Thread: pure i m a g i n a t i o n [fics & stuff]

size-2Brady eyed the clock. He had been doing that for the past hour or so and Bucky found it rather strange. He wasnt expecting anyone and he sure as hell didnt give a rats ass about birthdays. And yet Welp, its midnight, Brady announced in a voice that would have sounded dry to the untrained ear, but Bucky knew better. So? He tried to keep it nonchalant. His posture remained loose as he leaned over the plump cushions that would had to have been Bens doing. Brady didnt have an eye for these types of things. His friends eyes were too shrewd for Bucky to think he could play it cute. He broke out into a small smile that seemed forced to the strained muscles in his face. It had been difficult to smile these past few weeks. So much had happened in Bradys life that affected them all directly. Brady would never admit to it, but he was the glue that held them all together and they so often forgot that even glue needed a bit of reinforcement when it faltered. Happy birthday to me, he replied, sounding more tired than he had any right to. Brady didnt respond right away and Bucky knew why. He was reading him and Bucky wasnt sure if uncomfortable was the right way to describe how he felt. He had known for years that Brady could see things in people that others could not. He was what they called a truth wizard, a person who could identify deception with a startling amount of accuracy but there was more to it than that, he knew. Brady saw people until they were stripped bare and incapable of hiding a thing. Bucky had a lot to hide and to this day the guilt of his past followed him around like a shadow or a metal arm but he couldnt hide things from Brady. It had taken him years to discover that he didnt want to hide things from Brady. Yeah, I know, Bucky conceded under that knowing gaze. He could hear his phone going off with what was surely a string of birthday texts and he had to fight the urge to reach over and turn it off. It seemed cruel, somehow, and wrong. He hated being wrong in Bradys eyes. Their relationship was a strange one. He had a good six years on Brady yet he felt like the little brother sometimes. Brady had a centurys worth of wisdom packed neatly into a tiny body. Even as a 14 year old he had always struck Bucky as so smart . The guys on his platoon had given him a hard-time but not enough for him to question his writing back. You got yourself a little girlfriend, Barnes? Boyfriend. They talk in code so no one can impinge on their love story. It might have been years ago but Bucky clearly remembered holding up one of countless letters and thinking Brady Fitzgerald, some day youre going to change the world. And so he had. Buckys world. The fact that he was sitting here far, far away from his troubles and leading a comfortable life in his hometown was a testament to Bradys persistence. Dont you fuckin quit on me, Bucks, he had said, You still owe me a drink. Bucky could now say with some measure of relief that he had made good on his promise but Brady was no longer a 14 year old boy from a far away place. He was a man, he was here and he was suffering. And as far as Bucky could tell, no one alive seemed capable of helping him. Its not much of a happy birthday, he admitted, feeling vulnerable and compelled to explain himself at the same time. Why? Brady asked. Because your grandfather just passed. Because your dads back and I know none of us get whats going on there but weve got our ideas and youre having an awful time of things and- Bucky faltered in his words as he felt two skinny arms wrap around him. It took him by surprise Brady was not a hugger. Ah, birthday hugs? he grinned gently, carefully putting his own good arm around the much slighter man. Any second now Brady would let go and set him straight. His tongue was razor-sharp, but Bucky knew he didnt mince his words for a reason. No one could get a point across quite like Brady Fitzgerald. He opened his mouth to say something until he realized that Brady was still hugging him. That struck him as odd. Normally by now his friend would be halfway across the room. Affection chased Brady as hard as he ran from it. What had gotten into him? Hey Bucky said in what he hoped was a soothing voice. He felt Bradys arms tighten and was unsure of how to respond. Had something happened that he was unaware of? Was Brady trying to tell him something? Brady? He received no verbal response but he thought he felt his friends face press into his shoulder. It was five minutes past midnight and the apartment was utterly silent. It gave Bucky the opportunity to think. How long had it been since hed been embraced like this? He thought of his mother who had hugged him just hard enough to avoid the cold bite of his metal arm when hed shown up on her doorstep. He thought of Natasha, the only woman who had stayed in his bed long into the morning. She had felt small in his hold but strong. Brady felt like a puppy he had once rescued from a contaminated house, small and frail but too spirited to give in to his fate. If he turned his face to the side hed be able to smell the clean scent of his friends hair. It was like being confronted by his memories only they were good ones and Bucky felt the first prickling of tears in his eyes. Showing up at Bradys had been one of the most difficult things he would ever do in this or any other lifetime. He had been a mess then, all scruffy-faced and long-haired but it was the shame of knowing what he had narrowly escaped that made it worse. But Brady had seen him just as he had always seen him in those letters and Bucky had known he was home for good now. He didnt realize it when a sob escaped him, nor would he have particularly cared if he had. It was easy to cry then, easier than anything he had done in ages. How Brady had known he would need this still surprised him, even after years of witnessing his miracles, and once Bucky had started, it was difficult to stop. And Brady never let go. Happy birthday, Buck, he whispered, You metal-armed fuck. Bucky laughed. He had to laugh. size