James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes (
trainwrecked) wrote in
tushanshu_logs2012-09-08 12:39 am
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Entry tags:
open; out and about.
Characters: Bucky Barnes and open
Location: Around - outside the city included. State if you have preference!
Situation: Bucky is out and about, now that he's got a lot less excuse to be reclusive...
Warnings/Rating: None for now.
A/N: Prose and actionspam both welcome.
Bucky was... well. One word he couldn't quite process in conjunction with 'dead' was 'happy,' but for all intents and purposes... all right. Maybe not happy, but the brooding, the feeling of doom and despair that he'd had to struggle against during the first weeks after he showed up had greatly receded. He was brighter, lighter, and found himself with a lot more time - a lot more genuine willingness, he guessed - to be out and about.
Of course, he wasn't crowding his friends. They hung out, as they tended to, but this place... (and Peggy) required that they do some work, and some exploring, on his own.
Bucky kept up with the lessons with Rikki, and the occasional patrol with her; also kept his own schedule and routes across the rooftops. And, sometimes, just walking the streets, trying to blend as much as a non-shapeshifter could. Sometimes, being quiet and unobtrusive (or charming) worked well enough, to get information.
And he even ventured outside the city (the last couple of years had cured a lot of his reluctance to visit the countryside), to explore the whole of the surface that was available to him. He hadn't quite managed to save enough to buy a vehicle, but he did rent a sturdy bike. He thought it suited him.
Anytime, anywhere, he stopped to talk with people, or to help them, or to just ask questions or lend a hand.
He was - not completely gone. Steve was here - even more, Steve seemed... happy. That was plenty good enough for Bucky.
Location: Around - outside the city included. State if you have preference!
Situation: Bucky is out and about, now that he's got a lot less excuse to be reclusive...
Warnings/Rating: None for now.
A/N: Prose and actionspam both welcome.
Bucky was... well. One word he couldn't quite process in conjunction with 'dead' was 'happy,' but for all intents and purposes... all right. Maybe not happy, but the brooding, the feeling of doom and despair that he'd had to struggle against during the first weeks after he showed up had greatly receded. He was brighter, lighter, and found himself with a lot more time - a lot more genuine willingness, he guessed - to be out and about.
Of course, he wasn't crowding his friends. They hung out, as they tended to, but this place... (and Peggy) required that they do some work, and some exploring, on his own.
Bucky kept up with the lessons with Rikki, and the occasional patrol with her; also kept his own schedule and routes across the rooftops. And, sometimes, just walking the streets, trying to blend as much as a non-shapeshifter could. Sometimes, being quiet and unobtrusive (or charming) worked well enough, to get information.
And he even ventured outside the city (the last couple of years had cured a lot of his reluctance to visit the countryside), to explore the whole of the surface that was available to him. He hadn't quite managed to save enough to buy a vehicle, but he did rent a sturdy bike. He thought it suited him.
Anytime, anywhere, he stopped to talk with people, or to help them, or to just ask questions or lend a hand.
He was - not completely gone. Steve was here - even more, Steve seemed... happy. That was plenty good enough for Bucky.
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Note to self: turtle shells are slippery.
His comment earns a raised eyebrow, "I didn't bring a swimming costume with me, Sergeant Barnes."
That's not a no. She even walks out of the water to find a dry spot to sit down and take off her boots. But she keeps her expression hidden for a moment, in case the worry crosses her face. She'd have no problem stripping down to her underwear to swim, but her scars complicate matters.
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Not like she can know that the exact looks of a body were less... repugnant, for somebody who grew up with Steve Rogers.
Beat. And then he adds, thoughtfully, "I could sacrifice my shirt for your modesty. It'd dry out soon enough."
There is only a slight lilt of irony to the modesty part. Considering some of their topics - the ones she picked - on the way here.
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That thought in mind, Steph huffs out a breath, ruffling her bangs, and then holds up a finger to make a turn around gesture at Bucky.
"Give a girl some privacy?"
If she gets in the water before him, she can just stay submerged enough to hide her scars.
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"Yes, ma'am."
And he sets back towards the bike in an easy lope. He can bring her backpack, just because, even as huge as the shell is? It's better to have stuff in sight. If nothing else, in case she needed something from it. Soldier, gear, habits.
Not that the privacy is that difficult to ensure. But might as well be useful while he's at it.
When he's about to get back in sight, he calls out, "all clear now?"
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By the time he's back, Steph has already dived into the water and swum out a few good feet. The shell inclines slowly, there's no sudden drop (at least not yet) but she's deep enough that her feet just touch the shell. It feels more like a swimming pool than the ocean, except for the smell of salt.
"We're good!" She lets herself float back a little, giving him a wave when he's visible again.
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He sets her backpack by the pile of her clothes, then unlaces his boots and strips down to underwear easily.
Sure, he has scars, too. A single one from his early days with the 107th, and a few burns from Dr. Zola's work on him that Steve interrupted. He doesn't even think much of them, anymore.
Instead, he wades into the water with a lot of splashing.
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The scars are noted and filed, but she doesn't see much point on commenting.
"I think it's been like two years since I've been in the ocean. I need to make an effort to do it more."
Gotham's in a bay, sure, but only crazy people would go in the water near there. The last time she went swimming was on a beach in Africa, with some kids who she'd met at one of the clinics Leslie and her had been working at. It'd been the first time she'd actually had fun since the gang war. It's a nice memory.
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He finishes the splashing by a dive. His swimming is not very good, but he's relatively decent, coming up for air after some distance and long strokes, taking him far.
When he resurfaces, he's laughing, wiping water from his eyes.
"Been less for me, but then, haven't been back States-side for almost two years, really."
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She's decided she likes his laugh, even if it seems like it's not something he does all that often. But then, he's come from a war, where he probably died; Steph can't really blame him.
"Where were you serving? If you don't mind me asking," She'd guess Germany, based on the year he's from, but she knows the Allies were fighting in more than just one country.
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No, not nearly enough. Although with Steve here, that sort of is changing. Sure, this is, in a way, also war. But it isn't the same variety as the World War.
And there isn't Hydra, with its hyper advanced weapons and research on living people. And whatever worse madness Schmidt manages to cook up--
He wrenches his thoughts away from that, and his eyes are only slightly clouded when he answers.
"HQ is ... was. HQ was technically in London. We got to go wherever we were needed though, Captain America and the Howling Commandos. Before he showed up? Wherever the front was, but I didn't spend that long with the 107th. So you could say... Western Europe?"
Small pause as he sinks down a bit, until his chin is under the surface. "Last action was up in the Alps." A smile quirks his lips, only partially tinged by amusement (and that, at how small European countries sometimes are). "The train was moving kinda fast, I might lie to you which country in particular we were in."
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That clouded look doesn't escape her notice, and she feels a twinge of guilt for even asking in the first place, but - he answers, despite the fact she gave him the option not to, so maybe it's okay.
That doesn't make it any easier to know how to respond, though she echoes his smile for a brief moment.
"I'm sorry," It's the only thing that seems acceptable. She figures he'll know what she's apologizing for.
no subject
He manages a smile that's far more relaxed, and reaches his eyes, and he dips underwater and comes up with a toss of his hair.
"Thanks, although there's no need. I was doing what I needed to do, and there's one person who'd be missing me in particular, back home, and he's here, so I'm... good. Nowhere to get back to, but that's how things go. Not the only one, which, I suppose, makes sense for a place between life, death, and dreaming."
The smile widened, and he splashed at her lightly. "One with rather nice ocean water, I must say. What's your favorite swimming style?"
Question for question, right?
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"That seems like a pretty good attitude to have to it all," She can't tell how she'd react in the same situation, she knows she's not dead, "I'm glad - I mean, that you're okay with it?"
Sort of a question, just because she feels like she phrased it awkwardly and she's worried she's made some sort of faux pas. How do you talk to dead people?
His question makes her grin, though, "The one where I'm not drowning. I'm not a great swimmer."
She can tread water and do all the rescue swimming perfectly, because she was trained in that specfically. But she actually hadn't learnt to swim before she started working as Spoiler.
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He has too many reasons to be grateful for allowing himself any resentment.
And if there are days of dark moods and worries... well. He can hide those away easily enough. The city's large, and the whole shell even larger.
He shakes his head, then laughs at the last part. "Not drowning's definitely encouraged, yeah. And, hey, if you're not in a rush to get anywhere, you don't really need much more. Plus, splashing around is all sorts of fun."
Head-tilt, and a small smirk. "Lemme know if you want a boost. Best splashes require some altitude, and this shore doesn't really feature any cliffs."
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But that's not really something she wants to dwell on, so she grins when Bucky laughs, "Can't argue with that, some of the best fun I had was at the Port St Johns, there were plenty of high spots to jump off and I was with a bunch of locals who kept egging me on."
Not that it's hard to get Steph to do something, just make it challenge. Speaking of, she's going to quirk an eyebrow at him, "A boost, huh?"
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But he doesn't push the conversation that way. Curiosity or not, he knows the desire to put that out of your mind, and he's not going to get in the way.
Instead, his eyes fill with laughter as he chuckles at the egging part, and shows his hands over the water, fingers laced so she can step on them. "Boost."
And he holds them down, for her to take that or not.
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Because he's right, free housing can be taken away, and while a job can, too, if you keep your money hidden they can't take that. Steph has assorted hiding spots, not all of them even in her suite.
She eyes his hands, then his face, and worries her bottom lip between her teeth. It's clear that she wants to, but there's something stopping her.
Fuck that, is what she eventually decides as she swims over to him, puts a hand on his shoulder to make sure she keeps her balance, then uses his laced fingers as a step to leap off. If he gives a decent enough boost, she's going to do a tuck flip before landing back in the water.
no subject
His eyebrows go up at her hesitation, but when she swims over, he's ready, and the boost is good.
Yes, he notices the scars. (And they are less of a reason for him to question than people of her own time would find them.) But what she does? The way she carries her body in the air?
"Wow. Is it a requirement for young women in the future to be in amazing shape or something?"
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There is an appropriately large splash, and she's flipped so that her feet hit the shell once she'd sunk down in the water, because it just feels natural to land that way. And it means she can jump back up, laughing.
His comment doesn't help that laughter, "Not that I've heard of. I'm just a gymnast."
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"Think it'd better if you bounce off my shoulders?"
Better for her. Because having fun? Just about right.
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"Been doing it since I was thirteen, even competed at Nationals a couple times," She likes this part of her secret identity, even if it's not entirely true. Competing was fun, and her team were some of the few people at school she had a decent relationship with. She wonders what those girls are up to now.
Yet more things she's not going to dwell on, instead giving his question some consideration, "Probably not? Going off your shoulders is a solid starting point, the boost gives me more bounce."
A beat, then, "Anyway, I probably shouldn't just use you as my personal jungle gym."
Not that she'd mind climbing all over Bucky, but still.
no subject
It's also different when the compliment is on what you do, not simply how you look. Especially when said thing requires skill that you've worked years to acquire.
Bucky laughs.
"Believe me, it's been used much worse. And I can..." he squats in the water, then straightens quickly. Then laces his fingers again with a grin. "All your call."
It's been a long while since he's been able to just relax. And she's a spectacular person to do so with.
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"Nah," She looks apologetic, a little disappointed, but she adds, "Not to like - disparge on your athletic ability, but I don't wanna get too complicated with someone untrained, especially when there's not sand below the water. I don't wanna hurt you."
She's sure he's plenty strong, with decent reflexes and balance, but he's not a Bat, not a gymnast, and if something goes wrong, even in the water (maybe because of the water, it's throwing her off a little) with the hard turtle shell below them, then either of them could get hurt.
"But if you want, when we're done swimming, I can teach you how to do a backflip," She smiles; a compromise?
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The smile returns, slowly. "Though in case we're stuck here for a while, I'd be good with changing that 'untrained' part, if you're up for it."
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She's glad he didn't take offence; egos - including her own - are tricky things, and she smiles when he does.
"I can give it a shot. I've never taught anyone before, but I can probably go over the basics with you." And she just signed herself up for giving gymnastics lessons, alright.
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