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

[witchplz]

It isn't certain whether or not her dreams were of something pleasant, but rest assured there were muscles involved, and Rahzel had a six pack of them. Good or bad dreams dissipate all the same with the sound of an intruder, forcing her to jacknife up in bed, energy on her fingertips.

Instead of waiting a few seconds to see if its just another stray cat that's come in through the open window (for someone so paranoid about pursuit, Bucky certainly doesn't worry about felines....), the teen vaults up and launches herself out of her door.

"YOU'VE GOT THREE SECONDS TO PUT DOWN THE GOODS BEFORE I TURN YOUR BUTTHOLE INSIDE OUT! If you don't comply, it'll make a hideous hat."

When noone speaks in a foreign tongue to surrender, to stay back, anything, Rahzel peers steadily into Bucky's grimacing face, sighs.

"That's not how you make brownies. I'm going to throw you out the window." Adrenaline spikes high in her chest as she sighs again and lowers her hands.

[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?"