Three ficlets from tumblr

[dira]

I've written three ficlets (so far) for a tumblr meme asking me to do another POV of something I've already written in a story in progress. So these are sort of fanfic of fic I haven't finished writing yet, and I wanted to put them over here just to preserve them in the "orphan" tag. And to preserve them in general.

From my 87,000-words-and-counting epic Bucky recovery fic:

For summercomfort, an original character POV on Bucky Barnes at the start of his recovery:

Staff Sergeant Eric Andrews had seen the videos. He’d sat through the briefing. He knew as much as anyone in the US Army did of what Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, allegedly AKA the Winter Soldier, was capable of. And lucky him, he was one of the two volunteers tapped for his welcoming committee, which meant he was one of the few people anywhere in MEDCOM to see what Bucky Barnes looked like when Captain America brought him in.

He looked tired, Andrews thought. He looked like he was about a year past time to rotate home, like he’d been stop-lossed half to death.

Andrews was an MP; he knew exactly how out of hand advanced combat training could get when some half-crazy bastard turned it on the wrong targets. He also knew plenty of guys who could kill you with their bare hands and would never hurt a fly if flies weren’t covered by the rules of engagement. It was a job, like any job, and Andrews knew plenty of guys who were successful at clocking out when the job was done.

He couldn’t say if Barnes was one of those, not at the first glance. He just looked exhausted. He seemed to use up all his ability for words or facial expressions on the little he said to Captain Rogers, and once Rogers was gone Barnes went blank-faced and silent. He shrugged and muttered, “Short,” when the hospital barber asked him how he wanted his hair, which earned him a buzz cut. He glanced at himself in the mirror when it was done and seemed to have no reaction at all.

He made no objection to Andrews and Mueller following him into the shower room while he stripped and scrubbed down. Every motion he made was efficient–not mechanical, despite the shiny metal arm, but like he was conserving his energy, bracing himself for the next attack or just trying to last until he could hit his bedroll.

When he saw that no one had issued him boots to go with his fatigues, Barnes didn’t ask why. He didn’t even ask for boots. He just pocketed his socks, flicking a cautious glance at Andrews and Mueller like they might take his socks away, or tell him he had to wear them and slide all over the linoleum floors.

Fuck it, Andrews thought, watching Barnes’ bare feet as he flanked him down to Dr. Lind’s office. I don’t care what you did on the clock, Sarge. I’m not scared of you.


For shamwowxl, for the same story as the above, Steve receives a phone call:

It was the middle of a Wednesday morning. Steve was grocery shopping by tapping things on a tablet, trying not to imagine what else he’d be ordering when Bucky came home, when his phone rang. The number that came up had a Texas area code but wasn’t any of the dozen contact numbers Steve had programmed in while negotiating for Bucky’s treatment, but it couldn’t be about anything else.

“Rogers here,” Steve said, making his voice brisk and bracing for disaster. “Is everything okay?”

“Captain,” the voice on the other end said, and Steve immediately recognized the voice of Major Exley, commanding officer of Bucky’s unit. “Before I try to brief you further, could you please raise your voice slightly and ask Sergeant Barnes to cooperate with the medics?“

Steve went cold, and he straightened up, squaring his shoulders, tapping at his tablet to pull up a message system. He could pull Sam and Nat no questions asked, maybe Clint, they could go down there and put the fear of God into whoever was doing something to Bucky that he didn’t want to cooperate with.

Out loud, Steve said, “I’m not asking Bucky to cooperate with anything if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

There was silence on the other end–he could hear Exley breathing quietly, and when he strained he could pick up the sounds of other people nearby, rustling of clothes, shifting feet, a metallic clink that could only be weapons, but no overt sounds of movement, and no sound from Bucky.

Then Exley said, "Thank you, Captain, that did the trick. Sergeant Barnes has had a bit of an incident, and I’m afraid some people have been hurt. He wants to speak to you.”



And from a story that is nearly finished being written as a fill over at hydratrashmeme:

For rubynye, Bucky's view on taking care of Steve after a rough bout of BDSM sex:


Bucky would be content to stand in the shower with Steve hanging off him for more or less the rest of his life, but JARVIS and all the websites he’d consulted were pretty clear about the fact that at this point Steve should be lying down and having something to drink and eat. Supersoldier or not, he needed to rest after what Bucky had just put him through, and the way he kept leaning more heavily onto Bucky just confirmed it.

He’d wanted to get cleaned up, though, and so far he’d done nothing but let the water run down his back. Bucky didn’t think that was going to do the trick, although it might make Steve too sleepy to care anymore.

Only one to find out. “We need to get you clean so you can come to bed with me and take a nap, Stevie.”

Steve burrowed in tighter, pressing his face against Bucky’s right shoulder, but there was no mistaking what he said. “Hurts.”

Bucky went rigid at that, but he pushed the tide of fury away. He could kick his own ass later. Right now he had to take care of Steve, and overreacting wasn’t going to help.

He kept his voice and his touch modulated as he said, "Well now you really have to let me look, babydoll. Come on, I won’t touch, I won’t get any nasty soap or hot water on you, but you’ve gotta let me make sure you’re not hurt too bad.“

“Not like that,” Steve muttered, managing to pack all the scornful stubbornness of a lifetime spent insisting he was fine into three words. Bucky let himself smile where Steve couldn’t see. That level of petulance meant it really wasn’t too bad, not given Steve’s new body, but Bucky still wasn’t going to let him get away with anything.

“Let me check,” Bucky repeated, making his voice sergeant-stern, and he felt it in Steve’s whole body when he decided to be a good officer and do what Bucky told him without making a scene. Bucky was able to break his grip and turn him to face the shower wall, and he redirected the spray of water so it wouldn’t run down his back and straight onto his ass as soon as he let Bucky look.

The first look was bad enough: Steve’s bruises had all darkened while they were standing in the shower, so Bucky could make out the purple-black imprints of both his hands on Steve’s hips, darker on the left. In between, both cheeks of his ass were mottled red with lighter bruises. Nothing Bucky could wash away.

He took a breath and reached down to touch the inside of Steve’s thigh, encouraging him to spread his legs so he could take a look.

Comments

[dira]

That whole story is in Bucky's POV, but Andrews is a very important character!

Here's part of his first real interaction with Bucky, from Bucky's side:

"Looking for something, Sergeant?" Andrews asked.

Bucky froze, keeping his gaze fixed on the book, and then figured, what the hell? He slouched back in his seat and looked up to meet Andrews' gaze, which was somewhere between curious and challenging.

"The regs don't say anything about sodomy," Bucky said. "Just wondering what the penalty is for that these days."

Andrews tilted his chin up, giving Bucky a long look, and then he shook his head. "There isn't one, Sarge. It's legal, and it's okay by the regs. People can love who they love, it isn't any of Uncle Sam's business. Hell, I'm from Iowa, we got gay marriage. We don't judge soldiers for their sexual orientation."

Bucky stared, trying to make sense of that. "Sexual orientation?" he asked finally, leaving the mind-boggling concept of gay marriage alone.

"You know, gay or straight, whatever. People are born liking what they like, so the Army's not in the business of telling them they shouldn't, not anymore. You call another soldier a faggot or a cocksucker or something, he actually might be, and there's not a damn thing wrong with that."

Bucky frowned down at the page in front of him. He didn't think that made any sense. There had been Steve, he knew, and there had been women, and there had been everything else that happened since. He had no idea what he could claim to like anymore, except for Steve, but he was pretty sure he was a long way from however he'd been born. And even before Hydra did anything to him, he was pretty sure he'd had sex with women and sex with men--it hadn't even just been Steve. He couldn't remember any women since Hydra took him, though.

"So people are just one or the other?" Bucky asked, not looking up. That didn't sound right. Steve had adored Agent Carter, and every other guy Bucky had ever had sex with went after dames too. That was what a man did: he dated women, eventually he married a woman, and if he did things with other fellas sometimes, blowing off steam, having some fun, making do when there wasn't a woman in his life, that was still... kind of normal. Close enough, as long as only other fellas like him knew what he was up to. Maybe the rules were subtler now; maybe you could have one or the other but you had to choose.

"Oh, uh, no, some people like both," Andrews said. "That's called bisexual."

Bucky picked his head up and stared at Andrews. "Bisexual."

"Yeah," Andrews said. "That's allowed too. People like who they like, and some people are assholes about it, but as long as you're in uniform you stick to the policy of the United States Army, which is that it's none of your goddamn business who anybody wants to sleep with unless they're offering to have sex with you, and then if they're not your type you say no politely and move on. You got that?"

Bucky nodded slowly. "Got it."

"And if anybody on your reintegration team actually tries that shit on you," Andrews added, abruptly sounding almost angry, "Man or woman, whether you're into them or not--if anybody tries to get in your pants while you're on this base, Barnes, you should know that that is not fucking well allowed, all right? Nobody who's around you right now should be making moves on you like that, and if anybody does you tell Major Exley about it. And if it's Exley, or if Exley doesn't listen, you fucking tell me and I'll go as high as I have to to get him busted for it."

Bucky blinked. Andrews didn't seem angry with him. Andrews seemed angry at the idea of someone trying to have sex with Bucky. That seemed important somehow, but Bucky just nodded and looked down at the page in front of him. OTHER PROHIBITED RELATIONSHIPS. They didn't specify the reintegration team, but he supposed it must fall under a similar standard. Despite his physical abilities, he was outranked by everyone here; no one else he'd seen was a prisoner-patient.

He glanced up at Andrews, who was watching him intently, and he felt an impulse he mostly associated with his memories of Steve.

Keeping his own face very serious, Bucky said, "What if it's you trying to get into my pants?"

Andrews looked startled and then somewhere between irritated and amused, and Bucky felt a little glow of satisfaction.

"You're not my type, Barnes," Andrews said. "Don't sweat it."

[rachelmanija]

Oh, man, culture shock central!

I love Bucky fucking with him.

[dira]

Ahahaha, yes, indeed. Andrews' job is partly to apply gentle, controlled doses of culture shock--Bucky has orientation sessions with him to get caught up on the 21st century. :) And, of course, having grown up with Steve Rogers, naturally the ability to mess with the people around him is one of the first social skills Bucky regains.