Clutching || Bucky Barnes

1

The front door to the apartment slammed as Basil trudged inside. He groaned and flicked the rain off his fingers. Down the hall he could hear the sounds of the tv bouncing back to him. Some action movie judging by the explosions and special effect noises. He peeled his coat from his shoulders and hung it on the rack as Queenie came running to greet him. She meowed, tail flicking as she waited expectantly. He sighed fondly and reached down to pet her grey fur before untying his boots. The heavy leather thudded as they landed on the shoe rack. He scooped Queenie up and buried his face in her fur as he shuffled down the hall.

Henry was sprawled over the sofa. It was a floral monstrosity from someone's grandma and it clashed against everything else in the room, which meant that Basil loved it. The hideous pattern actually hid how comfortable it was. You could sleep peacefully on that couch. On the tv, a man was shooting through the window of a flashy sports car during what seemed to be a very dramatic car case. Henry had a bowl of popcorn in his lap and he looked up as Basil entered. Queenie leapt from is arms and onto the arm of the sofa as Henry moved to make room for him. Basil half collapsed onto the sofa with a groan.

"Bad shift?" He remarked. The tiredness on Basil's face said it all. Henry stuffed a handful of popcorn into his mouth before offering it to Basil.

Henry was a twenty eight year old author who Basil had met through Phillip. They had been living together as friends and roommates for almost two years now. Twenty two months, ever since Basil had moved to London. He had been staying in a hotel for the first two weeks as he got his job worked out and began planning a life away from Shield and the Avengers. Phillip had introduced him to one of their cousin's children. A Henry Charlton from their father's side of the family. It happened to turn out that the man needed a roommate and together, with Basil's huge sum of money from being a howling commando and 'dying' with captain America, they had managed to afford a two bedroom flat in the basement of a London townhouse. A place where Henry could do his work and near enough to the hospital where Basil worked. It was a good arrangement.

Henry himself was a pale man with auburn hair just shy of a ginger tone. He had clear blue eyes and tended to guess in jeans and knitted jumpers. He was funny and had a sense of humour which erred on the side of wit while also sharing the cringe factor of dad jokes. Basil liked him at first because he didn't mind Queenie and didn't make a fuss about the hundred years old avenger thing. Henry had apparently grown up with Phillip as a uncle like figure in his life and had heard enough of Basil's embarrassing childhood stories to no longer be struck by hero worship. It was nice. Basil had left Steve and shield broken after the reveal of the winter solider. He had fled back to the few things that still made sense, his brother and his country. Phillip had helped pick himself up and Henry had arrived, treating like he was already a friend, like he had known him all his life and helped him find his feet again. It was really more than Basil could have ever hoped for really.

"Terrible shift", Basil grumbled. On the screen, a woman swore pulled a knife from somewhere in the skintight dress and was slashing at someone. "No! That's not how you hold a knife love!" He called to her. "You're going to cut yourself doing that". In the last year surrounded but his countrymen, his accent had grown thicker. Years in modern America had dulled it a tad.

Henry chuckled as they watched the screen flash. Queenie had curled up in the space between them and Basil was stroking her absentmindedly. Her purring a rumble under the tv noise. "Why are you watching films at five in the morning?" He spoke up after a minute.

"Couldn't sleep", Henry shrugged. This wasn't uncommon. Basil didn't know what Henry had gone through during his life but he did know that Phillip and him were some of the only family he had left. Whatever trauma he had experienced often left him with nightmares and insomnia. Yet another reason why they were good roommates. Basil had his fair share of ptsd and nightmares too.

"So what was so bad about this shift?"

Basil sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. His job, a proper job. Not whatever being a avenger had been. (Was that a job? He hadn't technically been paid for it, but shield did cover his living expenses and anything he wanted. It was a confusing situation). His job, something he had managed to keep up for seven months now, was as a paramedic. At first he had wanted to be a doctor but he didn't have the patience for appointments. His skills were in trauma and firsthand injuries. So being a paramedic, sometimes the first on the scene, was right up his alley.

"Five calls last night from stupid people who don't understand that the 999 call is for emergencies only. Not because you've cut your hand. Just go and get stitches at our A&E department. You don't need a ambulance for that. Also, Morris was being a dick head today. If he said one more homophobic thing then I'm going to punch him".

Henry hummed in understanding. He, himself, was proudly pan. "Sounds tough".

"Yeah. He's a dick. I've already filed for a change", Basil sighed. He ran his hands over his face in exhaustion. The night finally hitting him. It was stupid o'clock in the morning and he felt icky with dried sweat and probably stunk of sick people. He yawned loudly and slid off the sofa. Queenie made a disgruntled noise at being displaced and immediately stood to go and sit in the warm spot he had left. "I'm going to bed", he muttered. Henry nodded, eyes fixed back on the screen. Basil slouched out of the living room down the hall to his bedroom. The motions of showering and getting ready for bed a muscle memory. Soon he collapsed into his sheets and allowed sleep to welcome him.

The solider lowered the bazooka and looked at him. Basil stopped. They were standing five feet apart. The other hydra agents were firing at Nat and same. Some were firing at him but they had guessed that all that would do was waste bullets. The solider was looking at him as Basil unsheathed another knife. "You're trying to kill me", He said calmly. "You're trying to kill my friends. As you can see", he spread his arms out. "I'm very hard to kill". The soldier said something in Russian.

"не возможно".

The eyes were an icy blue. With dark eyebrows and eyelashes. Something tugged at him. Basil frowned. "Do I know you?" He took a step closer. Body turning solid again as he stared at those eyes in surprise. For a second the solider did not react. The two watching each other. Around them gunfire echoed. But the icy blue yes were looking down. Basil followed his gaze but the eyes were fixed on his tattoo. His sun and bird tattoo on full display.

"I know you", Basil took another step forward. The words a whisper. Something was pulling at him. Those eyes. It was on the tip of his tongue. Then the soldier looked up and the eyes met his. Basil froze, eyes wide as the soldier pulled a gun from his belt and pointed it at him. He fired. The shot went right through Basil's chest. Through the breast pocket of his shirt. He looked down and watched the blood bloom out around the bullet. It didn't go through him this time.

His chest a empty hole. His heart ripped out, leaving nothing but a hollow chest cavity. Bloodied and cold. When he looked up at the Soldier again, his mask was missing. Bucky stood in front of him. The gun lowered and the face impassive as he watched Basil collapse. Warm blood pooled around him as he bled out slowly. Bucky watching without love, without recognition in his eyes. Just cold, unfeeling interest. A soldier watching as his mission ended. Basil unable to do anything but bleed out as his lover raised the gun again.

He woke with a gasp. Heart thudding in his chest snd tear tracks on his cheeks. His room was shadowed but the glimpses of light spewing out from behind the curtains hinted at midday. The duvet fell off him as he rolled out of bed. Part of his mind noted that this time he had not fallen through the bed. Improvement. That was why they lived in a basement apartment. No lower floors for Basil to fall through during nightmares. His pyjamas were sweaty and he pulled a face at the feeling as he reached for his phone. When he held it up, his blood froze.

Unedited

What do you think of the beginning of book three?