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tampered2013-10-11 02:33 pm
yourbestguysgun) wrote in tampered2013-10-11 02:33 pm
Entry tags:
→ don't tread on me for i am your brother,
When: October 11th. Morning.
Rating: PG-13 but have a care for Sergeant Barnes' sailor mouth.
Characters: James Barnes (yourbestguysgun ) & you !
Summary: Working down at the gym, sweating those feelings out.
Log: [ Modern gyms are a pain in the ass. They're bright and bold and leave him feeling like he's been trapped in a cage for days. Every inch is cold metal and flourescent light. Everywhere he looks there are lurid posters and candy bars that are supposed to make you fit and he doesn't get it, never will. But he still comes because even after two years he's a soldier first and still wakes up with the edge of panic and ice in his veins. He keeps fit at any minute now the war could burst through the walls of his soft little happiness. That's something he doesn't forget.
That too bright light eats at the edge of his vision even now as his fists hit the punching bag in succession. His shirt is soaked to his skin and molded around the outline of his dog-tags that he'll never take off anyway. At least there's this, he thinks. He's always liked this, had snuck into gyms as a kid to watch the big and rough guys with too little teeth hit the leather. Had been caught up in the excitement of it all, the dust and the smoke and the smell of sweat that had permeated the walls. He remembers when his dad was still alive and would let Bucky sit up to watch the night's match, remembers telling him that he was going to be a world class boxer one day, would earn so much money they'd never have to worry again. With a mom already six foot under and an ailing sister, medical bills upon bills and his dad's distant expression, Bucky thinks even then he'd been a dumb kid.
Well, he's twenty-six now and still an idiot. And he might not be a world class fighter but he's still something. He steadies the bag and breathes out, wipes the sweat from his brow and tucks the tape on his hands back into place. And he's still got something to fight for and it's not as conventional but it's still his family.
So he starts again. ]
Rating: PG-13 but have a care for Sergeant Barnes' sailor mouth.
Characters: James Barnes (
yourbestguysgun ) & you !Summary: Working down at the gym, sweating those feelings out.
Log: [ Modern gyms are a pain in the ass. They're bright and bold and leave him feeling like he's been trapped in a cage for days. Every inch is cold metal and flourescent light. Everywhere he looks there are lurid posters and candy bars that are supposed to make you fit and he doesn't get it, never will. But he still comes because even after two years he's a soldier first and still wakes up with the edge of panic and ice in his veins. He keeps fit at any minute now the war could burst through the walls of his soft little happiness. That's something he doesn't forget.
That too bright light eats at the edge of his vision even now as his fists hit the punching bag in succession. His shirt is soaked to his skin and molded around the outline of his dog-tags that he'll never take off anyway. At least there's this, he thinks. He's always liked this, had snuck into gyms as a kid to watch the big and rough guys with too little teeth hit the leather. Had been caught up in the excitement of it all, the dust and the smoke and the smell of sweat that had permeated the walls. He remembers when his dad was still alive and would let Bucky sit up to watch the night's match, remembers telling him that he was going to be a world class boxer one day, would earn so much money they'd never have to worry again. With a mom already six foot under and an ailing sister, medical bills upon bills and his dad's distant expression, Bucky thinks even then he'd been a dumb kid.
Well, he's twenty-six now and still an idiot. And he might not be a world class fighter but he's still something. He steadies the bag and breathes out, wipes the sweat from his brow and tucks the tape on his hands back into place. And he's still got something to fight for and it's not as conventional but it's still his family.
So he starts again. ]
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[She tips her head to look over him.]
You alright? October hasn't been too hard on you yet, has it?
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[ He stretches his arms out over his head, sweaty and thoughtful. ] It's gonna get bad though, I can feel it in my gut.
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[She exhales, glancing away.]
I feel like they get worse each year. I don't know if not having the deities is a good or a bad thing... the whole place seems to be falling apart in some way. I need you lot to stay safe or I won't get any sleep.
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[ Bucky's naturally suspicious of groups he doesn't understand. He grew up in a time rife with it. ]
You wanna hang about while I get changed? We could go down to the Blue Light for lunch. [ He's got some news to tell you, Miss Weasley. ]
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I'd love that, sure. We haven't done that in a while. [She smiles at him, gesturing to the chairs out in the reception area nearby.] I'll be here.
[But when he comes back out, he might find that she gravitated towards the punching bag herself where she's taking out some extra tension on the leather. It could almost be amusing, a young woman going against a thing so much bigger and heavier than her, except she actually knows a few things about how to do it. She's been taught by a few people, Clint included.]
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Eventually he makes his way over. ] At ease, Weasley. There's a drink calling with my name on it and I don't want you to bruise your knuckles.
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Right. Alright, let's go. I just had to give it a try.
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[ He follows, ducks in to pull the door open for her as they leave. ] Somethin' the matter? Or is it just the feelin' that everyone else has got?
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[And maybe the man at the front desk is a little crestfallen at the sight of Ginny leaving with Bucky. Breaking hearts wherever they go, these two.]
I think you've gotten it right. I just feel like... I don't know, twisted up, somehow. It's probably nothing. Tired, maybe. [She smiles up at him.] I hope you've been keeping out of trouble.
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[ He ambles, there's nothing else for it. He walks with the measure of a man who tries to come across as laid back. She can tell he's on edge though, that much is obvious. ]
I feel it too though. Which means we're probably gonna be down in the Station a lot. If it's hitting up the borin' folk like me.
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[But she knows it's a struggle right now, the tension strung through half the City, the weird cottage in the distance.]
But I'd feel better if you checked in with me after horrible things happen. I need that peace of mind.
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[ He bumps her shoulder with his. ] I can do that.
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But having a drink in the middle of the day isn't like her, so lead the way.
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[ Bucky kind of liked her. Sort've. When he wasn't terrified. ]
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[ Or at least he doesn't remember doing so. ]
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[It's a joke and she takes his hand as they walk because that's just how they are.]
Considering I talk to you about that stuff more often than I do with my girl friends. I wonder what that says about us. Maybe you really are my long-lost brother.
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[ He flashes her a grin and then turns the corner towards the Blue Light. ] Though a transatlantic one. I ain't ever gonna be English sweetheart, quit wishing.
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[She clears her throat and adopts his rough New York accent, eyes twinkling.]
Now, I ain't ever gonna pass as a gal from Brooklyn but that's only 'cause you know the truth. Don't go blabbing my secret, got it? Crazy punk.
[SHE LOVES YOU, BUCKY.]
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[ Oh look, house of alcohol. ]
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You're ruining my fun!
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[ He steps in and turns to her. ] Find a table and I'll get the drinks in?
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[And she snags a booth and pulls out a menu to look through the simple lunch options provided because it isn't really a restaurant, per se, but there are still things to nibble on and have a lunch with. And as she does so, she stretches out her hand, shaking the lingering ache from going at the punch bag with bare fists. But it felt good.]
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You'll get used t'it.
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It's fine. I'm just out of practice or something.
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[ Bucky doesn't need them but he thinks it's a good idea. ]
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[She smiles, taking an innocent sip of her drink.]
I'm just a sweet little schoolgirl.
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[She exhales, slouching back in the booth as she fiddles with a corner of the menu.]
Not everyone needs to know what I've done.
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You doing okay?
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Sorry. No, you were joking, I didn't... Obviously I've gotten rusty at picking out jokes now. I'm fine, you've already asked.