Bucky feels as though every single bit of him aches, his skin one giant blur of bruises and dirt and blood. Part of him knows he should maybe wash up but Dugan's passing him two large tankers of beer and patting him on the back so that's forgotten. Besides, it's not like any of them are winning beauty contests tonight. Even Steve with his blonde hair and big blue eyes looks a little too rough around the edges for the good girls of London.
Bucky takes a large gulp of one drink as he walks, picking his way through the bombed out bar the Howling Commandos and Co. have made their base camp for the night, waving one finger at Steve and Peggy chatting with the General in the corner. He keeps moving, stepping over broken wood and glass and bits of debris, smiling as the bartender bickers with Falsworth about something English. Sometimes it surprises him just how quickly people are getting over the trauma, the bar's in no fit state but it's open anyway. People still need a place to go when it comes down to it.
He finds Howard in the corner, screwdriver between his teeth and a piece of metal between his hands. Bucky places is spare drink in front of the other man and straddles the chair beside him, his knee pressed against Howard's in the dark of the corner. ] Day's over, sweetheart. You're allowed to clock out any time now.
Howard wasn't on the front, he never was no matter ho wmuch he argued about it, how he could help, he could pilot one of the planes, but that wasn't how it worked. He had to stay back to take care of what was brought back, which today had been quite a bit.
That was why he hadn't gone to the bar, even though Steve had asked him if he wanted to when he swung by to tell him that he, and Barnes and all the commandos were all okay, in a bit of a rough shape, but they were okay, safe and sound back home as they should be.
There had been a part of him that immediately wanted to go and find James. To show him just how grateful he was that he was back home, but things had been tense. Not between them directly, but there'd been a few choice comments made in his wake that had made him be careful. Not for his own sake, but for James's.
He wasn't quite expecting him to come to him, but he's happy he does. He's been working on the remnants of a plane, trying to piece it back together, figure out where it had gone wrong since it hadn't been shot down. He lifts his gaze first when James speaks, even if he's already feeling a spark of pleasure from the touch of his knee. If only because he hasn't been able to feel him for some time.)
The day never ends, but I might be able to take a break for a friend.
(He sets the tools down then and smiles, taking the drink.)
You know the krauts ain't got nothing on me, Stark. [ Bucky wriggles his eyebrows a little bit, his entire face a message of cocksure toughness. He's tired and it shows in the lines around his eyes and mouth but there's something still sweet there whenever he looks at Howard. He definitely holds his gaze for a beat too long before he glances back to his beer and takes another deep drink. Part of him wants to get absolutely one hundred percent drunk so that Steve's forced to carry him over to his tent. The other part is just too tired for anything but sitting there.
He opts for the middle ground, setting his tankard back down and leaning into his seat, glancing at the bits and pieces over the table. ] You figure out what made her tank it yet? [ Because he knows that Howard won't rest until he figures it out. He's just as stubborn as the rest of them. ]
I guess that means I'm stuck with you, huh? Can't even get rid of you when I want to. (It does show, but honestly, that makes him feel good. It makes him relax a little, because it means he's really there. Sometimes he worries in the dark of the night when he's alone that one day he won't come back, and all he'll be left with is the memory of him. Fresh lines mean he's still there.
He takes a small sip of his beer, it's not his favourite, and he doesn't need it. It James wants it, he'll give it to him and let him drink it, too. He needed it more. Het lets out a huff at the question and shakes his head.)
Not yet. That's part of why I'm still here working instead of out drinking with you lot.
(He drops a hand, letting it fall to James's knee.)
I might have to look at it with fresh eyes in the morning, it's getting all blurry.
Mm. [ His smile softens at the touch on his knee, his head tipping gently Howard's way. For a moment Bucky just watches him, happy enough to let himself indulge. Sometimes the days are just the wrong edge of rough and sometimes they're not. Today is one of those in between and he just doesn't want to be alone. ] Yeah, looks like you need a break.
[ Some of the Commandos start laughing riotously and Bucky just quirks an eyebrow, his eyelids already at half-mast. ] You sure you don't want to go and have a little fun? Dugan's learnt some new limericks or somethin'. He's been spoiling to teach everyone them all day but Steve put a ban on it the first time the HYDRA goon heard him.
(Sometimes Howard likes to pretend that they're sneakier than they actually are. That no one but Steve knows they're together, and he only knows because of an unfortunate incident that occurred some time ago. But he's not that subtle, not really, but most just know better than to say anything. Most think that if you can find some semblance of happiness during the war, you should hold onto it. He squeezes his knee gently, giving him a small smile.) We could go for a walk.
(he wants to kiss him. To feel him against him while he still can. But the laughter makes him cringe just a bit, a reminder that in some ways, they're always surrounded.) Was he laughing at himself, and they snuck up on him? (Howard laughs then, too.) Maybe a quick trip to hear them, but I'm more tired than anything.
[ Bucky doesn't even care at this point. His death creeps in at the edges of everything and he knows it like it's already an intimate friend. Because he feels as though it's just a matter of time. He escaped Zola's laboratory, sure, but every step the noose gets tighter. He'll take what joy he can get until it's all over.
Of course none of that ever shows on his face or drifts into his words and if he has nightmares then most people are kind enough not to acknowledge it. ] A walk? I could walk.
[ All he ever does is walk but they might have a few scant minutes alone. Maybe he'd get to touch him.
-- Changing his tune. ] The songs ain't all that special anyway.
(don't they all feel that way, though? Sometimes Howard feels that way. They're not even close to winning yet. The bombs keep dropping and hope with it. It's soulcrushing, but Barnes at least is a point of light in the darkness for him. When they lose men, or cities are lost, he always goes to him. Crawls into his bed and clutches him, because there's no one else who can comfort him the way he can, nor anyone he would trust to see that he was scared. Even Steve never saw that on him.
Howard squeezes his knee again.) Then we should walk.
(Because walking is good. WAlking is what he does when he can't sleep and James is on the front so he's worrying. Walking late into the night and to morning. Waiting for news of the man he loved.
He bounced up, and laughed.) Yeah, And I'm sure it'll be better when he's sober and doesn't get confused.
[ He groans but it's good-natured, his knees bracing to push himself off. ] Hang on, hang on.
[ His own beer gets drained as Howard hovers, clearly ready to get out of the bombed up bar and away from the noises of their little band. Bucky is too but he doesn't want to waste alcohol. ] You want yours? [ It's not even really a question considering he shrugs as he lifts it and downs it too, throat working a little as he swallows. When he's finished he wipes the back of his mouth with his hand and smirks. ]
(Mostly because he doesn't need it. Beer isn't his drink of choice either, and still, the guys needed it more. Anyway, he had a good bottle of scotch in his hotel room that they could enjoy once they were back. He watches him as he drinks, with a soft smile on his face. He goes to grab his jacket from the coat hanger that stood in a corner. It's not really cold out, technically he doesn't need it, but it's a matter of principles and how he wants to present himself.
He snorts when the other wipes his mouth with his hand, gently shaking his head.) You're vile.
(But it's with fondness as he inclines his head slightly to get the other to follow him outside, and down the street. There weren't many people out at this time of night, they were, thankfully, exempt from any curfew in place, but that didn't mean they were going to try to draw too much attention, though that was more because Howard slowed once they were a few blocks away, so he could walk close to him.)
[ He doesn't say you love it out loud but it's very much there in the quirk of his eyebrows and the shape of his mouth. He doesn't have a jacket to take and so he simply shoves his hands in his pants pockets and sets off after his friend.
Bucky's glad for the silence at first. It feels like a balm after the noise of the day, one ear still ringing slightly from tank fire. He wonders just how many bits of the war he'll have to take home with him ( ringing ears, scars, broken bones, a shattered heart? ). Still, when Howard slows and starts to talk he's eager to step a little closer, shoulders rounded against the night chill. ]
I'm fine. [ It's not really a lie, it's just that he doesn't want to catalogue the impact. He'd much prefer to avoid it at all costs. ] Nobody died. On our side anyway. Day went okay.
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Bucky feels as though every single bit of him aches, his skin one giant blur of bruises and dirt and blood. Part of him knows he should maybe wash up but Dugan's passing him two large tankers of beer and patting him on the back so that's forgotten. Besides, it's not like any of them are winning beauty contests tonight. Even Steve with his blonde hair and big blue eyes looks a little too rough around the edges for the good girls of London.
Bucky takes a large gulp of one drink as he walks, picking his way through the bombed out bar the Howling Commandos and Co. have made their base camp for the night, waving one finger at Steve and Peggy chatting with the General in the corner. He keeps moving, stepping over broken wood and glass and bits of debris, smiling as the bartender bickers with Falsworth about something English. Sometimes it surprises him just how quickly people are getting over the trauma, the bar's in no fit state but it's open anyway. People still need a place to go when it comes down to it.
He finds Howard in the corner, screwdriver between his teeth and a piece of metal between his hands. Bucky places is spare drink in front of the other man and straddles the chair beside him, his knee pressed against Howard's in the dark of the corner. ] Day's over, sweetheart. You're allowed to clock out any time now.
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Howard wasn't on the front, he never was no matter ho wmuch he argued about it, how he could help, he could pilot one of the planes, but that wasn't how it worked. He had to stay back to take care of what was brought back, which today had been quite a bit.
That was why he hadn't gone to the bar, even though Steve had asked him if he wanted to when he swung by to tell him that he, and Barnes and all the commandos were all okay, in a bit of a rough shape, but they were okay, safe and sound back home as they should be.
There had been a part of him that immediately wanted to go and find James. To show him just how grateful he was that he was back home, but things had been tense. Not between them directly, but there'd been a few choice comments made in his wake that had made him be careful. Not for his own sake, but for James's.
He wasn't quite expecting him to come to him, but he's happy he does. He's been working on the remnants of a plane, trying to piece it back together, figure out where it had gone wrong since it hadn't been shot down. He lifts his gaze first when James speaks, even if he's already feeling a spark of pleasure from the touch of his knee. If only because he hasn't been able to feel him for some time.)
The day never ends, but I might be able to take a break for a friend.
(He sets the tools down then and smiles, taking the drink.)
Glad to see you back in one piece.
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He opts for the middle ground, setting his tankard back down and leaning into his seat, glancing at the bits and pieces over the table. ] You figure out what made her tank it yet? [ Because he knows that Howard won't rest until he figures it out. He's just as stubborn as the rest of them. ]
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He takes a small sip of his beer, it's not his favourite, and he doesn't need it. It James wants it, he'll give it to him and let him drink it, too. He needed it more. Het lets out a huff at the question and shakes his head.)
Not yet. That's part of why I'm still here working instead of out drinking with you lot.
(He drops a hand, letting it fall to James's knee.)
I might have to look at it with fresh eyes in the morning, it's getting all blurry.
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[ Some of the Commandos start laughing riotously and Bucky just quirks an eyebrow, his eyelids already at half-mast. ] You sure you don't want to go and have a little fun? Dugan's learnt some new limericks or somethin'. He's been spoiling to teach everyone them all day but Steve put a ban on it the first time the HYDRA goon heard him.
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(he wants to kiss him. To feel him against him while he still can. But the laughter makes him cringe just a bit, a reminder that in some ways, they're always surrounded.) Was he laughing at himself, and they snuck up on him? (Howard laughs then, too.) Maybe a quick trip to hear them, but I'm more tired than anything.
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Of course none of that ever shows on his face or drifts into his words and if he has nightmares then most people are kind enough not to acknowledge it. ] A walk? I could walk.
[ All he ever does is walk but they might have a few scant minutes alone. Maybe he'd get to touch him.
-- Changing his tune. ] The songs ain't all that special anyway.
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Howard squeezes his knee again.) Then we should walk.
(Because walking is good. WAlking is what he does when he can't sleep and James is on the front so he's worrying. Walking late into the night and to morning. Waiting for news of the man he loved.
He bounced up, and laughed.) Yeah, And I'm sure it'll be better when he's sober and doesn't get confused.
Come on now, Barnes. no lolligagging.
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[ His own beer gets drained as Howard hovers, clearly ready to get out of the bombed up bar and away from the noises of their little band. Bucky is too but he doesn't want to waste alcohol. ] You want yours? [ It's not even really a question considering he shrugs as he lifts it and downs it too, throat working a little as he swallows. When he's finished he wipes the back of his mouth with his hand and smirks. ]
'Kay, now you can lead the way.
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(Mostly because he doesn't need it. Beer isn't his drink of choice either, and still, the guys needed it more. Anyway, he had a good bottle of scotch in his hotel room that they could enjoy once they were back. He watches him as he drinks, with a soft smile on his face. He goes to grab his jacket from the coat hanger that stood in a corner. It's not really cold out, technically he doesn't need it, but it's a matter of principles and how he wants to present himself.
He snorts when the other wipes his mouth with his hand, gently shaking his head.) You're vile.
(But it's with fondness as he inclines his head slightly to get the other to follow him outside, and down the street. There weren't many people out at this time of night, they were, thankfully, exempt from any curfew in place, but that didn't mean they were going to try to draw too much attention, though that was more because Howard slowed once they were a few blocks away, so he could walk close to him.)
How are you really, Barnes?
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Bucky's glad for the silence at first. It feels like a balm after the noise of the day, one ear still ringing slightly from tank fire. He wonders just how many bits of the war he'll have to take home with him ( ringing ears, scars, broken bones, a shattered heart? ). Still, when Howard slows and starts to talk he's eager to step a little closer, shoulders rounded against the night chill. ]
I'm fine. [ It's not really a lie, it's just that he doesn't want to catalogue the impact. He'd much prefer to avoid it at all costs. ] Nobody died. On our side anyway. Day went okay.