bracchium: (lk)
ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪɴᴛᴇʀ sᴏʟᴅɪᴇʀ ([personal profile] bracchium) wrote in [community profile] station722016-06-21 05:59 pm

When it gets inside; [open]

CHARACTERS: Bucky and whoever
WHERE: The Bearings
WHEN: Day :012-:014
SUMMARY: Bucky is back at the Bearings after a bit of an absence.
WARNINGS: Probably mentions of death, gore, violence, etc.



{ A :011 late/:012 early } [closed to Steve Rogers]

[Bucky's back! Almost immediately upon setting foot back in the Bearings, he makes a beeline for one of the rooms farthest from the common room. He's come in lugging a backpack over one shoulder, with a metal arm half-sticking out the top, and looks a little like a sewer rat dragged through a gutter or two. His brain sounds much the same. As soon as he's cleared the threshold of his room, he snaps the door closed and locks it less than a heartbeat later.

An hour allows him to take a quick shower and calm his head enough to attempt sleeping. However, the bed is entirely too soft after so many days curled up on the floor (and eventually a mat). He can't close his eyes for longer than a handful of heartbeats.

One by one, he's stealing the cushions from one of the couches in the common room in multiple trips a few minutes apart.
]

-

{ B :012 - :014 } [open to all!]

[The first couple days, Bucky makes himself scarce. Though he doesn't ever leave the Bearings, he's not exactly a stable fixture in the common room. Occasionally, he collects some food to eat from kitchen or ventures out to grab a book. When he does make a prolonged appearance, he's settled at one of the tables, alternately writing in a small notebook weighted down by a coaster and tracing the textures on said coaster. From time to time, he doesn't do either and simply stares off into the distance, brows furrowed, only to furiously scratch more words into the page when he comes back to himself.

On the rare occasion, a heavy steel arm will sit beside him at the table.

His head hums slowly, not nearly as active and loud as his initial arrival, not so cluttered. Static simmers at the edges of his senses, threatening to boil over, but Bucky is at least trying not to broadcast everything everywhere.
]
decommission: (pic#10099171)

[personal profile] decommission 2016-06-24 12:31 am (UTC)(link)
[ There's a smile, one side of his mouth quirking upward and his head tilting just a bit. A bed that's too soft is almost an oxymoron for him (he doesn't know what it's like to sleep on rocks and dirt frosted with dust, curled up in trenches dug decades earlier). ]

Yeah, we did. [ All their conversations have been short and stilted before this, and Bucky's memories come out of him in questions for Steve to confirm, that yeah, he remembers that too. His tone is warm enough each time that the wistful edge threaded beneath it could easily be missed.

He steps toward the couch, lifting up the last cushion for him. Lets out a soft huff through his nose, an eyebrow raised. ]
You sure you're gonna fit on these?
decommission: (pic#)

[personal profile] decommission 2016-06-24 07:32 pm (UTC)(link)
[ A flicker of surprise, eyebrows knitting together again - that's how stark the difference in Bucky's demeanor comes across to him. He owes Sam. Owes him a lot. After a split second his expression settles, another soft, lopsided smile as he starts walking toward the room Bucky's claimed.

Slyly: ]


Like I said - [ It's ribbing, close to that easy banter he's missed so keenly. Once close to the doorway he stops, switching gears. ] Those walls helping any?

[ The mental ones, the quick lesson Steve had given him on them back in Subspace: visualizing specific images and using them to block out what doesn't belong. Steve had done his best to wall in his own thoughts while they were trapped in close quarters, gun shy of making any kind of mental overtures after the fight in the street. Even at its most quiet, there's a slight hum to the floor, the press of minds clustered together, each capable of bleeding. ]
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[personal profile] decommission 2016-06-26 07:33 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He's aching for a familiar sound, soft as it is, for the presence of his friend that's been lacking in a way that turns close proximity turn into distance. The moment's there and gone in the time it takes Steve to open his mouth again and Bucky to answer. A shake of his head as he bends down to place the cushion next to the rest. ]

Not much. [ Close quarters make for quick lessons, and it's gotten surprisingly easy to keep his mind untangled from Bucky's. Like tuning a radio - if the sounds coming from it could be cold and sharp and cast in copper. Helps that if he ever had to wonder what his friend's mind would be like, these aren't the words he'd have used to describe it. Not before. ]

Glad you came back. [ Here, to the Bearings. ]
Edited 2016-06-26 19:35 (UTC)
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[personal profile] decommission 2016-06-28 06:52 am (UTC)(link)
[ He lets out a breath through his nose, straightening on his feet. His gaze fixes on the cushions. ]

We're all supposed to be looking out for each other. [ A beat, then: ] Things went sideways on our first mission. Someone got killed. [ Guilt, for once not directed toward Bucky or their strained situation. ] The way we're all connected, you know - it hurts to suddenly lose someone like that, [ like losing a limb, he almost says, shaking his head instead ] - it hurts like hell for the people they're connected to, even if they've only just met. You saw it, folks get anxious when they don't know where you're turning in at night.

[ Both Sams had turned up at their run down door. Ilde, even Ren - they'd all come looking for Steve at some point with concern on their minds. He'd made it clear to each of them he couldn't come back alone, and they'd been forced to leave him be until now. ]
decommission: (pic#9902125)

[personal profile] decommission 2016-07-15 06:05 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Now they know. Heavy words, made even heavier by the weight of exhaustion that comes with them. Bucky lies down on his makeshift bed and all Steve can do is stand there dumbly for a minute. It's bee a hell of a week, processing in shifts and pieces just to get to this point. After being cramped up together for that long he ought to just leave the conversation at that, let Bucky try to get some sleep and go do the same for himself.

His mouth twists, head tilting to one side as his gaze hits the floor in front of him. Agitated with himself. ]


Mind if I take the bed?

[ His voice is low, measured, the sound of someone who's making himself ask when he knows he probably should just leave it. They're not ten years old and sleeping on the fire escape, they were living on the street for a week because one of them has been through hell and living with those demons in his head. More company isn't going to help that.

It's hard to ask, because he knows this is for himself. ]