but i didn't count on this package deal
I was thinking about seeing Bourne Legacy (THE RENNER) this afternoon since I get out at 2:30, but I will probably just go home and take a nap. I have been getting good sleep but somehow it is not enough - my period has exhausted me this month. I can see it tomorrow since it's supposed to rain all day. Or maybe Sunday. *hands
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Through the mist, Steve can make out a huddled figure sitting on the ledge. He can feel Natasha behind him, so tense she's practically vibrating, and he motions her to stay hidden while he moves out onto the roof.
"Hey," he says, softly, the way he'd talk to anyone sitting on the ledge of a roof. "Hey, Bucky."
The figure half-turns, and Steve gets the impression of a tangle of long wet hair and skin that hasn't seen in the sun in a long time. "Hey." The voice is low and hoarse, but familiar, a voice he'd know anywhere. A voice he never thought he'd hear again. "How'd you know it was me?"
Steve has to clear his throat before he can answer. His voice is thick and just a little shaky when he says, "You're the only one I know who doesn't have the sense to come in out of the rain." He takes a couple of steps closer and stops, not sure what to do next.
"You're looking a little soggy yourself," Bucky answers. He swings himself around and Steve can see he's got his hands shoved into the pockets of his navy blue pea coat and there are dark smudges under his eyes. "We lived here once, right?"
"Yeah," Steve says, sitting down next to him. "Yeah, Bucky, we did."
"That's what I thought." He takes a cigarette out and sticks it in the corner of his mouth. "It's a trap, y'know. They sent me here to kill you." He pulls a lighter out of the same pocket and flicks it open, but doesn't bother with lighting the cigarette.
Steve swallows hard. "I know."
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This is Steve seizing the opportunity to take the lead, since he believes he knows what's going on better than Natasha does (and also because he wants to get to Bucky as soon as he can. I think it also shows how thrown Natasha is by how clearly she's broadcasting, because in this story, Steve doesn't really know her all that well, despite having worked together for a while.
"Hey," he says, softly, the way he'd talk to anyone sitting on the ledge of a roof. "Hey, Bucky."
I think Steve would be awesome at talking jumpers down. Or just hanging out until they were ready to talk. You know that page from Superman, where he just hangs out all day with the girl on the ledge? Like that.
The figure half-turns, and Steve gets the impression of a tangle of long wet hair and skin that hasn't seen in the sun in a long time.
This is my attempt to describe Bucky as he is seen in the comics - the long hair, the fishbelly white skin - he's been in stasis a long time and it shows.
"Hey." The voice is low and hoarse, but familiar, a voice he'd know anywhere. A voice he never thought he'd hear again. "How'd you know it was me?"
Steve has to clear his throat before he can answer. His voice is thick and just a little shaky when he says, "You're the only one I know who doesn't have the sense to come in out of the rain." He takes a couple of steps closer and stops, not sure what to do next.
"You're looking a little soggy yourself," Bucky answers.
I would say it's my normal tendency to revert to banter to defuse highly emotional situations, but since they DO IT IN CANON ("I thought you were dead" / "I thought you were smaller") I feel completely justified here.
He swings himself around and Steve can see he's got his hands shoved into the pockets of his navy blue pea coat and there are dark smudges under his eyes. "We lived here once, right?"
"Yeah," Steve says, sitting down next to him. "Yeah, Bucky, we did."
The coat is a reference to his old uniform. And this whole story is predicated on the thing in the comics where he did go off the reservation once in the '80s, and he went to New York when it happened, though in the comics he wasn't actually from Brooklyn; I always read it as him trying to find Steve even if he doesn't know that's what he's doing.
"That's what I thought." He takes a cigarette out and sticks it in the corner of his mouth. "It's a trap, y'know. They sent me here to kill you." He pulls a lighter out of the same pocket and flicks it open, but doesn't bother with lighting the cigarette.
Steve swallows hard. "I know."
I think he might smoke? But here it's just something to do with his hands. Hand. He doesn't use the metal hand yet, because he doesn't want Steve to see it.
And here he's still fighting the programming, assimilating two sets of memories - that issue of Winter Soldier where the guy gets broken out of stasis without the proper protocols kind of backed me up here - I alluded to it in "Welcome to Wherever You Are" that Lukin kind of half-assed things in terms of programming this time around - I feel like it's hubris on his part - but it allows me to not have him running off for a year like in the comics, and also that it's something he's choosing for himself rather than something Steve does to/for him.
Also, the recurrence of "it's a trap" - Natasha wasn't wrong, and Steve acknowledges that - though she wasn't right either.
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I always really like this in your stories.
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You've done this for long enough that I can differentiate between Nightwings (hint: hair) and yesterday got into a ten-minute conversation with our waiter after lunch about all of the upcoming Marvel movies.
Ten years ago I probably knew that Bruce Wayne was Batman for DC and ... that I didn't care about Spiderman in Marvel? I really was knowledge-lite in Marvel. I still don't much care for Spidey. But I have a lot of Bucky feels now. A lot of Bucky feels. I talked to a stranger about Bucky. That many feels.
Thank you.
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But I have a lot of Bucky feels now. A lot of Bucky feels. I talked to a stranger about Bucky. That many feels.
\o/
I hate to tell you, but going by Steve Rogers, who has the worst case of Bucky feels in existence, it seems to be an incurable condition.
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