Bucky was angry at Steve, angry at the Commandos, angry at the army in total. It was one tiny little gun shot wound. And sure, his shoulder hurt like a son of a gun, and yeah, he was a sniper, but he could handle it!
But no.
Instead, he got shipped back to the U.S. to heal up. Dammit. He was going to get right back out there as soon as the stupid doctors cleared him, but he hated leaving Steve out there all the same.
Still, he was glad to be in New York again. He got to see some dames before he went back out and, it was probably good that he was back, because he didn't see anyone capable of handling the insane guy that just popped out of the alley in front of him with a gun.
"Hey...what's buzzin', cousin?" Bucky offered, holding his hands up placatingly as he approached. Crazy Eyes turned his gaze to him, gun twitching in his hand.
"What?"
"What's going on buddy?" Bucky repeated, and the man blinked, seemingly more confused.
"Where-when am I?" he questioned, moving the gun around for emphasis. Didn't even seem to realize he was doing it, but Bucky certainly did.
"Come on pal. How about you put the gat away and I'll help you however I can?" Bucky offered, eyes wide and earnest. The man looked even more confused, but seemed to follow Bucky's gaze and land on the gun.
Glancing around again, Crazy Eyes slipped the gun behind his back, putting it in the waistband of his pants. Bucky relaxed slightly. As the man held up a badge, Bucky moved forward, raising an eyebrow.
"Uh...who are you? Because last time I checked, it's 1944..." he mused, and Crazy Eyes stared at him, slowly pulling the obviously fake FBI badge back.
"Wait...what?!" Bucky glanced around, nothing the attention they were getting. He really didn't want to handle the cops right now. Sure, Crazy Eyes seemed a bit...well, crazy, but pretty harmless...in spite of the gun. He seemed more confused then out for blood...
"Look, how about I buy you some hooch and you can ask me whatever you want, yeah?" Bucky offered.
Crazy Eyes' eyebrows shot up, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, I don't think getting a hooker would solve anything."
"Hooker?!" Bucky sputtered, and Crazy Eyes nodded, watching him warily.
"Like, hoochie, right?" he asked slowly and Bucky was even more confused.
"No! What the hell is a hoochie and what does it have to do with a prostitute!? I'm talking about whiskey!" he objected.
"Oh! Well then, yeah, sure..." Crazy Eyes muttered, rubbing his forehead. Bucky shook his head.
"Yeah, sure..." Bucky echoed, wondering if he had already gotten himself too deep...
Bucky probably should have thought this through a bit more. He should have at least brought the guy to a tailor or something. Everyone was staring at them. Bucky shrugged their eyes off. They were used to him here. Hopefully they gave him a little trust and didn't call the cops on him and his weird friend.
"So, I take it you're new to the city? You seem like a real wheat..." Bucky mused, sipping at his whiskey and watching the other man out of the corner of his eye.
"A real...wheat?" Crazy Eyes repeated, brow furrowing. Bucky sighed.
"Jeez, are you new to the decade too?" he teased, wondering why the guy didn't seem to understand him half the time. Was he some sheltered rich boy who didn't know any slang?
"Uh...yeah, actually." Bucky's brow furrowed, watching Crazy Eyes scratch the back of his neck as he admitted this.
"Wait...what?" he questioned, gesturing for the bartender to fill him up again. Getting drunk seemed like the only way to handle this guy.
"I...you're going to think I'm crazy." Bucky snorted, if only the guy knew the nickname he got already. "Little late for that, eh?" Crazy Eyes guessed, lips pulling up into a smirk and Bucky nodded.
"Just a bit." he agreed, "So really, hit me with the best you got." Bucky was pretty sure he could handle it. Crazy Eyes seemed to ponder it for a few seconds, before shrugging.
"Okay. I'm from the future. I was chasing this monster, managed to get ahold of it, a red light popped up, and then I was chasing the monster again. Just in an alley in the forties this time."
Bucky continued staring at Crazy Eyes for a few silent minutes before blowing out a breath. "Okay then. How can I help you track down this monster thing then? Guessing you want to go back to your time." Bucky nodded his thanks to the bartender, drinking some more whiskey.
"Wait...that's it?" Something lit up in Crazy Eyes. "Are you a hunter?" he asked, voice hushed, leaning towards him some. Bucky's tilted his head.
"No, why? What does that have to do with anything? Unless this so-called monster is a deer or something..." Crazy Eyes shook his head.
"Nothing. Don't worry about it...then why do you just accept my story?" he asked skeptically, and Bucky could almost see the gears turning in his head as he tried to figure out if Bucky was about to tackle him and take him to a mental hospital. He chuckled.
"I've seen a lot of stuff. I went to war-" he paused to chuckle at the look of trepidation on Crazy Eyes' face. "-calm down this isn't some weathered veteran's woeful tale. I went to war and I saw my best friend turn from a scrawny 90 pound artist to a 6 foot tall, 190 pound muscled soldier in a matter of months. And I saw an average looking guy rip off his face to show off a red skull. This is really not the weirdest thing I've heard of." Bucky chuckled, sipping his drink. Crazy Eyes' brow furrowed.
"Dude, you just gave me the plot line to a Captain America comic..." Crazy Eyes pointed out, and Bucky raised an eyebrow.
"Uh...yeah, but I'm talking about the actual guy, dingy." he chuckled, before turning to offer his hand to the man. Crazy Eyes stared at it for a few seconds before shaking his head.
"Sure, why not..." he muttered, shaking Bucky's hand. "Wait...best friend...Bucky!" he declared, sounding mighty proud of himself and Bucky nodded.
"Wow, you a fan of the comics then?" he was amused to see Crazy Eyes flush red.
"No, I mean, I've read them, but I wouldn't say a fan..." Shaking his head, the man continued, "I'm Dean Winchester."
"Nice to meet ya Dean. Now, let's find that monster of yours, yeah?"