Clutching || Bucky Barnes

3

(Two years earlier)

The solider, Bucky? That seemed more right now. With the memories of his life back in his head. Bucky Barnes knelt on the grey roof with his hood pulled down over his long hair and a baseball cap shielding his face. Around him the bustle of London roared. Cabs, cyclists, pedestrians all making noise as they went about their lives. He could hear sirens in the distance and the thrum of general noise that all added up to make the hubbub of city life. The wind was strong that day, tugging on his hoodie and coat as it blew smog around. The sky above grey in usual English tones, threatening rain or a light drizzle.

Bucky Barnes (he was still getting used to that name. It was familiar yet unfitting like a badly cut suit. The soldier was too bulky to shove under that coat. It jutted around in sharp edges and tense blackness) peered down onto the street below. The expensive binoculars, scoped and designed for military use, narrowed in on the small slip of window visible to the basement apartment. From that angle he could see part of a floral sofa and a faded carpet. From where he was peering, he could see the shadow of moving boxes and the curled up form of a grey cat on the sofa cushions. It looked like someone was moving in. A person came into view, make that two someones.

A young man, maybe late twenties, reached over the back of the sofa to stroke the cat. He was lean in a way that instantly told Bucky that he had no fight training. There was no weight in his step that told of combat, no heaviness on his shoulders. Instead the man was simple, almost irritatingly normal looking. Auburn, almost ginger hair and pale skin all in a knitted jumper and jeans. Simple, easy. Bucky watched as the man turned, back to the window to say something to a person out of view. There was a pause then a nod as he listened to whoever was replying. The man stroked the cat again before standing straight and walking out of view.

Bucky lowered the binoculars with a sigh. His head still hurt, a dull persistent ache that had been following him ever since dc. It had ebbed and flowed in horrible waves in the months since as each new memory rose. The captain America exhibit had helped to bring a lot of it back. His time in the army. Basil. But since then other memories had returned. His parents, sisters, childhood. Steve as a small boy laughing at a joke. The gaps were slowly being filled in and as each one became clear, it only emphasised how many more gaps were left. Unfortunately along with his life as Bucky Barnes, memories of his life as the soldier also came back. Memories that would leave him muffling his own screams into his fist as he shook. It all hurt. Too much, too much.

Down below in the apartment, there was another movement. He raised the binoculars back up just into me to see the person he had been waiting for. Basil was placing things on the windowsill. At that moment it seemed like the English clouds had parted and brought light onto his face. His skin was golden again, a relief compared to the pale from blood loss and pain that Bucky had last seen him wearing. Green eyes (he couldn't see them from this distance but Bucky knew that they were as green as clear jade) were set on the plant pot he was carrying. He set it on the window still, arms flexing under his ratty red tshirt. Basil frowned at it then began to turn it until he was satisfied. One hand coming up to brush his now floppy curls out of his face. His hair was longer than Bucky had ever seen it. A good few inches of curls that his military hair cuts before had only hinted at. Dark brown curls on golden skin.

Basil placed a few more things next to the plant pot. Large crystals, books, movie cases. They were all arranged according to whatever seemed to be going on in his mind. Bucky almost smiled at it. The sight brining up familiar memories of a younger Basil packing his medical kit. Never in the same order but always in a way that only seemed to make sense to him. Once Bucky had offered to help and Basil had smacked his hand away. ("Ah ah Sarge. Keep your hands out of my stuff". A teasing smile. "Possessive much Parrish?" The smile doubling and paired with a wink. "Possessive? Me? Extremely. Fair warning".)

Through the layers glass, Bucky watched as Basil began swaying to a beat. His hands abandoning his task as he got distracted by the music. The man turned sharply and disappeared out of sight for a few seconds before reappearing. He must have turned his music up as Bucky, with his enhanced senses, could begin to hear the beats of something. A whistle and a repetitive drum. Basil reappeared again. He was dancing. Body twisting in moves that had obviously been adapted from jive. Bucky couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. Basil wasn't great, which was surprising. He was a okay dancer with some rhythm but not impressive. He danced with more feeling than actual talent. Bucky found that he liked that more. He had not seen Basil dance much before, not like this. They hadn't had the chance. ("Will you take me out dancing Sarge?")

Down below in his new apartment, Basil scooped up the cat from the sofa and was swaying around the room with her in his arms. The cat stared at him for a few seconds before Basil set her down with a laugh. The cat promptly stalked away back to the sofa where it curled up again. Basil watched her with a grin before resuming dancing again. This time the moves were more flailing of limbs and shaking hips. His baggy jeans only holding on due to the belt and his socked feet (bright yellow socks with the words 'fuk off' across the soul that made Bucky snort) kicking. As the song ended and another started up, the roommate reappeared. He grinned at Basil, arms crossed as he spoke. Basil flicked him the middle finger and they both laughed.

Bucky sighed and lowered his binoculars. He tucked them into a pocket and slowly stood up from his kneeling position. The chill in the air had made him stiff and he rolled his shoulders a bit as he turned his back to the warm apartment below. Boots began trudging towards the door to the ground and he felt himself smile slightly. Basil was okay. He was alive and he was safe. The soldier hadn't killed him and he seemed happy. He was safe and alive and that was all that mattered to Bucky Barnes. Basil Parrish was okay. Maybe when the hydra shit was out of his head, Bucky could talk to him again. Until then, he would be content with the knowledge that Basilton Parrish was doing fine.

In the living room down below, Basil glanced out of the window mid-dance. He paused, eyes hitting a shadow on the roof on the opposite street. For a second his training caught in. Threat? Then the shadow was gone and his feet were catching a box. He turned back to Henry with question on where he wanted his records to be kept. The shadow on the roof gone from his mind.

Unedited

Hi all. I'm not dead. Uni is just confusing.