#17rustedfreightcar

[bastardsunlight]

@junkdrawerkids

[junkdrawerkids]

Cont’d from Here with icnaai

She was friendly, which... made it difficult to tell if that was good or bad. She seemed innocent enough. The trick was to not look as paranoid as he felt. She might’ve been a small, slight young woman. She could’ve just as easily been a deep cover spy, sent to root out the Winter Soldier.

But. He offered a better smile and shook her hand, glad she was right handed. Last thing he needed was his goddamn metal arm giving him away.

“James,” he said, giving her a slight nod. “Thanks for saving my book.”

There. That was it. He’d interacted with a person. Now he needed to go before she remembered him. Fuck, he shouldn’t have said his real name. He should’ve started moving by now. He didn’t owe her anything and he had an identity to hide. She didn’t seem like a threat, but he could never be sure, even with kind strangers.

[junkdrawerkids]

BUCKY. Steve's tits... are they grabbable or nah

[bastardsunlight]

the good old days

closed starter with @junkdrawerkids

“I had ‘em, Buck’,” Steve reassured his friend as they hobbled their way into Steve’s apartment. If he’d said the same thing seventy years ago, he’d have gotten the same response, probably. Bucky was, to this day, still exceedingly protective of his best friend.

Now, Steve could be, too.

If asked, he would not have been able to lie and say that it did not make him feel wonderful, knowing that he was finally a truly formidable opponent due to more than just pure tenacity. However, at the moment, he was feeling just a little like he used to after taking a fierce licking in some alley.

“D'ya see where I put my—oh, ah, never mind,” he spied his first aid kit simply sitting on the counter, still un-stowed from last time he’d done this. Fury preferred they report directly to the SHIELD helicarrier after missions, but Steve never did. He needed the comfort of patching himself up at home; it felt comfortingly like the old days, one arm over Bucky’s wide shoulders, leaning heavily upon him, nursing a bloody nose, or lip and watching bruises begin to bloom on pale flesh.