James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nerves_of_ice) wrote2022-05-19 10:31 pm
nerves_of_ice) wrote2022-05-19 10:31 pm
Entry tags:
[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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"That's not – it's not the same thing. You know that."
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Steve hauls himself back from the brink and runs his hands over his thighs before looking back up. "It just can't be a priority. Not right now. The missions – "
But he can't quite figure out where to go from there, and trails off, lamely, before looking at Bucky in mute appeal.
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He holds his best friend's gaze with his own. "But that doesn't mean it's wrong to ask her to dance in the meantime. She's made it pretty obvious that she's waiting for you to do that. She wouldn't have, if it were going to be a problem."
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"And anyway, we're talking about you, not me. But you'd better watch yourself. If Peggy thinks you're fooling around with her niece, she's going to take it out of your skin."
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Bucky reaches out again and clasps Steve's shoulder, giving him a light shake. "Hey. If that's what's bothering you, pal, I can help. Dance lessons have to be easier than boxing lessons were, right?"
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He looks askance at the offer, uncertain. "I don't know, Buck."
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He grins at Steve, trying to make it reassuring. "It's just another kind of footwork," he promises. "You'll pick it up easy."
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He studies Bucky, lacing his fingers together. "Speaking of, I know we talked about it a little in the pub, but... are you going to be okay, having her in the field with us?"
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He remembers clearly watching Peggy clock that goon at Camp Lehigh, but – "I mean, firearms, I guess, but... I couldn't throw a punch at a woman, Buck, even just to test her. It just doesn't sit right with me."
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He blows out a breath. "Wish we knew more about how Agent Peggy was trained and assessed. If it goes that way, you could always take a defensive position, let her wear herself out against you," he suggests. "Or me, or Jim, given the three of us are best at hand-to-hand."
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He gives Bucky a careful look. "You sure you'd be okay doing that?"
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"Just don't tell her you're trying to think of her like your sister," he suggests, amused.
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"Rogers, don't make me have to scrub your mouth out with soap."
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"Anyway, it's not like you need my advice on women. We both know it goes the other way."
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"But for now, I think we better get some shuteye. Want me to bunk in with you?" he offers. They've done that a few times, swapping out who gets the bedroll and who gets the cot - right after Azzano, after particularly difficult missions, other times when circumstances warrant.
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"No. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with you."
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"Okay," he says, and reaches down to put a warm hand on Bucky's shoulder. "Then I'll see you in the morning, Buck. Get some rest, pal."
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He's still worried, as he heads back into the night, but it's a little mollified. After all, they're adults. They know what they're doing.
He hopes.