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[closed] [mission log]

who: Bucky Barnes [616], Steve Rogers [616], Steve Rogers [MCU], Michael Scofield, Stephen Strange, Loki, Sam Wilson, and Yuri Plisetsky. Feat. Tony Stark as remote consultant.
what: Mission: Healing Spring
when: Forward-dated to the week of April 23rd-29th
where: Out in the wilds beyond the wall
warnings: Possible (definite) violence/monster attacks. Will update.

[ooc: Headers below for each 'stage' of the mission. This is going down mingle-style fast and loose. If you don't want threadjacks in a particular thread, just say so in your header, else it's all fair game. It might get chaotic, so if/when anything major happens I'll summarize up here.]

Much bickering is to be had.

Sam has cool wings.

Michael puked out a window.

Steve needs laser safety classes.

ROCK LOBSTER- I mean, golems.

Michael and Sam actually find the place.

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[steve gives him a few seconds to catch his breath, giving bucky a nod of silent thanks for the water.]

Don't worry about it, you missed my shoes. Well, you missed the left one anyway.

[he's joking.]

We can leave the window down on this side. Think we'll be stopping soon?

[this asked of bucky.]

Most likely. I'm not sure how much longer we can keep going in the vehicles, the paths are getting pretty close. [He glances back out the window again at the vegetation, thick on either side, almost seeming to close in on them. They've long left any actual roads behind, and the ground is getting more uneven the deeper they venture.]

We can stop and make camp pretty soon.

Thanks.

[ Michael only heaves once or twice more before there's nothing left in his stomach but bile. He swishes the water around in his mouth and spits it out. It doesn't quite cut the taste, he'll be brushing his teeth the moment they stop, but it helps.

He crawls back to his seat and sits back heavily, mopping the sweat away from his forehead with the back of his sleeve. He'll be spending the rest of the ride with his head between his knees. ]

I can make it to camp. Don't stop because of me. The sooner we're there, the better.

You're sure?

[because he looks like he still feels pretty rough. steve casts a quick glance to bucky. if michael really wants to tough it out, he can respect that.]

Okay. I think you should give up the reading for now though. It'd be enough to make anyone queasy.

[Bucky glances back at Michael again, then out to the path ahead of them, through the thick foliage on either side. If he wants to tough it out, Bucky isn't going to tell him no - he doubts the man wants to be babied on this trip.]

It should just be a couple more hours. You can hang on that long. [A statement of confidence in his ability to not puke out the window again. It's almost convenient when they come across a few young trees knocked down across the sad excuse for a road, though. The truck lumbers to a stop.] Hey, we'll have to get out and clear these. Good chance to get some air if you need it.

I'm sure.

[ Michael gives Steve a reassuring, albeit shaky, smile.

Pale-faced and sweaty, Michael's glad when the truck rolls to a stop, and is almost out the door before Bucky's finished talking.

He won't stray too far from the road. If anyone wants to find him, he'll be within the fringes of the trees, drinking water and fanning himself with a folded up piece of paper. ]

[Bucky helps with the clearing of the path for a little while, but when it's nearly finished, he takes a break, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his sleeve. The jungle humidity is killer out here, and honestly, he's not that keen to get back into the truck himself.

Grabbing a bottle of water for himself, he wanders out in the direction Michael went, unscrewing the cap with slightly clumsy fingers. He knows his arm is largely waterproof, but he wonders if humidity is any different.] How are you doing?

[ Michael leans against a tree with his eyes closed. He opens them upon hearing the crack of twigs beneath Bucky's feet.

He hasn't been working with the others, and he's already soaked with sweat. His tattoos are almost visible through the damp fabric of his shirt. His hoodie, which hadn't entirely escaped the vomit fiasco, had been tossed into the bush.

At least he'd gotten to brush his teeth. ]

I'm okay. Sorry, I'll be over to help in a few.

[Bucky spares him a sympathetic wince, taking a drink of his own water. The humidity and the heat out here is awful, and Michael wasn't looking great even in the air-conditioning of the truck.]

Don't worry about it, it's almost cleared. Enjoy the time out of the truck while you can.

Are we close?

[ Michael takes a drink too. It makes the heat a little more bearable. That said, they do need to ration their resources. He's conscious of his water consumption. ]

I just don't want to be dead-weight.

We're getting there. [Rationing resources is important, but so is staying hydrated, especially for Michael. Bucky is loathe to trust the magic experts on this little road trip - they need a scientific mind as well.]

You're not dead weight. We need you for this.

I'm not much of a scientist, but I'll do my best.

[ Michael looks up into the canopy of the trees. It's a beautiful day, and when his stomach stops turning, maybe he can appreciate it. ]

Tony's on stand-by if I need support. He's the one with the degree.

You know more than the rest of us. [He points out with a light shrug, taking another drink of water before he caps his bottle again.]

Tony's good support. [He can agree with that, but the comment about his degree gets a sideways glance.] I was never that impressed by degrees. I guess because I never finished high school.

Did you get drafted first?

[ Michael doesn't know all there is to know about Bucky Barnes, but he knows enough, and never passes up the opportunity to know more. He keeps his friends close. ]

Or were you a rebel without a cause?

I enlisted at sixteen. School never seemed important, compared to everything else I was doing. [He smiles wryly; fighting Nazis had always seemed like a better option to sitting in a stuffy classroom all day.]

I don't think it hurt me any. You can't judge someone's intelligence based on how many degrees they have.

Enlisted at sixteen. Why am I not surprised?

[ At sixteen, awkward, anxious, and dressed in his brother's too big hand-me-down clothing, Michael had spent most of his time lost in books, or stuffed in a locker. Highschool hadn't been kind. ]

If there's one thing I learned volunteering with kids who didn't have the luxury of an education, it's that books have nothing to do with brains. A lot of them were brighter than most of the guys I went to college with, they just didn't have the opportunity to prove it.

I was lucky.

They had to get me outta trouble somehow. The brass preferred I punch Nazis instead of deck monkeys. [They just fostered his already-there love of fighting and pointed him at an enemy instead of letting him get into more trouble in bars and on base.]

You volunteered? Michael Scofield, I didn't know you were a damn saint. [They haven't known each other for that long, but everything he learns about Michael just makes him like him more. His comment is lightly teasing, but there's some genuine admiration there too.] It's nice that you recognize that, and gave back. I bet you made a real difference.

At least you fought for a real cause. I'm a pacifist, more or less, but I wouldn't pass up an opportunity to punch a Nazi.

[ Almost as soon as Bucky mentions his perceived saintliness, Michael's eyes go hot, then cold, and he looks away. ]

I'm no saint. Trust me. I've taken far more than I've given back. I've solved a lot of problems, helped a lot of people, only to be the cause, and hurt, of just as many.

We should go back.

Plenty of causes are real enough. [It's natural to try and downplay what he did, his usual reaction to anything resembling praise. He doesn't deserve it at this point.

Which is why, maybe, he notices the look on Michael's face, and realizes what he'd said. He cringes slightly.] Sorry, I didn't mean- That was a really bad joke. [Why can he not hold a conversation without making things awkward? He used to be so good at this. His smile is rueful.] Everyone's got their own demons, I should know that.

Yeah, okay, I think we're- just about ready to go.

It's fine. Really. I'm just... sensitive.

[ Michael smiles, for Bucky's sake. He hadn't done anything wrong. He doesn't know, and he'll stay ignorant, if Michael has his way. His demons aren't at his back, so much as in front of him, a constant threat.

If Bucky knew who he was and all that he's done, he wouldn't trust Michael, and for good reason. He might even stand in his way.

And for good reason.

Maybe their friendship is artificial, based on half-truths and lies, but it's all Michael has, and he doesn't want to lose it. Not yet. He's always been as selfish as he is selfless, when it comes to matters of the heart. ]

You know, I'm really looking forward to s'mores.

Edited 2017-05-05 19:24 (UTC)

Nah, I'm an asshole. [He returns the smile, a little self-deprecating. Bucky is self-aware enough to know that he doesn't always know how to act in social situations these days. He's out of practice still, despite his time with the Avengers, and... he doesn't want to fuck this up either. Making new human connections is something he wasn't sure he'd be capable of, a couple years ago, and he likes Michael.]

Never had campfire s'mores before? [He laughs quietly.] I haven't had one in years.

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[closed] [mission log]

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