ii. exhales itself in flowers.

           hayden gleefully leans in when maggie does, eyes lit with excitement. hayden loves the baby version of most animals, and kittens happen to be his favorite domestic animal. “i didn’t know she was pregnant!” the thrill in is voice is genuine and it feels almost foreign –it has been an eternity since hayden has felt anything beyond pain and misery. he nods emphatically as maggie describes the kittens and their personalities. if his apartment would allow it, hayden would have gotten a cat months ago. someone to keep him company now that he was living on his own. “they’re all so small and adorable, maggie.” he offers her a smile, eyes sparkling with the pure joy that comes along with new life. “i think i am in love with seline,” he leans in for a closer look, “she looks like a princess.”

          hayden leans back onto his hands, the damp grass cold against his bare skin and he rolls his head from one side to the other. a chill trickles up his spine, the cool autumn air seeping through the layers of his t shirt and flannel. sunlight filtering through overhead trees offers little in the way of warmth, but his company is good and there are more muffins in the bag. hopefully maggie won’t mind when he reaches into the bag without looking for another delicious baked treat. “so, do you think you will keep any of them?” hayden has attempted to adopt a few strays in his life –his grandfather keeps up the cat hut hayden built at his home in new brunswick. he even sends hayden pictures of its various visitors and regales him with tales of turf wars and “lovers quarrels.” hayden really loves his grandfather and is thankful to have him close. “i would take a couple, if i could.” he munches on his second muffin, contemplating ways to sneak pets into his home. “my landlord just has a very strict no pets, not even a gold fish, policy.” wide eyes meet hers, “but they are just so cute!” 

“𝐈 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐄𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑! 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃!” 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓       giggled while pulling her phone from her bag to show Hayden the little bundles of joy. She had always loved cats and when Hodor wandered into her life, old and starving, she felt like she found her calling. Margaret had always been fairly good with animals but especially cats. She felt like animals knew she was dying so they were more patient with her but Hodor was easily the most patient creature she had ever come across. And now she had all these tiny little furry jellybeans to care for and it was probably the best thing she’s ever got to do. “You should come over!” she encouraged looking at Hayden with large, bright eyes and a beaming smile, “Yeah! Yeah, they’re being socialized with people so having someone who isn’t me would be really good for them and Mrs Bartleby is really great with people too so I’m sure she wouldn’t mind!”

Margaret slipped her phone carefully back into her bag as Hayden leaned back comfortably on his hands. She still had cocoa left so she wrapped her hands securely around the paper cup to absorb what little warmth there was left while her friend spoke. She could listen to Hayden talk all day; his voice was so soothing and smooth. It was no wonder he was in a band, a voice like that, although--  she wasn’t sure if he was a singer or just played an instrument. “Um, I want to,” she admitted with a little puff of air and looking up, “I want to keep all of them.” She smiled in his direction and looked back at her cocoa, thinking. “I think, though, I’d feel just as good finding them all really good furever homes. Maybe I can find one for Mrs Bartleby, too! She’s a great mama and a really sweet cat. All she does is lay there with her kittens--  purring. Hodor loves them too, he just kinda lays with her and cleans her and the kittens--  purring,” she looked at Hayden seriously, “There’s a lot of purring at my house. I think my dad started purring in his sleep. Don’t ask me how he does it, I just know he does.”  Her gaze shifted to the lawn where a group of guys were starting golf frisbee and she watched them while Hayden informed her of his living conditions. “Oh that’s no fun,” she pouted sympathetically, “Get a therapy kitty. I don’t think he’s allowed to kick you out if you have a doctor’s note for the cat and with everything going on for you, you can probably get one easily.” Pausing, Margaret realized what she said and how it might have sounded and she frowned. “I’m sorry, that was a little rude.”

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐙𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃       repeatedly on Remy’s door, a moment of panic seizing her. She shifted on her feet and looked back towards her apartment then at Remy’s door then leaned backward a bit to look towards the stairs before knocking a few more times. Once the door opened, Margaret seized Remy’s hand, “There you are! I was worried you wouldn’t be home! I tried texting but you never texted me back and I tried calling but I guess you didn’t hear the phone--  or you’re ignoring me,” she paused in the middle of the hall where she had began pulling Remy and looked up at him with even more panic, “Are you ignoring me?”

Richard closed his eyes as he felt Margaret’s head snuggled up against his. He suddenly felt warmer amidst the chilly evening bustling outside the window. Suddenly, the Scotsman couldn’t bother stifling back quiet laughter to the woman’s words. “Bloody hell, Maggie, I dunno’ whether to find tha’ intimidatin’ or slightly kinky. Why I continue to put up with ya’, despite ya’ treatin’ me as only a footstool is beyond me,” he shook his head, that ruddy smile still planted on his face.

“Maybe it’s ‘cause ya’ can’t say not to my unbelievable, Scottish charm?” he winked. “Tell ya’ wha’, how ‘bout for next Friday night you get to decide wha’ we’re gonna do; and, don’t worry, I won’t mind if it doesn’t involve booze.”

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐃      the word ‘kinky.’ “Only you would find death kinky, Richie,” she chided lightly with a subtle roll of her eyes. “And I do not treat you as just a footstool,” she argued, “you’re also: a pillow, a headrest, a grocery holder, and you also have the delightful title of:  Portable Heater.” Margaret’s smile was a warm and kind one as she peeked at Richard and then sighed dramatically while adjusting her glasses and slowly pulling herself upright. “We need water,” she grumbled tiresomely, “if we don’t drink some now, we’ll regret it in the morning.” Slowly, unsteadily, Margaret pulled herself to her feet and shuffled towards the kitchen to retrieve two chilled water bottles. “Although,” she started, “with your drinking habits, I doubt you even remember what a hangover is.” It was a gentle and playful jest seeing as how Richard was a Scotsman and, like many Irish, they were known for knowing how to put away their fair share of alcohol. Richard was no different although he only seemed to really drink when he was drinking with her. Oh, how lucky she was.

Margaret handed Richard one of the waters and fell back onto the couch beside him; twisting the top off her water she sipped at it with a sour expression. Why did water always taste so much worse after a night of drinking? “We need something to binge watch,” she decided through a yawn, “If you’re staying you can pick the show.”

i       am     horribly      limited.

Steve’s face felt like it was burning as he adjusted his glasses and looked around frantically for the pencil he could’ve sworn he had just a moment ago. Flustered, he came to the conclusion that he must have left it behind in the break room, before Nurse Melbie pulled it out from where it was – tucked behind his left ear. God, he was a mess.

He hadn’t been working at the hospital for very long, so he was still trying to get his bearings on the whole thing. It wasn’t that the job was difficult for him in the work aspect of it, it was just that sometimes he forgot how to be a human almost. Social interaction was few and far between now that he lived on his own and hardly had time to go out. Being on call constantly in case the hospital was short-staffed was a problem when making plans, so Steve just didn’t.

The patient was young, seemed to be around his age, and that was only confirmed as he looked down at her chart in his hand, tried to ignore the fact that she was teasing him. He didn’t take it to heart, not as actual flirting. More like an attempt at distracting him, like some of the older patients who tried grabbing his ass as he checked their vitals.

Bambi. Hmph. He’s heard that one before a million times, just from Nurse Melbie alone. He gets it, yeah. Big eyes, clumsy as all fuck. Hardy-har-har.

Steve coughed at the patient’s comment once they were all alone, nearly choking on his own spit. He cleared his throat, reading over her chart again. “So. Margaret? Is it okay if I call you Maggie? The name Margaret reminds me of this one lady who used to hand out pennies on Halloween instead of candy.”

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄’𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐇 𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄     fumbled to find something. She was waiting patiently for him to find whatever it was he was looking for when Nurse Melbie came in and pulled a pencil from behind the male’s ear making Margaret snicker quietly before taking her medicine. There were a lot of pills so it took her a minute or two to wash them all down. She leaned to the left to watch Nurse Melbie leave before sitting back comfortably in her bed and wiggling down deeper under her blankets as the nurse came over.

He was younger than the other nurses she’s had. Maybe closer to her in age but she didn’t know, men aged differently than girls and nurses were looking younger and younger these days. Why, she remembered being little and all the nurses were older than her parents and now? They were all fresh out of high school. It was weird but she had to admit, this guy was definitely one of the cuter guys she’s seen here at the hospital. 

BY THE TIME GERALT CONVINCES HIMSELF to pry his eyes open the noises around him have multiplied – a young woman, no more than just a girl who peers at him with deep, large eyes.  For a moment all he can fathom is a thankfulness for black clothing.  Darkness hides darkness, only his body language can betray him.  Stiff and sluggish for a witcher as he sits up, teeth knotting together until a wave of pain rushes through and away.  “Hmm.”  Geralt glances down at his feet.  A large cat looks back up at him, ten times Roach’s size and clearly fond of not being the only cat in the park.  Pity that Roach isn’t the type to pay others attention.  Surly bitch, he thinks as he tugs on her tail.  “Got a lot of bite in you.”

The low thrum of bemused admiration is there in Geralt’s tone - he just isn’t sure that the girl can hear it.  With a grunt he leans downwards to extend callused fingers towards the larger feline, already resigned to being bitten and casting his eyes back towards the young woman.  “Fine.  Could be worse.”  Geralt amends after a moment.  “No harm meant, didn’t expect a cat to be around me.  Tend not to be fond of my presence, figured a mugger made more sense.”  Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if she ended up trying something anyway.  Still read as more likely than two living beings finding their way to him of their own volition.  The cat alone should smell blood and ichor off of him.  And the girl – well, who can be sure what anyone sees in strangers these days?  He doubts he looks the most impressive.  

“Your friend here is favoring a leg.”

‘ do you think it’s a small thing? if i had the whole box, i’d NEVER share it with anyone! ‘

          only a half joke because, at this point, it’s well established that super-soldiers can easily eat this whole world and the next, if left to their own devices. inhumanly fast healing comes at a price, and a super-serum’d metabolism can be a handful when it comes to calories intake. which explains Bucky’s wide smile once he’s so kindly offered the plate, wasting no time to sink his teeth on the first treat coming to hand — or it would have been, if Margaret’s next words didn’t provoke a bit of an internal collapse.

‘ no… thanks. don’t drink milk anymore. ‘

          but how could she have known? it’s certainly not her fault that, even to this day, every time he thinks of milk he immediately sees the face of Alexander Pierce coming along. is it silly, if not downright pathetic, that such a small, mundane thing left such an ugly scar? especially compared with everything else he had to endure? then again, all of it exists enmeshed and entangled… and, well. it is too nice of an evening to allow it to be ruined by ptsd-induced flashbacks and, so, he makes himself smile at her again.

‘ your secret’s safe with me. ‘

AN AIRY SORT OF LAUGH BUBBLED UP FROM     deep in Margaret’s belly at Bucky’s honesty, a brilliant smile as she passed him the sticky treat before sucking honey off her finger. She never minded sharing although she had been known to be rather stingy in her youth, wanting all the sweets for herself and forgetting that she was supposed to a team player. Maybe some things you really did outgrow. Or maybe she just learned that sometimes sharing was just better. Margaret watched Bucky eat his snack with a fond expression. She didn’t know the whole story with a lot of the players in SHIELD but Bucky seemed to be an extra clouded mystery. It didn’t deter her from saying hi when she saw him or from offering idle chitchat whenever they found each other in the same lounge for a few hours to recharge or on lunch breaks. It was always nice to talk to him and she figured something would break off little chunks of information here and there. She’d get to know him better--  whenever he was ready to share.

“But you did once?” she asked looking at him and see the look of panic on his face so she put the carton back and closed the fridge with a soft, “Sorry.” Of course she found it strange that something like milk would trigger that kind of response but, well, ever since she saw IT, Margaret had a great fear of red balloons that had haunted her from her childhood so--  she wasn’t one to judge. It wasn’t her place to make him feel weird about not wanting milk or for looking like he had just saw a ghost so she’d move on. Moving on was what Margaret did best, anyway. “Thank you,” she said before biting into her baklava, “And as payment for your continued loyalty, I will show you where my stashes are.”

“Hmm. Not bad. Not bad at all. I’m actually touched you’ve put in this much thought into my death. It’s touchin’ really,” chuckled Richard. “Although, if I had to pick, I’d rather just die in Hodor’s hands… or, erm… Paws, rather. I mean, aye, on one hand, you’ve got a lot of teeth and claws to mind, but on the other hand, at least the last thing I’d see is an adorable cat.”

“Sure, I don’t mind stayin’ the night. I mean, it’s late anyways, and I have to admit tha’ booze is–… Wait… Is tha’ all I’m good for. A foot rest?” he inquired, opening his eyes to school Maggie a mocking smirk.

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃       as he went on about how touching her plan for his demise had been. Rolling her dark eyes, Margaret leaned more heavily as he mentioned Hodor. Her cat sat quietly on his favorite chair by the window, watching the snow fall while she and Richard tried not to fall off the world. “We both know if you went out by Hodor’s paw it’d be because he smothered you during snuggle time,” Margaret laughed lightly shaking her head, “That would be a dream way to go. Snuggled to death by a twenty-two pound cat.” She snorted and covered her mouth with wide eyes, looking at Richard with a flush to her cheeks.

          hayden contemplates which particular muffin he would like to devour as they claim their spot under the shady oak tree. the damp earth gives hayden a chill; something to remind himself he is still very much alive. before maggie can sit, hayden lays his jacket down on the grass, she shouldn’t have to take part in his self induced suffering. “you can sit on my jacket,” hazel eyes find hers with a smile, “don’t worry –i’ve got another in my car if i need it.” once she’s settled down with him, hayden takes a peek in her bag of goodies, eyes and stomach in sync as he picks out the chocolate chip muffin. for a few minutes, hayden allows himself to enjoy the solitude of the lawn, the warmth of the coffee and baked good are comforting and hayden is truly grateful maggie stopped him this morning.            hayden appriciates maggie’s gracious nature; she doesn’t force him to talk about teddy. most of the time he ends up feeling guilty for denying people the chance to discuss his best friend, but for hayden the wound is too fresh. well meaning people can be the worst allies for those in mourning and hayden is happy maggie jokes about not being ready to listen. in a way, she has listened better than most of his friends when he told them he didn’t want to talk. hayden sets his coffee down, placing his muffin on the lid of his cup before wiping the crumbs off of his hands onto the grass. a curious eyebrow is raised in her direction, a small smile is offered, “so, i know it’s been a while since i’ve been to the book store,” a while is an understatement, “what ever happened to that stray cat?”

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐖𝐍,     the wheels squeaking in their protest before they reached the tree. She always did prefer autumn to other seasons--  it was only a little because it was her birthday. When Hayden dropped his jacket to the presumably damp ground, she opened her mouth to protest but he was already assuring her it was fine. Making sure she didn’t step on the nice sacrifice to her skirt, Margaret more fell into a seat rather than gracefully descended into one making her give a quick little hiccup as air rushed up from impact. Smiling gratefully, Margaret offered Hayden the little pouch of muffins so he could make his choice before picking off a bite of one the remaining muffins for herself. They’re sat in the sunlight filtering through the branches, brightly colored leaves floating down from the higher branches and Margaret was content with people watching for a few minutes; sipping her cocoa and munching on her breakfast. She stole a few glances at Hayden and would smile brightly whenever their eyes locked before she went back to people watching. She knew what it was like, not wanting to talk but wanting to be around someone. Sometimes, it was just easier to sit quietly.

She’s almost done with the muffin when Hayden asked about the stray cat. “Oh, Mrs Bartleby?” she asked curiously remembering the old calico cat that came around the last time Hayden was at the bookstore, there’s an affirmative nod as she pinched one last bite from her muffin and took a gulp of cocoa; a contented sigh. “She had her kittens,” Margaret explained trying to contain her utter excitement over the litter her parents were letting her nurse with the new mama cat. “Nine little fur jellybeans, they just opened their eyes a couple nights ago,” her eyes widened as she looked at Hayden hopefully, “Wanna see?” She’s already pulling out her phone and going to the pictures of the kittens to show Hayden. “Okay,” she scooted closer to him so they both can see the bundles of joy, “This is Salvatore, he’s the runt. Oh and these are the twins Sylvia and Samuel, they’re the only all grey cats in the little. Sydney is a calico like her mama, oh Sawyer has a green and a gold eye, Sasha is the adventurer that’s why she’s on my head, she keeps climbing up there during cuddle time. Seb Cat is a little shier but he’s always getting into mischief he just does it--  shyly.” She scrolled through a few pictures of Mrs Bartleby and the litter as a group, “Oh Steeb!! Steeb’s my favorite, he chases his tail and waits for all the other kitties to nurse before he goes to get himself some, he mostly sleeps. And this little white fluff cottonball is Seline, she has these eyes oh man, she’s gonna be one pretty little kitty.”