[WWII AU] a brand new day

[nerves_of_ice]

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.

Comments

[nerves_of_ice]

"Really," Lorraine says, over the top of her coffee cup. It's exceptionally full, Bucky notes absently. She's studying Sharon with a look that's hard to read, but her tone is bright and inquisitive.

"Do you socialize with them often?"

[from_the_outside]

"Not when I can avoid it," Sharon tells her, and Dugan laughs.

"Shouldn't be hard," he says, amused. "Stark's almost never out of the lab. You should be safe from him around the rest of the camp."

[nerves_of_ice]

"And when he is, he's usually trailed by his coterie of assistants," Falsworth drawls. Bucky grins at that. "There's an image."

[from_the_outside]

Sharon laughs at that. "Do they all have to dance together if he goes to the pub? Or maybe he has the assistants all dance with the same person so they can compare results."

[nerves_of_ice]

Dugan's laugh is more of a restrained roar. His eyes are crinkled up at the corners as he tries to hold back his mirth at the thought. "Stark wouldn't let anyone else horn in on a dance," he says, still grinning.

"That's probably true," Bucky agrees, and slants an amused look at Sharon. "Better watch yourself, Agent Carter, or he'll try to claim all your dances and leave none for the rest of us."

[from_the_outside]

"We'll cross that bridge when and if we ever come to it," she says, laughing. "We'll see if he ever even gets out of the lab."

"Still," Falsworth puts in, "just in case, save one for me, will you?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"And me," Dugan adds, quickly. "And heck, even the Sarge--"

Lorraine sets her coffee down abruptly and cries out in dismay as she catches the edge of the tray with it rather than the level surface, sending a wave of coffee all over Sharon and the table around her. "Oh no!"

[from_the_outside]

"Shit – "

She pushes back, but not quickly enough. The coffee splashes over her stomach and down across her lap. Not a drop has landed on Private Sellers, she notes as she looks back up, holding up a dripping hand.

"I'm so sorry," the woman apologizes, offering a napkin as Dugan and Falsworth search their pockets for handkerchiefs. "And all over such a lovely outfit. Poor thing, you should probably go and change."

Somehow, Sharon doesn't think she's imagining the falseness in the woman's sweet voice.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Clumsy of you, Private Sellers," Bucky observes, and the cool, crisp neutrality of his tone is clearer than any shout. "Agent Carter, please allow me to get you a fresh tray. I'll bring it to your quarters for you so that you still have time to eat before your meeting."

"Meeting?" Falsworth asks, passing over both his and Dugan's handkerchiefs to Sharon. Dum Dum's gives Bucky a thoughtful look as Bucky nods. "Agent Carter's meeting with Captain Rogers and Colonel Phillips later."

"Ohhh," Dugan breathes, and turns back to Sharon. "Then we'll see you this evening, I hope?"

[from_the_outside]

"Thank you, Sergeant."

Sharon stands, grimacing at the feel of cold coffee dripping down her legs. A hush has fallen over the mess tent, and every head is swiveled their way. Her lips press tight against the flush of anger that's coloring her cheeks, and she focuses on the voice of reason in her head, the one that sounds like Aunt Peggy. You can't shoot Private Sellers, Sharon, that would be overkill. "Gentlemen, I'll see you this evening. In the meantime, please excuse me."

Dugan silently offers her another napkin as she leaves; she walks out of the tent still blotting at the wet stain spreading over her shirt and pants.

[nerves_of_ice]

"It was an accident," Lorraine protests, as Bucky gets up and wipes the mess on the table down into Sharon's ruined tray, stacking it on top of his own barely-touched one. "I didn't mean for - surely you don't blame - "

"Of course. An accident. Excuse me, Private," Bucky says, still perfectly polite. "I'm afraid I don't have time to linger over lunch today after all, since I need to deal with this." He nods to Dugan and Falsworth. "See you later," he says, and heads for the mess return first and the line next.

[from_the_outside]

The glances she gets on her way through the camp this time are of a very different nature than the ones she got at first. Not that she cares, but it's annoying to be stared at and even more annoying to have found herself suddenly back in the middle of high school drama.

Private Sellers is not a fan of her getting closer to Bucky, that much is clear. But she think the other woman may have just shot herself in the foot with this stunt.

Back in her tent, she strips down and wipes herself off, hanging the ruined clothing over a camp stool to examine it. She'd be able to save it at home, with her washing machine and stain remover, but she has no idea what the laundry situation is like here. "Great," she mutters, and turns away to find something else to wear for the rest of the day.

[nerves_of_ice]

"I saw," Martin says, when Bucky comes up to the head of the line and asks for a covered tray. "I've got a little white vinegar. Should help keep her things from staining."

"I'll make sure Agent Carter knows it was your quick thinking," Bucky promises. "Thanks a bunch."

Martin meets him at the end of the line and adds a sealed jar of vinegar and a little piece of honeycomb on a plate to the tray Bucky picks up, then nods to him. Bucky nods back, and carries it off. He ducks through the door and out of the tent, then heads in the direction of Sharon's quarters.

[from_the_outside]

She slips back into Aunt Peggy's spare uniform – the other items from the seamstress are even more civilian than the slacks. And she thinks even Private Sellers would pause before destroying a uniform.

Besides, if she's going to meet with Steve and Phillips, she should probably look the part. She sits on the edge of her cot, hairpins in her mouth, and stares at her reflection in the tiny mirror Aunt Peggy gave her, trying to pin her hair back up the way her aunt had shown her.

It's annoying, but it helps to imagine stabbing Private Lorraine with the pins as she's pushing them into her hair.

[nerves_of_ice]

He pauses outside, a polite distance away. “Agent Carter?”

Bucky nods to a couple of passing soldiers, then calls, “I’ve got your lunch. May I pass it through?”

[from_the_outside]

She gets up and comes to the door, then pulls the flap aside and fastens it. "Hi," she says, wry, then studies him and the tray.

"That was quick. You didn't stay to finish your own lunch?"

[nerves_of_ice]

The look Bucky gives her is eloquent in the way it screams you can't possibly be serious.

"No, ma'am, of course not." He nods to the tray. "Martin sent a jar of vinegar. Once your things have dried you can use it to blot out the stain, with a little water."

[from_the_outside]

"Thanks." She accepts the tray and looks down at it, smiling a little at the vinegar. "That was thoughtful of him."

Sharon glances back at him. "Are you still hungry? We could share."

[nerves_of_ice]

"I'm fine," he promises. "But thank you."

Bucky gives her a careful look. "Are you okay? It wasn't hot enough to burn you, was it?"

[from_the_outside]

"I'm fine."

She sets the tray on the end of her cot and looks back at him as she slips the last pin into her hair. "Just annoyed. It's been a long time since someone's 'accidentally' dropped a drink on me."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Lorraine's not as subtle as she thinks she is," he agrees, leaning lightly against the tent pole at the doorway.

[from_the_outside]

"About as subtle as a brick to the face."

She puts the little jar of vinegar by her drying clothes, then smiles at the honeycomb as she uncovers the tray. Sitting on the edge of the cot, she sets it in her lap and looks back at him. "You sure you don't want anything? I don't want you to go hungry on my account."

[nerves_of_ice]

"I'm sure. Eat your lunch," he says, firmly. "Want me to leave you to it and come back later?"

[from_the_outside]

"Not unless you have somewhere else you'd rather be," she tells him, and lifts the drying clothes off the camp stool before nudging it towards him with her toe.

"But if you feel like hanging around, have a seat."

[nerves_of_ice]

He takes the stool and sets it in clear view of the door, then takes a seat on it.

"You know, you could do worse than talking with your aunt about how to handle Private Sellers," he observes. "They've clashed before."