you are stardust

                   Enjolras looks up quickly at the mention of coffee, his fingers never leaving his keyboard as he continues to type even while looking at Cosette, a talent earned through years of practice. ❝ You read my mind. I ran out of coffee like an hour ago. ❞

                    He doesn’t touch the cup, though, fingers too busy formulating words of righteous anger and indignation. ❝ I’m thinking of adding a page to our website with scripts for people to use when they call their representatives. Not everyone knows what to say on the phone so maybe we can give ‘em something to read from. ❞ 

      Cosette grins at the knee-jerk reaction. Enjolras is powered, she guesses, mostly by coffee, and it’s no surprise to seem him perk up at the mention of it. Still, there is something charming (and just a teensy bit hilarious) about the response.  ❝ Well, my father always told me I was special, so... Maybe they dipped me in radioactive waste as a child. Because I could swear I heard some whisperings about you and not enough sleep. ❞

        ❝ no, no, we  —- ❞  god, were it anything other than reassurances that first sprang to his lips!  however, he finds he can say little else, more than taken by her boldness, given sway by confident words, suggestion that had come all too easily to her tongue, as though natural, a dobutless progression of having kept each other’s company to this point.  marius would have nearly refused, have turned away or brought forth an excuse had she not met a few of the mentioned amis already, if it was not likely that they hadn’t seen her before, either.  he’s hardly been the type to bring a newcomer in his wake, having been the last of such to the group himself, but despite this finds himself already beginning to look forward, to yearn with excitement.  ❝   —-  we can easily bring someone else along.  the more the merrier, right? ❞

@galaxiesmade

“Come on, I feel like you’re going easy on me now, Wilson.”

There’s a snide undertone to his voice, which is only helped by the smirk that’s stretching across his lips. He’s a little sweaty, and Sam’s worked up his heart’s rhythm quite a little over the past hour and a half, but not to the extent Steve thinks Sam could while sparring.

This isn’t bad, by any means. But it could be better. And just a little bit better can matter out in the field. Just a little bit better can save your life.

“Is it the shield slowing you down?”

Sam, who is breathing a little more heavily than he might like, gives Steve a look.

“Oh really, old man?”

He’s smirking a little bit, but a stubborn, immature part of him is having a few different thoughts. One of these is the part conditioned by cross country–– do better, push harder, prove this cocky little shit wrong. Then, there is the part of him that wants to pin Steve and wipe that stupid look off his face. You know, maybe with his own mouth... There are options.

“Nah, man the shield is...”

He looks at Steve again. He can’t lie to him, god damn it. A sigh.

      Steve has his chin in his hand, and the look he sends up to her is positively pitiful. He clearly doesn’t believe her reassurances much, especially since she has the same fear. Eventually Steve’s gaze turns back down to the table, where he’s been worrying at a knot there. “How can you be sure of that?” he asks quietly, though for the moment it isn’t Steve looking for the same reassurance he’s always found in Peggy. It’s disbelief, something of a broken sound that reflects the rare hopelessness weighing on him.

sam’s hands are up in the air, fingers rigid and straight, fear gripping at her core. he won’t hurt her. there’s no way he would hurt her, right? the gun isn’t aimed at her head. if he fires, the worst case scenario is that her hearing gets kicked in the ass. but she knows she needs to talk. his words make sense. sam understands the feeling of being watched, of feeling like no one is safe. but things are different now, she’s found cosima, she’s found the others, she’s found fox... but for him, it’s not so simple. people are after him day in and day out. people have tried to hurt him and it might be her fault. deep breath. deep breath.

               he’d just got the ass-chewing-out of his life and nearly lost his job because of how he’d handled a case. scully was being thrown in with this as well and she was mad at their superiors who weren’t listening to any shred of evidence they gave. so, she went to her apartment to stew and look over their field notes while mulder headed to the bar. upon entrance, the place was deserted. a glance at his wrist watch told him it wasn’t as late as he felt — only 3 in the afternoon. large form plops onto a stool before answering. 

              ❝ i want a row of shots… ❞ his finger drew a line on the bar where he wanted them absently. 

                   sam arched an eyebrow. it was a bit early for shots, but who was she to talk? it wasn’t as if she hadn’t let people make unwise decisions before. her expression was not so much judgmental as it was curious. it’s not unusual to get gloomy customers on the dead shifts, but this guy seemed just the slightest bit unusual. for all sam knew, he was just some chump who got fired or didn’t get a promotion. but there was something about him that intrigued her. it was more than likely nothing, but still, she wondered what it could be. the smile returned to her face, unable to escape a little bit of the puzzlement that painted the rest of her features.

     “....”

     “– I don’t really know that much about you, do I?” she muses, a gentle mumble while hands tangle. “Tell me about… like… I don’t know. Family. Favorites. The weirdest shit you ever had to put in your mouth.”

@galaxiesmade​ liked for a starter.