Work Text:
Prompt- Penpals
Since leaving the army, he'd been told that he should get a hobby, network, make new friends, try something new.
Well, this was new, he supposed.
He'd been given a penpal by the VA. Okay. He could do this. He'd been given a 'penpal', some guy or gal still on tour. And he had to write to them, to tell them stuff. About himself. Sure, no problem. None at all. Right?
His jaw clenched as he struggled to find the words. A sigh the size of a bomb crater left him, it was so hard to get started on these sorts of things.
My Name is James-
No. That was weird. He didn't like that. He crossed it out, and ended up doodling on the page. Sharks, of course. Why not?
Shit, shit. Task at hand.
I am Seargent Barnes and I killed twelve men in a raid, and lost my unit. I feel nothing.
No. He was not going to write that.
He scrapped that paper, taking a deep breath.
I'm called Bucky.
I did two tours of Iraq and one of Afghanistan. My hair is brown and so are my eyes, I'm 5'9, 26 years old and I'm an Amputee, my arm was damaged by a cargo train having a hidden bomb on it and so I have a full arm prosthetic. I grew up in New York but I was born in Indiana, and live in a Russian owned apartment block just outside of DC with my cat Mishka, her name means little mouse in Russian or something like that. She is blind in one eye and always fights with the dogs on the floor above mine, and is a sooty grey in color. My sister is called Rebecca, and she enjoys dancing, and making me go out when I would rather not. Lots of people in my apartment block assume I'm a ghost with how little they see or hear me, but I don't really care about that. I'm pretty sure one of my neighbours is a spy, or a former spy because she's as quiet as I am, and I only ever hear her singing in Russian when she's here. Which is about twice every six months. I've lived here for a year and a half, and didn't even know she existed until her friend tried to break into my apartment when he was drunk, without realising it was the wrong apartment. Her name is Yelena and that is all I know about her.
I suppose I look forward to you writing back. It'll get the VA guys off my back.
He folded it up, putting it in the designated envelope, and would give it to Jeffrey Mace, since he was the one pushing him for it. Asshole always rubbed him the wrong way, like he was trying to hard to be someone he wasn't. Whatever. He'd hand in the letter and wait.
A few weeks later he got a return letter. It'd been surprising enough when he'd heard a letter come through the letterbox, that he almost ran to get it.
Dear Bucky
My name is Captain Rogers, I'm 27, 6'2, my hair is blonde and my eyes are blue, I'm very athletic and enjoy movies. I was born and raised in New York, my family are Irish-American and this is my fifth tour of duty. I have a dog out here, found him by the roadside and decided he should be my friend for a while. She's called Angie, after my friend Peggy's gal pal back home. She's got sort of dusty brown fur and we make her wear a cape on base. She gets to wear sunglasses in the convoys and she loves it.
At home I live with my own pal Natasha, she doesn't know about Angie but when I finish this tour I'm bringing Angie home to live with us. Natasha's recently moved our stuff to DC, so I'm sure when this is all over we can meet up for drinks or something like that!
I'm not sure how long it'll be before you get this letter, but I'm sure it'll get to me sooner or later. Don't be too harsh on the guys at the VA center, they're doing their best to help you out, buddy.
Your sincerely
Captain Rogers
P.S Mishka sounds very cute, you should send me a photo of her
P.P.S I'm sure your neighbour's not really a spy, probably mafia though. Befriend her and we can be rich!
Bucky found himself grinning at the letter as he drew back the curtains, letting light into the musty room. He looked around, a little dismayed at how messy the apartment was. It wasn't fancy, but it looked like it'd been raided.
Bucky shook his head, leaving the letter from Captain Rogers on the side as he began to try and sort out the shit in his apartment.
Mishka sat beside the letter, and he paused his ransacking of his desk to pet her head, planting a tiny kiss to the tip of her nose. He then changed her water and washed her food bowl, giving her clean water and new food before going to shower.
He sat down after his shower at the newly cleared desk and began to write in return.
Rogers
I hope you know you described yourself as a model, I'm assuming you're not, since you're in the army though. Maybe you're more of a terminator or terminatorix or something of that sort. You never said what your first name is, so I'm going to have to call you either Rogers or Cap.
Angie sounds like a great dog, though she'd probably have the shit kicked out of her by my Mishka, who is currently sporting a bandage on her tail because she let the dogs get hold of her. Silly cat. I hope your tour goes well. How long do you have left on it?
Mine was cut short by the accident, but it was still an honorable discharge. I hope my letter reaches you and you're well.
I'm not going to befriend a random Russian woman, what if her big buff boyfriend beats me up? It'll be the end of me, then you'll never get to meet your new penpal. Look out for exploding goats, they're a treat this time of year.
When's your birthday, by the way? Mine's in April, so it's normally raining when my birthday comes around. Would you like anything for your birthday? Not sure why I'm so eager to send you something, but I suppose we're friends now punk. Going to have to get rid of me eventually, but you bet your ass I'll write to you all the same.
All the best
Bucky Barnes
The letter in return arrived two weeks later while Bucky was doing some work around the apartment block. He'd figured he might as well help his neighbours with their housework, fix things since the building superintendant was so rarely home. He began to learn about his neighbours. Two doors down there lived young twins, probably in their teens. Their father owned the apartment block, and Bucky started to find them appearing in his apartment when he came home from the VA center or from fixing the shower up on fifth floor, or doing the grouting for Mrs Sacha on the sixth floor.
He started to find them tidying up his apartment in return, if he'd left dishes in the sink they'd be spotless and put away when he came home. They left the letter on his makeshift desk, no doubt he'd get questions from Wanda about it later.
Dear Bucky
You can call me Steve or Stevie if you want, you jerk.
My birthday is the fourth of July. Crazy, right? Everyone growing up called me patriot kid. That, or they'd beat me up because I used to fight everyone. Anyway, I guess I'd like some candy sent over for my birthday if you're up for it. I'm a sweet guy, after all. Not surprising really, that I joined the army when I had such a noble and sweet streak. Never liked bullies, still don't. I've punched out people in the army before, for picking on someone. Got me in trouble, but I never cared so much.
Angie's been responding to her training well, she can sniff out bombs really fast now. I'm so proud of her! AND she barks when there's unknown personnel around. Clever, right? How's everything with Mishka? Is she a prized KGB hunter yet? I'll be disappointed if she isn't. Maybe some beef jerky for Angie as my birthday present. It's up to you.
It's been really bad lately. Been shot at a lot, not very fun. I miss NY every single day. At least I don't have a girlfriend or boyfriend who's waiting for me at home, or that'd really hurt and make the homesickness worse.
Yours faithfully
Steve
Steve.
Steeeeeve.
He liked the sound of that, and quickly penned out a response.
Stevie-o
I'll send you some candy and beef jerky for your birthday, hopefully it'll arrive with this letter. My real name is James, if you were wondering. Bucky comes from my middle name, which is a bit dumb. I'm named after the fifteenth president. I don't think he did anything impressive though.
I've been doing work around the apartment complex where I live, and I've sort of gained two leeches called Wanda and Pietro. Their dad owns the place, so I can't be too mean. They like being around here, and I've started fixing up people's apartments for them and they give me a little money or food for it. I'm even learning Russian for helping them. Crazy right? Yelena the spy hasn't been back yet, thank god. The twin leeches keep me company or force me out of the house to run errands for them, or take them places. I'm not sure how this happened, but I don't mind it too much because they're good kids. Somebody's gotta look after them, right?
I'm pretty sure I saw you getting the shit kicked out of you once. Little blonde kid holding a bin lid. I jumped in too, never saw that kid again though. It's a small world isn't it?
I hope you get this letter and you're well. When you come back home, don't go out again if you're feeling that low right now. I'm sure you'll find someone for you once you come back home, someone who'll understand you enough. If not you can co-raise these teenage brats with me.
Bucky.
P.S. You sound ridiculous. Born on the fourth of July. You're like some kinda Captain America.
Bucky whistled all the way to the shop, getting some candies and beef jerky, and a box, writing 'Captain S. Rogers' on it, taking both to the center to get them sent off. His phone buzzed, a message from one of the twins probably.
Bucky. Something bad is happening in Yelena's apartment. We need you to come back right now.
-W
Shit.
It was if he entered the same frame of mind as when he was in the warzone, running back to his car and driving like a man possessed to the apartment block. He could see the blonde woman being dragged out by her hair by some guy, and several of the people who lived around them were gathered at the front of the building. They couldn't call the police, as several of them didn't have valid visas.
Wanda was holding an obviously beaten Pietro, and he knelt down beside them.
“How many? What are they here for? Weapons?” He felt almost separate from his body as he acted.
“Five guys, one has a baseball bat, two have guns and I stole the gun of the leader. The other guy has knuckledusters.” Wanda quickly responded, accent strong as she did so. She probably lapsed into Russian, but he didn't care and understood. “Give me the gun.” He was passed it with shaking hands, and he checked it over. Fully functioning.
Bucky slowly worked his way through the crowd, almost silently until he was by his front door. He could see his usually absent neighbour flinching away, kicking and hissing curses in Russian.
“Excuse me fellas, do you want to put the lady down?” He growled out, feeling himself readying for a fight.
“Walk away. It's none of your business what we do with the bitch. She betrayed us. Walk away, yank.” The leader squared his jaw, and Bucky felt something in him snap, shooting him in the foot before kicking the other guy with a gun in the knee, then punching his throat. He acted with almost cold precision, kicking the gun away from the downed man and off the pathway. The other three men looked between them and nodded, the one with a baseball bat swung at him, but he ducked, the bat hitting the wall. That mistake was all he needed, shooting him in the arm and then kneeing him in the head. He was completely aware of his surroundings, including the crowd beneath them. He had five minutes until the police arrived.
The other man with a gun took aim, and Bucky leapt aside, wishing that stupid woman would wake up and start fighting.
Wanda was approaching the men from behind, so only Bucky could see her. It seems she'd copied his way of moving, almost entirely silent. When the man with the gun took aim again she leapt on him from behind, sticking her thumbs into his eyes. Bucky took that moment to shoot the man with knuckledusters in the shoulder and kick him away, before pulling Wanda away and getting her behind him. He punched with his good arm, knowing the man wouldn't be able to see the blows and dodge.
He was downed.
“Zaika, get her inside.” He hissed, and she took the blonde woman, dragging with all her might as the first sirens wailed in the distance. “Lock the door behind you once Pietro comes in.”
Bucky didn't have long, so he placed one man inside the apartment, hoping there'd be incriminating evidence.
The tenants stood firmly outside, the crowd had dispersed and stood in front of the building as the police cars arrived.
Another car parked across the road and a woman with red hair got out, and she almost seemed to blend into the crowd of Russians that had appeared from nowhere.
Pietro limped up and flashed a bold smile. “We protect our own. Don't worry.” He mumbled before the door slammed behind him. Bucky made his way down to the police, making sure his prosthetic arm was completely visible, he'd left the gun with one of the bodies, and made his way to the front of the crowd.
“Excuse me sir, we need to know what has just happened.” The officer asked, the rest still had their guns drawn.
“You see, I was out getting food for my two kids, when I get a text from my daughter Wanda. Some thugs had come looking for someone and burst into the wrong apartment and beat my son up. I came home to find the thugs all fighting each other, and managed to get the gun off of one of the guys, accidentally shooting the weaponless man in the foot, before I shot another in defence.” The lie flowed easily from his mouth, and he noticed the red haired woman approaching.
“I can confirm his story. I'm his girlfriend- our children were attacked while we were out- It's all true. Everyone here can tell you it's true. We think they were looking for my sister who is out of the country.” This woman was even better at lying than he was, and she was able to quickly work with the lie.
“It's true! They attacked little pietro!” Came a shout from the crowd. Mrs Sacha.
“I saw it too! James acted in defence of his and Natalia's children!” Came another shout. A tennant from floor three.
“You can leave, officers. We handle our own problems.” Bucky had his hand clasping the red haired woman's hand tightly. “You can arrest them later. I want to see my children.”
The officers didn't seem convinced, and pushed through the crowd, bringing the attackers down one by one. They couldn't prove Bucky did it all, there was a crowd of witnesses in his favour. After taking a few witness statements they let Bucky and 'Natalia' go, since they couldn't take statements from what they assumed were minors.
He unlocked the door and was surprised to see Wanda had handcuffed the blonde woman to the radiator.
Since when did she have handcuffs?
“Did our father send you?” Wanda asked, looking behind Bucky to see the red haired woman.
“Yes. He was informed of the shots and sent me. I'm to pretend to be your guardian for a few weeks until the fuss dies down. Mr Barnes, my name is Natasha but to the police I am Natalia Barnes. You moved into this apartment with me when we had our children, my mother is Mrs Alianova- Mrs Sacha as you know her. That is Yelena Belova and I will have her taken away and dealt with. She won't be harmed. Wanda, we're going to need to contact your father and have the appropriate documents made. It won't be forever. Just a few weeks.”
Bucky was completely lost.
What the fuck.
“Who the fuck is your father?” He looked at Wanda who shifted a little and glanced at Pietro.
“Erik Lensherr.”
Oh.
Ooooh shit.
He was in too deep. He knew about Erik Lensherr. Guy was wanted by the FBI, CIA, worked for various assassination groups in Europe and Russian secret services too.
“Okay. Right. Cool.” Bucky realised he was shaking, and he had been since leaving the police.
Once he had some privacy he penned another letter to Steve.
Stevie. The Captain.
Something crazy just happened. After I sent your stuff, I got a message from those kids and some crazy fucking guy attacked my spy-mafia neighbour and hit one of them.
I can't go into detail what I did to the guys, but they're all in hospital.
Some red head chick named 'Natasha' is looking after the kids with me.
Please write back soon I'm freaking out so much about this and would like some normalcy. I'm still sorta shaken up. Mishka won't get off of Pietro and his sister is hovering around him awkwardly and keeps muttering stuff in Russian that I can't hear to Natasha.
Bucky.
P.S. The spy-mafia chick was called Yelena like I thought she was.
He sent the letter the next day, Wanda accompanying him to the center and then forcing him to stay and sit through a proper meeting for amputees, making him tie his hair up and talk.
His hand shook as he recounted the mission that took the lives of his team, and Wanda held his hand as he explained how it felt to have his arm ripped away. Some of the others seemed almost sad, assuming Wanda was his daughter as she'd introduced herself as.
She stuck close to him on the walk home, insisting on walking together because he needed the exercise.
“My father won't make you continue to pay rent. You've done him a service, and you look after me and Pietro well enough. He'll probably start paying you. Then you can move out of this dump and come somewhere nicer like the apartment block that Natasha lives in. We'll be moved there soon enough.” Wanda said, in Russian as they shopped together at the walmart. “I suppose somewhere nicer would do me good, but I don't want to abandon the others, I've only just learnt how to be their friend.” He grunted in response, Russian a little choppy.
“I know, but your safety should come first.”
That was all she had to say after that, buying the food she wanted, and some clothes.
Steve's letter in response came a few weeks later, just after his birthday.
Enclosed was a picture of Angie sitting with her paws on the wheel of a convoy, sunglasses on her face.
Bucky couldn't help but smile at that, before reading the letter.
Dear Bucky,
I hope you're okay! Your letter scared the bejeezus out of me and made me worry for your safety. You'd better keep yourself alive until I get back so I can kill you myself you jerk. I hope those twins are okay though, and you're all well. I'm sure everything will be fine.
And if you're the kid that called me a “Shit-ass punk” then yes, you did rescue me from having the snot beaten out of me that one time.
I come off duty in three months, hopefully. I'd like you to meet me at the airport, so I can make everyone jealous of my cool friend who sent us candy, if you'd want to meet me.
I think the DC VA center is going to arrange a group skype call for everyone, you should come along to it! My pal Natasha is going because I asked her to, so you should come as well. Angie loved her beef jerky by the way, so when she meets you she will probably love you more than she loves me because I make her eat the things I hate.
Writing to you helps with the homesickness because you know how it feels to be out here, and you're my buddy and support.
Three guys died today and I don't know how to feel. I feel like I've let down their families, I'm sad because those are lives that will never be lived again. I'm angry because I should have stopped them dying. I feel responsible.
It is not fun, and I wish for this tour to be over. I carry your letters between camps, because I think of them as good company. Write back soon.
Yours faithfully
Captain America.
P.S I love the nickname. Thanks Buck.
Bucky let out a soft sigh, but wrote back after he took in the information.
Dear Stevie.
It's not your fault, just like it's not my fault I was the only one to survive when my unit was killed. All of them were dead and I survived. I was thinking, what did I do to deserve living? Even with a damaged arm and shattered psyche. I've come to understand that living is something that is harder than dying.
You have to survive to carry on their memory. I'll meet you and Angie at the airport in three months. Get to meet my long distance buddy for the first time. I'll even bring you cotton candy. I'm sure you've missed that. I might be moving into a new apartment when you come back, somewhere in DC with the twins. Expensive place or something. Their dad is thankful that I looked after them when that stuff happened. It'll be nice to leave here, but I'll miss these mad Russkies.
Mishka really likes the woman who's pretending to be the teenager's mom. She always sings songs to Mishka in Russian. Maybe she used to own Mishka, since she seems to know everyone in this block.
The world is so strange. It keeps spinning on no matter what weirdness happens.
Bucky.
Bucky sent off the letter, a small package beef jerky and candy corns for Steve and Angie, then found out about the skype call. He hated Jeffrey, holy hell. The call was set up for two weeks time, so he would go for sure.
Two weeks later he found himself cramped in with a few other guys from the center, the heat had died down at the apartment so he could leave without one of the teenagers hanging off his arm.
He waited, breath bated slightly as the call connected.
“Hey guys and gals of DC! Captain Rogers and squad here!”
Bucky's heart jumped into his throat.
Oh no.
He was so cute.
What the fuck why was he so cute. That was his Steve. That punk. God damn.
The others introduced themselves, and eventually he realised it was his turn, finding himself flushing a little.
“Hey Cap, it's me. I'm Bucky.” He couldn't help but grin when Roger's eyes lit up. “That's my Buck! Look guys I told you he was great!” Steve beamed, and Bucky was pretty sure his heart had melted.
“But Nat's not here yet! Anyone know where she is?” Steve squinted at the screen, obviously looking for his Pal.
At that moment Natasha, the scary Russian mobster and faux-mom entered and Bucky's jaw dropped.
“There she is! Bucky, that's my room mate!”
“Yeah. She uh, she's the one who's been helping with the teenagers.” Bucky was shocked,
“Nat!” Steve seemed unsurprised, and even laughed.
Weird.
He spent the next week in a daze. Steve's laugh was wonderful.
Natasha had simply given him a knowing smirk when he asked if she was keeping tabs on him.
Steve's letter in reply didn't come that week.
Or the week after.
Or the week after that.
It didn't come until a month and a half later.
Dear Bucky.
Sorry I didn't reply sooner. We were ambushed and I was held prisoner for a few weeks.
I promise I'm okay! Angie was so upset without me. We're being sent home in August, find out from Nat when and then you can meet me at the airport. I know this letter will arrive shortly before I do, so don't bother replying. You can do it in person!
You should have said you're cute before the skype call, everyone was asking if you were my boyfriend when the call was over. Probably want to steal you for themselves, really.
But you're my buddy, Buck. I'm with you until the end of the line, you don't get a choice because you're my pal. You huge jerk.
Love, Steve.
Bucky wasn't sure how to respond, so he folded it away into the moving boxes, he'd been given one of the nicer apartments in the apartment block in DC with the twins having the one next door. Natasha and steve were one over from the twins.
Strange world.
The move was done five days before Steve came back, and Mishka had finally settled down in their new home. Not everything was how Bucky wanted it, but he didn't have much in the way of furnishings to start with, so the fact that the twins had insisted on buying furniture big enough for at least five people was useful. In a weird way. His bed was big enough, and the general colours seemed to be blue. They even got him a houseplant. Though he knew the money had to have come from illegal funding, but he couldn't find it in himself to argue, since he got paid shit all now he was out of the military.
On the day of Steve's return he was awake with the sunrise, unable to sleep once he realised what was happening.
He made some breakfast for the twins, and then went to shower, knowing they'd have let themselves in by the time he was done in there.
And he was right.
He still had the towel on his head, prosthetic left on the side by the sink and the twins were eating their stack of pancakes as if they'd forgotten how to breathe.
Bucky rolled his eyes. He hated teenagers. Sort of.
He sat down beside them, his pancake stack had two removed from it, which was to be expected. They gave him a little smile.
“Nervous?” Pietro asked, raising a brow at the way he bounced his leg.
“I'm not nervous. I'm excited. I think.” He replied, before reaching over to pluck a strawberry off of the boy's plate. “Excited to see your long distance crush.” Wanda smirked, kicking her brother under the table. “Nervous and excited to see your long distance crush.” the teenager replied, kicking his sister harder.
“No fighting at the table.” Bucky grunted, before blocking them out to eat.
He was going to meet Steve today.
His Steve.
Wait no. Not His Steve but The Steve.
Fuck it.
What was he going to do with his hair? Wear it down? Ponytail? Plait? Curl it in little sausage rolls?
Fuck that.
“Wanda, do something with my hair.” He grunted, and he knew the twins were doing their strange non-verbal twin speak.
“We'll put most of it in a ponytail but keep some down. Makes you look like you're not a homeless person.” Pietro stuck his tongue out when Bucky rolled his eyes.
He stood at the airport, shifting his weight from leg to leg, fingers tapping against his thumb as he waited. They should be here by now!
Natasha was sat asleep on the benches. Well, he thought she was asleep. It's hard to tell, with her. She's like a cat in that sense. Weirdo.
He had his third slushie of the day, this one was pink and blue mixed together. Seemed right. The airport was too warm, almost sweltering as he stood waiting. He wanted to shout, or to pace. But that'd seem weird.
A bark broke through the airport hum, and Bucky turned his head to find the source. Was it Angie the dog?
No. Airport security.
He sat down beside Natasha and grumbled in Russian before settling down for a nap.
He was shaken awake and growled a quiet curse, swatting away the hands. It was probably Pietro. Again.
Bucky looked up, and was met by blue eyes. He didn't see that coming.
“There's my Bucky! Guys, he's over here!”
“Steve?”
“That's right sleeping beauty. In the flesh, finally. Angie's over there with the real Angie. C'mon, we just got here. Time to make some more friends.” Steve offered his hand, and Bucky couldn't help but let himself be pulled up by Steve. Who then didn't let go of his hand.
Oh.
OH.
He let a small smile slip, and let Steve hold his hand as they went over to the rest of his unit.
He didn't hear what they had to say, focused on the contact with him and Steve.
Dear Steve
You were easily the thing that I looked forward to while, it helped. A lot. It didn't fix me, you know that.
But it helped. And I got a friend from it. Maybe more. We've been inseperable for months now.
Would you like to go on a date next monday? I'll pay.
From Bucky.