yourbestguysgun | → you get mistaken for strangers by your own friends

[ There's a clear view of the Rogers-Barnes kitchen coming through on the feed, Bucky hunched over the counter with a pen and a pad of paper, a half bitten pen between his fingers. He scrawls for a minute before it ends up propped by a coffee mug for the whole world to see. Why, he has no idea, it just feels like a good idea at the time. ]

Dear Santa,

Sorry I told Steve y'weren't real when we were eight, okay buddy? It was a mistake, but Johnny did tell me first, so I can't be blamed for the big fuss it caused, right? Anyway, I figure as it is the season an' all, I should write.

For Christmas I kinda only want like a few things, so don't worry.

A carton of those fancy cigarettes Jones smokes, cause I kinda miss the taste.
A bagel from Marcy's Diner, that's impossible, I got it, but you don't get good cream cheese here like Marcy does.
My Johnson. I guess Santa don't know much about guns, so it's the M1941. We served well together. And I want mine, not just anyones, it's kinda important.
For the people I care about to catch a break, okay?
I want Steve to have a good Christmas. Yeah, I don't care, he's usually sick, or alone, or working, and then there's the war, and I just want him to have a good time, so you can ignore the crap I've written there if you do this one thing for me. If anyone can swing it, it'd be you.

Thanks,

J. Barnes.

[ There's a moment of silence as it all finally registers, and Bucky starts swearing. ] Oh, you've got to be fuckin' kiddin' me, what is this crap?

[ Then the pad is snatched up, Bucky's hand hovering in place holding an old silver lighter, and the whole thing goes up in smoke. ] Shit. [ Feed snapped off. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Which means guns, cigarettes and bagels are a necessity?

Y'ever been t'New York? 'Course it is.

Oh, I've been. But perhaps I just wasn't visiting the right parts.

Shame. Ever feel like havin' an eighty year ol' man show y'around, look me up in the future.

[ there's a pause, because oh mr. barnes, she's seen your file and noted your date of death. welp. ]

I just might.

[ Well, that's unfortunate. ]

I'll show y'all the gun-totin', bagel-eating, smokin' parts of the neighbourhood.

Every girl's dream.

Well, probably not every girl’s. I’ve had some dames freak out the minute they find a pistol in the kitchen. It’s New York, you have to be prepared.

Clearly you're courting the wrong kind of woman then.

[ His voice radiates amusement. ] I'll say.

→ you get mistaken for strangers by your own friends

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