After the Bar

[onlyforthedream]

It's not the first time I've carried Bucky, although it's the first time I've had to do so because he tried to drink a bar. I'm not entirely sure what point he was trying to make, but hopefully he feels that he made it- and nothing else, come morning. He's sort of walking- he refused outright any alternative- but I have to say, the bulk of his dead weight is lightened somewhat by the fact that his right cheek is wedged up against my shoulder and the resultant facial expression is more or less priceless. I only wish I could appreciate the moment for what it looks like- war buddies dragging each other back from a bar. With everything that led up to it, though... To be honest, I don't know what I feel. I'm grateful that Bucky stayed, that he refused to be brushed off or let me go off on my own. I can appreciate the whys of it, but all the same I'll be as grateful to drop him off at Natasha's. I need to get my head clear, I need to wrap my hand where I sliced it on the broken glass, I need to hit something. Not necessarily in that order. Lifting the hand not anchored around Bucky, I rap twice on the door and then try to drag him a little upright. "You're home, soldier. Tasha, you in?"

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[widowskiss.livejournal.com]

Natalia leaves her bedroom in her sleep clothes, hair wet around her shoulders and her feet swift across the bamboo floor. She'd noted their approach upon leaving the shower, but by the time she'd dressed she realized it was not one set of feet, but two, and half of them clearly dragging.

She's at the door just in time to hear the knock, and her face when she opens it sharpens from concern into something very much like dread. It's not injury, but drink - Natalia can smell it on him, and she looks up from James' squashed face into Steve's own. He left to observe Veteran's day, but James does not do this. He does not drink to excess, certainly not to the point of debilitation, and the circumstances to render him thus must be extraordinary.

"What has happened?"