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[The pub was one thing, loud and full of soldiers with money to spend having not yet seen overseas combat. It was a nice enough establishment, but the smell of cigarette smoke reminded him a little of acrid stench of burning work camps, and the alcohol, while good and strong, just didn't seem to provide the same enjoyment as it used to. It came with a sharp aftertaste which was bitter on his tongue.

Perhaps it was so pungent because he knew that he was going back into combat. There was no particular fear of death or dying, but the horrors and stresses of combat were still ever present. He'd be following Steve, little Brooklyn street fighter, Rogers right back into war where any number of them could die. It was his duty, one he accepted as easily as the bartender getting him another scotch. If it happened, it happened. He was a combat veteran by most standards, and he'd kill the enemy to protect his new unit. That was that.

And Steve... there was a handsomeness that had always been in the strength of his friend's views of the world, strength of personality and playful awkwardness in the face of dames, flirting, and dancing. Now everyone saw Steve as the hero the gent had always been, except that big body fitted a role that society accepted. Nothing had changed on the inside save perhaps become all the more determined and shining through. Steve was where his friend had strived to be, and Bucky could find no fault in that. Finally things were going Steve's way.

Then there was Agent Carter. After so long in the company of battered, fatigued and often crude men, she was a shining red pillar of female perfection. And she had eyes only for Steve. Her blatant rejection of him stung pride long cultivated in his success of wooing those of the opposite sex to at least a drink and a dance. She was no-nonsense about it; Steve was who she was after plain and simple.

Bucky was jealous, pricked and spurned but chagrined in those emotions because this was what Steve deserved. He was far more jealous that this beautiful hard-assed ramrod straight woman was exactly as his friend had always been meant to have. His pride only shied from her rejection, but the rest of him withered silently with the idea that he would be losing Steve to such a perfect, hard-headed specimen. Damn it burned him a bit to know he was losing his best friend - and sometimes shy aggressive kissing partner - to such a fabulous dame. As Steve deserved the world and more in his mind.

November was peaky in London, and from the pub, he and Steve meandered their way back to the barracks. There had been offer of an officer's private room for Steve being a Captain and all, but they ended up in the same barracks instead. He suspected that Steve had declined to private room, which mean they slid into barracks full of snoring, shifting, farting, mumbling rows of men. Bunks big enough for two men if they squished to save on space if necessary; such was the soldier's life. It had been worse on the trains or in the two-man tents.

He stopped in the doorway and gestured for Steve to follow him around to the back entrance, which was closer to where their own bunks were stationed. It was after dark, the cold picking at his cheeks and nose as he tucked his hands deeper into his coat pockets.]

That Agent Carter... she sure has her eye on you. You're not going to screw this up with two left feet, are you? I'll burst out of this invisibility if you do.

[ Steve had been ill for awhile -- and these days his ailments had been more difficult to shake, which is why he had to be away for a bit. His mother's friend had a small clinic by the sea that was said to be good for his terrible lungs, and with any luck it would clear up in a few days. Steve hadn't wanted to leave Bucky on his own, worried for his best friend (and quite recently, also a sort-of lover; he hasn't quite sorted out that one yet). But he had to go, to restore himself and to hopefully recover if he wanted to live a long enough life to keep Bucky sustained.

He doesn't want Bucky starving along with him, and he wants to be healthy enough for him to be able to have his fill.

And so, after four, five days, Steve makes his way home, quietly eager to see Bucky again, hoping he hadn't gone and gotten himself to any trouble while he'd been gone, even if Steve is the one more prone to getting into trouble. He unlocks the door to their shared apartment and pushes it open -- all is quiet, very quiet, and Steve closes it behind him, calling out. ]

Bucky? Bucky, I'm -- [ He stops dead in his tracks when he sees a motionless body on the bed that he shares with Bucky. Wait, what? ] Bucky?

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incubus v2.