James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
anotheroldsoldier) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
riverviewlogs2017-04-12 12:18 am
anotheroldsoldier) wrote in riverviewlogs2017-04-12 12:18 am
Entry tags:
[closed] See the way you hold yourself
who: Bucky Barnes [616] and Yuri Plisetsky
what: The day after his surprise birthday party, Yuri has Anger Issues.
when: 4/12, early morning
where: A gym near the housing building.
warnings: Feelings.
[It's early, barely 5:30 in the morning, and the sky is still dark, but Bucky Barnes has been awake for at least an hour. He took his run alone today, but he has a standing appointment at the gym with Yuri for most mornings, including today. The gym he frequents is well-equipped, but quiet - the customer base mostly save their workouts for the evenings after work, which is why he likes it so much.
Waiting on Yuri to arrive, no doubt after his own run, he's spread out on the mat going through some deep stretches, loosening up for the workout to come. He's thinking maybe some acrobatics today, some time on the pommel horse and the rings perhaps, but generally, Bucky wings it with the program. He's flexible - both figuratively and literally, looking at ease in his stretches, loose and casual. His hair is still damp with sweat from his run, but he's shed his track jacket for just his sweatpants, socks, and a thin tank-top.
Bending into a lunge on the mats, he checks the clock again, but that's when he hears the door clang shut.]
what: The day after his surprise birthday party, Yuri has Anger Issues.
when: 4/12, early morning
where: A gym near the housing building.
warnings: Feelings.
[It's early, barely 5:30 in the morning, and the sky is still dark, but Bucky Barnes has been awake for at least an hour. He took his run alone today, but he has a standing appointment at the gym with Yuri for most mornings, including today. The gym he frequents is well-equipped, but quiet - the customer base mostly save their workouts for the evenings after work, which is why he likes it so much.
Waiting on Yuri to arrive, no doubt after his own run, he's spread out on the mat going through some deep stretches, loosening up for the workout to come. He's thinking maybe some acrobatics today, some time on the pommel horse and the rings perhaps, but generally, Bucky wings it with the program. He's flexible - both figuratively and literally, looking at ease in his stretches, loose and casual. His hair is still damp with sweat from his run, but he's shed his track jacket for just his sweatpants, socks, and a thin tank-top.
Bending into a lunge on the mats, he checks the clock again, but that's when he hears the door clang shut.]
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Bending over, he rummages in his gym bag for a second, and pulls out a handgun. The brand is unclear, but it resembles a military-issue Beretta M9 - close enough to count. Bucky sits cross legged on the mats and he puts the gun in front of him.] Treat your hands, and then you're going to take this apart and put it back together until you know every pin like you know your skate blades.
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Still, he felt a little stupid and insensitive after he had snatched the cream violently from the other's hand, and James' had moved towards his metal arm. For a moment, Yuri said nothing, his nostrils flaring, and it seemed almost as though he was just going to throw the cream right back in the other's face- but then Yuri popped open the cap, swearing underneath his breath as he placed a dollop of the cream on the back of his hand, and began spreading it across his knuckles.
He dropped down heavily to sit across from the other, still looking unimpressed, eyeing the gun as though it had personally offended him. It took everything in him to bite his tongue, to keep from making snide remarks about what a stupid and pointless exercise this was- even despite knowing that it wasn't. ]
Well are you going to show me how the hell to take it apart first, or am I just supposed to figure it out? In that case I won't be held responsible for wrecking your stupid gun.
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This is karma for all the times Major Samson had to deal with him, isn't it?
He quirks a brow, quietly pleased that Yuri is willing, if angrily reluctant, to learn.] I'll show you once. Pay attention. And I don't care if you damage this one, I picked it up in town.
[He doesn't explain that the repetitive task will be good to focus on, that something to do with his hands might help him think through what's making him angry, or give him something else to think about entirely. He starts pulling the gun apart with practiced, easy motions, barely having to look down at the firearm as he explains what piece goes where and how they interconnect, what pieces will need to be cleaned and oiled.]
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[ But then, he was quiet. Still frustrated beyond belief- still angry. But at least he was clearly making an effort to pay attention. His brows furrowed and eyes focused on the motions of the other's hands, doing his best to catalogue what the other's telling him, repeating the steps underneath his breath once James has said them to try and retain them. ]
Doesn't look so hard. [ Yuri grunts once the other is done, and has put the gun back together again. ]
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When he says it doesn't look so hard, Bucky pushes the gun across the mat to him.] Your turn, then. Focus on the parts. You're gonna be doing this more than once.
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[ Yuri scowled, turning the beretta over in his hands for a moment, making himself comfortable on the floor with his legs folded. The, his hands began to move.
He wasn't as fast as Bucky was at it, his motions not as smooth. He shook the gun, trying to get the slide to release as his finger pressed down on the button on the side, like James had demonstrated. Swearing under his breath, he grit his teeth when it didn't come loose right away. (Because he hadn't turned the safety lock ninety degrees. As much as he'd been paying attention, he'd still managed to miss this subtle, but important step.) ]
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Turn your safety lock.
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I didn't ask for your help. [ He snarled, before looking back to the gun and snarling at it. Notably, doing as he had been told, though. Sliding the lock to free the slide of the barrel. Exhaling a slow breath, Yuri did his best to calm down, so that he could focus on taking the rest of the gun apart without any more mistakes.
He made sure to place the pieces down in the order they had come apart, in order to reassemble them easier. Either that, or to have more projectiles to throw if it really started to piss him off. ]
It's those stupid fucking assholes from my home. [ He snapped out suddenly, as the bullet chamber slid free into his palm, Yuri's jaw locking, and his teeth grinding. ] They say they can't fucking go home. Like they'd know a god damn thing about it!
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Then he starts to talk, and somehow, Bucky feels like he's opened a door. Done something right for a change.] Why do they think they can't go home?
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Because apparently they came from somewhere else. Some stupid fucking space ship and maybe their version of home is destroyed- and that's fucked! [ Yuri can't focus on the parts of the gun anymore, and he ends up throwing them furiously to the ground- getting up onto his feet and whirling away- slamming his fist as hard as he can into the nearest surface. Which happens to be a rather unforgiving wall. Pain blossoms through his hand, down his arm. Knuckles throbbing, breathing coming in harsh and wracked. He does it again. The corners of his eyes feel wet- it makes him angrier, and his other fist hits the wall.
He knows anger; but this is anger like he has never felt. Encompassing everything, feeling like the only way to soothe it is to bleed it out. ]
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Are they from an alternate timeline? One where they wind up at this space ship? [A pause. Thinking about the logistics, if their version of home might be destroyed, then maybe being here is the end of their line. But it isn't for Yuri.] That is fucked.
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I don't know. They just said they got pulled onto a ship. With another Yuri. [ His stomach twisted and clenched, and it felt like it had last night- like he had been stabbed in the gut, the heart, and the blades were being twisted viciously inside of him. ]
How do you stand it? [ His voice was so small, his posture slumping, sinking to his knees, his forehead hitting the wall- followed by his fist. Not even halfheartedly beaten against it's unyeilding surface this time. ]
Knowing there is another you. Not just out there but- knowing you're not what they want. Not what they expected... I can't... [ He squeezed his eyes shut, twin hot, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he stuttered for breath. ]
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That doesn't mean Yuri will have an easier time with it. He approaches the kid after a few minutes, after he starts to fold in on himself, and kneels next to him, reaching out his right hand to rest his fingers lightly against his shoulder, unsure how much touch is welcome at the moment.]
It's... complicated. [He finally says, voice level but heavy.] There's no right or easy way to deal with other timelines. Other universes. I ain't got a guidebook for this kinda thing.
C'mere, look at me. I can tell you one thing. You don't have to be their Yuri. You don't have to be what they expect, or what they want. If they got a problem with you, I'll knock their heads together myself. [He says it calmly, but there's a current of truth in it, vehemence. He will do it.]
You only gotta worry about - and I know this sounds cheesy as hell, alright? - you only gotta worry about being yourself. A thing I learned over the years is, you can't define yourself by other people. Not even other versions of yourself.
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At the other's request, he made a soft noise of protest. Not wanting to, ashamed, now, of how viciously emotional he had been. Sure, he was prone to outbursts- always angry- but this was different. It was something more visceral, and far more personal than his usual acerbic tendencies. ]
I just want... [ He started, but stopped, shaking his head weakly, before finally turning his head to look at the other- looking stricken. Hurt, and small. ]
And if that's not good enough? [ He asked, feeling carved hollow, his voice weak and soft.
As much as Yuri hated to admit it, he worked hard to please others.
He always had. If it wasn't working to make his grandfather proud,
then it was to prove Yakov wrong, to prove to Viktor he was worthwhile, to convince him to choreograph his short program, and then to show that he was better than Katsudon. And if what he was- who he was... wasn't enough?
He was lost. ]
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The words hit him directly in a hurt of his own, deep down, and he exhales a breath like it's been punched out of him. Those thoughts echo a lot of his own thoughts about himself, past and present. They don't look the same, and they don't have the same experiences, but it's like looking in a mirror all the same.] Oh, kiddo. [He gets medicinal wipes from the first aid kit and draws Yuri back to the mats to sit, taking one of his hands to inspect the damage and wipe away some of the blood. His metal hand is just as careful as the flesh one.]
I... know how hard it can be. To feel like you're living in someone else's shadow, tryin' to live up to the world's expectations. [He blows out another breath like he's trying to get his thoughts together, struggling for the words to say. Struggling with the decision whether or not to reveal his own vulnerabilities and soft, easily-hurt bits.] I never wanted to be Captain America. That was always Steve, to me. To the rest of the world, too. Tryin' to fill his shoes, tryin' to be him... I can't do it.
I still have days thinkin' I'm not good enough. I don't know if those thoughts ever go away. [He closes his eyes for a moment and drags a hand through his damp hair.] You just... gotta do what you need to do, and not try to be someone you can't be.
All I can really tell you is that here, with me, you're enough.