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lovelyirony · 4 years

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“But I remember you the way that we rehearsed” for winter13, please?

Fake dating. Bucky didn’t like that it had come to this. He glared at his agent, Natasha, who pays him no attention.

“And this is necessary exactly why?”

“Because you scare people,” Natasha says. “And it proves on some level that you have a heart somewhere in there.”

Bucky snorts. “Let them think I don’t have one. It’s how I get all my roles, right?”

He had had previous experience in the military. With squared shoulders, a deadset gaze, and good-enough looks to be noticed by a talent scout? He’d been shipped off to Hollywood and gotten typecast as a handsome military man in every single movie. He didn’t mind it. As long as it paid the bills, he’d do it.

Natasha didn’t like this. Apparently he had to be a “real person” and “interact with people.”

He did not like that. Why interact with people? He talked with Steve. He made fun of Sam. This was enough!

“At some point, people grow bored of the whole ‘I’m tough and distant, watch me gaze stoically’“ Natasha tells him. “And I know it goes quickly. With a dating life, it proves there’s more to you.”

“There’s really, really not.”

“Then it will boost Carter’s career,” Natasha says. “You don’t want to kick a fellow star down, do you?”

“I don’t particularly care.”

Sharon is dragging her heels in the dirt.

“Maria, what the hell? What’s all this about me dating Barnes?”

“It’ll be good for his image.”

"What, to prove he can date someone?”

“On the nose,” Maria says. “He needs someone that shows a...softer side of him.”

“Does he have a softer side?”

“You can make one.”

“And if I don’t?”

"Then you have a lower chance of breaking out.”

“Still a chance.”

“Do it and I’ll make sure that you get a wine cellar,” Maria says.

“...fine.”

They both look at each other carefully.

“I’m Bucky.”

“Sharon. Good to meet you.”

She sticks out a hand for a shake. It’s firm, to the point, and they’re both thinking this might not be the worst.

“So, how do you want to spin this?” Natasha asks Maria.

“They meet at a red carpet event,” Maria says. “Bucky asks after her, she gives him her number. They meet up for coffee. Become a thing. Short and sweet, exactly how it should be.”

They nod.

Sharon stares.

“So we don’t get input?”

“What would your idea have been?” Natasha asks.

“I meet her at the shooting range,” Bucky mutters.

“That’s literally the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” Maria says flatly. “Nope. Red carpet. We’ll coordinate outfits a bit, leave the public saying ‘aw’ that it was ‘destined in the stars’ or whatever bullshit they’re going to put in the magazine. Any questions, concerns?”

“Can I pick the coffee shop?” Sharon asks.

“Yes.”

The red carpet event. One of Sam’s newest spy flicks, and Bucky can’t lie and say he isn’t excited. Sam makes a good spy with smooth looks, an easy smile, and a way with a suit and acting like he’s acting for espionage.

It also helps that he can make fun of him while they’re at the theater.

Sharon looks nice in a simple blue dress. He’s wearing a blue tie.

Coordinating. By chance. He almost laughs at the absurdity of it all.

She saunters over to him.

“Bucky Barnes, right?” she asks.

“You, uh, got it,” Bucky says.

“I’m Sharon. I liked your last movie. You pulled an impressive move with the motorcycle. Was that a stunt double?”

“Nah, although I did have a nice guy for the building leap,” Bucky answers. “You were in the last murder movie, right?”

“The detective, yeah,” Sharon says. “How’d you meet Sam?”

Conversation goes smoothly. Sharon fills in where Bucky breaks off. She doesn’t say anything about his short, blunt answers that so many others flounder over. She doesn’t even pause for any pity when he mentions the prosthetic.

“Is it a Stark model or something else?”

“Um. Stark.”

“Good choice,” Sharon says. “I was reading about the success rates.”

“What, because you knew I have one?” Bucky asks.

“No, my cousin’s Tony,” Sharon says. She puts on a teasing smile. “Not everything is about you, Mr. Barnes.”

“I wouldn’t presume, Ms. Carter,” he answers, a smile playing at his lips. “Mind if I escort you to your seat?”

Take notice. Pictures. He knows it’ll be on one of those late night “News” stations. (News. What a fucking joke.)

He gets her number at the end of the night. She slips him a notecard.

“Special occasion and all,” Sharon says. “I’ll send you the address for the coffee shop once you text back.”

That night he stays awake a bit longer. He tells himself it’s just because of the fancy, late event.

It is not because he thinks Sharon may just be one of the most interesting people he’s ever met, and not just because she’s his type.

Besides, coffee is nice. He can drink it and not answer anything while he’s sipping on it.

He’s early. By half an hour. She is five minutes late, orders some fancy concoction, and sits down. She looks very nice, put-together. Bucky can already see everyone staring and taking pictures.

“So, how was your night?” Bucky asks.

"Not anything happening besides sleep after the premiere, you?” she asks, stirring the foam around.

“Not really. Ate a hot pocket.”

He cringes.

He really made the choice to say that, didn’t he? Ugh.

To his surprise, Sharon laughs to herself.

“Glad I’m not the only one who still eats garbage food. The amount of people who say they eat a smoothie bowl...”

They launch into conversation about stupid foods that celebrities eat, and how much they both would kill for a grease-stained-paper burger that honestly tastes like your aorta is gonna fail. That’s how unhealthy it is.

Sharon finds out that he likes rock climbing, and she offers to host the next outing at the club she goes to.

They get photographed exiting. She admires the beat-up car that he refuses to get rid of.

“Still runs, don’t see why I would get rid of it,” Bucky mutters.

“Can I just say, for one, that I don’t know why anyone in Hollywood would deny having a car that’s fifteen years old and has a ‘My Son is an Eagle Scout!’ sticker on the back,” she says. “Oh my god, did you get this from your mom!”

Bucky laughs.

Dating is easy.

Feelings are hard.

Because Sharon can go on dates. They go on walks and answers questions and grin for pictures, and that’s all good. She can do that.

What she can’t do is at least attempt to stop trying to feel the way his fingers press into her waist, the way she smiles at him. She knows how she’s smiling at him.

She needs to stop sitting with him at an old diner at sunset, cheeks red with laughter and long-faded sun, and they bicker over who has the best shake.

She needs to stop taking his jackets and shirts and wearing them out and feeling a sense of pride that other people know that she knows him more than anyone else. The way that he only smiles at her.

They’ll have to talk to the Oscars board to get him nominated for Best Actor. Hell, maybe she can even convince them to have him win. He’s convincing like that.

Bucky hates that he has feelings as well as memories. Had lobotomies not been highly risky and (mostly) illegal, he probably would have signed up for one right about now.

Dating is...nice. He likes Sharon. He hopes that she likes him, at least. Tolerates maybe.

Natasha says their break-up is scheduled for a month from now. Mutual parting, careers in the way. Whatever excuse is cooked up, he’s sure it’ll make sense. Sharon probably has a life to get back to, and Bucky...he’s sure he’ll think of something to say in the interview when they invariably ask him about it.

It’s Sharon who comes to his house at ten-thirty at night in old cut-offs, a t-shirt that’s paint-splattered from when she helped him paint his kitchen table chairs one boring afternoon, and her eyes are rimmed with red.

“Feel free to tell me I’m stupid, but I don’t wanna break up,” Sharon says. “We have a good time, I think you’re probably the only actor in this whole scene that I’d ever date, and you’re the best guy I’ve ever met.”

Bucky blinks.

“Are you...me? The best guy you’ve ever met?”

Sharon giggles a bit.

“Yeah, you.”

“Sharon as long as you’ll have me, I’m yours,” Bucky confesses. “Can’t promise I’m the most interesting guy alive.”

“Says the guy who drives a beat-up town car with stickers on the back,” Sharon says with a snort. She pulls him into a hug. “But yes. I want you, Bucky. I really, really do.”

They inform Natasha and Maria, who already saw this coming from the moment they met.

“Another match in the books,” Maria says, pouring a glass of wine for herself. “Who’s next on your list?”

Natasha thinks, sliding her sunglasses down. “Well, I think Sif and Jane would do quite nicely together, don’t you think?”

“It’s gonna need more planning than Bucky and Sharon,” Maria says. “You sure you’re up for that?”

Natasha grins.

“When have I not been, dear?”

#winter13 #acting au #sharon carter #winter soldier #bucky barnes #agent thirteen #maria hill #natasha romanoff #lovelyirony writes

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iwanttogohomenowplease · 7 years

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A brief history of bad times, part 1

So hi, it’s been a while.

Quick answers to your questions:

- Yeah, i probably should do that podcast. Sorry. I recorded a bunch of interviews with cool people but never had the faith in myself or what I was doing to actually fully press ahead with it. It’ll likely see the light of day soon.

- Yeah, i will blog some more. Spoiler alert, I have like 3 tours worth of absolute nonsense with a particular band to write about that i’m trying to structure in my head. It’ll happen, probably soon. Difficult second album and all that. The thing is, 2017 has actually been a great year for me as far as the tours I’ve been a part of and there hasn’t been that beautiful air of resentment about my life choices that was present the year prior. And as far as the ones i’ll be writing about, I guess I wanted to let the dust settle on them a bit.

- Yeah, old blue is still running. German engineering, right?

EDIT: I’d originally intended this to be a single post about a fairly short tour as it wasn’t quite as action packed as the last one, but I guess I really know how to waffle on when I’m whinging. I think this will probably be in 3 parts if this is anything to go by.

So, with that out of the way, let’s take a brief stop in early spring 2016. It’d been a really rough end to 2015, and with an impressively lengthy and expensive MOT in January behind me i’d had to pick up basically whatever I could get in terms of work to, you know, not starve to death in an alley somewhere. It was around this time I had one of my favourite tours ever with Allison Weiss and Jenny Owen Youngs (that’s them up there in the cover photo, don’t they look pleasant, well behaved and friendly?) but pretty soon afterwards I had a period where i had to kind of jam a few short runs together. Basically the sort of thing where i’d be finishing a tour in Liverpool one night, then starting another tour in Norwich the next night with a drop off in London inbetween.

Well, exactly that, actually. It meant agreeing to do some silly, inadvisable driving stints, but that’s pretty much my M.O at this point and I really needed the money. Plus the second run was with Ducking Punches who i’d previously had some great experiences with. I just had to get through 5 days on a metal tour first. I hadn’t had the best of times with metal bands prior to this (just you wait…) so I wasn’t exactly foaming at the mouth to get out on this run, but also it was only 5 days, how miserable could it be?

“I’ve brought Green Street, let’s stick it on. Can’t wait to get fucked up and go to a strip club tonight.”

Ah, fuck.

So day one of this run is an early morning pickup in London followed by a full days drive up to Newcastle for the first show. The band are tour support so there’s no backline/major stress about being there early, as is evident by us leaving a good hour or so later than planned after one of the guys slept in AND decided to go for breakfast.

First impressions, the guys all seem alright. Guitarist is a bit of a geezer and a bit of a scene veteran, clearly the driving force behind this band. Friendly enough, but you can imagine him trying to gouge your eyes out with a broken bottle after a minor disagreement about what the best Metallica album is. Drummer is a total space cadet, who doesn’t really seem to have much of a vested interest in being at all helpful ever at any time. He constantly wanders off during load ins and load outs leaving everyone else to carry his stuff. Also none of his stuff is in cases, that kind of drummer. Second guitarist and bassist I learn are temps as the band doesn’t have a full time solid lineup. Both very pleasant guys who didn’t have the perceived ego of the ‘actual’ band and were fairly chatty. Finally, the vocalist is the guy who got here late and decided to go eat, making us later. He’s a bit posh, a bit quiet, but seems alright.

Can you guess who’s going to turn out to be a massive prick?

So we finally get on our way, and roughly half an hour into the journey DISASTER strikes. One of the TV’s in the back loses power, and they can only watch Green Street on one screen.We’ve previously covered my anxiety when it comes to things like this, and so with this being the first day of a new tour with a new bunch of people I don’t know, I want to try and get it resolved ASAP. I pledge to stop once we’re out of London and take a look at it. This apparently isn’t good enough for geezer guitarist who continues to moan about not being able to watch a film about football hooligans that he’s probably already watched 15 times this year. I carry on regardless, until about 5 minutes later when a horrible acrid burning smell reaches me. I shout to the back, and the verdict is that they can’t see or smell any evidence of a fire or anything to be worried about. I pull over anyway.

It turns out that one of the power cables leading to the now defunct TV has overheated and is melting into itself. I remove the fuse, apologise, and break the news that it’s unlikely that this TV will be back online for the remainder of the tour. Green Street Geezer Guitarist is understandably mortified and begins to display the five stages of grief.

“Nah, it’s fine. I can’t believe this, FUCK! Is there nothing we can do to fix it? This is the worst, I just bought 5 new DVDs for this tour. Alright, fine, we’ll just stream the Chelsea match on my phone instead.”

After a long, football violence-less drive, we arrive in Newcastle. I’m informed we have a travelodge for the night, and we’ll check in there before we load in to the venue. It’s fairly central so i’m a bit worried about parking, but Newcastle isn’t too bad for city centre parking and i’m feeling good about having a bed. We load in, I go for some food with the vocalist and we make the kind of awkward small talk two people who clearly have nothing in common make. I get a pizza with chips on. It’s not good.

I stay for the show, the band are really not to my taste and the headliners even less so. Looks like i’ll be sitting in the van playing 3DS a fair few nights on this run then.

We head back to the travelodge fairly soon after the gig has finished which was surprisingly efficient, but it turns out it’s only because they’re all keen to shower and get changed before they go out and visit Newcastle’s finest clothing removal specialists. I’ve got a key to the room and they don’t need to get in the van, so i have a good nights sleep in a bed.

Day 2 we’re up at a reasonable hour. Those who went out apparently had a great time but are feeling a bit worse for wear, so the consensus is a spoons breakfast, obviously. Spoons is a happy place where nothing bad ever happens, so not much to say about that.

Show 2 is in Peterborough, a grotty forgettable town. Really, that’s what it says on the sign. The gig is super uneventful, and after I realise there’s a huge 24 hour Asda within walking distance of the venue that’s me sorted for entertainment for the evening.

We’re heading to London afterwards to stay at grimey green street guitar geezers gaffe so we have a bit of a drive, which is made all the more fun with a drop off in Welwyn Garden on the way as the singer wants to sleep in his own bed tonight and will get a train to us tomorrow. I’m assured it’s a 2 minute detour, and whilst that’s obviously an understatement it’s not massively far out of the way, so it’s agreed to without much fuss. We drop him off, then proceed to glorious central London. The rest of the guys want to stay up and watch Metallica live shows and in true metal band fashion take up all the comfortable surfaces before I even step foot in the house without a second thought for the well being of the man behind the wheel of the 3.5 tonne deathtrap they’ll be in the back of, so I opt to sleep in the van. As is tradition.

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