I'm going to be boring on Chris Pike. I read somewhere semidemiofficial that he grew up happy on a SouthWestern US ranch, and I believe that. In the interests of geographic diversity I kind of feel he shouldn't be from the US, but the only other place for his accent and affect I can think of is Canada and I don't know enough about its regions, so I'll stick with 'canon' and the SouthWest for him.
This story is my love letter to Steve. As was 'Steadfast'. This is also my love letter to Bucky, because.
There's five days left before the month ends, but as far as Steve's concerned Mr. Phillips can have the apartment now and the furniture too.
I wanted to set up the situation ASAP. He stands in the doorway holding a suitcase with his clothes and sketchbooks, watching Bucky dump the few cans from the pantry into the box with the spare sheets, looking his last at the apartment where his Mom raised him.
Why is he leaving...
His Mom's dead now. Those four words have echoed through his head for over a week.
... the answer.
They buried her this morning, and the dusty afternoon sunlight slants through the kitchen window as Bucky gives Steve a big bracing smile. Steve tries to smile back, but it feels fake and sickly; Bucky winces around the eyes, hefts the box and heads over to him.
I love their love. Also, since Steve is an art student, I tried to lard this with visual details.
Because the door's shut, because there's no one here but them, Bucky puts down the box and wraps Steve in his arms.
I love how different people are in what they consider private.
He's getting broader by the day, he's strong and solid and everything Steve's realizing he won't grow up to be, and Steve buries his face in Bucky's crisp shirt and holds on tight, gulping several warm breaths. But he doesn't cry. His Mom is dead, and blubbering won't bring her back.
Steve is a sweet creature, and a tough cookie. And he and Bucky have a very tactile relationship in the movie, so.
So Steve makes sure he lets go first and takes a step back, makes sure he reaches for the box before Bucky can, though Bucky swats his hands away and hoists it. "C'mon," Bucky says, and Steve grabs his suitcase with both hands and lugs it along as, like always, he follows Bucky.
He's not napoleon-complexy, but he has his pride, and Bucky respects that (and loves him).
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Date: 2013-06-08 02:22 am (UTC)This story is my love letter to Steve. As was 'Steadfast'. This is also my love letter to Bucky, because.
There's five days left before the month ends, but as far as Steve's concerned Mr. Phillips can have the apartment now and the furniture too.
I wanted to set up the situation ASAP. He stands in the doorway holding a suitcase with his clothes and sketchbooks, watching Bucky dump the few cans from the pantry into the box with the spare sheets, looking his last at the apartment where his Mom raised him.
Why is he leaving...
His Mom's dead now. Those four words have echoed through his head for over a week.
... the answer.
They buried her this morning, and the dusty afternoon sunlight slants through the kitchen window as Bucky gives Steve a big bracing smile. Steve tries to smile back, but it feels fake and sickly; Bucky winces around the eyes, hefts the box and heads over to him.
I love their love. Also, since Steve is an art student, I tried to lard this with visual details.
Because the door's shut, because there's no one here but them, Bucky puts down the box and wraps Steve in his arms.
I love how different people are in what they consider private.
He's getting broader by the day, he's strong and solid and everything Steve's realizing he won't grow up to be, and Steve buries his face in Bucky's crisp shirt and holds on tight, gulping several warm breaths. But he doesn't cry. His Mom is dead, and blubbering won't bring her back.
Steve is a sweet creature, and a tough cookie. And he and Bucky have a very tactile relationship in the movie, so.
So Steve makes sure he lets go first and takes a step back, makes sure he reaches for the box before Bucky can, though Bucky swats his hands away and hoists it. "C'mon," Bucky says, and Steve grabs his suitcase with both hands and lugs it along as, like always, he follows Bucky.
He's not napoleon-complexy, but he has his pride, and Bucky respects that (and loves him).