[Not on his watch. Steve Rogers ain't catching his death of cold. No bully's ever gonna bust his head open on the cobblestone. He's not sitting home alone on his birthday or Christmas or Saturday night for that matter. Not on Bucky's watch.
But his watch is over, and now he doesn't know what to do with himself. So he drinks. Maybe it'll give him back some of his confidence, or warm up the parts of him that still feel cold from the walking pneumonia. Maybe it'll erase some of his memories - he's got a lot that he doesn't want anymore, watching men get filled full of bullet holes or blown to pieces of meat. Hearing them cry for their ma as they lay dying - they always cry for their ma. Bucky's pretty sure that it was Steve's name on his lips when he was strapped to the table.
Bucky swallows, empty shot glass still in hand as he points a finger in Steve's direction.]
I got a fine voice. Just because that barbershop quartet of yours wouldn't let me in. Bunch of geezers.
[He smirks and puts the glass down, lowering his head so that Steve can't see his eyes. He takes a deep breath.]
no subject
But his watch is over, and now he doesn't know what to do with himself. So he drinks. Maybe it'll give him back some of his confidence, or warm up the parts of him that still feel cold from the walking pneumonia. Maybe it'll erase some of his memories - he's got a lot that he doesn't want anymore, watching men get filled full of bullet holes or blown to pieces of meat. Hearing them cry for their ma as they lay dying - they always cry for their ma. Bucky's pretty sure that it was Steve's name on his lips when he was strapped to the table.
Bucky swallows, empty shot glass still in hand as he points a finger in Steve's direction.]
I got a fine voice. Just because that barbershop quartet of yours wouldn't let me in. Bunch of geezers.
[He smirks and puts the glass down, lowering his head so that Steve can't see his eyes. He takes a deep breath.]
Just one of those nights, Stevie.