#captainhardofhearing

ASK:  “How often do I need to tell you how amazing you look, before you’ll believe me?”

“Until you stop lying about it.” He shrugged, still a little disheartened.

Steve gave Bucky an unimpressed look, arms crossed over his skinny chest. “Really? The best lie you could come up with is the cat? Yes, I know I’m allergic to it. Yes, I realize as an asthmatic it’s not the best idea. But the cat will be leaving once we get her a new home. The lady down the street with two little girls are interested, so it won’t be too long.” He sighed, running a hand over his face as he looked at Bucky again between his fingers.

“Are you going to tell me what is really going on?”  

The cat wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t the whole truth but he knows Steve knows why he’s worried about keeping it around. Just like he’s sure Steve knows what else they are both concerned about. That’s the thing when it comes to Steve; there’s that mutual understanding between them to where communication doesn’t need to be done using words.

He sank back into the wobbly arm chair, before a sigh escaped him and he leaned forward again, though always keeping his eyes on his roommate. 

“You-- I know you’re gonna let the cat in here again, Steve.” 

It’s been a good while since he became a soldier--and a sergeant--and he was up for getting new orders soon. Chances are good his next papers aren’t gonna say ‘Brooklyn’ on it. 

Peggy knew she should be furious with Howard for experimenting on Steve’s blood again, but when he’d called her in basically the dead of night with some... urgent matter, she knew she needed to set aside her anger and see what he was up to again. Or if he was in some kind of pickle that he needed help out of. Again. “Howard?” She knocked on the front door only to feel it open under her touch, which only served to put her on alert. “Howard? Mr Jarvis?” Peggy called, stepping slowly into the darkened house and frowning.

Slowly, she closed the door behind her and slid into the shadows. No one was in the foyer, and there was no one in the sitting room. Where the bloody hell was everyone? A light was on in the kitchen, and she figured it was one of the two she’d called. Perhaps they hadn’t heard her, or perhaps Howard needed help with something. Perhaps he was drunk, she didn’t know. “Howard, I don’t exactly know what you--”

Nine months. It had been nine months since he got out. Nine months since his whole world view was decimated, nine months for him to re-learn the world. It was a big milestone. He looked out onto the world he never thought he’d be a part of, and he felt... incomplete. A month ago it would tell you it was his arm causing it, that the prosthesis didn’t cut it. But recently he’s come to accept it, to almost cherish it. After all, it was state of the art, and a symbol of his new freedom. So that wasn’t it.

Bucky had been musing on this feeling for a few days now with his recovery and accountability partner, Nat, over the phone. She suggested getting a date, or doing something that made his body more his own again. Reclaiming it. Nat had done that for herself in her own way, but Bucky wasn’t exactly ready to do anything as big as Nat’s reclamation just yet. And that’s when Nat mentioned body modification.

“Like, tattos n’ shit, right?” He had asked, washing his one plate from dinner while on call. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea...”

Do I know your muse(s): yes | no | a little | tell me about your muse

Setting: our verse | my verse | your verse | modern | alternate universe | other

Pre-established relationships? yes | no | depends on the relationship

Possible relationships: friends | classmate | co-worker | roommate | family, real or adopted | dating or blind date | married | friends with benefits | unrequited love | lending a hand | teacher - student | rivals | allies | partner-in-crime | enemies | protecter - guarded | business partners | spy - infiltrated | manipulator - manipulated | star-crossed | first meeting | other

I’m in the mood for: fluff | angst | horror | romance | humor | crime | hurt / comfort | action | supernatural | slice of life | crack | dark threads | light threads | any genre | multi-para | shorter para | one-line | any length | plotted threads | unplotted threads | other

Tony Stark had just realise that he’d made a really, really bad mistake. 

Probably worse than the time he set his fathers lab on fire.

Because Tony Stark, son of the billionaire genius Howard Stark was currently the wrong colour, the wrong size, and the wrong creature.

He was a FROG

---

He’d been in this predicament for the last half an hour, and had managed to hop away from the man that had caused the problem, finding himself sat on the windowsill of some apartment he didn't recognise, scowling at the moon and the stars and he sat there, thinking through his new problem.