(no subject)

[semi_stable]

When Bucky wakes up in an unfamiliar bed with a headache, he isn't exactly surprised. He's been drinking more than usual lately, being a little too careless, because it's bad enough coming to terms with the fact that he's attracted to men. Realizing he wants his best friend in some carnal, impossible way is a little harder to handle.

He still likes women. He still loves women, and lately he's been feeling the need to prove that to himself, going out multiple times a week to drink and pick up girls. He always has a good time, always loves it, so he doesn't understand why he still looks at Steve sometimes and wants. It's a problem that he doesn't know how to solve, and can't seem to ignore.

The last thing he remembers is shooting back cheap whiskey at a jazz hall and flirting with a girl with gorgeous cocoa skin. She drank gin like water and Bucky had tried to keep up with her, which probably led to him being in a stranger's bed with a hangover and a big blank spot where his memories of the night before should be.

A sea bird squawks in the distance and Bucky turns his head, surprised to see the ocean just yards from a door leading out onto the sand. Had they left Brooklyn?

The bed next to him is empty but there's evidence that someone slept next to him. The blankets are thrown back and the other pillow is twisted. Bucky yawns and reaches up to stretch, rubbing at his eyes and then looking down. He's in a white tank and matching boxers, which sort of surprises him. If he can't even remember the night before, how was he with it enough to put on his undergarments?

He can hear movement outside of the bedroom and he wonders if he should get up and go out there, or just wait here, when there's a sudden meow from his left. He turns his head to see a very fluffy white cat staring at him almost suspiciously, sitting primly with its tail covering its feet.

"Hello," he says to the cat. "Don't suppose you could tell me who lives here, huh? Always embarrassing when I can't remember names."

Comments

[the_variant]

Bopp follows Sylvie from room to room.

Not so long ago, she would have been unsettled by it, having a creature oddly dependent on one of her boyfriends so attached to her, as it would have meant she was settled. Vulnerable. A little part of her still resists from time and time, bristling at the idea of being in one place for so long, but lately she's been thinking more and more about what she wants to do with the time she's been given.

She doesn't have an answer, but at least she's content to let a dog follow her as she showers, then dresses, then brews tea for herself, coffee for Bucky.

With the coffee done, Sylvie returns to the bedroom and leans against the doorframe, holding both mugs. Bopp follows, then sits, her tail wagging.

"Are you talking to the cat?" she asks, then sips her tea, still holding the coffee out of his reach.

[semi_stable]

Bucky hadn't heard anyone approaching, so he's a little startled by the voice in the doorway. He looks over at the woman and his plush mouth falls open in shock, because she isn't what he expected at all and he has to resist the urge to give himself a pat on the back. Instead he rubs his hands over his face and then lifts both arms in a stretch, giving the striking older woman a flirty smirk.

"I was just waiting for better company, I s'pose," he says happily, letting his gaze travel curiously along the woman's body, from her feet to her face. She's wearing trousers, which surprises him a little. It's not often seen, but Bucky likes it. He likes everything he's seeing, and wishes that he could remember the night before, where he assumes that he saw a whole lot more.

"Is that coffee for me?" He asks with a boyish grin, sitting up a little straighter and holding out a hand. "I gotta say, doll. This is the best wake up call I've had in ages."

[the_variant]

There's something in the way he looks at her that makes Sylvie's head tilt slightly, an eyebrow arching. He looks almost surprised to see her, as if he was expecting someone else, which doesn't make a damn bit of sense, given that she's been here since the day before yesterday, having gone back to the townhouse briefly to water the single plant she's trying to keep alive.

"You woke up with me yesterday morning," she points out, still staring at him as he stretches.

It's then she realizes, she sees what's wrong. She drops the coffee, the mug shattering, drink spilling, and at the same time a dagger manifests in her hand, shimmering into life with green energy and she points it at him. "Who are you?" she asks. Because Bucky Barnes lost one of his arms a long time ago.

[semi_stable]

"What?" Bucky replies, tilting his head in a puppyish sort of way. "I definitely woke up at home yesterday. I remember 'cause my kid sister kneed me in the ribs to get me out of bed and it still smarts."

He blinks in confusion and then starts when she drops the mug, then fully yelps when there's a flash of green light and suddenly there's a knife in her hand, pointed right at him. Bucky scrambles up onto his feet on the bed, pressing himself back against the wall as he holds up both hands in surrender.

"Whoa, whoa, okay, hold on," he says urgently, Brooklyn accent thick as ever as he stares at her with wide blue eyes. What the hell has he gotten himself into now? He's gotta slow down on the cheap whiskey. "My name's James, okay? James Barnes, but some people call me Bucky. I just-- lady, I just woke up, okay? Gimme a second here! I'm not gonna hurt you so please don't stab me."

[the_variant]

"Oh, no, you're not going to hurt me," Sylvie agrees, bristling at being called lady by whoever this imposter is.

"But I know Bucky Barnes," she continues, advancing on the bed. Bopp whines nervously from behind her and Sylvie risks a glance down at the dog before she looks back at the man -- and he's younger, too -- in the bed. "I know him intimately and whatever kind of shapeshifter you are, whatever glamour you're wearing, you're missing a few key elements."

She steps carefully onto the bed as well, dagger held out. "So tell me what the hell you've done with my boyfriend and I won't have to hurt you."

[semi_stable]

"I am Bucky Barnes," he says again, tone almost desperate. He's no stranger to awkward or even downright dramatic morning afters, but this is something else entirely. She's ranting about shapeshifters and them being intimate and-- wait, boyfriend? He's never seen this woman before in his life. Maybe she's the crazy one.

She steps onto the bed and Bucky yelps quietly, pressing himself back against the wall. His heart is pounding and he looks over at the door leading onto the patio again, wondering if he could make it there before this woman stabs him. Just when he's about to make a break for it, the dog that had come in with the woman suddenly jumps up onto the bed, working its way between them. The dog doesn't seem at all afraid of the knife wielding woman and instead presses itself against Bucky's legs with a whine, wriggling against him and letting out a sharp bark at the woman. It sounds almost admonishing, and then the dog barks again before turning its head to nose at Bucky's left hand, licking at his fingers and sniffing intently.

Bucky risks looking down to give the dog a bewildered look, then pats at the dog's head before looking up at the woman again, blue eyes wide. "See? Your dog's a good judge of character. I swear on my life that I have no idea what's goin' on, okay? I have no idea where I am but I know who I am, and that's James Buchanan Barnes."

[the_variant]

"She's not my dog," Sylvie answers, risking another glance at Bopp. "She's Bucky's dog."

And Bopp knows Bucky. Sylvie has never had a dog, she doesn't necessarily understand them beyond the limited interactions she'd had in a few of the timelines she'd visited, and while she's always liked them, Bopp is something else.

In a flash, the dagger disappears, though Sylvie is still looking at the man suspiciously. "Hold still," she tells him, then closes the space between them and lays one hand on his shoulder, where there ought to be a seam between skin and metal. There's no glamour, no magic, no matter what she does, she can't force the illusion back with her own magic because it doesn't exist.

"What the hell is happening?" She doesn't expect him to have an answer and she's actually looking down at Bopp when she asks.

[semi_stable]

"I've never had a dog," Bucky replies in a pleading tone. "Always wanted one, but it's no fair havin' a dog cooped up in an apartment, y'know? It's another mouth to feed."

It's his father's words, ones drilled into his head every time Bucky asked for a dog until he just gave up on the idea all together. He's just rambling nervously, like maybe if he blabs enough this woman won't see him as a threat. The knife in her hand winks out of existence and it being gone should be comforting, but really that just serves to scare Bucky even more.

She moves across the bed and Bucky tenses as she steps in front of him, wincing and holding up his hands in surrender as she reaches out. Her hand only connects with his shoulder and he freezes, but she doesn't hurt him. She just looks confused, and maybe even a little scared, too. Bucky slowly relaxes and lowers his hands, sighing as she pats along his shoulder.

"I told you I wasn't lyin'," he breathes out, shaking his head a little and swallowing hard. "I have no idea. Last thing I remember is being in Brooklyn."

[the_variant]

“No,” she says and shakes her head as she takes two steps back, then down off the bed. Has she lost him? “No, you live here. In Darrow. With-“

Not with her. He has his own home, one apart from the home she shares with Loki, but this is simply his space, where her room at the townhouse is hers. She feels, in her heart, as if all three share all those spaces with moments of privacy between.

“You’re mine,” she says, voice fierce and angry and frightened. “Bring him back. Bring back the Bucky I know.”

[semi_stable]

What the woman is saying makes no sense, but Bucky can't help but to empathize with her. She doesn't seem like she's lost her mind, or like she's lying. She doesn't seem crazy, and Bucky starts to realize the gravity of his situation. He doesn't know what's going on, but this isn't a case of him waking up somewhere unfamiliar and having an understanding. Something is very wrong.

"Whoa, hey," he says once she raises her voice at him, reaching out to let his hands hover over her upper arms without quite making contact. He gets the feeling she might not like being touched. Still, he tries to school his expression to show her that he means no harm, and he's just as confused as she is. "I-- I don't know what's going on. I don't know how to do that. I-- this is the only Bucky that I can ever remember being, and I don't know where I am, and I-- I'm really fucking scared, okay?"

He swallows hard, and then winces a bit. "Sorry for cursin' at you."

[the_variant]

When Bucky lifts his hand, Sylvie steps back again, putting more distance between them. She doesn't know who this is. Bucky, maybe, but not the Bucky she knows and she shakes her head, then coughs out a disbelieving laugh when he apologizes for cursing.

She turns and grabs her phone from the bedside table, then opens it to a series of pictures. The most recent is the two of them at their anniversary dinner.

Without a word, Sylvie shoves it toward Bucky. The man in the picture is the one she wants back, the man with lines around his eyes and weight on his soul and one who won't apologize for using the word fuck, but will instead delight in her using it when she describes what she'll do to him.

[semi_stable]

"What the hell is that thing?" Bucky asks when the woman picks up a slim device from the nightstand. The display shifts rapidly, like a tiny picture show in her hand, and Bucky is so distracted by the concept of it that he doesn't even realize what he's looking at when she shoves it into his face. He blinks a few times and registers her, looking far more happy than she does in the current moment, and then his eyes widen slightly once he realizes that the man next to her is him. He's older and bearded, with lines at the corners of his eyes and a smile that looks like it's a little rusty.

"Whoa." He reaches up to take the device and swallows hard, glancing from the screen to the woman and then back again. "That's me? I dunno why I'm asking. It's obviously me but, uh-- wow."

He sinks down to sit cross legged on the bed, still staring at the photo as the dog worms her way under his arm, whining a little as she presses her head to his chest. Eventually he looks up at the woman again. She looks the same now as she does in the photo, except for her expression. She looks prettier when she smiles, but he's almost certain that if he even hinted toward anything of the sort, she'd kick his head clean off his body, so he keeps it to himself.

"So, I'm in the future?" He finally asks, looking up at the woman again. "Are you my girlfriend?"

[the_variant]

Bopp's behaviour toward him is one of the few things keeping Sylvie from telling him to get out of his own home. She's still too wary to sit on the bed with him, too wary to give him more information, even though she thinks it would be likely to help him.

But her heart aches. Is it just Bucky? Is it Loki, too? Like everything else, have they both been taken from her?

"Yes," she says, her voice still tight. "But I hate that bloody word."

[semi_stable]

She looks so unhappy. Bucky supposes that he can't really take offense to that, given that he's apparently woken up at least half the age that she's to, with no memory of her, but it still stings a bit and he finds himself wanting to fix it, but he has no idea how. His heart is racing and he feels terrified, so it's easy to bury his face in the dog's fur for a moment when she whines and nuzzles against him. He takes a deep breath and lifts his head up again, unintentionally giving the woman puppy eyes that would rival the dog's.

"Could you tell me your name?" Bucky asks eventually, wrinkling his nose a little because all of this is so strange, and he has no idea how to make it better, but he wants to so badly. "And-- I'm sure it'll be okay. There's gotta be an explanation for this, right? I mean, it's not like I'm just never gonna see my family again, right? I've gotta get home."

Suddenly he feels very much like a lost little boy, and he stares at the woman with a slightly pleading expression, because he doesn't know what else to do.

[the_variant]

"Sylvie," she says, though for a moment she can't say anything else. He's looking at her, utterly innocent, like she's never seen him before and she has to tell him he won't see his family again. Not only will he not leave Darrow, they're likely all long dead, because the man she loves is well over a century old.

She's not a coward, not by far, but this is too much.

"I don't know," she tells him instead. "No one has been able to leave Darrow by choice so far."

[semi_stable]

"Oh. O...kay," Bucky breathes out slowly, blinking a few times and pushing his hair back from his face. "And we're sure that this isn't some very weird dream? I mean, last I remember I was knocking back what I'm pretty sure was bathtub gin, so maybe?"

He reaches over and pinches hard at the soft inside of his left forearm, wincing as he does, and then sighs harshly. His fingers left a red welt behind, little crescent moon indents from his nails, and he rubs at the spot as he looks up at Sylvie again. She's staring at him so intensely, like he's an imposter or a ghost, and Bucky clears his throat as he awkwardly shuffles off of the bed and goes to stand.

"I should probably--" He hooks his thumb over his shoulder and then puts his hands on his hips, letting out a bit of a crazed laugh. "Actually, I don't have the faintest fucking clue what I should do right now."

[the_variant]

"This is your home," she says. "You're not going to leave."

But she can't leave either. If she leaves him alone, he's going to get himself into some kind of trouble, she can already tell. With a sigh, Sylvie rolls her eyes and gestures toward the bathroom.

"Have a shower and get dressed," she tells him. "You'll come with me. I can't leave you alone, you'll probably piss off the vampire mayor or something equally stupid and get yourself killed."

And this man is not her Bucky, but she doesn't want him to die either.

[semi_stable]

Eventually, Bucky breaks.

He held out for a good long while, he thinks. He followed Sylvie around the city, astounded at every turn by some modern technological advancement. He learned about cell phones and the internet, and cars that look more like spaceships than any sort of transportation that he's used to.

He was overloaded with new information all while trying to process that he's stuck in some alternate universe, like something out of a fantasy book, but it was learning that he has a girlfriend and a boyfriend that broke him.

Sylvie took him to meet Loki, an absurdly charming and handsome man who looked at Bucky like he knew everything about him and still wanted to know more. They, all three of them, were together in a romantic sense and somehow Bucky knew that they weren't lying to him. It shocked him because he thought he had compartmentalized that part of himself enough that it wouldn't be an issue, and not something that would interfere with his living a normal, respectable life.

But apparently that all went out the window, and he somehow ended up shacking up with two of the most beautiful people that he's ever seen. He wondered what his parents would think, or what Steve would think, and was reminded that he was cut off from them entirely. The enormity of it all was too much to process and Bucky ended up awkwardly excusing himself and fleeing the townhouse with no real idea of where to go.

He ended up back at the little house by the sea around nightfall by way of a taxi, reading off the address on the ID in his wallet. The dog joins him as soon as he's on the property, whining and rubbing against his legs, and eventually he sits down on the sand and looks out at the water, one arm wrapped around the dog's frame as she pants in his ear.

Now that he's away from it, he's embarrassed by his cowardly reaction, but it was just too much to handle all at once. A part of him wants to go back and apologize, but another part wonders if maybe it would be better for him to just make himself scarce until this all goes back to normal, like Loki said it would. Maybe they'd like that better, too.

In the end, he does nothing except stare out at the horizon as the sun sinks below it, breathing in and out as he pets the dog and does his best not to feel like a scared kid.

[the_variant]

Sylvie feels for him, she does, because she loves him, even if he’s not really her Bucky. She gives him his space for a time, though only because Loki has suggested it, and eventually she gets tired of giving him space and goes to find him.

It’s not much of a hunt; he’s obviously gone back to the place where he woke up and Sylvie finds him and Bopp on the beach. She sits down beside Bopp, though gives a bit of distance.

“She’s trained for this sort of thing,” she says, conversation. “To help when someone’s anxious.”

[semi_stable]

Sylvie gets really close to him before Bucky notices that she's there. She speaks and it startles him a little, and he sniffs as he turns to look at her, grateful that she hadn't shown up just a little earlier. There had been no one to see him cry except for the dog, and he doesn't think she'd tattle, even before Sylvie tells him what she does. Bucky looks at her and then back at the dog, meeting her big eyes, and smiles a little as he scratches under her chin.

"That's pretty neat," he says after a moment, but his expression morphs into one of vague concern, smile slowly drooping into a frown as he looks from the dog to Sylvie again. "I'm not sure if I want to know why I would need a dog trained for such a thing. I've never considered myself to be an anxious person."

He looks at her and then lets out a self-deprecating sort of chuckle. "Today doesn't count. Special circumstances."

[the_variant]

Sylvie considers this, debates not telling him, then decides she would rather be honest. When all this is over and Bucky is properly back, he'll remember how she behaved and if she lied. That alone is worth possibly upsetting him in the moment.

"You lived through a war, Bucky," she tells him. "You were taken prisoner. An act like that changes people." She touches her head, then her chest. "Here. And here."

He doesn't need the details, but she won't lie to him and say there's no reason.

[semi_stable]

The news surprises him, though he supposes that it shouldn't. There had been news of growing conflict, and the states getting involved, but Bucky tried to put it out of his mind. He knew about the draft, knew that his dad was too old and his sisters all women, so he would be the only one in his family who could serve at all. He remembers how his grandpa had been after the Great War, how he'd sit there sometimes with a haunted look in his eyes. Bucky never wanted to be like him. He never wanted to fight and only did it if he had to. With a war, he supposes that he'd have to.

His eyes well up slightly and he clears his throat, blinking a few times and nodding as he looks down at the dog again. It's a lot to take in and process, a lot on top of everything else, but he appreciates that Sylvie is honest with him. A little sugarcoating might be nice, but the truth is better. Even if it hurts.

"At least I survived. There are plenty that don't," he says after a moment, sniffing and wrinkling his nose before looking up at Sylvie again. She's older than him, and so tough. He wonders if she's disappointed in this younger version of him, the one who hasn't been to war or ever even lived away from home. "I must be so different than what you're used to."

[the_variant]

“You are,” she agrees simply. In many ways, he’s still Bucky, but in others, he’s an entirely different man. One she doesn’t know. But then, she’s spent a thousand years jumping between timelines and she’s met dozens of versions of people.

“It isn’t a bad thing,” she adds. “To have not been touched by war, I mean. You’re different, but it isn’t a bad thing.”

Selfishly, she doesn’t want him to stay this way. She misses the man she knows. All the same, this is better for him, to have forgotten the trauma and the horrible things that have been done to him.

[semi_stable]

"The bad things just haven't happened yet," Bucky says quietly, brows furrowed as he reaches out to drag his left hand down the dog's back, soothing himself with the repetitive motion. "Loki said things will be back to normal soon. I wonder if I'll remember being here."

He swallows hard and turns to look at Sylvie. She's so beautiful and she's been through so much that he has no idea about. Her and Loki both seem to have been touched by some sort of darkness that Bucky could never possibly understand, at least not as he is now. It frightens him to think that he does at some point in the future, but it's balanced by a comfort in knowing that he wouldn't be alone. "I don't want to forget you. I think you might be the most interesting, beautiful person I've ever met."

[the_variant]

"And that you can say things like that and be utterly sincere and utterly charming is why I have to admit, I do miss you as I know you," she says, then lets out a soft laugh. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to dismiss the compliment, it's a lovely thing to say, it's just... there's so much you don't know."

About her, the things she's done, the people she's killed and the violence she's wrought. He has, too, but she won't go that far into it. Not with him like this.

"Loki does always seem certain things will work out," she says. "Though in this case I suppose he has Darrow history to lean on."

[semi_stable]

"Am I not unbearably charming in the future?" Bucky teases, smiling over at Sylvie even though the thought does frighten him a little. "I can't have changed that much."

He takes a deep breath and lets it out with a slow sigh, pressing his hands into the sand so he can lift himself up and move a little closer to her. He reaches out and puts his hand on her knee, prepared to move it if she gives him any sign that the touch is unwelcome.

"Maybe there's a lot that I don't know, but I know myself. I know my heart," Bucky tells her, one corner of his mouth quirking up as he studies her face. "And if I've put myself in this crazy situation with the two of you, then it wasn't for no reason. Maybe I don't know why, but I know that I must love you. Especially if I do change as much as you say I have, because I have a hard time doing that even now. So, you don't have to tell me anything. It wouldn't change anything anyway. I know what I know and that’s enough for right now.”

[the_variant]

It's the right thing for him to have said. Sylvie doesn't move his hand off her leg, though she keeps looking out at the water. Seeing him like this causes an ache in her chest, a part of her she doesn't think about very often, the part that never healed after her family was erased.

He hasn't been hurt yet, just like she hadn't been. Now she's this version of a Loki, someone who lost it all, and seeing Bucky before it's all come down around him is just painful.

"It's enough for right now," she agrees and lays her hand on top of his.