SOUL ON FIRE.

BETWEEN  THEM  ,  THE  AMBER  DECANTER  HAD  GONE  DOWN  A  SIGNIFICANT  AMOUNT  .  yet  bucky  had  felt  no  buzz  to  his  system  just  yet  .  leaning  forward  ,  a  slight  smile  drawing  across  his  tired  features  as  he  glanced  over  towards  the  other  man  .  “  CONSIDERING  all  the  factors  ,  yeah  i’d  say  you’re  pretty  damn  optimistic  ,  ”  bucky  said  ,  pouring  out  some  more  liquid  into  his  glass  ,  giving  a  small  exhale  &&  pushing  some  hair  back  from  his  face  .  he  gave  a  small  sigh  as  bruce  once  again  said  no  .  “  i  heard  you  the  FIRST  TIME  man  ,  ”  he  said  .  “  don’t  worry  ,  not  gonna  step  on  toes  ,  i  know  when  i  get  my  orders  ,  ”

OH, HOW WAYNE HAD CONSUMED MORE THAN HIS OWN SHARE OF THE LIQUOR. Even his guest had settled into leather seats unaffected, peering up at the host before helping himself to more. Like BIG BLUE, he wondered why they even bothered ------ if nothing could be gained or felt, not without extreme indulging. His own head FELT LIGHT, but he held himself straight and upon his feet, just barely toe to toe with James. “ You know my boys would disagree with you there. Optimism isn’t something I’m all familiar with. I suppose in your case, I seem like the guy with his glass half full. ”  THERE WAS SOME TRUTH TO IT. Optimism had returned to him in some way; hope restoring what he’d thought long broken and buried, when the man of steel returned to the living. He’d fixed ONE MESS at the very least. Absolved just a sliver of guilt.  From his firmly folded gesture across his chest, did Bruce extend a hand if only to settle it upon Bucky’s shoulder ---- providing a firm squeeze. 

“ I trust you, James ---- more than I trust most people. So I know you mean what you say.” A heavy sigh parts terse lips. “The rules I have here are important --- necessary to be followed. But that doesn’t mean you’re under orders. Obligated. This is a partnership, that’s what I mean. But It’s...habit, for me. DON’T TAKE IT PERSONALLY. ” 

“  you  know  for  an  optimist  ——-  you’re  bein’  very  pessimistic  ,  ”

“ Hadn’t realized I’d been the OPTMIST all along, between the two of us. ” and he’d settled the amber filled glass in front of him. “ There’s a very good reason for my pessimism, James ----- surely you know that by now. What you’re saying? IT’S FOOLISH AT BEST. Fucking awful at the worst. So the answer is still no. ” 

@wscldier​    ; BUCKY BARNES.

THE STREAK OF LIGHTNING LIT UP THE DISMAL SKY. Thunder rolled, cracked and complimented the crunch of iron against concrete. Blaring horns and distant shouting ----- it was all just another ordinary night in Gotham City. Where danger tended to roam, that is where the Bat had taken himself to. Dirtier streets, scarier secrets buried beneath buildings mounted on lies and deceit. Too many voices with their mouths sewn shut. That’s why he’d done this, for them. For people who couldn’t. 

He had expected his USUAL. And while the city never did seem to disappoint, there was a glimmer of surprise when he’d caught sight of him. HIM. Back in his city. Even for as intimidating as he was, dressed head to toe in custom kevlar and an old, fading hope ---- it didn’t stop the smile. It crept into being regardless, tugging at terse lips. Only after he’d done a careful sweep of his surroundings, did the Batman follow. Stalking quietly, high above the rooftops. Following the man until he’d rounded a corner leading through a narrow alleyway. 

That was where HE DROPPED.

A terrifying descent for anyone that wasn’t Bucky Barnes. Cape swallowed his physique until his gentle crouch broke into a comfortable stand just before him. 

“ Didn’t expect to find you in my city tonight. ” In anyone else’s case, he might have seemed less approving. Nevertheless, his shrouded voice gave a neutral tone. Not quite off putting, but not overly friendly either. HE HAD AN IMAGE TO UPHOLD, after all. “ Work or pleasure? ” While he’d anticipated one over the other, perhaps a part of him longed for something more personal. Casual. It’s not like he’s here to see you, Bruce.

“ Either way, it’s a pleasant surprise ---- as always. ”

||| @shelassos​  ; DIANA PRINCE.

ANGER WEIGHED THE DARK CLOUDS OVER GOTHAM CITY. A bleakness quite common to the streets of mayhem, but even more so this time of year. Spring. The gentle budding of flowers in bloom. Of April showers and god only knew what else. In the city, Spring seemed hardly different from the rest of the year. All of it was loud, dreary and UGLY. But far out from the congestion of nauseating civilization, way out into the stretched fields of land ----- surrounded by preserved and protected trees and lakes, it was lovely. 

Wayne’s hands outstretched for acres. All of the blissful isolation within what little nature Gotham had left, most of it belonged to him. Here, it was a little oasis. Trees sprouting new greens while little budding flowers peeked over the tops of growing grass. Birds sang, dove into the gentle rippling lake. The scent was youth and divinity; rain just on the horizon, with the roll of thunder waking what still was left to sleep. 

Whatever plans had EXISTED, Bruce imagined they could procrastinate for just a day. They’d made more than enough progress on the redesign of the manor to afford a slack or two. And with Diana’s gentle eyes drawn to the sky, thoughts lost in it ---- who was he to deny her of it? Alfred cautiously cleared his throat, eyeing him above his slipping spectacles as if it were akin to nudging him on at the shoulder. It was hint enough. 

So he’d stacked up the blueprints and other various documents into the folder and closed it gently, standing from the barstool and stretching out his arms above and then below his back. Then, it was left to her ---- his hand; arm outstretched like some unspoken gesture. If they left now, Bruce suspected they just might get caught in the rain. Wouldn’t that just be TRAGIC.

“Let’s take a walk.”

|||| @likeprotege ;

        There are seldom moments Bruce takes advantage of in regards to settling himself down. Work aside, after successful completion of a case that had kept him busy for more than a couple weeks. The couch had called his name, so his body sunk into the expensive leather as relief overwhelmed. A content sigh, while legs lifted and crossed against the matching ottoman. Tea nearly finished in his ebony mug, which pressed firmly to his bottom lip before ingesting another swallow. Bruce was well aware of Eggsy’s presence, and seemed to lack the interest as to why he’d shown up in the first place. A tolerated, dare he say it, enjoyed presence in the quiet of his glass house. Wayne tech tablet had rested against the silk fabric at his thigh, but lifted abruptly when Eggsy fastened himself against the older man’s lap.

A blink, followed by a stern stare at the intrusion — but not a word spoken in protest. Heavy inhalation follow by the subtlest shake of his head before things return to normal. Well, normal is rather subjective, really. He settles his tablet against the boy’s back, and continues to scroll through company emails while the bottom rim of his cup is settled against one of the other’s ass cheeks. A steady press, allowing the warmth of the porcelain to offer heat. One email in particular catches his attention, so the press of a fingertip opens the document. Silence befalls them, until his hand lifts, settles, and massages through the boy’s hair.

A charcoal painted sky covered for miles. This native dreariness Gotham was quite accustomed to; smoldering any delicate light that urged to pierce through its veil. Half past seven, and you wouldn’t know it. Heavily the air was scented, a forewarning of the incoming downpour of icy spring showers. Unsuitable conditions to wander off, far from Wayne Manor. Tall blades of untamed grass brush against the Armani fabric at his ankles, dewing the hems. Leaves hurdle along each powerful gust of wind. His cheeks, they’re not raw --- but pink nonetheless, from the slight biting chill. Hazels glossy, stinging from the current.

Bruce ought to be inside, warm and snug beneath cashmere blankets. Stripping off the night’s repercussions, and resting. Bed rest, as Alfred had prescribed. Demanded. He never was one to consider reason, not if it interjected his stalwart will. So up he rose, despite his body’s protest. As far as Bruce had been aware, no one was the wiser. Not Alfred, nor Polly. Not even Diana.

Across the fields he pushed on; slow, mindful steps until the glade of wildflowers came into sight. Hillsides covered in them; near every color in bloom that painted the expanse beyond the mausoleum, and practically far enough to reach the main road. A slow, steady bend just to snap a bluebell from its stem. Daisy following. And enough so to form a bundle, rising only at the first feel of rain. Small droplets tapping at the ruddy skin of his neck, and another against the bridge of his nose. Thunder a faint rumble, but the sound of parting grass and the squelch of it beneath feet catching his attention. A pale face, and sunken eyes sharply behold her ---- her, Gotham’s very own Persephone. Harsh lines soften at her presence, relax over the gentle curves of her body. That look in her eyes. A concealed swallow, but a heavier sigh.