Bucky's drunk. ...Or at least he should be.
He's had probably a dozen shots of whiskey in the last hour, but it's not hitting him like he'd have hoped. The pleasant fuzzy haze that should be flooding him with warmth and good will just hasn't materialized. He's pretty sure he knows why.
Goddamned serum bullshit…
He slams the glass down onto the bar and orders another.
First HYDRA decimates his unit, captures and tortures him for weeks, he gets stuck in a field hospital for two more, and now… now he can't even drink it all away? Life isn't fair.
He wonders vaguely if he should've shaved, but he honestly can't be bothered. Who cares if he's scruffy? If his hair's messy or his shoes aren't shined? Who cares if his jacket's a little rumpled up, if he hasn't bothered with a tie?
Anybody that wants to hassle him over it is welcome to try. He wouldn't mind a punching bag to take some of his frustration out on, right about now.
He knocks back a few more drinks as Steve rounds up the core of his Howling Commandos team. The bartender is eyeing him, so he nurses the latest one for a while, trying not to stand out so much. They aren't helping anyway.
The Commandos are cheerfully shouting and laughing in the next room, and Bucky knows they'll fall in. He knew it before they did. He's the one who told Steve to ask them in the first place.
He also, unfortunately, knows he'll be next, and knows what he'll say when he's asked. He was just hoping for a little liquid courage before he had to face the inevitable. Life really isn't fair.
Bucky doesn't want to go. He never wanted to be here in the first place, but if he had any illusions in his mind about the glories of war, they are thoroughly behind him. He isn't sure he can face what going back out there means.
He still wakes up every morning expecting to be strapped down, a needle in his arm. Still sees the dead men they passed on the march to HYDRA's prison after his capture. Remembers with a shudder the men dissolved into blue light without a trace, not even their dogtags left to be collected. Just… gone.
All he wants now is to go home and forget he ever heard of war. Of Germany. Of HYDRA. Forget about anything that isn't Brooklyn, and Steve, and safety.
...But Steve isn't safe. He's starting to think that Steve will never be safe. Least of all from himself. Steve is going back out there and he just can't let Steve go alone. The punk's too damned stupid, too damned reckless. Without Bucky watching his back, Steve will get himself killed, and if there's one thing that can scare Bucky Barnes more than the war and the hazy memories of his capture, it's that. The fear that they will get Steve. That they'll kill him…. or worse…
It's enough to make him choose to do exactly what he least wants to.
When Steve sits down beside him a few minutes later, nervous and uncertain, Bucky smiles bitterly into his glass.
15 shots and not even tipsy…
"See? I told ya-" He says, leaning back in his chair and mustering up as much ease and charm as can. He puts on his old Brooklyn drawl and a lazy smile. It's harder than it ought to be.
He's trying.
"What about you?" Steve asks softly, his eyes flicking down at his hands before meeting Bucky's. "You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?" A nervous little smile flickers across the edges of Steve's mouth.
Bucky wonders if Steve even understands what he's asking for.
For Steve, he's sure, it's not quite real yet. This is still a war game. He doesn't know how to explain the difference to the kid, so he doesn't try. It's something you have to live to understand, anyway.
...More than that, though he'll never admit it out loud, he's rather strap himself back down to that table than have to be the one to snuff out the idealistic light in Steve's eyes. He just can't blindside the kid by introducing him to cold, hard reality. He can't - even if he knows he should. Steve is the one reliable source of light in this world anymore, and dammit he isn't about to destroy that.
It doesn't matter in the end, really. Steve is going. That much is certain; and if Steve is going, so is he. But Bucky's following Steve Rogers: the little guy from Brooklyn that he's always followed.
Captain America can go straight to hell for all he cares.