video: 12

[yourbestguysgun]

[ He's holding up a sugar dispenser, that's all the video feed consists of, Bucky's hand as he turns it around, watching the yellow grains turn over and over. ] Sand. [ Captain obvious, but he seems to figure there's something off about it. ] That's the third thing today that's had sand in it an' it's early hours yet.

[ And it is, he's in the diner pretty early, probably pleased that he doesn't take anything in his coffee. Hopefully it didn't have sand in it, but it looks so far, so good. Bucky needs that.

Because this is at least distracting, so what the hell. ] Anyone got any ideas?

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[punchedhitler]

[He hates this part, the waiting, the watching, the possibility of his friends doing something ridiculously stupid]

I offered to take Tony for a drink. I think people keep saying no cause I can't.

[yourbestguysgun]

[ Bucky almost laughs at that, shakes his head. ]

S'why I had to make Ames my drinking partner. Can't get off your face if y'know a guy can't.

[ And then --. ] Look, I may not get on with the guy, but I don't hate him. Y'want me to try?

[punchedhitler]

Sorry.

[A short nod]

He'll say no if you don't do it on the sly.

[yourbestguysgun]

Okay. I'll work on it, and you can stop tyin' yourself up in knots.

[punchedhitler]

Yeah?

[A sheepish pause]

I think you know me too well.

[yourbestguysgun]

Don't sweat it, I got your back.

[punchedhitler]

[Steve strolls but he's gotta stop at home to get his drawing stuff...also to change out of his sweaty clothes]

[yourbestguysgun]

[ He's pretty serious about this stalking thing, Steve. Besides, Crepe probably misses him. ]

[punchedhitler]

[When they get up there, Steve heads into his room, even tho Crepe is doing the underfoot dance of joy]

Have you seen my artpad?

[It had gotten lost in a shuffle of Steve cleaning like a madman.]

[yourbestguysgun]

[ Rifling through everything he can find, calling out. ] No, where did y'see it last?

[punchedhitler]

The couch when Peggy came over.

[Steve comes out of his room; his shirt is mostly done up]

[yourbestguysgun]

[ Searching down the back of it. ] Uh --. Crepe might've ate it.

[punchedhitler]

[He trips over Crepe who trips on sand - it was bound to happen - and breaks the table falling onto it.]

Bucky.

There's sand everywhere.

[yourbestguysgun]

[ Twisting. ] You broke our table.

[punchedhitler]

[Yes, Bucky, he knows, as he's currently picking shards of it out of his arm]

Were you attached to it?

[yourbestguysgun]

[ Well, that's not funny. Bucky clambours off the couch to get to him. ] How bad is it?

[punchedhitler]

[He points]

Covered in sand!

[Of course he doesn't mean his wounds, duh.]

[yourbestguysgun]

We can talk about the sand after, is your arm okay?

[punchedhitler]

[Steve looks at it and picks another piece out of his arm, then flexes his hand]

It feels okay. I mean it hurts a little, but not too bad.

[yourbestguysgun]

Christ.

[ Steve may be a super soldier, but that doesn't mean Bucky hasn't decided to go fucking pale. Thank you heightened level of fear related to Steve. Hands sliding up the other side of his arm to inspect it for himself. ]

[punchedhitler]

You look like a ghost.

[Steve kind of wishes that Bucky didn't know how terrible it felt to know his best friend dies. It's not too bad, but they might need tweezers to get all the splinters out]

[yourbestguysgun]

You look like a jerk who broke our table.

[ He's mean because he loves, swatting him lightly up the back of the head. ] Stay here, I'll go get the first aid kit. [ Where the tweezers live. ]

[punchedhitler]

[Steve moves to the couch. Crepe looks properly ashamed of herself]

Aw, hey, this wasn't your fault.

[Yes, Steve is talking to the dog]

[yourbestguysgun]

[ Calling out from the bathroom. ] Bite him, you'll feel better.

[punchedhitler]

You can do it for her.

[Crepe is sniffing the table and looking up at Steve. She still hasn't quite forgiven him for Peggy]