riverviewlogs | (no subject)

who: open!
what: a bunch of old soldiers hanging out
when: 3/22
where: the riverview bar and grill
warnings: none yet, will add as necessary

[The Riverview Bar and Grill is a pretty typical-looking bar-slash-restaurant. Sam's spoken with the owners about having a gathering here, and he's there early to push several tables into position so everybody can sit around and chat (though if anyone wants to break into small groups or be less socially inclined, there are still some smaller tables in the vicinity, or there's always the bar itself). A local sports match is showing on the tvs, of course, and there's a pool table, foosball, darts, and even a pinball machine tucked away in one corner for entertainment purposes.

Sam himself spots one round for the group, several pitchers of cold beer on the table once they're all gathered. After that, it's every man for himself - and, of course, the menu has all sorts of appetizers available, from everyone's favorite bar nachos to hot wings to...well, whatever Riverview offers in terms of specialties.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The look of surprise on Bucky's face is muted but genuine. He spent so much time alone these days that it seemed like his natural state of being, he wasn't used to people making that kind of offer to him. His first instinct was to refuse it, to walk away right now and put distance between them. He's not safe to be around people, and it wouldn't be fair to endanger someone who's just trying to be nice.

But he's lonely. He hasn't had a proper conversation, a friend, since Clark left him behind. He wants so badly to be human again, not a weapon, but he can't without any connections to keep him grounded.

"Should be more careful who you say that to," he said, voice low. It hadn't even been a declaration of friendship, just saying that Bucky knew someone else, but it felt like a danger anyway.

He rolled one shoulder and pulled himself back to the present, moving on from his own warnings quickly. "No job. I'm between places to live at the moment, and they usually need an address."

"Uh huh." John's heard that one before. Bucky reminds him of Ronon in so many ways. The two would get along. A runner is a runner, no matter which galaxy they're from. A human can only be alone in the wind for so long. Even animals need companionship, whether it's in the form of a pack or a mate.

He waves over a server and orders himself another beer.

"I don't need an address." And since Bucky's taking his sweet time, and because John doesn't want this conversation to be anything more than casual, he starts yanking the darts out of the board to reset the game.

"I run a unit out of the PG. Riverview Reconnaissance One. We've got a core group, but we could use auxiliary members. People who can fill in when members are busy with other PG duties, or who have special skills. Think of it as part-time fieldwork."

Bucky doesn't answer for a while, all he can do at first is stare. He hadn't been expecting a job offer, and the kindness of that stymies him for a moment. He doesn't know this man, not really, and that's a lot to put on the line for a potentially untrustworthy stranger.

For a moment he almost wants to accept. The look on his face is one of wistful gratitude, before it shuts down again into the more neutral mask that he's just so used to wearing all the time.

"I can't." The 'sorry' is implied underneath that. "But thank you. Really."

Just to be offered that has touched him more than he thought it would.

"No problem. If you ever change your mind, just give me a shout. Sometimes we need an extra pair of hands, sometimes we don't."

John holds the darts out to Bucky, taking the opportunity to look him in the eyes.

"Y'know, sometimes it helps to keep busy." John doesn't specify what it helps, exactly, because he doesn't think he has to. Isn't sure he could, even if he wanted to. John's got a smoother surface, he's learned to polish it over the years, has had to in order to survive, but on the inside? He's still all jagged edges.

There's no smooth surface for Bucky, but his jagged edges are hidden beneath a carefully constructed mask. His expression changes very little in the manner of someone who has been taught to keep their true emotions hidden for the sake of their own survival. He doesn't want to leave it like this; John is a stranger, but he's reached out in kindness and that deserves something in return.

He takes the darts and turns one of them over and over between his fingers, breaking the eye contact pretty quickly.

"I'm not a safe man to be around," he says eventually. "It might help me, but it wouldn't help the person I might hurt. Or worse."

"I've never met a soldier who's safe to be around." They're all a little crazy. You have to be crazy to do what they do. It takes a special kind of person to become a trained killer, and to be good at it.

John smiles, even if Bucky isn't looking. He likes the guy. Troubled as he is. John's always had a soft spot for fix'er uppers. Just look at his team.

Hell, look at John. He's been the darkhorse since day one.

"My door's always open, is what I'm saying. For a job, or a game of darts. You can bet your ass I have one of these in my office. Nothing makes me want to play a game like a stack of reports."

Perhaps that's true, that they're all dangerous in some way, but Bucky knows that things are different in his case. He wonders if John would be as kind, as relaxed, if he knew just how many deaths of innocent people is on his hands, and how many decades he did nothing but kill to the tune of HYDRA pipes.

He's not about to explain.

It's unlikely that he'll ever take John up on his offer, he's more likely to sink back into the shadows and obscurity. But maybe-- maybe he'll remember sometimes that it's nice to have company, and he'll risk it, so he doesn't dismiss the offer out of hand. He just nods slowly and offers his gloved hand to shake.

"Thanks, I'll remember."

John takes Bucky's hand and gives it a firm shake.

"Don't be a stranger."

Followed by a crooked grin, because yeah, it's a little absurd to act like buddies after hanging out for approximately half an hour, but that's how John rolls. When he likes people, he likes them. It's an all or nothing deal. And Bucky looks like he could use a friend, regardless of where or how that friendship came about.

Men like them have to live life in the moment. You never know what tomorrow's going to bring. John never really counts on being alive past his next mission.

Bucky offers up a smile of his own in return, because he genuinely is grateful for the offer of work and for the kindness shown to a stranger. It's a small smile, and it looks rusty as if he doesn't use it often, but it's genuine.

"See you."

It's a perfunctory goodbye, as he's already turned to leave as soon as they've finished their handshake. He's done here, and he doesn't want to stay too long in case something ruins the relatively good time he's had.

He's out of the door only seconds after that.