Domenika Marzione (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
domarzione) wrote2013-09-02 02:13 pm
domarzione) wrote2013-09-02 02:13 pm
Entry tags:
ficlet: in miniature (Captain America)
Continuing on a theme. I'm working out ideas out loud, I guess?
In Miniature
1900 words; PG; Genfic
Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes
"Bucky, come quick! It's Steve."
He's up and running before Esther "don't call me Essie" Rosen has even finished speaking because (a) Esther doesn't normally talk to him at all, preferring to use intermediaries like Gertie or Fanny, (b) when she's absolutely forced to talk to him, it's never 'Bucky' and always 'James,' which she does entirely because he doesn't want her to, and (c) the panic in her voice is real and Esther doesn't scare easily, not even when Betty Mills got her brothers to follow Esther home calling her 'kike whore' all the way.
(Bucky's not shy about wishing Esther would give him the time of day. She's tall, stacked, and real pretty for someone who looks so very Jewish.)
He catches up to Esther and she points down Coffey Street toward the water. "Warehouse across from the pier," she says and he runs ahead, dodging a truck as he charges across Ferris without waiting for the right of way, horns beeping angrily behind him as he charges down the block, looking for where Steve might be. The warehouse and the pier are both busy with trucks loading and unloading and men pushing carts across the sidewalks and piling up their goods and Bucky doesn't see Steve until he's almost past him, a huddled lump of brown against the dirty wall with only a tuft of blond hair to show it's a person and not a bundle of rags.
"Jesus, Steve," Bucky sighs, crouching down and reaching out to touch his shoulder. Steve flails out an arm in self-defense at the contact and pulls himself into an even tighter ball, which makes him whimper in pain and then cough wetly and yeah, this one's a doozy. "Steve," Bucky says louder. "It's me."
An eye appears from behind a sheltering forearm and Bucky makes a face at it and then Steve unfolds himself slowly and with difficulty until he's sitting with his back against the brick wall and Bucky can look him over with delicate hands. Steve's a mess, one eye already going black and cuts on his face and hands and his shirt's torn and dirtied. "Hey, Buck," he wheezes out, trying to smile with bloodied split lips and then thinking better of it too late.
Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky sees blue in motion and pivots on his toes in case he has to defend them both, but it's only Esther, long curly hair a little wild as she stops short and smooths her skirt and then her hair. He returns his attention to Steve, who is now looking down between his knees, and wishes that Esther would go because while he appreciates the following-up, Steve's not gonna say boo with her there.
"What was it this time?" Bucky asks him anyway.
"Nothing," Steve answers, still looking at the ground. "It was nothing."
"It was not nothing!" Esther retorts angrily before Bucky can point out that nothing worked him over pretty good. "It was the Mills Brothers and Harold Wertz."
The Mills Brothers are a neighborhood menace, childhood bullies who grew up into apprentices in their father's collection of toughs trying to make claim to Red Hook. Betty's smarter than all of them put together, but her daddy doesn't think anyone should take orders from a dame, which is why the Mills Gang isn't ever going to be more than a neighborhood menace because Tommy and Jimmy Mills are big and mean and dumb as posts. Also, the Jews and Italians are going to stomp them like cockroaches if they get too ambitious or too lucky, especially if they go anywhere near the docks.
"They were going after Mary Murray," Esther goes on when Steve won't even look up, attention on a piece of loose gravel on the ground. It might be covered in his blood. "I was trying to get her away, but there were three of them and two of us."
She doesn't have to say more than that. Steve tried to even the odds and ended up being the distraction that let Esther get Mary out of sight.
"She okay?" Steve asks, risking a look up, wincing as he does. Bucky hopes nothing's too busted up inside. It took Steve months to pay off the hospital bill the last time he started coughing up blood after a beating and that was with him giving up and letting Bucky help out a little.
"She's fine," Esther assures, audibly tamping back her frustration. "You're another story."
It takes both Bucky and Esther to get Steve up to standing and Bucky listens and watches carefully as they give him a minute to get used to the change in position. Steve starts walking on his own, making tiny noises of pain for the first few steps but pushing away any effort to help him, which doesn't mean anything except that his pride's still mostly intact. When they get back to Conover, Esther pauses; she lives southeast while they go north before turning. Steve assures her that they'll be fine and thanks her for her help, which Esther frowns at but doesn't protest.
"Thanks," Bucky offers, too. He gets back a curt nod and then she's off across the street.
They make slow progress up Conover because Steve's bravado can only carry him so far and by the time they get to Wolcott, he's accepting Bucky's help.
"You gotta stop doing this, Stevie," Bucky tells him as they wait to cross Conover. "Your mouth is running up bills your body can't pay. You gotta learn to pick your spots better. A lot better."
It's hard for Steve to talk and walk at the same time, so they get to the opposite corner before he replies. "They were saying awful things to Mary, Buck. Really awful things to make her cry."
Bucky rolls his eyes. "Of course they were," he agrees. "But all they were going to do was talk. They weren't going to do anything more than that. You can't go to war over words. Especially when they're true."
Mary Murray's father ran off a couple of years ago but she's got a brand-new baby brother because her mother started taking in more than washing.
"It shouldn't matter if they're true," Steve huffs and Bucky pauses because Steve's winded and wound up and if they don't stop, he'll get an attack.
"You can't expect to teach the Mills Brothers manners," Bucky tells him with a frown. "They're not smart enough to learn the lesson. Esther getting her away from them was the right play."
They make it back to the rooming house and past Mrs. Conlon's watchful gaze -- this isn't the first time Bucky's brought Steve back bloodied -- and they go straight to the bath on their floor and Steve knows the drill, shucking his shoes and taking everything else in with him so he can clean the blood and dirt off his clothes at the same time. Bucky goes back to their room to get a towel and clean clothes and soap and he waits inside because if he goes back to their room, Steve will turn up dressed and Bucky wants to see how bad the damage is. They have to get to work soon, but he'll beg off for the both of them if he has to take Steve to the hospital. He never wants to wake up again to the crash of Steve falling to the floor, unable to breathe as he coughs up blood, and while Steve has promised him that that won't happen again, Bucky's not willing to take chances because Steve's determination to do what's right regardless of consequences does not extend to his own care.
The bruises are ugly, but his ribs are where they're supposed to be and Steve's breathing easier, so Bucky leaves him to finish getting dressed, taking the wet clothes back to their room to hang on the line. They go right back out and Bucky walks him all the way to the printers because the Mills Brothers might not be done for the day.
"I'll pick you up on the way back," Bucky tells him, not staying long enough for Steve to protest. Bucky works down at the new A&P market on Columbia as a part-time shelf-stocker, one of the only jobs he can do that doesn't require him to be in a union, which he can't afford to join. It's a hard job, but it's a job and it pays okay and if the hours aren't enough to let him live easily, they at least let him still finish school (which is probably more important to Steve than to him) and he can still buy the dented cans and past-prime perishables for cheaper than the public can. It won't be enough to live on forever, but he and Steve put together make do for now. Make better than do, really, because they both know the stories of what happened to the other kids who aged out of the children's home before them.
He's got a bag of sorry groceries with him when he stops off to pick up Steve, who thankfully has actually waited for him. Steve's got something on his lap as he sits, a brown paper parcel tied up with string.
"Esther stopped by," Steve explains as he gets up gingerly, hissing in pain so that Bucky reaches out to steady him. "She said it was from her and Mary. I think it might be pastrami."
Bucky cocks an eyebrow. Mary Murray doesn't have two pennies to rub together and Esther's family runs a grocery in the Jewish part of Williamsburg. Steve shrugs in acknowledgment.
The package is indeed pastrami, enough for the both of them to make ridiculously fat sandwiches with the day-old bread Bucky bought. (Steve would have shared even if there'd only been enough for one, but Bucky takes it as a positive sign that Esther was generous enough to include him, even if she might have done so because she knew what Steve would do, too.) They eat it with bruised apples and the content of a dented can of cooked peaches and, after they clean up, they deposit the coins they would have spent on dinner at the counter at Partridge's in the milk jar they use as a bank. The money's for the rent, mostly, but also for things like trips to Coney Island because they might be wise for their years, but their years combined still only add up to thirty-five.
"Don't make a habit of getting yourself beat to a pulp for a good meal," Bucky tells him as they pull out their schoolbooks to do their homework. He's got a history test tomorrow that he'll probably do okay on and an English test he probably won't because he can't stay awake long enough to actually get through the reading. Dickens can turn the French Revolution into a slog. "Or at least wait until the damsel in distress is Harriet Baxter and you can get some porterhouses for your trouble."
Harriet's father has a butcher shop on Ninth.
"I'll keep it in mind," Steve promises absently, sitting awkwardly at the desk. They take turns at the desk, depending on who needs it, but Steve can't sit on the bed and work tonight and Bucky's handwriting is bad enough that a level writing surface won't improve it much.
"You do that."
In Miniature
1900 words; PG; Genfic
Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes
"Bucky, come quick! It's Steve."
He's up and running before Esther "don't call me Essie" Rosen has even finished speaking because (a) Esther doesn't normally talk to him at all, preferring to use intermediaries like Gertie or Fanny, (b) when she's absolutely forced to talk to him, it's never 'Bucky' and always 'James,' which she does entirely because he doesn't want her to, and (c) the panic in her voice is real and Esther doesn't scare easily, not even when Betty Mills got her brothers to follow Esther home calling her 'kike whore' all the way.
(Bucky's not shy about wishing Esther would give him the time of day. She's tall, stacked, and real pretty for someone who looks so very Jewish.)
He catches up to Esther and she points down Coffey Street toward the water. "Warehouse across from the pier," she says and he runs ahead, dodging a truck as he charges across Ferris without waiting for the right of way, horns beeping angrily behind him as he charges down the block, looking for where Steve might be. The warehouse and the pier are both busy with trucks loading and unloading and men pushing carts across the sidewalks and piling up their goods and Bucky doesn't see Steve until he's almost past him, a huddled lump of brown against the dirty wall with only a tuft of blond hair to show it's a person and not a bundle of rags.
"Jesus, Steve," Bucky sighs, crouching down and reaching out to touch his shoulder. Steve flails out an arm in self-defense at the contact and pulls himself into an even tighter ball, which makes him whimper in pain and then cough wetly and yeah, this one's a doozy. "Steve," Bucky says louder. "It's me."
An eye appears from behind a sheltering forearm and Bucky makes a face at it and then Steve unfolds himself slowly and with difficulty until he's sitting with his back against the brick wall and Bucky can look him over with delicate hands. Steve's a mess, one eye already going black and cuts on his face and hands and his shirt's torn and dirtied. "Hey, Buck," he wheezes out, trying to smile with bloodied split lips and then thinking better of it too late.
Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky sees blue in motion and pivots on his toes in case he has to defend them both, but it's only Esther, long curly hair a little wild as she stops short and smooths her skirt and then her hair. He returns his attention to Steve, who is now looking down between his knees, and wishes that Esther would go because while he appreciates the following-up, Steve's not gonna say boo with her there.
"What was it this time?" Bucky asks him anyway.
"Nothing," Steve answers, still looking at the ground. "It was nothing."
"It was not nothing!" Esther retorts angrily before Bucky can point out that nothing worked him over pretty good. "It was the Mills Brothers and Harold Wertz."
The Mills Brothers are a neighborhood menace, childhood bullies who grew up into apprentices in their father's collection of toughs trying to make claim to Red Hook. Betty's smarter than all of them put together, but her daddy doesn't think anyone should take orders from a dame, which is why the Mills Gang isn't ever going to be more than a neighborhood menace because Tommy and Jimmy Mills are big and mean and dumb as posts. Also, the Jews and Italians are going to stomp them like cockroaches if they get too ambitious or too lucky, especially if they go anywhere near the docks.
"They were going after Mary Murray," Esther goes on when Steve won't even look up, attention on a piece of loose gravel on the ground. It might be covered in his blood. "I was trying to get her away, but there were three of them and two of us."
She doesn't have to say more than that. Steve tried to even the odds and ended up being the distraction that let Esther get Mary out of sight.
"She okay?" Steve asks, risking a look up, wincing as he does. Bucky hopes nothing's too busted up inside. It took Steve months to pay off the hospital bill the last time he started coughing up blood after a beating and that was with him giving up and letting Bucky help out a little.
"She's fine," Esther assures, audibly tamping back her frustration. "You're another story."
It takes both Bucky and Esther to get Steve up to standing and Bucky listens and watches carefully as they give him a minute to get used to the change in position. Steve starts walking on his own, making tiny noises of pain for the first few steps but pushing away any effort to help him, which doesn't mean anything except that his pride's still mostly intact. When they get back to Conover, Esther pauses; she lives southeast while they go north before turning. Steve assures her that they'll be fine and thanks her for her help, which Esther frowns at but doesn't protest.
"Thanks," Bucky offers, too. He gets back a curt nod and then she's off across the street.
They make slow progress up Conover because Steve's bravado can only carry him so far and by the time they get to Wolcott, he's accepting Bucky's help.
"You gotta stop doing this, Stevie," Bucky tells him as they wait to cross Conover. "Your mouth is running up bills your body can't pay. You gotta learn to pick your spots better. A lot better."
It's hard for Steve to talk and walk at the same time, so they get to the opposite corner before he replies. "They were saying awful things to Mary, Buck. Really awful things to make her cry."
Bucky rolls his eyes. "Of course they were," he agrees. "But all they were going to do was talk. They weren't going to do anything more than that. You can't go to war over words. Especially when they're true."
Mary Murray's father ran off a couple of years ago but she's got a brand-new baby brother because her mother started taking in more than washing.
"It shouldn't matter if they're true," Steve huffs and Bucky pauses because Steve's winded and wound up and if they don't stop, he'll get an attack.
"You can't expect to teach the Mills Brothers manners," Bucky tells him with a frown. "They're not smart enough to learn the lesson. Esther getting her away from them was the right play."
They make it back to the rooming house and past Mrs. Conlon's watchful gaze -- this isn't the first time Bucky's brought Steve back bloodied -- and they go straight to the bath on their floor and Steve knows the drill, shucking his shoes and taking everything else in with him so he can clean the blood and dirt off his clothes at the same time. Bucky goes back to their room to get a towel and clean clothes and soap and he waits inside because if he goes back to their room, Steve will turn up dressed and Bucky wants to see how bad the damage is. They have to get to work soon, but he'll beg off for the both of them if he has to take Steve to the hospital. He never wants to wake up again to the crash of Steve falling to the floor, unable to breathe as he coughs up blood, and while Steve has promised him that that won't happen again, Bucky's not willing to take chances because Steve's determination to do what's right regardless of consequences does not extend to his own care.
The bruises are ugly, but his ribs are where they're supposed to be and Steve's breathing easier, so Bucky leaves him to finish getting dressed, taking the wet clothes back to their room to hang on the line. They go right back out and Bucky walks him all the way to the printers because the Mills Brothers might not be done for the day.
"I'll pick you up on the way back," Bucky tells him, not staying long enough for Steve to protest. Bucky works down at the new A&P market on Columbia as a part-time shelf-stocker, one of the only jobs he can do that doesn't require him to be in a union, which he can't afford to join. It's a hard job, but it's a job and it pays okay and if the hours aren't enough to let him live easily, they at least let him still finish school (which is probably more important to Steve than to him) and he can still buy the dented cans and past-prime perishables for cheaper than the public can. It won't be enough to live on forever, but he and Steve put together make do for now. Make better than do, really, because they both know the stories of what happened to the other kids who aged out of the children's home before them.
He's got a bag of sorry groceries with him when he stops off to pick up Steve, who thankfully has actually waited for him. Steve's got something on his lap as he sits, a brown paper parcel tied up with string.
"Esther stopped by," Steve explains as he gets up gingerly, hissing in pain so that Bucky reaches out to steady him. "She said it was from her and Mary. I think it might be pastrami."
Bucky cocks an eyebrow. Mary Murray doesn't have two pennies to rub together and Esther's family runs a grocery in the Jewish part of Williamsburg. Steve shrugs in acknowledgment.
The package is indeed pastrami, enough for the both of them to make ridiculously fat sandwiches with the day-old bread Bucky bought. (Steve would have shared even if there'd only been enough for one, but Bucky takes it as a positive sign that Esther was generous enough to include him, even if she might have done so because she knew what Steve would do, too.) They eat it with bruised apples and the content of a dented can of cooked peaches and, after they clean up, they deposit the coins they would have spent on dinner at the counter at Partridge's in the milk jar they use as a bank. The money's for the rent, mostly, but also for things like trips to Coney Island because they might be wise for their years, but their years combined still only add up to thirty-five.
"Don't make a habit of getting yourself beat to a pulp for a good meal," Bucky tells him as they pull out their schoolbooks to do their homework. He's got a history test tomorrow that he'll probably do okay on and an English test he probably won't because he can't stay awake long enough to actually get through the reading. Dickens can turn the French Revolution into a slog. "Or at least wait until the damsel in distress is Harriet Baxter and you can get some porterhouses for your trouble."
Harriet's father has a butcher shop on Ninth.
"I'll keep it in mind," Steve promises absently, sitting awkwardly at the desk. They take turns at the desk, depending on who needs it, but Steve can't sit on the bed and work tonight and Bucky's handwriting is bad enough that a level writing surface won't improve it much.
"You do that."