[ooc; might be a bit tl;dr, will go to normal tag length on next round. I was thinking Bucky’s coin got tainted by whatever HYDRA research particles were in the air and responds to Steve’s matching set found in the bar]
Bucky practically lives for the raids that end with a HYDRA facility razed off the earth. There’s nothing like putting a bullet in one of ‘em and knowing you’d made the world just slightly better than when it started.
Sometimes, Bucky feels, it’s the only thing that keeps him going that week. That kinda thing would get the docs thinking twice about putting him on the front lines if they knew, so Bucky knows better. Keeps a lid on it. And hell, he doesn’t even want to know how Steve would feel about it if he found out. So Bucky keeps keeps his head down, ‘yes-sir and no-sir’s as needed and just asks where you need him to point and shoot.
But HYDRA R&D? Those’re the worst, Bucky thinks, as he slips out as soon as he can from the debrief and before they get sent to the docs and nurses to get checked out. Bucky’s also a real pro at that too.
Every time you think you’ve seen it all, the twisted bastards over at HYDRA R&D find new ways to give a guy the willies. Bucky can still feeling the crackling rush over his body when he’d entered that last room to find the scientists sprawled out, frothing at the mouth, on the floor like walking through a lightning storm. As it turns out…out sometimes the garbage could take itself to the curb, but even now, Bucky can still see the jars filled with twisted forms, the strange, twisted devices and the chemical stench to the air that gets the hairs rising all over his body.
Bucky makes his way through the sprawl of streets, finally allowing himself to rub the grit smeared against his forehead and smooth his hair back into something kinda respectable as he makes his way to a bar that’s becoming a second home. He’s been there so much that the bartender already starts to get his poison ready when he sees Bucky’s shape through the front windows, so when Bucky slips into a near empty bar with a tight smile, there’s a tumblr of their strongest whiskey ready for him.
Bucky takes a swig just so he doesn’t think too hard on the nice, dangerous heat that twists in his belly when the slender blond smiles at him. The guy looks like Steve - his Steve, before the War got him - in a carnival mirror, and it’s close enough that Bucky feels plenty guilty here. It’s just hard not to do something stupid - something blue ticket worthy - after today. The pretty fella leaves him to it, and Bucky’s hunched over the bar as he tries to drink the world away.
On days like this, Bucky’s hand dips into his jacket to the penny nearly worn free of its face, thumb rubbing over it. It’s stupid, really, but Bucky had saved them when they were shiny and new, and given Steve a matching one. Something to remember when they made it big, you know? Remember where they came from? Bucky’d maybe be a teacher or an actor or something, and Steve’d be an artist big enough to knock ole’ Norman on his ass. It’s stupid; it’s from a world before this FUBARed mess, but Bucky finds himself coming back to it.
Bucky closes his eyes as he feels the familiar, faded ridges, even as this uneasiness sneaks into him and slowly, sneakily blossoms into an emptiness that the booze isn’t helping with. Somehow…somehow it’s gotta do with Steve, and his body knows before he does that Steve needs help. Needs him
He opens his eyes…and freezes. ‘Cause this is the same bar, except it’s not really; it’s dark here, and that pretty bartender isn’t there anymore. There’s a guy behind the bar built like a brick house, with hair that’s too long and a face cast in shadow, and when Bucky glances around, it’s to find the rest of the bar closed and looking too clean like it wasn’t nearly shelled a couple times.
“The hell?!” Bucky blurts out, hand drifting towards the knife hidden under his shirt, as he glances around.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2022-04-11 03:51 am (UTC)Bucky practically lives for the raids that end with a HYDRA facility razed off the earth. There’s nothing like putting a bullet in one of ‘em and knowing you’d made the world just slightly better than when it started.
Sometimes, Bucky feels, it’s the only thing that keeps him going that week. That kinda thing would get the docs thinking twice about putting him on the front lines if they knew, so Bucky knows better. Keeps a lid on it. And hell, he doesn’t even want to know how Steve would feel about it if he found out. So Bucky keeps keeps his head down, ‘yes-sir and no-sir’s as needed and just asks where you need him to point and shoot.
But HYDRA R&D? Those’re the worst, Bucky thinks, as he slips out as soon as he can from the debrief and before they get sent to the docs and nurses to get checked out. Bucky’s also a real pro at that too.
Every time you think you’ve seen it all, the twisted bastards over at HYDRA R&D find new ways to give a guy the willies. Bucky can still feeling the crackling rush over his body when he’d entered that last room to find the scientists sprawled out, frothing at the mouth, on the floor like walking through a lightning storm. As it turns out…out sometimes the garbage could take itself to the curb, but even now, Bucky can still see the jars filled with twisted forms, the strange, twisted devices and the chemical stench to the air that gets the hairs rising all over his body.
Bucky makes his way through the sprawl of streets, finally allowing himself to rub the grit smeared against his forehead and smooth his hair back into something kinda respectable as he makes his way to a bar that’s becoming a second home. He’s been there so much that the bartender already starts to get his poison ready when he sees Bucky’s shape through the front windows, so when Bucky slips into a near empty bar with a tight smile, there’s a tumblr of their strongest whiskey ready for him.
Bucky takes a swig just so he doesn’t think too hard on the nice, dangerous heat that twists in his belly when the slender blond smiles at him. The guy looks like Steve - his Steve, before the War got him - in a carnival mirror, and it’s close enough that Bucky feels plenty guilty here. It’s just hard not to do something stupid - something blue ticket worthy - after today. The pretty fella leaves him to it, and Bucky’s hunched over the bar as he tries to drink the world away.
On days like this, Bucky’s hand dips into his jacket to the penny nearly worn free of its face, thumb rubbing over it. It’s stupid, really, but Bucky had saved them when they were shiny and new, and given Steve a matching one. Something to remember when they made it big, you know? Remember where they came from? Bucky’d maybe be a teacher or an actor or something, and Steve’d be an artist big enough to knock ole’ Norman on his ass. It’s stupid; it’s from a world before this FUBARed mess, but Bucky finds himself coming back to it.
Bucky closes his eyes as he feels the familiar, faded ridges, even as this uneasiness sneaks into him and slowly, sneakily blossoms into an emptiness that the booze isn’t helping with. Somehow…somehow it’s gotta do with Steve, and his body knows before he does that Steve needs help. Needs him
He opens his eyes…and freezes. ‘Cause this is the same bar, except it’s not really; it’s dark here, and that pretty bartender isn’t there anymore. There’s a guy behind the bar built like a brick house, with hair that’s too long and a face cast in shadow, and when Bucky glances around, it’s to find the rest of the bar closed and looking too clean like it wasn’t nearly shelled a couple times.
“The hell?!” Bucky blurts out, hand drifting towards the knife hidden under his shirt, as he glances around.