apocalypsehowcomm | Stuff [OTA]

Entry tags:

Stuff [OTA]

Who: Winter (Bucky Barnes) and OPEN
When: September catch-all
Where: Various, see prompts
Summary: What Winter gets up to in September
Warnings:

I. Movie(s) - his apartment, close CR only

In the end, Winter chickens out on setting up another outdoor projected watch party for the movies he wants to watch. Instead, he invites people to his apartment sporadically, sometimes one at a time, sometimes in pairs. He always has food and cocoa for them while they watch The Wizard of Oz or Buck Privates or Snow White, all movies that apparently came out during the time he was supposedly living in New York being a normal person.

He watches each one with dedication, hoping for... something. He's not really sure what.

Buck Privates makes him laugh, at least, startling even himself-- even if it's also kind of uncomfortable. He remembers more flashes of the war during that one than he does the movie.

II. Weeding - in town, OTA

The lamb plants sprouted in one place: he and Yelena rooted them out, burned the remains, and salted the ground where they'd sprouted. Now he's prowling the town making sure there aren't any more around. Find him poking his nose into alleys around Thing of Beauty, haunting warehouses near the one they'd cleaned out, and glaring at the fences around Dogtown as if suspecting the things to be in there, lurking, waiting to spread outside the confines of the weird places.

III. Lost - Dogtown, OTA

Winter is... not great at simply drifting along and not thinking. He is not great at being careless. So when he dives in after some stupid kids late one afternoon, he finds himself soon hopelessly lost. He isn't afraid... but he is frustrated and that apparently counts as enough to keep him turning around on himself for hours. He misses dinner. He misses curfew.

Someone might have to come in after him and lead him out, or else let him stumble out whenever the woods simply get bored of him, in the middle of the night.

IV. Passtimes - around town, OTA

Even when not "weeding", Winter patrols the city on his days off, because he can't not work even when he's not on call at ADI. His patrols are, often, more of an amble than a stalk, hands tucked into his coat pockets and gaze roving around to interesting and familiar things about town rather than fixed and open to take in as much as possible at once.

He sits on benches in the (non-Dogwood) park and reads out loud to himself from whatever book he's working on that day. He checks the local papers on streetcorners (those he doesn't read out loud). He buys a milkshake at a little drive-through and looks surprised at how good it is. He looks for any sign that there might be an event related to swing dancing anywhere in town, and is largely disappointed at the lack.

A friend passing by might get offered a sip of his milkshake. A stranger paying any attention to the newspaper stand might get his newspaper offered to them, even if he isn't finished with it.

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Well then, Steve hopes not, too. They'd better figure out how to get themselves out, first, anyway.

Honestly, holding hands is better. More secure. So when their hands come together, if anything, Steve relaxes a fraction of an inch and the flashlight beam slows.

"Yes," he agrees, fingers tightening around Winter's. "I guess we should just... pick a direction?"

It's then that he remembers: "I've got a compass. But I don't know if it'll matter in here."

"Give it a shot," Winter shrugs. "Can't be worse than what I've been doing." He pauses, frowning in the dark. There's something about that, a compass, that sounds familiar. "Why do you have a compass?"

Said compass may or may not look familiar, too, when Steve pulls it out - carefully, and with a firm grip on it. He is not going to lose it in here. Not on his life.

"Oh - I mean. It's handy," he points out, watching the needle slowly drift back and forth for a moment, like it's trying to fight its way to north.

He glances at Winter for a moment, feeling a little foolish for being sentimental, but he certainly can't deny the faded newsprint photo pasted to the inside of the lid, either. "And it came through the ice with me. Seemed silly to get rid of it after that."

Winter frowns at it, and grabs Steve's wrist to hold it still so he can get a better look at the picture.

"Who's she," he demands, disgruntled and not entirely sure why. "You have a girl back home, Rogers?"

Steve lets Winter grab him, though his grip on the compass stays careful and sure.

"It's -" Well. Winter clearly doesn't remember her; still, Steve tilts the compass (and the image) a little so the other can see. "Her name is Peggy," he says, maybe pausing a little to see if there might be any recognition, but not for very long before he adds, "Not exactly."

Yep. Super-helpful answer, there.

Edited 2022-12-01 04:15 (UTC)

The name, combined with the carefully arranged curls and the secretive little smile, does strike something familiar in him. It's not actually a pleasant something, though he's hard-pressed to put a name on it. He's not sure it's important enough to try. Certainly not now, in the woods.

Winter scowls and lets Steve's wrist go. "Did I know her?"

Well, that scowl isn't exactly promising.

"Yes," he confirms, eyes flicking back to the photo for a moment before trying to settle on the needle... which is itself slowly trying to settle again. "We worked together during the war. I..." He glances up at Winter, and now he's frowning. "I thought you got along fine, but I guess I don't -"

Really know. And he hadn't exactly talked to Bucky about that particular detail, before he'd left. That whole conversation had been fraught. Sometimes it makes Steve sick to his stomach to think about it. Like there's something he just... missed. Something he's still missing. Some misstep that he was so sure of until he put his foot down to find only air. He doesn't like that feeling at all, but it became moot(ish) the moment he'd ended up at ADI.

"She was a lot like you," he finally finishes. "Like you used to be, before. Maybe that's why you were both my friend."

If they happen to glance aside, they're both sufficiently distracted from trying to find the way out now that the path is pretty much... right there. Winter is not glancing aside just yet. He's busy trying to come up with a response that isn't annoyed for no reason he can understand.

"I don't know how I felt," he finally says. "I don't know what to call it. I think. Maybe it was complicated."

Steve isn't looking up just yet, either; his eyes are fixed on the compass. It doesn't quite seem to be finding north. That... feels about right, doesn't it.

"Maybe," he agrees, with a soft laugh. "That sounds about right. But it's okay, I know you don't remember a lot." Yet? Yet. It's going to come back, he knows. Or, at least, he's pretty sure. These circumstances are different. But it also hasn't been nearly as long.

It's then that he does glance up - and as soon as his brain registers what he's seeing, he snags at Winter's arm, lunging for the path.

Winter is maybe a little less sure of that. Surely if he was going to get more back, they'd be coming back more quickly. More often. But he doesn't mind, most of the time. If he doesn't chase them, they can't frustrate him.

This one is frustrating him, though, mostly because he doesn't know what it means.

He doesn't have the chance to worry too much about it, though, because Steve is grabbing him and yanking and he stumbles a few steps before they both land out on the path. "Fuck," he says, both surprise and relief. "Maybe we can get home."

Steve still isn't entirely sure how - or how fast - it came back, and Winter seems... well. If he doesn't want to be called Bucky, then Steve isn't going to push. It's not his decision. It's Winter's. So he's certainly not going to push in any other areas, either, unless it seems actively detrimental to the man.

Steve glances carefully at Winter, almost more out of the corner of his eye, because he's afraid to take his eyes fully off the path that - thank god - seems to still be under their feet. "I think we'd better keep our eyes on it," he says out loud, and his fingers don't loosen in the least in their grip around Winter's arm. It's a little weaker than it once was, even as a regular Joe; the burn scars robbed him of a little feeling, a little strength, but he manages just fine. And nothing could make him let go now. "And a grip on each other," he adds, carefully pocketing the compass, again without tearing his eyes away from the path.

"Yes," Winter agrees firmly, and hooks his fingers into Steve's sleeve, right back. "I am not risking losing you again."

He nudges with the knuckles on that hand for Steve to start moving, letting him lead the way down the path, since Winter's attempts at finding his own way, path or not, have all been for naught. Hopefully Steve will have better luck.

"We're probably too late for curfew by now. Wonder if Belova can sneak us in," he comments, much preferring to focus on the here and now than confusing emotions from a life that isn't even his anymore.

There is something comforting in the way Winter grips him, too; Steve slowly takes one step forward, then another. Then another. The path seems to be staying put. For now. He hates being so cautious, but he doesn't want to move faster, so he gets them inching along at a slow but steady pace, step by step, eyes on the ground, hoping Winter will warn him if he's about to smack into something.

His lips do twitch into a smile, though, when he replies, "I think it's less a matter of can she do it and more a matter of will she."

Okay, Steve's bad at sneaking. But he's not terrible.

Edited 2022-12-24 04:11 (UTC)

Winter eyes him briefly, at the statement, but then gets back to watching the woods, just in case there's a threat. "Belova is good," he says, sounding kind of dry. "She is not a miracle worker."

Mostly, yeah, it's probably about Steve. Winter can probably sneak in... maybe. With help.

That startles a little bark of laughter out of Steve; he'd slap Winter on the back if he were willing to let go of him. "Think I could get her to give me lessons? For her own sake, I guess."

The path seems to stay under their feet, and Steve starts to relax, if minutely.

"Otherwise I guess I'll see if Bonnie can put me up for a night. Since I'm sure you won't have any trouble getting back in unnoticed."

"The mats in the ADI gym aren't too bad, either," Winter offers. He kind of doesn't want to leave Steve alone, now. Yelena will understand. Probably. He'll have to call her and let her know, of course. If she isn't already freaking out. If Steve was worried, Yelena probably will be, too. Damn. He should have called sooner.

The exit is right up ahead, though, with a light shining through the branches from ADI's gate station, so at least they're almost free.

Steve glances over. "You sound like you know that from experience."

There is definitely part of Steve that doesn't want to leave Winter alone, either. (His fingers are still clenched in Winter's sleeve.)

"Maybe I should try that, then. I'll even already be at work in the morning, how convenient."

He's talking, but his attention is fixed on that gate. They're almost there, but he doesn't think he'll trust it until they're there - and, honestly, a good several yards beyond it. "You see the gate, too, right?"

Probably best to check, given everything.

"I've napped on them before," Winter agrees. "Also get thrown onto them a lot by students and sparring partners. And yes, that's the gate. Pick up the pace, Rogers. We're almost out." And he maybe sounds pleased by that. Relieved. That'll teach him to stay out of the damn woods, even if the stupid teenagers run in on their own....

Steve does indeed pick up the pace, even before he can really pick up on the relief in Winter's voice. Frankly, it's relief he feels, himself. Especially knowing it's real - or, at least, that they both see it.

"I'm beginning to seriously dislike this place," he says, just as they finally, finally reach the gate. Steve can't help the way he reaches out the hand not gripping Winter's clothing and taking hold of the gate itself, like he needs that anchor to pull them the last little bit of the way.

And he still doesn't quite let go of Winter, even once they're both past the threshold. He does slow and stop, though, glancing behind them.

"Let's not do that again."

That's okay, Winter isn't moving away, either. He wants to make sure they're really out, and Steve really isn't going to do something stupid like go back in now that he's rescued one person. He might, in fact, position himself still between the forest and Steve himself.

"Not like that, anyway," he agrees sourly, looking over his shoulder only briefly, before focusing back on Steve. "I'll feel better when all I see are buildings. Not trees."

Steve is not going back in now. He is not going back in... at least until tomorrow. You're good.

"No," he agrees. "And next time, we go in together to start." He considers. "Maybe with a lead rope."

His half-smile means he's probably not serious. Probably. It would be kind of impractical.

Nonetheless, he is heading them straight in the direction of the nearest buildings. He'll feel better once they're there, too. "So. I guess we're sleeping in the gym tonight?"

"I'm gonna text Belova first," Winter says, keeping a hand on Steve even as they start towards civilization again. "but. Probably." Because Yelena is good but she is also not a miracle worker, and Winter is no longer enhanced so he probably couldn't get in without being seen anyway. "It's fine. I know the night guard."

"Well, somebody's got friends in high places," Steve murmurs teasingly, but frankly, it's clearly by the grace of Winter and those friends that he won't be lacking for a place to sleep tonight, either. "You always did know how to make better connections than me."

Winter shoots him a brief, confused look. "He's a co-worker, Steve. I don't think that counts as high places." Or really a connection. He wouldn't call Frank a friend, really, just someone he sees in passing, knows the name of, and maybe occasionally hangs out in the shooting range with.

"It's not a low place," Steve points out. And look - that's how you start making friends. It doesn't have to happen fast.

"It's definitely one more night guard than I know. I'm usually tying not to draw their attention." He tends to squeak by just barely before curfew some nights.

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worthallthis - 2023-02-01 06:12 (UTC) - Expand

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