Feb 15, 2015
sovietmadesoldier
❝ You're enjoying this way too much, James. ❞
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sovietmadesoldier
❝ You're enjoying this way too much, James. ❞
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rogers hates soirees. he doesn't mind parties, especially those with his pals back in the secret little bars and clubs in brooklyn, but he hates politics, hates anything having to do with them. he'd been fascinated by the concepts back in his first year of college and at the underground meetings he frequented with the communists and the radical women's league under the bookstore on lafayette street. however, there's a difference between far away fascination and being immersed in politics, day in and day out. he's not a politician--will never be a politician--but he protects his country the best he can now that he's been shipped home from japan. that's by protecting the elected leaders that represent the union.
at first, steve had been honored: fresh out of the army and offered a job on senator barnes' security detail. it's good pay and a good opportunity. now he resents it-- resents being surrounded by the people who prolonged his suffering as an orphan back in brooklyn when his ma died and those who just didn't care. who just don't care. decadence nauseates him, and he's grateful he can stand by the punch bowl and simply watch instead of interacting. not many people approach him or the other guards stationed there at the charity banquet. saying this is for charity is, really, only a guise so the politicians can mingle and share the latest gossip. he isn't stupid, even if he does adore mrs. barnes and his employer's family. the whispers of atomic bomb and communists and mccarthy make him a little sick.
after a few hours, he takes a quick leak and cigarette break, itching to feel the nicotine in his system and fresh air on his face. standing on the balcony of the hotel suite, rogers lights up a cigarette with his father's lighter, tucking it back into his breast pocket as he inhales gratefully.
for a few moments, he's blissfully alone in his corner of the balcony before he feels the presence of another beside him. glancing over at his companion, steve finds himself facing james barnes, the son of his boss and possibly the only person here around his age. despite finding himself uncharacteristically nervous in james' presence, he finds himself grateful to see him, and offers a smile and a cigarette to show it.
"----just needed a quick smoke. you want one, sir?"
steve's laughter could be heard by just about everyone in their hall.
"---you suffocated--you suffocated in a fucking wall."
HE LEANS BACK against his seat, firearm pointed out the window with the safety lock on. the goggles covering most of his face provide an ample view of the dirt-covered streets alongside them. however, rogers seems less focused on the street beside them rather than the road before them, and he shoots barnes a dirty look behind his goggles beside him.
"we go this fucking route every day, bucky. tell me: how the fuck does your dumbass get lost? please, fucking enlighten me. you have those goggles on so you can see where you're going."
Tbh, I just really like cheese and I've followed you for a whille and wanted to anon troll in nice way, so. :B Just cheese respect, tho.
CHEESUS HAS SPOKEN! YOU HAVE MY RESPECT! I BOW TO YOUR CHEESY GOODNESS
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[ ooc; kay stucky au time. steve lives in an apartment and of course a new neighbor, bucky, moves in; a neighbor who apparently can't tell the difference between an ethernet port and a usb port. it drives steve mad just watching him try to set up his tv so he ushers him out and does everything himself; sets up the cable, gets the wifi up, which of course only turns him into the neighborly cable guy. it's only fate that every time bucky has a technical issue he texts steve with 'customer service please' and steve groans and walks over to fix whatever cable he managed to unplug this time
of course it doesn't get better, only worse; one day steve goes over and sees bucky's got a new printer and goes 'what happened to the other one?' and bucky shrugs and goes 'i couldn't get the other one to work so i bought a new one' and steve just rubs his temples going 'jeSUS BUCK' ]
“i start thinking about what happened and then i start thinking about why i'm still here. it's pointless. they say on tv that the soldiers want to be there? i can't speak for every soldier, but i think if people went around and made a list of names of who fucking thinks we should actually be here and who wants to be here, ain't nobody that wants to be here, because there's no point. what are we getting out of fucking being here? nothing.” --david finkel, the good soldiers
steve & bucky as iraq vets (for sovietmadesoldier)
( he swats his ass as he passes by. not too hard, but firm enough to make a loud sound. quickly, he ducks out of bucky's wingspan, making sure he can't retaliate. )
--mornin'.