I stared at @zhaana‘s CA:CW art for like five hours and then I wrote a thing. We all have to get our Civil War “what if” drabbles out before May, right?
The first time Bucky sets eyes on Steve after DC—after he remembers, really remembers—he thinks he’s been shot.
To his credit, there’s been gunfire popping off in the distance for the past hour or so, the ricocheting of bullets and staccato machine gun rat-a-tat inching closer and closer, trailing inevitable echoes: panicked shouts, blaring car horns, crying children, heavy, ominous silences. The sounds of battle never frightened the Winter Soldier, but they set Bucky on edge—these days, he has something to stay alive for. Something to lose.
That something kicks down the door and startles Bucky out of his defensive crouch in the corner. He springs to his feet, knife in hand, teeth bared, and Steve Rogers blinks at him from the hallway, covered in dust and blood, hair sweaty and standing every-which-way, and Bucky looks from Steve’s face to the door Steve busted off its hinges to the trusty shield strapped to Steve’s back and clutches at his chest.