(aka that mcu pokemon!au featuring white wolf!bucky.)
(also readable on ao3)
words: 565.
Bucky doesn’t know what to do with the–Pokémon? Is it a Pokémon? –in front of him. He’s never seen anything like it; whatever it is, it’s fucking huge, a little taller than both him and Steve. And that helmet it has, it’s nothing like a Cubone wearing its mother’s skull–no, this was forced onto the poor thing.
“Shuri,” he breathes, “what the hell is that?”
“I’m glad you asked.” Shuri grins and gestures toward the Pokémon, “This, is a Type: Null,” she explains, “They were found frozen in the wreckage in Siberia.”
Bucky tenses, “They were,” he whispers, “they were experimenting with Pokémon, too?”
Shuri nods, “I’m afraid so,” she lifts her hand and moves to touch Type: Null and it backs away, growling, “I’ve been working on solving the mystery around the helmet on its head, but it won’t trust me. And that’s where you come in, White Wolf.”
Bucky lifts an eyebrow, “And what am I supposed to do with it?”
“You two have something in common,” Shuri grins and places a hand on his arm, “intuition tells me that it’ll get along much better with you than with me.” She places a Poké Ball in his hand and walks away.
“Good luck!” She yells back at him.
Bucky’s eyes trail from the back of Shuri’s head, catching a flash of pink next to her, and over to the Pokémon staring dead at him, and down to the ball in his hand before sighing.
“I haven’t had a Pokémon in more than seventy years,” he muses and lifts his head to look at Type: Null, “but I guess I should give you a nickname, huh?” Type Null growls, but it’s not as deep and threatening as the one it gave Shuri.
Maybe she’s onto somethin’, he thinks. “I gotta think of somethin’ good. How about…Duke?” Type: Null just gives him a blank, beady stare, but doesn’t growl at him. Bucky nods, “Duke it is, then.”
***
Type: Null—Duke, its name is Duke now—doesn’t make much of a fuss, content to watch Bucky feed the goats and entertain the village children from its new favorite spot, under Bucky’s tree.
Still hasn’t warmed up to him, though. Not that Bucky blames them. He wouldn’t warm up to a strange, one armed man quickly either.
“Ingcuka,” one of the children calls, scrambling toward him once she sees Duke under the tree, “What kind of Pokémon is that?” she asks, voice soft and full of wonder.
Bucky shrugs, a small smile on his face, “Not sure, myself.” He answers, his Xhosa is barely passable, but clear enough for her to understand.
“Can I pet it?”
He glances at Duke, now watching him and the little girl with a curiosity in their eyes, “if they let you, but be careful.” No sooner than the words are out of his mouth, the little girl takes off in a jog toward the tree. Duke doesn’t move, just watches the girl closely. When she gets close enough, she stretches out her hand and Duke moves to sniff the outstretched fingers before rubbing their helmet against her palm.
“I’ll be damned.” Bucky mutters. He hears a giggle right next to his ear and whirls around to catch a flash of pink out of the corner of his eye. “This was your idea all along, wasn’t it?” he chuckles.