logsinthenight | You wanted them to bring friends over, Aziraphale [Closed]

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You wanted them to bring friends over, Aziraphale [Closed]

characters: Bucky/Soldat, Sora, Aziraphale, Crowley, and Misty
location: Miner's Castle #3
date/time: January 10, after this
content: Dragging a cold kid over for dinner
warnings: Nothing beyond the usual for these guys

On the way back from the armory after Sora's ill-conceived decision to hare off alone in a blizzard, it's not hard to change direction on the way to the library just enough to wind up somewhere else, instead. The Soldier would be surprised if Sora managed to figure it out until they're already almost there, if not already climbing the porch, between the dark, the flurries, and the snow piled up everywhere making the world seem new and different. If they hadn't been keeping up patrols once a day even with this storm, they might not have been able to get them both back in a timely manner, themselves.

"Inside," they say through their scarf, gruff with the cold, the need to take the damn thing off before they start feeling the mask instead, and the desire be inside where it's warm and they can take out the stress of the day by feeding people. "You're getting hot food before I take you back to that damn cot."

Besides, they know perfectly well Aziraphale invited the kid a while ago. They follow the network pretty obsessively, and that conversation wasn't private. So this is okay. After stamping snow off on the porch, brushing it off their hair and coat, they open the door to the cozy living room, repeating, "Inside."

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Sora did not, in fact, notice! He may be a cyborg as well, but he is not immune to the cold; he was opening his hands to cast fire into the snow in front of them, flattening a path forward, but he had his nose stuck firmly into his collar and his eyes to the darkened snow in front of their feet. When he lifts his eyes and spots not the library doors but the smattering of cabins around them, he narrows them, but continues to walk with them to the cabin indicated. He was going to be perfectly fine at the library with his sandwiches, thanks!

He'll bustle in after him, waiting for the soldier to enter themselves before removing his nose from his collar and giving them a particularly spicy glower. "I'm only coming in because it's cold and I like Aziraphale a lot! What if the Librarian starts to worry about me, huh?"

He's only complaining to have something to complain about, to be honest. He appreciates the warmth, he appreciates the offer of food, and he appreciates the idea of being around people? He visits Hana every day, and the Librarian is a bro, but Sora craves human contact, and trying to stay out of the way been getting lonely. He could use company and he knows it.

He stamps his way in, somewhat for effect but also to get the snow off his shoes, but slows his roll to take in the interior of the cabin. This is actually the first of the cabins he's been in! Hana lives in the cabin near the bonfire, but that was a Beaconite creation - these have always been here. He rubs his face with his hands and takes in the room. What's up? Who's home?

Aziraphale is home at the time, currently curled up on the couch reading a book by lanternlight, swaddled in no less than three blankets, looking quite like a snowball blown up and brought inside.

He looks up from his book and his face lights up. "Ah, Soldat'. You've brought company. Sora, hello!" he exclaims, getting up from underneath his blankets. "Oh, do make yourself at home, let me go put on a pot of tea. Crowley, we have a guest!" he calls off in the direction of wherever Crowley is at the moment.

"You two must be freezing, please. We'll get you warmed up in no time, Sora, you stay as long as you want."

"Uh huh," the Soldier tells Sora, looking unimpressed. Or maybe the unimpressed look is for the scarf they can finally rip off their face and toss over the back of the nearest piece of furniture with a relieved shudder. The coat goes on an actual coatrack just inside with less fanfare.

"I was going to make dinner," they add to Aziraphale, ducking their head a little. Sora might notice that a lot of the confidence goes out of their voice and posture when speaking to Aziraphale. Not in fear, not exactly, but in a kind of deference. "He's staying at the damn library, no real kitchen there."

"Hi Aziraphale!" Sora's voice may be a bit muffled as he immediately starts peeling layers off, shaking them out at the door and putting them on a hook at the door. He doesn't want to monopolize all of the coat space, but he is wearing five layers to protect himself from the outdoors, and if he doesn't get at least three of them off, he will overheat, and then the soldier will have a very different problem on their hands.

"Thanks," Sora says, and he really, really means it. At this point in life, he's not sure why pleasantries like "stay as long as you want" mean so much to him, but he'll take it. "I mean, I'll be out of your hair as soon as I can," he says, aiming kind of a glare with no actual bite to it at the soldier's back. He's not some pitiful vagabond! "But, uh, I appreciate it. Thanks for having me." And he'll kick off his snowboots and bounce his way inside, clearly excited to be at a friends' place. It's so warm here!

"These houses are really nice! How long have you guys been living here?"

Two brief knocks. Fondness for the current weather, bitterly windy or not, saps the excess energy that would otherwise go toward the peppier shave-and-a-haircut. Whomever reaches the door first will be greeted the same; hardly any at all, as she's staring somewhere off-porch. At the multi-colored light from her lantern, or something she thinks she hears. Just as likely she just really fucking loves this snow.

If she's displeased to be wearing what is obviously a fall-oriented coat, she doesn't show it. Should probably hustle in, though.

"Hey." Warm but distant, still not fully focused. World's greatest guest, here.

"Misty. Aren't you cold." Because that coat is so not good enough for a blizzard, holy shit. The Soldier steps back to let her in, looking vaguely alarmed at her complete lack of proper winter wear. They, for once, have only one extra layer on and have their sleeves rolled up to the elbow, displaying more of the metal arm and bare skin on the flesh arm than is their wont. (They're cooking, and with extra people and the torch in the house, it's warmer than it usually is.)

"A little." Blase. She takes her time glancing back, and the sight of him is a shot in the arm. With marginally more pep she smiles, steps carefully in after him. "From Louisiana, a little real cold is kind of a nice shock to the system." First snowstorm, can't even see it. If that isn't her luck.

"It smells great, what are you making-?" The cooking hierarchy of this house has made itself quite clear, she feels correct to assume he's the one to ask.

"Pasta and cream sauce and vegetables. Hot meal for a lot of people." Because there's several people here. They pause, looking a little worried. "Should be enough. I hope." They'll just eat a normal-human sized portion themselves, it'll be fine. They offer their hands to take her coat for her.

Her pathetic non-winter-ready coat. They've gotta fix that for her. "The Link person is still here," they explain, for the "lot of people" comment. "And one of the new kids. Brought him over since he's staying in the library." New kid who still hasn't given them a name, which is fine, but does make it tricky to introduce him to new people.

That does remind them, though. Once the coat is hung up, they make a little smile and hold up the flesh hand, in a fist, knuckles facing Misty. "He taught me a thing. You touch knuckles. It's a fist-bump." Look, Misty. It's okay touch. Please think it's as cool as they do.

Immediately presuming a smaller portion for herself as well, Misty waves it off. "It'll be fine." Having a coat taken feels like an odd luxury, but not an unexpected move on his part, so she relents silently. They really collect in this house, don't they? "You make rounds when I'm not looking, feels like. Can't blink without new faces cropping up."

She'll remain politely disinclined to meet them, but it's good he's thoroughly socialized. Better late than never.

Fist bumps existed well within her time, though she can't say she'd ever performed one. It's a damn wholesome expression on his face however. There wouldn't be any denying it even if he were asking permission to actually strike her. Out goes the fist, one respectable bump. Physically impossible not to smile. "I'm glad you're taking to it, then--" She murmurs, through a good natured laugh. Not a hug, but better than nothing.

From the kitchen comes a disembodied, mostly teen and something of a twenty-year old yell. "Hey! The pot's boiling! Hey, do I add the pasta? How long?" A beat. "I have the pasta in my hand, I'm literally going to hover it right here until you get back, c'mon, I'm hungry-"

This will be Misty's first impression of Sora, the teen equivalent of a dog and introducer of soldiers to fistbumps, who is indeed in the kitchen, hovering his hand over the pot with a box full of dried pasta. How momentous.

They actually grin at her when she humors them. It's better than nothing, really, they're trying here.

Then the moment is interrupted by loud child. The Soldier sigh a little, but there's clear affection in it, too. "That's him. Come on, I'll introduce you."

And rather than shout across the little cabin, they head back over to where the spiky-haired kid is hovering. "You have to stir the pasta in. You can't just dump the whole box at once." And they hold out a hand for the box. Let them do it, they'll show you how. "Kid, this is Misty. She's my favorite handler." Look, he doesn't always introduce her like that, he's not dumb, but he already did tell Sora about the handler thing, so it's safe to be clear and open here.

They get more eloquent and softer spoken by the day, she thinks.

Bemusement requires a level of detachment she can't maintain, however, at that introduction. There is undoubtedly a visible shift in posture. Taller, shoulders out, slight incline of chin. That's right. Favorite handler. It's terribly validating to the extent she can't even be frustrated at an inability to respond in the same terms. He still doesn't feel like an Asset. "He's my favorite Soldat," she settles on, and is bolstered enough to throw a hand out to shake. Salutations, spiky dog boy.

"Pleased to meet you."

Sora makes a face at the soldier as they take responsibility for the box away from him, but he'll step back and let them at the helm. "If it tastes the same at the end, why does it matter when it all goes in?" It's a token grumble, though; Sora will watch not at all subtly from the corner of his eye as the soldier does their thing, taking mental notes. If he remembers how to do it, and if they manage to survive this all, that means Skyler can cook pasta properly for Ari when they get home. That's important!

This is Misty, huh? He doesn't miss that "favorite" title - for the soldier to use qualifiers like that, she has to be special. For her to straighten up proudly at that? She probably feels the same. He likes her already!

He'll wipe his slightly steamed up hands to take her hand with a firm grip, full of enthusiasm. Shake, boy! "Hi, Misty! I've heard a lot about you. They like talking about you a lot."

Then a frown spreads on his face... and then a determined expression. He says, loud enough for the soldier to hear over the boiling water, "You can... call me Sora." Sora looks askance at the soldier's back, still at the pot. "Or Kid, like they do! I like kid." He's still not 100% certain on his name, and he's definitely not 110% certain about naming himself, but the soldier does have a point. Having a name is easier for most folks to get their heads around.

Misty is special and should feel special. End of story, in their mind.

"Names are hard," the Soldier agrees amiably, watching the interaction with a satisfied sort of expression, before fetching the wooden spoon to stir the pasta in, slowly and making sure nothing gets stuck to the bottom and everything is floating freely. Ironically, bowtie pasta does not bother them the way actual bowties to, and they go well with cream sauce. Lots of protein for combating the cold. "I let him decide. And it's not about taste, kid, it's about texture. Stirring it in gradually means. It's a more even texture when it's done cooking."

Learned that from Misty, right there.

In her defense, Soldat is the easiest person to like. Look at him.

Steamy hand is not an ideal sensation, but the gesture being returned at all is something of a pleasant surprise these days, so it gets a pass. There's an incline of eyebrows, a near-shyness intended to get across the 'is that so' that saying aloud would call too much attention to.

"Sora's fine. Unique! I don't think I'm gruff enough for 'kid' to roll off the tongue as well anyway. I'll thank you for the fist bumping now, any new way to congratulate him the better." A nod to Soldat. "Chef in the making. How long have you been around?"

Sora is in total agreement. Once you get past that soldier brand straight back manly toughness, it's all heart from there. Sora's a fan, to be honest.

Sora will... wiggle his eyebrows in response to that "is that so". Yes, that is so. This boy knows how to trade secrets behind certain people's backs. He is very up to date in the latest sneaky body language.

He'll release her hand to scratch the back of his head, bashful. "I didn't think they'd go as hard for it as they did? I'm glad, though. The Librarian and the Postmaster do it too now, if you're interested in trying to make it trend," he adds, directing that more to the soldier than to Misty. For practice, you know?"

(They do, too. Sora is a very enthusiastic and persistent greeter.)

"I've only been here since New Years. It kind of feels like time's been going really fast since then? What about you, Misty?"

"You're teaching spirits to fist-bump, too. Why am I not surprised." They sound amused, though, even while their eyes are on the pasta. Sora's a good kid. "Want to go stir my sauce for me, one of you?"

Because there's room in the kitchen for all of them. It's a nice kitchen. And the cream sauce definitely needs stirring. They can keep talking while they work.

Misty will opt for sauce-stirring; already feeling mildly guilty for not bringing a dish, this is the least she can do. Easy enough to position herself at an angle, eye contact ready for the pair of them.

"Been around since...August, I want to say? Same crop as Soldat. Overshot my birthday, so it's got to be August. It's gonna go by faster than you expect, even when it's boring." Both reassurance and warning.

"They like it. I think they want to be friends! It's just hard for them to ask because they can't talk." Sora's going to wander off and poke around the kitchen. Ostensibly, he's looking for bowls and forks to serve the food in, but realistically, he just wants to snoop.

"You guys have been here with each other since the beginning, huh..." That's really good. It's been more than a few months together by now. They must be close. "You woulda been here during my birthday, I think. You a Leo? Earlier?" Sort of an offhanded question. He doesn't take zodiac stuff seriously, but it does help him remember birthdays.

Birthdays. Are those important? The Soldier tilts their head that way to listen, only adding in, "Our beginning. Met Misty on my second day. Think I gave her a bit of a scare, at first. But others have been here a couple of months longer."

"Spooked the hell out of me. You're never really ready for someone this big to just beeline for you - didn't used to have that big welcoming smile at the ready, Sora." Partially a joke, but not. Not the most emotive guy on the planet, but leagues better - and he was, at the start, not the type you'd imagine traipsing your way for something helpful.

"Cancer! July thirteenth, mark your calendars."

"Day two... What'd they do, try to sack you like it was the last ten seconds of the fourth quarter?" This idea doesn't seem all that real to Sora, but it seems like a distinct possibility! He's also not sure if either of them were into football, but the metaphor's the only way he knows how to convey the exact feeling he has in his head of how that could have gone without getting giant keys and anthropomorphic animals into the mix.

"Anyway, they got a pretty good smile. They should use it more often." Sora will raise an eyebrow, twisting back with two bowls in hand. "July thirteenth, huh? You better do something big, I love a party."

Oh come on, guys. The Soldier ducks their head, looking embarrassed. But the smile is there, too, anyway. Why do they have such nice friends. Seriously.

Now they have to ask, though, if just to get the subject off of them. "Are birthdays important? Supposed to have parties?"

There he goes! Look at that! Not reflecting it right back is indicative of lacking a soul!

Though not a sport person per se, she understands the gist enough. "No, no, but when you're new and disoriented and trying to keep your head down, big quiet muscle guy with a lot of knives walking right up ain't a comfort." Oh, to be so naive again. How fantastically that's turned out, all said and done.

"Important to some people, less so other people," she answers, bowing her head to Soldat. "I've never had a party and I don't think I'll be starting now. Gloomy place for it, and all. I'll settle for a nice dinner."

That's some Terminator vibes right there. Must have been really scary! Sora will laugh when he notices the soldier ducking away. They may be sneaky, but they're not that slick.

Sora will put the bowls down on the counter and start working his way around the kitchen, looking for the silverware drawer. "Aw, man! That's two people now that I've asked who don't wanna celebrate their birthdays. I'm gonna have to make my birthday just like - bam! - to make up for everyone else." He shakes his head. Sora gets it, they're all dead, but he doesn't see what being dead has to do with not having fun! Maybe it's just a hangup from back when they were alive, though.

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