bakerstreet | ( under the night sky )

( m/m for anything shippy. )

Steve wasn't meant to question his charge; he was meant to keep him safe. That meant that when TJ Hammond wanted to go swimming, all Steve was supposed to do was make sure he didn't drown or get attacked in some fashion. That didn't change the fact that they were out late at night because TJ had gotten a whim and decided to act on it.

Still, Steve took it all in stride and looked about the area of the pool for any potential threats. He was good at his job; if it weren't the luck of the draw that put him on TJ's case, he'd have been guarding the current president. It was a nice night out, and occasionally Steve would find himself glancing at the stars.

At this point in his life, TJ is used to bodyguards — he's had them since he was a kid and this is really no different. Well, maybe sort of different because he wasn't allowed to just up and leave in the middle of the night when he was fourteen. Minor details. The late night dunk in the pool might have sounded like a better idea before he actually peeled off his clothes and took to the chilly water.

There is no "might" about it, really, but it's fun.

Steve's pretty quiet, maybe a little too lenient because this certainly isn't the first time TJ's gotten a random urge in the middle of the night and there's a good chance it's not going to end at the pool this time. It's not like he can complain too loudly, though. As far as security detail goes, he's at least good looking and seems like a nice guy.

It takes a couple of minutes for him to get used to the water's temperature, but when he does, he decides that maybe, just maybe, Steve's being a bit of a stick in the mud. So, he pushes his hair back, palming away some of the water from his face and gives it a go —

"You really okay just watching? You don't like to swim? C'mon." Because, really, what could it hurt?

Despite all the things people have said in the past about TJ (Steve's no stranger to gossip, and to be honest, it's sometimes necessary to be tuned into things like that when it comes to keeping someone safe), he's always thought that TJ was good deep down. He doesn't see things like this as "indulging" whims so much as he sees it as being trusting of the man he's been put in charge of guarding; in any case, he needs better reasons to give TJ a "No" to anything.

He looks down from his latest round of stargazing to offer the brunet a faint smile. It's not often that he does get the chance to go swimming, but this would be a good breach of protocol. Still...

"I'm not so sure your parents would be happy with my joining you." Not that it's majorly their business; TJ is an adult and the displeasure of his parents can only have so much of a hold on his life, right? Right. "How's the water, though?"

He might just be convinced.

(f/m for anything shippy)

The ceiling, far above him, looked like stars. Bilbo knew that no matter how high Erebor might be, how it kissed the clouds, it could not swallow stars. And yet, as the fractured Company sat in silence throughout the great hall that Thorin had been raised in, Bilbo could not help but think that the way their campfire caused the gold and gems encrusting the ceiling far above them to shine looked like the night sky.

He exhaled and pulled himself up. Smaug was gone, flying too fast for them to ever hope to catch up. They were tired. Hungry. Discouraged.

And Thorin-- Thorin was beyond even Bilbo's reason now. He could not put the thought of that sword turning for his belly out of his mind. That did not mean that he stayed away from the dwarf.

No. In fact, it caused the hobbit to gravitate towards him instead.

"What will we do?"

Thorin was sitting a little away from the rest of the group, looking up at the ceiling of his old home. He finds it unlikely now that he will ever be able to call this place home again. They had all worked together and yet they had still been unable to defeat the terrible beast that lay under the mountain. Smaug. And now because they failed to defeat the dragon the people of Laketown would surely die. The worst part was that there was nothing they could do about it. Smaug was long gone now and he would return to his treasure once he burnt that town to cinder.

So yes, Thorin was discouraged although that is a weak word to describe what he was actually feeling. For once he didn't have a plan. For once his thoughts failed him.

When Bilbo approaches him he keeps his eyes on the ceiling and the lights shimmering above.

"What can we do, Master Baggins? In my mind there is nothing. If you have an idea tell me, for I do not."

In the thick of it, he'd been called by his first name the way friends ought to be and though the backwards return to a more proper sort of calling happened to sting, there were other stings to mend instead. The whole of the city under the mountain was bathed in gold, dried now like paint, and firelight. Bilbo had never seen the like of it but now, knowing people could well be -- no, Master Baggins, certainly are -- dying because he'd not been clever enough?

That's a hard pill to swallow. He'd never been all that keen on medicines any way.

Once he'd tucked himself in, close to but not too close to Thorin, the hobbit bowed a head in need of a bit of a hair trim and rolled up his left sleeve to match the length of the right.

"There are not many of us, but we can still work to bar the front gates. Or send me back to Laketown to scout." Thorin's sister-sons were there. Surely he would want to know the outcome?

Thorin was just disappointed, Bilbo you shouldn't take it to heart. They had spent so long getting here, getting here to the exact place at the exact time that the door would become visible to them. All Bilbo had to do was go in, find the Arkenstone without waking the dragon but he couldn't manage that. Some burglar he was...no deep down Thorin didn't blame Bilbo for what had happened. The caverns of his home were filled with gold that Smaug had been hoarding for himself all these years. Asking him to search for one gem without waking the dragon? It had been a tall order. He's just not going to admit to that right now.

Thorin sat still in the position that he had been sitting for a long while now. He was going to be stiff when he finally did decide it was time to move but for now it was the least of his worries. His eyes move from the ceiling and roam around the room.

Yes, there are three figures missing, two of them being his own kin. His kin that were in that town...if he had not ordered Kíli to stay behind then they would be with them now but he knew his sister-son had not been strong enough. Finally he brings his attention back to Bilbo.

"How is it that you can still find hope in a situation like this? Hope has failed me though I know if I do nothing my sister-sons and many others will perish in the fires."

His skills were old and well-practiced. He had known someone had been seeking him and, given recent history, he knew who it was. It was a matter of simplicity to stay a certain distance ahead and still know he was being tracked. It was a bit more difficult to lay a trail that he knew would be followed and still outpace his tracker, yet it had worked. He watched from a knowing distance away as his tracker set up camp, including a small campfire. Sensible, given the weather. And oddly familiar.

There were still too many questions unanswered. He just had to make up his mind if now was the time to ask, if he wanted to ask at all.

[Ami, at least, seems quite pleased and thrilled as they head upstairs where she can have a better view.]

Thank you for coming along, Minako-chan; I have a lot of homework for astronomy tonight that I need to finish!

[Because of course this wouldn't just be about appreciating the beauty of the stars. (Really, she does do that, too, but well; it's Ami.)]

[Minako, however, is less than thrilled that she's the one lugging everything up behind Ami.]

That's what friends do right? [Minako said through gritted teeth, panting as they make it to the top step before pausing to look up at the sky.]

It's so beautiful.

[Eep, she was horribly thoughtless, wasn't she? Ami hurries back to Minako's side to take some of the things from her, scolding herself internally all the while.]

Let me get that. You shouldn't have to carry so much of it when it's my project to begin with.

[Oh Minako wishes Ami had noticed 3 flights of stairs earlier, giving her friend a flat look before smiling suddenly.]

I can help set up! Come on! [She said as she grabbed the box with the telescope, perhaps a bit more roughly than was wise.]

[She's so sorry, Minako, really! And you bet the internal kicking herself is ongoing.

There's another worry first though as Ami lunges forward to try to steady the box.]

Be careful! Those are fragile!

[She's not expecting Ami to lunge forward which causes the case to slip from Minako's grasp.

But she's on it! She lunges forward at the same time to catch it, ending up just Ami's feet with a sheepish grin.]

Maybe you should take this one, Ami-chan...

[Oh, dear. She hopes it's alright. She doesn't want Minako to worry or feel bad, though, so Ami gives a somewhat awkward smile as she picks it up.]

That's alright - we're almost there anyway. I'll bring it from here.

I've been looking forward to having some time to spend with you anyway, Minako-chan.

[Minako quickly scrambles up to take the other cases, following Ami up the rest of the way.]

Me? I guess we haven't gotten a chance to really spend much time together lately. [She said, a little surprised. But it's been busy for all of them lately between balancing lives and their duties as soldiers. It certainly takes its toll.]

[Oh, Ami understands. She's busy, too, between studying and making sure to participate in extracurricular clubs so that she'll have an easy path to university eventually. It's just nice to have some one on one time.]

It's a good night to relax, too.

But you said you had to do homework, right?

[Ami-chan, Minako will never understand you but she gives the other girl a smile anyway.] Come on, lets get started!

Sometimes they're the same thing, if friends are there with you. [Come on, Minako, you even like study groups if you can ignore the work and hang out with everyone and enjoy Mako-chan's food long enough.]

[Would you like to pick? :3]

[ooc: not at all! lets do late night swim perhaps?]

[Seiya had already proven that she was good at a multitude of sports, and swimming was no exception. She may not have been inherently drawn to water, like Ami or Michiru, but she could hold her own even alongside the two.]

[Perhaps she should have been nursing her injuries, but Seiya was far too impetuous to be held back by such things. While Taiki and Yaten were taking care of their solo gigs and public appearances, Seiya escaped to a sports center with an outdoor swimming pool. The late hour ensured that she was alone and that she had time to herself to think. Time to think of their missing princess, of their home that they'd lost, and of none other than Sailor Moon - or, as she'd recently discovered, Tsukino Usagi.]

[She'd been warned to stay away from her, but Seiya knew that she couldn't do that, even if she wanted to. She willingly risked her life for Sailor Moon and if she were honest, she'd do it again.]

[The Sailor Soldier heaved a deep breath, immersing herself into the water. She wasn't strong enough to do laps, but the pretense of activity made her feel less idle. She was so deep in her thoughts that she failed to notice the presence of another nearby.]

[Swimming wasn't normally something Minako got to do but tonight under the bright stars she wanted to get out. She had left behind Artemis, sneaking out past her parents.

It was cold but she jumped in feet first anyway, letting the shock of the cold water overwhelm her. Her body felt sore, the battles were taking their toll. When she surfaced with a gasp, her eyes widened as she saw someone else and quickly dunked under water. All she knew is that they weren't Ami or Michiru, she had thought she would be alone here.

Either way, she couldn't hold her breath forever and she swam over to the side as she got a better look at who had joined her in the pool, her eyes widening.]

It's you!

[Seiya was startled from her reverie by Minako's presence. Her hand automatically went to her transformation brooch and headpiece, but she forced herself to relax. Arming herself now would only mean that she wanted to fight, and that wasn't what she wanted to do.]

Oi.

[She lifted her chin up to acknowledge Minako. She had no desire to argue with her and hoped that the other Sailor Soldier felt similarly.]

What are you doing here?

I could ask you the same.

[Minako made no move to indicate that she wanted a fight either and so long as Seiya did the same, she wouldn't. She let out a breath then, Usagi believed that they could all work together, who was she to doubt her princess?]

I guess we both needed some peace and quite, huh? [She asked with a small smile.] It's a beautiful night out tonight.

[A crooked smile quirked at Seiya's lips. Peace and quiet . . . when would they ever actually get that? Sailor Soldiers had only brief interludes when all was well. Before they knew it, it was once again time to fight.]

Heh. Yeah.

[Well . . . that just meant they had to make the most of the time they were given.]

It is.

[Her smile disappeared and was replaced with a frown. Galaxia would ruin this beautiful planet just like she did to Seiya's home. Could she just stand there and watch it happen?]

Let's enjoy it. ["While it lasts," was left unsaid.]

[Minako looked up at the stars, leaning back against the edge of the pool. If she and the others had any say in the coming battle, they would make sure there were many more nights like these for everyone.]

What does the sky look like where you guys come from? [She asked curiously, looking back at Seiya after a moment.]

[Seiya thought about it. The image of the night sky from their home made her feel nostalgic and sad. All that was left of their planet was a wasteland.]

Just like this.

[She gave Minako a small smile.]

The stars were different, of course, but it was just as beautiful as this.

[She wrapped her arms around her. Space was so big, and the fact that Galaxia was threatening this distant, small planet as well was incomprehensible.]

You must really miss that night sky. Minako said softly. For all their differences, she could only feel bad for the three of them being so far away from their home and without their princess.]

It will be alright. [She said after another long moment, her voice firm.] You have to believe in Usagi, in us, we won't let Galaxia get away with what she's done to your planet, to the rest of the galaxy.

((Non-canon shipping is highly unlikely, but feel free to ask!))

[any timeline/era]

[ This late in the day something's thick in the air and he can feel his breath getting a little shorter, but it's worth it. Down to the last, it's worth it.

He's got his neck craned up to stare into the darkening sky, palms pressed back into their blanket until the indention of the knotted fabric prints itself on his palms. There's still a bag of peanuts to get through, but it's momentarily forgotten as he grins up at that first crack of light over the city skyline. ]

It's starting.

[ Year after year, it doesn't get old. ]

Shhh. [Bucky hushes him as riflecracks ricochet between the buildings, each light blooming over a thousand echoes, like a performance that comes with its own applause. He loves the noise, the way the reverb shudders right through the roof they're sitting on, right through his bones.] I noticed.

[This is a tradition from back when his folks used to take Steve and his mom out to the docks to watch the displays. Two of them, then, the one shivering through the sky and it's exact match in reverse, reflected in the water.

(They'd called him and Steve that back then, too. Reflections, but turned around on each other so each magnified all the qualities the other didn't have - like fairground mirrors. Bucky always figured he somehow came out of that comparison the worst, even if what they probably meant was all physical.)

Now they're older, and Steve's mom died and Bucky's dad gets this look when he visits like he's wishing for good news Bucky never has to give him - so he doesn't go home too often anymore. But this part of the tradition holds. Sitting close enough to bump shoulders, and fighting over what's whole and what's scraps left in a paper bag, and fireworks.

Bucky takes a breath and he smiles, letting the beat of the explosions pound right through him, an erratic extra heartbeat. But he's not so much looking at the sky.]

Hey. [He leans enough to nudge, to get himself into what little personal space Steve's kept for himself.] So I guess I should say happy birthday. Want me to sing while it's still too loud to hear?

[ Steve laughs quietly, nudging Bucky back with one shove of his bony shoulder. ]

Shut up.

[ A glance reveals that Bucky's attention strayed from the fireworks some time ago, but that's alright. With school and work and everything in between it's been hard finding time to spend around each other lately, and he's grateful for this. The whole purpose of moving in together was to be near one another, though if he's honest it's more because Bucky didn't want him to be alone. That's fair. Even when he comes home to a snoring lump in their too-small bed, he doesn't ever feel alone.

He reaches into the bag to crack one of the peanuts open with his teeth, the nuts spilling into his hand as the remains get discarded into the grass. He offers one up as another boom sounds overhead, with the crackle of sparks following soon after to spread colored light all around them, lighting up Bucky's face in blues and reds.

Reflections, maybe. It meant one of them would have been incomplete without the other there. ]

Shut me up.

[That's automatic but, low and close to Steve's ear, it doesn't sound like an empty comeback. It sounds half like a dare.

They haven't had much time together, since. Work at the docks picked up nine to the dozen and Bucky's been coming back so exhausted that all he's had time for is a mouthful of whatever Steve's made and not eaten and then to throw himself onto the bed, kiss the back of Steve's neck and throw an arm heavy over him before falling into a cold slumber.

He hasn't complained about it - won't - it's money after all and they'll need it in winter when the weather turns choking and Steve's medication bills start to stack up. But it makes being out here almost an indulgence, and Bucky can't get his mind off the other things he'd like to indulge.

He takes the peanut and keeps Steve's hand, drawing it down into the grass where the dark and the pill of the blanket all but hides the act.]

[ It's not fair the way his heart skitters when Bucky murmurs into his ear, and he swallows down before letting his eyes dart back in his direction. His tongue rolls over the salted peanut in his mouth before he smirks and shakes his head, too-long lashes folding down over his cheekbones as he reaches up to push Bucky's cheek and turn his head. ]

Yeah. You'd like that.

[ He gets all kind of credit for his bravery, for standing up for what's right, but even he's got to pause when they're out in the open like this and he really, really just wants to tug him in and kiss him until he's out of smart retorts. Instead he lets them both pretend the flush in his face is from the heat of a July evening in Brooklyn, letting his gaze return to the sky and maybe, just maybe, tucking himself in against Bucky's side a little.

Holding his hand feels like cheating, breaking the rules, and if anyone ever thought Steve Rogers was ever a stickler for the rules they clearly didn't know him at all. ]

You didn't tell Mrs. Kelley, did you? She brought a pie over.

[The chuckle and the lean of his head into Steve's hand for the few seconds before he drops it's enough answer. Yeah, he'd like that. But no, not here, Bucky's not game for anything that's going to make Steve's life any harder (or his own - he's no martyr), wont let their friendship become a problem now that it's taken on extra shades of gray. So public's something to be careful about, and private's something still a little unsure, still trying to develop into what it's going to be. He can give it time.

But Steve's hand, he's keeping that. And looking like butter wouldn't melt while his thumb works ticklish little circles across Steve's palm and up over the skittish pulse at his wrist.]

About-? [He pauses mid word, uncertain, then lets his mouth snap shut with the grace to at least look sheepish (so maybe he's been caught recounting dates to some of the less easily scandalized residents of their building before, older ladies with not much more to do than gossip - vicarious living, he calls it, and it's like he was born for the attention, it comes so easy).] You mean how its your birthday? Why wouldn't I tell.

[Two rockets set off at once, and further down the horizon someone's smaller display is trying to compete. The sky's like glitter, like the stars are falling. Even Bucky pauses a minute to just stare.]

Would you look at that. [He lets his breath catch, lets the awe wear off his face just a little, then nods] It's free pie, what are you gonna do, give it back?

[ Bucky's fingers send prickles along his arm and right down his spine, and it's hard not to curl his fingers into his palm and squirm a little. He manages the latter at least, heaving a soft sigh as another burst of color lights up the sky overhead. The display this year is an incredible one. They must have really gone all out, and he imagines all of New York can probably see the sparks flying right now. He really thinks about what it means, too. The fourth is supposed to mean something, a day to celebrate everything they've managed to do so far as a country, and all the good they could do.

Of course, try saying that aloud and not getting funny looks. So he pushes the thought down and glances back at Bucky with a faint crease of a frown. ]

It'd be rude to give it back.

[ His growling stomach might betray another reason for keeping it around as well, and now it's his turn to look sheepish. ]

It's cherry. Figured you'd probably like it more.

[He hears that - god knows how he hears that, but he does. Or he's aware of it anyway, and the line of his mouth narrows out.

Next minute he's got the bag of peanuts and Steve's hand's forgotten, abandoned while he's sifting through for what's whole, cracking a couple easily against the base of his palm and collecting the spoils.]

It's not my birthday. [And that hand's stuck out between them again.] When it is, maybe I'll expect you to wait on me.

[The fourth means Steve's birthday, and fireworks, and Bucky mostly grateful that the two coincide because he never has to force Steve out for a celebration just for him. When he thinks about what it means, it's another year they've got through, and Steve still breathing. There are some nights, the worst of them, when that alone seems like cause to light up the sky.]

So I was thinking we could go home by that deli on the corner. Pick something up to go with dessert.

You're so weird...

[ But he takes the peanuts with a grateful little smile, munching on them quietly as the shower of sparks continues overhead. Loud pops followed by trailing crackles and shimmering trails of colorful light. It's worth seeing another year through, for this.

This year, things are a little different. But he wouldn't have them any other way. He doesn't feel quite so alone, or at least it feels like there's been a shift, and Bucky's presence suddenly means a lot more. Even when it's nothing more than a kiss to the back of his neck and a night sleeping next to that warm presence beside him... ]

We could get one of those giant heroes to split. They stack them pretty good, I don't think either of us could finish a whole one.

[ His eyebrows perk as he glances back towards Bucky, searching for his approval. As though he'd refuse on his birthday. ]

Yeah, and you sit at home hungry with food you don't eat. Sure I'm weird.

[He mutters it to his drawn up knees, and licks the salt from his palm when Steve's done picking through. The display's getting louder if anything, brighter, picking up pace as it gets to the conclusion where they'll set off a wall of rockets with a boom that always steals his breath away. He wonders, sometimes, what it would be like to see them all set off at once - the whole display. It might look like the whole world was ending, but he bets it'd be beautiful, too.

While there's still a little room to talk, he glances over at Steve and pretends to weigh it up.]

Guess I do still owe you some kind of present. All right. With a pickle on the side.

[Like that's a bargaining chip. He points a finger.]

And some extra for lunches next week. You're gonna need to take pack-ups.

[There's no explanation for this. There's nowhere Steve's (usually) supposed to be. Only clue's the grin that suddenly curls its way across Bucky's face as he leans back and waits for the boom.]

Edited 2014-04-30 05:49 (UTC)

Why? We going somewhere?

[ He knows that look. Bucky gets it before springing some kind of surprise on him, and it could be a brand new sketchbook or a girl he's hooked into joining Steve on one of their disastrous double-dates. He lets himself look skeptical for a moment, but the moment's soon broken by an explosion of light overhead.

The whiz and bang heralds the explosion of light, and for a second it turns the city as bright as daylight. The sight is beautiful, a little awe-inspiring, and Steve turns his head upwards to watch with a slow intake of breath. ]

...they really went all out, didn't they?

[ He forgets the heat for a moment, the stiflingly thick air that makes it a little harder than normal to breathe. He forgets that he's supposed to be hiding what it is he feels, and tucking himself in against Bucky as the night sky blossoms into bright, colorful explosions that seem to stretch far enough to hide the stars themselves. ]

[All right, two reasons to be breathless. Bucky doesn't flinch or tense where Steve settles against him. It's public but not exactly overlooked, and he's probably the only one who misses the final burst of the display except for where it's reflected in Steve's eyes. He's damned if he'll ever let anyone else figure out he's gotten this soft.

There are still lingering lights in the sky when he finally tips his chin up to look for them. Scattered and shifting, like a shower of broken glass. People across the way are applauding. There's distant chatter starting up.]

They really did.

[No smart remark for this one, just a full minute's silence from him, until all that's left to see by are the flashlights people have brought to find their way up.

Then he shoves Steve a little, throwing an arm round his shoulder at the same time to keep the momentum from pushing him away.]

I'm going to work, like usual. You got class. Ten 'til four, every day. Can't let you starve through it.

[Remember those art classes there was no way they could afford right now? The ones where the registration papers came with a list of books to study and pencils to buy.

Yeah.]

No, I don't...

[ And then Steve's jaw goes slack for a moment, gaping rather comically before snapping shut again, eyes incredulous and wide. ]

You didn't.

[ He doesn't exactly sound thrilled, despite it being what he wanted more than anything. It was what he was good at, what he loved doing, but there was no way to justify the expense on the chance that maybe someone would pick him up as a talent once he was done. Times were tight as it was.

And where had Bucky even gotten the money? He wondered sometimes, because there was plenty of work that paid out cash, under the table and quiet-like, and none of it was work he wanted to imagine Bucky getting himself caught up in. ]

It's just the summer classes right now. I figure by fall they'll be paying to keep you on.

[The thing about money is there's never gonna be enough of it, so when a little falls into your lap somehow, you may as well spread it around. That's the way Bucky sees it, anyhow. The work he can get at the yard, and occasional hours at the garage and the boxing gym mostly keeps them scraping through on rent and basic sustenance, along with what Steve can contribute, when Steve can contribute. But it's the extras that really pay.

Extras being the kind of job where he doesn't exactly know what he's doing. Carrying a few envelopes, meeting a guy, providing a little extra muscle here and there. So far as he knows no one's gotten hurt from any of it, and it's meant he can put aside emergency money for any time they need to get the doctor in a hurry, and still have something left over for some decent aftershave, or to show a few girls a good time.

For this that kind of work's been less extra and more regular. Maybe he's done a couple of jobs he'd rather not. But it's going to be worth it - see, the thing is, of the two of them, one's meant to be more than this, and the other's meant to be the guy who gave Steve Rogers his first leg up. Higher places, that's where Steve's headed, with a talent like his.]

And there's no refund on payment, so you don't go then I do. I hear Wednesdays they get girls in to take off their clothes.

[ The thing is that Steve doesn't want to go anywhere he can't take Bucky with him. No matter how badly he wants this, he doesn't want to step on anyone to get anywhere, much less Bucky. There's a flurry of ideas that could be the source of this newfound income and most of them make him a little queasy, and the whole rest of the summer worth of classes? That could be hundreds of dollars.

The pool of options grows smaller, and Steve reaches out to take Bucky by the sleeve, his expression earnest. ]

Buck. You know I don't ask, but wherever this money is coming from...

[ But he knows where that conversation will lead. Bucky will bristle and have a list of reasons, insist that he can do whatever he wants in that pigheaded way of his, and what should be a day they enjoy together will dissolve into bitterness and fighting, and he doesn't want that. That's the last thing he wants, and he knows it's not what Bucky intended when he swung this for him. It's not that he isn't grateful, but he's not going to look past someone else's troubles for his own happiness, and he ought to know better.

So he alters tactics somewhat, taking a deep breath and tightening the grip of his bony fingers. ]

If it's something that could get you hurt, I don't want you doing it. Not for this. So tell me you're not going to get hurt.

You don't ask, you just wanna know.

[And yes, Bucky's a little chippy about it, because some thanks would be nice, and a lot simpler, and half the value of the whole thing's going to be paid off by Steve's smile. The one he's still waiting on, eyes narrowed.

But, he could have predicted this, too. Steve doesn't ask because it never worked out so well when he used to. At the end of the day what needed to be done always was, and would be, however much it was complained about. Usually, on those occasions, Steve'd be struggling for breath too much to really hold his own in the argument. But this - this is a necessity, too. Bucky's never had much, but he's had more than Steve and probably more than he's deserved.

Steve deserves the whole world given to him, and all Bucky can manage is a summer's worth of classes in the hope it's a step toward the world noticing and opening itself up.

This is a necessity. Maybe not quite like food and heat and medicine, but it can't all be about staying alive. They've gotta live, too.

He screws up his mouth into a moue, looking down at Steve's hand curled into his shirt.]

The day anybody looks like getting hurt's my last day on the job, okay? You don't need to worry about me, it's monkey work, just pays a little more than peanuts.

[He leans in more, drags his mouth back into that charming smile he has to compensate for whenever he's feeding somebody a line.]

C'mon, when do I ever get hurt?

[There have been more than a couple of times he's wound up over his head. But those don't count.]

[ Bucky only ever gets hurt, really hurt, where Steve's concerned. It something of a blind spot. That's kind of his worry. The idiot puts himself in harm's way for his sake, and Steve can't even be mad at him for it, not without being a huge galloping hypocrite himself. For the longest time it's been enough to have one another to lean on, and despite his misgivings Bucky's got that smile that sinks down to his gut and melts the block of ice that had been forming there. He trusts him. He can trust he's going to be careful, if only because Steve would skin him if he wasn't.

So he swallows down what he wants to say and lets the notion really sink in. He's going to art school. Something he'd only really fantasized and daydreamed about doing is in his grasp. It's the one thing he's really any good at and has any hope of competing for out in the world, something he loves. He's going, and it's all because of Bucky, and his stomach is busy twisting itself into knots. Finally, his grip on Bucky starts to loosen up, concern finally overwhelmed for the moment.

If only his mom was still around to see this. Something sharp prickles at the back of his eyes as he opens his mouth. ]

I don't...I mean. This is...

[ He knows what it is, and what he really wants to do about it, and he takes a deep breath before continuing. ]

Let's go home.

[ Because a proper thank-you is coming, and it's not the sort of thing he can do out in the open. ]

Criminy, Steve, have I gotta bake you a pie before I finally get a smile?

[The exasperation's all for show, now, a gentle deflection because he knows what it means when Steve can't get his words out right. There's not much that sends him quiet like this, nothing that isn't overwhelming somehow.

See, it's worth the risk, and it'd be worth taking a couple of knocks for if it came to it, even if Steve strung him up for it once the bruises healed. But Bucky's sure of himself - he's lucky enough and strong enough that even when he gets in over his head there's always a way out somewhere. It's a charmed life, for all there's been hardship in it, and it's only a couple of the old wives who tut at him when he's home later than he's got any right to be who tell him luck's got a way of cheating on any guy who takes her for a steady date.

Steve's eyes have gone too bright, and there's a faint shake to the words he does spit out - so that grip on Bucky's barely loosened before Bucky grabs his arm right back, all but marching him on their way.]

C'mon, you baby, before I have to soak the tearstains outta the shoulder of this shirt.

[They're still stopping at that deli on the way home, but they don't need to eat in.]

Shut up.

[ There's a faint shove that is no way an attempt to slide out from under him, just part of the dance they know so well by now. And then they're on their way, and his heart is thudding hard enough to echo in his ears like a drum. There, at last, a tentative smile.

Maybe it's because good things don't last, and he prizes them so highly when they do that the disappointment is that much more crushing when they're gone. He has to learn to temper his hope without letting go of it, to guard himself against that hurt without shutting everything out. With Bucky it's that much harder. The good times are that much better, and the lows that much more painful. If something happens to him as a result of this, Steve may well kick himself for it.

But for now, times are good. For now he lets himself smile, ducking his head and letting his ears go pink, just about the time his stomach gives an insistent rumble. ]

[Bucky makes exaggerated sniffling noises halfway down the street, until Steve really does shove him, and there are a few more scuffles like that exchanged before Bucky's able to worm his way close again. It's better to do that than do what he wants. Better that than press him against the nearest wall and work on kissing him right through it.

But Steve smiles, finally and it's about all Bucky can think of.

He's not unsuited to the kind of life they lead. Knocks tend not to topple him when they hit, and he expects the good things, and works for them when they don't come along all by themselves. Sure, he's had his share of luck to smooth that along, but things aren't easy for anyone, and he's scraped by with as little as the rest.

He's got something more than most of them, though, that's the secret.

They get that sandwich, and Bucky shows his class by eating it on the street, peeling back the greased paper and sharing one half rather than taking a side each. Maybe they should have got less onions, but it's good, and they've both had an equal enough share not to care.]

I'm gonna stick candles in that pie. [He's threatening, too loudly, as they rattle up the stairs outside their building, the lights turned off all around.] And sing until you shut me up. God bless America.

You're not. Or I will find a way.

[ It's a novel feeling, this lightness. For once instead of worrying about the bills and the neighbors and whatever else, he's got a scrap of happiness to hold onto. His belly is full and Bucky's trying to get punched at again, and it's all he really needs.

His fingers dig into the depth of his pockets as he tips a look back over his shoulder at Bucky. ]

That's perfectly good pie you're thinking about desecrating, you heathen.

[ And the door cracks open with a short jiggle of the tumblers. ]

The word you're looking for's decorating, Rogers.

[Bucky laughs and he catches a hand in the back of Steve's belt so he can't vanish too far into the apartment (as far as there is to vanish in what's not much more than two rooms and a closet). He hasn't touched a drink tonight but he feels giddy enough anyhow, and the fireworks are still distant echoes thudding against his chest.

Yeah, you find a way to shut him up, Steve. Because he's singing happy birthday to the tune of Oh say can you see-]

[ Oh he will. The second they're in far enough he's turning around, and pressing Bucky's back to the door until it clicks shut, and then he's surging up onto the balls of his feet in order to catch him by the mouth. A second later and he's got his fingers in that dark hair in order to pull him down.

This is what he meant, right? Has to be. Because they know each other well enough by this point to know that a dare is as good as done the second one of them invites it. And this he'll dare to do again and again, and let a little of that earlier gratitude curl into it as well. Leave it to Bucky to pluck one of his dreams down from the sky and hand it out to him like it cost him nothing at all to do it.

Days like this he's reminded that he loves him so fiercely that it hurts, a heaviness that strangles in his chest. ]

[They know each other well enough by this point, but the change in what's allowed between them is new enough that Steve still kisses him like it's an all-out attack (or maybe that's always how Steve'll kiss him, like he's something to be pinned down and captured), and Bucky's somehow never ready for it enough not to fall back and let himself be caught.

In this case, dragged. He's gonna lose his hair early at this rate, but can't complain about the feel of it when Steve tugs like that, leaning down into the kiss to give as good as he's getting, even if it causes him to stumble forward a few steps.

Yeah, yeah this is what he meant. It's not that he booked those classes looking for a reward - it's been on his mind a while, and taken long enough to save up - but he's damned if he's turning it down. Though a few more minutes of this onslaught and he laughs and drops easily to his knees, reaching to tug Steve to him by the hips.]

Here, you deal with the backache for a change. [because there's no plan here to stop kissing him yet, not even for pie. He sits on his heels a minute though, looking up.] Happy birthday.

[ Steve kisses Bucky like he does everything. He throws himself into it because he doesn't know how to love with less than all of himself. He'd argue that as little as there is, he can't afford to do it in fractions, but he knows better than to start that argument between them. Bucky's always put him first, the way his mother told him once that love was supposed to mean, and it's like he's on a roll to try and prove it the way he sinks down onto his knees.

Steve responds almost immediately with sinking down onto his lap to put them closer together, grinning and shaking his head before winding his arms around Bucky's shoulders and leaning into another kiss. He'd find words to thank him appropriately at some point, but for now? This seems to say everything he wants to. ]

Cheater.

[Bucky nudges back enough to make the complaint, grinning getting in the way of kissing for just a second, but damn if he doesn't look at Steve like he's found some new way of staring at the sun. Bucky always thought Steve's mother had the right idea about him, how he had too small a body for too big a heart, but there's something about the way Steve fits in against him that makes him think just maybe he was made this way by design.]

Y'know, we're gonna have to cut back on going out together in public.

[He looks up to quirk an eyebrow, and Steve should know that if the whole world turned on them this still isn't something he'd say, but he draws out continuing, leaving a trail of kisses along Steve's jaw and a few little nips that - on skin like Steve's - are guaranteed to bruise. Until he's close enough to murmur against his ear.]

Takes too damn long to get you home.

Patience is a virtue, dummy.

[ Steve laughs against his temple, turning his head to nuzzle into his hair as Bucky nibbles and kisses his way up his jaw. He can still smell popcorn and grass and the faint traces of smoke from the sparklers they'd gotten a hold of earlier in the evening, and he breathes deep. ]

Good things are worth waiting for.

[ Of course that's not to say they ought to be put off on purpose. He thinks of them, of how long they both held their tongues and missed each other glancing each other's way in almost comical choreography. But he wouldn't say that the waiting made it any less worth it, and his fingers knead quiet circles into the back of Bucky's shoulders. ]

[Maybe the waiting's been a part of it. Bucky's never spent too much time on things that were won easy (look at the girls drifting through his arms) and always chased the things that weren't. Boxing trophies. His dad's approval. Some girl who'd give Steve a goddamned chance.

Being with Steve's always been as simple a choice as taking his next breath, but being with him's no smooth path. He knows that, even while they've barely begun.

The patience. The friendship that never asked for more but looked a little longer than it should have. Being there to drag Steve by the scruff out of battles too big for him, and being dragged out himself when worrying over three kid sisters and a family he couldn't please seemed like an exercise in breathing underwater. They all added up to knowing a thing's worthwhile fighting for in more than just the ways it always was.

Steve's fingers pressing their way into his muscle all but unwinds him there on the spot, and his arms wrap tight round his narrow waist keeping him right there.]

That mean you don't mind waiting on the pie?

[ That grip anchors him to the spot, and there's nowhere right now he'd rather be. It almost hurts when his lips spread as wide as they do, pulling back enough to see Bucky's face. Just so he can see the crook of his eyebrow when it comes. ]

I could be talked into putting it off for a while.

[ That said he leans in, his forehead pressing to Bucky's as he shifts against his lap, getting a little more comfortable right where he is. He's all narrow limbs and bird-thin bones, but that means he's not weighing Bucky down. And those slim fingers that so easily find ways to express with a pen or pencil or fierce gesture now smooth down to the buttons of his shirt, popping open the first with ease. ]

Got any ideas for the meanwhile, smart guy?

[Not weighing Bucky down, maybe, but he's all too aware of the space Steve takes up. The shape of him, the feel when he presses in close. He'd commit them to memory but it seems like that'd be wasting time when, if the world plays fair for a while, there'll be enough chances to get used to this, just the way things are.]

Looks like my ideas and yours might not be far off matching.

[He'd help with his buttons but his arms are settled right where they are - so he curls his fingers into Steve's shirt instead, rucking it up from where it's tucked in, oversized like everything is on him.

It's funny how Bucky's clothes could've been tailored, the way they fit him, but all it takes it a couple of buttons, a V at his throat and he looks all the more undone for how put together he'd been before.]

What do you figure it'd take to make you sing?

Depends on the tune.

[ Steve pretends to be thoughtful about it a minute, though honestly the concentrated look on his face could well be to further the process of peeling Bucky's shirt open. He pauses long enough to play the pads of his fingers against his clavicle before ducking his head. Fingers get replaced by warm lips and soft breath, just as deliberate in their touch, the tickle of his now somewhat mussed hair nestled just under Bucky's chin. ]

What d'you feel like hearing?

[ And he continues to kiss him, to lay lips along the edge of skin and fabric, as more buttons fall open with the careful twist and tug of his fingers. ]

Well I wasn't thinking about anything with words to it.

[Christ, Steve. Bucky keeps the lord's name quiet, but there's a hum of a plea on his lips at Steve's hands and mouth getting everywhere, touches at once too gentle and too much. The row of buttons are open only halfway to his waist before he won't take it anymore, and the hold he has on Steve's waist is enough to keep him close and lay him back.

Then it's a matter of seconds to get the damn shirt over his head and he's leaning down again, elbows and knees and a thigh pressed between Steve's like it's an accident.]

Something high pitched.

[ Steve's teeth press together, eyes suddenly bright, and his hips give a slow arch upwards in the pretense of getting comfortable. There is no getting comfortable on the floor, but the bed squeaks suspiciously and they don't want to give the neighbors any ideas. Besides, all the comfort he needs in in the heat pouring off Bucky's body, heat he soaks in through his hands as they run over his shoulders again and draw him in. ]

Picked the wrong dame for that one, Buck.

[ Because even for a little guy his voice seemed to echo his heart, the man he ought to have been in build rather than in spirit. Not that can't sing the tune he's after, but it's low sighs and soft groans, catching against Bucky's lips as his fingers card through the soft-clipped strands of dark hair he can reach. ]

[The floor's hard and Steve's got not much covering the bones he's pressing to it, but there's a suspicion in Bucky's mind that he won't get to keep this position too long. Might as well make the best of it.]

Must've been the dainty ankles distracted me.

[He's picked all the wrong dames, 'til now. And if Steve's trying to make out like Bucky can't make his voice catch up in a yelp then he'll take that one as a challenge. He's less graceful about getting Steve into the same state of undress, but no less smooth about it, working the top of his fly loose before rucking his hands in Steve's shirt and sliding them upward, bunching the cotton between finger and thumb.]

My ankles.

[ For some reason that's funny, and there's a breathless little laugh that catches in his throat, his skin prickling with the sudden chill of air as Bucky's hands shuck him free of his shirt. It's worth it, it'll be worth it, being able to touch skin to skin. Like he could pull Bucky into him and keep him, never to worry again about who found him wanting or undeserving. None of them knew.

None of them had the slightest idea, or he wouldn't have this. It feels oddly selfish, but it's what Bucky wants, too. So it's fine, it's all fine.

There's another short squirm as he helps to peel that shirt off, though it catches under his shoulder blades and lumps there like a cushion. A bit of his hair's standing up on end, but he's all bright eyes and want and admiration, and his teeth bite at the inside of his lip before his hands fall to that open fly to start plucking it open a little further. ]

Didn't know you were into that kind of thing. Ought to start rolling up my cuffs.

[It's all Bucky wants, in the flush of right now, of pressing himself up against Steve and making bodyheat a fair exchange. Say this for Steve, maybe he feels the cold more than most but he flushes like a furnace, and watching pink creep up under his collar's always been a pleasure Bucky takes in him. Now maybe he can trace just how far down that goes.

He's wanted Steve like this, if not in specifics then in sensation, for long enough that he can't stick a pin in when it started. They were still kids, though, when Bucky learned to play up any superficial bruises from those fights he got dragged into, just for the sensation of Steve's fingertips delicately pressing concern into his skin along with the antiseptic.

Steve's hands catching at the fastenings on his pants, then, that's something he has to stop and look at. He can't hide the way he's pressing against the seams, and he can't keep the catch out of his voice, for all he tries to keep cool about it -- teasing.]

Hey, you gotta save something for the bedroom. Can't drive me crazy all the time.

Want to bet?

[ He's got that bright look in his eyes, like he's on the verge of completing a dare, right as the fabric gives under his fingers. It feels like a dare now, seconds before he reaches past and his fingers find thin cotton and heat, hard heat, and it turns his stomach over and over again in little jumpy flip-flops.

He'd feel out every inch of him if he had the time. He knows he's nothing to look at, bones and skin even if he wasn't as small as he is, but Bucky's solid. Everything about him is solid and safe and warmth on warmth, and as sticky-hot as it is outside all he wants is to soak that heat up until he can't tell the difference between them anymore. ]

[Bucky laughs, teeth scraping against his lip all that keeps it from turning into a groan.]

No. Like I'm dumb enough to give you that challenge.

[He needs to leave the apartment sometime, all right? One of them's got art classes to pay for. And Bucky's got no kind of creativity that way, but for a second it's like he could sketch out exactly what Steve's hand's doing just from the feel of it, exactly the angle that his fingers curl. There's no asking if he's okay with this, as though Steve could ever be pushed into something he wasn't. Just a tightness across his chest that this is something that he does want.

And a flex of his hips forward, pressing into Steve's palm like a request.]

No. You're not that dumb.

[ Not much he can do, pinned down like this, but there's enough. He always makes his options work for him, and it's no different now. He rolls his palm up to let Bucky graze against it, firm friction through his underwear where he can feel him shifting underneath. Then he's grinding the heel of his palm up, fingers curling until the fabric goes taut, and he wants to see him.

Except he can't quite take his eyes off his face, sap that he is. Watching that heaviness play across Bucky's eyes and turn them dark, and the slack of his lips before he pulls his teeth across them, he'd rather be watching that. ]

Kinda feeling awful overdressed, though.

Yeah? [Tilting his head to look down at the way Steve's laid out beneath him, Bucky makes out for a second like it's some pushy request.] If they all knew what a dark horse you are, Rogers. Somebody lets you get a hand under their sweater they can forget the rest of their decency.

[His grin slips wide and then he's hooking a finger in the collar of Steve's shirt - thin cotton but far too many buttons - and starting to work it open as quick as his fingers will let him.]

Don't you even think about moving your hand.

[Because he's a little shameless in how he's rocking up against it, pausing to catch his lip against his teeth when the heel of Steve's palm slips over the cloth-outlined tip of his cock and then back again, a fine agony of friction.]

I want my mouth on you. [his hand slips, too eager, losing a button from Steve's shirt.] I never gave so much thought to how somebody could taste before - you're making me crazy, I hope you know.

Crazier, maybe. Can't take all the credit.

[ There will always be other buttons. There will be more summer days and sticky nights, and despite himself his mind wants to tailor a future full of these moments where it's just the two of them. The church says this is wrong, sinful and dark and shameful, but Bucky looking down at him like that is nothing but molten light pouring into his chest.

Nothing else could ever be right, not in quite the same way.

The rest of his skin is stained the same pink as his face, stretching down over his painfully thin chest. As if to distract them both Steve curls his fingers tighter, drawing upwards with a squeeze. ]

Look who you picked for a friend. Pretty crazy in my book.

Yeah well, all the trouble you go looking for, seems certain you'd have caught up with me in the end.

[He doesn't say more, about how if they hadn't met when they did he's sure they'd have met the next day, or the next, or fallen into the same class at school, or Steve'd have walked in for a job where Bucky was hauling boxes like he wouldn't get laughed right back out again, and Bucky'd have gotten stuck on him all the same.

They say you can choose your friends. Bucky's pretty sure that if there's a higher power out there, it picked Steve out and set him down right where they'd run into each other. It was a forgone thing.]

Interesting time to start insulting me, by the way.

[He laughs, low, and dips his head to kiss a trail down Steve's throat, pausing to lick the salt from the hollow at his collarbone, refusing to be distracted from the fine outline of the framework under his skin.

There are things which are all the more beautiful for being fragile, after all.]

Edited 2014-09-20 22:21 (UTC)

[ Oh, of that much he's certain. He honestly can't imagine growing up without Bucky, or going on without him. Maybe things wouldn't stay like this forever. They'd have to move on and grow up and find respectable lives at some point, and there'd be no more stolen evenings like this, sneaking around on the floor so that the bedsprings wouldn't creak and alert the neighbors. But searching his heart for an answer to what they were only told him that he was bound up in him, like some invisible string linking them together. No matter how long or short, its presence was there, right behind his ribcage.

He could feel it now with Bucky warm against his steadily stroking fingers. He felt it with his lips and tongue tickling a path down his throat, the light scratch of his jaw causing the scant hair on his arms and legs to prickle up. Swallowing faintly, he managed to keep his voice even. Somehow. ]

Could always find a way to shut me up.

[Bucky pauses partway through making a mapwork of Steve's chest - a course laid out by lip, teeth and tongue and set to memory as territory claimed for his own - looks up with a cant to his head, and grins.]

No, Stevie.

[his hands strike a path down Steve's sides to settle over his hips, and up over the jut of bone. there's barely a need to work on fastenings, the one credit to the fact that nothing he wears fits.

Bucky lowers his head as his hands work the fabric downward, ghosting a breath just below Steve's navel.]

You shutting up isn't what I'm hoping for at all.

[ There's a catch to his breath, teeth sinking in tight against his lower lip, as he fights to keep from squirming under that sudden warmth against his stomach. Not just the tickling sensation but the anticipation, the knowing exactly what path the other was taking and where he intended for it to end.

But the further down he went, the harder it was to keep his hands on him. So they let loose, slid up against his torso to curl his fingers and grasp at Bucky as the other proceeded to make his toes curl. Remember to breathe, Steve. No sense giving yourself an asthma attack in the middle of a perfectly good thing, here. ]

That a fact.

[ He'd come up with something more witty, but there's suddenly cool air against too-thin cotton, and if it weren't obvious how worked up Bucky had him already... ]

They’ve been on the road for months now, travelling from one place to another all across the country to garner support. It wasn’t as different from life in the palace as one might think. Politicking still happened, but with less guile, with less self-importance. David didn’t think himself better than any of the men who chose to follow him. He certainly didn’t think himself a king. But Jack saw it in him. Maybe it was that quality that made him react so violently against him when he first showed up in Shiloh. Whatever it was, Jack recognized the greatness in him, the depth of his goodness.

Like every other night, Jack set up his tent alone, away from the rest. Many of them still didn’t trust him. He’d long since gotten over the novelty of that. It wasn’t a cause to empty whatever bottle he could get his hands on and find ways to place blame for all his own bad decisions. That wasn’t to say it was easy. He was accustomed to be beloved for nothing but his family name and now he’s reviled for it. Sure, he could have walked away, joined his sister in her exile, and left David to do what he does. He didn’t need Jack’s help to inspire.

But Jack stayed. He stayed because he saw David as a friend. He stayed because he could help, maybe not now, but in the future. There was valuable insight in the less savoury nature of others Jack could offer. He knew treachery and plotting as easily as he knew to breathe. Thankfully, most of it was directed at him, not at David. It wouldn’t be long though. At this rate, Silas would see David for the threat he posed and send his spies and assassins to deal with the problem.

After the usual talks of plans and lofty ideals, conversation took a more casual turn. They ate around the campfire and disappeared one by one to their respective places or tents as the evening wore on. The others were mostly dispersed before Jack left his tent to sit by the fire. The food he made was hardly good and the coffee was bland, but it filled his belly and that was enough. Soldier taught him to be grateful for that. Life in Shiloh taught him to be grateful for David.

“You know they want to put a crown on your head,” he stated rather than asked, peering at the deep shadows the fire cast over David’s face. “There are worse things you can do than be a leader of men.”

[ They switch cars twice. It's under Natasha's advisement, and each time she puts her feet up on the dash as if she's the type to forget that he's said anything She smiles at him, sometimes, and she speeds just a little for it to seem convincing when she drives. (They haven't figured out Sam, yet. Pros and cons and weighing them; that takes a little while.)

They drive, and Natasha picks the next car, a pick-up. There are blankets in the backseat so Natasha suggests they eat their greasy gas-station burgers outside, and she slurps her milkshake noisily as they look up. ]

Look. Stars.

[ Honestly, she sounds kind of bored, but also she sounds the way she does when she needs to say something and hasn't' quite figured out how to get there just yet. ]

( under the night sky )

tj hammond • political animals

Late Night Swim

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Winter Soldier ★ MCU, CAWS

taylor ( star-crossed )

Thorin Oakenshield | The Hobbit | OTA

Campfire

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Mogget | Old Kingdom Trilogy

Elizabeth Woodville | The White Queen | OTA

Lily Evans | Harry Potter: Marauders Era | OTA

Molly Hooper | Sherlock | Completely OPEN

Judas Iscariot || Jesus Christ Superstar Arena Tour

Steve Rogers ★ Marvel Cinematic

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Minako Aino | Sailor Moon

stargazing with a side of ami doing homework? /i'm sorry minako

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hope you don't mind a Seiya! :)

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buffy summers ( buffy the vampire slayer )

Tetsuya Kuroko ( Kuroko no Basuke )

Gabe Goodman || Next to Normal || M/F for shipping, OTA overall

Chell | Portal | OTA

ian gallagher | shameless

Clara Murphy | Robocop (2014) | OTA

hayley marshall ✘ the originals

Fiyero Tiggular | Wicked | M/F

Bucky Barnes ★ MARVEL ★ ota

fireworks

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