Cap set the comfort level.

"Thanks. I guess?" Steph had always been terrible at taking compliments in relation to her looks and body, especially since she had such a complicated relationship with it. But, in this particular scenario, she was also thoroughly distracted by Nat's own.

She'd seen her share of hot, naked women, even sketched nudes on occasion just for fun. But this was someone she knew personally and had some lingering feelings for. "You look great," she managed, and though she probably shouldn't, she found herself stepping just a little closer. She swept her gaze from the redhead's face down to her neck, then lower, and lower. She swallowed. "I wanna... sketch you..." Among other things.

She reached for the body wash and lathered up a sponge with a playful smirk still on her lips.

"Not the reaction I was expecting." But she wasn't disappointed with it either. She started soaping herself up slowly, perhaps a bit deliberately, as she kept eye contact with Steph. "But I won't say no."

Well, Steph's art was precious to her. She wouldn't just draw anyone in such an intimate way if she didn't feel something for them.

"What did you expect me to say? That you have great tits?" Nat did, but Steph wasn't sure if that would be taken as a compliment or earn her a roll of the eyes; in her case, for example, she wasn't particularly fond of people commenting about her ass, seeing as it didn't really feel like it belonged to her.

She tried to keep eye contact, but in the end she was the first to look away, her gaze following Nat's hands as the redhead soaped herself up. This was so new, she didn't really know what to do. She knew what she wanted, though, and even just the thought of it already made her face grow hot.

Stray

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