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It’s more of a nudge, really|| Nick and Reed 

whatdidyouthinkthejstoodfor:

Hello Pot, lovely to meet you.

It was completely expected, predictable even.  Nick can see the little furrow between Reed’s brows as he glances at the time, then the little sigh and nose wrinkle as he responds.  

There wasn’t anything more interesting anyway.

Would you prefer me to be left, bored, to my own devices?

Ben was with me.

Which is not, he knows, a logical or even relevant defense. And since his mission has been such a complete failure, he can’t even justify the extended time away. Nick’s last two texts, whether they were meant to or not, only pricked further at Reed’s guilt.

No. I’m sorry. When will you finish your work for today?

It’s more of a nudge, really|| Nick and Reed 

whatdidyouthinkthejstoodfor:

By now all of Nick’s work had  been forgotten.  It’s probably not the best sign that a single text from Reed, even one completely innocuous, has veto power over the rest of Nick’s schedule.  Nick, honestly, doesn’t much care.

At work he types, then cringes a little.  It’s late, very late, and he and Reed have had Words about Keeping Reasonable Hours.  At least this time Reed doesn’t have much of a position to stand on seeing as how his usual soapbox was currently wrapped in hypocrite paper.

You at Baxter?

Yes, I am.

Reed peers at the time on his phone, his tongue peeking out of his mouth a little in frustration and concentration. Each other’s work schedules is an argument they’ve rehashed time and time again, and he slips into disapproving mode without being fully cognizant of his own hypocrisy.

Shouldn’t you be in bed by now?

zeeewa:

do not motherfucking disturb

zeeewa:

do not motherfucking disturb

Posted 1 week ago
3636 notes   ~Reblog

Tags: #whatdidyouthinkthejstoodfor  

It’s more of a nudge, really|| Nick and Reed 

whatdidyouthinkthejstoodfor:

Nick sits back in his chair, already grinning a little from actually getting a response.  He taps out a reply then immediately deleted it before he embarrasses himself.

Was about to respond with a ‘Hi’.

Luckily I remembered I was a grown fucking man and not a teenager.

You’ve resurfaced then?

Yes. Fully present and awake. Though not, probably, for long. His legs droop off into more or less a puddle around the legs of his chair, and he’s slumped over the kitchen table. Despite this, he still feels a strong urge to see Nick. Funny (and by funny he thinks he means unhealthy) how he can go for an extended period of time only rarely remembering and missing his Beta, but then suddenly feel like this at the first contact. Where are you? he texts.

It’s more of a nudge, really|| Nick and Reed 

whatdidyouthinkthejstoodfor:

It had been fucking months since Nick and Reed had any time at all to spend together and Nick was starting to get… antsy.  A quiet alert sounds on his phone when, finally, Reed is pinged in this world or reality or whateverthefuck and it takes Nick a good thirty seconds of staring at the device before decided that no, it’s not too stalkery to text immediately.

'Welcome back'

There.  That’s innocent enough.

After a three-month investigation into a new element (which possibly shared many properties with vibranium), all Reed and Ben have to show for it are 47 crates of miscellaneous dirt, half of a left shoe that Ben swears belonged to Johnny at one point, and that pervasive nausea that accompanies both too frequent and too extensive trips to the Microverse. Their irregular breaks have mostly been spent at the Baxter Building, so Reed’s contact with anyone outside of the Baxter’s residents has been regrettably brief.

When he gets the text, he guiltily realizes that he’d managed to slip into yet another obsessive phase without noticing, and this time the cost of his asociality is Nick. He replies almost immediately, Thank you. A moment later, which he spent wondering if that was too terse, he adds, Hello.

Posted 1 month ago
2 notes   ~Reblog

Tags: #mdkb2  
unshaped:

middriff:

he tried to help

tried

unshaped:

middriff:

he tried to help

tried

  • Reed: I suppose I shall have to test that theory. Are there differing degrees of cuteness by which I can measure?
  • Reed: You. My cat. And what I can only assume is some form of forced kitten-dancing.
  • Johnny: I... ummm.... I'm not sure. I guess you could make a scale or something by how cute something is. You're the science nerd not me
  • Johnny: Oh.... that...
  • Johnny: She asked if she could have that dance and I just couldn't say no to that face
  • Reed: Of course not.

Quelle horreur! The Phone Call / Reed and Tony 

uponamechanicalthrone:

Tony knew the hiss of the pneumatic door in the background just as well as he knew the ache in Reed’s tone when he spoke over it. He’d locked himself off on the lab floor, like both of them were prone to do, and Tony himself had only abstained from work to look after his son so he was conscious enough to catch it.

For once.

That didn’t help the uneasiness it put into the pit of his gut. “Top floor,” he murmured as he carefully re-positioned himself, cradling an arm under the infant on his chest as he rose to a sitting position and carefully maneuvered himself to his feet. He knew what this situation called for. It was the common language among lab workers, and he knew Reed well enough to know what his closest lab assistant since Bruce’s last disappearance needed to function. “Come on up. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Reed affirmed but neither hung up, and Tony didn’t have it in him to disconnect the call even as he heard the elevator whir to life in the background of the call when he put it on speaker and laid his phone on the counter. By the time the noise died down the elevator on his floor echoed in slight delay, a chime tuning just as he filled a second coffee cup and when he turned around Reed was waiting in the kitchen door frame with a look that said he would bolt at any second… except Tony knew he was partial to Colombian roast, and might have already had a pot on hand to lure him in with.

"Hey," he began, his smile hesitant and obviously reining back his excitement as he nodded to the half-awake infant cradled in his left arm. "Wanna come meet the Stark dynasty heir before the tabloids get to? Even if he doesn’t bite, he doesn’t have teeth yet so you’re safe for now."

Admittedly, it was probably a very awkward move to remain on the phone without speaking, but this thought didn’t occur to Reed until after he’d already gotten off the elevator, and by that time he had the smell of coffee to distract him. He edged toward the kitchen, hanging up his cell and meaning to put it in his pocket, but his first attempt missed. He caught it before it hit the ground with a casual stretch of his arm, and ended up lingering in the doorway, fingers subtly wrapping and tightening around the phone held stiffly at his side. Considering that they’d just been talking, it would be redundant to offer Tony any greeting now. Instead, he managed eye contact with his friend and gave him a tight smile in return, about as hesitant and restrained as Tony’s smile had been.

His eyes then flickered, first to the baby, then shying away and glancing at the coffee, more out of a need to not look at Aleph for a moment than from a desire for its liquid comfort. “He would not have sufficient jaw strength to do me any harm, regardless,” Reed answered automatically, even as he registered Tony’s words as merely a joke. But his eyes did eventually return to the child, and though he’d never thought that he would be capable of disliking Aleph, he hadn’t expected to be able to feel any great amount of tenderness toward him either. Well, it was an evolutionary instinct to feel kindly toward infants, otherwise the human race would surely die out from a lack of care for its young.

He tilted his head to one side, studying the oldest of Stark Tower’s newest residents. For one relieving moment, he was able to detach himself from his inner emotional maelstrom and simply observe, a skill that he usually only called upon in the lab. The scant puffs of hair on the baby’s head had a reddish tint, and his cheeks were rosy but thinner than might be expected of the average newborn, perhaps because he was the sickly twin. He appeared to be possessed of all the right body parts, all functional and in the correct proportions.

"He is a pleasing combination of yours and Pepper’s genetic material and you should be proud," Reed concluded. Sue always complimented other people’s babies when she met them, which he inferred was probably a social expectation. His throat still felt too tight, but he didn’t appear to be in any danger of actually crying—something that hasn’t happened in years. He tried for a more genuine smile. It helped that Tony looked genuinely happier and more at peace than Reed has seen in a long time. He’d half-expected Tony to be more tense than usual, now that he had two terrifyingly fragile dependents to protect. It seemed that wasn’t the case, however.