Of Old Memories and Vague Sketches
Title: Of Old Memories and Vague Sketches
Fandom: The Avengers, Captain America (2011)
Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes
Rating: G
Word count: 516
Summary: Everything in this new world makes him think wait ‘til I tell Bucky and it’s breaking his heart.
Notes/Warnings: Written for comment_fic. Originally here.
Bucky's the first thing Steve thinks of when he wakes up. After he sees through the lie, bursts through the wall, and lands in a new, alien world full of loud noises and flashing lights.
You've been asleep, Cap, he hears. For almost seventy years.
He looks around, and the first thing that flashes through his mind is Bucky. Bucky would have loved this, he thinks, because he'd always been fascinated by technology; by the future and all the possibilities that it could bring. Funny, then, that it’s Steve standing here, when it should be Bucky. It’s so funny that Steve has to fight down the urge to laugh, because otherwise he thinks he’ll cry.
Because Bucky is dead; he died on that train, saving Steve, and apparently seventy years hasn’t dulled the pain any, because even thinking that makes him feel like he can’t breathe.
So when Steve is asked if he’s okay, he only says that he had a date. Because it is the truth, because it’s easier to understand, and because even if thinking about Peggy hurts too, it still hurts less than remembering Bucky.
-------------
Steve is adjusting to life in the 21st century. He actually likes it here, despite what anyone else might think. He likes the bright lights, and the way everything seems to be so vibrant here, but most of all he likes the fact that it never stops.
There’s always something to see or something to do and Steve can just keep going and going. Because if he stops doing, even for a second, he’ll start to think, and that’s the worst thing of all, because thinking leads to remembering. Remembering the Howling Commandos, the way that rag-tag bunch of misfits became a team - his team. Remembering Peggy’s smile, and Bucky’s laugh and BuckyBuckyBucky. Always Bucky.
Sometimes, when he catches a glimpse of brown hair and deep gray eyes, his the first thing he thinks of is Bucky. Steve sees Bucky in everything, it seems. In Clint’s mischievous smile, in the way Tony flirts, even in the way a cigarette hangs from a stranger’s mouth on the streets.
Bucky’s always there, and most times Steve doesn’t mind because he can practically hear Bucky’s voice in his head and it keeps him company, but at other times it just hurtsso much and Steve wants to beg it to stop. Because still, after all this time, his first thought when he sees something remarkable is ‘wait ‘till I tell Bucky’ and every damn time it hits him like a punch in the gut that Bucky is gone, and that he’s not coming back.
When that happens, whenever the memories becomes too much to bear, Steve draws. He sketches the curl of a smile, and a pair of eyes twinkling with laughter, a hand that holds him steady every time he almost falls. He draws those things, over and over again, separately. Bits and pieces, really, because he doesn’t want to forget, but he never draws Bucky, either, because he’s terrified that if he tries, he won’t be able to remember.
Fandom: The Avengers, Captain America (2011)
Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes
Rating: G
Word count: 516
Summary: Everything in this new world makes him think wait ‘til I tell Bucky and it’s breaking his heart.
Notes/Warnings: Written for comment_fic. Originally here.
Bucky's the first thing Steve thinks of when he wakes up. After he sees through the lie, bursts through the wall, and lands in a new, alien world full of loud noises and flashing lights.
You've been asleep, Cap, he hears. For almost seventy years.
He looks around, and the first thing that flashes through his mind is Bucky. Bucky would have loved this, he thinks, because he'd always been fascinated by technology; by the future and all the possibilities that it could bring. Funny, then, that it’s Steve standing here, when it should be Bucky. It’s so funny that Steve has to fight down the urge to laugh, because otherwise he thinks he’ll cry.
Because Bucky is dead; he died on that train, saving Steve, and apparently seventy years hasn’t dulled the pain any, because even thinking that makes him feel like he can’t breathe.
So when Steve is asked if he’s okay, he only says that he had a date. Because it is the truth, because it’s easier to understand, and because even if thinking about Peggy hurts too, it still hurts less than remembering Bucky.
-------------
Steve is adjusting to life in the 21st century. He actually likes it here, despite what anyone else might think. He likes the bright lights, and the way everything seems to be so vibrant here, but most of all he likes the fact that it never stops.
There’s always something to see or something to do and Steve can just keep going and going. Because if he stops doing, even for a second, he’ll start to think, and that’s the worst thing of all, because thinking leads to remembering. Remembering the Howling Commandos, the way that rag-tag bunch of misfits became a team - his team. Remembering Peggy’s smile, and Bucky’s laugh and BuckyBuckyBucky. Always Bucky.
Sometimes, when he catches a glimpse of brown hair and deep gray eyes, his the first thing he thinks of is Bucky. Steve sees Bucky in everything, it seems. In Clint’s mischievous smile, in the way Tony flirts, even in the way a cigarette hangs from a stranger’s mouth on the streets.
Bucky’s always there, and most times Steve doesn’t mind because he can practically hear Bucky’s voice in his head and it keeps him company, but at other times it just hurtsso much and Steve wants to beg it to stop. Because still, after all this time, his first thought when he sees something remarkable is ‘wait ‘till I tell Bucky’ and every damn time it hits him like a punch in the gut that Bucky is gone, and that he’s not coming back.
When that happens, whenever the memories becomes too much to bear, Steve draws. He sketches the curl of a smile, and a pair of eyes twinkling with laughter, a hand that holds him steady every time he almost falls. He draws those things, over and over again, separately. Bits and pieces, really, because he doesn’t want to forget, but he never draws Bucky, either, because he’s terrified that if he tries, he won’t be able to remember.