bakerstreet | Jingle bells, Batman smells

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Jingle bells, Batman smells—!

Happy Holidays Meme

It's the most wonderful time of the year! Wherever your character is, whatever their feelings on the plethora of holidays found in December, they're bound to be caught up in the festivities. It's up to you what kind of holiday they'll experience! (Feel free to exchange Christmas for whatever holiday your character celebrates.)

Directions
1. Comment with your character, series, preferences, etc.
2. Roll a number between 1-17 (gen) or 1-4 (smut) for a prompt.
3. Reply to others and play out the scenario!

Gen Prompts
1. Tree Shopping — There's nothing like a freshly cut tree at Christmas. Do you go out into the woods to find one yourself, or do you stroll through a lot while it's snowing, looking for the perfect tree?

2. Ice Skating — Do you skate at rink or out on a frozen pond? Have you ever skated before? ~~How many times do you fall?~~

3. Pinterest Fails — You're set on making your own gifts this year, so you try out some adorable Pinterest ideas... And fail miserably. How do you salvage Christmas?

4. Secret Santa — The names have been drawn and now you're tasked with finding the right gift for someone who you may hardly know. Is it easy, or do you have to do some reconnaissance before making your decision?

5. Christmas Market — There are stalls of handcrafts and delicious goodies lining the streets, with crowds of people out walking in the snow and drinking mulled wine.

6. Decorating the Tree — How will the two of you decorate the tree? Do you spend a half hour untangling the twinkle lights, make popcorn strings while listening to carols, argue over who gets to put the star on top?

7. Road Trip — The snacks are packed and you’re ready to go to grandma’s house. But what happens when you lose GPS signal and get lost in the middle of nowhere or the car breaks down?

8. Stuck in the Airport — You’re snowed in and the hotels are full of fellow delayed passengers. Why don’t they make these chairs more comfortable for sleeping in?

9. Avoiding the Family — You’re obligated to go home for the holiday, but there’s only so much you can take of your family. Go for a walk, stop by the bar, whatever it takes for a little peace and quiet - and meet someone along the way.

10. Christmas Party — Are you hosting the event, or just bringing an extra bottle of wine? Is it a work function? How many glasses of spiked eggnog have you had?

11. Baking Shenanigans — How long does it take for the two of you to destroy the kitchen, either with forgetting to put the lid on the blender or simply starting a food fight?

12. Burned the Turkey — Well, the main course is a little blackened. Time for Chinese food, or is it pizza this year?

13. Mistletoe — The little sprig of green strikes again! Are you the one stuck under it, or the lucky finder ready to claim your prize?

14. Last Minute Shopping — Are you out fighting the crowds for the best deals? Or are you behind one of the counters, stuck in the annual retail holiday hell?

16. Turbo Man — You have one last thing on your shopping list, but it's the hottest of the season and everywhere is sold out. There's only one left — but they've spotted it too! Who will walk away victorious?

17. Taking in a Show — Who doesn't love going to the theater during the holiday season? The shows always seem a little more magical this time of year, and that new musical sounds like just what you need to get in the spirit.

18. Write-in Option — Is there something we missed? Is there another scenario you want to play out? Go for it!

Smut Prompts
1. Present Under the Tree — You've wrapped yourself up and are waiting for that special someone.

2. Sneaking Away at a Party — No, you can't wait until you get home or the guests leave, you need them now.

3. Keeping Warm During a Snowstorm — The power's gone out and you have to stay warm somehow...

4. Baking Surprise — How on earth did you get chocolate there? Oh well, can't let it go to waste!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

[ Daisy couldn't have predicted anything that's happened this evening. From running into him at the show to this entire crazy conversation, the night has been full of unexpected, wonderful surprises. For starters, never in her wildest dreams would she have thought she'd be sharing a drink with someone she truly does consider a hero, even if he doesn't understand why she feels that way. And now to be sharing the side of her life, letting him see this part of her that she keeps hidden most of the time, even from her family... It's unbelievable. But then, so much of her life is.

That apology rings of genuine care, someone offering an olive branch of understanding to bridge the gap between them. It's perhaps one of the best things you could have said. No, their situations might not be the same, but being able to understand even part of what she's been through puts him way ahead of the curve in her book.

And then his words of acceptance threaten to overwhelm her in the best way. She's quiet for a moment, and then she lifts her glass holding it up to give a toast just for the two of them. ]

Here's to being messed up, and to finding someone who understands and doesn't mind the broken pieces. [ Because isn't that all any of them could ever hope for? ]

[ A clink of their half-empty glasses against each other, along with a flash of a grin at her over the table. Even though that tightly-knotted vise in his chest hasn't loosened; if anything, it's gone tauter with the realisation that, oh, shit, this could actually maybe become something. If he wanted it to. If he was brave enough. If he tried to keep walking this path instead of just letting it fizzle out into the usual aimless flirtation, noncommittal, with no intention on following through. He was always testing the waters without ever actually stepping in.

But so Bucky goes ahead and pushes the needle, just a little. Glass dangling from his fingers, and his voice lingering in that shit-eating, knowing, joking edge where the joke's also more than a little serious: ]

So. Does this mean I could take you to a show and out for a drink?

[ Har, har. ]

[ Oh, Bucky. He thinks he's so funny. Daisy can see it written all over his face, how he'll play it off as purely a joke if she declines and might still do the same even if she accepts. This dance they're sharing is precarious at best, both of them ready to bolt like a frightened animal at the slightest sign of things going south.

But she doesn't want to run now. She wants to see where this could lead. And if it doesn't lead anywhere, she'd like to still at least be able to count him as a friend. So, in her own joking tone that is also entirely serious, she reminds him of their earlier conversation. ]

Well, you did promise me that there are musicals that are actually good. Of course, I'm not entirely sure I believe you, so I think you need to put your money where your mouth is and prove it. [ There's a playful challenge at the end, complete with raised eyebrows over her drink as she takes another sip. ]

Sounds like you're gonna be a pricy date, Johnson. Have you seen the cost of Broadway tickets these days? I almost had a goddamn heart attack the first time I heard.

[ Inflation, man. But as much as they're both easy at this teasing — it's safer to joke, to bandy about that banter — Bucky still feels that little surge of relief, the validation of her not having shied away and refused. He readjusts his position, getting a little more comfortable on the bar stool. Their drinks still haven't really made a dent in him. He's half-considering if he ought to slam back a few shots to catch up (and maybe it'll do something about that relentless little flutter, that swoop in his stomach).

The first time they'd met and worked together, he'd noticed how attractive she was. Of course he had. Daisy was pretty, but more than that, she was tough and smart and capable in a fight — all qualities that he admired. He hadn't really considered it as an option until unexpectedly finding himself sneaking away with her tonight and getting to know her better, though. That part of his life has been shut down and shuttered for so long — decades, and closer to this side of a century.

But, hey. Maybe it's time to dust himself off. He finishes the last of his drink. Considers the empty glass. ]

Y'know, I usually stick to straight whiskey or tequila. Do you have a favourite poison?

[ Why is his grumbling about the price of Broadway tickets one of the cutest things she's ever heard? As if the man hadn't already endeared himself to her enough with his simple existence, he had to go and be adorable too. It's really not fair.

More importantly, though, he doesn't run away. He's still sitting right there with her, talking about a potential date at some unknown time in the future. A date. When the hell was the last time she dated? Before SHIELD, without a doubt — there had barely been time for her and Lincoln to enjoy anything more than a movie night in their bunk, let alone going out somewhere like normal people. And really, what she'd done before SHIELD could hardly be called dating. Miles had been the closest things, probably, but they'd talked Rising Tide business over greasy burgers and burnt coffee, dreaming of how they were going to change the world. (What a load of bullshit that turned out to be.

So, a date. An actual date. Huh. ]

If it's not beer, definitely whiskey. I only do tequila in margaritas on Ladies' Night. [ Another large sip of her drink; she's probably having too much alcohol too quickly but she doesn't care. She trusts Bucky with her life, and she'd have to be plastered out of her skull to not be able to take care of herself. ]

And, just FYI, there are tons of musicals that have been recorded, like actual Broadway productions, and I enjoy a good movie night in just as much as going out somewhere. It's a lot cheaper and the snacks are usually better.

[ Bucky doesn't outwardly react, but inwardly, there's a small jolt and one startled question running through him: How do I say it needs to be at her place, without it sounding sleazy? His studio apartment still isn't fit for visitors; it's barely fit for habitation. He has a sudden mental image of the pair of them sitting on a bare wooden floor while watching his TV, and the mental image is mortifying.

But he recovers, pulls together a reply, and lets it loose before he can think any better of it. Between him and Steve, he was always the mouthy one, and good at getting in trouble with it. ]

Is this that 'Netflix and chill' thing that Sam's been telling me about?

[ Daisy's actually kind of excited about the idea of having Bucky over for a movie night. Her apartment is too big and too empty, filled with furniture provided by SHIELD and devoid of almost anything resembling personality. There were a few touches of Daisy here and there, but there's more of her sister in the place than the actual owner. (Can anyone really blame her when she's never lived alone like this before and the last place she'd called home before SHIELD was a purple van that smelled funny?) But maybe having someone else around will help make it feel less like a cell now that Kora's out in the field.

The question almost results in a spit-take, though she manages to simply freeze for a moment with a mouthful of beer that she promptly swallows upon recovery. Oh, so that's how it's gonna be, huh? Setting the glass on the table, her fingertips linger on the rim, tracing around the curved edge. ]

I mean, I wouldn't say no to Netflix and chill. [ A vaguely sultry tone laces through the words as she cranks up the flirting to 11. ] But that might be moving a bit fast for you, old-timer.

Edited 2022-02-17 01:32 (UTC)

[ And there's that flicker of surprise which finally skitters across his face when she so neatly turns the tables on him; that flash of oh shit, I probably bit off more than I can chew. Luckily, Bucky doesn't have any beer left to spittake over — but he's still left grasping at loose ends, trying to figure out how to react in a way which isn't backing down from that mutual teasing, but which isn't engaging too far and verging into something he can't take back, either. Pushing at a boundary he isn't actually prepared to cross.

But he's really bad at letting a challenge sit, is what we're saying. So what he opts for in the end is feigned obliviousness: ]

So it isn't just sitting and watching some quality television and taking it easy? [ he asks, so mock-innocently that it's obvious. (He has, in fact, already gotten this particular modern slang rundown. It had been on 'Sam Wilson's List of Things That Bucky Is Not Allowed to Do With My Sister'.) ]

[ It takes everything in her to not completely lose it at that flicker of surprise over Bucky's face. This is the sort of thing she enjoys. For Daisy, making fun of or teasing someone is only fun when it's a give-and-take exchange, and it's downright delightful when she comes out on top. No one's getting hurt, they're just having fun together — it's pretty good for what might possibly be considered a vaguely first-date-shaped encounter. ]

If 'taking it easy' was code for sex back in your day, the '40s must have been a very interesting time. [ She knows that obliviousness is just an act, there's no way Bucky Barnes has been that innocent a single day in his life. She certainly hasn't been. ]

It wasn't, but yeah, it was an interesting time. People weren't as prudish as you all seem to think we were, but— [ Bucky waffles over his next few words, trying to find a way to phrase it which won't sound like defeat or throwing in the towel. Playing for time, he toys around with the paper drink coaster his beer had been sitting on, spinning it in the light puddle on the table. ]

Still. Might be a bit fast. No matter how many multi-coloured patriotic cocktails you ply me with to take advantage of me.

[ Teasing, as ever. ]

[ Daisy's quiet while she watches him seemingly try to come up with what to say. But means there's more, and that more is probably something important. Something big. And considering all the other big things that have come up tonight over what was just supposed to be a simple drink between friends...

Well, she's not surprised by what he finally says. There's no teasing when she answers because she needs him to understand that she's serious. This is, in fact, important. ]

I'm good with slow. I didn't use to be, I really didn't use to be... [ She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a heavy sigh full of... too much. Regret, exhaustion. Sadness, loneliness. A deep well of emotions tries to come rushing out in a single breath. ] But people change. I'd rather take things slow than risk anyone getting hurt again.

[ Whether she means him or herself is anyone's guess. ]

[ Bucky exhales a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. ]

Yeah, me too. I'm finding my way back there, but I'm not really the guy I used to be. I used to bug Steve about it all the time: asking him about stuff, making sure I was remembering things right. My favourite colour, favourite snacks.

[ One of the things she said lingers, though, sticking in his craw, and he finds himself wondering about it — even if he's aware, in a distant sort of way, that he probably shouldn't ask. That this sounds like the sort of question which will pry open an old wound. That this isn't the sort of thing you should dig into on a first-date-ish evening, ripping right into the woman's old hurts. But he's curious, and they've already ripped open so much already, so he goes ahead and asks it anyway. They've already established a frank and open style of conversation... but along with the ripcord if either of them needs to demur, opt out, put off the topic for another day. ]

'Again'?

[ They've both been through hell and become very different people from who they used to be. For a moment, Daisy tries to imagine her younger self meeting a younger Bucky when the both of them weren't as burdened by all the horrible things the world decided to throw at them. Would they have had anything in common? Would they have been able to survive all those horrible things?

Maybe it's better that they met now when they bear the scars of the world on their skin and their hearts.

Daisy folds her arms on the table, leaning in and staring down at the sticky surface rather than looking at Bucky. This will be hard enough to say without having to watch him while she says it. And yes, she knows she could sidestep the topic, put it off to pick up again some other time, but... This is important too. ]

His name was Lincoln Campbell. He was the first Inhuman I became close with, the one who taught me that I wasn't a thing. He joined SHIELD to be with me even though his heart wasn't in it. [ Her cold fingertips twist around the sleeves of her leather jacket, gripping the material. ]

There was, uhm, another Inhuman called Hive. He was the first Inhuman. It's a long complicated story but Hive... He infected other Inhumans and put them under what we called his sway. He literally changed their brain chemistry so it felt good to do what he wanted and be connected to him. It felt good to be brainwashed and controlled. [ She can't help the slight waver in her voice as she describes the sway, nor the shudder that moves through her shoulders. ] Hive thought that if everyone became Inhuman and part of him, the world would be a better place. We tried to stop him, but I— He got me. I did some really bad things, hurt a lot of people.

[ Some part of her is waiting for him to get up and leave at any second and it hurts but she has to keep going. ] When I was finally pulled out, I felt so much guilt. I thought it was my destiny to die stopping Hive. I thought it was what I had to do to make things right. But Lincoln stopped me and went in my place. He died for me.

[ Well, shit.

There's that uncomfortable lurch in his chest again: that sense of painfully familiarity, and the part of him that understands far, far too well what she's describing. And yet Daisy's experience is actually, in some ways, even worse: none of James' loved ones had actually died for him, thank god.

He would never wish this sort of experience on anyone, and had never expected to meet someone who'd been through something similar as him. But he can appreciate that strange sympathetic echo nonetheless. The fact that they both know what it's like to be controlled. To have hurt others. To have that blood on your hands which you can't wash out. For every part of him which shied away from the idea of dating a civilian because there was no possible way he could burden them with his bullshit, he was starting to get the feeling that Daisy would, and did, relate.

There's the instinctive urge to say something reassuring. Some platitude. You know it wasn't your fault, right? It's the sort of thing Steve would say, and had said to him again and again. But the words withered on his tongue. He still couldn't believe it for himself, so it felt disingenuous to mouth it at her. So in the end, he just settles for a simple: ]

Fuck. I'm sorry.

[ Tension drains out of Daisy at those three simple words that convey so much with so little. He doesn't need to say those platitudes for her to know he'd considered them the same way she would have, just like he doesn't need to explain for her to understand why he'd chosen not to say them.

She glances up at him, not quite crying but her eyes still red and a little damp. It's been a heavy night so far, full of confessions and sharing of secrets, but she's actually kind of proud of herself for holding it together through everything. Her hands release their white-knuckled grip on her jacket and don't even shake when she wraps them around her glass again. ]

Thanks... It's been seven years and I still send part of my paycheck to his sister every month. She went to medical school like he did; she finished her residency last year. [ And because things have gotten deep and dark, she pulls out a bit of humor and a ghost of a smile. ] So if you have any delusions of my being rich from a spy's salary, might want to give those up right now.

Edited 2022-02-20 04:08 (UTC)

I figured it's not glamorous. You should listen to Sam gripe sometime. Even Captain America doesn't get a nice paycheck.

[ Bucky isn't always the most emotive these days, although he's warming up — for almost eight long decades, he hadn't used his facial muscles for much beyond glowering or empty staring — and so he's just watching her, his expression thoughtful. Uncertain what to do. Does he reach out and pat her on the shoulder? Try to wrap his hands around hers? Those little physical gestures of comfort aren't an instinct that comes easily to him anymore, so he flounders and just keeps his hands to himself. Words are easier. ]

Hey. So. If you ever wanna talk about it, what happened with Hive— I'm probably one of the only people who can relate to having been brainwashed. [ There's a small, considering beat, then, ] Can I see your phone for a sec?

[ Unless your last name is Stark, no one who saves the world gets a good paycheck. They don't do it for fame and fortune, they do it because someone has to. The fact that they're usually the most qualified for the job just makes it a hell of a lot harder to even consider retiring.

Physical gestures of comfort are something Daisy's good at. Despite growing up without a lot of them herself, she's a hugger, a shoulder patter, a hand holder. Connection, both physical and emotional, is one of the most important things to her when it comes to any sort of relationship. But that doesn't mean she expects it from Bucky. He gets a pass for everything until she learns where his boundaries are.

Giving him a playfully suspicious look, she pulls her SHIELD-issue smartphone out of her pocket, unlocks it, and holds it out to him without hesitation. ]

[ It's a relatively smooth move, all things told. Maybe he saw it on TV. Although it's marred a little by the fact that he can't get his gloved fingers to register on the touchscreen at first, so he shakes his head, peels off his right glove, and then navigates the interface one-handed. It's not like the left one would help him either; no wonder he used a non-smartphone for so long.

But he manages it in the end and then slides the phone back to her across the table, face-up, where she can see he's added a new contact and a phone number: Bucky Barnes. ]

There you go.

[ Watching him remove his glove to be able to type on the screen sparks a thought in Daisy's mind, though she waits for him to slide her phone back over. She trusts him not to be doing anything shady, but the man does have a sense of humor, so he could surprise her.

Picking up her phone, she smiles at the display. There's a bit of teasing in her voice but the reaction is genuine. ] Wow, Barnes. I feel so honored.

[ Tapping open a message, she selects a single emoji that she sends off to him before tucking her phone back into a jacket pocket. When he checks his phone, he'll find a daisy waiting in his inbox. And then, still smiling and not at all teasing, she broaches the subject she'd thought of. ]

You know, if you ever wanted a break from the gloves, SHIELD has incredible prosthetics beyond anything on the market. Full functionality, impossible to tell the difference from the real thing. Not that you'd have to get rid of this one, but just something to consider. I'm sure the gloves make it hard to blend in when it's not freezing outside.

[ She knows it is, in fact. She remembers Coulson complaining before he'd gotten his fancy upgrade. And it's not at all that she's bothered by it, which she hopes Bucky understands. ]

Really?

[ There's a complicated stew of emotions at that offer. Caught off-guard, Bucky wouldn't have been able to predict how he'd feel about it until it bowls into him just now in a roiling ambiguous mess. Self-consciousness at the fact that she noticed his struggle so easily? Guilt, because he does appreciate the arm, the effort that Shuri put into designing it, the ceremonial gift that T'challa had made of it. It's so much better than the Soviet arm: lighter, sleeker, more advanced and powerful, elegant where the HYDRA arm was crude. The Rolls-Royce of combat prosthetics.

But it is still cold metal, and it still stands out, and so he still wears the gloves.

And so, that last emotion: Hope. He finds himself mulling over the offer seriously. Picturing it, as he muses aloud: ] Well. I could do with something like that for everyday use. Swap back to this one for missions...

You think SHIELD would give away something like that for free? I don't have health insurance. [ The corner of his mouth twitches; a half-smile. ]

[ There are probably other ways she could have presented the option. Started by talking about Coulson's arm, Yo-Yo's hands, Sousa's leg. She could have gone over a whole slew of SHIELD's innovations and then reminded him that they were here to help him however he needed. But that would have left room for him to assume that didn't include a new arm that wouldn't immediately draw attention to his identity wherever he went. And sure, maybe he was really attached to the vibranium prosthetic and wouldn't even consider another option — but she'd noticed the gloves.

Daisy Johnson notices just about everything, especially when she sees her own insecurities reflected back at her. ]

Well, we already covered how superhero benefits leave something to be desired. [ She smiles at him, reassuring and hopefully comforting. ] I'll let the Director know we'll be providing you a prosthetic to your specifications, no strings attached. He won't argue, Mack's a good guy. He's basically the big brother I never had. And I'll ask FitzSimmons to pencil us in when they visit next month — there are others who could handle it at HQ, but FitzSimmons will make less of a big deal about it.

Edited 2022-02-20 17:37 (UTC)

You're a useful woman to know, Daisy Johnson.

[ It still felt strange, accepting so much charity and goodwill from the organisation. Daisy was adamant that it didn't matter, but he still hadn't socialised much with the other agents when he'd worked with them last; not knowing if the Winter Soldier had thrown someone's best friend or roommate or lover into a plane turbine. Sometimes he wondered how different things might've been if SHIELD were still bankrolling the Avengers. If the superheroes hadn't all gone independent.

But that would've meant a SHIELD that hadn't been compromised by HYDRA, and so there were too many threads and what-ifs to pull on. Bucky was just feeling lucky and grateful enough that they were still willing to work with him and Sam.

(Although it could be they just didn't have that many alternatives, with the Avengers now essentially defunct.) ]

How long have you been with SHIELD? You seem pretty embedded.

[ She preens just a little at his comment, feeling accomplished for both having the idea and convincing him to accept it without too much protest. If he'd resisted the idea, she would have let it go for the night, but she absolutely would have brought it up again in the future. One thing he'll learn before too long is how ridiculously stubborn she can be. ]

There's good reason for that. Ten years. I was brought on as a consultant in 2013 and became an agent right before HYDRA showed its ugly face. I hadn't even had my badge a week before I had to turn it in. I was part of the team that helped the new director rebuild, I was even director myself for a hot second, and I helped vote Mack into the role five years ago. We were partners before that and I can't think of anyone better for the job.

[ The man had even embraced the Nick Fury look of a long intimidating leather coat. The number of times she's given him shit about how it billows in the wind on the helicarrier... ]

[ He arches an eyebrow at that, bemused. There's a lot that he'd missed when he was on the run, underground, in Wakanda, dusted out of existence— SHIELD had combusted at the same time that his own life veered off the rails and into unknown territory for the first time in decades. ]

Director? So I'm talking to a former Madam Director Johnson?

[ Bucky, ya little shit. ]

[ She laughs at that, a loud burst of sound and energy that is accompanied by her rubbing a hand over her eyes. Did he seriously just say that? Her shoulders shake with the laughter and it takes her a moment to pull herself together again. ]

It was for like five days, so don't be that impressed. Someone had to take over while Coulson was kidnapped and I stepped down the first chance I got. That's when we voted Mack in; I wasn't ready for leadership like that.

[ Also, Madam Director? Ick, sounds way too close to Madam Hydra for her liking. She'll never forget those days trapped in the Framework in Aida's crazy messed up version of the world. ]

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