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capkink2014-02-11 08:29 pm
capkinkmod) wrote in capkink2014-02-11 08:29 pm
Prompt Post 1
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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As of May 3, 2014, the spoiler policy is no longer in effect.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.
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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As of May 3, 2014, the spoiler policy is no longer in effect.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.
Links:
Page A Mod
Fills
Discussion
Delicious Archive
Fill: Голубка [My Dove] {3D}
Natasha and Steve returned to the not-SHIELD base both tired. Steve, more than Natasha, was confused about events but that mostly could be tied to Natasha's fluidity in the face of an ever changing situation. Steve didn't know what to make of it, to make of the Winter Soldier. He tugged off his helmet as they parked the motorbikes and scrubbed his hand through his hair.
“Try not to think about it too much,” Natasha said, placing a hand on Steve's arm. He looked to her, pursed his lips.
“They could have been SHIELD,” he pointed out. Natasha shrugged.
“He's an assassin, a killer,” she explained. “If Fury didn't specify me to use these ICER's how many potential SHIELD agents wound be dead from my hands alone? He doesn't have tech like this because his job is to kill, not save.”
Steve looked down. “And yet he got us out of there. He had a plan in play.”
Natasha sighed, closed her eyes. “He likes you,” she said. “I don't know if that's good or bad, but he likes you Rogers. Why look that gift horse in the mouth?”
Steve looked down at her, and shook his head. “Natasha...”
“The Winter Soldier is a ghost story, a myth, a killer and a murderer,” Natasha told him carefully. “He's not human to those who know and believe in him, but to you. For you. He acts more human than, than I could even imagine.”
Steve bit his lip. “All those deaths could have been prevented though,” Steve pointed out. Natasha closed her eyes.
“If it bothers you that much,” Natasha said, “then you might be in the wrong business.”
Steve frowned, slipped off of the bike, and headed inside. Did it bother him? The idea that they were SHIELD, could have been SHIELD, bothered him yes. Steve didn't want to kill innocents, and any of those men could have been innocent. Did killing bother him? Always. Even in the War he'd felt squeamish and sick, but he did what he had to to save lives.
“I've had enough of death for a lifetime,” he said to Natasha, finally, as they stepped past the door. “I want to avoid it, as much as I can.”
“You can't avoid it forever,” Natasha said. “People die, especially in this line of work.” She slipped past him, turned around, and gave him a smile. “Besides, it's kind of cute.”
“What?” Steve blinked.
Natasha smiled, secretively, and turned around.
“Natasha what does that mean?” Steve demanded, but she raced ahead with a faint laugh. “Natasha!” Steve darted after her.
The Soldier crouched low on the fire escape just outside Steve's apartment. He'd stood there, face pressed to the glass the first time he'd visited. He peered inside, curious to spite himself, at how the man in blue lived. It looked spartan, felt spartan even. Once, and only once, the Soldier had snuck inside and rifled through all the things that lay there.
That was until he found the canvas, the sketchbooks. He'd stared at the painting half-finished and swallowed hard, fingers carefully not quite touching the image. His eyes were wide and he'd felt the stirrings of something deep, down far that he'd buried, protected, cherished. A dream he'd chase in sleep, a thought he'd follow when awake.
The Soldier fled the apartment after that and didn't step foot inside ever again. Instead he'd watch Steve move about from the nearby rooftop every now and then through the scope of his rifle, never once stepping close. Until tonight. Tonight the Soldier crouched low, eyes scanning the road below for any sign of Steve's return. He'd already snuck inside early, hunted down ever single bug that SHIELD—that HYDRA—had in place and calmly turned them off.
It wouldn't raise red flags, because when Steve wasn't there they didn't pick up anything anyway. They generally started recording when Steve entered the door, connected to a little motion sensor that was the first thing the Soldier disabled before he went about the apartment, steadfastly avoiding the bedroom until the very end. Then he'd returned to the fire escape, crouched low, watched, and waited.
Finally he caught sight of the familiar head of blond hair. For a moment the Soldier's breath hitched, his fingers dug into the metal grate as he watched Steve, shoulders slumped and legs dragging on the ground walk into the apartment building. The Soldier frowned, a part of him curled, recoiled at the sight while another, another enjoyed it. He both wanted to chase away what caused the slumped shoulders, and cause that look to appear on Steve's face. His fingers bent the metal of the grate before he released it with a hissed breath.
The Soldier returned his attention to inside the apartment, this time standing up and pressing his back to the wall next to the window. He listened, waited until he could hear the door open and Steve step inside. He heard the keys drop into a bowl by the front door, the lights flickered on. Steve sighed heavily, headed in the direction of the kitchen. The Soldier licked his lips and knocked, once, twice on the glass of the window.
Instantly Steve whipped around, body tense. The Soldier appreciated the tauntness of the others muscles for a second until with a curse Steve made his way over to the window, body lined in fury. That, the Soldier found, looked even better on him than the slumped despondence.
Steve pulled the window up, opened his mouth and said, “What are you--” but the Soldier silenced him with a quick finger up in front of his mask, the universal sign of quiet. He grasped the window sill, tilted his head toward the apartment. Steve backed up and the Soldier slipped inside, made a beeline for the door and crouched down. Assured that his disabling job remained in place, he stood back up.
“Quiet,” he told Steve, barely restraining himself from grabbing the others arm like he had earlier. “Your neighbor is SHIELD.”
Steve went stark pale for a second and grabbed the Soldier by the arms, pulled him back towards the bedroom, and practically shoved him into the wall.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded.
The Soldier tilted his head. “A gift.”
“What gift?” Steve demanded, the Soldier pulled out a drive and held it palm up for Steve to take. Steve stared at it warily, then looked back up at the Soldier. “How do you know she's SHIELD?”
The Soldier blinked but obediently answered, “When I am awoken I am given a dossier on persons of interest, in case I come across them during a mission. Agent 13 of SHIELD was one such dossier, noted for living next to one of the men on the Avengers list for security.”
Steve stepped back and loosened his hold, a little surprised by the automatic response. “Were you given a dossier on me?”
The Soldier pursed his lips, but said, “No. All I was given a basic description, blond, wears blue spandex, carries a shield, and part of the Avengers Initiative. Any information about you I have uncovered by myself.”
“They're not really spandex,” Steve said embarrassed and completely released the Soldier. The Soldier raised his hand, offering the drive again. Steve sighed and took it. “So what is this?”
“A gift,” the Soldier repeated.
“Aside from a gift,” Steve said, sitting down onto the edge of his mattress. The Soldier glanced around the room. His eyes bounced around, almost with nervous energy.
“It is what you've been looking for,” the Soldier eventually said, drifting over to the corner of the room that had the canvas. He stared at the face, more filled in, almost finished since the last time he'd seen it. Steve's head shot up almost immediately at his words.
“How did you get this?” Steve demanded.
“I have access,” the Soldier replied, his fingers not quite ghosting the image. “I know who has access,” he amended, then asked, almost in a whisper, “Who is this?”
Steve got to his feet and tugged the painting away, gently but insistently putting it into the closet. “No one,” he said sharply. The Soldier looked up at him, gaze searching, before he looked away and started for the door. Steve sighed. “His name was Bucky,” he said. “He died seventy years ago. He was my best friend.”
The Soldier paused, looked back at Steve. One hand at his side clenched into a fist, but he said nothing. Steve didn't look over at him, just placed a hand on the closed closet door.
“Thanks,” he said. “For the...gift.”
The Soldier nodded, and then left without a word. Steve rolled the thumb drive over in his hands, traced his fingers along the carved Cyrillic lettering with a furrowed brow. He didn't know what it said, couldn't read it let alone understand it, but he had a feeling it was that some word the Soldier called him by.
Голубка
OP again.
(Anonymous) 2014-04-20 10:38 pm (UTC)(link)Re: OP again.
Because that movie was gorgeous, and heartbreaking, and I need to have the characterizations right or I'll punch myself. Like my roommate and I got to discussing Steve's whole attitude and what we saw and what it means it HURTS because the baby is pretty much struggling throughout the entire Cap2 but, it made me realize that it fits with this story because otherwise I couldn't imagine Steve allowing the Winter Soldier to get close, knowing what he does, if he wasn't in the mental state he's been in.
So yeah. I'm trying to keep shit accurate, yet also inserting the levity the movie had, and the obvious levity your prompt implied. It's worked out so far XD (I tend to write either straight up crack, or more serious stories so getting humor into something that has more serious undertones is...a challenge, but I like it)
Re: OP again
(Anonymous) 2014-04-21 12:33 am (UTC)(link)