#hetookmedancing

@hetookmedancing

He can hear the shower being turned on and takes advantage of the background noise to open the door of the little hotel room and step inside. Only the bedside lamp is shining, otherwise it’s utterly dark. Good. The Soldier checks his handgun, a Smith & Wesson Model 3, and then looks to where the door to the bathroom is slightly ajar. His first target is waiting inside, a young woman who’d asked too many questions and looked in too many dangerous places for answers. At least that was what his handlers told him. He’s not supposed to care about it, his whole thinking is focused on the task at hand: kill the woman, then return to base. Otherwise ----

“Kinda hard ta get real sleep with all that happens out there, y’know?” Bucky reminds her, glancing out at all the soldiers as they walked past.

    meme;;       (status: accepting)    6. In the Hospital

     “Uh----well...”

Okay, that’s definitively not how he wants to be seen by any dame at all. Sure, if he’s the glorious victor, blood still dripping down his knuckles and a thankful old lady praising him to the skies for his braveness and his sense of justice -- that’s okay, that’s how Connie can see him. But not with his left eye swollen shut and with bruised fingers pressing a cloth against his still bleeding (and aching) nose. Fucking Steve hadn’t been able to keep his mouth shut as some random dude had spoken ill of a woman walking past him but unfortunately said dude hadn’t been alone and well... Bucky’s body will hurt till he dies, he’s sure of that.

Dancing has been awesome but Bucky didn’t expect any less since he knows what a fantastic dancer Connie is. His arm still rests where he sneaked it a few minutes before, namely around her waist so he can pull her a bit closer whenever he wants, but the smug smile on his lips slowly fades the closer they get to Connie’s building. It’s just a couple of hours and then he’s going to be shipped out to a war. He thinks he still can’t process it but it’s already leaving an ugly feeling in the pit of his stomach. He just doesn’t want to leave Brooklyn. He doesn’t want to get killed somewhere overseas.

     ask "I knew you would.

                                -Teasing you is so fun.”

He didn’t often have time to spare,   but when he did,  he liked to take a few minutes out of his day to find somewhere where he could sit by himself,   and draw,   or read a book.   It was a quiet he sometimes just needed in his otherwise hectic life.    Just as he was walking to his usual cafe,           he stopped in his tracks on the sidewalk, having caught a glimpse of a familar face.

                   “Connie?” 

     ask

"N-no. I just think that, um, you should maybe put some on.

                                                    Just in case, y’know, Steve or someone else walks in.”