antisocialworkaholics

[antisocialworkaholics]

Anything posted here is just to keep all the old stuff together in the archive.

[antisocialworkaholics]

Rus gives him a chance, a few precious seconds of his time to simply stand there and wait for an answer. When he gets nothing, the mask of kindness he had put on to torment him is torn away, replaced by the smirk that had been there before.

"Since you don't want any, I guess I'll eat it." The piece of bacon is popped into his mouth as he speaks. The mutt's silence going unpunished this time in favor of turning his attention back to the food he had left to prepare. Quickly finishing up what he needed to do for the fries so he could get them seasoned and slid into the oven to bake. The bacon that was still sizzling in the pan is flipped again to make sure it's thoroughly cooked on both sides before joining the rest of the pieces on the cooling plate.

Enough buns for at least two burgers each are toasted while meat patties are mashed out and placed on a fresh pan to start cooking while he's waiting on everything else. Pointedly ignoring their pet the whole time he's working so he can get everything and ready by the time Ana walks through the door.

Dirt streaks the walls like unfinished paint, stains from desperate hands. Spider-web cracks circle the point that chain meets surface, caused by fingers prying at plaster even as the pads blistered and wept. Bucky’d known that the links would be embedded metres deep – but it felt like enough to try. A spark of defiance. Eyes trace the fractures now, instinct itching to create new as fear nudges his palms away.

This fear is always so subtle. No adrenaline surges slick though his veins, no vices suffocate the bags of his lungs. There’s no way to detect it. Not until retorts are choked back, still lodged against his cords, or aborted movements save Bucky from the thrill of electricity through his bones. Crouched against gunfire with mud sucking at his soles, Bucky could swallow the heave of terror. It had been tangible, in each soldier’s goddamn blood and sweat, but at least it could be riddled with bullets and left to wither on the battlefield.

Rus – Bruce’s – voice lifts him from the depths of memory and Bucky twitches. His gaze doesn’t shift from its course, not self-destructive enough to stare at the gift that won’t be given. Kindness is as much a cruelty as torture here. Shallow sweetness saves way to the pit waiting to drag him under. There’s no answer.

[antisocialworkaholics]

any replies posted here are strictly to keep everything together in the archive.

[antisocialworkaholics]

"So it's a hereditary trait, that's good to know." Despite what Tony had to say about him, the things he had read and the way Steve talked about him made him think Howard wasn't nearly as bad as his son tried to make him out to be. Even if he did carry a certain level of understanding for the bitterness. "Thank you. It's nice to know at least one person on the team doesn't keep me around for the paperwork." He couldn't help but laugh a little though, because Steve was right. "Yeah, there's nothing normal about any of us, or the team of people that thought it'd be a good idea to take on Tony's accounting." 

The next thing to come from him is a sigh when the reminder of all the things that are missing hits him. "I'll admit that I've thought about it a few times, but teaching the thieves a lesson isn't worth that kind of destruction." Even though it didn't seem like it, to him just brushing the incidents off and finding what was taken when he could was a much easier route to take. "I'll print out a list of the stuff that was stolen so you'll have something to keep with you, unless you'd rather have me to email it to your phone." 

"You should’ve met his dad. Different times, but same mindset. It was always a big show, and always had to be more impressive than anyone else," he sighed, shrugging. Tony was more like his dad than he probably wanted to think about, but they had their redeeming qualities too. "Well if it helps, you’re more than a secretary to me. I mean, help with reports is great and all, but I like having some normal people around. Not that any of us are really that normal," he joked, trying to lighten the mood. "He must have a team on it, cause I think you’re right - the stress from doing that paperwork could kill a lesser man."

"Aren’t they worried that you’ll.. you know. Smash something?" he asked, a little concerned. He knew Bruce had it fairly under control, but one push in the wrong direction, and things could come down hard. "I’ll see what I can do, man. Seriously. It’s the least I can do," he smiled, glad he could be of service to his teammate. "Do you have anything you can share?"

[antisocialworkaholics]

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