Nothing feels real. Steve is teetering and then, just as quickly, he's on his stool trying to find his glass for another drink. He likes how the world fades with each swallow. Likes how everything seems to be a dream because dreams are something you can wake up from. Maybe, just maybe, he can wake up from all of this. Or he can at least try, he figures. Until he hears that voice.
His head turns and he sees...another memory. It has to be. Because there, next to him, is Bucky looking like he always has when Steve closes his eyes and thinks back to when things were simple. It's not so much the hair or the face but rather the expression that does it. That open, emotional look Bucky now doesn't have at all. Or didn't. Or...wouldn't. God, it's hard to think in this place. But no matter what, this isn't the Bucky he knows is here. So...that means...
"Oh. Good. 'm dreamin'." He finishes his drink and squints at the bartender like that will help his vision at all. "Do ya pay bartenders 'n dreams, Buck?"
He turns to his friend easily, now that he knows he isn't really there.
no subject
His head turns and he sees...another memory. It has to be. Because there, next to him, is Bucky looking like he always has when Steve closes his eyes and thinks back to when things were simple. It's not so much the hair or the face but rather the expression that does it. That open, emotional look Bucky now doesn't have at all. Or didn't. Or...wouldn't. God, it's hard to think in this place. But no matter what, this isn't the Bucky he knows is here. So...that means...
"Oh. Good. 'm dreamin'." He finishes his drink and squints at the bartender like that will help his vision at all. "Do ya pay bartenders 'n dreams, Buck?"
He turns to his friend easily, now that he knows he isn't really there.
"Wha' about tip?"