bakerstreet | Frustation Fruition

[OOC: Yes/No?]

(( omg, definitely a yes c: ))

[OOC: Great! Let me know if this needs tweaking.]

There are much worse reasons to have a busy couple of weeks, Kieran reminds himself, as he struggles to keep his car under the speed limit or to refrain from passing illegally around a particularly slow-moving SUV. The last thing he wants right now is to get pulled over, and with his luck lately, that's exactly what will happen now that he's on the way to Emma's house.

Every teacher at school has seemed to conspire against them, assigning papers and projects all at the same time. His car has broken down. Emma's gotten saddled with a bunch of extra shifts at work. Her mom needs help. He has to visit family. The whole world has seemed turned against them getting even a little bit of alone time for ages.

And then, a window opens-- Emma's mom is working a late, late shift tonight and Kieran is free and clear so that's why he's rushing as carefully as possible in her direction. By the time he's knocking on her front door, Kieran's almost bouncing in his boots in anticipation.

It's actually nice to be busy for once. Their lives have been insane for so long that the normalcy of school and work swamping her life is a welcome relief, and at first it's great. It's hard to think about murders when you don't have a moment free to yourself, but the novelty wears off just as fast. Business brings stress, and it's been weeks since she's had a moment with Kieran to herself. They have classes together, but it's not the same, and these days even their lunch periods are spent catching up on assignments.

When the stars finally align and they find the gap that's been overdue for days now, she can't even try to hide her excitement. She's up and answering the door in record time, and Emma takes all of a second to just beam at him before she steps over the threshold between them.

"I missed you," she says, quiet and under her breath as she hooks her arms around his neck and draws him in for a long overdue kiss.

Kieran doesn't have a chance to respond before Emma's mouth is on his, and there's no way talking is better than kissing his girlfriend after way, way too long. Except, his brain finally manages to think through the deepening haze of happy want, maybe kissing somewhere other than her front door.

Oxygen makes itself important after a bit, and Kieran has to back away just a few inches.

"Miss you, too," he finally says, then grins. "Upstairs?"

[[ooc- pre-death and destruction to their lives? Or reuniting post-breakup?]]

(( give me some post break up reunions i'm all about that trash life ))

Will couldn't sleep anymore. He wish it had been for reasons like Nina was dead and Tyler was missing; concerns that he ought to be worrying over with Emma. Instead, he was left tossing and turning over Emma. He just wanted things back to the way they used to be. Now he had dug himself into a hole and he was at square one re-earning her trust. He had truly taken what they'd had for granted. Now that she was at least willing to give him another chance, he was starting to realize what might be off limits still for a while.

Just that first kiss that afternoon had sent a shiver down his spine that he had long missed. Her closeness that he was once more allowed to have, stirred some familiar feelings as well as frustrations. Now as he lay awake in his bed, he couldn't help but want for her in a way that made him consider grabbing himself, but instead gave into a different urge.

Rolling over, he reached for his phone. Just maybe...

Hey. Are you up?

The thing is, it's really easy to hate him during the day. Reminders of every speed bump their relationship has hit are everywhere, she walks past the spot of their first date every day, remembers the way he used to lean over the counter to kiss her when he thought no one was looking at work -- it's constant and it's the most natural thing to hate him when every moment there's something rubbing the "good old days" in your face. The rage seethes and settles beneath her skin and it's easier to take every step with something like that fuelling every movement.

Without it, she's not sure if she'd be able to keep going at all, not with body counts growing and everyone -- everyone -- lying to her. But it's the middle of the night and it's hard to maintain hatred all day long. It's the middle of the night and she misses having a solid presence next to her, misses hands linked together in the middle of the night, misses--

Her phone buzzes and Emma's thoughts quickly change to the welcome distraction. The last thing she needs is to be thinking about Will, except of course that's who the message is from. She types out a few responses, varying from Very Angry 'leave me alone's to more sympathetic 'maybe we should talk later's, and she can't settle on anything. Finally, he gets something short and simple, far shorter than the near five minutes of typing that followed his text.

Yeah, I can't sleep. Why?

There is some relief when a response finally appears on the screen he so early sits staring at. Just the small response, the few words, are like quenching a thirst on a hot day. A smile involuntarily comes to his lips as he stares briefly at the words before starting to form a response.

Why can't you sleep?

I was just thinking of you. I miss you.

Truly he misses so much more. Her smell, her touch, her taste. Her presence, her closeness. True, they hadn't actually done it more than a handful of times before Brooke had opened her damn mouth at that party. However, while it may be just the hormones of a healthy teenage boy, he craves to be intimate with her again. The number of nights he had to satisfy himself simply with the memories were plentiful. He always respected what she wanted and how far she wanted to go- at least after that first time was out of the way and something more real had started to form.

( Kid does get frustrated a lot. )

(( interested in a little cross-canon? ))

[sure!]

IC Kink List: here
OOC Hard No's: noncon, characters under 16

Starters:
A | Generic bar hook up

It's been a rough day. Couple of days? More like rough forever. But today was especially a crap shoot. Sitting in a bar with a bottle of whatever fell under "something strong" and trying to push down turbulent feelings isn't exactly a comfort. No that would take the form of...

"Yo. Come here often?" He inquires of his neighbor at the bar counter. About the mustle subtle pick up as a blunt 'you down?', but he's not feeling real romantic right now what can he say.

B | Bodyguard and "Princess"

For whatever reason people are looking to kidnap [insert your character]. Zelos has gotten caught up in it. And he can't say he's feeling real chivalrous after having [your character] stolen right out from under him. Tracking the kidnappers down and sneaking into their base had been more than an thousand levels of obnoxious. Now as he opens the door of the jail cell [your character] had been languishing in he looks more than a little irked.

"We're screwing when we get out of here." Just saying. Might be a joke? ~~It's not a joke.~~ He heads for the door of the jail, alert for any guards that might stumble upon them. "Let's go, Princess."

((Feel free to sling me your own situation if these don't appeal. Pretty much open to most everything except the no's above. Will also match writing style, prose or action text are both fine.))

((I'll take "practically canon" for 200, Alex))

[ These days, it takes an international crisis situation and a call from Nick Fury to get Bucky Barnes stateside for more than a couple of days at a time. It takes an incident of comparable scope to galvanize the tentative alliance between Steve Rogers' crew of vigilante crime-fighters and the official, government-owned Avengers into an effective working partnership with Uncle Sam's seal of approval.

The threat of impending apocalypse has always been conducive to the formation of cooperative stances, and the U.S. government has always flip-flopped on its policy regarding civil liberties when it's convenient, so for most of the individuals gathered around the conference table tonight, this is old hat. Aside from a few snarks volleyed by Tony Stark during Secretary Ross's opening remarks, the air's congealed with the tension of restrained (semi-)professionalism.

No one is holding hands and singing Kumbaya, but they're cooperating like old pros because it's preferable to the alternative the psychotic nerds at A.I.M. have planned for them: being dissolved into grey goo by a raging swarm of sentient nanobots. Barnes is all the way in the back next to the water dispenser with the paper cups, grim-faced and spread out in that caricature of non-threat long ago factory installed by HYDRA. Tony Stark's up first, addressing pedantic tech details in a way that manages to be both interesting and informative. He speaks of peculiarities he's discovered regarding the bots' swarm pattern and how that's a clue to their programming that can be used to their advantage. As the man talks, Bucky stares alternately down at his own gloved hands, at some point in the middle distance and at the back of Steve's head.

Steve takes point next, cutting a lithe, stoic line that draws more than a few eyes (Bucky's included) as he makes his way to the front of the room. The past few days, Buck has seen more of Steve than he has in months, and now he finds himself caught on the sight of Rogers in his element, terse and incisive with that effortless authority of his. He meets Steve's eyes while he speaks and holds the stare for a while, brows drawn, pensive. All along, he'd figured it'd end up like this-- with them regarding one another from across the room, all business, rendered veritable strangers by the past that made him too restless to hold down a stable partnership. The particulars of their separation are still a raw spot in the back of his mind, but it's better this way. He's better off free to hop from country to country chasing down old enemies, tying up loose ends: it helps him sleep at night. It makes him feel more like a person than he has in a long, long time, and not even Steve could do that. (Of course, it's debatable he would've even gotten to the point where he actually gave a damn about anything other than base survival if it wasn't for Rogers' influence.)

And regardless, he can't take his eyes off the other man. His gaze trawls that statuesque form unabashedly the entire course of the debriefing, through questions, and as the others start to file out of the room. Even as Sharon Carter makes a sudden beeline toward the front with a tablet and stylus, he watches. And the muscles in his jaw twitch and bulge when he sees the way she touches Steve's arm. He doesn't talk until she's left the room and the door closes behind her, leaving them alone-- and he gets the feeling she took her time, too, after glancing up and catching his glower.

He fills one of those paper cups with water, downs it like a shot, then crushes it and tosses it in the garbage as he makes his way toward Rogers' spot at the head of the table. When he's close enough, he peeks at that tablet Sharon left, one dark brow raised. ] Looks like you two are getting along.

[ Sometimes, thing just won't work out. Sometimes two people are better apart than together, because life was never designed as a fairytale, and people need more than just love; no matter how deeply it runs between them. Steve holds on for as long as he can, running himself to the ground with a singular devotion that could belong to no one else but Bucky Barnes.

He was always Bucky's, from the day they'd first met on the playground to the day he walked away from him -- the hardest thing he ever had to do was to let him go, but Steve loved him enough to understand that he was never in the position to give Bucky what he so desperately needed.

He still is Bucky's, but he doesn't let himself wallow. He throws himself into one mission after another, because what else is there to do but to try to move on, dismantling the threats to the world as they come and trying not to see Bucky in every dark-haired, broad shouldered man that slips out the corner of his eye and disappears in the crowd. (He does, anyway; for those few moments he allows himself to hope, before the reality of Bucky's absence sets in again.)

Steve likes to think he's starting to get the hang of it.

A.I.M. is a recurrent problem, a growing nuisance that they have to act on as a team, and the team isn't without its frictions, a hodgepodge group united by a common threat. But past history aside, they are bound by the same goal: to effectively neutralise the threat, disarm A.I.M., and take all those responsible to task. Steve had been tracking them for many months, engaged with them in a dozen skirmishes during missions, but never one quite like this, with an endeavor that requires an entire array of moving parts and carefully crafted plans.

This time, they bring the fight to them. Even so, he's never been more aware of Bucky's presence in the room, always at the back, almost obscured by the others, a silent -- but powerfully compelling presence that Steve has to work hard to tear his eyes away from. They're on a mission, and he's half-sure Bucky will leave again as soon as it's over, quiet as a shadow as he makes his way out of Steve's life again.

He tries not to think about that, and it's only easy when he's caught up in mission parameters, when his incredible longing for Bucky can be shelved for a precious few minutes. He knows, too, that Bucky had been watching him for the entirety of the session, silent and unreadable -- is he proud of him? Steve might have been the captain way back when, but Bucky Barnes was the man who made things happen, who did the truly dirty work.

The worst thing to be to each other are strangers, even if they pretend otherwise while everyone is present. Sharon is the last to go, having forwarded him a list of coordinates she had looked into, flagging up A.I.M.'s contingency plans. He doesn't notice when she lingers, his thoughts immediately circling around deploying a few more teams to make sure those contingencies don't become a reality. He does notice when Bucky's jaw clenches, when the air around him is significantly more ominous for it. And, of course, it begs a pertinent question: is he jealous?

He looks up at Bucky when he comes over, the screen on the tablet dimming. Bucky's a touch different from when he'd last saw him; more put together, more himself, and it warms his heart and gives him heartache all the same. Better, healthier, less circles around the eyes.

Steve smiles anyway, a genuine one he reserves just for Bucky. ]

You look good. [ What does one really say to an estranged best friend and lover who comes back around again? Steve's been thinking on it the past few days whenever he catches glimpses of Bucky, and hasn't quite come up with an answer. ] Been busy?

Edited 2016-08-08 15:10 (UTC)

[ Disregarding the tablet for now, he hums a low, quiet affirmative and shrugs with his mouth. ] No rest for the wicked.

[ There's no reason to elaborate. Some of the things he's been up to, Steve probably wouldn't approve of, and there's no use muddying the waters with any of that. Regardless, Steve's right to bypass his commentary on Carter: it's really none of his business. (He just has to keep telling himself that until seeing her touch Rogers stops making his blood pressure spike off the charts. It's not that he dislikes her, either. She's got balls, staring down the former Winter Soldier and standing her ground. It's that she seems inordinately fond of touching Steve, and occasionally he gets that flustered look when she teases him in front of the others and--

Maybe he's been watching Steve a little too closely, these past couple of days.)

No need to muddy the waters with any of that, either. So, he gestures vaguely at the chart of known A.I.M. members on the electronic taskboard behind Steve. A few curly-headed millennials in glasses, an old man who fits pretty perfectly the stereotype of mad scientist, a scrawny balding man who more closely resembles Steve Buscemi than even Bruce Banner and a profile of the elusive 'MODOK', rumored to be a genetically engineered being with a head so big he can barely hold it up. It's a disturbing list, considering these individuals' combined skillsets and the things they get up to with them. ] I hear you've been busy, too. Running the vanguard against these assholes. [ He shakes his head. ] Who'd have ever thought the next generation of Zolas would start a club?

[It's rhetorical, glib. He's trying not to let this be awkward, because he knows Steve probably has no idea how to approach, and Rogers has never been anything if not socially awkward when he's unsure. Bucky's always loved that about him, been charmed and endeared by his stutters and silences--but hell, he's loved just about everything about the man except the fact that he's an idiot with an unexamined death wish.

He twists his mouth and his brow stretches a little higher toward his messy hairline. This close, it's impossible not to think of the last time they were together: that night when he'd woken up from one of those goddamned dreams without quite escaping it, the way he'd gone after Steve and torn up their apartment, the bruises he'd left before he launched himself out the window. It'd been three days later before he'd snapped out of it in some seedy motel hundreds of miles from their little apartment, no less than thirty bottles of vodka littering the carpet, no less than fifty missed calls from Steve in his recents. It was ike something out of a damned movie, and he'd known then their little pipe dream of a life together wasn't going to pan out. But there's sure as hell no need to muddy the waters with that.

Best to keep things light, congenial. ] So, how've you been?

Club's better. Makes a bigger target.

[ What else is there but to keep himself busy, just so that he doesn't have the time to think about Bucky's absence in his life? The man had left a gaping hole in his heart when he'd left -- wounds heal, bruises fade, and for Bucky, Steve would be happy to be the subject of his violence; he knows that's not healthy, that their relationship would be a psychologist's wet dream, but he doesn't care. Theirs is one that had withstood the test of time; Steve had loved him with a ferocity that defied all explanation and understanding, and the years have only made it stronger. Bucky had put up with too damn much for too long, he knows, and he knows, too, that he'd caused Barnes no small amount of grief on far too many occasions. And yet, the man had come through for him every time, without fail.

Now that Bucky needs him, how can he turn away? Sharon is a lovely woman, to be sure -- and perhaps in another lifetime he would have asked her out and they could have been something more; but Bucky stands head and shoulders above everyone else, and it's just not fair to drag someone into this knowing that they would forever be second place, right?

Bucky's absence in the apartment is keenly felt, and Steve consciously tries not to think too hard on the way Bucky's side of the bed is always empty, even if he presses his nose into Bucky's pillow and breathes him in, the fading scent of him stirring an undeniable heartache and longing in the deep of night. He calls Bucky still, sometimes, and every time the call goes unanswered.

He learns to take solace in the fact that the phone isn't dead, which means Bucky's alive somewhere. And here, he can't help but sneak glances at him, keenly aware of Bucky's scrutiny, his presence, and the obvious fact that Sharon Carter's proximity to Steve bothers the hell out of the man. A lesser man would have been pleased by that; but Steve has never needed Bucky to prove his affection to him, not when they've been through too damn much. Although right now Bucky's doing his best to keep things light, warm and superficial, and Steve is quiet for a moment when he asks how he's doing. He can't bring himself to lie, not to him, not when he's missed him every hour of every day; and that question finally brings him out of his mission mindset.

It's just as well that they're now alone, because Steve exhales. ]

I've missed you. [ So much for keeping things light, congenial. ] What about you? Are you -- [ happy? ] doing okay?

[ Yeah, it makes a bigger target-- until the members get together to brainstorm and manufacture an army of fucking nanobots, Bucky's thinking during Steve's pause. It makes him wonder if this provides some insight into Rogers' strategy: is there a central A.I.M. lair out there only Steve and his Secret Avengers know about? A physical mainframe that's the locus of these bots' code? Since Fury called last week Barnes and Natasha have been gathering intel on these mooks, and they've yet to glean any indication of such, despite that they've secretly captured a couple of those mad scientists from the taskboard and employed some fairly messy interrogation tactics. What reason might Steve have for keeping this from the others, if it's the case? From Stark?

He's probably thinking too much into it. Hell, he's been trying to read into those terrified nerds' jargon-laden babbling all weekend. He's stuck in the mode. His stare intensifies slightly, wheels turning, until Steve breathes out and points to the elephant in the room.

The crease in the middle of his forehead deepens and twists, and for a moment he looks incredulous. Can't Steve see he's trying to keep this easy? Like they don't already have enough shit on their minds without a reminder of that gaping chasm between them that's yawning and ready to swallow both of them up? Why not just tiptoe around it for the sake of efficiency? Can't they just once do things the easy way?

Classic Steve. If Rogers has the choice between a detour ramp or jumping off a cliff, he'll always choose the cliff. It makes Bucky's whole body tighten with the urge to reach out and touch him, not that his expression betrays it.

Barnes has missed Steve like he used to miss breathing when the Soviets would waterboard him repeatedly. The first month after they separated, he went to bed every night desperate for the feel of Rogers' hands tracing his body like he's a real human being, and who the hell would've thought he'd ever miss being touched after half a century being poked and vivisected like a guinea pig? But Steve's hands and hot breath have haunted him like ghosts every night, almost as bad as all the skeletons piled in his closet.

So has the thought of that smile, the crooked one that makes Steve look like a friendly golden retriever. Shit.

It doesn't matter. Sometimes you've got to make the hard call to protect the people you love, even if it's from yourself. Barnes wasn't meant for that kind of life, that kind of peace. Neither was Steve, probably. Bucky knows it's better this way, even if he hates the realization he's come to: that he feels more like a himself with a gun in his hand and a mission to finish than he does when he's snuggled in bed with his favorite person in the world. It's ironic, isn't it? ]

I'm getting by just fine. [ More casual than he feels, he moves to lay his hands on the back of the chair where Secretary Ross sat during the briefing. It's a barrier, but he's also drifted nearer to Steve. ] Traveling a lot. Sight-seeing. [He hasn't really been sight-seeing. His Adam's apple bobs and it's his turn to pause.] I got your messages.

Edited 2016-10-30 01:19 (UTC)

[ Bucky's getting by just fine by sightseeing, and that's a whopper of a lie if Steve's ever heard one. See, as shit as Steve might be at lying, Bucky's not too good with it either; it's either that or Steve has a gift for seeing through the lies -- but this is one he doesn't want to tear down, not yet. Not when he has a better idea of why it is that he's lying to him. See, he's getting just a little bit better at not jumping off the cliff that quickly.

Maybe. ]

I know. Your voicemail was never full, I knew you were listening. [ And listen he did; Steve had left so many messages, from frantic ones on that night to calmer ones the night before, and then the messages and calls had spaced out until it had been regular ones, where Steve deigned to call in to check on him, or simply to share a thought or memory, interspersed with the occasional quiet appeal to get in touch with him again, and that he was always welcome back.

Lately, there were just observations, updates, letting Bucky know he was all right; changes in weather patterns prompting Steve's concern anew. Steve's singular devotion to Bucky should be troubling, but it's second nature, a life he shares with Bucky even if the man had walked out of it months ago, leaving him bereft, alone, and little to fall back on save for work.

He's staring down at the dossier of information, thoughts and courses of action churning in the back of his mind. Natasha and Bucky had gained plenty of useful intel, and Steve's piecing them together in his mind, although it's taken a momentary backseat to the fact that Bucky's definitely moved closer, even if he's set a chair between them like a shield of sorts. Steve's studying him, quietly relieved that at least he hadn't gotten thinner, that he's taking care of himself, and he musters that same crooked smile that he knows Bucky's partial to. ]

Any sights worth remembering? I hear there's a giant ball of twine waiting to be witnessed somewhere out there. World's largest.

Frustation Fruition

emma duval ● mtv's scream

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BARRY ALLEN | THE FLASH: SEASON 1 | OTA

kise ryouta | knb | m/m

rin matsuoka ( free! ) m/m

Joker ~ Kuroshitsuji ~ m/m

James T. Kirk | Star Trek (Reboot) | M/M

kageyama tobio | haikyuu!! | m/m

Steve Rogers - MCU - m/m

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Zelos Wilder | Tales of Symphonia | OTA

Jemma Simmons | Marvel's Agents of SHIELD | OTA

Rey | SW:TFA | OTA

theo raeken | teen wolf | m/m

isaac lahey | teen wolf | m/m

Natsumi Hikari - Kamen Rider Decade - OTA

bucky barnes | mcu

you know who you are.

well hello there, beautiful stranger.

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Heimdall | MCU | OTA

Will Belmont | Scream

Venom | Guilty Gear | m/m