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

[ 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.

Yeah. Or at least, you get more grateful for it. More able to appreciate those quiet days. A backyard barbeque, napping in the park, or a day at the beach. Steve would probably have some kind of speech about how we go through those battles and those fights so that we, and others, can have those peaceful days.

[ So much of Bucky kept circling back to Steve in these conversations like his ghost was ever-present, the conscience sitting on his shoulder. What the man thought, did, said, believed.

Once upon a time, Bucky had been the one that people looked at, the one Steve idolised, and the one to stand front-and-center protecting his best friend — and then the tables had slowly turned, starting somewhere around the time a star-spangled Captain America hauled him out of that POW camp. And then it had only deepened when he'd hauled the Winter Soldier in from the cold, and he'd become Bucky's lodestone and anchor, the foundation to help rebuild his memories and his sense of self. His due north. (No wonder he'd spun out, after Thanos.)

And in the meantime, he can't help those unthinking little references. They keep slipping out when he's not watching himself, not guarding his mentions of the man that the public wants to know everything about, and whose last secret he's still protecting. As far as most civilians know, the hero just vanished one day.

There's a beat, a moment's hesitation born from those thoughts getting stirred up, but Bucky's quick to move onto his next question. ]

Favourite dessert?

[ Daisy doesn't think twice about all the mentions of Steve in various contexts. Steve meant as much to Bucky as Coulson, Simmons, and May meant to Daisy. Of course, the man would feature heavily in every aspect of Bucky's life. She's glad he's able to talk about Steve at all, given the grief he must carry with him. No matter the specifics of losing someone, it never stops hurting, you just learn to carry the pain in a different way.

Maybe one day they'll talk about that grief. That pain they both live in with every breath they take. But there's been enough of that today. Dessert is a much better topic for this warm feeling from just a little too much alcohol. ]

Pie, definitely pie. Any kind of pie, but always with coffee. [ She leans back again with a wistful smile. ] I used to spend hours in dingy diners, coding programs or hacking sites if the place had wifi, spending what little money I had on greasy burgers, the pie of the day, and endless refills of coffee.

[ Some part of her misses those days. Everything seemed a little simpler back then. ]

Good ole all-American pie. [ It's a good choice. He'd spent more than his fair share of hours in cheap dingy diners, too, particularly when he was on the run; there was something oddly appealing about those liminal spaces. ] Mine might be New York cheesecake. The denser, the better. I also got really into basbousa in Wakanda — it's a semolina yoghurt cake, I think.

[ Another sip of his drink. ]

Does that mean if I'm awake in the middle of the night and feeling like a diner run, you might be down?

[ Once again, the alcohol is absolutely entirely to blame for the ridiculously large grin at his question. It's not at all because she loves the idea of a late-night diner run with him. Nope. ]

Oh, I'd definitely be down. I don't sleep much, so text me anytime.

[ She contemplates having another cold fry instead of asking the thing that's been percolating at the back of her thoughts all evening, but with her inhibitions lowered, she finally just goes for it, leaning in and lowering her voice slightly. ]

I have a weird thing to ask and you can absolutely say no because it is weird and I'll totally understand. Can I hold your hand? [ A brief pause, then she points to his left side, scrambling to clarify as her mind catches up with her mouth and she starts worrying about the ramifications of this particular request. ] That one. Only for a bit, and you don't have to take the glove off. I've just never felt vibranium before and I'm really curious.

[ She can almost literally watch Bucky considering that question, rolling it over in his mind and contemplating it.

And he really wouldn't do this for just anyone. Call it their morbid curiosity, or staring agog at him as some kind of monster or museum curio, or even their kink — there's so many reasons that he's skittish about that arm. (He knows, too, exactly how many people he strangled to death with the HYDRA arm. How much weight and pressure is necessary to crush a human windpipe. He remembers it all; knows exactly what such a metal prosthetic can do.)

But it's Daisy asking, and there's nothing but an endearing, open, innocent curiosity in her face and voice, and so after another considering pause and then a glance around the room, making sure they're mostly alone by their table, then he actually goes for the glove. Peels the fabric off the vibranium hand, and then reaches it out to her. Sleek black metal, neatly-interlocking plates that twist and flex with his movement, gold accents at the joints, and none of the laboured mechanical whine that accompanied the movements and servos of the HYDRA arm. It really is a nicely-designed piece of tech, and comfortable enough that he doesn't take it off for sleep either. Kudos to Shuri.

And it absorbs kinetic energy: just quietly swallows it up for an impact, a punch, a bullet (or, indeed, Daisy's powers). ]

[ Daisy sobers immediately when he pulls off the glove, her heart in her throat at the amount of trust he's putting in her with this gesture. It would have been okay if she'd had to feel the rare metal through the glove, just like it would have been equally okay if he'd said no to her request. But this... She hadn't expected this.

The second his hand reaches out, she wraps both of her own around it, covering as much of the metal as she can in case someone happens to look over or pass by their table. She's so nervous, so afraid of what something like that would do to him that it takes her a moment to focus her attention on the task at hand. Get a feel for the vibranium and then let go, not a second more. ]

Wow.

[ She breathes the word out as her senses take in the metal, the almost void-like feeling of it where everything else is constantly shaking. It's unlike anything she's ever felt before, and she can't help but send the slightest vibration out to feel how it absorbs that energy, the sensation flickering away from her senses. She's lost for a moment, marveling at it with a soft smile on her lips, but then she shakes herself and pulls her hands back with a look of gratitude. ]

Thank you. Really.

[ He doesn't really have much actual sensation in the hand itself beyond the over-arching pressure required to not crush someone else's fingers or shatter a glass, so it's such a strange sensation when she sends that vibration into the metal. Like a small itch humming up his arm and into his back molars, and then gone as quickly as it came, a flash in the pan. His fingers curl in on themselves after she lets go, as if still testing his range of motion.

Unaccustomed to having someone touch him like this.

He manages a crooked smile, though. ]

If you ever wanna cop a feel of the shield, we can probably bug Sam to get a look at it.

[ Yes, he knows how ridiculous that sounds, and it was on purpose. ]

[ That smile is the best thing she's seen all day. It chases away the fear that she'd messed things up, soothes her nerves, and boosts her hope that this might work. And then she bursts into a laugh that has her covering her mouth with a hand while she tries to get hold of herself, which takes a few moments. ]

Only if you promise to phrase it exactly like that. [ Oh what she'd give to see Sam's face at that. She's already picturing giving Sam a hard time herself while simultaneously making sure he knows how much she appreciates his friendship with Bucky. It's the sort of fine line that she's always balanced well. ]

Oh, before I forget... [ A thought occurs to her and she pulls out her phone, wanting to be sure to get the process started before the inevitable hangover that awaits her in the morning. A quick text is fired off to someone who means the world to her and who she trusts to do the right thing.

i'm asking fitzsimmons to hook barnes up with a new prosthetic. no strings. ]

[ Not even ten seconds pass before Mack's reply pops onto her screen, which she shows Bucky by turning the phone toward him.

You got it, Tremors. ]

Director-approved and everything.

[ Bucky cranes over to read the message (he squints on instinct even if he doesn't have to; he'll probably always have 20/20 vision courtesy that super-serum). Bemused, a little impressed: ]

Shit, that's fast. I thought government agencies were notorious for being tied up in red tape and really slow.

[ Daisy shrugs, a pleased little smile curling the corners of her lips. She enjoys every mention of SHIELD that puts the agency in a positive light. ]

We're kind of government-adjacent these days, so it's not as bad as it used to be. But it does help to have an in with the Director. If he'd said no, I would have just texted his wife.

[ The women might have had their differences over the years, but she and Yo-Yo always had each other's backs when it came to the things that really mattered. ]

Using your back-channel connections, huh? I won't judge.

[ Bucky always wants to hang onto these lighter moments when they've got them, before they slip through his — their — fingers, but he winds up slipsliding a little sideways with his next question. Head cocked. Genuinely curious. He's been working with SHIELD recently so naturally he trusts them enough, but he still wonders how the cleanup went. How they managed to get back on their feet after everything: the incident with the helicarriers, the reveal of the takeover, Nat busting all their secrets wide open, the way the rot had grown through it for decades. He'd had a firsthand view from the wrong side of the fence as the Winter Soldier, but hadn't been there for any of the rebuilding. ]

Is the agency doing okay these days? After... everything with HYDRA.

[ The question takes her by surprise. Everything with HYDRA seems like a tricky subject from her point of view, but if he's the one bringing it up, she doesn't mind talking about it. And she can certainly see why he'd have questions, or why he might be concerned. Whatever she can do to set his mind at ease, she resolves to do it and more. ]

Yeah, we're doing okay. Things were hard at first, we had to rebuild from the ground up, and we hit a lot of bumps along the way, but every agent is more dedicated to the cause than ever now. [ She looks down at her hands on the table, smiling faintly. ] We're not as big as we were before HYDRA, but I kind of think that's a good thing. And Coulson's doing most of our recruiting these days, so everyone we get is...

[ Her smile grows with affection for the man in question. ] Well, he's really good at his job.

Yeah, I can imagine organisations getting too big is how things get— missed. [ It's a toothless word to encompass what happened, how they could've missed the wolf among the sheep, but Bucky can't think of any more tactful way to put it. ] When the right hand doesn't know what the left is doing, and you don't know everybody as well as you could, and all. I mean, I'm obviously biased, but I'm used to operating with smaller teams.

[ He's steering neatly clear of HYDRA itself; he's thinking more now about the Howling Commandos, and Steve's team in the civil war, and then him, Sam, and Sharon, doing what they can in Madripoor. (Also Zemo, but like, let's not think about him.) ]

You all seem like a close-knit group.

We are, yeah. And we try to make sure everyone has connections like that within SHIELD, people they know they can trust to have their backs and to be there when they need it most.

[ SHIELD is her family, the reason she manages to get out of bed every day. She misses her close-knit team and spending each day with the people she cares most about, but they're all still out there, just a phone call away.

She opens her mouth to say something, stops, then tries again, her tone hesitant and careful, like she's reaching out to a frightened animal when she doesn't know how it'll react. ]

You should know... There were people who noticed. Who tried to stop HYDRA. HYDRA just stopped them first.

[ Bucky's mouth thins and he glances down, unable to meet her eye for a second, focusing on rolling that whiskey glass back-and-forth between his hands for a bit. Call it a minor saving grace that it hadn't been his own hands on the trigger, for these instances. He hadn't gotten directly involved until the helicarriers and his attempted assassination on Fury. HYDRA had mostly avoided deploying the Soldier on American soil, until they pulled out all the stops with the takeover. ]

That's about what I'd expect. They were good at that.

[ Daisy's hand reaches out across the table, stopping a few inches from his arm even as she so desperately wants to offer him that physical touch of reassurance. Leaning in closer, her tone becomes firm but still soft, insistent but kind. ]

They were, but we still stopped them. And we'll keep stopping them, no matter how many heads try to pop back up. We won't let them hurt anyone else.

[ The way they hurt you. But she can't say those words out loud, not yet. Her hand curls on the table between them but she can neither cross that space nor pull back. ]

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