James "Bucky" Barnes (
fist_of_hydra) wrote2016-05-28 08:01 pm
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Snarky ColdWinter #2
The team had been arguing for a while now, and getting nowhere. They'd narrowed Savage's location down to Italy in September of 1944, but couldn't get any farther than that. James thought he had a pretty good guess what Savage wanted - this was where HYDRA had most of their facilities, and the Red Skull would be the perfect ally to Savage.
The only people who would have any further intelligence about Savage's possible movements were the Allied or Axis forces. Neither were going to hand the information over to a bunch of strangers. Ray wanted to play dress up and march in, pretend to be an officer and demand the information. Sara wanted to go in at night and steal it. There were half a dozen other ideas floating around, and all of them were bad. Quite a few of them were likely to get them shot at.
Ray might be onto something, though. At least, if you turned your head and looked at the idea sideways. Trying to march in and claim to be an officer nobody in the camp had ever seen was asking for a swift visit from the MPs.
Marching in and claiming to be an officer everyone in the camp had seen was another matter.
James had been lurking by the doorway, as was his habit, rather than sitting around the table with the others. He hadn't been contributing, so he was able to slip out without inciting comment. Once in the hall, he strode toward the fabrication room. "Gideon. Do you have any footage or photos of me in uniform in this time period?"
"Of course, Mr. Barnes."
"Good. I need a copy made, and make sure it looks worn and used. Can you do that?"
"Certainly."
"Then do it." James strode into the fabrication area, where a uniform was already synthesizing. He paused, looking at it, and rubbed a hand over the scruff on his chin.
Five minutes later he strode back toward the main room. It felt odd to be back in this uniform. Gideon had even managed to make it smell right - which was to say, like blood and gunpowder and harsh lye soap. Even stranger was not feeling his hair brushing against his cheeks and neck. He hadn't had short hair since HYDRA took him, and he found he already missed it long.
This wasn't him, anymore. It felt like the ghost of Bucky Barnes was riding his shoulders, and the weight was pressing him down.
"...are we supposed to do, walk in and ask them nicely?" Sara was saying, her tone full of exasperation as she threw her hands up at Ray.
"That's exactly what we're gonna do." James rose his voice enough to cut through the babble. Everyone turned to look at him, and most of them did a wide-eyed double-take. He raised an eyebrow at them. "It's just a matter of the right person doing the asking."
The only people who would have any further intelligence about Savage's possible movements were the Allied or Axis forces. Neither were going to hand the information over to a bunch of strangers. Ray wanted to play dress up and march in, pretend to be an officer and demand the information. Sara wanted to go in at night and steal it. There were half a dozen other ideas floating around, and all of them were bad. Quite a few of them were likely to get them shot at.
Ray might be onto something, though. At least, if you turned your head and looked at the idea sideways. Trying to march in and claim to be an officer nobody in the camp had ever seen was asking for a swift visit from the MPs.
Marching in and claiming to be an officer everyone in the camp had seen was another matter.
James had been lurking by the doorway, as was his habit, rather than sitting around the table with the others. He hadn't been contributing, so he was able to slip out without inciting comment. Once in the hall, he strode toward the fabrication room. "Gideon. Do you have any footage or photos of me in uniform in this time period?"
"Of course, Mr. Barnes."
"Good. I need a copy made, and make sure it looks worn and used. Can you do that?"
"Certainly."
"Then do it." James strode into the fabrication area, where a uniform was already synthesizing. He paused, looking at it, and rubbed a hand over the scruff on his chin.
Five minutes later he strode back toward the main room. It felt odd to be back in this uniform. Gideon had even managed to make it smell right - which was to say, like blood and gunpowder and harsh lye soap. Even stranger was not feeling his hair brushing against his cheeks and neck. He hadn't had short hair since HYDRA took him, and he found he already missed it long.
This wasn't him, anymore. It felt like the ghost of Bucky Barnes was riding his shoulders, and the weight was pressing him down.
"...are we supposed to do, walk in and ask them nicely?" Sara was saying, her tone full of exasperation as she threw her hands up at Ray.
"That's exactly what we're gonna do." James rose his voice enough to cut through the babble. Everyone turned to look at him, and most of them did a wide-eyed double-take. He raised an eyebrow at them. "It's just a matter of the right person doing the asking."
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He drew a breath, glancing around - not for permission, but to tell the others (like Rip) that he was taking charge here and not to interfere.
"Listen," he said quietly. "This is a timeship. We've all been recruited from the future to go after Savage. James here is you, like you have probably figured out. It's important that we not change the past. Something like that could even wind up killing him - killing you earlier than you would have otherwise died. You get it?"
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James was staring right back, flat but not as dead as he had been before, and without the aggression. At this point, he was simply resigned. "Don't ask questions you already know you don't want the answer to."
"You said you were ninety-eight, how the hell..."
"Serum," James interrupted him. "You've already figured that out. And other reasons I'm not going into."
Bucky swallowed, scanning the other him from top to bottom. The anger, the surliness, none of it was normal for him. How could he possibly end up like this? And where the hell was Steve, why wouldn't his best friend be on a mission like this?
He was deathly afraid the answer to both questions might be the same. "Why wouldn't you want to change the past and make everything better?"
James sighed, and looked at Len. His answer was to his lover as much as Bucky. "Because it wouldn't be better. Not in the ways that count." Glancing back at Bucky, he answered the question he knew was actually preying on his younger self. "Steve's fine, he's just got bigger shit to take care of than this. I don't actually need him holding my hand all the time, y'know."
That made Bucky sputter a protest about requiring a babysitter, which at least got his mind off what sort of horrible things might happen to turn him into James.
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Well, he could. He liked James just the way he was.
"That's it, you've heard enough, Buckaroo," he said. "James, Mick, get out. He'll get healed up, and be back on duty and hopefully everything will go back to the way it was."
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The order to get out pissed James off further, but he could see the wisdom in his lover's suggestion. It wasn't really surprising that his presence would aggravate Barnes further. Yet, everything in James was screaming at him to stay until the serum reappeared, until his metal arm came back, because until those two things happened, he wouldn't know they'd fixed the timeline.
Reluctantly, he nodded, cast one last dark, inscrutable look at Barnes, and left.
In moments only the two men were left in the room, Bucky looking up at Len from the hospital bed. He was trying hard not to show how shocked and uncertain he was, but he wasn't succeeding terribly well. "So, uh... you and me, huh? How the hell does that even happen?"
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Well, he was going to do his best to avoid feeling that way, anyway.
"Suffice it to say I offered you a job when you needed it, and things went from there."
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Shit, was Steve upset about him being with a guy? Bucky didn't want to believe that was possible, that his friend would be that closed-minded. Steve had accepted Arnie, why would he reject Bucky?
Worse, he couldn't ask. If that was the reason, he didn't want to know, because it would change how he viewed Steve now. Though, on the same tack, if he didn't know it wasn't the reason, he'd always wonder and that would change things, too.
Damn it, he had to know. "Did Steve and I fall out? Is that why I needed a job? Please tell me it's not because I'm with you, I can't believe he'd do that."
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It was a lie by some definitions, but thankfully, Len was a good liar.
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"All done, Sergeant Barnes," the pleasant female voice that came out of nowhere declared. Hesitantly Bucky wiggled his toes, and was astonished when they moved with no trace of pain.
In fact, nothing hurt, anywhere on his body. If this was future medicine, it was absolutely incredible. He pushed off the bed and to his feet, and didn't so much as wobble as his soles hit the ground.
"I've taken the liberty of fabricating you some period-accurate footwear, Sergeant," the unseen woman said.
"Uh... yeah. Thanks," Bucky said, awkward. "So, what now? I pull my fake boots on and march back to the others, try to forget this ever happened?"
Until whatever the fuck it was, happened.
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"That's probably best for everyone," he said, spreading his hands. "If you come with us after Savage, more things might change. You'll need to act like you never met us."
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Not telling his best friend about all this was unthinkable. But Bucky wasn't stupid, and he got why the subterfuge would be necessary.
Didn't mean he had to like it.
"I assume you can't just erase my memories of all this or something, or you'd have done it already," he sighed. He pulled on the shoes the invisible woman had somehow put on a shelf in the wall while he wasn't looking. They fit perfectly, and were even battered and broken in the way his old ones had been. It was kind of creepy.
((I'm thinking once he leaves, Len goes back to his room and we deal with James being afraid Len wishes he was more like Bucky, they have sex, and that'll be it ^_^))
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He watched Bucky put on his shoes, and then stepped back. "You know the way?"
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"Thanks. I mean I guess technically I wouldn't have ended up getting captured again in the first place if you hadn't come along and..." What was that phrase they'd used? "And disrupted the timeline. So maybe I shouldn't be thanking you for saving me. But you did, so I am."
He gave Len an awkward sort of half salute, then headed out of the ship.
In their room, James had been watching the whole exchange on a monitor, thanks to a quick demand to Gideon. Seeing Len interact with his former self made him feel strange, almost sick.
They made a good pair. Bucky, with his clean-cut good looks and wry sense of humour that was actually a pretty decent match for Len's, seemed like a far better choice compared to James.
One of the things he'd always been grateful for with Len was that his lover hadn't known his past self, wouldn't be comparing James to that younger version. Now that was no longer true.
And James was terrified he might come up wanting in Len's eyes, now.
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It was interesting to get to know the past version of his lover's self. It certainly gave him context, and he appreciated the opportunity to have spent so much time with Bucky - though he wasn't sure those insights were worth the real damage it had done to James.
Speaking of which, he wondered where James had gotten off to.
He wandered out of the infirmary before Gideon could ask him if he was sick, and then asked Gideon where James was. Having been informed that James was in their shared room, he sauntered in that direction and into the room, his eyes immediately seeking James. "How're you feeling?"
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"Fine. I'll be glad to get the fuck out of here. Serum and arm are back." He flexed his once-again-metal hand for emphasis.
Unfortunately, Len knew him well enough that the wire-tight tension in his muscles would give him away, even if his lover somehow didn't notice the subtle trembling of his right hand as he worked with the parts.
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Yes, he had seen the tension, the trembling.
"So what's wrong?" he asked. He figured all this had to be hard for James - maybe it was just the emotional distress of the whole thing catching up to him. But it could be something more, and either way, Len wanted to know.
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Blowing out a harsh breath, James shifted subtly so some of his weight was leaning into Len in turn, grateful for the contact. But even that wasn't enough to make the rockets in his gut stop firing off and going in all directions.
"Does something have to be wrong?" He knew he wasn't doing a very good job of being convincing, but he wasn't sure he could put this worry into words.
Or worse, what if putting it into words made it real? What if it wasn't just all in his head?
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"But somehow, it seems like something's wrong anyway, so spill."
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Not that he'd have it any other way.
Growling, he leaned back against the wall, shifting away from Len again. He couldn't meet his lover's eyes, and his voice was gruffer than usual when he spoke. "What'd you think of him? Me. Younger me."
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"L'il old Bucky bear?" Len asked jovially, leaning back a little. "He's cute as a button, and just as much of a stubborn pain in the ass as he'll grow up to be when he's you. Why?"
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Then again, by comparison, he supposed his charming and innocent younger self did come of as a sort of adorable. Like the Flash, all well-meaning and shiny-eyed.
Shaking that off, he shrugged one shoulder, trying to pretend it didn't bother him. "Seemed like the two of you got pretty close. He was trusting you a lot, there."
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Len just looked at him levelly, and arched a brow, his lips twisting wryly to one side. "You gonna ask me what you actually want to know, or just pussy around it for a while longer?"
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Wasn't Len's, either, but neither of them was stupid. James knew this was the sort of thing that could fester, badly, if he let it.
"He'd... fit better with you. Than I do. Personality wise, I mean." While his younger self would certainly have turned up his nose at the idea of being a thief, his relaxed and easy-going personality would have been a great match for Len's flamboyance and theatrics.
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He didn't even give James a chance to respond, shaking his head. "And even if that were true, so what? You think I'm gonna dump him for you? Come and live in the 40s with all the rest of the homophobic shitstains - which I include past you in that category, actually. He's pretty, I'll give you, but you look just as pretty and you have a lot of other qualities that I like a hell of a lot better."
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He shook his head, fists clenching. "I don't want to see you ever look at me like that. Like you're wishing I was more like him. And the thing is, you deserve someone more like him. Not a brooding, surly, antisocial asshole."
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"Stop it, you're making me sick," he complained. "You wouldn't see me look like that, because I don't, at all wish you were him. You think I deserve to be with someone who's not a brooding, surly, antisocial asshole? Have you met Mick? I like those kinds of people. I like you, just as you are, so get with the program."
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