[open] gonna live my life like i'm gonna die young

[anotheroldsoldier]

who: Bucky Barnes [616] and YOU
what: Catch-all for fireflies stuff and misc. If you want a specific prompt, hit me up at nekky
when: Next to last week of April and into May
where: Various
warnings: None atm.

[OOC NOTE: Bucky is out of the city on a mission from April 23-29, returning on the 29th. Any other date in April or May is fine. For the fireflies prompts, if you want red/lust, please hit me up on plurk or discord (nekky#8210) first, and it's only open to 21+ characters who already have positive cr with Bucky.]

[Parking Garage, Any Date]
[Apparently, Bucky has done enough that when his motorcycle came through the portal, the guards brought it down to the parking structure beneath the housing building and left him a glowing note with the keys. He's pleased, despite himself. It means he doesn't have to save up for one from this place, and if he's honest, he's fond of this particular bike.

It's gleaming cherry red and chrome, the frame a bit vintage - it's an Indian brand, likely a Scout model, but it's clearly had a lot of work and upkeep done on it, and plenty of upgrades. He's got it parked in a space near the wall, and two helmets hung on hooks nearby it, which he'd had to purchase in Riverview. Not that he usually wears one. He lives on the edge.

In the early afternoons, or the evenings, if he isn't on patrol with the Guard, he can be found in the parking garage, knelt down on the concrete in thrift store jeans and an oil-stained white t-shirt, working on his baby. He always seems to be in a good mood at these times, occasionally even humming something under his breath, or playing the radio at a reasonable volume on something that sounds like classic rock.]

[Pest Control Service]
[Despite being part of Search and Rescue specifically, Bucky works with the general Perimeter Guard often. It gives him more to do; he's always happy to get out and get to work. While other teams handle the docile behemoth, Bucky enlists to deal with the suddenly aggressive six-limbed creatures whose homes have been disturbed.

Considering the well-camouflaged nature of the creatures, he's chosen not to go out as Captain America, instead wearing clothes more typical of the Perimeter Guard to blend in better in the jungle. He still carries the shield on his back, and a rifle in his hands, not to mention the handgun at his hip, the knife attached to his thigh, the smaller knife in his boot... etc.

Trekking through the underbrush, he turns to his companion on this little trip and says lowly,] Keep your ears peeled. There was a group of them spotted in this area.

[A Gym Near Communal Housing, Early Mornings]
[Bucky likes this gym best out of the few nearby that he's tried. It's on the way to the Perimeter Guard HQ, near enough to the communal housing building, and blessedly quiet in the mornings. He gets up early to go running with Steve or Yuri, and then he hits the gym before work, which is usually about empty. What he works on depends on the day.

Today, the knuckles of his right hand are wrapped, and he's been training on the punching bag, working through a series of rapid, efficient punches and kicks. His fists pound against the vinyl of the bag hard, over and over, pummeling it without worrying about holding back. He's strong, and not just because of the gleaming metal arm, visible since he's wearing a sweat-drenched tank top instead of sleeves.

Eventually, though, the left fist punches a hole through it, and it sadly leaks sand onto the mat. He sinks back onto his ass on the mats, running his fingers through his sweaty hair.] Fuck me.

[Floor 5 Balcony, Any Date]
[Sometimes in the evenings, he hangs out on the deck with a beer, watching the sun sink below the horizon and the stars start to come out. The sky is different out here; occasionally he still looks for Earth's moon before he remembers that this isn't his galaxy and they're on a moon already. The ball in the sky is an unfamiliar planet in the distance. He picks out constellations with a beer in his hand, feet kicked up as he lounges on a deck chair, and he's usually amenable to someone joining him in these quiet moments.]

[Fireflies, Any Date]
[In May, Bucky's routine remains much the same. He gets up painfully early to run, he goes to the gym, makes breakfast on Floor 5, he goes to work with the Perimeter Guard. He goes out on patrols sometimes. He brings back dinner or he cooks himself (and whoever else might be around) something in the evenings. He sits on the deck in the evenings, or he watches a bit of TV in the shared living room. He grocery shops and walks around the city on his days off, stopping in to whatever shop looks interesting. It leaves plenty of time out of the apartment to be bitten by the strange insects.

RED: Lust is unlikely, as he has a low sex drive on a good day. When bitten by a red firefly, he's more quick to anger, and that scrappy teenager he used to be comes out - he'll fight anybody. Make sure you know what you're getting into.
ORANGE: The biggest change is probably when one of these has gotten pincers into him. Where normally he's taciturn and keeps his secrets with deft avoidance, he'll be more honest, more willing to just sit and talk.
YELLOW: Anxiety is more common than outright fear, and it manifests with a big dose of paranoia. He's warier, cagier, with the watchful eye of a soldier. He's a little more obvious about checking entrances and exits, looking for escape routes.
GREEN: His jealousy tends to be a quiet thing, and can manifest over just about anything.
BLUE: Grief is something he has in spades already. Blue firefly bites take a while to go away, for him. He grows melancholy and self-hating, tending to sequester himself away from others to ruminate on his guilt. He also drinks heavily to escape the feeling. Maybe you run into him while he's on his way to a sad drunkenness.
VIOLET: Bucky's affection is also a quiet thing. He's more likely to touch, and he's surprisingly gentle. He's more likely to smile, and laugh. But his touches stay generally platonic and friendly.

These are pretty vague so feel free to start something anywhere, or hit me up on plurk or discord to plot something specific!]

Comments

For Tony Stark [616]

[anotheroldsoldier]

[Bucky has been out in the jungle lately with the guard for various reasons. He's been back from his end-of-month mission for a few days when he catches Tony in the living area of their shared floor. He's fresh from the shower after the gym, and the tell-tale orange smear of a firefly that bit him on his way back home is already gone. If the effects are starting to kick in, he doesn't really realize it yet.]

Hey, Tony, I'm glad I caught you. Do you have time? My arm has been acting up since I got back, I was wondering if you could take a look at it.

[amelioraate]

[ There is some cold coffee at his elbow, and an array of tools scattered across the table in the kitchen when Bucky walks in. Tony doesn't notice him at first, picking away at the tiny wires inside what looked to be a pair of VR goggles (which, once upon a time, they were, but Tony as repurposing them, thank you very much).

It isn't until Bucky says his name that the genius startles a bit and blinks back into the real world, and focuses on Bucky.]

Huh, what-- oh! Do I have time, psh. You know I will make time for your amazing arm. [ He smirks, pushing back and waving a tiny screwdriver at Bucky.] And you, I guess. You want me to take a look now?

[anotheroldsoldier]

[Bucky smirks just slightly at the picture Tony makes, absorbed in his work. He takes the pot of coffee from the warmer and tops off the engineer's cup before he pulls out a chair at the table and strips off his shirt.]

Thanks, I appreciate it. Now would be great. [He angles himself to the side, rests the bionic arm on the tabletop.] The elbow joint has been a little stiff, and I'm getting the occasional twinge of feedback off the fingers. Might've messed something up out in the jungle.

[amelioraate]

[ It doesn't take Tony long to push the goggles and the tangle of wires and soldering tools off to the side to make room for Bucky. He realizes as he moves to take a look at it, popping the panels on it, that this is the first time he has looked at it since they were dropped into this universe.

He missed the quieter moments with Bucky.]

Just the elbow and feedback? And what the hell did you do on that road trip, pile drive a dinosaur?

[ Which, honestly, he could see Bucky doing. He starts poking around, humming a little as he slips easily into the familiarity of the actions.]

You want anything else tweaked? Rection time still okay?

For Steve Rogers [616] and Michael Scofield

[anotheroldsoldier]

[Sometimes it's nice to spend a night in with company. He and Steve had been out earlier, despite the plague of rainbow-colored fireflies flitting around outside (it's nearly impossible to not get bitten by one or the other), and Bucky rented a couple of movies - a black and white 'classic', a comedy, and an action movie. Now they've roped Michael into hanging out with them back on floor 5, while the rest of the floor is quiet.

Bucky is in the kitchen at the stove, popping corn the old-fashioned way in a covered pot, with real butter and sea salt on the counter next to him.]

So which one do you guys want to watch? [Bucky is in an easy mood tonight, relaxed and about as happy as he ever seems. He's always pleased to be hanging out with Steve, and Michael is a welcome addition to their routine. He's enjoyed his company quite a bit since they met.]

[prisonking]

I'm voting comedy.

[ Michael could use a pick-me-up. Thanks to his broken ankle, he's been more or less stuck inside and on crutches. Michael can't really complain about the expedited healing process. In just a week he'll be good as new, no physio required, but in the meantime he has to treat his casted foot like it's made of glass. ]

Thanks for asking me to hang out guys. A guy only has so much lint in his navel.

[ Michael has never enjoyed his own company, and jumped at the opportunity to get a break from himself. With everyone so busy at work, or training, he'd spent the past few days alone.

On the plus side, he hadn't gotten bitten by anything.

He hobbles past Bucky to rummage around in the fridge for the six-pack of beer he'd stashed away weeks earlier, propping the door open with his hip, and balancing precariously on one crutch.

Michael's never been great at following the doctor's orders. ]

[livingsymbol]

Comedy sounds good. We could all use something lighter.

[After the incident in the tunnels, Steve has been checking in on the floor more often, just making sure everything is going okay at home. He's not monitoring Michael exactly, but he's checking on him, because Steve has learned that his floor is possibly the most reckless bunch of people in the whole building. Which means Michael will be getting restless and need at least someone to drop by to hang out.

Thankfully Bucky is around to help. Steve follows Michael to the fridge and pulls the door back slightly so he isn't trying to balance it like that.]

You know, I don't mind carrying that over.

[anotheroldsoldier]

[Bucky won't admit it either, but he drops in on Michael a few times himself, brings back lunch for him and little things that can't be construed as fussing. He's not fussing, not really. Just looking out for a friend.] The least we can do is keep you company, since you hurt your foot on this lug's watch. [It's lightly teasing, no heat or real blame to it. He knows better than anyone that Steve would go to the ends of the earth for someone out on the field. The man once ran him five miles to a doctor when he'd been shot, carting him bridal-style.

He looks up from the popcorn as Michael gets into the fridge and Steve props open the door. Bucky shakes the pan to distribute the kernels evenly as they pop.]

I'm already up, I coulda gotten it.

For Sam Wilson

[anotheroldsoldier]

[He's not sure what comes over him. Wiping away the smear of a blue firefly swatted off his neck, the feeling that washed over his consciousness was not good. A wave of melancholy, of the sucking depression that he tries so hard to push away. It's not an unheard of occurrence, honestly. He doesn't even think to blame the bug. It feels like homesickness, and he's had plenty of that since his arrival in Riverview Quarantine.

He misses his team. He misses his apartment. He misses Natasha.

Bucky stops in at a bar near to the housing on the way home. It's a small, dingy dive, perfect to match his sour mood. He's perched on a bar stool, about four whiskeys in when someone familiar comes through the door. He probably looks a sight, his hair mussed from where he's dragged his hand through it, mouth downturned, another drink in front of him with the empty glasses of his previous ones.

He knocks the two fingers of amber liquid back in one gulp, and the glass clinks against the sticky wood when he sets it down. It's still not enough to push back the memories.]

[wingedman]

[Sometimes Sam drops by bars to drink - whether he wants to be around people, watch what passes for sports in Riverview, or only because they're out of beer at home and he wants something cold before he pops a six-pack in the fridge. Which, judging by the beer he has in hand, is the case today. But he doesn't even remember what he stopped in here for when he spots Bucky looking like shit, a graveyard of shot glasses in front of him.]

You doin' all right? [Sam slides onto the stool next to him, quietly sets his beer on the floor. The answer is obvious, but that doesn't mean he's not going to ask. Besides, it looks like someone needs to cut Bucky off.]

[anotheroldsoldier]

[His reaction times are slowed by drink, and he startles slightly when Sam slides onto the stool beside him. But he recovers quickly, sliding his current empty glass to join the rest. The bartender eventually comes by to gather them up, and he orders another whiskey, neat.]

Yeah, yeah I'm alright. [He says, and he manages not to slur his words. He's not quite that far gone, good at holding his liquor. It just means he needs more to drive out the intrusive memories.]

[wingedman]

Uh-huh.

[Sam's good enough at reading body language to know when he's being lied to, and he just raises an eyebrow. He lets him get away with ordering another drink, but he's determined to cut him off after this.]

Sure you are. You just decided to down five or six shots of whiskey on your way home for no real reason.

Parking Garage; Early afternoon; Early May

[bringbackgold]

[ Otabek had been lucky. Lucky enough that in the days after Yuri presented him with the keys to his motorcycle, he wanted to - for the first time ever - gloat about how awesome his friend was. But he didn't. He didn't fully understand how it had made it's way through the portal and presented itself to Yuri, but he had no complaints. He was just glad to have it, it was something he enjoyed spending time doing. He parked his bike in one of the motorcycle spots in the parking garage. On the seats rested two helmets. The first came in a solid black - it had come with the bike. The other was very clearly intended for a very specific person - and the only other person Otabek would invite on his bike.

He had finished his morning training, and wanted to go for a ride before having to get ready for work. It was relaxing and it made him feel ready for the day.

Beyond where his bike was parked, he saw someone familiar, working on his own bike. It sparked an interest in him. He didn't stop at his own bike, walking past to check out what Bucky had in front of him.

He paused, and although his expression was typical - flat, almost void of emotion - he seemed to at least be happy. ]

Nice bike.

[ He means it, even if it doesn't necessarily sound like it to an untrained ear.

[anotheroldsoldier]

[Bucky sits back when Otabek approaches, cheek smudged with grease and a few tools scattered on the concrete near a brand-new tool box. (He'd had to go buy one, to keep from borrowing Tony's all the time.) There's a faint sort of pride in his expression as he stands up, one hand on the leather seat of his bike.]

Thanks. She's had a lot of work done. This model's not in production anymore.

[bringbackgold]

I can tell.

[ He eyes the bike, but keeps a little bit of distance. He doesn't want to encroach on Bucky's space. He knows he wouldn't want anyone in his space while working on his bike. Still, it's curious. He likes motorcycles, of course, they're another thing he enjoys. He doesn't really work on his own much beyond the basics, mostly because he didn't want to break something. ]

Did the work yourself, I assume?

[anotheroldsoldier]

[He steps back just a half-step, body language open to indicate it's fine if Otabek wants to get a better look. This bike is his baby, after all, and he's proud of it. He enjoys being on it.] Most of it, but I also know an engineer, he made a few upgrades.

[Bucky glances back in the direction Otabek had come from, nods toward the bike there.] That one yours?

Pest Control

[howlongiwonder]

Got it. I'll let you know if I detect any hostiles.

[2B nods as she speaks quietly. Despite the woman's really impractical choice of attire she didn't seem to have problems traversing the terrain so far, blindfold and all. Two large swords are secured on her back, waiting for a chance to bite into the monsters. She on the other hand doesn't share the enthusiasm - but it's important work. She'll do it, and she won't complain.]

We should stay close, support each other in case of an attack.

[anotheroldsoldier]

Roger that. [Strange attire, maybe, but he hasn't asked, about that or about the swords she's carting around, even if he thinks guns are more practical. Then again, he's the guy who throws around a shield like an oversized frisbee, so can he really talk about practicality?]

Yeah, I'm not sure how I feel about just traipsing around waiting for an ambush, though. We could try to drive them out.

[howlongiwonder]

Good idea.

[She glances around quickly. On one hand, there's only the two of them here so no creatures are around yet. But on the other, there's only the two of them here. That limits your options somewhat.]

How would we get around doing that? Any plans?

GYM

[unmakeme]

It's not her gym. It's right next to housing, and she walks past it most days, but she usually doesn't stop. Then again, usually she doesn't catch the glint of light on a metal arm, attacking a punching bag. It's reflected at an odd angle, two mirrors and out through the windows, but she still recognizes the arm. Mostly. Bucky, and not Bucky, and her mind provides her helpfully with the man from the Perimeter. Bucky yet not Bucky.

There's no reason to not just keep on walking, continue to her own gym and get in her morning workout and settle her day back into the track she's set for it in her mind. In fact, there are plenty of reasons to keep walking, and her hand unconsciously moves to rub her stomach, her own reminder of what happens when you-- nope. Not going down that train of thought. Very much going into the gym, though, it seems, since her hand is already on the handle, and then she's through the door. She buys a day pass, and finds the reflection again, following it back, making sure that wherever she steps, she's never looking at a reflection of his face, that he's never looking at hers. Easy to do, with blind spots, and some combination of her own stealth skill and his focus on the task at hand puts her in the room with him, unnoticed while he's still going to town on the bag. Until he breaks through it. There's a little twist of recognition, and she shoves it away.

She waits for him to notice her, and he doesn't. She watches him fall back, dripping sweat and staring at the bag, stuck in some loop in his own mind. "You're going to have to punch a much smaller hole for that," she says in response to his comment, obviously not meant for her ears, and just as obviously not directed at the bag.

[anotheroldsoldier]

Bucky is normally very much aware of his surroundings, but he's already growing comfortable here in this small gym. Without his own private facilities, the level of quiet this one can usually offer makes it feel the closest to home. Not many people stop by this time of morning, they're usually having breakfast or making their morning commutes, and so he isn't looking for anyone else to join him in the room. Still, to his credit, he doesn't startle when he hears her voice. He doesn't react outwardly at all, save for a mildly unpleasant twist to his lips at the comment she makes. It's a little jarring, feels a little wrong.

He stands up after a moment, and unwinds the tape from around his bruised right hand. "What do you want?" It's an attempt at civility, but his tone is distant, detached. He has to detach himself from this situation to keep his head. "If you want a turn at the bag, I'll have to hang a new one." And pay for this ruined one up at the desk. He feels a little bad.

[unmakeme]

"Thanks, but I prefer to hit things that try to hit back." She doesn't necessarily look like she's going to stay. She hasn't set down her gym bag, hasn't even ventured more than a few feet into the room. She's watching him, her focus is mostly on his metal arm, and trying desperately to figure out the odds against two different sets of people coming up with the same sick idea and having the power to implement it. What are the chances? How different can he really be, with so much the same? If he's familiar with the way his Natasha looks when something is bothering her and she's trying to pretend that it isn't, maybe he'll recognize the look on her face. Maybe he won't. She's good at keeping what she's thinking so well hidden as to be invisible, but this is entirely new and uncomfortable territory, and just how safely walled away she is here is anybody's guess.

Which is another thing she hates.

"Nice to know some things remain true through all Captain Americas, though."

For Steve Rogers [616], later in the month

[anotheroldsoldier]

[The floor is quiet at this time of evening. It's only been a few days since his talk with Sam and his encounter with the other world's Natasha, and since then, he's been noticeably quieter, more sullen. He's figured out that the fireflies have something to do with these strange moods, and he's started keeping a better eye out, swatting them before they can bite him (blue ones especially are the enemy).

The deck area is empty except for Steve, on the outdoor couch, and Bucky wordlessly pads over to join him, sinking into the cushions and leaning closer to his friend than normal. It's the same thing he used to do as a teenager, slumping against Steve's shoulder in silence, when the war got to be too much.]

[livingsymbol]

[Steve has noticed his friend's quiet withdraw from people, but as usual he isn't going to pursue it unless it becomes obviously detrimental to him functioning or Bucky says something first. He respects his friends' space, especially now when Bucky is Captain America. He won't necessarily tread on his shadow.

But when Bucky sits down heavily and leans against him, Steve looks over with a look that says he's already aware that something has to be going on.]

You want some coffee?

[anotheroldsoldier]

[Bucky always says he's the one who knows Steve Rogers best in the world, and maybe that's true, but it goes both ways. Steve almost always knows how to handle him, barring that first year after he came back to himself from being the Winter Soldier. He gives him some space, lets Bucky come to him instead of forcing the issue.

Steve must know that Bucky will always come to him eventually. Steve Rogers is his anchor.]

Nah. Having trouble sleeping already. [He says, voice quiet, not moving yet from where he's slumped. It's like they're sharing a tent together again, during the war, alone in a camp full of other men.] I feel like a ten car pileup and I'm not sure why.