James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes (
nerves_of_ice) wrote2022-05-19 10:31 pm
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[WWII AU] a brand new day
Bucky wakes in the predawn darkness, long before reveille would normally be called. He spends a few minutes reviewing the mission in his head before he rolls from his cot; there's no room to think about anything else. He meets Steve and the rest of the Howling Commandos at five-fifteen. As planned, they're on the move before the hour has passed.
It's a long day, a hard day, but in the end a successful day, for the most part. The hidden facility carved into the hillside is no more when they leave, HYDRA's agents defeated, their stockpiles destroyed. But there's still no sign of Schmidt, nor of Zola, and that remains incredibly frustrating.
Still, there's reason to celebrate today's win, and the squad's more or less exuberant on their return, some fourteen or so hours later. Steve disappears into the command tent to debrief with Colonel Phillips; Bucky'll catch up with him afterward, as usual. He spends a few minutes trading quips with the others before disappearing to weapons storage to see to his own rifle - also as usual. Something about taking care of it helps him feel like he's cleaning the blood off his own hands.
After that, he finds he's too restless to settle yet, and figures it's not the best idea for him to be around others until he sorts himself out. Bucky wanders along the edge of camp in the dark, then veers from the path and off into the field where he'd spent some time watching the stars only a couple of days ago.
It should be peaceful there, more or less.
It's a long day, a hard day, but in the end a successful day, for the most part. The hidden facility carved into the hillside is no more when they leave, HYDRA's agents defeated, their stockpiles destroyed. But there's still no sign of Schmidt, nor of Zola, and that remains incredibly frustrating.
Still, there's reason to celebrate today's win, and the squad's more or less exuberant on their return, some fourteen or so hours later. Steve disappears into the command tent to debrief with Colonel Phillips; Bucky'll catch up with him afterward, as usual. He spends a few minutes trading quips with the others before disappearing to weapons storage to see to his own rifle - also as usual. Something about taking care of it helps him feel like he's cleaning the blood off his own hands.
After that, he finds he's too restless to settle yet, and figures it's not the best idea for him to be around others until he sorts himself out. Bucky wanders along the edge of camp in the dark, then veers from the path and off into the field where he'd spent some time watching the stars only a couple of days ago.
It should be peaceful there, more or less.
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One more, before she needs to put her feet back on the ground again.
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Since it's the last time he's got to make it good, he figures. He spins them both around as he turns, slow, slow, quick-quick slow, in a modified foxtrot for the forest path.
Bucky manages to keep her aloft through three repetitions, then settles her back down to the ground at the end of it, smiling down at her with pleased mischief at his choice apparent, keeping his hands on her waist to steady her and make sure she's not dizzy.
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"If you wanted another dance," she points out, "you could have just asked."
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Her hands are still at his shoulders, where they dropped when he lifted her again. "Whenever you want."
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It's too bad she'd left her phone, powered down, in her quarters. He'd probably love hearing music come out of its tiny speakers. "Let's go."
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"It really isn't far," he promises.
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If this is a dream, she doesn't want to wake up yet.
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Bucky looks up at the sky, then back at her as he offers his other hand for her to take.
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After a second, she looks back at him, smiling. "What kind of dance were you thinking?"
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"Well, since we've already danced the foxtrot once... how about the rumba?"
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She steps closer and puts her free hand back on his shoulder, then looks up at him. "I guess the music will just have to be in our heads."
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It's not a song she knows, but the beat's familiar enough. She settles into the dance position and waits for him to lead them into the steps.
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Her eyes stay on his as she follows his lead, the slow-quick-quick of their steps beating through her blood.
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He can't look away, and in truth he doesn't even want to try.
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It's not hard, but her pulse is racing anyway, electricity skittering over her skin every time he brings her back to him and she looks back up into his face. She can't see the blue of his eyes in the dark, but it doesn't matter; it's the expression in them that sends a shiver into the pit of her stomach.
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She can't stop thinking about the lab, his skin against hers, his hand in hers. Her hand curves over his shoulder and she lets her thumb ghost over the material of his uniform as warmth pools in her chest.
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Slowly, Bucky brings them to a stop and just stands there with her, his gaze still fixed on hers, his breathing more rapid than it should be and his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.
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"Bucky," she whispers, utterly lost in the moment with him.
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