Who: Steve & Bucky What: Reunion When: 1/22/19, 1:00AM-ish Where: Ravenmoore Square Fountain, initially Status: Ongoing Warnings: Some language, Brace for FEELS and disgustingly mopey/schmoopy Steve. Heavy shipping, handle with care. (If you hate Stucky, don't even bother)
Steve read the screen of his smartphone for the tenth time on his way to the designated meeting point. A central, public area. Not ideal for an ambush, perhaps? What did he know about this place? For all he knew there were public executions in the town square every Thursday, or some craziness of the sort. He was torn between hope and disbelief, although his brain was racing with possibilities, good and bad.
He idly considered if super soldiers could have heart attacks, because his pulse had to be through the roof, and he had scared himself when he saw his reflection while passing a window a few blocks away. He looked tense, rigid and pale like a ghost, but his cheeks and ears were very red. He was riding this strange version of fight or flight all the way to his destination. He really wanted this to be Bucky. He needed it to be really him. Steve didn't think his heart could take much more of loss. But it was the uncertainty that was killing him tonight.
It wasn't hard to bring up a map of Ravenmoore Square on his device and, sure enough, there was a fountain smack in the middle of it. Steve cased out the area as he walked up to the fountain, noting points of exit and entry to the square itself, scanning above his line of sight for any possible sharpshooter action. The square was suitably deserted, for the most part. There were still a few couples and small groups in the better lit areas, a few shady characters in the shadows, but only one figure sitting at the fountain.
The figure was too thin to be Bucky, and whoever it was stood and moved away quickly when he saw Steve approaching. He must have cut quite a figure, an imposing physique with thunderheads on his brow and desperation in his eye. Steve didn't blame the hoodied figure for giving him wide berth. Wise hoodie man. Steve would have done the same if he wasn't looking for trouble.
Steve's sharp eyes examined the fountain and, finding nothing, turned his back on the water to face out. He gave one more sweep with his gaze before clenching his teeth and thumb typing another quick message. I'm here.