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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.]
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.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
[Bucky settles himself further on the cushions and shuts his eyes. He doesn't mind the company right about now, especially not Steve's. After several days cooped up with him, Bucky's become more acquainted with the other's stubbornness. Even if Bucky wanted him gone, he doubted Steve would leave.
Sleep. He needed sleep and every breath required more effort than the last.
Before he falls asleep in proper, though, he climbs back up to his feet to push a chair underneath the doorknob.]