queerbucky:

weinersoldier:

i’m having so many feelings about the pub scene in tfa

like

Steve there, in his service uniform, Class A’s buttoned up and medals shining and hair slicked back, and Bucky?

Bucky looks like hell.

Bucky didn’t even fucking try.  His tie is loose, and his shirt is only half tucked-in, and he looks mussed and wrinkled and the circles under his eyes look like bruises and when he tries to smile for Steve it looks like he’s trying not to bare his teeth, because he is in pain.  His face is shining with sweat, his voice is unsteady, he clings to his glass and he’s drinking whiskey while the rest of the men drink beer, drinking to forget and not just to have a good time.

He looks so haunted, his jokes don’t land and his eyes linger too long on Peggy and where the hell did he wake up?  What world is this where the prettiest dame in the bar doesn’t spare him a second glance?

Nothing makes sense.  Nothing seems real.

(Just how far did Zola get inside his head, in Austria?  Maybe Bucky was already afraid of how fragile his reality is, maybe that dream he always had where Steve’s outsides finally looks like the man Steve is inside just followed Bucky over the ocean, and this time, he doesn’t want to wake up.)

(Please, don’t make me wake up.)

#and then when he falls does he have that dream again? the one where his stomach drops out at the top of the Cyclone’s incline #and his senses fill with the rush of wind and the air slaps his face and Steve’s laugh echoes and everything is blue blue blue #so when Zola greets him again #he knows the dreams are finally over #the thing he’s been afraid o f#the thing he’s been dreading #none of it was real #(nothing is real)