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

[ That elephant is one Daisy just doesn't understand — and this isn't the first time she's thought about it over the last few months. The idea of leaving someone like Bucky after fighting so hard to save him, knowing he'd be all alone in a time not his own... She just can't fathom making a decision like that. Not that Captain Rogers hadn't earned a life of his choosing, but why not take Bucky with him? They both deserved a chance at a different life.

She doesn't say any of that, though. There's no way she'd risk opening old wounds like that. Better to focus on the good things instead. ]

Are you close with them? I've never met Sam but I've heard good things, and he seems to have stepped into the role pretty well.

[ Really well, all things considered. He'd had more than his fair share of the odds being stacked against him, but as far as she can tell, he's doing just fine. ]

[ There's an affectionate warmth which creeps into his voice whenever he talks about Sam, although he excises it around the man himself in favour of playfully ribbing him. It's not the same as whenever Steve comes up — it probably never will be, some things are untouchable and incomparable — but it's still there, and still growing. Like mentioning an annoying brother who he'd still do anything for. ]

Yeah. He and his sister have pretty much taken me in. I'm invited to all the family cookouts. Think they saw a stray and figured they could do something about it.

[ And because the role has been on his mind, the whole legend and spectacle of Captain America looming large over this whole evening, he adds thoughtfully, ]

I don't think there's anyone else who could step into the role as well as he did.

Although don't ever tell him I said that.

[ That warmth in Bucky's voice is beyond endearing, both toward the man sitting across from her and the man they're discussing. She knows that terrible feeling of being alone, of feeling like you've lost absolutely everything and struggling to find a way to move forward and survive another day. To hear that Sam and his family had given Bucky an anchor of stability only raises her estimation of the newly titled Captain American further. ]

I wouldn't dream of it. [ She doesn't hold back her smile, and her next words are as warm as his had been. ] You should meet Coulson sometime. He has a habit of taking in strays too.

[ Even feral ones like herself. Nothing in her life would be the same if she hadn't met Coulson and she would have been so much worse for it. ]

I'd love to. [ It would be nice to meet the hero who had, inadvertently, brought Steve's team together that first time — and who apparently meant so much to Daisy. Scrutinising her over the table, though, Bucky asks hesitantly: ]

His status— is it a secret or anything? Like some kind of classified information and he's living off-grid? Or was it just keeping him out of the public eye as director?

[ Judging how his past century's gone, no wonder Bucky's thoughts tend to gravitate to the most secretive and paranoid options first. ]

It's not a secret but it's not... Everyone in SHIELD knows, and he travels the world without a lot of cloak and dagger nonsense, but it's complicated. I know I've said that a few times tonight but it really is.

[ There's no hiding the way Daisy fidgets with her glass or shifts her weight, everything about her body language and expression signaling that she's uncomfortable. Upset. It's been five years and it still hurts to talk about this, despite everything that's followed. ]

Coulson... died, again, five years ago. [ Her voice wavers and cracks a bit on those words but she keeps going, barreling on through the pain as she does with everything in life. ] Right before Thanos. The thing that was keeping him alive was burned out of his system and his body degenerated too much to...

He died. And I left the planet to try and put my family back together in the only way I could. I avoided facing my grief because it was too much. He was the most important person in the world to me and I didn't know how to go on without him.

[ Blinking back the tears that sting at her eyes, she takes a shaky breath, refusing to let them fall. ] The Coulson out there traveling the world recruiting for SHIELD is an advanced Life Model Decoy with Chronicom technology. He has Coulson's memories up to a year before he died. He is Coulson in every way that matters.

[ There's a strength and fierceness in those last words that say with undeniable clarity that she will stand her ground on this matter just as she has for years. ]

[ He can't miss the clear sight of that brimming emotion, the gleam of tears welling up in Daisy's eyes but not spilling over. A palm against her face or cupped against her cheek is far too intimate for two people who are still so new to each other, but Bucky finally can't bite it back entirely. So he reaches out with his ungloved right hand — broad fingers, warm palm — and lays it over hers, squeezing her fingers in a gesture of reassurance and support. His heart twinges.

He doesn't have any comparative experiences here, but he wonders how he would've felt. If a version of Steve had been left behind, somehow. Some of the others have a bit more experience with alternate versions of people from other timelines. ]

If it looks like a duck and walks like a duck and quacks like a duck...

[ The words themselves might seem too light on the surface, but his voice is actually serious. ]

I mean it. It's been a question about like, clones and robots in science fiction for ages, but you've actually seen it first-hand. If he has his memories and personality and behaves like him, and if you say the differences are indistinguishable, then they're indistinguishable and for all intents and purposes, it's the same.

[ He believes her. ]

[ He surprises her. Reaching out like that, setting his hand on hers — she doesn't expect it. His hand is larger than hers and so warm against her chilled skin. But more than the gesture itself, she doesn't expect his safe it makes her feel, and not just in an "I have a supersoldier at my side who I trust with my life" kind of way. It's a little terrifying just how safe she feels with him.

Turning her hand under his, she curls her fingers around his and gives them a gentle squeeze in return, a grateful smile tugging at her lips. ]

He's really gonna like you. [ There's no teasing in the words or anything else that might take away from how genuine they are. But her smile fades after a moment and she looks down at the tabletop and their hands. ] The first few days were the worst. I was so scared he would hate me.

[ There's an unexpected frisson of nervous energy rippling up his arm and his spine at the touch, which is about when Bucky realises how long it's been since he just held someone's hand. Not a companionable clap to the shoulder, not grasping for an armto haul someone out of the muck and mire, not the impersonal touch of a doctor after a mission, not something out of bare pragmatic necessity. Just touch for the sake of it.

(He's missed it.)

He's trying not to stare too openly at their interlinked hands, though, so he yanks his attention back into line to follow Daisy's story. She's been through so much, but a small selfish part of him is glad that he gets to listen for once. So it's not just someone else rubbernecking all the details everyone else already knows about the life of James Buchanan Barnes, with all their preconceived notions and assumptions and their minds already made up, for better or worse.

He gets to learn something new; ditch that squirming sensation of being the person in the room with the most unusual story. ]

Why? Were you worried he wouldn't feel the same way about you as he did before, or...?

No, it wasn't that. I doubt a lot of things in life, especially when it comes to things like that, [ another bombshell admission she hadn't expected to share tonight ] but never with Coulson. He's always cared and put me first... He's the closest thing I've ever had to a father.

[ Her hand is still cold despite Bucky's warmth trying to seep into it, her emotional distress still convincing her body that something is Wrong. She's used to it by now — but she'll also never be used to it, really. Hopefully, he doesn't mind, because she likes being able to hold his hand like this. It's nice in a way she hasn't had for a very long time. ]

He didn't want to come back. [ Her voice cracks again and her grip tightens ever so slightly around his hand, clinging just a little more to the lifeline that he now represents. ] I knew he didn't, his body was cremated so that no one could—

[ She shuts her eyes for a moment, frowning, then shakes her head. ] When we went back in time to stop the Chronicoms, when FitzSimmons were preparing for that mission, they realized we'd need someone with us who knew SHIELD history inside and out or we'd risk messing everything up on our own. No one knows SHIELD better than Coulson... so they brought him back.

[ A tear tries to escape from the corner of her eye but Daisy reaches up with her free hand to brush it away. ] He wasn't awake when we first saw him. Simmons wanted us to make that call. Mack was saying we had to talk about it, but I... Just minutes before, May had been dying in my arms, and then he was just standing there. So I pressed the button. I didn't think about anything else, just getting him back.

[ Bucky finds his thoughts wandering and digging through all his experience, trying to find something familiar to hook onto. He knows what it's like to wake up disoriented, thawed out and reactivated for a purpose, a useful tool taken off the shelf. But that comparison didn't work at all. The agents cared about Coulson; he evidently wasn't just an advanced robot to Daisy.

Was it selfish, to bring someone back when they didn't want to come back? It would've been selfish to keep Steve for his own reasons. Letting his friend go was the right call.

But absolutely none of it maps neatly onto Daisy's experiences, so he knows those examples don't work. He can't say he wouldn't have done the same. If he'd had the ability, would he have pressed a similar button? —probably. Bucky wasn't great at looking before he leapt.

He curls his fingers more closely around hers, interweaving, while he leans forward to keep listening and absorbing this tale. His other vibranium arm is propped against the edge of the table, tucked away as he leans against it. Maybe that's part of why he's able to touch her like this.

Instead of offering any platitudes, he just asks a question. ]

Does he seem okay with it now? Being back.

[ With anyone else in the world, Daisy might have made a different decision. FitzSimmons, Mack, even May — she might have let them go, insisting their wishes be honored, no matter the cost. But Coulson was the exception to absolutely every rule for her. Time and again, she'd risked everything to save him with no thought to the consequences. He's her dad, the one person who has always had her back, and she dreads the day when she might lose him again. ]

Yeah, he does. [ She nods, smiling faintly, and breathes a little easier, tension loosening from her shoulders. ]

After we finished the mission, he gave himself a year to decide. He traveled the world, did things he never got the chance to before... And then Mack gave him the button. It's his choice and he's free to make it any time. Maybe it'll be long after I'm dead or maybe it'll be tomorrow — either way, he's promised he'll say goodbye first.

[ So she while she still lives with that constant fear of losing him again, at least she has the assurance that she'll know in advance if he makes that choice. It isn't perfect but it's good enough. ]

That's good. And I mean, people change their minds, y'know? It sounds like he's changed his mind. This LMD thing is different from like, a medical do-not-resuscitate. Conditions always change.

[ Before he can think of what else to add, the waitress swings by to check on them again — and she lingers.

"Everything okay, love?" the woman asks, pointedly eyeing Daisy in particular, before levelling a dubious look at the man sitting across from the teary woman. Had the quiet handsome regular brought a girl to his favourite bar for the first time ever and then made her cry?

Bucky looks confused for a second, before realisation dawns in a mortified expression across his face. If he could crawl into his jacket right about now, he would. ]

[ Daisy looks at the waitress in her own haze of confusion for a moment but then smiles warmly, genuinely grateful to the other woman for checking on her. Not that she can't take care of herself, of course, but not every woman has superpowers and it really is important that they help each other in this world that can be so dangerous. ]

Everything's great. [ She glances at Bucky, deciding not to tease him just yet since he looks ready to sink into the floor. ] Turns out this guy's a really good listener. But thank you for asking. Could you bring him another whiskey? I think he needs it right about now.

[ Okay, so she couldn't resist a tiny bit of teasing. Another warm yet mischievous smile seems to satisfy the concerned waitress, and when they're left alone again, Daisy gives Bucky's hand another squeeze. ]

You really are a good listener. [ Genuine, and then back to teasing. ] But maybe we should talk about you now.

[ She squeezes his hand one more time and Bucky savours the touch: his thumb jotting against her lifeline, a touch trailing down her wrist before he finally leans back into his own half of the table. He wraps his hands around the fresh new glass of whiskey as the waitress deposits it in front of him, then gives her (and Daisy) a grateful nod as she whisks off again. His reputation at this bar is saved from plummeting into the pit for one more evening, at least. ]

Ugh. Do we have to? There's not much to say.

[ Patently, ridiculously false, but he's self-aware enough that she can see the half-joke in his affected grimace. ]

[ When his hand leaves hers, it feels like she's lost a part of herself. How ridiculous is that? They're only just getting to know each other, this isn't even really a date (is it?), and here she is wishing she could keep holding his hand for hours. She hasn't even contemplated how nice it would be to kiss him (the answer is very), she just wants that small but oh-so-meaningful physical connection.

Don't be clingy, Johnson. ]

Oh, come on. I know what the reports say but you're so much more than that. Tell me anything, so long as it's true. You mentioned your favorite color earlier. Start there.

[ The corners of his eyes crinkle in another smile. Compared to all the serious and heavy topics they've been covering from Daisy, it feels like she's letting him off easy. But maybe that's okay. Ease into it slowly. ]

Green. Like grass in summer. Like how Prospect Park and the trees wake up each year. How about you?

[ Easing him into it just feels like the best way to go. Sure, there's an ocean worth of heavy stuff they could dive into, but why rush? She'd rather not push him and make things even harder when he's already had a terribly hard life. ]

Purple. I added purple highlights to my Quake suit a few years ago and even dyed my hair to match a few times. Not all of it, just little pieces, but yeah. I like purple.

[ She props her elbows on the table, leaning forward with interest, a smile on her lips. ] What's something weird that you like? Something that people wouldn't guess just by looking at you.

[ Bucky makes a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat, pondering that question. It's hard to come up with something which just feels like a harmless interesting fact about himself— the circumstances of his life aside, he doesn't think he's all that interesting. But he's also well-familiar with how his image in the history books shines a little too brightly, so he selects one thing which he thinks might come as a surprise: ]

I'm a huge Tolkien nerd. I read The Hobbit back when it first came out. After I left HYDRA and as soon as I found out there were more, I read the whole trilogy — I can't think of Lord of the Rings now without remembering a shitty bedroom on the outskirts of Bucharest. I rewatch the extended editions when I can't sleep, sometimes. I'm excited about the new show.

Your turn.

[ Daisy listens to his answer, not entirely sure what she was expecting. Even as he talks about his lifelong love for this thing, she's not sure where it's going until the end. She's seen the movies (of course, she has, who hasn't seen those movies) and knows there's a lot of hype for the books, but it's more the sentiment behind it all that she relates to. She knows what it is to feel passionate about something and to look forward to having more of it in your life.

For half a second, she contemplates telling him about the cosplay incident outside Stark Tower — but that half-second quickly sails right out the window because they are not at that stage yet. She has bared her soul to him more times than she cares to count tonight but she's not quite ready to face the potential humiliation and demand for photographs that story might prompt. Maybe if they make it to a second date he'll be you're lucky enough to get that story out of her, but it is not first date material. Nope. Absolutely not. ]

Well, apparently my favorite kind of men are complete dorks. [ What was that about baring her soul? ] This is something I never would have known about myself if it weren't for this evening, so thank you for that. [ This is definitely the alcohol talking. ] I thought maybe Colson was just a fluke. I mean, he's Colson, he's the exception to every rule, but now here we are and.... Here we are.

[ Tipping back her glass, she finally finishes off her drink and sets the glass to the side. ]

Dorks. Wow. [ Yeah, she's surprised by it, and she knows a therapist would have an absolute field day with that kind of information. ]

But for an actual answer: My most prized possession is a hula girl figure, one of the ones that sit on car dashboards and dance. I have one that's been with me for over a decade now. I thought it was just some weird thing that I liked, you know, one of those things you can't really explain. But then I found out my dad had one on his desk at work before everything in our lives went to shit, so now it means all the more to me. I even took her to space with me.

[ My favourite kind of men, she says, and those five simple words spark such a wellspring of warmth in his chest: buoyant, practically bubbling over. It's quickly followed up by a fond, amused smile as Daisy's words turn even looser, a little scattered. She is extremely cute when she's drunk. Is that weird to say? He probably shouldn't say it.

He does, however, light up in recognition as she describes the hula figurine. ]

Hey, I know those things! They got really popular during the war. Man. I can't believe they're still around.

So that was your... human dad, right? It's weird, the things we can unconsciously remember even when we don't know we're remembering it.

[ A nod is the only response Daisy can make to that particular comment. There are so many other things, her dad is a complicated subject. Far more complicated than Bucky could ever guess and more complicated than she has the emotional strength to get into right now. She's talked about so many things this evening that have worn her down while at the same time lightening her spirit, but this is one that's just too heavy.

It's a fleeting thought in her mind that maybe one day Bucky might go with her to see her father. That he might stand at her side while she goes in, dropping off cookies for the friendly veterinary office she visits every few years, saying hello to the doctor there who will never remember his little girl all grown up. The daughter he'd spent years searching for, losing his mind in the process. The woman he'd killed his beloved wife to protect.

But she pushes that thought out of her mind, reminding herself it is a place so far off from where they are right now that it really isn't fair to even contemplate. So instead, she glances around the room, noting a particular sign, then gestures over her shoulder at it to Bucky. ]

I'm gonna hit the bathroom while you think of the next question.

[ She slides off the stool and wobbles precariously for a moment as she sets her weight on her feet. It's only for a moment though, the world tilting just slightly from the alcohol in her system, and then she steadies herself and flashes him a smile. ]

I'm good. Beer has nothing on those alien puffies.

[ Which might possibly be the most ridiculous thing she said all night, or at least in the last twenty minutes. But she wanders off, dodging their waitress and other patrons stuffed into booths and huddled around little tables like their own. She's proud to say she only clips one chair with her hip and it's unoccupied, so she manages to make it to the bathroom and back a few minutes later without causing any damage. Success. ]

[ Bucky watches her go: alternatingly endeared by her wobbliness, alarmed at the prospect of her running into a table, but also enjoying the view. It's another small reminder that his metabolism is different from hers, so he takes another deep swig of the whiskey to try to catch up. It's starting to get there. Enough that he's starting to feel the faintest beginning edge of tipsiness, at least. He never got the full physiological rundown when he was with HYDRA, but the estimate he'd heard from Steve was that their metabolisms were four times as fast. And he's had more than four drinks by now, hasn't he?

While she's away and he's mulling over a possible question, he remembers, as if out of nowhere, an article about 36 questions to fall in love. Sets of probing back-and-forth questions with increasing intimacy. In a way, it's what they've already been doing tonight, as terrifying as it is, with each too-heavy topic they've stumbled into. Bucky hates intimacy and emotional vulnerability, is skittish about it, always tries to laugh and joke off anything that matters, and yet somehow they're here anyway.

Scrolling through the list on his phone, he remembers that most of the questions are live-wire landmines, too dangerous to step on. But by the time Daisy returns, he's at least settled on one of the more innocuous ones. When she teeters back into her chair, he half-raises one hand to catch her in case she falls, but then flashes her a smile. ]

Alright. I got one. What would constitute a “perfect” day for you?

[ She spots that half-move to catch her if she needed it, her heart somehow warming even further for the man before her. No insistence that she needs help, no accusation that she's reached her limit, no commentary whatsoever. He could have done so many things wrong but instead, he does them right. ]

A perfect day? [ Leaning forward, she rests an elbow on the table and props her chin in her hand. There's a hmm as she contemplates, looking up at the ceiling. ] Spending time with the people I care about. It probably sounds like a cop-out answer, but I spent so much of my life alone that being with those people makes me happy. Playing videogames with Mack, watching FitzSimmons buzz about the lab. Training with May, watching Coulson cook dinner in the kitchen. I like going places and trying things, but those quiet days are the really perfect ones.

[ Those are the days she cherishes most because there always seem to be too few of them. Their lives are full of missions and saving the world and almost dying, so rather than being boring, those slow days are nothing short of precious. ]

[ Daisy's painting a nice picture. He can imagine it so clearly: these little domestic moments, the quiet times between the harried missions and the adrenaline and the panic. It's the sort of thing he likes, too, except he can't really remember having too much of it recently. The seaside cookout with the Wilsons, that was the closest thing. His smile turns a little wistful, listening to her.

The war had been so much hurry-up-and-wait, and his years on the run were perpetually on edge. And any time he's had to sit down and breathe in Wakanda or New York has been too solitary, too quiet. ]

That sounds nice. Those are my kind of days, too. I'm glad you've got so many people to do that with.

And I used to be kind of an adrenaline junkie, I guess? The Cyclone — y'know, the coaster down at Coney Island — first opened when I was ten, and I was hooked when I finally got to go there with my sisters. I rode it like fifteen times in a row. But after you've gotten into missions and shit, I don't think you really crave that excitement the same way.

[ Those are my kind of days. How do they have so much in common? How are they fitting together so well? She can almost feel their jagged edges smoothing out just a little more with each new thing they share, those broken pieces a little less dangerous as they get closer. There's still so much to cover and the risk is high, but with every passing minute, she becomes more convinced the reward might just be worth it. ]

You really don't. I mean, I know some agents who are still thrill-seekers despite years out in the field, but I also think there's something certifiably wrong with them, so. [ She smirks to show she's joking, then shrugs. ] Normal life seems like adventure enough for people like us.

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