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@barneswinters

There was a beauty in simplicity. Life was — as a rule of thumb — complicated. Its sharp teeth spared no mercy when it opened its maw and ripped people apart. It was hard to deny that life was a bitch. A mean, messy, bitch. While that would normally warrant some appreciation, the world's commitment to screwing over those who lived in it was getting dreadfully old.

Complaining about it would have been too easy. The Red Room cultivated a strict vocabulary and severed the tongues of those who spoke out of turn. Even free from its hold, Yelena found no benefits in whining. Life dealt a shit hand, but that didn't guarantee a loss. As it stood, the former Widow was playing her cards close to her chest. Even now, in this strange new reality, she adapted. It was that or die — and death didn't seem interested in her yet. If she couldn't die, the least Yelena could do was enjoy herself.

Overall, it was easier said than done.

By disposition, Yelena found herself to be lighter (at times) than her upbringing would have permitted. That's not to say she was happy. There were moments of happiness, of course. Small choices like choosing to put a plaid jacket over plaid trousers felt like acts of defiance against the machine that had made her. Before, she was one bullet in the gun. Now, she was her own: autonomous and whole. And maybe, one day, she would be happy.

That being said, beautiful simplicity still lived in minor things. Case and point: macaroni & cheese with hot sauce. In her home reality, her apartment had a cabinet devoted solely to different hot sauces as she tried to determine which was the best. She had narrowed it down to three finalists, and they sat in a row on the countertop. Yelena had opted out of living in the Avengers Compound with the others who were stranded; she wasn't a team player (despite being on a team) and the desired solitude that came with having her own personal space. Still, she haunted the halls when the mood struck her. The other Thunderbolts weren't much for company — aka they sucked — and there was always a chance she could find out more about dear, darling, dead Natasha if she brushed elbows with the so-called heroes.

"Hey, hey," the pot in her hand waved as another entered the room. "Sit down." It's then that the face triggers something in her mind. James Buchanan Barnes: the Winter Soldier. Their connection to Mother Russia went uncommented on. "Your tastebuds are working, yes? I need them."

#starter #bucky #barneswinters #mcu

@barneswinters continued from here

he's immediately thankful for the pivot in conversation topics, even if this new one isn't one he's necessarily eager to speak about either. "no, but word travels fast. not to mention that absolute shitshow in times square. what the hell is going on, dude–"

#bucky / c.#barneswinters #mcu / u.

@barneswinters

At this point, it almost seems appropriate to describe the relationship of Natasha and the Bucky Barnes of Earth-199999 as one that thrives in conflict. When they came together during Pleasant Hill, it had been out of necessity. Natasha was a dog with a scent and Bucky had a stake in the fate of the townspeople. Along with the small team she had compiled of her San Fransisco associates and Daisy Johnson, they had worked well together. Their relationship doesn’t rival the one she has with her James Barnes, but it’s good all the same. Natasha isn’t looking to cut another James sized hole in her life.

Instead, she meets with this other Bucky under the cover of night. It’s a bit on the nose for an assassin to meet in the shadows, but Natasha’s had too many sleepless nights to give a damn about irony. Instead, she tucks her hands into the black leather pockets of her coat. “I need the fresh air,” she explains. Without thinking is, Natasha rolls her left shoulder back and flexes the fingers. It’s been a while since her once severed arm was returned to her body, but the unconscious tic remains.

“As a rule of thumb, I’ve never classified you and I as lucky ones.” That’s what they are, though. They avoided the carnage that was the Avengers Mansion explosion. “But one of my best friends died, and I’m worried about him. I think you’re in the same boat. Once again, we have something in common.”

#bucky #barneswinters #bb01

@barneswinters

Steve went through his normal morning ritual. Up at 5:30, large glass of water, nutritional drink, followed directly by a 37 mile run, shield out, around all of Brooklyn. That run was one of his favorite parts of the day. A chance to clear his mind and take in his life before the shield; which largely consisted of seeing places he used to get beat up in. That and waving and saying good morning to all the people of the borough.

He made his normal stop at his favorite food cart to take a breather. He chatted with Enzo, the owner, let some kids and adults living out their childhood fantasy of wielding the shield and pretending to be a super hero, and had his water.

He lingered a bit longer than usual making small talk and taking pictures, not because he wanted to, but because he was nervous and procrastinating in a way. Today he and Bucky, well, this world’s Bucky agreed to meet up and go through where they evidently both grew up spending a lot of time with each other’s counterparts. He was nervous he’d leave a bad impression or that Buck thought he’d be trying to replace his Steve. There was no avoiding it though, he had to face it head on and time was of the essence.

After making it home from his run he hopped in the shower, shave, and at a full breakfast. His goal was to be discrete, so he through on a hat, sunglasses and dressed as uninspiring as possible before making his way to the street corner they used to meet on in both universes.

As he approached Bucky was already there. Steve grinned and gave a quick wave to Bucky. “Hey Buck!” He paused for a moment before over thinking “Or would you prefer if I called by a different name. I understand if we’re not there yet.” He said with a faint and awkward chuckle.