Domenika Marzione (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
domarzione) wrote2018-03-04 01:28 pm
domarzione) wrote2018-03-04 01:28 pm
Entry tags:
post-BP sting drabble
(No spoilers) (originally posted to tumblr)
Bucky wakes up in softness, warm and relaxed, and it takes him a long moment to realize that he is awake because this is not how it goes. He wakes up to cold water thrown on him by the bucketful; he wakes up to an open-palmed slap to his face; he wakes up to a kick to his stomach; he wakes up sore; he wakes up startled and disoriented; he wakes up tense and ready to fight for his life; he wakes up cold.
“Rest, Sergeant Barnes. No harm will come to you here,” a sing-song voice tells him and he wants to say that that isn’t true, that that hasn’t been true since 1942. But it is true right now and he doesn’t know how he knows he can believe that. But he can and so he sleeps.
He wakes up again in softness, warm and relaxed, and this time he opens his eyes. He’s in a room, not a cell, not a cage, not a clinic, not a lab. He’s in a bed overloaded with loud-colored blankets and there is sunlight bright behind curtains and flowers in vases all around. He’s a little stunned because he’s lived in darkness for so long that the light is blinding. But the reds here are not the color of blood and there are no shadows anywhere.
He pushes himself up to sitting and nearly faceplants on the bed because his balance is off. His arm is off and that’s when his brain catches up to his eyes and he remembers he’s in Wakanda.
Bucky wakes up in softness, warm and relaxed, and it takes him a long moment to realize that he is awake because this is not how it goes. He wakes up to cold water thrown on him by the bucketful; he wakes up to an open-palmed slap to his face; he wakes up to a kick to his stomach; he wakes up sore; he wakes up startled and disoriented; he wakes up tense and ready to fight for his life; he wakes up cold.
“Rest, Sergeant Barnes. No harm will come to you here,” a sing-song voice tells him and he wants to say that that isn’t true, that that hasn’t been true since 1942. But it is true right now and he doesn’t know how he knows he can believe that. But he can and so he sleeps.
He wakes up again in softness, warm and relaxed, and this time he opens his eyes. He’s in a room, not a cell, not a cage, not a clinic, not a lab. He’s in a bed overloaded with loud-colored blankets and there is sunlight bright behind curtains and flowers in vases all around. He’s a little stunned because he’s lived in darkness for so long that the light is blinding. But the reds here are not the color of blood and there are no shadows anywhere.
He pushes himself up to sitting and nearly faceplants on the bed because his balance is off. His arm is off and that’s when his brain catches up to his eyes and he remembers he’s in Wakanda.
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