apocalypsehowcomm | Gift Horses and Mouths [OTA]

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Gift Horses and Mouths [OTA]

Who: Winter (Bucky Barnes) and OPEN
When: First half of December
Where: See prompts for locations
Summary: Catch-all for December, for exploring, working, and TDM prompts
Warnings: Claustrophobia, hallucinations in the exploration prompt

I. Opening Up Dogtown - closed to Steve and Yelena, exploring

They didn't expect Dogtown to be fun. They expected it to be creepy, dangerous, and possibly gross. Audible hallucinations, caves that try to eat them, lots and lots of mud... great times. Winter keeps close to his people during the whole day's trip, but he'll feel positively disgusting by the end of it.

II. Furthering in Dogtown - closed to 1 person, for this week's explore

With Yelena continuing along the north of Dogtown, Winter heads south into H16 with this week's partner. Will claim the square once somebody hits him up or pokes me about it on plurk!

III. Teaching Time - ADI's training day

Most of Winter's students have either vanished on him, or are of a level now that they don't really need him. He'll spar with them, offer advice when asked, or work side by side just for the comfort of having someone in the same room, but it's not the intensive teaching he started out with.

So when ADI hosts another training day, he settles in next to the weapons, folds his arms-- wearing his tac vest that shows off his metal arm-- and waits patiently. Anyone want a teacher in how to fight? Because he kind of misses showing people the basics. Teaching is something, he's found, that he enjoys. Seeing people survive where they otherwise might not is even better.

IV. Escher on the Loose - ADI building

On a regular day, Winter is just patrolling the ADI buildings, like usual. When he turns down the hall he expect to lead to the library, he finds himself in the IT offices. When he opens the stairwell door into what should be a sub-basement level, he finds himself in the cafeteria. It's disorienting. He kind of hates it.

The elevator problem he gets to miss, of course, because Winter never takes elevators, especially not crowded ones. But he does spend nearly an hour prowling the building trying to get to the front lobby by the stairs. Care to prowl with him?

V. Holidays Are Coming - About town

Christmas last year was awful, and also Winter didn't really know what the whole festivities were even about, so this year Winter is bound and determined that at least his apartment and his friends get to have an okay time for some of the season. Help him pick out a tree and haul it back to the ADI apartments. Sit with him in the living room of said apartment and string popcorn or cut paper into old-fashioned ornaments or place little candles on the safest branches. Keep him company while he stares into shop windows and frets about gifts.

Winter is not very good at gifts. He has no idea what people want. And he is going to agonize over it.

VI. Winter vs The Kids - Library

There is apparently a reading thing at the library. Where one reads aloud to children. Winter somehow finds himself signed up for this, and stares at the children gathering with something akin to panic, holding his chosen books to his chest almost like a shield.

It takes him three times, when it's his turn, to start speaking, but when he does it picks up and it's okay. He reads one short story (for kids, of course) and one picture book, though the picture book he just memorized so he doesn't have to read and show off artwork at the same time, and it's... okay.

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No Christmas lights may not have been a unanimous decision, but with three people in the apartment, two of them were enough to carry the vote. And the prospect of decorations that won't force them to tell horrible truths has Yelena happily stringing popcorn, a mug of hot cocoa at her elbow, with a candy cane stuck in it for stirring.

And, just a bit, for feeling extra festive. She enjoys the season, the sheer cheerful frivolity of it.

"You know," she says, pausing to re-thread her needle for another little garland. "They are having holiday storytime at the library in town."

"Mmm." Winter hears her, makes a noise to show he hears her, but he has no idea why she's even mentioning it. He focuses on carefully cutting along his pattern in the paper, figuring she'll explain in a minute if she wants to.

"They're still looking for volunteers to read to the children," she continues. "You like reading to people."

Which she doesn't at all mind - she enjoys listening to him, when they both have a spare moment and aren't engaged in something else. It's peaceful - for them, if not necessarily for the characters in the stories.

"I was thinking it would maybe be something you'd enjoy doing. You would have a very enthusiastic audience. Tiny, but enthusiastic."

That makes him stop, and look up to stare at her a little. "What. Me?" For a moment, it doesn't even compute. Him, a bunch of kids, all of them looking at him. Maybe asking questions. Their parents would never allow it, surely. (Even though he's no longer actually a frightening, looming presence around town these days, and most people consider him a friendly cryptid sort of fellow who maybe isn't quite right in the head rather than a potential murderer, he still thinks of himself as such.)

"You," she says, and smiles at him, sun-bright. "You're good with little children. They'll think you're very cool. They will maybe ask if you're a robot, but they'll think that's even cooler."

"Their parents will not," Winter protests, still kind of blank over the whole idea, not sure if he wants to think about it enough to be interested when he's sure it won't work. "The library will not. That one I yelled at will probably remember." He didn't really yell at her. But he glared and growled a lot. That's enough.

"Their parents will see a veteran reading to their little children, and that will make them happy," Yelena counters, quickly enough that these, at least are hurdles she's already considered. "They won't know what war, but they'll see how you hold yourself, and the ones who have seen you around town will have seen your arm, and already have assumed. And you snarled at the librarian a little, but you didn't take a swing at her or try to pee on her shoes, and those are only the things that happened to the staff last weekend, so even if she does remember, she'll forgive you."

She's quiet for a moment, then says, "I won't try to corner you into it, if you aren't comfortable. But at least give it some thought?"

He trusts her not to push him into something he doesn't want, so he nods and looks back down at his work, picking up the cutting again. After a beat he asks, almost hesitantly, "You really think the kids would like it?" It's true he prefers reading out loud, it seems to make the story more real, and occasionally he has other people who enjoy listening, but he doesn't require an audience... and some people find it annoying. His voice still doesn't have a ton of inflection to it.

"I do," she says. "I think it would be the highlight of their day."

She pauses to set down her half-finished popcorn garland and take a sip of her hot chocolate, one finger holding the candy stick out of the way so it doesn't poke her in the nose.

"It would have definitely been the highlight of my day when I was very small, in Ohio." Before the Red Room, when stories were still and entirely an innocent indulgence.

"You are braver than most," Winter points out, but he has his thinking face on as he finishes that paper ornament and starts on another. "Do they give me the book? Or do I pick it?"

"Now. I wasn't when I was small."

She had been, but her point of comparison is Natasha, and that skews everything.

"They give you a list that you pick from. So that way they know that the book is appropriate for the children, but their volunteers are still reading something they care about."

"I am sure you were brave even when you were small," Winter says, only about half out of loyalty. Then: "I'll have to see the list."

"I have it," she says, and pulls her phone carefully out of her pocket, unlocking it and opening up the file before turning it to show him. "Here."

He gives her a long look that clearly says he's not impressed by her preparedness, this time, but he does set the scissors aside and takes the phone, scrolling through the list. He realizes he doesn't even know what he wanted by looking at it, since it's not like he knows most of the titles. Any of the titles, actually.

"I'll have to look them up," he sighs. "But if I can find something I like. I'll try it."

There's no repentance in her expression as she meets his gaze - in no small part because she's approached this like gathering intel for a mission proposal, her own lingering scars rearing their ugly head in the most absurd of fashions.

"We can go into town when you feel up to it," she says. "If you want the company."

He finishes skimming the list, and offers her the phone back. "I might be less likely to run away from it if I have company," he admits. It's more than a little scary, the whole prospect of it... but that doesn't mean it's bad.

She takes the phone back, swiping the list away before sliding it back into her pocket, and gives him a quick smile. "Then it's a date," she says.

"Boring date," he warns. "Probably." He goes back to his cutting, finishes another string of paper ornaments to hold up. "Christmas dinner will be better," he adds, looking vaguely satisfied with that, at least.

She laughs at that, bright and delighted. "After all of the stupid things we've had to deal with, I am not complaining about boring," she says.

"Christmas dinner will be excellent."

Winter gets up to string the ornaments on their (rather massive) tree. "You're okay with inviting Steve?" he asks, sounding maybe a little uncertain that she'll say yes. Maybe she wants a her-family-only dinner. Steve might not be her family.

Yelena just blinks at him for a moment as she processes the question, clearly startled. "Of course," she says. "Why would I be not okay with inviting Steve?"

She had, in truth, assumed his inclusion, like some unofficial fourth member of their little pod.

That would be a relief to hear. As it is, Winter shrugs a little awkwardly, but not as warily now that she's answered positively. "I don't know if he's family. For you. Enough for Christmas dinner."

She rolls one shoulder in a shrug of her own, not quite awkward enough to be a mirror of his gesture, and resumes stringing popcorn. "He is for you."

She hesitates a moment, and then - because that doesn't feel like quite enough explanation - adds, "And he is...one of us, even if he doesn't live in the apartment. Since Wolf Pen. If I'm being honest, I didn't even think about him not being here."

That's all apparently the right thing to say, because the last of the uncertainty slides out of his posture, and he glances over his shoulder at her with a little smile. "Okay. Good. He's important to me, too. Doesn't freak me out anymore, except when he does something really stupid."

"Do you think we can train him out of doing that?" Yelena wonders, flashing him a quick smile in return. "Or are the very impulsive things too ingrained by now?"

"He's always been like that," Winter says wearily. "No way to stop it. But he's." He hesitates, trying to prod at his own brain without courting a headache or the wrong kind of flashback. "He's less than he was," he settles for. "Less impulsive. Rash. Which is probably saying something."

"Oh, no," Yelena says, nose crinkling slightly. "That is a terrifying thought. But also not surprising. I don't know all the things the Avengers have done, but the ones that make the international news would be...tempering. A little."

Winter's not sure he actually likes that thought. The idea that Steve went through enough shit that it made him... less. Even if less rash and less fighty is, objectively, a good thing.

Feelings are complicated. He hates them, sometimes. "You should tell me more about what they do," he says. "Sometime. Besides the aliens thing." He remembers that one.

"I can tell you the things I know about," she says. She pauses to tie off her string of popcorn, and pushes back from the table to come up alongside him by the tree, not crowding, but still close.

"You should ask Steve about what they do, too. He will have stories that aren't just secondhand. He might like telling them to you."

"Steve does't usually like talking about himself," Winter says dubiously, not moving away. Yelena has long since become safe enough to be close to. He may actually shift a little closer, only half intentionally. "But I can ask."

He gives her arm a little nudge with his elbow. "You tell me something, first. Something with Natasha in it, too."

"Tell him that if he doesn't tell you, you will only get my versions, and the ones that do not come from the news come from Wanda and from my sister," she says, grinning up at him.

She leans over enough to tip her head to rest lightly against his shoulder, and holds up the popcorn string. "Help me put this up, and then we will have more cocoa, and I will tell you about the time they fought evil robots in a flying city."

Caitlyn's tried to make herself useful as a shooting instructor. The results are mixed - she's excellent with a gun but has never tried to explain how they work to another person before. And so, despite her enthusiasm, people's interest eventually seems to peter out.

She's thinking of leaving when she catches sight of Winter.

"I don't suppose you're offering instruction on hand to hand combat?" She's almost completely defenseless against anyone who manages to get within five feet of her, and she's starting to realize that that's a problem.

"I am," Winter says gravely. He warns: "It is not a one-time lesson. I start with the basics and drill you in them, make you practice until it's second nature. My goal is not to make you... a fighter, necessarily. But to keep you alive. Which does not always look like you expect."

Caitlyn nods seriously. "I can learn."

The level of practice and discipline required can't be too much different from the long hours she spent on the range as a child learning how to shoot. Nothing she can't handle, she's sure.

"Good." He'll take her at her word, and he points to the mats off to one side. "Come over here and I will show you how to fall without hurting yourself, first." Because if you fall down and you've got the wind knocked out of you or you're hurting, you won't get up again as quickly to fight or run or even just roll out of the way of another hit.

Caitlyn follows him over to the mats and adjusts her feet. That's one thing she does know, at least: stand with feet shoulder-width apart. And then she waits for his explanation of how to fall properly.

Yelena isn't surprised by the cave. She can't be, not when her first indisputable contact with the supernatural had been a strange, trapped room that had led into a cavern system. She isn't precisely happy to be back underground, between that and the mines in Wolf Pen, and her rigid posture only grows more so as they continue. She seems to be waiting for something to go wrong, checking back over her shoulder frequently, searching the shadows of the cave's roof as the bats rustle in protest of the intrusion.

Even so, the twisting of the stalactites and stalagmites isn't immediately obvious. Flashlights provide only so much illumination, and the shadows warp and twist on their own. Eventually, though, she can't chalk it up to an optical illusion any more - the things are pressing together, twisting, changing the corridor to restrict retreat, she's sure of it.

"Tell me I'm not the only one who thinks the cave is trying to eat us in slow motion," she says, flippancy a flimsy guard against the growing dread.

Yelena isn't the only one less than thrilled to be back underground; Steve isn't one for showing nervousness, but there's something uncomfortably writhing and twisting in the pit of his stomach as they push deeper. As he feels the mud squelch underfoot and tries not to think about the sucking sand of a beach off the coast of France or the rising water in a cockpit. It's... hard, harder than he'd like, to push those associations down.

"Well, that's one way to put it," he observes, dragging a foot out of ankle-deep mud only to realize that... yeah. Yeah, the way they'd just come is most definitely being restricted.

It makes his heart race in a way he's not proud of.

"I think it might be the most accurate way," he adds, twisting again to glance in front of them, flashlight beam bouncing off the shadow-strewn walls. "Do you think it's proportional to how fast we're moving?"

As in, if they start picking up the pace, will the cave do the same?

"I don't know, but we should so faster anyway," Winter says, voice tight. He is normally okay with small spaces... when he chooses to be in them and they're a place to hide from something worse. Right now, he's not liking this much at all.

Bringing up the rear, he nudges at Steve and Yelena's backs for them to hurry up.

"Maybe," Yelena says, grimacing as the mud sucks at her boots - more strongly than it should, because they're on a slight upslope, and it hadn't been this deep at the bottom.

"I think it's herding us. But staying here will be worse than anything it's herding us towards. This was one of Deepthi's tricks that they told us about, the mud. I think Jaeger and I found one of her hideouts in Dogtown, very soon after we arrived."

Steve does hurry it up at the nudging; he doesn't want to be in here any longer than he - any of them - have to. And honestly, in the end, it doesn't matter if it reacts by speeding up. Yelena's right. They still need to get out.

"That's almost reassuring," he admits, trying to ignore the sucking squelching mud, wrenching one boot free, then the next. He doesn't like the way the cave walls seem to be closing in, but at least that doesn't have the same overtones of memory as the mud. "It might mean they don't have any new tricks."

He reaches out, snags a hand in Winter's sleeve. Just to make sure he's still there, even as he keeps his eyes trained on Yelena, slightly ahead of him.

Winter doesn't protest the grab. He does push at them harder, yanking his boots out of the mud to attempt a jog. "Move. If it is herding us to something I will shoot it when we get there."

"Or that some avatar bullshit lasts even after the avatar is dead."

Which is such a cheering thought.

She grimaces a little at Winter's prodding, but picks up her pace, as much as she can without risking her footing in the slick mud. It isn't getting any lower, and if she were wearing anything other than sturdy, well-laced boots, she's fairly certain she'd be at risk for losing one. She can't help but be put in mind of grasping hands with each heavy step, can't help but think that if any of them does lose their footing and go down, it will be a fight to get them back up.

"Aw, Winter, you say the sweetest things," Steve says mock-lightly, though he can't deny that Yelena might be right, in which case, "That's not as reassuring, though, is it."

But maybe more likely.

"You know, I coulda brought the hammer." He's not quite grumbling, more saying something just to have something to say as they struggle their way toward the other side of the cave, though with the rock formations seeming to almost grab for them, swinging something heavy at them seems pretty damn appealing right about now. "Everyone okay so far?"

He can sense they're all speeding up, is sure they all have it in them, but it still seems reasonable to check. If he's got to start hauling rather than grabbing at or following, he will.

"Not risking you getting your hand burned worse," Winter growls, squelching up into a proper jog, no matter how much his knees are going to regret it later. "If I have to carry one of you, I will," he adds, which is half warning and half threat. Go on, Steve, make him sling you over his shoulder...

Though realistically, Yelena is much more likely to get scooped up over his shoulder than Steve is, both for weight reasons and for boot-sticking reasons. He trusts Steve's bigger feet to get free easier than Yelena's smaller ones.

"I would rather we had explosives," Yelena says, with a huff of humourless laughter. She can feel the faint burn in her thighs and calves as she fights against the weight of the mud and to quicken her own shorter stride, but as yet, it's not quite enough to leave her breathless.

"It would be much easier to collapse this stupid tunnel once we're out so no one else wanders in here for it to eat."

If burns are the price he's gotta pay, then they're the price he's gotta pay - besides, can you burn a burn scar? Either way, "I'd probably just use it to hit things," Steve grumbles quietly, but he's got to put some effort now, too, into staying moving. Fortunately, he's okay for the moment, so not in immediate danger of being slung over anybody's shoulder.

"You know, I'm not usually an explosives guy, but I think you might be right," he admits to Yelena. He reaches out, intending to use a nearby stalagmite to pull himself forward, like a climbing handhold - and recoils a little as it's like sinking his hand into mud. "That's not rock." It takes some effort to pull his hand free of the sucking stuff.

"Guys," Winter says, sounding exasperated. Honestly, he's the former Winter Soldier. He does like blowing things up when he can. "Do you really think I wouldn't go on a dangerous expedition like this and not bring a couple grenades. I just want us further clear before I throw one."

He's not interested in burying them all. "Go," he reiterates, urgent and nervous.

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Gift Horses and Mouths [OTA]

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I - Caves

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