(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

[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.