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enkelimagnus · 3 years

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Target

Bucky Barnes Gen, 1989 words, rated M for Hydra shit

Jewish Bucky Barnes, pre TFATWS, post Endgame

Bucky left home thinking today was an okay day. Turns out it's a very very bad day.

TW: Explicit description of a PTSD panic attack, dissociation and a flashback. If this is possibly triggering to you, please proceed carefully

Read on AO3

Part 8 of Making a Home - the Jewish Bucky series

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Bucky hates Target.

To be fair, he hates supermarkets and those sorts of shops in general. They make him uncomfortable. They’re too big and too small at the same time, they are arranged in neat aisles that provide way too much cover for possible assaillants, and they’re noisy.

They’re incredibly noisy, with their fluorescent lights, their fridges that are desperately trying to make the food stay cold, there’s always music and people and the beeping of cash registers, the rolling of shopping cart wheels on the floor, the squeaking of shoes.

The lights are white and too bright, and everything smells too much.

They’re overwhelming to him on the best of days, let alone on bad ones. And he’s terrible at planning his grocery runs, so he regularly ends up without food on a bad day. He manages with take out, but it’s still greatly annoying. On those days, all he wants is to stay home and not have to interact with a single person.

Today’s not a bad day. It’s not a good day either. It’s a medium day, and he’s been watching the entrance for thirty minutes. Humanity’s ultimate soldier and the idea of walking into a Target fills him with so much dread he has half a mind to walk home.

But if he does that, he’s gonna starve until the next shopping trip. That’s not an option.

So he’s stalking the place like it’s the location of his next mission, watching people go in and out, counting the number of them, observing them trying to see if he recognizes any face from the sludge he calls his memories.

They are all regular people, there hasn’t even been a single military-aligned person. He can tell, usually, from the way they move. There hasn’t been anyone he’s pinged as dangerous around since he got here, on the rooftop across from the Target and started watching.

Okay. Perhaps this isn’t just a medium day. He’s being ridiculous.

Sharp wind wraps around him and he can feel himself going a little numb from the cold. A couple walks out holding hands. -2. Someone with short blue hair walks in. +1. Empty bags become full. No full bag is emptied. 21% have given to the person asking for money in the corner. A total of 4 dollars and 78 cents if he’s counting well enough, and he usually is, at this distance. One of the people gave water instead of money.

He could stay here forever, counting people and money and compiling numbers in his head. And he does.

He can barely feel his right hand by the time his phone beeps with a message. He startles, shifting from his rigid position, crouched uncomfortably on the rooftop. His entire body aches with cold and having sustained the same stance for…

It’s dark. Night has fallen. He left his place at 1pm. It’s night. He’s missed hours.

He checks the time on his phone. 7.54pm. He’s missed over 7 hours.

The text is from Sam. ‘Hey man. I’m gonna be in New York next week. What about a beer?’

He doesn’t reply. He never does. Sam doesn’t need him around to fuck up his life further than it’s been fucked since Steve pulled him into this whole shitstorm in 2014. Bucky’s the whole reason Sam’s life has been fucked since the beginning.

He’s too sweet for his own good. That already got him arrested once, got him killed as well. Bucky’s not gonna add to that.

He doesn’t need Bucky and his ‘missing 7 hours because he was watching the Target like a crazy person’.

He slowly uncurls himself from his position. His limbs ache and buzz as he shakes off the numbness. It’s a slow process, and he feels every ache and bee-like sting of it. He’s done this thousands of times, he knows how to bring himself back to peak functionality as quietly as possible.

There are two options offered to him at this moment. Go through with going to Target and getting what he needs or go home and order more takeout.

He’s teetering on the edge of a breakdown, he can feel it. But he’s also still in the sort of state where he’d be able to properly conduct a mission if given the opportunity. He can probably handle Target and make it home before he peaks over. Once he breaks, he’s not going to go outside for a while.

He needs the food.

Target it is.

By the time he’s come to that conclusion, all feeling has come back into the three limbs that are his, and he makes it down the emergency staircase smoothly.

His boots hit the ground quietly. All of the decades of training are in play as he slinks towards the store, a shadow, a ghost. He doesn’t have a cap on and nothing to hide his identity, but he’ll be fast enough and no one will realize what happened. They’ll just think he’s one of the crowd.

The lights are incredibly bright and almost blind him as he walks in. The last hour of his watch has been in relative darkness and the neons assault his eyes right when the music assaults his ears and the smells his nose. It’s a cacophony of sensory messages he struggles to parse so he shuts himself out. His shopping list is memorized.

He knows the layout of the store so he doesn’t double back senselessly, he’s precise and fast. He grabs a bag of dried plums, adding that to the list because he knows he’ll like them when he breaks. Everything is piled in his cart in perfect rows, not a single bit of space wasted.

His footsteps don’t make noise. He doesn’t leave prints behind, thanks to the gloves. He can hear the people around him walking, choosing, listening to music in their headphones. He needs quiet.

It takes him 8 min and 33 seconds before he is at the cash register. He nods at the exhausted girl behind the counter and pays cash, grabbing his bag and leaving the store again.

The air isn’t fresh, it’s polluted and heavy and sharp with cold, but when he inhales, a flood of incomprehensible relief opens.

He doesn’t have long until he’ll break. He needs to be home by then. He starts walking.

Running will put a target on his back, so he just walks briskly, slaloming smoothly between the people who cross his path.

A shoulder bumps into him and it’s a woman, with spidery wrinkles around her eyes and at the corner of her mouth, the thick, brown fur of her coat blending into her brown hair. She has no weapon on her and isn’t trained to kill, he can tell, she’s probably a secretary, in this neighborhood. She offers no possible advantage to his mission. Her eyes are blue as the sky above home in summer and they make him stop breathing for a second. Home. Blue skies, a ferris wheel, hotdogs, a skinny blonde guy by his side, a pretty girl with blonde hair. Words in a tongue he doesn’t recognize, an older woman kissing his forehead and Ma?

“Извините, товарищ!” Sorry, comrade.

Moscow. 1966. Assassination mission, Arkady Shostakov. There are guns hidden under the thick winter coat he wears.

He nods at the woman and keeps walking towards his target.

The house he stops in front of doesn’t look like it belongs in Moscow. It’s a townhouse and it brings phantom feelings of home to him.

His right hand finds its way up the doorpost to the small metal case affixed there. Home.

He made it back. Somehow. He blinks hard. He feels a little light-headed. His breath comes in and out in shallow, quick puffs. He’s not breathing in deeply enough, he’s panicking. He’s breaking.

His flesh hand trembles as he unlocks the three locks of the door and shoves his way inside. They keep trembling as he forces the rising panic to stay away as long as it takes to put the fresh food into the fridge so it won’t spoil on the counter.

His entire body is seizing when he sits down on the floor, back against the wall. His throat is already dry. He should have drunk more.

His chest hurts. There’s something squeezing around his heart, a hand attempting to crush it. He can’t die like that, it’s statistically impossible, but what if it isn’t? What if he’s deteriorating, now that he’s not with Hydra’s techs anymore? What if he’s weaker? He hasn’t been as efficient in the field as he used to be. Maybe he’s just… getting worse.

Maybe they were doing something to keep him alive, and without them, he’s gonna die. It feels like it.

He’s cold and sticky and he wants all of this to stop. It feels like dying. It feels… He’s gonna puke.

He can’t make it to the bathroom, he’s going to make a mess and the whole place is going to smell like misery. He’s useless, he’s dying, the world is ending. Standing back up is difficult. He’s choking on nothing, his lungs won’t expand, his chest hurts . Everything hurts. His ears are ringing worse and worse, he can’t see. He’s shutting down. It’s worse than anything he could imagine.

His right hand shakes so hard it slips on the counter. The left hand… shakes too. His whole body is shaking and he feels vomit rising into his throat. He can’t do anything. He can’t swallow it back down. He has no control anymore. He used to have control but all he can do is throw himself towards the sink.

It burns his mouth when it comes out. He’s crying, he’s shaking, something’s ringing in his ears. He can’t feel his own body. He can feel too much. He hasn’t been drinking or eating enough because quickly, there’s nothing left to puke. But he can’t stop. His body rebels, and heaves out gastric fluids and spit. He feels like his eyes are going to pop out of their sockets with the pressure of the heaving. His body wants to expel something, he can’t tell what.

It lasts forever. He can’t stop. He can’t control. The burn in his mouth is second to the pain in his chest. He’s drowning on air.

Eventually, his body stops trying to puke. He’s left on trembling legs, holding into the counter for dear life. So weak.

He wishes he wasn’t alone. He wishes Steve or his ma would be there to cradle him against their chest and tell him he’s okay. To touch him, reassure him, feed him chocolate or fruits or bread and make him drink a little water. To whisper in his ear that he’s home. He’s safe. He wants to hear his mother’s voice sing him a lullabye like when he was a kid and had a nightmare.

She’s gone. She’s never going to sing him those songs in Yiddish or Romanian again. He’s never going to hear her voice again. He lets go of the counter and lets himself slip to the floor. The tiles are cool against his heated skin. He wishes someone would hold him.

No one’s there. No one’s coming for him.

He doesn’t know when he starts to cry but he realizes he can’t remember what his ma’s voice sounded like. He just remembers she sang and it made everything okay.

He misses her every day. He misses all of them every day.

Steve… He misses Steve most of all. He misses his smile and his bravery and tenacity and everything that made him feel alive when he was around him. He misses knowing he wasn’t alone.

He’s alone now. Steve’s gone. He’s being happy. He’s gone. And Bucky’s still there.

He stays on the floor for hours after that, until he passes out from exhaustion.

Today really wasn’t a medium day.

#jewish bucky series #jewish bucky barnes #bucky barnes #mine #fic #marvel

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solangelover · 5 years

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City Date

@solangeloweek‘s Nico di Angelo Birthday Event: January 27 – “Friendship / Relationship”

A/N: I’ve had this WIP forever, I’m so glad it’s finished! Based on this lovely video :) Will and Nico go on their first date in the big city.

Read on AO3 or FF.Net or Wattpad

As he left camp, Will felt freer than he had in a while. He loved Camp Half-Blood, no doubt, but it became stifling when he was constantly working in the infirmary and taking care of his siblings. Leaving camp for something other than a quest meant freedom from typical responsibilities. He always liked the shocked feeling of what life was like before he went to camp. Everything was so normal (mortal normal, not demigod normal) that it was both disorienting and refreshing at the same time.

Also, he got to leave camp with his boyfriend for the first time. That was definitely a plus.

He and Nico had been going out for a couple months, but they never had a date outside of camp. To Will, it almost felt like their first date. It would be the first time they’re together outside of camp without some sort of impending doom looming over them. Will knew it was a bit more risky to be with a child of the Big Three, but he knew Nico was more than capable of protecting both of them, and Will was confident in his own healing abilities if they were ever needed.

The boys decided to just walk around New York City and window shop. Nico hadn’t explored the city much before, at least not with the goal of enjoying himself. Will had become familiar with the city over the years, so he took it upon himself to act as Nico’s tour guide.

“And on your left, you’ll see the Empire State Building. Fun fact: the 100th floor is Olympus!” Will grinned as he put on his little act for his boyfriend.

Nico rolled his eyes, an amused smile on his face. “No duh, Will, not like I haven’t been before.”

“Well sOrry I wasn’t important enough to go along. Maybe next time?” Will winked.

“Uh, no, I’d rather a major event that requires me to go to Olympus not happen, thank you very much.” Nico looked around as they walked, his cheeks a light pink color. Will figured it was due to the slightly nippy breeze. Nico liked to think so too.

Will exclaims, “There!” as they come up to a coffee shop on the corner. “I used to go coffee shop hopping with my siblings for fun. They were really into the whole aesthetic thing before it was a thing.” Will shrugged and held the door open for Nico, who quietly thanked him as he stepped in.

The place was cute – small, but cozy. Lots of woodwork, fake vines lined the walls, little tables for two with succulents were scattered about. The smell of coffee was strong, but not overwhelming. Nico had never really been into this kind of thing, but maybe that’s because he didn’t have anyone to go with.

Will went up to the counter and ordered two hot chocolates for them as Nico grabbed a table near the back. Will probably would’ve liked to sit by the window, but Nico didn’t like having every passersby’s eyes on him. He was slightly on edge, probably because he kept expecting to be attacked. At least, that’s what Nico kept telling himself.

“Here we are!” Will chirped as he set down their drinks. Nico held his gratefully, the warmth seeping into his cold fingers. “So,” Will sipped his cocoa experimentally, “what do you want to do?”

Nico shrugged. He had no clue what to do in the city, let alone on a date. He didn’t know what he was doing, and that made him a little more anxious than usual. To him, New York City was a place where monsters lurked, where he had to stumble around and survive on his own. His memories of the city were darkened with war and solitude. What did Will expect of him?

Before Nico’s thoughts could spiral, Will cut in. “Well, there’s plenty to show you, but I’d rather not run around the city like tourists.” He smiled, and Nico felt a bit of tension leave his shoulders. “I was thinking,” Will leaned forward over the table. “We could just continue walking the streets and stop in random shops, try on silly things, and run out before we get kicked out.” Will grinned wickedly, and it was so foreign to see such mischief on his face that Nico snorted.

“Wow, the city changes you, Solace. And here I thought you were a goody two-shoes.” Nico smirked over his mug as Will leaned back and laughed.

“Hey, I can be a bad boy.” Will wiggled his eyebrows at Nico, who blushed and looked away. No comment back, Will noted. They’re conversation moved on from there and Will never thought twice on it.

As Will said, the boys continued down the busy street, Will pointing out random landmarks or places where he had been before to Nico, who noted everything with vague interest. His eyes kept darting around, tracking every person around them for a second or two before moving to the next person. Will kept telling him not to worry so much, that the monsters wouldn’t do anything crazy right out in the open, but Nico was still on high alert.

Even so, they still stopped at random little stores and looked around. Sometimes, they were genuinely interested in the items. Will picked out a few souvenirs to bring back for his siblings and Nico bought a couple knickknacks for himself. At other stores, they’d try on random hats on the rack and Will would strike silly poses, making Nico giggle. They tried on some sunglasses together and Will snapped some pictures with the digital camera he borrowed from Cecil. They didn’t get kicked out of any stores, much to Will “the bad boy”’s dismay. Will took Nico to a hotdog stand he and his siblings apparently always went to when they took a trip into the city. He didn’t claim it was the best, but it was decent and had good memories for Will, so Nico was content.

The entire time they walked, Will kept trying to hold Nico’s hand. At first, he tried to be subtle, looking away and letting his hand brush Nico’s several times. But Nico didn’t seem to notice, always moving his had to do something else. Then Will tried being more obvious, glancing down at their hands and hooking their pinkies together. But, again, Nico pulled his hand away and would scratch his head or something. Will frowned, starting to wonder if Nico didn’t want to hold his hand. They did it all the time at camp. Granted, it took awhile before Nico did it in view of other campers, but now it was normal. And, right now, he didn’t really think a bunch of strangers seeing them was worse than all of their friends and fellow campers.

After leaving another shop, Will tried again. This time, he directly grabbed Nico’s hand and chatted excitedly, trying to brush over the hand-holding. It worked for a little – then it didn’t.

Nico noticed Will grab his hand instantly, and he felt his heartbeat pick up. He tried to listen to what Will was talking about, but his eyes instinctively glanced around them. Almost no one paid them any mind, too focused on their own tasks, but a few glanced at them. Some of them looked directly at their linked hands. They passed by too quickly, but Nico could imagine the disgusted looks on their faces. He could feel his anxiety growing and subtly disentangled their fingers, moving his hands to adjust his jacket. Nico saw Will give him a side glance as he stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets – his hands were cold.

Something was off, Will knew it. At the next coffee shop they saw, Will pulled Nico into it, telling him that he was cold and wanted something hot to drink. Nico put up no protest, simply nodding his head and walking over to a table in the far corner of the shop, again. Will frowned after him, confirming his suspicion that something was bothering Nico. At this point, Nico was barely making any comments, letting Will carry the conversation. While this was pretty normal, Nico usually cut in with his sarcasm and dry humor every once in a while. Will couldn’t think of what could have gone wrong since their day started out so well, but he would find out.

Will brought their drinks back to the table. He thought about sliding in next to Nico on the bench, but Nico didn’t seem to want that. He took up as much of the bench as he could and sat pointedly across from the chair on the other side of the table. Will sighed as he sat in the chair instead.

“So,” Will started off casually. “Are you enjoying the city?”

Nico shrugged, “It’s cool, I guess.”

Will frowned. “Okay, um, well are you having fun on our date?”

At that, Nico appeared to tense up a little, his eyes darting behind Will’s head before returning to his mug. “Yeah, it’s great.” He took a tentative sip of his latte, but it’s still too hot to drink properly. He scowled at it, but Will thought he was upset at more than the coffee.

“Nico,” he sighed, “what’s wrong?’

Nico blinked up in surprise at the question. “Nothing?”

Will gave him an unconvinced look. “Then why does it feel like you’ve been avoiding me?”

Nico’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, though he was starting to catch on. “What do you mean, I’ve been with you all day.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” Will glanced down at his drink, slightly self-conscious. “You won’t let me hold your hand, or just stand close to you.”

Nico pressed his lips into a line. “You… know I don’t like PDA,” he stated hesitantly.

“But this is more than that. You seem,” Will searched for the word, “… distant.”

Nico looked away towards the front of the coffee shop. He scowled as more people came in the door.

“Are you… I mean, are we… okay?” That brought Nico’s attention back to the blonde boy in front of him. Will looked so worried and unsure that Nico felt guilty.

“What? No, I mean, yes, of course we’re good. Why would you think that?” Nico had given him good enough reason, he knew. He sighed, slumping down in his seat. “It’s just…”

Will waited. “Just…?”

“It’s just… hard, you know?” Nico glanced up before staring back down at his mug. “I see people look at us, and all I can think about is the horrible things they must be thinking. You would think I’d be used to it by now,” he scoffed.

Will’s uncertainty melted into understanding. Of course, of course this was a lot for Nico to handle. It was their first time out of camp together, the first time Nico has really been out in the world having come out to people, and now with a boyfriend. Will felt dumb for not considering his boyfriend’s feelings before.

Will reached for Nico’s hand that wasn’t gripping his mug, and for the first time all day, Nico didn’t pull away. Instead, he flipped his hand over and squeezed Will’s tightly.

“I get it, Nico. I’m so sorry for not thinking of that earlier.” Nico shook his head, but Will kept going. “No, I am sorry. It’s not something you should have to just get used to so quickly. It takes time.” Will smiled softly at Nico. “But I like you, a lot, and that’s what really matters here, not any random stranger on the street’s opinion. I just want to be able to show you off, and shove it in everyone’s face how much I like you.”

Nico chuckled, and Will counted that as a win. “Yeah, I know.”

Will grinned, his smile brightening up Nico’s mood, just a little. How could he be ashamed of who he is with this boy at his side?

“You know I like you, too, right? Like a lot.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Do I have to show it in front of all these people?”

Will squeezed his hand. “I’m just asking for small steps.”

“Those steps aren’t that small.” But Nico still squeezed back.

“I’m sure the Ghost King will manage.” Nico rolled his eyes and Will beamed. “Besides, I’ll be there with you the whole way.”

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