kyouyasangels_inc | in the midnight hour I can feel your power

in the midnight hour I can feel your power

(Prompt: 02 • HUNGER. Your stomach is growling and it just won't stop. Or perhaps your throat is so dry you could cough up a tumbleweed? Well, you've gone to the kitchen to remedy this and hey, that was a pan that just dropped on the floor. It was loud enough to wake the dead! Oops.)

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If Bucky were being honest with himself, the reason he's still awake would be the memories come to gather at the window of his mind in dark, foggy silhouettes against a backdrop of screams. Luckily he's lying to himself and blaming his rumbling stomach -- which is true, but not the real reason for the season.

Sleeping never comes easily for him when not induced behind glass sparkling with cryogenic mist, and tonight is no exception.

So Bucky shuffles off to the kitchen at 2:14 a.m. in pursuit of a midnight snack. The shitty apartment is eerily quiet, no sirens in the distance for once. For a moment it feels too out of place, as if Bucky were looking at the scene from afar--

But then he comes back to himself just as his hip bumps the handle of a pan sitting on the edge of the sink -- of all places, why couldn't the culprit (Bucky) just put it two inches farther into the sink? -- and

CLANG!

Bucky sets his jaw, ready for the inevitable oncoming reaction waiting to burst through the door in a flurry of fifteen-year-old spunk.

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"Excuse you, I've never gotten shot in my ass. No lead there."

He tents up his knees, elbows resting on them, and leans back.

"No, we didn't have that. Gals used irons, like for clothes."

He doesn't fully trust her not to burn him, but she seems careful and knowing of what she's doing. So maybe this won't be so hard after all. Again, he finds a genuine smile crawling its way across his face.

"Maybe your buttcheeks are just heavy."

It's possible. You have to believe Hydra would try anything once. Inflated lead buttcheeks-- the rest of us know those cheeks are natural, however.

Gals. That's kind of adorable, when a little of his olderspeak slips through, those habits. Sure, if he called her doll in a condescending way she'd probably throw him through a wall but...

Now to start separating the hair by clips! He's going to have a whole head of the things in a minute.

He rolls his eyes. Natural indeed.

"Why is a minor talking about my ass? Weren't you all preachy about being underage earlier?"

As she works, his mind drifts back, back to the house of his childhood. Something that feels like a faded photo from the time period, stained by time and electroshock brainwashing.

"My sisters did pin curls. I never could understand how they were able to sleep on them. I'm not gonna have to deal with that, right?"

Since, Bucky had gotten quite the lesson in finding ways to sleep that were less than ideal and less than pain-free. He picks up the magazine and starts flipping through aimlessly. She makes it seem so effortless, acting as though it isn't totally weird for them to be up at whatever-the-hell o'clock.

"Once again, as a man, you completely miss the point. And also, old fashioned stereotype much? As if boys are the ones who should be allowed to talk about backsides!"

Huffing, she gently whaps him on the crown of his head with the brush. Then, deeming the iron hot enough, she takes it to his hair and slowly, slowly lets the heat work its magic.

"Pin curls...can't say I've down those in awhile. And no, we won't do anything like that yet."

Cue an evil cackle here.

"Then o, wise one, tell me the point." Then, with the fastest change of subject ever known to man but for good reason--

"Damn kid, these really are great."

He stuffs his mouth full of another brownie. When was the last time someone gave Bucky a brownie? That's a mystery lost to time itself. He swats away the brush.

"Yet? How about never? This is a one-time only offer here."

Rahzel's at a full-on preen, watch out now. "Of course they are! I made them, after all. It has love in it."

The hair's tamed just like that! Well, it takes a couple of passes with the iron, but it's cooperative enough. Now for the next section, which she lets loose, brown locks swept around his face.

"And the point is-- I was making an observation. For aesthetic purposes. That's all."

Someone pouring love into something as simple as brownies. Now that's a feeling he remembers, tugs at his heart. If he tries hard enough, he can almost envision the old kitchen, almost his mother's face.

Bucky touches his hair, knowing he's probably about to be reprimanded for such an action, and is surprised when it feels soft to the touch.

"Mm-hmm, aesthetic. Sounds fake but okay. At least someone's appreciating it, I guess."

Edited 2016-06-07 15:52 (UTC)

She tames a stray tangle a little more firmly and huffs at him in response.

"Hey now, I'm the one with the iron. You've got to listen to me."

But, Rahzel's voice sounds as soft as the look on her face as his hair is finally tamed, soft and luxurious beneath her fingers.

"You have such lovely hair."

"Ow! Whatever. I'll listen to you, for now at least."

He almost can't believe someone is being so nice to him. Despite his outbursts, the nightmares, despite the Really Bad Times -- she stays. Why would someone? To convince him that he's deserving of life he's been given again for some reason? Maybe it really is about not being alone.

In that case, he's glad she has him too -- but wishes for her sake that he were someone less dangerous.

"You're not the first girl to tell me that."

A boyish grin pulls at his features and he tilts his head back to look at her upside-down. The moment is nice, Bucky feels safe for the first time in so long.

Next section, next one, next. Her hands make quick work of the tangles, way more gentle now.

"Atta boy! That's the first step to a woman's heart, did those other girls tell you that too."

She leans forward to softly nudge her forehead into his, then continues.

"Getting cute."

"If that's true, then from whatever you're doing to me, I'm sure all the ladies will be knocking down the door."

He drops his gaze back to the television in front of him, cheeks red from the forehead bump. How strange to be with someone else and still feel lonely. But she lessens that even as much as she can.

"What kind of cute are we talking?"

Edited 2016-06-08 04:26 (UTC)

"Oh? You mean Sabine from down the road? I'm sure she'd appreciate a foot rub."

God, wouldn't that be the day. Maybe if she keeps bringing out the dinners...meat loaf and pasta and seafood!

"The kind that's good, and kind, and true. The kind that doesn't give up, not even when it's crawling around."

"Hell no. I'd have to sanitize myself afterward..."

He begins flipping through the channels aimlessly, eyes unfocused.

"Can't tell you the last time that I've been true to myself. I always took it for granted before, but...I don't want to be what they want me to be."

He rubs his eyes, sighs.

"I'm still working on good. Least my Brooklyn manners held up, huh?"

"Better get yourself ready to be beached...! Like a giant endangered squid who hasn't seen the light of day for thousands of years."

Taking a comb, she parts his hair and starts on the last few sections to begin. Tok, tok goes the flat iron. Baby blues hardly pay attention to whatever channel he decides, attention too focused on the hair before her.

"That's what those are? Huh. Since I'm not from here, I wouldn't know."

"Feels that way sometimes."

His voice is soft, his fingers trace random shapes in the dingy carpet. He laughs and glances over his shoulder at her.

"Don't know if you woulda been able to handle it back in the day." He can't help the confidence out of his voice. "Pretty rough characters around. A doll like you would be small potatoes."

"Handle...brownies? Or stupid boys who think I want to hear their bs."

She side eyes him, turns his head by a gentle hand to the chin so she can do the next side of his head.

"All I need to do is blast them into the future and it'd be fine. I can handle myself. I won't let anyone, the past or otherwise, control me. I'm mine."

His eyes close, he lets himself fall into the sound of her voice and tug on his hair.

What she says, she gets it, and he wishes he could have her confidence -- he can almost guarantee he'd be able to control himself, but she...

"You're wise for a kid, you know that?"

She's almost done, is actually done with the flat iron right about now. Rahzel lays it off to the side and switches it off. Now...what kind of style. She wonders for a moment, and then its as though a lightbulb goes off. Nimble fingers begin to twist brown strands.

"For a kid? I'll have you know that just because I'm young doesn't mean my knowledge or experience is anything other because I'm not an adult." A pause. "But thanks, I know."

"I know that," Bucky turns as much as he can to look at her, blue eyes searching out blue. "But that doesn't mean others do."

He knows she's Seen Some Shit, must have in order to want to be around him. He wants to ask, but can't tell if she'd rather not. Just as he can't tell if he'd rather have someone ask or not.

Why ask when he doesn't know what to say, what to tell them?

Her eyes find him and for the first time in who knows when, Rahzel stops. Stops moving, talking, forever moving, never sitting still, always Doing something-- (always to feel useful)

She smiles gently.

"That's true. And that's why I'll prove it to them. Anyone who doubts me. I'll make them eat dirt."

There goes that genuine smile again, and he elbows her. So...even if they control him, as long as he owns himself, nobody can truly control him.

Even if they make him do the things they will inevitably...but he wants to be so much better than that.

"I wanna watch when you kick their ass. Might be able to learn something from ya."

She offers him a wink and braids the last strands of hair together at the ends; its just a simple messy little ponytail. It's nothing much. Next time she'll pin it up, if she can get a hold of him.

"I might have to charge you-- at discounted price, of course."

"Only if it's discounted. I don't have a lotta money. For some reason, someone keeps sending me out on pointless errands."

He knows it's a way to keep his mind on something, and it helps some.

"She's real demanding, this someone of mine."

Edited 2016-06-12 02:26 (UTC)

One dainty huff later, she's grabbed a mirror to show him. Rahzel offers it to him.

"Well this wonderful, beautiful and kick ass young lady must send you of because you keep forgetting things on the list. Not to mention all the crappy bran cereal you insist on getting."

He laughs, truly carefree, at his image of beauty. She's talented, it's a cute 'do, for sure. How Steve would've laughed and never let him live it down --

The thought startles him and he puts the mirror down but with a wide grin.

"Look, I'm getting better with remembering." Or he's just got a very selective memory. "Whatever. Fiber's good for you. Just load it down with brown sugar, that's the secret."

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he gon get rekt

all day erry day

luv it

>3<

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