[ Smirk. And just like that, Bucky's already off and running without giving her any forewarning or a headsup— but he does keep his pace carefully-measured, scaled down to a regular-but-fit human level, so it won't turn any heads and Daisy stands a chance of actually catching up to him, with a little bit of legwork. ]
[Daisy mutters as he runs off, sighing she looks for a place to put the coffee before just placing it back down on the sand. She's got a stomach full of coffee and alcohol, what could go wrong?
Taking off after him in the sand wasn't exactly easy, but she manages to get at least within earshot of him.]
Do you want me to hurl?
[Daisy asks breathlessly, hoping he'll at least slow down.]
This is why we don't drink coffee the size of our face! [ Bucky yells cheerfully back over his shoulder, but he slows down even further; reminds himself to rein it in, to not push his augmented body to its limits as he usually does. That steady, careful balance to try to make the easy motion of his run seem natural, even if he's hobbling himself.
There is something slightly off about his balance, though — more noticeable when he's in motion, the way he favours one shoulder a bit more, with the weight of it. But Bucky eventually slows down enough that Daisy reaches his side, and he settles into a jog beside her.
He is irritatingly upbeat and unaffected when he exercises. ]
If you do feel like you're gonna hurl, shout and I'll find a trashcan.
[She could easily drink three of those, but not when she's running through sand. The sand makes this way harder and he's running through it like it's nothing.
Him being upbeat is a good contrast to how much of a mess she is right now. She can feel a knot forming in her side as she slows to a jog.]
Boardwalk, [ he says briskly; reaches out and taps Daisy's shoulder, and then steers them away from the sand, over to where their shoes hit the wooden planks instead. It's easier-going here, but he still slows even further until he's practically at an amble beside her. He doesn't actually want to make her vomit on their second sort-of-not-date. ]
[Most of the people out here are either out for morning jogs, or getting work set up. So it's oddly quiet and enough that Daisy notices in between them not talking. By the time they make it up to the boardwalk, Daisy is considerably slower than before.
Stopping to lean against the railing, Daisy doubles over.]
I just need a minute.
[Coming down from being drunk, and from adrenaline, the aches and pains from the fight are really starting to settle in. Not to mention her mess of a stomach.]
[ Honestly, he's impressed Daisy managed that brief run as well as she did on zero sleep and all that hot coffee sloshing around inside her. Bucky comes to a stop beside her, and unthinkingly reaches out and rests his right hand between her shoulderblades while she drapes herself around the railing.
He's mostly forgotten what it's like to get drunk; he's gotten out of the habit, can't really remember what it's like fighting that whirling dizziness. ]
Yep. Metabolism's about four times faster than usual.
[ It helps keep him lean, but has its annoying side-effects: the food bills, the inability to enjoy that mellow tipsiness. Bucky probably could get drunk if he really put in the effort and outpaced it, but it'd be conspicuous. Then, a thought occurs to him and he smiles a little, although it's still directed to her back and so she can't see it unless she looks back over her shoulder: ]
So I'm the opposite of a cheap drunk. Kind of an expensive date, sorry.
[She’s about to push off the railing when she feels her phone buzz. Opening her eyes, she reaches for it from her back pocket and pulls it out to see Jemma texting her.]
I’m in trouble.
[Daisy doesn’t actually sound concerned as she looks up at Bucky with a small smile.
[ Bucky snorts, amused, but he looks a little relieved at her saying they should do it again. ]
Alright. Maybe I'll take it easier on you next time.
[ But that means there is going to be a next time, so there's that. Just sitting on the sands together, without anyone else around, had been... nice. Daisy's easy to talk to; far more than he ever expected, considering how difficult he finds it to get close to people. He can already tell his therapist is probably going to have a goddamn field day with a new name cropping up in his phonebook.
Hands shoved into his threadbare hoodie pockets, he's suddenly unsure how they're supposed to part ways — he's fallen out of the habit of hugs, and doesn't really know where they stand, and what the hell is a normal way to say hello or goodbye to anyone, anyway? With someone like Sam, Bucky tends to just march up to him, launch straight into the conversation, and then awkwardly duck his head and march right out again afterwards.
But once upon a time, eighty years ago, he'd known how to do this. How to turn on the charm, like an old and guttering lightbulb flickering on after years in storage. So he steps a little closer as Daisy straightens up, and he presses a polite, whiskery kiss to her cheek, his jaw rough with stubble. ]
See you then, Daisy.
[ And then he steps away again with a nod, and veers away and settles back into his jog down the boardwalk. Might as well use the rest of the morning, now that he's down here. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ Smirk. And just like that, Bucky's already off and running without giving her any forewarning or a headsup— but he does keep his pace carefully-measured, scaled down to a regular-but-fit human level, so it won't turn any heads and Daisy stands a chance of actually catching up to him, with a little bit of legwork. ]
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[Daisy mutters as he runs off, sighing she looks for a place to put the coffee before just placing it back down on the sand. She's got a stomach full of coffee and alcohol, what could go wrong?
Taking off after him in the sand wasn't exactly easy, but she manages to get at least within earshot of him.]
Do you want me to hurl?
[Daisy asks breathlessly, hoping he'll at least slow down.]
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There is something slightly off about his balance, though — more noticeable when he's in motion, the way he favours one shoulder a bit more, with the weight of it. But Bucky eventually slows down enough that Daisy reaches his side, and he settles into a jog beside her.
He is irritatingly upbeat and unaffected when he exercises. ]
If you do feel like you're gonna hurl, shout and I'll find a trashcan.
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[She could easily drink three of those, but not when she's running through sand. The sand makes this way harder and he's running through it like it's nothing.
Him being upbeat is a good contrast to how much of a mess she is right now. She can feel a knot forming in her side as she slows to a jog.]
It's becoming a bigger possibility by the second.
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You doing okay?
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Stopping to lean against the railing, Daisy doubles over.]
I just need a minute.
[Coming down from being drunk, and from adrenaline, the aches and pains from the fight are really starting to settle in. Not to mention her mess of a stomach.]
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He's mostly forgotten what it's like to get drunk; he's gotten out of the habit, can't really remember what it's like fighting that whirling dizziness. ]
Take your time. I shouldn't've pushed.
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No. It's my fault.
[Licking her lower lip, Daisy closes her eyes to try and keep herself from hurling.]
M'the idiot who drank too much.
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[ Yeah, he's really bad at judging these things anymore — particularly when Daisy even at her default is playful and chatty. ]
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[Both, maybe? She was so desperate to be distracted by coming out here that she didn’t think about how that might not have been a good idea.]
I’m guessing you’re fine because—-
[Daisy gestures blindly.]
Of the serum.
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[ It helps keep him lean, but has its annoying side-effects: the food bills, the inability to enjoy that mellow tipsiness. Bucky probably could get drunk if he really put in the effort and outpaced it, but it'd be conspicuous. Then, a thought occurs to him and he smiles a little, although it's still directed to her back and so she can't see it unless she looks back over her shoulder: ]
So I'm the opposite of a cheap drunk. Kind of an expensive date, sorry.
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[She’s about to push off the railing when she feels her phone buzz. Opening her eyes, she reaches for it from her back pocket and pulls it out to see Jemma texting her.]
I’m in trouble.
[Daisy doesn’t actually sound concerned as she looks up at Bucky with a small smile.
Reading over the messages, she groans.]
I’ve got to go.
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[And normally she wouldn’t be so disappointed. Typing back to Jemma, Daisy pockets her phone and looks up at him.]
We should do this again. Maybe not the running though.
end
Alright. Maybe I'll take it easier on you next time.
[ But that means there is going to be a next time, so there's that. Just sitting on the sands together, without anyone else around, had been... nice. Daisy's easy to talk to; far more than he ever expected, considering how difficult he finds it to get close to people. He can already tell his therapist is probably going to have a goddamn field day with a new name cropping up in his phonebook.
Hands shoved into his threadbare hoodie pockets, he's suddenly unsure how they're supposed to part ways — he's fallen out of the habit of hugs, and doesn't really know where they stand, and what the hell is a normal way to say hello or goodbye to anyone, anyway? With someone like Sam, Bucky tends to just march up to him, launch straight into the conversation, and then awkwardly duck his head and march right out again afterwards.
But once upon a time, eighty years ago, he'd known how to do this. How to turn on the charm, like an old and guttering lightbulb flickering on after years in storage. So he steps a little closer as Daisy straightens up, and he presses a polite, whiskery kiss to her cheek, his jaw rough with stubble. ]
See you then, Daisy.
[ And then he steps away again with a nod, and veers away and settles back into his jog down the boardwalk. Might as well use the rest of the morning, now that he's down here. ]