two ✪ video & spam

[imfollowinghim]

[Between growing up in the Depression and spending a good deal of the war eating C-Rations or whatever other crap was readily available, Bucky's used to being hungry more often than he's not.

That means the dining hall has pretty quickly become his favorite place on board, only partially because you can apparently talk people into making you pancakes for breakfast basically every morning, and that's where he is and what he's doing now.

(This might actually be plate number two.)

He's wearing his combat fatigues, and there's still a sort of hollowness in his expression, like the amused smirk doesn't quite meet his eyes, but maybe he's just tired.]

So, potential end of the world aside, you guys realize this is basically a cruise ship, right? [There's a spa. A friggin' spa, and here he is coming from a place where a goddamn bathtub was a ridiculous luxury you were pretty much never going to see.] I've been in a lot of crummy places where things're about to totally fall apart, but I've never been around this many pancakes in my life, even when I was back home.

[It is and isn't a joke. Whatever's coming deserves some amount of respect and preparation, but seriously. This is nothing compared to holding up in a flooded, muddy fox hole waiting for a grenade to fall in and blow you to hell.]

There's still a lot I'm missing out on about the future, but if this's anything to go off of? The food's definitely a lot better. I mean, maybe I'm not the best guy to judge, but we used to boil everything, [He sounds somewhere between disgusted and fond in saying that.] And if anyone ever tries to trade you a can of ham and lima beans, you're better off socking them in the jaw, I don't care how hungry you are.

[Private to Ben]

Alex told me I was your warden. [And with that admission, there's a sort of awkward, half apologetic twist of his mouth that's not really a smile.] I'm having a hard time remembering everything, but I think I'm starting to get bits and pieces of it.

[It's like some nightmare he only has pieces of, and most of them don't make a lot of sense. Talking to him in some cell in the middle of God knows where, a weird hotel, were they animals at some point? It's a lot to figure out how to respond to.

And then there's the fact that he'd left. Or vanished, or who knows what, and he might not totally remember Ben, but he knows he feels like a complete jackass for walking out on him, intentionally or not.]

Sorry.

[Open Spam]

[Routine is - Bucky figures - the best way to keep himself from going completely nuts as long as he's just... here. Without an assignment and without some crisis to get in the middle of (for the time being, anyway), being at loose ends means he has time to sit and think about what happened, and what the future's potentially going to hold for him, and that's absolutely not how he wants to be spending his time.

So besides the dining hall - which again, you can find him in at least three times a day eating and finishing pretty sizable portions of whatever's available today - he also spends a decent amount of time in the gym. A lot of the more modern exercise equipment gets ignored - not because he doesn't know how to use it, but because beating the hell out of a punching bag is something he hasn't actually had a lot of time to indulge in over the last couple months

He also keeps finding himself wandering back to the library, which would probably surprise some of his grade school teachers if they were around to see it. Bucky's not an idiot, and he was no slouch when it came to academics or anything, but he'd definitely rather be out playing baseball or bailing Steve out of whatever shit he'd gotten himself into than sit around reading a book. And yet here he is, frequenting the same section of the library every time he comes in and selecting books all with more or less the same theme - The Day of Battle, The Longest Day, Band of Brothers, Eagle Against the Sun, Pacific Crucible. Sometimes he just flips through them, scowling like there's either something just factually wrong here or morally offended him, or maybe both. More often than not, they get returned to the shelves without being finished, and he goes back to looking for books that talk about what he's actually interested in.

Maybe someday, he'll come back to all of this and try to understand the bigger picture, but right now, he's got a different focus.

And then there's the firing range, which he is, frankly, unimpressed by. It's boring, not a challenge at all for someone who's used to taking impossible shots, sometimes while under heavy fire. Even the moving targets aren't especially difficult, and this leaves him feeling weirdly caged in and bored more than anything else.

There's a part of him that feels like this is a waste of ammo (and there's another, much quieter part of him that wonders if not just being able to say fuck it and never pick up a gun again is a bad thing or not), but with the way people are talking, it doesn't sound like he can really afford to get rusty, or pack it in and say someone else can deal with it.

Not that that's ever been his style.

And honestly? Part of him almost misses it. Not the killing, not the constantly being in danger of getting killed or watching a friend bite it, but the familiarity of it, the strange consistency of the life he'd adapted to over the last couple years. Getting suddenly jolted out of it is taking more effort than he'd sort of realized it would.]

Comments

[ Private]

[warisart]

[Ben, of course, works in the kitchens and furthermore is back to regular shifts; he is vigilant, though, and always vanishes into the back shelves before Bucky can see him. He doesn't know how to feel about this and even less of an idea what to do about it, so he gives himself space and time to think, and he stays out of Bucky's way.

He saw Alex tell Bucky he used to be his warden; he remembers in the infirmary when he remembered his name, small details. He hears the admission and the apology and he doesn't know what to do with any of it.

But he doesn't ignore the message. His own expression is exactly down the middle of neutral and polite while he considers telling him that he shouldn't apologize for something he doesn't remember, that he may not even have done.

Neither does he give in to that small, childish, desperate part of him that wants to follow Bucky around until he remembers him completely, to greet him openly because he knows how to have friends, now. He knows what friends are and how to trust, and Bucky was one of the first that tried. The first to give his life for him for no other reason than it was the right thing to do.]

Occasionally, there seem to be different versions of the same person that never recover one anothers' memories. Sometimes new arrivals that have been here before do, eventually, remember that time.

I doubt it is your fault, sir.

[ Private]

[imfollowinghim]

I can still feel lousy about it. And don't call me that.

[It's less genuinely snappish and more a throwback to their old arguments than anything else, and he's serious: he does feel lousy. He remembers enough to know that he was supposed to be there for Ben even when no one else was going to be, remembers trying to convince him to trust him, and then he'd just. Gone.

He hates that. He's angry with himself, even if it hadn't been his fault.]

You still play baseball?

[ Private]

[warisart]

Of course, sergeant.

[It's petty, Ben knows, but it's what he says to pass over again telling him not to apologize for what he just admitted to not remembering. He hadn't argued, before, and he doesn't argue now. The question draws him up short before he can say anything else, though, eyes narrowing and chin lifting ever so slightly.]

Is that one of your "bits and pieces?"

[ Private]

[imfollowinghim]

Yeah. Bunch of other stuff, too.

[He still doesn't really know how to explain it in a way that makes sense. Not that much about this makes sense in general.]

And it's Bucky, you know it is. I'm even less of your boss now than I ever was, so knock it off.

[Text]

[maced_eggs]

BUCKYY I HAVE FIGRRED OOUT TEX MESSAGIGN

IS REALLY HARD TO GET TEH BUTTONSSWHERE YOU NEED THEM TOO GO

[Text]

[imfollowinghim]

Haven't you ever used a typewriter before? It's not that much different.

[Text]

[maced_eggs]

ITS ALL ON TEH SAME FIDDDDLY LITL SCREEN

[tolaywaste]

[Alex doesn't spend a ton of time in the library - but when he does happen to go in, he passes Bucky quickly enough. He's never seen someone look so personally offended by books, though.]

[Their meeting was awkward enough, but he isn't sorry for it. Certainly doesn't regret it anywhere near enough to bring it up now. Instead, he just grins and cocks his chin.]

Those books say something about your mother?

[imfollowinghim]

[Bucky glances up in surprise - apparently he was so engrossed in the book, he hadn't heard Alex approaching - but he smirks a little, glancing back down at the book and shrugging before looking back up at Alex.]

Not yet. Wouldn't be surprised, though. [He falls silent, and the smirk slips into something more serious as he weighs whether or not he wants to ask this. It's still weird talking about it, and while he's posed for the propaganda pictures and seen the newsreels and the comic books, he's still not looking to be a celebrity or call too much attention to himself.

It would kind of make his job more difficult if he did, anyway.] Have you heard of Captain America?

[tolaywaste]

[Stepping back slightly to get a better look at Bucky, at the whole picture of Bucky with the book, Alex hesitates, then shakes his head.]

Not that I know of. Not off the top of my head.

Is he somebody I ought to know about?

[this_corrosion]

Where're you from that they don't have pancakes?

[imfollowinghim]

Well, where I was, we usually didn't. Didn't really have normal kitchens, either.

[this_corrosion]

So is this Earth, or some other place?

library

[strangehistorian]

[Chromie, besides being a fixture here, has a tendency to pop up out of nowhere without warning. Like when you're trying to put a book back.]

You don't need to do that! If you leave them on the tables we can re-shelve them.

[imfollowinghim]

[Holy shit, where did you come from? Bucky noticeably startles, almost in a way that would suggest he was considering going for a weapon, but when he spots who it is, he visibly relaxes and smiles pretty good naturedly.]

Sorry. Didn't want to make more work for you guys than I had to.

[strangehistorian]

That's very sweet, but leaving them out lets us know which books are used the most often!

I'm sorry for startling you! Are you looking for something in particular?

[youwillgotohell]

A cruise ship we're trapped on.

[She's relatively mild about it, but there is something lurking beneath that calm, a possibly explosive something. But it seems to pass, and she arches her eyebrows.]

Canned ham?

[imfollowinghim]

[Look, no one's shooting at you, you're very unlikely to see a friend blown to smithereens by some random grenade, and there's zero chance of accidentally being shot to pieces by a bunch of Spitfires who thought you were Germans. This is a cruise ship.]

It's disgusting, believe me. You'd think they'd get the message and change things up a little.

[youwillgotohell]

[Okay but give it time, it can be a hellish cruise ship.

She smiles wryly.]

I believe you. I think anyone who hears the term would believe you. Why in the world did they bother?

spam.

[lastrat]

[When Bond sees someone else in the range, he politely takes a stall a few down, giving them both their privacy. He dismantles his Walther, pieces it back together and only halfheartedly times himself against his wrist watch: it's an acceptable time, but not done like his life depended on it. Hard to find the right frame of mind for that, even now.

After he unloads a clip on a shifting target, whose pattern isn't that difficult to discern, he stops and reloads, hitting the button to pull his target forward.]

Not much of a challenge, is it.

[He pitches his voice high, over the earmuffs, to be heard. When the target comes to a stop, all his shots are neatly clustered in the center. That's why he comes here, to make certain his shoulder isn't worsening.]

spam.

[imfollowinghim]

[Bucky spares Bond a glance when he comes in, but likewise gives the other man his space. There's a small part of him that's sort of keeping an eye out, reluctant to let his guard down even if it's pretty clear that this is a lot safer than most of the other places he's been over the last couple months, but he doesn't know this guy, and it's kind of hard to just fully step away from that mindset of constantly being alert and wary.

Which is sort of why he's here in the firing range in the first place.

But when Bond addresses him, he glances over again and barks out a laugh, hitting the button to pull his own target forward. The bullseye is pretty much demolished, while the rest is completely untouched.]

I guess the fun kinda gets taken out of it when no one's shooting back. [He says it drily, like he might be being sarcastic, but he's honestly really not. "Fun" is definitely the wrong word, but the challenge is gone, there are no stakes to be had, and it's just not the same.]

spam.

[lastrat]

[Tugging off his ear muffs, Bond pulls down the target and glances at Bucky with a wry look.]

Couldn't agree more.

[Fortunately, he agrees about the word choice, too: shooting at each other certainly wouldn't be fun, but he gets the idea that Bucky at least would pose a decent challenge.]

Military?

spam.

[semifreakingnormal]

[The library is really not some place Scott frequents a lot. He's not stupid, really - though some might disagree - he's just better suited to dealing with action, rather than research. He doesn't recognize Bucky right away, though, and keeps walking past him while he searches for books on werewolves, wolfsbane, onii, the whole shebang.

Eventually, with a stack he should probably be struggling to hold in hand, he pauses by Bucky's table.]

Hey. What're you looking for?

[As always, he's as open as could be about intruding on people.]

spam.

[imfollowinghim]

[Understandable, really. He's not wearing his Commandos jacket, and he's not a teenager in bright colored pajamas, either. Scott gets a quick glance on his first pass through, but Bucky doesn't wind up paying him much attention at all until Scott addresses him, and then he's kind of not sure how to explain.

It's still not a question Bucky's really sure how to answer, if only because he doesn't want to have people make a big deal out of it, or act like he's some idiot for talking about some person that - according to these books - basically didn't exist. He's never been one for really sitting down and explaining this is important to me, and the fact that I can't find anything about it in any of these books is kind of making me crazy.]

A book that talks about the war I actually fought in, [He finally decides on. These are still interesting, and it's not like he's shocked that a book about the 101st might not mention Steve at all, but it's still just weird to see no mention of HYDRA or Schmidt or Steve anywhere. They couldn't have covered it all up, and there's a good shot these are all from some different, parallel earth, but it's still unsettling and frustrating, and he closes the book he's holding with a definitive slap.]

You wanna set those down? You've kinda got an armload, there.

spam.

[semifreakingnormal]

Oh - yeah. [He doesn't really notice the weight, but he does set the stack down on the table, besides one of Bucky's piles. It strikes him as kind of funny, or maybe a little embarrassing: history next to what looks like totally fake...stuff. He doesn't spend much time thinking on it.]

You were in World War II? [He double checks one of the book titles just to make sure, because he's definitely never seen those books before.] What do you mean? [He drops into a seat, scooting his book tower aside so he can actually see Bucky.]