In a world that was full of people who would rather kick you when you're down or spit on you when you're at your worst, he can acknowledge and understand that there were also people who would do the opposite. Immediately his mind went to Steve, and just as quickly he pushed the thought of the other man out of his head, tucked away once more into a box in the corner that he'll eventually sort through. Anyway, Steve wasn't in trouble. He didn't know much of anything about the man they were heading toward to help, though his name was vaguely familiar. Normally all of his HYDRA-related missions were easy to recall, far easier than anything else stored deep in the storage of his mind. So maybe he didn't recognize the name from HYDRA.
He drove, listening to classical music in the background of the car as she slept curled up in the passenger seat beside him. Occasionally he'd sneak a glance in her direction to see if she was still asleep, or if she'd woken and was just being quiet. Some days it still unnerved him that she could sleep so easily with one of the world's deadliest assassins down the hall or right beside her in the driver's seat of a car. Some days it still unnerved him that he could sleep so easily with one of the world's greatest spies so close by.
"A couple hours out," he told her when she woke and yawned. "We'll need to stop for gas soon." And food. Always food. God. He was still adjusting to the fact that he could eat regularly again, at least for now. It didn't have to be full meals all the time. He'd found he really liked a lot of the different snacks that the gas stations sold, trying something new and different each time. One of his favorites so far was caramel popcorn. He remembered liking popcorn in the days before the war, but it wasn't something his family had regularly, or even on the occasions he'd gone to the movies. But here and now it's in abundance and it wasn't super expensive. He loved it.
A sleepy little smile was his initial answer, followed by Natasha's small nod. "I did, thanks. You're a pretty good driver, Barnes." Glancing out of the window at a road sign, she added, "We made pretty good time." Natasha fished her cell out of a pocket and glanced over her message list. "We're supposed to meet Tomas around sundown, he's sent me coordinates so finding the place shouldn't be a problem, and I think we'll have time enough to stop for some food, if you're hungry."
Her eyes twinkled at him; she knew he was. Bucky Barnes was always hungry, she'd discovered. But that wasn't too surprising; she'd seen Rogers pack away the groceries, and given how hot their metabolism ran, it was a wonder either of them weren't ravenous all the time. She'd watched him discover snack food one bag at the time, and had found no end of amusement in his opinions about all of the different "excess" this modern world now sported.
She herself was in need of a little caffeine, or some other sort of pick-me-up, but her coffee had long since gone cold - a sniff at the cup she'd left in the middle console had her nose wrinkling and she put it back with a mild huff. The quiet was comfortable, she wasn't usually chatty if she could help it, and Barnes was the epitome of the "strong, silent type". But she felt no unease in his presence; she trusted him, even if the man himself couldn't fathom why. One day, perhaps, she'd sit him down and tell him, but for now, she could just hope the memories would begin to return on their own.
Although, if they did, she honestly had no idea how she was going to handle those questions. A rumination best for later, really.
The music on the radio was soothing - she enjoyed classical music, too - but they were starting to reach the outlying suburbs of Prague, and the traffic was starting to thicken, more buildings and houses appearing off the expressway. "You want to find a place to eat now, or wait until we get a little closer?" The former would be less populated, the latter, more places to choose from.
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maskirovka) wrote2018-04-08 02:44 pm
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He drove, listening to classical music in the background of the car as she slept curled up in the passenger seat beside him. Occasionally he'd sneak a glance in her direction to see if she was still asleep, or if she'd woken and was just being quiet. Some days it still unnerved him that she could sleep so easily with one of the world's deadliest assassins down the hall or right beside her in the driver's seat of a car. Some days it still unnerved him that he could sleep so easily with one of the world's greatest spies so close by.
"A couple hours out," he told her when she woke and yawned. "We'll need to stop for gas soon." And food. Always food. God. He was still adjusting to the fact that he could eat regularly again, at least for now. It didn't have to be full meals all the time. He'd found he really liked a lot of the different snacks that the gas stations sold, trying something new and different each time. One of his favorites so far was caramel popcorn. He remembered liking popcorn in the days before the war, but it wasn't something his family had regularly, or even on the occasions he'd gone to the movies. But here and now it's in abundance and it wasn't super expensive. He loved it.
"Sleep okay?"
no subject
Her eyes twinkled at him; she knew he was. Bucky Barnes was always hungry, she'd discovered. But that wasn't too surprising; she'd seen Rogers pack away the groceries, and given how hot their metabolism ran, it was a wonder either of them weren't ravenous all the time. She'd watched him discover snack food one bag at the time, and had found no end of amusement in his opinions about all of the different "excess" this modern world now sported.
She herself was in need of a little caffeine, or some other sort of pick-me-up, but her coffee had long since gone cold - a sniff at the cup she'd left in the middle console had her nose wrinkling and she put it back with a mild huff. The quiet was comfortable, she wasn't usually chatty if she could help it, and Barnes was the epitome of the "strong, silent type". But she felt no unease in his presence; she trusted him, even if the man himself couldn't fathom why. One day, perhaps, she'd sit him down and tell him, but for now, she could just hope the memories would begin to return on their own.
Although, if they did, she honestly had no idea how she was going to handle those questions. A rumination best for later, really.
The music on the radio was soothing - she enjoyed classical music, too - but they were starting to reach the outlying suburbs of Prague, and the traffic was starting to thicken, more buildings and houses appearing off the expressway. "You want to find a place to eat now, or wait until we get a little closer?" The former would be less populated, the latter, more places to choose from.