The Pen is Mightier! (penismightier) wrote in chaotic_library, @ 2014-10-30 22:01:00 |
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Current mood: | accomplished |
Current music: | 30 Seconds to Mars - Savior |
Entry tags: | bucky barnes, maria hill, marvel, multi-parter, natasha romanov, novel, r-rated, sharon carter, steve rogers, tony stark, yuuo, yuuo: marvel |
[Bucky Barnes, Cast; R] In Derelict Sidings The Poppies Entwine: Chapter 1
Character/Series: Bucky Barnes, Cast; Marvel Cinematic Universe
Rating: R
Notes: So I'm finally doing it. It's only taken me way too long. Bucky finally loses his anonymity. He's lucky it's lasted this long.
Title: In Derelict Sidings The Poppies Entwine: Chapter 1
Author: yuuo
Word Count: 3445
Summary: Mid-November mornings were cold, enough to be biting on Bucky's face as he and Steve raced around the Mall at just past five in the morning.
Mid-November mornings were cold, enough to be biting on Bucky's face as he and Steve raced around the Mall at just past five in the morning. It wasn't as cold as December through February, but it was cold enough to make Bucky's eyes water as he went full speed, matching Steve's every step. They usually ended in a tie, although they'd both had their victories from time to time.
It wasn't any different from any other morning for them, until the text tone on their work phone went off. "Hold up, Bucky," Steve said, slowing to a stop.
Bucky was already stopping, practically skidding as he fought inertia. He walked back to Steve, putting his gloved hands over his nose to try to warm it while Steve checked the phone. "You stopped us for a text?"
"Who sends us texts on this phone if it isn't important?" Steve asked, studying the phone. "It's from Tony."
Curious, Bucky moved around to look over Steve's shoulder. So 'Bucky Barnes' is trending right now. Care to guess why? it read.
Bucky felt his face go numb, though not from cold, and he swallowed tightly, feeling bile in his stomach. "Guess someone took that right photo," he said quietly.
"Looks like it," Steve said. He started replying to Tony. "Let's make sure, though, before we panic." The right photo?
Bucky looked around, paranoid that there might already be press, looking for him. He didn't care to deal with that so early, if at all. And it wouldn't be hard to find them, they had the same route every morning. His mind was already racing to figure out what he'd do if someone stopped him. Ignoring them was the preferable option, but the more someone ignores the press, the more persistent the press gets. Which meant he'd eventually have to say something.
But even thinking about the truth coming out made his brain shut down and his ability to speak go out the window. Now he'd have to face that.
He looked over when the phone pinged. Good guess. If you're not home, you might want to get there before the press swarms it.
Steve sighed, and looked at Bucky. "I'd say 'race you home', but I think I'm more interested in racing the world home."
Bucky nodded. He gave Steve about five seconds to put the phone back in his pocket before he took off for home.
It was about a quarter to six by the time they got home. Or at least to the right street. They stopped and ducked behind a building when they saw people crowded outside of their apartment building, including a few news vans. "Just in time for 'Good Morning America,'" Steve said, tone hushed, peeking around the corner at the crowd.
Bucky sighed, thunking his head back against the brick he was leaning against. "It's too damn early for this," he said, just as quiet as Steve was. "They move fast."
"Annoyingly so," Steve agreed.
Bucky stepped away from the wall, looking around for an escape. "There's a fire escape ladder over here," he said. "We can go up and get from this roof to that one over there, then across the street to ours. They might not notice people jumping buildings over their heads."
"Hopefully," Steve said, studying the fire escape Bucky pointed out. "And if they do, they still can't get up to our window or into the building." He glanced back around the corner, then turned back into the alley and walked over to the fire escape. He went up first; he'd only recently resigned himself to the fact that Bucky would always make Steve go first, although he'd bitched about it.
Bucky followed him up to the first level of stairs, taking care with each step to minimize the noise he made on the rusted metal steps. Six stories to the top. A jump to the building immediately to the south. Steve went first, followed by Bucky. They stopped on that roof, turning west and looking over the edge of the roof at the crowd below.
"They seem to still be focused on the ground," Steve said quietly. He looked over at the roof of their building. "This is a longer jump."
"We've made longer," Bucky said, mentally counting the distance between the two buildings. "Easily."
Steve backed up, and Bucky moved to the side to give him room. Bucky kept one eye on the reporters, and the other on Steve as he took a running leap across the street, onto their own roof. Once Steve had landed, Bucky looked down over the crowd. None of them had reacted, which meant none of them were looking up. Good.
Bucky walked to the far end of the building, giving himself room for a running start, then sprinted for the edge of the building. He pushed off against the concrete, every muscle in his legs tensing and releasing as he sailed over the street below.
He hit the roof hard, drawing himself up into a roll, easing the force of the impact, and then up on his feet. He felt like he'd scraped his knees a bit, but without looking, it was hard to tell. He wasn't exactly dressed for rooftop jumping. "Anyone notice?" he asked Steve, walking over to the edge where Steve was keeping watch.
"No," Steve said. He glanced over at Bucky. "We're going to have to break the lock on our window."
"It's fixable," Bucky said, dismissing the concern. "Better than getting mobbed trying to get in the front door."
Steve started down the fire escape, each footstep soft against the metal. "Can't argue that," he said, keeping an eye on the crowd.
Bucky followed him, being just as careful to not make enough noise to draw the attention of the news reporters below. He stood quietly while Steve yanked up the window, snapping the lock in the process. He worried that the noise might alert people to their presence, but the people below seemed to be loud enough amongst each other that they didn't notice. He slipped into the apartment after Steve.
Once inside, he closed the window, feeling his body want to shake from the adrenaline crash that inevitably followed finding safety after a stressful situation. He concentrated on quieting his nerves.
"I'm checking the news," Steve said, shedding his gloves and ear muffs onto the couch.
"You're a slob," Bucky said, picking up after Steve, and taking his winter items to the coat closet.
While Bucky put those and his own scarf and gloves away, Steve sat down at the table. "I have more important things on my mind," he said.
Bucky reluctantly joined Steve at the table, watching Steve boot up his laptop. He looked down at his tablet, hesitant to actually face the news. He glanced towards the window, in the general direction of the ruckus outside, then sighed and turned on his tablet. Might as well face the music.
Bucky's tablet was a bit faster than Steve's laptop; the laptop was a few years old at that point, and the tablet had been designed by Tony, so it had a few advantages. Scrolling through the news sites pointed to one major story: Bucky Barnes was back from the dead, seen frequently in the company of Steve Rogers.
There went peace and quiet.
He clicked on a video and pulled up the 3D imaging to display the video for Steve to watch. Steve leaned around his laptop a bit. A woman with cropped blonde hair and a microphone stood just outside their apartment building, surrounded by other reporters looking into their own news cameras, or holding digital recorders, or otherwise being annoying reporters in general.
"-where it is thought that James 'Bucky' Barnes, Captain America's childhood friend, is reported to have been living the last two years in secrecy. No word yet on how he might be alive after so long, and neither Mister Barnes or Captain Rogers have appeared to offer a comment. The news broke about an hour ago, starting with a picture taken by an internet user going by the name 'CapWinterFan13' that got posted on a picture-sharing service called Imgur. The image is one of Captain America's so-far anonymous partner, known only as 'the Winter Soldier' that appears to have been taken candidly. It was Photoshopped side by side with a known picture of Barnes. Other such images began to surface within about ten minutes of the original picture, all of them different, all of them comparing the images of the Winter Soldier to old pictures of Barnes."
Bucky turned off the video. "Well, that's disgusting," he grumbled.
"We knew it'd happen eventually," Steve pointed out. He glanced back towards the window. "Care to deal with them?"
"Not really," Bucky said. He studied his tablet, debating about looking up the pictures of him that the news reporter was talking about. He had a feeling some of them were probably none too flattering, but that wasn't even what was stopping him. "Screw this, I'm not dealing with this without a shower and breakfast." He got up. "I'll let you cook while I clean up."
Steve flashed him an annoyed look. "You're going to let me cook? How generous of you."
"I'm the giving kind," Bucky said.
"How about we go out for breakfast?" Steve suggested.
Bucky paused, halfway to the hallway. He looked back at Steve. "Why?"
"Because you can't dodge them forever," Steve said, motioning towards the window. "I've dealt with the press, they're going to get worse if we don't at least give them a bone to chew on for awhile. We'll shower, go out, give them an appearance, and get it over with."
"You act like that's all it'll take to get it over with," Bucky said. "Somehow, I doubt that."
Steve shrugged. "No, it's not, but it might get people to ease off a bit today."
"I'll think about it," Bucky said, turning back towards the back of the apartment.
It was sorely tempting to remain in the shower longer than strictly necessary, letting the hot water work out the knot in his right shoulder and the back of his neck that stress was actively tying. But Steve would want to shower, and Bucky wasn't the sort of asshole to use up all the hot water and leave nothing but cold water for his roommate.
Bucky grabbed his comb after wrapping a towel around his waist, heading out towards the bedroom to get dressed. "Shower's free," he called to Steve.
"Thanks!" Steve's voice replied, just as Bucky disappeared into the bedroom to dress.
He was still combing the snarls out of his hair when he heard the water shut off from Steve's shower. Whenever Bucky showered, he became sorely tempted to cut his hair back to its original length; long hair took way too much damn shampoo to clean, and it tangled after being towel dried. He flat-out refused to use a hair dryer, not after spending years waiting on his sister to finish in the bathroom because she was drying her ungodly long hair. Hair dryers now made him break out into hives.
But, he also knew he'd probably look strange with his uniform and short hair. It was a weird holdover from the years as Hydra's assassin, but it was one he actually didn't mind having. It was harmless, just sometimes frustrating.
"Why don't you do that in the bathroom, where you have a mirror?" Steve asked, walking back into the room, dressed for the day.
"Would you rather I take more time in the bathroom?" he asked. "You'd never get to shower if I did."
Steve sat down at the table, studying him. "Okay, thank you for that, but how can you tell what it looks like?"
Bucky frowned, working out a particularly stubborn tangle. "I double check when I put the comb away," he said. "It's not like I choose a complicated style or anything." He gave Steve a sideways look. "I'm not the one that puts gunk in my hair."
Steve made a face, glancing upwards, even though he'd never be able to actually see his hair that way. "Keeps it from falling flat," he said. "I've gotten more compliments from women with this style than what I had before." He rested his chin on his fist, watching Bucky. "You'd probably get more female attention if you cut your hair, you know."
"There are women who like longer hair on guys," Bucky protested, finishing with his hair and eyeing his comb. It was full of tangled hair. "My hair is falling out. I'm not old enough to be going bald yet."
Steve laughed, like a complete asshole. "Bucky, you're almost a hundred."
"Shut your mouth," Bucky said, standing up. "You're not any younger than me. At this age, one year doesn't count anymore."
"I hold stubbornly onto that year, the older we get," Steve said.
"You're a jackass," Bucky said. "Did you still want to brave the storm outside?"
Steve looked back over his shoulder at the window. "We should probably check if they're still out there. I wouldn't doubt it, but it's been a half hour since we got home, and they were there for who knows how long before that."
"You do that," Bucky said. "I'm going to go put this away and see how long I can put off going out."
"Seriously, Bucky, relax," Steve said, getting up and heading for the window. "Nobody that knows the truth is going to talk without your permission, so nobody's going to find out. You don't remember, simple as that."
Bucky made an unhappy noise that didn't entirely agree with Steve, but didn't entirely disagree, either. "Just check to see if the coast is clear," he said, disappearing down the hallway.
"They're still out there," Steve called back.
Goddamnit. Bucky tossed the hair stuck to his comb into the trash, and put the comb away in its drawer under the sink. "Fine," he said, joining Steve in the living room. "Let's just go and face the press. I have no intention of saying a word to them, though. They can take all the footage they want, I'm not giving them any comment."
"That's fine," Steve said. He was at the coat closet by the front door, pulling on his coat. He grabbed Bucky's old Army coat layered over a zip-up hoodie and tossed it to him. "I can talk, if you want."
"Do we have to talk at all?" Bucky asked as he shrugged on his coat. He had to pay attention to what he was doing to button the outer coat up; the lack of sensation in his left fingers made it hard to do that blind.
Steve gave him a tired look. "Once again, I must point out that this was inevitable. We're lucky it's taken them this long."
Bucky made a vaguely conceding face, but said nothing. Just because Steve was right, didn't mean Bucky had to like it. He knew it was probably irrational, but he couldn't shake the fear that somehow, the public would know. They'd know what he did. Who he worked for. What was done to him. It wasn't something he was ready for, if ever.
It was stupid; soldiers were POWs all the time, the tortures they went through were known more often than they'd probably like, and all it ever did was outrage the public on their behalf. That didn't stop the feeling of shame. He was supposed to be stronger than that, he was a soldier, held to a higher standard than civilians. He was a Howling Commando. He was supposed to be stronger. He wasn't supposed to break. Soldiers weren't supposed to become monsters. They protected the innocent victims from what war and enemies and monsters tried to do to them.
Maybe once upon a time, he was one of those innocent victims. But he couldn't see it that way. With the thought of the public finding out about Hydra, he could only see what they'd turned him into. He couldn't see Bucky Barnes, he could only see the Winter Soldier. The ghost assassin.
He felt safer being a ghost.
"Bucky?"
Bucky jerked back as Steve's hand passed in front of his field of vision, his mechanical hand already raised to block any incoming attacks. He took a breath, letting his arm drop. "Sorry."
Steve looked concerned. "You okay? You went unresponsive for a minute there."
Bucky shrugged, wrapping his scarf around his face to hide the burn of embarrassment. "I'm fine. Let's just get this over with."
After giving him a considering look for the longest three seconds in history, Steve pulled on his ear muffs. "Whatever you say, Buck."
Bucky concentrated on keeping his feet moving, leading Steve down the stairs. Up, behind him, better to have to wait through an asthma attack than get two stories up and realize Steve was no longer with him. Down, in front of him, in case Steve fell, knocked over by an asthma attack, or his distinct way of walking due to the scoliosis made him trip, Bucky could catch him.
Bucky was probably never going to get rid of those habits, no matter how batty they drove Steve.
They paused down on the sixth floor when the work phone went off again in Steve's pocket. Steve made a rude noise, grabbing the phone. His eyebrows shot up when he looked at the caller ID. "Were we expecting a call from the president?"
"Just answer it," Bucky said. "Might be a job." Not that he was counting on that, it probably had something to do with the news.
Steve didn't argue, putting the phone to his ear. "Hello, Mister President. No, you didn't interrupt anything. Is this about a job?" Steve frowned, glancing at Bucky briefly. "Yes, we can be there in about thirty minutes."
Bucky's shoulders slumped. "So not only does he want to interrogate us about this, he couldn't call ten minutes ago before we got ready to go and halfway down the stairs," he said after Steve had hung up.
"You should be used to our luck being like that," Steve said, turning around to head back upstairs.
Bucky focused on being annoyed by the inconvenience as they went back to the apartment, unwrapped from their winter gear, and went to the bedroom to change into their uniforms. It kept him from wanting to upend his lack of breakfast with nerves.
Normally, they'd go down to the garage to get the bike together, but Bucky decided to face the press, just enough to get them to back off a bit. Steve gave him a dirty look when Bucky told him what he was going to do, but they both knew that Bucky was going to win that fight, so Steve went down to get the bike himself without further argument.
Bucky counted off two extra minutes for Steve to get around front, before grabbing his weapons, holstering his derringer, and the Intratec. His combat knives were put in their places, then he grabbed his Skorpion. He didn't holster that just yet, nor did he load the magazine, carrying it separate.
He hurried down the stairs, to the second floor, then slowed his walk, knowing that he was at least partially visible through the glass front door. To no surprise on his part, the reporters were crowding around the door, watching him with microphones already held out to get a comment.
He pushed against the glass door, forcing some reporters to move to give the door room to open. Just as people began to crowd in on him, he held up the Skorpion, making a very firm point of loading the magazine, inspecting it for a moment, then holstering it on his back. That seemed to part the Red Sea some.
He'd feel bad about being an asshole, but since the press never felt sorry for acting that way, he couldn't build up a lot of guilt on his part for scaring the shit out of them.
Right on time, Steve pulled around the corner, weaving past news vans and stopping in front of Bucky, who had a very nervous group of reporters behind him. Bucky hopped onto the bike behind Steve, glancing over at the reporters that had regained some of their confidence now that Captain America was there to keep things calm.
"Sorry, folks," Steve told them. "Duty calls." He revved the bike, then they took off through the city, leaving the crowd behind them.