[ Although his memory still isn’t a hundred percent, and maybe it never will be, Bucky remembers being sent on missions. They were usually cold and dangerous, involving a lot of crawling through mud and underbrush in the middle of the night to some enemy encampment. Occasionally there was an infiltration job. Maybe one or two that required a disguise. But more often than not, they typically ended with an assault, guns blazing and enemy soldiers dying in droves.
Things were different with Hydra. There was less dirt and noise, more ice and stealth and long periods of silent darkness. And pain. Bucky remembers a lot of pain. More with Hydra than the American army, but pain’s been a constant since he went off to war and never really came home.
There’s no pain on this mission. No cold. No discomfort. He’s with his best friend, his other half, the one person in the world he trusts beyond the faintest hint of doubt. In a way, it’s a little absurd. Steve’s terrible at undercover work. He thinks he’s great at it, but even if he didn’t know him better than he knows himself, Bucky could spot him a mile off. This whole honeymoon in Vegas thing they’re doing to try to catch a Hydra agent who’d gone to ground following the collapse of SHIELD seems a little beyond Steve’s pay grade.
But there’s no one else Bucky could actually fake being married to, so it was Steve in his crappy disguises or scrapping the plan with the most chance of success and attempting a frontal assault that might cause their quarry to go to ground. What else could they really do?
Their arrival goes without a hitch. They get to Vegas, they get their room, they go to dinner, and they have a nice time together seeing the sights, scoping out the territory and trying to get a read on their target. As supersoldiers, they don’t need to sleep, but regular men, on the first night of their honeymoon no less, do and eventually they have to call it a night. Steve goes to take a shower and Bucky should put on his pajamas, turn on the TV, maybe get out a book, and settle in for the night. But he should do a lot of things, and over the course of his life, he’s proven not particularly inclined to doing what he should.
When the sound of the shower cuts off, he strips down to his boxers, runs his fingers through his hair until it’s a rumpled mess, and then pours himself across the bed in his best attempt at a seductive sprawl. That there are still rose petals strewn over the bedspread—part of the hotel’s thoughtful nod to romance, the champagne and selection of chocolate currently sitting out of the way on the nearby table —makes it all that much more ludicrous, which is entirely the point. Because when the door opens and Steve walks out, Bucky shoots him his most sultry come-hither look and pats the top of the mattress with his flesh hand. ]
Come here, Steve. [ A lifetime ago, Bucky considered himself gifted at the art of seduction. He doesn’t remember how he used to do it, but he tries his damnedest now, pitching his voice as low and throaty as possible without making himself sound so idiotic that he gives the game away. ] It’s time to consummate our marriage.
no subject
Things were different with Hydra. There was less dirt and noise, more ice and stealth and long periods of silent darkness. And pain. Bucky remembers a lot of pain. More with Hydra than the American army, but pain’s been a constant since he went off to war and never really came home.
There’s no pain on this mission. No cold. No discomfort. He’s with his best friend, his other half, the one person in the world he trusts beyond the faintest hint of doubt. In a way, it’s a little absurd. Steve’s terrible at undercover work. He thinks he’s great at it, but even if he didn’t know him better than he knows himself, Bucky could spot him a mile off. This whole honeymoon in Vegas thing they’re doing to try to catch a Hydra agent who’d gone to ground following the collapse of SHIELD seems a little beyond Steve’s pay grade.
But there’s no one else Bucky could actually fake being married to, so it was Steve in his crappy disguises or scrapping the plan with the most chance of success and attempting a frontal assault that might cause their quarry to go to ground. What else could they really do?
Their arrival goes without a hitch. They get to Vegas, they get their room, they go to dinner, and they have a nice time together seeing the sights, scoping out the territory and trying to get a read on their target. As supersoldiers, they don’t need to sleep, but regular men, on the first night of their honeymoon no less, do and eventually they have to call it a night. Steve goes to take a shower and Bucky should put on his pajamas, turn on the TV, maybe get out a book, and settle in for the night. But he should do a lot of things, and over the course of his life, he’s proven not particularly inclined to doing what he should.
When the sound of the shower cuts off, he strips down to his boxers, runs his fingers through his hair until it’s a rumpled mess, and then pours himself across the bed in his best attempt at a seductive sprawl. That there are still rose petals strewn over the bedspread—part of the hotel’s thoughtful nod to romance, the champagne and selection of chocolate currently sitting out of the way on the nearby table —makes it all that much more ludicrous, which is entirely the point. Because when the door opens and Steve walks out, Bucky shoots him his most sultry come-hither look and pats the top of the mattress with his flesh hand. ]
Come here, Steve. [ A lifetime ago, Bucky considered himself gifted at the art of seduction. He doesn’t remember how he used to do it, but he tries his damnedest now, pitching his voice as low and throaty as possible without making himself sound so idiotic that he gives the game away. ] It’s time to consummate our marriage.