The place is big; far more space than he or Steve ever had the greens for. It’s as if they took three or four of his shoebox apartment and jammed them together, and look, they even got two bathrooms! No doubling a bathtub as a table or having to share the john with the entire floor, this place is luxury even if it’s covered in dust. How the hell is no one here?
Maybe ‘cause no one can afford it these days either, Bucky thinks as he and Steve sweep the area. it’s gotta cost a fortune. They settle into it like they never left, spreading out silently like a couple of wolves on the hunt as natural as breathing. So far it doesn’t look like anyone’s been here for weeks, but it’s when Bucky turns and catches Steve waving some sorta thin, narrow device that sometimes flares a red as brilliant as a miniature flare.
It’s enough to snag Bucky's attention - every now and then Bucky sneaks a glimpse as if trying to figure what the hell that thing is. So far, whatever Steve’s doing with that thing, he doesn’t find anything they gotta be worried about. Bucky pulls the curtains closed anyway; the tatters just starting to form at the edges drift lazily along the faint morning breeze that ruffles through them.
Bucky joins Steve, where he leans against the doorway and watches the broad span of Steve’s back as he stoops for the sink. Bucky’s so distracted - god, he doesn’t think he’ll get used to an actual beard on Steve, but it also looks…well, it looks good on him - that it takes him a beat to realize what Steve said. When he does, Bucky stiffens.
“You…” Bucky trails off, because he didn’t want to admit to himself that maybe something more than getting roughed up had happened back at that factory. That maybe all those times out in the field weren’t just to adrenaline; it’s in those times Bucky didn’t quite feel the cold as quick as the other guys, or he could march longer than them, carrying more without stopping, or when he seemed to hone in on enemy so quickly it’s like his body knew he was there before his mind did. Where sometimes he could wear he can hear the thud of someone’s heart, or someone breathing even when he’s in his own sniper’s nest. Bucky’s voice sounds tight behind Steve. “You’ve known the entire time?”
If he did, when the hell was he gonna say something? (Bucky sure wasn’t ever gonna say it; it meant admitting something’s FUBARed with him if he even admitted it was (maybe) real)
Bucky follows Steve even after Steve tries to busy himself with the locks, like they weren’t already checked.
“You telling me you got guys worse than HYDRA after you or something? HYDRA wasn’t enough trouble?” Bucky lets himself sink down onto a couch starting to peel at the edges - and yet it’s far softer than anything back at camp. Might as well be a goddamn cloud. He eyes the cupboards hopefully “Hope so. Hell, I’d give my left arm for an actual cup of Joe.” But Steve’s also not quite off the hook, ‘cause Bucky adds. “So you knew something was off? That’s why you never said anything when I’d dodged the docs.”
no subject
Maybe ‘cause no one can afford it these days either, Bucky thinks as he and Steve sweep the area. it’s gotta cost a fortune. They settle into it like they never left, spreading out silently like a couple of wolves on the hunt as natural as breathing. So far it doesn’t look like anyone’s been here for weeks, but it’s when Bucky turns and catches Steve waving some sorta thin, narrow device that sometimes flares a red as brilliant as a miniature flare.
It’s enough to snag Bucky's attention - every now and then Bucky sneaks a glimpse as if trying to figure what the hell that thing is. So far, whatever Steve’s doing with that thing, he doesn’t find anything they gotta be worried about. Bucky pulls the curtains closed anyway; the tatters just starting to form at the edges drift lazily along the faint morning breeze that ruffles through them.
Bucky joins Steve, where he leans against the doorway and watches the broad span of Steve’s back as he stoops for the sink. Bucky’s so distracted - god, he doesn’t think he’ll get used to an actual beard on Steve, but it also looks…well, it looks good on him - that it takes him a beat to realize what Steve said. When he does, Bucky stiffens.
“You…” Bucky trails off, because he didn’t want to admit to himself that maybe something more than getting roughed up had happened back at that factory. That maybe all those times out in the field weren’t just to adrenaline; it’s in those times Bucky didn’t quite feel the cold as quick as the other guys, or he could march longer than them, carrying more without stopping, or when he seemed to hone in on enemy so quickly it’s like his body knew he was there before his mind did. Where sometimes he could wear he can hear the thud of someone’s heart, or someone breathing even when he’s in his own sniper’s nest. Bucky’s voice sounds tight behind Steve. “You’ve known the entire time?”
If he did, when the hell was he gonna say something? (Bucky sure wasn’t ever gonna say it; it meant admitting something’s FUBARed with him if he even admitted it was (maybe) real)
Bucky follows Steve even after Steve tries to busy himself with the locks, like they weren’t already checked.
“You telling me you got guys worse than HYDRA after you or something? HYDRA wasn’t enough trouble?” Bucky lets himself sink down onto a couch starting to peel at the edges - and yet it’s far softer than anything back at camp. Might as well be a goddamn cloud. He eyes the cupboards hopefully “Hope so. Hell, I’d give my left arm for an actual cup of Joe.” But Steve’s also not quite off the hook, ‘cause Bucky adds. “So you knew something was off? That’s why you never said anything when I’d dodged the docs.”