[ And Daisy is now treated to the sight and sound of one James Buchanan Barnes flustered, the tips of his ears burning in a blush, as he holds open the door for them and they enter the coffee shop. He's unexpectedly easy to tease, and he always walks right into the trap. It's easier for him to shoot the shit with Sam, to banter and argue goodnaturedly back and forth with the other man, but he's rapidly discovering that around her, he gets tongue-tied whenever she presses that particular button.
This is really, really inconvenient. ]
I don't. I mean, I wouldn't not, you're very pretty— But that's not what I—
[ aaauuuuugh ]
I just mean sleep is important and what are you talking about, last night was fine.
[Daisy doesn't expect him to get so flustered, but it brings out that smile again as she walks through the door. Tripping over the lip of the door, she quickly rights herself.
The fact that he keeps talking as if she actually meant what she said was hilarious.]
I was joking. Chill.
[Daisy can hardly keep the smile off her face as she moves to lean against the wall. Okay, so maybe she was still a little drunk...]
[ He's chewing over his next thought, mulling over whether or not he should say what he's considering saying. You're not supposed to mention other women, or let on if there have been others. At least, he's pretty sure how that works. But there's a point to be made here, and so finally Bucky just swallows his reservations and makes it: ]
The last date a friend set me up with, I got too deep in my own head and just walked out on her. So. Us being interrupted by some renegade terrorist cell with an axe to grind against superhumans? That's way preferable, actually. At least that's not either of our faults. Can't exactly promise I'm good company, but I'd run away from criminals with you any day.
[Daisy frowns in sympathy when he mentions what happened on a previous date. She can only imagine how complicated this must all be for him, from what little she knows about what HDYRA did to him.
Fuck HYDRA.
Her stomach does another flip and she wants to make herself believe it's just the alcohol, but she's felt that feeling before. It's never ended well for her when she's felt like this, but she can't help it.]
I dunno. You must be good enough company for me to show up at Coney Island at the ass crack of dawn--
[And still drunk. They're next in line and Daisy already knows what she's ordering.]
What do you want? My treat. Least I can do for last night.
[ "You mean a venti?" the tired cashier asks, and Bucky stares back for a moment, baffled, before agreeing.
"Which roast?"
He stares a little longer at the long list of available beans, lost with the overwhelming variety of choice, before his gaze snags on the Italian roast, mostly because of the moped on the bags. He points, and thank god, that's the ordering done.
Bucky exhales a breath beside her as he listens to the next customer beside them rattling off a long complicated order, like some kind of unintelligible pass-phrase. His next comment really does make him sound like a grumpy old man: ]
[Daisy orders a venti cold brew with light ice and two cake pops. Probably not the best thing to get if they’re actually going on that run, but Jeans isn’t here to scold her.
Moving off to the side to wait for their order, Daisy doesn’t even try to hide her amusement.]
You have no idea what a venti is, do you?
[Reaching for the cake pops she’s being handed, Daisy holds them out in front of her.]
[ He keeps shooting glances at her bruised face. He's grown used to brushing off his own injuries, so maybe he's in no position to fret — but in fairness, his own heal faster than normal.
Bucky eyes the two cake pops when she offers them, before accepting the cookie dough one with an automatic thanks. He tries a delicate bite while they wait for their orders, before they take their drinks and wander out into the dawn sunshine. He winds up having to wolf down the rest of the cake pop before it tumbles off the stick, but he looks pleasantly surprised, enjoying the flavour: ]
[She can see him glancing at her from the corner of her eye but she pays no attention to it. The fact that he seems to care enough about her to be concerned leaves her feeling a little weird. Mostly because she just never expects people to care?]
Good choice.
[Daisy takes a bite out of her birthday cake one, watching his expression as he eats it she has to stop from laughing.]
Uh, I think you could say that about most things.
[Her cake pop falls off the stick but she manages to catch it in her hand. Fuck it. She shoves the whole thing in her mouth, just as her name is called for the drinks. She manages to say ‘Thank you’ around a mouthful of cake. Swallowing thickly she hands Bucky his coffee.]
You sure you’re going to drink all of that?
[Daisy teases, having a feeling he had no idea just how big it would be.]
American portion sizes, I've had some time to get used to. I didn't wake up yesterday, you know. [ Another twitch at the corner of his mouth, an almost-smile. It's been a couple years now, trying to find his footing. ] But yeah, this is... unexpectedly huge. Jesus. I'm gonna be wired. Which I guess was the point, but—
[ Bucky takes a swig of coffee. Already knows he's not going to finish this whole thing, especially if they're about to go running. ]
Where do you live?
[ It seems like a sudden jerk sideways, topic-wise, but he clarifies quickly enough: ]
As in, did it take you a while to get here? If it's the Bronx you must be like two hours away.
[ Is she kidding?? Daisy doesn't look or sound like she usually does when she's ribbing him, so he squints at her as they start moving across the boardwalk and towards the water. ]
[Daisy is so used to it that it takes her a second to realize how it must sound. Taking another sip of her coffee she looks down to see where she’s stepping.]
It’s kind of necessary when you’re basically always on call.
[Unless you turn your phone on silent.]
Never know when the next alien invasion might happen.
Oh, right. SH— your employer likes to use planes, don't they. Like those big helicarrier things?
[ As he thinks about it, a dusty memory yawns its way to life in a series of disconnected images: a HYDRA infiltration. Moving his way steadily through one of said helicarriers. His fist; Steve's cheek. He makes a thoughtful noise. ]
[ Washing up on the beach after jumping out of that helicarrier didn't count. He's slipsliding slightly in the sand, but he finally hobbles slightly to slip off his jogging shoes and socks, which makes it easier to walk beside her and then settle on the sand by her side. The sand is cool for now, but once the sun rises, the heat will ratchet higher and higher. And it'll start heating the metal in his arm, too, until it becomes a burning brand.
Speaking of. While he takes another drink, he moves his left shoulder a little, thoughtfully, like he's working the rotator cuff. The joints in his arm don't like the salt in the water and the air, either. One of several reasons he hasn't enjoyed a day down at the beach for a while. He glances to the side, down the boardwalk, to where the ferris wheel and rollercoaster rises in the distance. ]
I used to come here all the time when I was a kid. Here, or the Rockaways.
Luna Park looks different. Glad they rebuilt it, though.
[Daisy briefly looks at his arm when he rotates it, if she remembers correctly that’s his fake one. Realizing she’s probably staring too long she brings her gaze to his face as he describes his life here before she was even born.]
This has to be so weird for you.
[Daisy puts her drink down for now to wrap an arm around her legs as she leans into them.]
There’s things that are different from even the last time I was here , I can only imagine how jarring it is for you.
People are always talking about the city gentrifying and changing around them. So I guess just take that and multiply it by a hundred.
[ He and Steve had talked about that for a bit, too. Steve's experience when he was thawed: his panicked run out onto the streets, and that dizzying, overwhelming, mind-reeling view of what Times Square had become. Like a blow to the face.
Bucky had had the benefit of living through the decades, but he hadn't really experienced them either, only in choppy disconnected moments whenever he was woken from cryo and brought out for a mission. The memories were slippery, and didn't stick. It was like a procession of still images rather than a cohesive experience. Blink. The sixties. Blink. Seventies. Blink, blink, blink. The years sliding by in a blank colourless haze, and he hadn't properly woken out of his stupor until 2014. Until one day he'd finally woken up, and hadn't gone back under. ]
[Nodding in understanding, Daisy turns her attention to the ocean instead as she rests her chin against the top of her knees. She doesn’t want to push it with him and ask questions about his past that maybe he doesn’t want to talk about.
Which is ironic because now, without him realizing it, he’s asking her questions that she doesn’t really like to answer. Not when it leads to questions about her family.]
Yeah. I got out the moment I could though.
[Daisy tilts her head to look at him.]
LA is more my style.
[She leaves out the part where pretty much all of her memories here are not great.
I could see that for you. Palm trees, sunshine, beaches, and yoga. [ That last part might be joking. Maybe. Bucky leans back on his gloved hands, his coffee cup wedged into the sand where it won't fall over. ]
And yep. Born and raised.
[ A slight hesitation. It's that pause where, ordinarily, he'd be lying or evading or simply sitting silent right about now. It's unexpectedly strange knowing that he doesn't have to do that around her; that he can be a little more honest. So he gives it a shot: ]
I slummed it in Europe for a couple years when I was on the run. It was— kinda nice, actually, but coming home was better. Still can't really picture myself living anywhere else long-term, even if the city's all different.
All over. Eastern Europe, mainly. Sokovia. Romania. Czechoslovak— sorry, I mean, the Czech Republic for a while. Prague's beautiful; it might've been one of my favourites. And it was easier to disappear off the radar compared to London or something. Too much CCTV over there.
[ And he'd never stepped foot back in Russia, either, until circumstances with the Avengers had forced his hand. He still never intended to unless it was outright necessary. ]
'Course I would. Maybe even with a valid passport and my real name this time.
[ Another flicker at the corner of his mouth. It's... nice? just sitting in the sand, side-by-side, and talking. Waiting as that ever-present tension in his shoulders loosens. There are fewer people around at this early hour and there's a fresh sea breeze coming in off the water, free of the car exhaust and rotting trash of Manhattan. The smells of the twenty-first century had been one of the things that had shocked him most, and which he'd had to get used to. ]
And it counts. I haven't really done the whole cross-country roadtrip thing; it sounds like it'd be fun. Did you stop at diners and go see those roadside attractions? World's biggest ball of yarn?
[Daisy can definitely relate to being undercover, which is why she laughs when he mentions possibly going as himself this time. Since he's already taken his shoes off, Daisy does the same and leans back on her elbows to soak in the early morning sun. It's warm enough that she's comfortable without being too hot or too cold.]
Sometimes, yeah. Most of my time was spent--
[She stops herself, not ready to open up too much about her past.]
I was kind of a hacktivist before SHIELD. So, spent a lot of time chasing anything I could get my hands on. Putting the truth out there, which included SHIELD intel.
They can't have liked that. [ Bucky shoots her an assessing, sidelong look now; considering the ramifications of that. ] Was it before or after that whole mess with the huge dump of SHIELD files onto the internet?
[ Nat's doing. Back during aforementioned helicarrier incident: he can almost feel the sting of pain at the memory, muscle-memory in his broken shoulder, and then the accompanying sting of thinking about Nat at all. His memory's a goddamned series of traps that he keeps walking into, and having to steer away from. ]
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[ And Daisy is now treated to the sight and sound of one James Buchanan Barnes flustered, the tips of his ears burning in a blush, as he holds open the door for them and they enter the coffee shop. He's unexpectedly easy to tease, and he always walks right into the trap. It's easier for him to shoot the shit with Sam, to banter and argue goodnaturedly back and forth with the other man, but he's rapidly discovering that around her, he gets tongue-tied whenever she presses that particular button.
This is really, really inconvenient. ]
I don't. I mean, I wouldn't not, you're very pretty— But that's not what I—
[ aaauuuuugh ]
I just mean sleep is important and what are you talking about, last night was fine.
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The fact that he keeps talking as if she actually meant what she said was hilarious.]
I was joking. Chill.
[Daisy can hardly keep the smile off her face as she moves to lean against the wall. Okay, so maybe she was still a little drunk...]
It was. Until it wasn't. Then it was--
Oddly nice.
Then it got awkward again.
[She should just stop talking.]
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[ He's chewing over his next thought, mulling over whether or not he should say what he's considering saying. You're not supposed to mention other women, or let on if there have been others. At least, he's pretty sure how that works. But there's a point to be made here, and so finally Bucky just swallows his reservations and makes it: ]
The last date a friend set me up with, I got too deep in my own head and just walked out on her. So. Us being interrupted by some renegade terrorist cell with an axe to grind against superhumans? That's way preferable, actually. At least that's not either of our faults. Can't exactly promise I'm good company, but I'd run away from criminals with you any day.
[ A nice recovery? Maybe? ]
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Fuck HYDRA.
Her stomach does another flip and she wants to make herself believe it's just the alcohol, but she's felt that feeling before. It's never ended well for her when she's felt like this, but she can't help it.]
I dunno. You must be good enough company for me to show up at Coney Island at the ass crack of dawn--
[
And still drunk.They're next in line and Daisy already knows what she's ordering.]What do you want? My treat. Least I can do for last night.
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[ "You mean a venti?" the tired cashier asks, and Bucky stares back for a moment, baffled, before agreeing.
"Which roast?"
He stares a little longer at the long list of available beans, lost with the overwhelming variety of choice, before his gaze snags on the Italian roast, mostly because of the moped on the bags. He points, and thank god, that's the ordering done.
Bucky exhales a breath beside her as he listens to the next customer beside them rattling off a long complicated order, like some kind of unintelligible pass-phrase. His next comment really does make him sound like a grumpy old man: ]
They made coffee too complicated.
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Moving off to the side to wait for their order, Daisy doesn’t even try to hide her amusement.]
You have no idea what a venti is, do you?
[Reaching for the cake pops she’s being handed, Daisy holds them out in front of her.]
Which one do you want?
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Bucky eyes the two cake pops when she offers them, before accepting the cookie dough one with an automatic thanks. He tries a delicate bite while they wait for their orders, before they take their drinks and wander out into the dawn sunshine. He winds up having to wolf down the rest of the cake pop before it tumbles off the stick, but he looks pleasantly surprised, enjoying the flavour: ]
Okay. So some modern things aren't the worst.
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Good choice.
[Daisy takes a bite out of her birthday cake one, watching his expression as he eats it she has to stop from laughing.]
Uh, I think you could say that about most things.
[Her cake pop falls off the stick but she manages to catch it in her hand. Fuck it. She shoves the whole thing in her mouth, just as her name is called for the drinks. She manages to say ‘Thank you’ around a mouthful of cake. Swallowing thickly she hands Bucky his coffee.]
You sure you’re going to drink all of that?
[Daisy teases, having a feeling he had no idea just how big it would be.]
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[ Bucky takes a swig of coffee. Already knows he's not going to finish this whole thing, especially if they're about to go running. ]
Where do you live?
[ It seems like a sudden jerk sideways, topic-wise, but he clarifies quickly enough: ]
As in, did it take you a while to get here? If it's the Bronx you must be like two hours away.
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[Daisy corrects before taking a sip of hers. She has a very personal and intimate relationship with coffee. Okay, it’s a full blown addiction.
She’s about to answer his question when he makes another joke.]
I live on a plane, but I took the subway to get here. The team kind of has no idea I slipped out.
[She’s already prepared for angry voicemails and text messages, which is why she put her phone on silent.]
You want to go sit on the beach?
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[ Is she kidding?? Daisy doesn't look or sound like she usually does when she's ribbing him, so he squints at her as they start moving across the boardwalk and towards the water. ]
Backtrack for a sec. You live on a plane?
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It’s kind of necessary when you’re basically always on call.
[
Unless you turn your phone on silent.]Never know when the next alien invasion might happen.
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[ As he thinks about it, a dusty memory yawns its way to life in a series of disconnected images: a HYDRA infiltration. Moving his way steadily through one of said helicarriers. His fist; Steve's cheek. He makes a thoughtful noise. ]
I jumped off one once as it was crashing.
[ No big deal. ]
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[Once they're close enough to the water, Daisy plops down in the sand and looks up at Bucky expecting him to do the same.
Wincing when he tries to relate to her, Daisy tries not to laugh.]
That sounds--
Fun.
[He was cute, even when he said stupid things.]
It's been a while since I've been to a beach.
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[ Washing up on the beach after jumping out of that helicarrier didn't count. He's slipsliding slightly in the sand, but he finally hobbles slightly to slip off his jogging shoes and socks, which makes it easier to walk beside her and then settle on the sand by her side. The sand is cool for now, but once the sun rises, the heat will ratchet higher and higher. And it'll start heating the metal in his arm, too, until it becomes a burning brand.
Speaking of. While he takes another drink, he moves his left shoulder a little, thoughtfully, like he's working the rotator cuff. The joints in his arm don't like the salt in the water and the air, either. One of several reasons he hasn't enjoyed a day down at the beach for a while. He glances to the side, down the boardwalk, to where the ferris wheel and rollercoaster rises in the distance. ]
I used to come here all the time when I was a kid. Here, or the Rockaways.
Luna Park looks different. Glad they rebuilt it, though.
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This has to be so weird for you.
[Daisy puts her drink down for now to wrap an arm around her legs as she leans into them.]
There’s things that are different from even the last time I was here , I can only imagine how jarring it is for you.
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[ He and Steve had talked about that for a bit, too. Steve's experience when he was thawed: his panicked run out onto the streets, and that dizzying, overwhelming, mind-reeling view of what Times Square had become. Like a blow to the face.
Bucky had had the benefit of living through the decades, but he hadn't really experienced them either, only in choppy disconnected moments whenever he was woken from cryo and brought out for a mission. The memories were slippery, and didn't stick. It was like a procession of still images rather than a cohesive experience. Blink. The sixties. Blink. Seventies. Blink, blink, blink. The years sliding by in a blank colourless haze, and he hadn't properly woken out of his stupor until 2014. Until one day he'd finally woken up, and hadn't gone back under. ]
You said you grew up in Hell's Kitchen?
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Which is ironic because now, without him realizing it, he’s asking her questions that she doesn’t really like to answer. Not when it leads to questions about her family.]
Yeah. I got out the moment I could though.
[Daisy tilts her head to look at him.]
LA is more my style.
[She leaves out the part where pretty much all of her memories here are not great.
She uses the uno reverse card on him.]
Brooklyn, right?
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And yep. Born and raised.
[ A slight hesitation. It's that pause where, ordinarily, he'd be lying or evading or simply sitting silent right about now. It's unexpectedly strange knowing that he doesn't have to do that around her; that he can be a little more honest. So he gives it a shot: ]
I slummed it in Europe for a couple years when I was on the run. It was— kinda nice, actually, but coming home was better. Still can't really picture myself living anywhere else long-term, even if the city's all different.
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It’s the pants, isn’t it?
[Yoga wasn’t her thing despite May trying to teach her. She’s much rather take her emotions out by sparring, or in actual fights.]
Where in Europe did you live?
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[ And he'd never stepped foot back in Russia, either, until circumstances with the Avengers had forced his hand. He still never intended to unless it was outright necessary. ]
How about you? Anywhere besides NYC and LA?
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Would you ever go back to Prague?
[She sits up a bit straighter when he asks her about where else she might’ve moved to.]
I traveled cross-country to get to LA, does that count?
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[ Another flicker at the corner of his mouth. It's... nice? just sitting in the sand, side-by-side, and talking. Waiting as that ever-present tension in his shoulders loosens. There are fewer people around at this early hour and there's a fresh sea breeze coming in off the water, free of the car exhaust and rotting trash of Manhattan. The smells of the twenty-first century had been one of the things that had shocked him most, and which he'd had to get used to. ]
And it counts. I haven't really done the whole cross-country roadtrip thing; it sounds like it'd be fun. Did you stop at diners and go see those roadside attractions? World's biggest ball of yarn?
no subject
Sometimes, yeah. Most of my time was spent--
[She stops herself, not ready to open up too much about her past.]
I was kind of a hacktivist before SHIELD. So, spent a lot of time chasing anything I could get my hands on. Putting the truth out there, which included SHIELD intel.
no subject
[ Nat's doing. Back during aforementioned helicarrier incident: he can almost feel the sting of pain at the memory, muscle-memory in his broken shoulder, and then the accompanying sting of thinking about Nat at all. His memory's a goddamned series of traps that he keeps walking into, and having to steer away from. ]
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