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Aug. 3rd, 2021 04:44 pmIt’s been a long time since Bucky has been to any sort of family cookout. Nearly 80 years, in fact, since before Prospect Park went from a place where people gathered to a place that housed supplies for a war that took so much. It took Bucky, and it took Steve, and so many others who weren’t able to come back.
The cake that sits on the passenger seat, with Bucky reaching out one hand to hold it steady, would have been a delicacy back then. Now he isn’t sure that it will be enough, but going into grocery stores these days kind of makes him go into sensory overload, so he grabbed the first thing that looked acceptable and bolted. He can’t show up empty-handed. Sam would never let him hear the end of it.
He’s in high spirits as he navigates his rented truck through the outskirts of Atlanta, windows down as the hot, muggy air blows through his hair. He isn’t sure that he’s felt this good since those days back in Prospect Park, with Steve rolling his eyes at him as Bucky called out to the girls that passed by. Respectfully, of course.
Usually, Bucky doesn’t look forward to crowds of people, especially one where everyone will know who he is and might ask questions, but he’s excited for this. He’s tapping his fingers to the beat of the music, and tipping his head back to feel the sun on his skin.
That’s probably when he should have known that things were about to go haywire.
He parks his truck and looks out to see a party in full swing, slipping on his sunglasses and scooping up his cake. One deep breath, and then he opens the door and steps out, ready to be greeted by Sam or his nephews or their beautiful mother, or whoever might approach him.
Except no one does, because all he does is blink and suddenly, he isn’t in Atlanta anymore. Instead of a party on the water, he’s at the edge of a park, with the sun setting instead of being high in the sky.
“What the hell?” He blinks again, and then swallows hard as he feels a brief flare of panic. Bucky knows what it feels like to lose time, and to wake up somewhere else, but this isn’t that. No one can do that to him anymore, and no time has passed. He still has the cake in his hand, and his back and thighs are still warm from the leather seats in the truck that is no longer there.
Bucky sighs and then closes his eyes, reaching up with his metallic hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.
Fantastic.
The cake that sits on the passenger seat, with Bucky reaching out one hand to hold it steady, would have been a delicacy back then. Now he isn’t sure that it will be enough, but going into grocery stores these days kind of makes him go into sensory overload, so he grabbed the first thing that looked acceptable and bolted. He can’t show up empty-handed. Sam would never let him hear the end of it.
He’s in high spirits as he navigates his rented truck through the outskirts of Atlanta, windows down as the hot, muggy air blows through his hair. He isn’t sure that he’s felt this good since those days back in Prospect Park, with Steve rolling his eyes at him as Bucky called out to the girls that passed by. Respectfully, of course.
Usually, Bucky doesn’t look forward to crowds of people, especially one where everyone will know who he is and might ask questions, but he’s excited for this. He’s tapping his fingers to the beat of the music, and tipping his head back to feel the sun on his skin.
That’s probably when he should have known that things were about to go haywire.
He parks his truck and looks out to see a party in full swing, slipping on his sunglasses and scooping up his cake. One deep breath, and then he opens the door and steps out, ready to be greeted by Sam or his nephews or their beautiful mother, or whoever might approach him.
Except no one does, because all he does is blink and suddenly, he isn’t in Atlanta anymore. Instead of a party on the water, he’s at the edge of a park, with the sun setting instead of being high in the sky.
“What the hell?” He blinks again, and then swallows hard as he feels a brief flare of panic. Bucky knows what it feels like to lose time, and to wake up somewhere else, but this isn’t that. No one can do that to him anymore, and no time has passed. He still has the cake in his hand, and his back and thighs are still warm from the leather seats in the truck that is no longer there.
Bucky sighs and then closes his eyes, reaching up with his metallic hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.
Fantastic.
