AU

brickhousebuck:

An Excerpt: Bucky stretched, toes hooking over the end of his bed and arms out to his sides to avoid the headboard. He relaxed, popped his jaw, stared up at the ceiling for a long moment as he woke up fully. Then he was pushing upright, grabbing the pile of mostly clean clothes off his desk chair, and pulling them on. A swipe of deodorant, then he was grabbing his bathroom gear.

Within five minutes he was out the door, closing it behind him carefully as to not wake his teammates. He readjusted the bag over his shoulder, fingers stroking the strap lightly as he walked across the campus. His boots crunched on the thin layer of frost, and there was no one else around. Not even the crazy jocks on the football team were out for their run yet.

Bucky checked his watch as he reached the rink, a big, hulking building that had been more than a little intimidating when he’d first stood in its shadow. He pushed open the doors at exactly four thirty am, after fumbling with his access card for a few precious seconds.

He didn’t bother going to the locker room. He didn’t need anything from there, not this time. He just kept walking, past the rooms, through the tunnel, fingers brushing along the stick rack as he passed. Then he was out on the boards, and he could almost feel the tension leaving him. It’d been a long. Fucking. Week.

He had his lace-tying down to thirty seconds, and barely felt the tight cut of the nylon against his fingers as he checked, then checked again. Guards off. Final lace check, and he was out.

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frostbitebakery:

DOGGIE AU PART 3 (mainly because I have no impulse-control. Ever.)

“What the ever loving hell is this.”

Borky and Stebe look up at Sam’s voice from where they were digging the third hole. They bark in excitement and run to him even if they’re a bit miffed they couldn’t surprise him with Hole Number 4 which would’ve been the Best.
“Nat! Why didn’t you do anything?!”

Natasha looks up from her magazine.

“You rick-rolled me, Wilson. Nobody rick-rolls me.”

“And then!”
Clint takes Stebe’s head between his hands.

“And then she asked me out on a date!”

Stebe whines at Clint’s high pitched voice and sticks his head between the couch cushions. Clint pats him and apologizes.

“Of course I said yes. After she blew up the building.”

Stebe does. Not. Like. Cats. Especially that Devil of Mrs Wittgers.

Nat sighs as she climbs the tree for the third time this week to get him.

Borky growls. This evil creature will not get the best of him. He growls again, louder, and doesn’t break eye contact. He will win.

“Sam, Borky is scaring Butterblossom.”

Wanda snags up her bunny and coos at it soothingly.

“Borky, down.”

Did that malicious fiend just smirk at him???

Sam loves it that Borky is so affectionate. Trying to climb up onto his lap and wanting cuddles. Licking his chin and burrowing into his chest like a medium sized ball of fluff. Or just lying curled up on his chest and snoring softly.

What he doesn’t love so much is the farting. In his face.

Stebe is running after a laughing Steve through garden, both golden and radiant in the sunlight. Borky whines longingly from where he’s lying in Bucky’s lap. Bucky pets him.

“I get it, pal. I get it.”

Sam pats his own shoulder. He’s a genius. Borky takes to the ball in a matter of seconds, nosing it through the living room and yipping happily when it lets out a squeak.

Sam is an idiot. He puts a pillow over his head as Borky, proud of his new toy, pads up and down the bed, ball between his jaws, squeaking with every step. Squeak, squeak, squeak.

Clint rubs his arms as he’s waiting for the coffee machine. He wishes Nat would turn up the heating but alas.
Stebe pads up to him, dropping something at his feet. Clint grins and scratches his ears.
…

“Clint, why are you wearing my dressing gown.”

“It’s a gift from Stebe. It’s mine now.”

First a blanket for Sam. Then a pillow. He noses the TV remote to his human friend, gets Blanket and climbs into Sam’s lap.
Sam smiles down at him wetly and hugs Borky to his chest.

“Thank you.”

Stebe barks and lies down, paws over his snout, before getting up and shuddering. Borky is silent for a second, then barks in agreement.

“What do you think they’re talking about?”

“Probably your meatloaf. What did you even put in there?”

Nat slaps Sam’s arm none too gently.

Fan is Borky’s new Bestest Friend. Sam agrees and lies down behind Borky. This heat wave can suck it.

Stebe Loves laundry day, he thinks as he snuggles deeper into the freshly dried and warm clothes. Natasha does not.

“No.”

“But think of the possibilities! You would match!”

“No.”

“But–”

“Tony, I forbid you from making wings for Borky.”

The first time Stebe saw T’Challa in costume he jumped straight into Natasha’s arms.

Borky on the other hand padded up to him, sat on his hind legs, and pawed at the air in a clear sign of “Pick me up and give me cuddles.”

Stebe doesn’t understand this kind of reckless behavior at all.

So Stebe and Nat like to go parachuting.

Nat does not expect this when she opens the text. It’s a picture of Borky in a corner, miserably looking over his shoulder and into the camera. There’s a sign leaning against his back. “I’ve been put in Time Out until I learn to respect the sanctity of Sam’s potted plants.”

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