capkinkmod: (Default)
capkinkmod ([personal profile] capkinkmod) wrote in [community profile] capkink2014-02-11 08:29 pm

Prompt Post 1

Remember to title your comments, use appropriate warnings (or "choose not to warn"), and be civil. Embeds are not allowed.

At least one of the characters in your prompt must have been in Captain America: The First Avenger or Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

As of May 3, 2014, the spoiler policy is no longer in effect.

Update, April 22, 2014:
For fills, please use the following format:
Fill: Title
Including the pairing, warnings/CNTW, and any other information after the fill and title in the subject line or in the first line of the comment.

Page A Mod
Delicious Archive
twinkats: (Default)

Fill: Baby, You Shouldn't Be Alive [3/7?]

[personal profile] twinkats 2014-05-19 10:37 am (UTC)(link)
There were several times between the next, several moments that made Bucky’s breath hitch in the fear and certainty that Steve would be gone the next second. Sometimes he was afraid that it happened, moments where Steve collapsed but every time Bucky checked Steve was breathing. Steve was okay and so he brushed it aside as a concern that had no merit, no rhyme or reason, a little figment of imagination.

This time was different. Bucky knew this time was different because this was his last night in Brooklyn as tomorrow he’d be on a plane for the trenches. Bucky had thought he’d spend the night with a dame, spend it laughing and smiling and maybe with a bit of pleasure. He’d thought that up until that last moment after the Expo when he caught Steve staring. When he got into an argument with this little pretty thing who was too fragile for war and didn’t see it.

Bucky left with the girls, left with a smile, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Steve, he couldn’t stop worrying about Steve and when it came time that he would offer to take them home, he didn’t.

“I’m sorry gals,” Bucky gave them a grin and a shrug. “Thank you for a wonderful last night.” He gave them both a kiss to the back of their hands and slipped off to the sounds giggles and laughter and cheerful goodbyes.

Bucky slipped down streets and checked back alley’s for Steve on his way home, just to be certain. When he got to the apartment they both shared, when he slipped the key into the lock and then through the door, Bucky breathed a sigh of relief. He could see Steve’s shoes and then his coat, which meant Steve was home and most likely disappointed at yet another rejection.

He kicked off his shoes and tugged off his jacket. Technically Bucky knew he was supposed to be at the base, to report in and be prepared to shove off tomorrow. He’d been given enough leave for just tonight, for the planned events of tonight, except Bucky didn’t care. He had to check on Steve at least one last time before he went back and prepared for war.

Bucky loosened his tie and made his way towards the bedroom where his cot and Steve’s bed--because Steve needed the bed--rested. He froze about three steps away when he heard a familiar sound. Within seconds Bucky was in the room and at Steve’s side.

“Stevie?” he said quickly, lifting Steve up, pulling his arms above Steve’s head. “Shit.” Steve was gasping, wheezing and coughing and he looked blue in the face. He couldn’t get enough air in his lungs and Bucky felt like he couldn’t breath even as he did everything he could to open up Steve’s airway. “Shit, Steve, Stevie, goddammit punk stay with me.”

Not now not now not now repeated like a mantra in his head as Bucky hefted Steve up and pulled him towards the bathroom. Steam had worked in the past when this happened, when Steve’s breathing kicked up worse. He knew the drill by heart now and he wondered why Steve hadn’t tried to get to the bathroom and get the shower running. The attack probably came on fast, faster than Steve expected, the idiot probably pushed himself--Bucky had to stop his thoughts as he dropped Steve down into the bottom of the shower and turned on the water.

“Come on, Steve, stay with me,” Bucky cursed, pushing the water towards hot and then kneeling down. He slapped Steve’s cheek. “Steve. Stevie. Come on.” The wheezing was slowing down, but Steve still looked too blue in the face.

Bucky knew he hadn’t got there in time.

“Fuck, Steve, this isn’t funny,” Bucky said. “Come on man breath.”

Steve went quiet, and then still. His eyes were open, his face was blue, and he wasn’t breathing.

“Steve. Steve no,” Bucky said quickly. He shook Steve by the shoulders. “Steve come on.” He didn’t cry. The water rained down around him and Steve and he didn’t cry. After a moment Bucky just leaned forward and cradled Steve into his arms. He pressed his face into Steve’s neck and grit his teeth. He wanted to scream, to apologize. He shouldn’t have let Steve step into that damn recruitment center, he shouldn’t have left with the girls.

The water went from hot to cold, but they were poor and hot water wasn’t easy to come by on the best of days so Bucky didn’t count that as a good counter for time. He just sat there, cradled Steve in his arms. He didn’t cry. The water went from cold to colder and colder and Bucky squeezed Steve tighter and hissed, “Goddammit punk,” under his breath.

Steve shifted. Bucky thought he imagined it but Steve shifted. Then came a small wheezing gasp and then Steve jolted in his arms and rasped out a weak, “Bucky?”

It took Bucky a moment to register that this was actually happening. That Steve was breathing.

“Buck, you’re makin’ it hard to breath.”

That Steve was alive when just a second ago Bucky knew he was dead. Bucky pulled back, stared at Steve’s face. He was breathing. His eyes moved and blinked and he wasn’t so blue in the face anymore.


Steve gave him a pained smile and Bucky felt his heart stop.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve said and Bucky crushed him right back into his arms. He didn’t sob.

“Fucking idiot why didn’t you get in the shower godammit Steve why didn’t you do anything,” Bucky repeated over and over, arms trembling with a sort of euphoria he couldn’t quite name. Steve laughed. He sounded better.

Bucky wasn’t sure he was imagining it.

“C’mon, Buck, let up,” Steve said, pressed his hand into Bucky’s shoulder. “I gotta breath, jerk.”

Bucky pressed his face into Steve’s neck and hissed, “Don’t ever leave me.”

Steve smiled. “‘Till the end of the line, right?”

“Don’t ever forget it,” Bucky growled, and only then he let Steve up, pulled Steve out of the bathroom and began to towel him off. He helped Steve change and Steve let him.

Bucky wasn’t sure if this was all in his head. It would have been a pretty dream, to imagine Steve alive when he’d just died. Pretty, and cruel.

(only when he finally shipped out did Bucky actually realize, actually wonder, if he hadn’t made it up, if he hadn’t pretended Steve could talk to him and actually left a corpse behind in the bedroom, and he thought it would be fitting for his mind to shatter like that because life without Steve was unfathomable, and had been unfathomable ever since he’d first grown attached, and boy if that wasn’t a revelation that Bucky didn’t want)