Hi everyone! =D
So this was my attempt at a Stucky fic after one of my best friends asked me to make one!
*waves* Hi Jianna!
So I guess you guys have her to thank for this! I hope you guys enjoy it!
(Oh right, disclaimer! So yeah I own nothing except George and I'm really fine with that because George is a cutie pie XD)
The Nazis weren't very smart, Sergeant George Mallory drunkenly mused, as he took yet another drag from his nub of a cigarette. For all their strategies and intelligence and spies and cyanide, those bloody little Germans had yet to realize that it was not the cities or buildings which were landmarks of great importance, but rather the pubs.
Ah yes… the pub. With it's poor lighting, run down floorboards, and apparently unlimited supply of all things alcohol. The sound of unreasonably loud music, the clinking of pool balls, drunken laughter, and the definitive sound of a couple "discreetly" snogging in corner, all came together to form this beautifully chaotic symphony. And of course there was the myriad of smells. Where else would you find a place that reeked of beer-breath, sweat, spilled drinks, and vomit?
Many a person would be absolutely repulsed by an establishment such a this - but it had found its audience amongst the soldiers. You see, after witnessing so much destruction and ruin, the men in uniform did not care about acrid scent or the ear-splitting noise. None of these things mattered, because after seeing so much death, a place which practically oozed of life was one of the only things that could ground them to the now.
Destroy the pub, you destroy the spirit. That was how it worked - to Mallory anyway.
As he downed the last of his drink, he took a glance at the empty stool beside him. His heart clenched involuntarily. It always did that these days, after what happened to… um…
…he needed another beer.
"Another beer here," he called out to the bartender.
"Make that two."
His head shot up at the new voice. He saw a man - about one or two years his senior, really - take a seat on the previously empty chair. He didn't seem to be with anyone else as well.
The countertop had always been a welcoming place for the lonely.
"Hi," the stranger greeted with a smile, and offered his hand. "Name's James Buchanan Barnes. Everyone here calls me Bucky."
"George Peter Mallory," he replied, as he took the proffered hand with a tired grin of his own. "I don't think I've got anything shorter for that."
The bartender came and placed their pints in front of them, which they both took with a quiet "thanks".
After taking a sip of his drink, George came to a sudden realization.
"Wait, did you say Barnes? As in, Howling Commando Barnes?"
"Yeah," Bucky laughed, honestly a bit embarrassed at the recognition. It was Steve who did all the work, really.
"Well what are ya doing out here on your own? I mean, shouldn't you be with Captain America or something? I'm hardly better company."
"Yeah, well, I was having drinks with him and Peggy Carter, over there-" he gestured to the table the two sat at with his glass, spilling a bit of the drink. "-but you get tired of the goo-goo eyes after a while."
"Goo-goo eyes?" George inquired. "Him and Miss Carter? Are they..."
Bucky simply shrugged in response.
Silence reigned for a few moments, and the two men took a long swig of their drinks.
"I gotta say," the younger of the two continued, wiping the foam from his lips. "I never would've guessed it. I mean, Captain Rogers and Miss Carter? They're both so…"
He fell silent, noticing something rather odd. Bucky had fallen silent all of a sudden - doing nothing more than nursing the drink in his hand.
Huh. Was it something he said? Come to think of it, he got quieter and quieter at the mention of Steve and...
Oh.
Oh.
"Oh, I see…" George said with a knowing smirk. His tone of understanding made Bucky look up with a bit of… apprehension?
"What?" the older of the two asked.
"You like 'im," Mallory stated plainly.
"Him? What makes you think that? I mean I could have feelings for Miss Carter."
George smirked at the confirmation of his theory.
"Eh… you don't seem the type."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
He took another drink before replying.
"Let's just say we have more things in common than I originally thought," he smirked at Bucky when the realization finally dawned on the older man, and he leaned in close to whisper to his ear. "Don't worry. I know they call it a crime. I won't say."
Bucky nodded gratefully, and they returned to their drinks.
"So who's yours?" Bucky asked, genuinely curious to know. What he did not expect was his newfound friend's face to fall at the innocent question.
"…There's a reason I'm alone tonight too, you know."
Bucky wanted to hit himself. I mean he really had no way of knowing but still.
"Oh. I mean, is he…?"
"Dead? Yeah, pretty sure. Those tears would've been a waste if he wasn't," George replied bitterly, and downed nearly half of his drink in one swing. He then turned to Bucky with a sort of sadness in his eyes. "That's how I found out so quickly. I was the same way when I saw Charlie with someone else. I mean, I never got to tell him before he... you know."
A somber silence.
"...You know I really hate this stupid war," George whispered as he downed the last of his beer.
Bucky raised his glass.
"I'll drink to that."
I hope you guys enjoyed it!
If you did, please tell me! It would really mean a whole lot and I will huggle you for eternity! If not, please tell me what you thought anyway so I can improve it (but please say it in the nicest way you can)!
I'm not sure when the next chapter will be out, but hopefully soon!
See you guys and keep being amazing!
-RW =)