@rayrayhaywire sent me a stucky tweet, i sent one back, and this snippet spawned in my brain so i wrote it in ten-ish minutes because the writing inspo suddenly struck. just treat it as crack please. 😭😭
though tbh this was a nice little break between trying to write something serious, i love my little crackfics. (i actually have a mostly-written spiderverse au that is the most ridiculous thing ever, i may post it here sometime. also treat that as a joke if i do. idk) 💀
Bucky Barnes has now been promoted to the status of god.
A much warmer five minutes ago, Bucky had been sitting in the living room, attempting to read a book— the attempts were being interrupted by his little sister making commentary, like she’s on a radio talk show, while staring out the frosted windowpane that overlooks the yard between their apartment building and another brownstone. The empty plot was supposed to be the site of yet another building, but apparently the builders never got around to it, because it’s been the go-to place of pickup baseball games for the past few years. In the summers, it’s full of weeds and dried-out dirt where the grass used to grow before it all died to the heatwaves. In the winters, it’s iced over in a failed attempt by the Brooklyn kids (“the menaces,” as the neighbors would say) to make an ice-skating rink, and then covered with snowdrifts and turned into a fortress for snowball fights. Today, it’s abandoned except for the one person stubborn enough to go outside in the season’s first below-freezing snow spell to make a snowman. As Bucky goes to join his spying sister at the window, he’s gotta say— it’s a pretty sorry sight. The head keeps falling off, and so do the stone buttons of the snowman’s nonexistent shirt, but the kid’s got spirit.
“I think that’s Steve Rogers,” Becca says, squinting out the window. “Ma was talking to his ma yesterday. They moved in last week.” And, with wide eyes and an expression so dramatically grim that Bucky almost laughs, “he almost died, like, twenty times.”
“Oh,” says Bucky. “Then what the heck is he doing out there?”
Becca shrugs. The snowman’s head falls off again. They stare, giving a moment of silence for the unfortunate snowman, and for Steve, who will hopefully be spared the snowman’s fate.
And then Bucky can’t take it anymore. He pushes Becca to the side and unlatches the window, a wave of frosty air hitting his face as he leans outside and shouts two stories down. “Hey, dipshit— you’re gonna get sick, come back inside.”
The kid looks around dramatically, flailing his arms to the sky as he turns towards the window. “GOD?” He yells at a much louder volume than needed. And, looking Bucky straight in the eye— “I know you work in mysterious ways, but you should really watch your language.”
Alright, then. That's how it’s going to be.
If Becca’s got the facts straight, the skinny punk is Steve Rogers. Steve Rogers is his next-door (or rather, next-floor) neighbor, and Steve Rogers is an idiot.
And somehow, right then and there, Bucky just knows that Steve Rogers is going to be the bane of his existence. But somebody has to do damage control, and unfortunately, as the appointed god of skinny punks, it seems that the duty has fallen to him.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” he says to Becca, reaching for his coat.
