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]

Bucky's been around enough women to be able to take a hint. But laundry is on the lowest of his priorities list, though he has noticed a slight funky smell to them lately. Alright, so maybe she has a point.

Friends...something he hasn't had in over seventy years...it's a strange feeling. Why would she want to be his friend when they hardly know one another? He was once a popular guy, but now he wants to avoid any kind of limelight. He left that person -- those people -- behind long ago.

But still the man on the bridge, the piercing blue eyes...they nag at him daily.

"If we're friends, does that mean curling each other's hair?"

[witchplz]

She has a laundry basket under one arm and a magazine in the other, so Rahzel is on a mission...as per usual. The smell was totally getting to her, alright, its that man smell! Do they think it's flattering and hot? Do they really believe the axe body spray crap? They need a wake up call.

The question yanks her out of her thoughts and she beams.

"Hell yeah! You want me to? Because I'd totally trust you with my beautimous locks just...not just yet. Do you want a french braid or something more chic?"

she is the reason for his shorter hair in CW whoa fuckin debunked

[notreadytocomply]

"I don't -- that's not what I --"

Hygiene isn't totally lost on Bucky, he's had to make do through some pretty rough times in war but it's hard to remember what it was like to have someone care about it.

And there's no way she's serious about the hair. But then he thinks for a second--

She's totally serious about the hair.

"Whatever. I doubt there's enough for a french braid. You already made me cut some." He grumbles.

YES!! I ACCEPT THIS WHOLEHEARTEDLY

[witchplz]

The fact that he's that he's given in means he's defeated. And that means Rahzel has won, as usual. Beaming, she drops both basket and magazine and points:

"Go sit on the couch! Don't move an inch, I'll know."

Then speeds off to the bathroom for everything she'll need. It won't take her long to return, so Bucky had better move it.

=u=

[notreadytocomply]

Bucky sighs a sigh from his very soul.

"Only if I get another brownie," he shuffles off as he grabs his third treat.

He makes a face at her retreating figure, but a soft kind of smile slides into place over it. He wonders if she would be so chipper if she knew how many and just the kind of people were after him, the amount of bounty on his head.

[witchplz]

She comes back beaming just as wide as before, now a bag of carefully collected hair products and clips and things clutched in a see-through bag. Also a flat iron. Nice.

"Ready, ready?" Could she get any more excited? Without waiting for an answer, Rahzel finds an outlet for the iron (had she planned this...??) and pops it in. In the meantime, she plops beside him on the couch and gently cards her fingers through his hair.

[notreadytocomply]

His stomach twists as he takes in all the hair products in the bag. Things have quadrupled that much since the forties? Why and how?

"No, no I'm not. And I don't even trust you with that."

He gestures toward the flat iron.

"What is it? Are you going to burn my hair off?"

But then he sighs when she begins combing through his hair with her hands. It's a surefire way to make someone sleepy, and he can't say it isn't working a little. The storm inside his head is still too heavy and thick, but he feels better, even if vulnerable.

All at the hands of a fifteen-year-old! What has he turned into?

[witchplz]

"Then why are you sitting here, lead butt?"

Rahzel rolls her eyes skyward but is already separating the soft locks into sections, comb in hand.

"This isn't for burning, it's for straightening." This barbarian. They didn't even have that back in the day? She bets they didn't even have bath jellies...the travesty!

...Then again a little burning will probably happen. Comes with the territory.

[notreadytocomply]

"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.

[witchplz]

"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.

[notreadytocomply]

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.

[witchplz]

"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.

[notreadytocomply]

"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."

[witchplz]

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."

[notreadytocomply]

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."

[witchplz]

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."

[notreadytocomply]

"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.

[witchplz]

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."

[notreadytocomply]

"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?"

[witchplz]

"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."

[notreadytocomply]

"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?"

[witchplz]

"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."

he gon get rekt

[notreadytocomply]

"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."

all day erry day

[witchplz]

"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."

luv it

[notreadytocomply]

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?"