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

Who the hell is Brady? size-2Hey, Buck. They approached each other, moving at a pace better left to angry, wounded animals. Such descriptors could very well have been applied to the pair of them they had only been battling for a year. It was the older of the two who stopped first, the hesitation in his eyes unclear to any average man, but his opponent knew better. His opponent knew far too much. At that moment, James Buchanan Barnes was afraid, very, very afraid. Suns gettin real low, the blond crooned, a jarring contrast to the state of him. His hair was dishevelled, his face caked with soot and blood, yet still, he managed to do the one thing he hadnt done during the entirety of their relationship smile . To his credit, Bucky never broke face, at least, not where it counted. Neither of them missed the awkwardness of his gait, the fatigue in his movements, or the way his hand rested carefully on the rifle he was carrying. War had become a way of life for them and here, at the end of all things, it would reach its thrilling climax. We should have- Run away, Brady interrupted, uncharacteristically impatient in his desire to die. His eyes were as blue as Buckys, but colder somehow, like an eternal winters morning. If only they had frozen in time like theyd dreamt of many moons ago. I thought I was the one who couldnt let go of the past. This time Bucky did break face. He winced, the pain ebbing and flowing like a sudden current. His grip on the rifle didnt loosen, but he managed to free his other hand long enough to retrieve a pistol. It seemed almost comical when faced with the gallery of weaponry he had tucked away, but even the smallest of things could make all the difference. They both studied the pistol until their eyes met in a silent conversation. Whatever war they had been fighting, whatever they had lost along the way, it all ended here. I dont think I can do it, Bucky said. The admission was painful, and the assassin did nothing to conceal the sudden mist in his cloudy eyes. The salt of his sorrows streamed down his face, leaving muddy streaks where it touched the dirt. It would be like Brady to jest in that moment, but as everything else unravelled around them, so it seemed would he. The forest in which they stood was eerily quiet, calm, close to the cabin they had rebuilt together. The memory of it would have broken through the morbid serenity they had somehow managed to capture, so no one made any mention of it. Things needed to be buried and so did they. I know you dont, Brady conceded in a different voice. He cast his eyes to the side and fell silent for a time. Then we shouldnt, Bucky said, seizing the opportunity to press the matter. He took a step forward, looking desperate, looking so much younger than the 100 year old man he had become. Solnyshko- Dont. Dont tell me not to! Bucky screamed, loud enough to startle the other, something he felt guilty for, even now. He advanced as quickly as Brady backed away, until Brady could go no farther and collided with a tree. Buckys hands shot up and grasped the smaller man by his face, the face hed idolized for so long now, the face he now defied not to look at him, I love you. Brady stared right back, seemingly devoid of anything, too cold to be honest. I dont. There was a pregnant pause followed by Bucky reaching down and grabbing Bradys hands, noting the crossed fingers with a look of exasperation. Okay, I love you, Brady relented in a voice laced with the kind of blind devotion that could not be questioned. Something in his voice said that he had loved Bucky for a lifetime, and would continue loving him long after that. He shrank away from the conviction he saw in his husbands eyes, But I could never love myself. Not even now. Especially not now. I loved you enough for both of us, Bucky pressed. The gun was positioned uncomfortably against their middles and somewhere between their confessions, Brady had managed to retrieve his own. You were always faster than me, Bucky admitted, smiling beautifully in spite of the tears, The last time we were this close you had your legs wrapped around my head and were trying to choke me. If I recall, you were enjoying it a bit too much there, Barnes. Thats Fitzgerald to you, Bucky corrected harmlessly, but the weight of his words hung heavy between them, heavier than any bullet. He paused, taking in the sight of the face hed never truly get to admire ever again. We could have disappeared. Too late for that now. The regret was palpable, but neither of them could do a thing to alleviate the other. It had been the strongpoint of their relationship, the shared trauma, the unfailing ability to save the other, but it wasnt enough. It was Bucky who was first to pull Brady into his arms and even as Brady spoke, he paid it no mind and held fast to the smaller man. It may very well have been the last time they held each other. Theyll wipe you. After this, you wont even remember that I existed, Brady explained in that insufferably matter-of-fact voice that Bucky had come to love, Its for the best. Why think when you have the option not to. Why remember? Moy dorogoy, Bucky whispered, pressing his lips to Bradys brow, Shut up . Where you go, I go. Evidently, Brady said. He aligned himself so that he was close enough to feel the last bit of warmth hed ever receive. Make it count. Even through the layers of leather, the pair of them could feel the cold bite of each pistol. The countdown was silent and Buckys finger slipped over the trigger like he had promised. It was only after he had fired the first that he realized he was still standing. Why was he still standing? Only one had been loaded. No, he whispered, watching his husbands body crumple and hit the ground with a resounding thud. It was the dead of winter. He had always confessed to hating the winter. No , he repeated, as if saying it would make it untrue. The screaming would last a long time. Eventually, someone would hear him. You you lied. Baby, mIlaya moyna You were always the best liar. Why did you lie to me? Even as they swarmed around him, even as he held Brady in his arms, rocking him gently as if coercing him out of a long nap, even as he tasted the metallic tang of blood against his lips, Bucky spoke as though hed get an answer. You can count on me like one, two, three, he sang brokenly, Was that how it went? All these years and I never once bothered to put it on my iPod. I always had you to sing it to me. He laughed, laughed hard as the government agents in their black clothing and with their black guns struggled to free him of the white corpse in his arms. Will you sing it for me again? One last time, Bradoshka. Either that or our daughter will have to sing it. Do you know shes waiting? We cant keep her waiting, baby. Wake up. Please. Please , darling, wake up. Hey, Buck. Suns gettin real low. What? Bucky looked up at the new arrival, eyes blazing something terrible. He was met with a look of confusion, undercut by deep concern that was somehow unfaltering. There was always concern to be seen in those blue eyes. That was just Steve. Everything okay? his best friend asked quietly. Bucky wasnt too sure. It was something He had heard that somewhere before, and it occurred to him after a few moments of silence that Steve hadnt uttered a word of it. Thinking about it was enough to force a sharp pain to his temples and it was almost enough for him to want to dismiss the thought entirely. It took a while, but eventually the words became meaningless, a distant worry he was frightened to revisit. Something about the almost memory of it seemed agonizing and Bucky had had quite enough of that to last him four lifetimes. The words were a thing of the past. Much like the man who had once spoken them. Yeah he stated after a while, Yeah, Im fine.size