bakerstreet | thursday picture prompt.

Apologizing's kinda my thing lately. [His mouth quirks up as he thinks of the therapy and the amends-making. And he's duly impressed by Faith's sauce-fu, something that makes him wonder just how much of her supposed 'disaster in the kitchen' thing is just her getting inside her own head too much.

They have that in common too, he'd be willing to bet.]

What you saw today, at the base. That's the tip of the iceberg. You'll see if you keep going with me. But you still won't see everything. You won't feel it. It's different now. It's like ... looking at a corpse and trying to imagine how they walked, or laughed.

[Shit, where is he even going with all this?]

That thing about falling, though, you're right. It's funny; this all started with a fall, off that damn train. Sometimes I think part of me's still there. Falling.

Ah. The twelve steps to recovery. Making amends? I mean, I walked into the mouth of hell for mine. After prison. And breaking out to stop my bff from his soulless reign of terror. Nearly dying during my mystical coma. Twisty road. Still walking it though. Think that's the thing that counts most.

[Faith wanted to be good in the kitchen. She really did. But ordering things was so much easier. No fear of failure. It was easier to own up to not being any good rather than trying and failing, rinse and repeat.]

What I saw today at the base was a man working through his demons. A man making the choice to keep that from happening to anyone else despite being ordered to do the opposite. You made the right choice. You did that. The stuff in your past, shit. You survived. Those weren't your choices. Your choice was taken from you. They basically raped your mind and soul. You didn't ask for it.

[Faith sighed and reached out a hand to rest against his arm. She specifically made sure to choose the arm he would actually feel. She wasn't sure if the connection was for her or for him. This had gotten way deeper than she'd anticipated. That fear of fucking it up was ever present.]

I don't know who you were before the train, but I got a taste of falling once. Nothing like what you went through. Point being, I wouldn't mind sticking around you for a while. I, uh. I've enjoyed my time with you. You get it. I can relate to you in some ways. Difference being, all the shit I did, I chose.

[He winces a little again at her words, not because they offend him but because they hit a little too true. She's right; he didn't choose this. But he still feels like he should have been able to stop it, somehow.

And then, when she touches his arm, he ducks his head shyly. But he doesn't pull away. It's awkward, but nice.]

You saw that? [He briefly wonders whether he should warn her about mentioning it to anyone, because it definitely was a breach of orders, but one thing about Faith he's pretty sure of is she's not a tattletale. She even seems... proud of him somehow.]

You didn't choose all of it, though. I, uh. I saw the stuff about Trick.

Slayers have real good night vision. One of the perks of vampires being your main target. Plus retrieval doesn't look like outright sabotage. Figured they'd need the chairs. The cryo equipment. And we smashed, trashed, and then blew it all to hell. Funny how random shit happens on jobs, ya know?

[It's not until he mentions Trick that she drops her hand from his arm. That's. Shit. She wasn't prepared for that one. It feels like he literally punched her straight in the chest with that metal arm of his.]

Wow. Your government guys are good. Did they tell you about Kakistos?

[Her hand leaves his arm and Bucky feels that familiar, instant pang of regret he recognizes from when he's really stepped in it. He's brought up something he knew would be painful but he hadn't realized how raw the wound still is for her.]

That was part of it. Yeah. Sorry.

[He's apologizing mostly for himself, but also, he guesses, for how annoyingly thorough those 'government guys' can be looking into someones past. Turning over all the rocks and making note of all the nasty things hiding underneath.]

It's just. Well ... you didn't really choose to be a Slayer, right?

[He knows about Kakistos. He knows how she ran. How she hid. How she watched as her very first Watcher, Diana, was killed in front of her. She wonders if the records about her mother and father were in there. How she was bounced from house to house, where the only thing that every stayed the same was that she wasn't wanted. The psych ward they put her into after she beat her mother's pimp to death. She'd been called at that point. Used her strength to pulverize the guy. No regrets. There was so much dirt they could find that even Buffy and Giles didn't know about.]

No, you get Chosen. It's supposed to be an honor. I was the last of the Slayer line to be activated by another Slayer's death.

[He nods a little, absorbing the info. It still seems kind of fantastical to him and he's sure there's a million other rules about all of it that she's leaving out, but the gist is neither of them really wanted to be where they ended up. He doesn't blame Faith for reacting to her childhood.]

I mean, honestly, it sounds a little like exploitation to me.

[But he can see how uncomfortable Faith is getting talking about this and realizes belatedly he should drop it.]

We should probably eat. Pelmeni's getting cold.

[Oh there's plenty she's leaving out, in part because she wants to know how much he knows, and in part because it's just a fucking downer. Living the deaths of previous Slayers every time you dream isn't cheerful conversation.]

Because it was put together by ancient men who enslaved a woman to make the first Slayer. Not exactly rainbows and butterflies. They sacrificed her to their ceremony, and she lived as intended from that point on. A killer. Hunted. Nothing fair about it.

[Despite how hungry she'd been, she'd nearly forgotten the pelmeni. Faith nods and grabs a bowl. It doesn't really matter which one because they were both equally portioned.]

Not a lot of people know my history. Can I trust you?

[Well, at least she wasn't insulted by his stunning insight. And at least she takes the dinner and doesn't just throw it right in his face. Bucky relaxes minutely, even if the subject matter has not been all that relaxing. The hunter and the hunted, the captive weapon. Yeah. Sounds familiar.

The question's a loaded one and Bucky isn't sure how to answer it for a moment. He takes the time to pick up his own bowl.]

More than them.

[Faith is mostly still trying to process what he knows and what he doesn't know. It's not like she's going to ask and open doors that have been sealed shut for decades now. She's not that much of a masochist. In fact, she's already trying to figure out how to put extra locks on the damn things.]

Alright then. That's gonna have to be good enough. Pelmeni is good.

[The files are usually pretty thorough, although only Faith would really know how thorough in her own case. To Bucky it always felt like an uncomfortable amount of information. Especially his file, a folder a hell of a lot thicker than Faith's could probably ever get.

He takes a bite from his own bowl, grateful again for the distraction. She's not wrong; this batch of pelmeni came out pretty well.]

Yeah. You did a good job, dough girl.

[She's uncomfortable, and it feels like her skin is a little too tight. Buffy and the others had never known the full extent of things, they hadn't known what damage was done and by whom, but the government knew. CPS had gotten involved and it was on record. Her mother's cause of death would be known. The police reports on her would be readily available. Better to focus on the food, and not on the shit going through her skull.]

Dough girl? Not sure how I feel about that. Actually, as long as no one is poking me in the belly trying to get me to laugh, I think I can live with it.

[Bucky has the good grace to blush. Good job, Barnes, you've made the situation even more awkward.]

Oh, god. Sorry. No, that sounded terrible. I just meant ... because you made the dough....

[Truth is, he's going to have fond memories of Faith with flour in her hair for a very long time]

[The stricken expression on his face is enough to make her forget her own bullshit and she laughs. And then laughs some more. There are tears in her eyes, her hand resting against him for balance, until she remembers she has to breathe.]

You're fine, Buck. Seriously. Fuck, I needed that.

[He's not sure he understands why she's laughing, suspects it may be him, but it's better than the alternative. Bucky smiles uneasily, piles some more pelmeni into his mouth so his foot can stay out of it.

There's a tiny table with two rickety chairs in a corner of the kitchen, kind of a dining nook. Bucky, mouth still full, jerks his head in that direction before heading there himself.

After a moment's hesitation, he brings the vodka bottle along.]

[Wiping the moisture from her eyes with the hand not holding her bowl, Faith follows his lead and moves over toward the table. The vodka bottle seems like an unfair advantage. He can't get drunk. It takes a lot of liquor, but she can. Eventually.

It might be nice to let loose a little. Not like she's got an early flight to catch or anything.]

So, what's next for you?

[It depends on what you call an advantage. Bucky sure as hell wishes he could get drunk. He doesn't have any ulterior motives here; he's pretty sure other than water, the only beverages on hand here are bound to be alcoholic.]

More of the same. There're still a few labs left out there to secure. HYDRA liked to spread out its resources.

Not sure how many of them will end up having vampires.

[There's a lot he's leaving out, and his tone is almost wistful. He's not really a fan of being beholden to the government, constantly dragged back into his past. He knows he has to, not just because they tell him to but because anyone else they sent in might not have the same goals he does. In other words, they might actually not be secret saboteurs trying to keep the serum out of everyone's hands.]

Sounds like loads of fun. Minus any actual fun.

[Faith shoves a forkful of food into her mouth. As she chews, she studies him. She feels out of her depth here. Vampires are easy, they want blood. Some of them get uppity and try to take over the world like Angelus, but for the most part they're kind of one track minded.

The secret world of spies and military agents, assassins and Avengers, it's beyond her.]

You ever think about sending someone else to do the dirty work?

No.

[The answer is quick, brusque. Probably more brusque than he meant. He was going more for emphatic.]

I'm their best option. Besides, it's not like I really have a choice. I'm still paying off some debts.

[She knows a thing or two about paying off debts. She's still doing it, too. It's something she's thought about a lot since pairing up with him. Eventually, she was going to have to get over it. Learn from the mistakes and move on. Guilt is a tricky thing though. It latches on and leeches from every accomplishment, every good thing in your life, and turns it into something that's harder to swallow.

It wasn't a life. And she kind of wanted to live a little without the fear of making the wrong decisions again. She could safely say she'd learned her lesson, but Bucky was a different story. He was carrying the guilt as if he'd been the one calling the shots when it was really HYDRA.

Poor guy was living in a walking hell. Made sense why he was so determined to destroy anything related to the super soldier program, and HYDRA.]

Are they at least giving you backup for some of the other bases?

Edited 2025-08-26 13:31 (UTC)

[The problem is the memories. Even if in his mind he knows, has been told over and over ad nauseum, that it's not his fault, that it wasn't him-- Bucky can still close his eyes and remember every face of every person he killed. Because it was him, a part of him, and it always will be. Some part of him allowed this all to happen.

Now he just shrugs.]

Some of them. Depends on what's going on with them. This one had vampires, so they thought about pairing up with a Slayer.

[Then, more hesitantly:]

Were you still thinking about coming with?

The real question is, do you still want me? I want to come, although I don't think my reasons are a hundred percent selfless. So. Offer still stands. Just thought you should know what you were signing up for.

[This wasn't her redemption arc. It was his. She wanted to be there to witness him kicking ass and taking names, and maybe make sure he didn't get too lost on the way. She wanted to be a help. Pay it forward like Angel had.

Wasn't that selfish?]

And to sell my charming personality for long term exposure, I'll tell you I know how to bathe, and I don't think I snore.

What, a girl who can kick ass and help cook?

[Bucky doesn't know what she thinks might have changed on his end. He would have figured the opposite, really. But maybe that's because he doesn't understand why anyone would want to hang around him.]

I can vouch for you, no problem. They like when they actually find a partner I can get along with.

And for the record, I'm probably a way worse sleeper than you. I don't snore, but I've been known to scream.

[His response is unexpected and very welcome. She was upfront, and he rolled with it. She was used to guys who played games. Bucky wasn't anything like that. He was refreshing. And, if she played her cards right, he might even be a friend.

Faith's trademark smirk slid onto her lips.]

Yeaaaah. See, I wasn't going to mention that. It doesn't always happen, but we can scream together.

[Since the fall of Sunnydale and the activation of all potential Slayers, the nightmares had gotten worse. Living the death of Slayers before you was a real learning experience. Some lessons worse than others.

Faith cleared her bowl and let it sit there while she reached for the bottle of vodka.]

Now that we've got that settled, a drink to our future adventures?

[Was he ever a guy who played games? Sometimes Bucky wonders, can't quite remember the man he used to be. The nightmares, the flashbacks, seem much more real than his previous life. In vivid color as opposed to something seen through a sepia haze. He reaches out to lightly rest his fingers on Faith's hand, the one on the vodka bottle.]

I'm sorry. For all of that. [Bucky wouldn't wish it on anyone. The sleepless nights, broken up by even worse dreams.]

Lemme go grab the glasses. We do this, we do this right.

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