in the midnight hour I can feel your power

[notreadytocomply]

(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.)

---

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.

Comments

[notreadytocomply]

"Why don't you make 'em then, since you're the expert."

Bucky glowers at his young companion. (And anyway, so what if Bucky secretly likes it when the cats from outside come in and sleep on his chest? The great thing about cats is they don't care what a human has done in the past. They see him the same as they see everyone else -- a potential bed and personal heater.)

But Rahzel certainly has zero chill (says the pot about the kettle). He picks up the fallen comrade of a pan and sighs; now there's no telling when he'll get to sleep. Oh well, a distraction is a distraction is a distraction. At this point, he'll take anything.

He's had better nights.

"Can't we just get some chips next time?"

[witchplz]

"Aren't you the man of a thousand skills? You'd think you'd know how to cook sweets in all that time, something useful," she mutters just loud enough to be bitchy. Because, to her, murder isn't useful.

Rahzel strides right on over to take the pan from him, checks him with her hip as she passes him to....get a box of brownie mix from the meager cabinets. When did she purchase that. Did she predict this.

"No, no chips! They're too salty and you'll get pimples and when you finally, for the love of god shave that god awful thing on your face-- you'll be sorry."

[notreadytocomply]

Bucky sighs.

"Baking wasn't exactly a priority with me before, y'know."

Before and before. Even back when, he and Steve usually didn't have money to bake or cook much on their own. Food was simple especially during the Depression and the war, boiled veggies usually. Lots of potatoes. But that stuff is only a whisper of a memory right now, nothing more. He'd learned those facts from an encyclopedia at the library, and it sounded vaguely familiar.

"Anyway, quit trying to get me to shave 'cause it's not gonna happen. You never learn."

He watches her move around with a sort of curiosity. Doesn't look too tough so far. Maybe he could learn a recipe or two just to shut her up.

[witchplz]

The longer he watches, the bigger huff she's going to aim his way. Complete with a judging look, as though she's his mother in law.

"Don't just stand there-- didn't I say useful? And I don't mean just looking at your pretty face. Get the eggs out, stat!"

Rahzel can't stand the way he's just there, like a statue. Like a single breath could knock him over. Shatter him to pieces. She can't stand it, so--

"March! As in get to it, not the month of my birth. If I can't get you to shave now, I'll fill up your belly and lull you to sleep and then shave you when you're unconscious."

[notreadytocomply]

"You called me pretty." He smirks as he turns around to open the fridge. "That's an improvement."

But his eyes go blank as her words take a while to reach him. The thought -- the memory, as if he'd been watching from outside his own body -- of his captors grooming him made his throat go dry. He reached out to grab the carton of eggs with the slightest of tremors in his hand.

"Sorry. Not a heavy sleeper."

He used to be. His voice comes out tight, so he works to loosen it up. Nothing's wrong, nothing at all.

"And don't try to steal my March birthday limelight, kid."

[witchplz]

She should have known better, would have if he'd told her, if she'd asked-- that's the way of being nosy, her fear of sharing your secrets with someone in fear of being rejected....its because its a two way street she doesn't know this.

(it isn't pride but a deep, deep seated silence between the lines that holds her back from asking)

Rahzel sees the look, brows furrowed with worry.

"Pretty slick and annoying. And you'd better not break the eggs while you break them into that bowl on the counter or you'll be eating the shells!"

So gentle, this one's comforting methods. She doesn't crowd him, just crosses to the opposite side of the counter so he can see her.

That's when she perks up, entire mouth stretched wide in an eager grin.

"Your birthday is in March too?! Really, it really is? You aren't pulling my chain? That's so awesome! Uwaaaah, birthday buddies! We can have themed parties down based on your muscles."

[notreadytocomply]

Alright, so maybe Bucky could use a little practice with breaking eggs. The first one gets smashed into a gooey mess filled with eggshell shards, and the second ended up with pieces that must have sneaked in. C'mon, you can shoot a target from yards away, and can't crack a fucking egg? His frown sets in as he chides himself.

His look softens, though, when she pops over in front of him. Her enthusiasm is pretty cute, and at least it takes his mind off Things more often than not.

"Nope, not pulling anyone's chain. March the tenth."

It's something he lifted from the Washington D.C. display, something he hadn't known. Would he have been able to remember something as vital as that on his own...? It's nice, though, to find something more in common with Rahzel.

"As long as you bake the cakes, we can have whatever themed parties you want. Except surprise party. Don't think I'm ready for that yet."

No, Bucky is definitely not ready to be surprised; it would probably end in knives at this point.

[witchplz]

The egg breaking doesn't fail to catch her notice, plus she was only partly kidding about making him eat the shells. Working through it seems to be alright for him, so Rahzel will leave him to it....and really examine each brownie to make sure she has the good pieces.

One must break a few eggs to choke on your own concoctions, the saying goes.

Rahzel goes as far as to bounce to and fro, wags a spatula under his nose as she says:

"Now, now, don't be like that. We'll invite the neighborhood cats and have a contest to see who's the weakest yarn! We'll make them hats out of felt and everything." This seems like an idea she might go with, so be careful what you say, Barnes. Don't encourage her.

"Yours is the tenth? The tenth. Hmmmmm, the tenth! The ides of March! We'll have to make togas for everyone too....also, you're not getting out of a baking lesson that easy, buster."

[notreadytocomply]

A cocked eyebrow is the only response Bucky can come up with to this. Any of this. He grabs the spatula and twists it to end up bonking her on the head with it while correctly cracking an egg with the other hand.

Who says he's not a fast learner? James Buchanan Barnes is a man of many talents.

"Yeah, you just let me know how that cat in hats venture goes for ya."

He fixes the girl with a scowl.

"Not a fan of getting stabbed, ides or not. Had enough of that for a lifetime. Or two. Can't we go with something like, I dunno, St. Paddy's day?"

[witchplz]

A tiny shriek, hands fly to her head (dropping the bowl of dry ingredients onto the counter to rattle and reel and nearly tip) as she scowls right back at him.

Indignation rises within her tiny frame as she steps forward as if to grab another spoon-- so she can stomp on his foot with all of her four foot frame.

"If you aren't careful you might just get a spoon up your nose!" Speaking of, she wrinkles hers at him. "Are you trying to condone underaged drinking? I'm calling the PTO moms in the area. They'll be here in ten minutes."

[notreadytocomply]

He's on the verge of an actual laugh, really stepping close to the edge there -- but then she steps on his foot and it's all ogre now.

Well alright, so it barely hurt. It was the bite of a gnat compared to his usual injuries, not much of a casualty. But still, the rage of a fifteen-year-old girl should not be underestimated.

"Whatever. That's for saying my stubble's awful." ("Stubble" "10 o'clock shadow", what's the difference really?)

"You kidding? Who do you think does the most drinking? How else would they get through the meetings? You got a lot to learn about adults."

[witchplz]

She's going to shove this spoon up his nose, just wait for it. For now, though, she adds the wet ingredients he'd painstakingly put together to the rest of this concoction, then starts to mix, looking thoughtful.

"You look like a fortnightly washed hobo-- as in a fortnight ago," Rahzel decides. Then her expression goes a little more stern. "Underaged drinking messes with braincells and stunts growth-- it's also incredibly irresponsible. And beer tastes like white trash pee."

There will be no underage drinking in this house, thanks. As she mixes, she whips the spoon out and practically shoves it into Bucky's mouth.

"Here, try that. It'll bring some youth back to you. Hopefully"

[notreadytocomply]

"I'm not your parent, so that's on you if you wanna make shitty decisions that stunt your growth. I personally recommend waiting, though. You're short enough as is."

He barely has time to smirk before she crams the cold but tasty and chocolatey spoon between his teeth (teeth so remarkably white that he has to commend whomever groomed him during his time in captivity). Something about the familiarity of the simple chocolate batter makes him think of his mother. How she always somehow found enough chocolate to bake cakes every now and then despite rationing. She always made sure to give Steve some when he visited.

Bucky's youngest sister didn't enjoy chocolate, so she'd always slipped him her slice. As Bucky sucks on the end of the spoon, he feels something like a puzzle piece sliding into place in his mind.

Huh. This girl knows her stuff.

"Tastes okay." His mouth makes a pop as he pulls the spoon out. "For a boxed version."

[witchplz]

Once he pops the spoon out of his mouth, Rahzel taps the tip of his nose with it in warning. There's a moment where she holds her breath-- he doesn't eat sweets much, she's noted that much. So this is important.

Of course, when he's an ass about it, she screeches--

"I'm calling the Muffin Man! He's going to put you in the oven instead!"

Hair a-whirl, its time to search the cabinets again. Out comes some extra cocoa powder, which she adds to the batter. Oh, and an extra egg! Cracking it easily, she drops it right in.

"You're going to be eating those words! Literally. So much you'll be crying."

With a little hum of triumph under her breath, Rahzel now pours the mix into a pan and pops it in the oven. Makes a big deal of wiping her hands.

[notreadytocomply]

Bucky blinks, a little speechless at her playfulness. It's still not something he's quite used to again yet. Someone not looking at him in fear or apprehension...or in control. But then, he can't help but laugh.

"Not into the whole Hansel and Gretel thing. Kinda morbid, don't you think?"

He folds his arms over his broad chest.

"Where'd you learn all that anyway? Witch school?"

It's nice to have a companion who can cook or bake, at least. He could do it, but really has more important things to worry about, more that weighs on his mind.

[witchplz]

She turns her nose up at him.

"There's no such thing-- and that's also cliche as hell. On behalf of all the witches who have been made fun of for warts, apologize or get ready to cry."

But just as easily as Rahzel threatens, as easily as each breath in her tiny frame, she curls her fingers around his forearm and tugs him towards their makeshift "living room". Living in the sense of its lived in as hell, with clothes everywhere and a tiny television set.

"You don't have to be mindless to get the same exchange-- that's what television is for."

[notreadytocomply]

Bucky pulls his arm away.

"Not in the mood for tv."

The same mind-numbing shit day in and day out, she isn't kidding there. More than that, news reports he didn't want to think about.

Nah, he'd already had enough of shit he didn't want to think about for the night.

"Why don't I just take a walk, kid? I'll be back by the time the brownies are done."

[witchplz]

One hand on her hip, the other snakes around his hand again.

"I don't think so-- I am not going to be responsible if you get lost and miss out on the brownies. Lost in your head. We'll both go for a walk."

Rahzel's being bossy, she knows, she knows its selfish to not give him time to himself...but on a night, a morning like this, she just can't leave him alone.

[notreadytocomply]

It's really goddamned annoying, being tailed around - more like put on a leash - by a kid. It certainly doesn't help matters of him trying to get his head on straight, not when so much of what he's found has been so inconclusive.

Why can't she just take the hint?

"Why? Do you want to burn the apartment down? One of us has to stay, but I know that I can't."

He sighs, a little too shaky.

"Not right now, anyway."

[witchplz]

She's stubborn. Too stubborn, definitely. She just....feels wrong. Wrong for leaving him alone, even if they don't have this long talk.

"Let's go. Let's go outside."

She's tugging at him gently, mouth screwed tight into a line.

"Lets talk to the stars."

[notreadytocomply]

"What makes you think I want to talk, either?"

That's exactly why he wanted the walk. He doesn't want to think, doesn't want to talk or feel, just wants to feel the earth beneath his feet, feel the air around him. Not some stifling apartment air, even if it smells chocolatey. He's tired of talking about everything he doesn't remember. The things he doesn't but should, and the things he can't forget but desperately wants to.

"You talk to 'em. It's your specialty, anyway."

[witchplz]

Tug, tug, shove shove. Step by step, she has him steadily moving towards the door and away from the delicious smell in the oven. For someone so stubborn he hasn't knocked her away yet. Hasn't quite told her to fuck off.

Of course it won't be pretty for him if he does.

"That's fine, I will. But I sure hope you aren't calling me some sort of space cadet....and being stereotypical to witches everywhere." There's a halfway warning look on her face when she pries the door open, the cool air from outside immediately arches across her face.

[notreadytocomply]

"What, you mean you don't ride your broom in the night sky? Disappointing."

He can't resist a half-grin at that. The air brings some of him back to earth, roots him to the present (whatever it is that they're making of the present, anyway). Being out here helps the names and dates and the bitter taste of blood clear from his mind.

"Why the brownies?"

He knows, after all, that he'll never get an answer if he asks why she's here for him at all.

[witchplz]

For a moment it appears as though she's seriously considering giving him a pinch. With nails. Baby blue eyes narrow as she thinks it over. But instead, she turns her face to the wind, lets it ruffle her hair.

"Of course not-- I don't want to fly into a plane and have to lift it up to safety." Like that makes the most sense.

Why the brownies. Why, why, why. Naturally, there's something underneath the underneath there, something he longs for.

"Because--" Rahzel says, her gaze shifting, "they're part of the goodness in this world. Everyone could use 'em."

[notreadytocomply]

A likely story. Well, if she can lift a plane to safety then they've got something in common (probably...he hasn't actually ever tested this idea, but it's not out of the question).

Goodness in the world is certainly something hard to come by these days, Bucky thinks, so maybe brownies are one of those a little goes a long way kind of things. It did bring a touch of home to him...but the problem is home isn't anywhere now.

"Yeah but," he stops to find the Big Dipper; at least that hasn't changed in all these years, "I'm surprised you didn't yell more."