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?

Comments

[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]

[yourbestguysgun]

[ Don't traumatise his dog with ladies, Steve. ]

Well, if I did it, it'd be a whole different ballgame. [ Coming back with the first aid kit. ]

[punchedhitler]

[Steve amazing, doesn't blush. Maybe he's getting used to this]

Yeah, okay. Come on, master doctor, operate.

[yourbestguysgun]

[ He'll try harder. ]

Jerk. [ Sitting beside him, Bucky flicks open the case, takes Steve's hand to gently move his arm for a better vantage point. ] I hate you.

[punchedhitler]

Not even a little.

[Steve lets himself be manhandled. After all it's not the first time]

[yourbestguysgun]

[ And if Bucky takes extra care, he refuses to mention it, lifting the tweezers free. ]

A whole lot.

The most, actually.

[punchedhitler]

I'll make sure we tell Hitler.

[yourbestguysgun]

Before or after you punch him for the hundredth time?

[punchedhitler]

I once had a little kid ask me-

[Pause as a particularly deep splinter comes out, he makes a face]

-why I just punched him and let the war go on.

I blame the comic book.

[yourbestguysgun]

Ruinin' little kid's lives everywhere, you punk.

[punchedhitler]

I told him my sidekick distracted me and he got away.