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SomeSortofItalianRoast
Bucky groaned, getting to his feet. His head, arm, leg, and side throbbed. Everything throbbed, and he was hoping that someone had gotten the number of the truck that tried to run him over. Figuratively, at least, since he’d simply tripped. And then slid down a hill. And then another hill. Or something. Luckily, the snow at the bottom had cushioned his fall. He groaned again, staggering on his feet.
He pressed his hand to his side, scanning the area. There. A building. Probably one of those wilderness cabins. He slowly started making his way towards it, the aches and pains in his body fading as the off-brand serum he received started working its magic. By the time he got to the cabin, he was barely in pain, despite the fairly extended tumble he’d taken. He was freezing cold, and starving. Getting warm was more important.
The door to the cabin was strangely unlocked, but seemed otherwise undisturbed. It looked like one of the cabins run by the Forest Service, so maybe whoever had been the last visitor to the cabin simply hadn’t had the keys to lock up. It was almost as cold inside as it was outside, but Bucky noticed a fireplace.
And there was a nice supply of wood outside. It seemed to have been properly seasoned, too. He ducked back out into the snow, and grabbed a large armful, taking it back into the cabin. There was a supply of matches and tinder next to the fireplace, which he made quick use of, smiling as he thought of the last few times he’d started a fire. The ones he could remember, at least. Trying to heat the cold water tenement in Brooklyn, back when affording heat was never a guarantee, or those smokeless fires in the Alps, to keep the Nazis from finding them.
It was one of the things he missed, living in Stark’s Tower in the sky, having a fireplace. The place was kept at the perfect temperature and humidity all year long, but there was something about curling up under a blanket in front of a roaring fire, which no screen in the world could accomplish.
Ribbonsflying
Shaking himself from his reverie, he took in the small cabin: one bedroom, the kitchen, and the little open space between them where the hearth was in front of a worn sofa. Curling up with a book and hot cocoa by the fire? That sounded like a dream right now so he got the fire going strong, tossed a knitted blanket onto the sofa, and headed toward the kitchen.
There may not be hot chocolate, but these places usually had some basic coffee packets. He opened the first cabinet to find some powdered creamer and packs of sugar; he was on the right track. He opened the next cabinet to find bug spray- that absolutely wasn’t going in his mug. Then he opened the next cabinet to find his mug (even if it was dusty, had pink and red hearts on it, and one dead beetle inside.)
“If someone drank all the coffee, I’m gonna be upset,” he spoke out loud to the empty kitchen. Then as he set about washing the mug, he glanced outside the window to the see the snow falling much heavier than it had been just a few moments before. “Well, Barnes, looks like you’re staying in tonight,” he told himself. He dried the mug with a paper towel and flipped open the next cabinet door to see some generic store brand coffee packets. But behind that, was good old reliable Swiss Miss. Jackpot.
Okay, the books weren’t actually available anywhere in the cabin, but Bucky pulled out his phone and asked the group chat if someone would please drop by his rooms in the tower and feed his cat.
“Alpine WILL report back to me,” he texted threateningly.
Then he glanced up and his eyes caught sight of a wooden chest he had yet to investigate. “Tell me your secrets,” he commanded to the chest with a silly wave of his metal fingers toward the chest. He walked over and unlatched the hinge, lifting the lid. A dusty lantern, some rain boots, another pack of matches, and two Nerf Guns were all tossed inside. Some kid was probably upset at the items they had left behind, but as Bucky lifted one of the toys out and checked that it had a few foam darts inside, he was absolutely delighted.
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The thing was there was no one to be on the receiving end of his shots, but that wasn’t about to stop him. With an eagerness he hadn’t experienced in years—decades, likely—he scooped up the guns and darts, loaded both weapons, and surveyed the cabin. It was mostly bare, but with enough imagination, he could spend his time convalescing here while simultaneously improving his fighting skills for his next mission.
No matter what, there were always new missions. Never mind that he (and definitely Steve and likely the rest of the Avengers) deserved a break. Forget that he’d been brainwashed and tortured and all sorts of terrible things. No matter that he felt like his entire body should be put on ice—but not in a cryofreeze chamber. Despite all those things, a new job always emerged just when Bucky thought he’d get some downtime and be able to relax for a little while before helping save the world again.
So, sure. A secluded cabin with spotty service (even with the satellite phones Tony gifted everyone the last holiday season), a treasure trove of cocoa, and some toys seemed like a holiday to him, even with the exhaustion and aches and pains and serious burnout. In fact, maybe this mission going sideways wasn’t the worst thing in the world. He’d already asked his friends to check on Alpine. They knew he’d survived his latest assignment. If they’d just leave him alone and let him come back on his own, that would be ideal. He really didn’t feel like playing nice.
One glance outside indicated that he wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. With a half-grin, he set some water on to boil, took stock of the ample stores in the pantry, and moved a few pieces of furniture. As the water bubbled cheerfully on the stove, he cocked the guns, set his feet, and closed his eyes. One deep breath was all he needed. Completely focused, he opened his eyes and took aim.
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He shot, pressing the trigger and sending a quick flash of water to the tiny space that was between the unlocked door and the cabin’s front wall.
Before that, when he had been looking for a good target, he thought that maybe the door didn’t lock at all since it was open again. Or perhaps he hadn’t pulled hard enough, not wanting to hurt some unknown property.
But right now, his thoughts were on his actual target. Not where he meant to shoot to, but on the person that had stepped inside at the last minute and now stood in shock, half their hood-covered face wet from the gun attack. With all the excitement of finding the guns and finally having some for-me time, Bucky hadn’t heard the heavy footsteps approaching the cabin, making their way through the thick snow. Now he could only stay still and look apologetic.
It took them both a moment to react, but the other person closed the door with a loud click on the lowest part of the door, the closest to the frame, and it surprisingly stayed closed. Bucky guessed this person knew their way around from the clever trick he had pulled through, and now only hoped for the (most probably) owner of the cabin not to kick him out and into the snow after such an innocent attack.
This person pulled off the hood of their coat, and Bucky finally saw a familiar face. Without glasses but with the curls that characterise him, Bruce Banner got rid of his scarf and coat, looking anything but angry. Only confused. “Is that a Nerf gun?”
“Yes,” Bucky replied, holding it up to show it. “And is this your cabin?”
“Yes,” Bruce nodded. Then took a deep look at him. “Since when are Nerf guns a part of your mission gear?”
“This?” Bucky chuckled. “It was here. In fact, there is another one right on that chest.” He pointed at it. He guessed no kid had let them behind after all, and Bucky was now more curious to know how they had gotten there.
“Well, they’re probably Rick’s,” Bruce realised. “An old friend of mine. I mentored him in Culver. Still a kid in heart.”
Bucky nodded, that added up. “So, uh … sorry to show up uninvited? And shooting at you.”
“Please, just tell me Steve doesn’t need me on my free week.”
Politzania
“Not that I know of,” Bucky replied with a shrug. “To be honest, I was hoping maybe I could stick around here for a little while myself.” As a slight frown crossed Bruce’s face, Bucky added, “Of course, that was before I knew that this was your private getaway. Just say the word and I’ll call for evac.”
Bruce shook his head. “Not necessary. You’re welcome to stay, as long as you don’t mind sleeping on the sofa.”
Bucky couldn’t hold in his sigh of relief. “Not at all. Hey, I was making some hot cocoa - you want some?”
“Yeah, that sounds great.” Bruce gestured toward the door. “If you’ll help me carry in the groceries, I can get started on dinner. How does green curry sound?”
“Not sure I’ve ever had it,” Bucky admitted, “but I’m willing to give it a try.”
“And maybe afterwards,” Bruce added with a grin, “we can get some target practice in with those Nerf guns.”