Marge waits for Gale in Eternity, but so does John. Marge thinks he's waiting for his wife, but she comes and goes, John gently breaking to Josephine that he at least needs to try, that he feels it in his bones that he and Gale would've been happy together if things had been different. This is his last chance and he's sorry. He kisses her tears and tells her he does love her, he did, but the unspoken acknowledgement is he loves Gale more. She doesn't deserve eternity with someone filled with regret.
Marge waits 55 years. John waits 47. They talk a lot, get to know each other better than they ever did while living. John admits what she's already begun to suspect. I'm in love with your husband. I always have been. They're sitting at the bar with whisky soured breath. Marge is quiet for a long time.
When she finally speaks it's with a bittersweet determination. He talked about you every day. I'm sure he still does now. He and I, well, our happiness was brief but it was tangible. John, you and Gale deserve that too. The world wasn't ready for it yet, but this isn't that world. He chose me because he loved me, but I think I always knew part of it was because he had to. I won't let him make that choice again. It wouldn't be fair to any of us.
John looks down into his empty glass. Are you sure?
She laughs. No, but it's what I'm going to do, and when he gets here I'll tell him so. I want to wait for our girls. I never did get to see them grow up. There's so many things I'd like to ask them.
But who knows how much longer you'll have to wait?
Marge shrugs, wipes her eyes. John takes her hand where it's resting on the bar top and squeezes. He doesn't know how to put into words how grateful he is.
What if it's all a mistake, what if he doesn't want me?
He will, Marge says. He will.
John waits in the lounge every day, leg bouncing restlessly. He chain smokes gloriously. It's like they said: smoking can't kill you twice.
Gale walks through the front doors to the after life exactly how John remembers him. Like in the next moment, they'll be shaking hands on the tarmac and going back up in the air.
John stands. Gale Cleven, your two o'clock. Gale turns and the smile that bursts across his face is illuminating.
John tries not to let his voice break, but he's trembling. What took you so long?
Gale doesn't reply to the taunt, just pulls John against him. I missed you, he murmurs. Missed you so goddamn much, Bucky.
I know, John soothes. I know. I ain't ever leaving you again.
They move into a condo only a few months after Tyler’s mother dies. It’s a lifeless, smoothed out shell. Everything is brand new, the remnants of Tyler’s childhood he wasn’t able to pack sold or donated or thrown out. Somehow his mother still haunts the space, the absence of her memory more jarring than any presence of grief could be. Most mornings he sits at the kitchen island drinking coffee, looks around for any indicator that his father lives there and finds none. Today, he grips the counter while bile rises in the back of his throat and he stares at the lipstick stained espresso cup sitting in the sink.
He’s already thinking about escape, the quickest route out of dinner table conversation, an empty pause where he can excuse himself. He fades in and out of normalcy, forgets why he wanted to leave, feels maybe happy until the next innocuous comment that still stings, his dad’s old habit of making Bucky lose his goddamn mind.
He makes faces in the bathroom mirror, knows its him but can’t shake the feeling he’s not really there. He begs his sister to go on a walk so they can smoke; it works because their parents like the idea of them spending time together. She asks how Tyler is and he can’t answer, accepts the cold shoulder she gives him when they get home. They’re only four years apart; Tyler was her friend growing up too.
seven(ish) sentence friday sunday ! thank u for the tag @swifty-fox
Gale’s only run from one thing in his life (or at least that’s what he tells himself). He’d overheard once that you can never beat your dad in a fist fight, first you’re too young and then you don’t want to. It’s probably supposed to be about love; by the time you’re old enough to win you’ll have reconciled your past, realized it was all just tough love and a rebellious streak. Gale didn’t have that realization. He wanted nothing more than to grind his father up under his heel, but he simply couldn’t. He couldn’t win. So he ran. Worked his ass off, applied to as many eligible scholarships as he could find, and fled to the furthest university to accept him.
He hasn’t run away from anything since. Not from any sort of personal strength or noble goal, but a murky mixture of cowardice and exhaustion that has him avoid any situations that might warrant it. He doesn't isolate himself; he has friends, he’s gone out with a few girls that asked him, but nothing sticks. It's just a fact to Gale that there's no one alive who knows him anymore.
tagging @shipstorms @bcolfanfic and @alienoresimagines if you wannnnt <3
thank you for the tag @shipstorms ! (and can I just say I am obsessed with the snippet you shared)
a scene from chapter 3 of my re-incarnation au from tyler's pov, helped me get into the headspace and figure out what he and bucky would do after their fight... I want to try writing more of these especially for Gale and then can publish them as little side stories heheheh :^)
He doesn’t understand at first; a terrible moment where he stares at the after-image of Bucky in the doorway, his fist closed around nothing.
It crashes over him in seconds, an unbearable reality that sends him lashing out against the kitchen chairs. He shoves them across the floor and screams into his hands. Bucky walked out on him. He slams an open palm into the cupboard above the sink and squeezes his eyes shut, bites down on one knuckle and tries to breathe. How did Tyler lose him? At one point they wouldn’t have fought like this, not in a way that mattered. He thought he’d given up trying to untangle the twisting evolution of their relationship, but the question always comes back to haunt him. As if knowing exactly where they went wrong would let him save things.
going to tag @swifty-fox @feyd-meowtha @thoughpoppiesblow and @trashbag-baby666 (sorry if you've been tagged in one of these recently it's impossible to keep track :P )
a little drabble for Bucky in my reincarnation au~
Sometimes he thinks about leaving. Fleeing the country and going somewhere no one knows his name, where he can be reckless and not worry about leaving people behind—because he'll already be dead to the ones that care—and he can start over. He'll take sleeping pills or get hypnotized and the war will disappear, his dreams will die. No more Buck.
Then he'll remember the man he hasn't yet gotten to meet, the boy he could love. Gale. And he knows he'll stay.
I need to post a wip snip to stop me from prematurely posting the next chapter
He watches Gale brush eraser dust off the page, lithe hands with chewed down nails, callouses built over his knuckles. They’re sitting side by side so Bucky can follow what he’s doing. Buck was always persuasive, the voice of reason who cornered Bucky into doing work. He stares dumbly at Gale’s lips, bitten red and swollen. “Does that make sense? John?”
He startles and responds automatically: “Bucky. That’s what everyone calls me.”
“Alright,” Gale smiles and it’s almost shy, it’s almost coy. “Does that make sense, Bucky?”
Best part of reincarnation au is getting to fill Buck and Bucky's world with random OCs :^) introducing Bucky's childhood friend and roommate ... (Who he may or may not have some misplaced/confusing romantic attachments to)
Bucky's forehead throbs, temples pulsing. It feels like his jaw is going to break, teeth grinding and tendons flexing as he tries and fails to relax. He reaches shakily for his beer, focusing on the cold condensation, pressing it to his forehead.
Across from him, Tyler hunches over the coffee table, rolling paper crinkling under calloused fingertips as he licks the cigarette closed. He sits up with it already stuck between his lips, putting out his hand to haul Bucky to his feet.
"You good, man?"
Bucky tries to laugh it off, but he can feel Tyler's worry like needle pricks across his skin while they sit on the porch and pass the dart back and forth. Bucky drops his head back, watches the smoke curl up towards the pale night sky. There are barely any stars in the city now. He hates that. He should just open up to Tyler, tell him everything, but how do you explain yearning for a man you're not even sure exists; the memories rattling around your head that are yours, but also not yours. "Jesus," He says instead. "I need to get my shit together."
I can't decide if I want to write Marge into Buck's life or change it up (since my whole concept is that the Buckies connection is so strong they simply had to find each other again, not that everyone gets reincarnated or connects to the same figures of their past, but I do also want to respect what Marge meant to Buck)... Chat weigh in?
