bakerstreet | OTHERWORDLY.

[ But that's it, ain't it. He's Steve, but he's also not perfect, just pushes himself further than anyone else, and it's on the rest of them to keep up however they can. He casts a sideways glance at her. ]

We coulda lost worse.

[ The guns, the ones that shot blue instead of bullets, which Stark was still trying to figure out — they'd gotten damn lucky. Better the binoculars than an arm, or one of the team. ]

Could have. Certainly.

[ assent. peggy nods -- then at long last lowers herself to first kneel on the floorboards, then swing her heels forward so she could sit with her knees hugged against her chest. ] I never took you for a count your blessings sort, Barnes.

[ and yet she's impressed by such optimism. heartened by it, even. ]

Edited 2015-05-28 21:46 (UTC)

That's cos I ain't, [ he answers, with a dry chuckle. ] just keeping my feet on the ground.

[ They can't afford to carry too much: the words of loved ones next to their hearts and that's it. Because if he pushes that gap wider to fit all the sons and brothers and fathers he's killed, wonders if they were just as scared, every piece of could've, should've, and must've, it will come closing in on all of them, mercilessly. ]

[ his chuckle meets with her soft hum. a barely-there mmhm of agreement -- and an immediate silence that sounds much more like a clerkish mind recording details. filing away facts.

peggy knits her fingers together against her shins. and she asks: ] How old were you when you enlisted?

[ He's faintly amused, no idea where she's going with this line of thinking, but it'd be a nice game to while away the time. Always liked the smart dames better, though he thinks they probably don't care for him as much. ]

Twenty-five.

[ Enlisted. Hah. ]

Why do you ask?

[ a strange mixture of delight and reproach seized her expression. floated through her eyes. peggy knows better to underestimate barnes's intuition -- or the intuition of any man who'd clawed his way to a non-commissioned rank. most (most) sergeants worth their salt had a glimmer within of the same things that made intelligence officers so slippery: a means of reading through the shite and hearing the suspicion below.

fortunately, peggy's suspicion was all but harmless. ] We could have lost worse. [ a poor repetition of his own words. ] That's what you said. An odd blend of realism and optimism all at once -- and one not always shown by those who enlisted on account of the war. [ versus those who'd already been in fatigues, whether by career or necessity. ]

There's something very regular army about you, Barnes. [ perhaps that's why she likes his company so. ]

[ The corner of his mouth quirks up. ]

[ Cheeky, ] Sayin' I'm ordinary?

[ She's saying he's a good soldier. There's nothing more terrifying. Were he aware that he becomes the twentieth century's most efficient one, he'd laugh. Steve's the one who's born for this fight, bright with not a speck of the rot that's the War eating him through. He has bad days, sure, but Steve's resilience is one learnt over twenty four years of anger and pain at a body that always betrayed him, and he suspects the same is true of her. As for the rest of them, they're having their trial by fire, and God, they've been damned lucky so far. All it takes is a bullet. ]

Maybe you've just got a thing for fellas from Brooklyn. Ever think a'that?

[ A small, fond smile follows the statement. She wants his cards on the table, typical spy. He respects that, and he respects her, but if she wants a straighter answer she's going to have to fish a little more for it. ]

[ she laughs. chin dropping -- a sigh covering up the brunt of her chuckle. peggy's decorum rebels against so simple a verdict but...yes, there's a certain charm newly found in that borough. she had spent enough time in the backs of cars with steve, watching the same alleyways he'd always known with her own fresh eyes. a grimy beautiful awful thrilling bit of city. like a more earnest london. ]

I'm saying there's a modicum of grace found in the ordinary. Nothing less.

Edited 2015-05-29 11:16 (UTC)

[ He mirrors her smile, drawing a leg up to his chest and folding the other under it: a neutral position, neither threatening nor vulnerable. ]

Beauty in small places? That your specialty?

[ It's a little romantic, he has to admit. It's not what he expected of the always-coiffed Agent Carter, but it wouldn't be the first time the outside doesn't match the inside. ]

Details, sergeant. [ the apprehension isn't thick in her voice. but it's present. there's a narrow line found between saying something aloud, and knowing a man already knows it. ] My speciality lies in the details. They needn't always be beautiful.

[ but it's better when they are. call it her own meagre optimism -- one that grows with every day spent in captain america's company. ]

[ Aim somewhere else is the warning, and he heeds it. For all he likes to push, there's limits. And some people, they don't need it. ]

No, they needn't. [ he tries out her vowels for good measure, his gaze turning distant, as he glances out of the glassless window, towards the hills. ] Most of the time, they ain't. Just how it is.

[ And the ball's back in her side of the court, he suspects, just the way she likes it. ]

[ another hollow laugh. did she really sound like that? no. not at all. his approximation makes it sound somehow stranger. ]

I joined up straight after Middle Sixth. [ -- she offers this kernel of her own history. her own life. its not exactly a fair trade, as were they anywhere but lost behind enemy lines she might have been able to access barnes's file at any time. she might have learned for herself the exact day he'd enlisted. her own file, however...

peggy watches him while he watches the hills. ] St. Martin's is an all-girls academy. Imagine the culture shock to be suddenly in the army instead. I must have been daft to choose it--

[ and yet she shows no regret. not an ounce. ]

[ He turns to look back at her as she speaks, rapt at attention. ]

We invented the Lindy Hop. Safe t'say we're all a little [ a short pause, then, deliberately, ] daft around these parts. [ simpler to think they're both just two members of the same unit, in a little tug of war to find the perfect equilibrium. Anything less could mean death out here. ] So why not the WACs?

[ The question comes with a curious glance. ]

WRACs. [ the correction is a little thing. barely important, except the 'r' stood for 'royal' and it sometimes did her good to remind the americans surrounding her that she wasn't always attached to their units. she might have grown more and more accustomed to their ways and words and wiles, but peggy carter is a liaison first and foremost.

or had been. loyalties are tricky things once the heart gets involved. ] And I imagine they would have welcomed me with open arms had -- British Intelligence not earmarked me otherwise.

[ what a broad term. british intelligence. she says it now because she still can't quite admit to bletchley park, so cloaked in secrecy it had been. ]

WRACs, [ he corrects himself, mildly. Even if it's the same thing to him: an instrument of war. ] sounds like a story. You should tell it after the war.

[ After, like their futures aren't a blank, maybe when Steve's worked up the courage to ask Peggy to marry him. Like all this — won't haunt them at all. Bucky's not one for such indulgences. That's what it is, shameless sentiment. He believes what's there and what he has to, to keep going. Nothing more, or less. ]

Why, so you might repeat it ad nauseam to any pretty pair of ears who'll listen? Gather up their favours with tales of daring war-time ladies whose gentle resilience you see reflected in them? [ her lips curled up into a smirk. the words aren't harsh. they aren't even true. tonight, she expects she can trust barnes with vague outline of her secrets. he's a rake, but he's a loyal one. she sees that when he stands by steve. ]

I'll be damned before I'm nostalgic fodder for your pick-up lines. [ but her judgement and her ire are non-existent. an honest brightness persists in her eyes. as though (beneath the uniform and the resolute duty) peggy carter enjoys a good bit of teasing. ]

I do like talking about myself, [ he replies, with a light smirk of his own. ] and I managed melting all the dames in Brooklyn single-handed for nine years, Carter. I imagine I'll do just fine.

[ The smirk softens to genuine amusement; he's laughing silently. ]

Though I wouldn't say no if you wanted to talk me up.

All of them? Good Lord.

[ disbelief mingles with amusement mingling once again with mild admiration. hyperbolic, obviously. but she fed into that hyperbole in favour of even suggesting she might ever 'talk him up' -- despite the fact that, day by day, she feels herself liking the sergeant more and more. ]

[ He just winks at her. Nothing in it about how the War's transmuted that ability, shifted it to something less simply wielded, hungrier, pushed him towards the line between the grey and dark places. ]

I could charm the trousers off Mussolini. [ it's no boast of his own: Steve is responsible for this particular description. He makes a show of being thoughtful ] Maybe I should. Just drop me in Italy would ya? War'll be over in a day.

[ As for Schmidt and Hitler, well, ain't nothing nobody can do for them. ]

Our hero, Bucky Barnes. [ she tips her hand in a budget-version of a salute. more importantly, she slides her identification of him firmly into the realm of the familiar. the casual. distanced only a little by an exaggerated hypothetical, but generous all the same. ]

Where should they erect the statue, hmm? [ of him, for all his selfless trouser-charming. ]

[ Generous indeed. Something lights up in his eyes, and softens the lines on his face. Even if that old name is far away, on his bad days, feels like a ghost, it's still his memory: of a better time. ]

In the living room, so I can preen every morning. What d'you say?

[ The joke here is: there'll be statues of Steve, meant to be someone, like Bucky always knew he'd be someone. Him, maybe he'll be lucky to get a footnote. But that's not why he's here and it tastes too much like jealousy, which he can't entertain towards the only friend he's ever had. ]

A touch selfish, isn't it? [ generosity rounded out by mock-scolding. she doesn't let a mood settle. not long enough to adapt to it, at least. ] Locking what will doubtless be a grand work of art in your lounge, unshared with the rest of us?

[ and yet she understands. similarly, her lot in this war is not to exceed the pinnacle that will be captain america. she is a strut; a support; an important piece in a larger puzzle. her pride can withstand such a blow, because that's how she's been trained. ever the agent, never the hero. ]

[ Step by step, marching in tune with her, trading friendly barbs. Best place to be, second only to being next to Steve. ]

[ Without missing a beat, ] Your living room, then.

[ hah! she could turn, now. curl her lip and refuse to play along with such a ridiculous notion. but that would gain her nothing -- and she'd quite like to maintain a working relationship with the sniper, if not a fully-fledged friendship. ]

Ah, perhaps. [ deadpan. ] Provided it doesn't require too much polishing. I'm a busy woman, I'll remind you.

[ He laughs again, silently, stopping only for his requisite glance out towards the hills. The world out there is dark, and still. ]

Oh, you don't need to worry. I feed and walk myself, too.

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and mcu gives him three different birth years well done

ugh those villains.

timelines /jazz hands

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enjoy this daring foray into headcanon :|

you live dangerously

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