Grocery shopping? Steve’s got a good head on his shoulders. He’s smart. He can figure out what that means, reading between lines that Bucky hasn’t really known he was drawing. It’s easier to focus on that than on the deadness he’s seeing in typically playful sapphire blue eyes. That bothers him. It makes his whole gut twist up, so he’d rather focus on less awful things.
Like being told that Bucky is going grocery shopping because he has a place he’s staying at and needs food for it. He’s been back for awhile, long enough to get himself settled. He’s been back and he hasn’t tried calling him. No text. No email. Not excited phone call from Becca trying to plan a welcome home party for Bucky’s first leave.
The blond puts his weight on his back foot. It’s his sign, the one Bucky has always looked for to see if his friend is going to lunge himself at a shop lifter or purse snatcher. He’s preparing for a fight.
“I can go with you.” It’s a testing phrase to see if Bucky will try to brush him off. “My shift doesn’t start for another two hours.” He won’t be caffeinated for it, but the art supply store has its own sort of charge to it and maybe he can talk his boss into letting him have a painting demo that evening so he can mess around in oils—
His mind snaps back to the present, not because he’s getting distracted (he isn’t), but because there’s a weird twitch on Buck’s face that requires all of his attention. Something is really wrong here. It has nothing to do with Bucky not wanting to see him since he’s been back, either. There’s something deeper there and before his best friend can even answer his not quite question about the company, Steve can feel his heart breaking. It comes with an unfortunate side effect, however, of making him more stubborn than somber.
The phrase is repeated, though the wording changed to be more definite. I can go with you becomes: “I’m going with you. Bodega or actual supermarket?”
no subject
Like being told that Bucky is going grocery shopping because he has a place he’s staying at and needs food for it. He’s been back for awhile, long enough to get himself settled. He’s been back and he hasn’t tried calling him. No text. No email. Not excited phone call from Becca trying to plan a welcome home party for Bucky’s first leave.
The blond puts his weight on his back foot. It’s his sign, the one Bucky has always looked for to see if his friend is going to lunge himself at a shop lifter or purse snatcher. He’s preparing for a fight.
“I can go with you.” It’s a testing phrase to see if Bucky will try to brush him off. “My shift doesn’t start for another two hours.” He won’t be caffeinated for it, but the art supply store has its own sort of charge to it and maybe he can talk his boss into letting him have a painting demo that evening so he can mess around in oils—
His mind snaps back to the present, not because he’s getting distracted (he isn’t), but because there’s a weird twitch on Buck’s face that requires all of his attention. Something is really wrong here. It has nothing to do with Bucky not wanting to see him since he’s been back, either. There’s something deeper there and before his best friend can even answer his not quite question about the company, Steve can feel his heart breaking. It comes with an unfortunate side effect, however, of making him more stubborn than somber.
The phrase is repeated, though the wording changed to be more definite. I can go with you becomes: “I’m going with you. Bodega or actual supermarket?”