#bucksquared

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Buck and Bucky where Buck knocks out the British officer and the reaction. I hope I did it right, don’t use this very much

(Did great!)

Handsy.

The moment the RAF man says it, Buck knows a fight is on the horizon. Usually, he tries to talk down Curt and Bucky. But the way this RAF man is looking at him. The way he's been poking and prodding at them about their daytime missions. Part of Buck sees it's insecurity. These boys have been holding onto their country by their fucking fingernails, and Buck is sympathetic to what feels like fear they haven't done their work good enough on their own.

Buck reads people, and these pilots are tired and drunk and a little pissed off because they wanted to do the jobs themselves. He can sympathize. He really can.

But it's one thing to tease about how Bucky touches. It's another to imply that it's wrong somehow. Bucky's touch is one of the few things that brings Buck a little quiet in this fucking war, and he won't have it insulted.

So, there's going to be a fight.

Buck's father taught him to fight. Not in a bonding way, but in the way a man teaches a boy to fight because the man is a degenerate gambler and the boy may be taken for collateral. Buck delivered his first knock-out punch at age 10. He was thin as a rail, arms bruised from being grabbed by a loan shark's underling, and terrified he would be murdered. He was also certain this would all happen again because it had happened before.

If he can help it, Buck doesn't fight. He knows too much about how to really hurt someone, and he doesn't want to take any chances. Curt and Bucky, they fight like boys who like to tussle. Who grew up wrestling around with other boys their size. Who went home at night and went to bed and didn't worry that their fathers were going to stumble in drunk and raging and blaming them for costing them money they could use to win big.

Buck punched out his father at thirteen. It didn't gain him the man's respect. It didn't make Buck feel any better. But for a little while, it was quiet.

This fight, now, the one they're all tumbling out of the bar to have, it's not about getting a little quiet. It's not about saving his skin. It's a fight he should had to Curt or Bucky and let run the course these fights always do. A punch or two, some shit-talking, and then it's all fine again.

But the way the pilot had said it rattles in his head. Handsy. Like it's silly or stupid or wrong.

"I'm taking this one," Buck says to Bucky and Curt as they argue over who's going to fight. They both still and stare at him.

"You don't fight," Curt says.

"Buck?" Bucky asks, his inflection doing the work of asking if Buck's okay.

"I don't usually fight," Buck says to Curt. "But I'm taking this one."

"Hey," Bucky says. He touches Buck's arm, same as he always does. Casual as anything.

How dare those men mock that touch.

Buck gives Bucky a sharp grin. "I love boxing," he says. "Two men facing off in a one-on-one challenge."

Bucky's eyes go bright with amusement. He skims his fist against Buck's jawline in the softest imitation of a punch. "So, you do like sports," he says.

Buck chuckles. "I like boxing," he says.

There's a shout from behind them, the RAF boys want to know if they're gonna do this or not.

"Gimmie your jacket," Curt says, holding out his hands. "You're gonna move better if you don't have it."

Buck strips it off and hands it over. He squeezes Curt's shoulder, then turns and cups Bucky's face for a moment. Bucky's whole face shifts. He knows why Buck's doing this. Know's why he's chosen to fight.

"My honor can take another ding, I promise," Bucky mutters.

Buck grins and slaps him lightly on the cheek. A love tap. A little affection. A connection. "Place your bets, boys," he says and steps over to show these British boys how it's done.

It's over in less than a minute. The other pilot's got good form, but he's never fought for anything more than some momentary pride. Buck lets him jab at him twice, then pops him in the jaw hard enough he drops to the ground.

Bucky and Curt whoop, and then Buck's feet are off the ground, Bucky's arms wrapped around him as he holds him tight and spins in a circle.

"Got a world champion here, boys!" He shouts.

Buck holds his arms up in the classic boxer's victory pose. Curt whoops again and slaps his chest. Bucky carries Buck down the street hollering that if the boys want a rematch, they know where to find them.

Half a block down, Bucky puts Buck on his feet and grabs his face in his hands. "Hot damn, Buck. You really know your stuff."

"That was the most beautiful jab I've ever seen," Curt says. "Fucking magical."

Buck shrugs. Now that the fight is over, he feels a little silly he felt the need to participate.

Bucky pulls Buck to him and lands a loud, smacking kiss on his forehead. "Curt, this man has defended our honor. Let's get him a piece of white bread and a glass of water."

Curt cackles and leads the way down the street. Bucky cups the back of Buck's neck and presses their foreheads together.

"Some mouthy idiot in a bar is never got stop me touching you," he says, as serious as he was light-hearted a moment ago.

Buck licks the corner of his mouth and reaches up to hold Bucky's arm. "He was insulting you," he says. "That's my job."

Bucky chuckles, and he steals a kiss, his thumb ruffling the hair at Buck's nape as he does so. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, it is."

[fingersdecomposed]

night at the museum - kindsummer

A newly recruited night security guard at the Museum of Natural History discovers that an ancient curse causes the animals and exhibits on display to come to life and wreak havoc. Aside from the massive skeletal figure of a T-Rex, Eddie was drawn to one particular exhibit. It was a wax figure of a marine, Eddie knew his battalion history enough to recognize the uniform, the ensignia. He was part of the Old Breed, the division that spearheaded the offensive in the South Pacific during World War Two. The figure’s features were striking, strong and sharp, and strangely, his eyes seemed intensely kind and patient. Which was ridiculous, because wax figures shouldn’t express emotions.

[kindsummer]

reunited - kindsummer

sequel to repressed. -- Buck knew that he smelled differently now that he was claimed because of the way that Crosby looked at him. Though Rosie hadn’t known him long before he crashed, he knew to keep their amount of touch to the handshake only, respectful of a claim staked by a man who would most likely die before the end of the war. Their reactions only served as reminders that Buck was missing half of himself, separated by an army and several borders.

[hauntingcontradiction]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Masters of the Air (TV 2024) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Gale "Buck" Cleven/John Clarence "Bucky" Egan Characters: John Clarence "Bucky" Egan, Gale "Buck" Cleven Additional Tags: Pining, Needy John Clarence "Bucky" Egan, POV John Clarence "Bucky" Egan, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Pet Names, Praise Kink, Post-War, Needy Gale "Buck" Cleven Series: Part 2 of Some nights you are the lighthouse, some nights you are the sea Summary:

John drops to his knees. He will be good, so good for Gale.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

I found your post about inbox empty and no camp requests literally five minutes after opening the tumblr post episode 8. Were you summoned? Was I? Who cares.

I haven’t had the time to properly comment on your 2buck sexy prompt fill but please do know I will BECAUSE IT HAS BEEN LIVING RENT FREE IN MY HEAD. So fucking well written (pace, words, characterizations, aaaaah). I ramble, sorry.

Back to the point at hand, PROMPT(s) for my two favorite idiots (Buck/Bucky):

- post war bliss, let’s heal the boys a bit and give them their happiness

- set whenever, possessive Gale (boy is 100% unhinged, called it day 1 when Greenland tower control told him to circle back and he just floored it like a goddamn pro)

- magpie behavior John, he just collects stuff for Gale and brings it to him, it’s a character trait (bikes, shit needed to make a crystal radio, boy just does)

- observer Gale, he just loves the physicality John moves in when he’s in Major mode and when he gets the rare chance to look without being seen or having to worry what is seen on his face he just looks and lets himself feel it

- talismans, I love the idea of both of them having something that means ‘I am of my beloved and my beloved is of mine’

- literally whatever other sexy scenario you can concoct, your whiskey one has rewired a couple of circuits in my brain

- soulmarks, on the basis that I’m a sucker for them

Bonus for good ole Benny De Marco as Gale’s keeper when John isn’t around while at the same time John’s handler when Gale’s not there (ngl this is because of the way Buck yells De Marco’s name in the pilot, my boys are MATES™️).

I am afraid I single-handedly murdered your inbox, please forgive me.

Thank you in advance and cheers ✨❤️

(These are all amazing, and I would like to encourage anyone who is reading this and gets an idea from one of these to write you one of the ones I don't [or write the one I did but as your own thing!])

In the barracks, each bed comes with a side table. It has a drawer and a lamp. Most of the boys keep a photo of a loved one on the top, a skin mag in the drawer, and whatever they carry in their pockets each day next to the photo.

Buck's is different because he keeps whatever he carries in his pockets in the drawer, and on the table itself is a collection of random objects that look like he's collecting odds and ends with no real sense. Amongst the clutter are the following things:

A skeleton key with a filigree 'G' carved into the head.

A rock that shines when the sunlight hits it during the day.

A broken bracelet made of blue stones.

A tiny piece of foil shaped into an oak leaf cluster.

The first time a replacement asks about it--because Major Cleven doesn't seem the type to collect odds and ends--Demarco barks a laugh and buys the replacement a drink.

"It's not Cleven's collection. Well, it is. But it's not."

The replacement stares at Demarco. "Uh-huh. Clear as mud."

Demarco sighs. "They're all his, but he didn't pick them, okay?"

"That's no clearer."

Demarco shrugs. "You'll figure it out."

A week later, the replacement is reading in his bunk when Major Egan walks in, giggly and flushed from drinking. He drops hard onto Major Cleven's bed. Major Cleven is--or was--sleeping, but he wakes up and huffs a laugh and says as calm and even as he seems to do everything. "What are you up to?"

Major Egan holds out a hand. "Look what I found!"

Major Cleven squints at Major Egan's hand. "It's a penny."

"No, look closer," Major Egan says. He picks up the penny with his other hand and holds it very close to Major Cleven's eyes. "Look."

Major Cleven grabs Major Egan's wrist and pulls it back a few inches. He squints at the penny, then reaches over and flicks on his lamp. He squints at the penny again. "It's still a penny, John."

"No, it's your birth year," Major Egan says. "See?" He points. "And I found it heads up! It's double good luck for you."

The replacement suddenly realizes neither of them have clocked that he's there. He coughs politely, and suddenly, both Majors are looking at him.

"Is this your first time experiencing Major Egan in his magpie form?" Major Cleven asks.

"Uh," the replacement says.

"He acts like it's silly, but he keeps all of them," Major Egan says, gesturing to Major Cleven.

The replacement expects Major Cleven to scoff or shove Major Egan off his bed. Instead, he smiles and holds out his hand.

"I don't act like it's silly," Major Cleven says and looks at his table for a long moment before setting down very precisely. "I just can't follow your booze-soaked reasoning when you wake me up in the middle of the night."

Major Egan flops sideways so he's taking over half of Major Cleven's bed. "It's only ten, you old man."

Major Cleven stares at Major Egan. "We have an audience, John."

"Eh," Major Egan says and rolls over, stealing Major Cleven's pillow.

"Hey, give that back!" Major Cleven says, yanking the pillow, but Major Egan isn't giving it up.

The replacement doesn't know what to do, so he goes back to his book. The next night at the officer's club, he buys Demarco a drink.

"What was it this time?" Demarco asks.

"A penny from his birth year that he found face up."

Demarco bursts into laughter. "Oh, that's a whole new level of lovesick."

"Are they together?"

"Joined at the hip and a few other parts," Demarco says, then downs his drink. He slaps the replacement on the back. "Come on. I'll let you tell Brady what the latest one is. He'll love it."

[fingersdecomposed]

i tried to be good, am i no good? - kindsummer

Bucky shook his head, grinning. “That’s ‘cause I’m not. No, I’m collecting supplies for a certain project for Buck. On the low. Goons wouldn’t be too happy ‘bout it, so forgive me for not divulging more. It’s something that’ll help all of us though, at least in the way of information.” Alex’s brows furrowed, not a lick of recognition in his eyes. “Buck? I don’t think I’ve met him, yet.” “Maybe not formally,” Bucky shrugged, tucking the pencils into his breast pocket as he prepared to head out into the cold. “He’s about an inch or two shorter than me, more stunning than a movie starlet. You’ll know him when you see him. Thanks again, Alex.” Before Alex could reply, Bucky had already lifted the collar of his jacket to brace against the wind, his nose pinkening as the first gust smacked him in the face.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

I haven't watched episode 4 yet, but I'm gonna guess the overall homo level is hitting the red part of the gauge at this point.

mota 1x02 / 1x04

[kindsummer]

repressed - kindsummer

“Are you sure about this, Major?” The base doc, Gordon, questioned, concern weaved into his low, careful tone. So far, Buck wouldn’t classify any of his choices as something he was entirely sure about, but what other options were there? If he took those extra suppressants, then some other omega would be short on their monthly rations and would have to endure a heat. Buck couldn’t sit with that on his conscience, to use the privilege of his rank and the anxiety surrounding exposure to force someone else into a shitty position. “I’m not sure if Germans provide suppressants to their prisoners of war. If you’re captured, you would be S.O.L. until the red cross was made aware of your status.”

[johnslittlespoon]

hi!!! thoughts on the other boys treating bucky like a dog too—ruffling his hair, calling him good boy jokingly, making comparisons to meatball, patting his stomach/neck/etc, scrubbing his cheeks, being generally touchy feely and fond—and then theres buck to the side being ragingly possessive?

a genuine joy going through your bucksquared brainrot ilu pls get some sleep thank u <3

also!! gsd bucky x black cat buck is GOLDEN but!! consider this: gsd bucky x doberman buck hmmm

ARE YOU INSIDE MY HEAD. this is SOOOO

john would adore the attention, he thrives off of physical affection, we always see how touchy he is with the others. to know he can walk up to any of the boys and nudge his forehead against their shoulder and get his hair pet in return, or even just get a fond shove and an "oh, you dog"– he'd love it.

but a rare jealous/possessive gale? insane. it makes his heart warm, watching john interact with the boys, knowing that other people see how golden he is too. but there's also this feeling in the pit of his stomach that sneaks up on him, and he doesn't know what it is, adamant on ignoring the tiny voice in his head that whispers mine.

because that's silly, john's his best friend, he doesn't belong to him. why would he want him to? and yet he does want; he wants when he hears 'buck and bucky', always spoken one after the other; he wants when him and john are sitting in a corner of the pub, watching the others court pretty girls, pretending their thighs aren't pressed a little too close; he wants when they're crammed into the cockpit of a plane in the evening, watching the sun go down, sharing a flask.

it eats him up inside from the moment it hits him, like he's seeing john in a whole new light. he doesn't say anything, too afraid to ruin what they have, but he lets himself lean into john's affectionate tendencies more than he usually does. and he's thrilled when john keeps coming back to him, suddenly seeking him out over anyone else as soon as gale's given him this sorta green light, always glued to gale, and he wonders if maybe john's felt the same and they're both too scared to cross that line.

and so they both toe it, pushing and pulling, and one day one of them will step over it and it'll be like breathing for the first time, but until then they're just happy to hang all over each other. buck and bucky.

[a genuine joy writing these, i'm so glad you like them, lots of love!! i am sleeping (sorta) i promise jSDJKG. also i adore gsd bucky x doberman buck, that works so well! black cat buck is great personality–wise but i feel like it's missing a little something when it comes to how he cares for his friends, doberman fills that gap. all the dog coded boys. <3]

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Gale decided to go with John to London and they make it to the hotel room and Gale is just touchy feely in a way that John has never seen from him before cuz they always had to hide behind friendly playfulness or be quick or quiet about their affection. I just want Gale wrapping his arms around John's neck, sitting on his lap, all the above and just absolutely blowing John's mind with how much he loves him.

[No queerphobia but also Buck keeps his feelings right here in his chest and one day, he'll die]

"Come to London with me," Bucky says. "We'll paint the town red." His offer is sincere, but he truly doesn't know if Buck will agree or not. He watches Buck chew his toothpick and wishes he could lean in and pull it from his mouth, hold his jaw and kiss him in front of Meatball and everyone.

But Buck's not affectionate like that. He's funny and smart-mouthed, giving Bucky affection with teases and little nudges. Bucky's just glad Buck doesn't mind how affectionate he is. How he needs to rotate around Buck like the Earth to the sun. Have an arm around him, grab his chin, sometimes even bite at him through his uniform.

"Sure," Buck says, breaking Bucky from his thoughts. "I'll go to London with you." His smile builds slowly as Bucky stares at him. "Oh, come on, I'm not a complete wet blanket."

Bucky grins and wraps an arm around Buck's waist. "Just slightly damp sometimes," he says and laughs when Buck shoves his shoulder. "Come on. Let's make tracks before they stop us."

*

Bucky only means to stop at the hotel for a quick shower and a change of clothes, but two minutes after he steps under the water, Buck crowds in with him.

"Oh, hey," Bucky says. "You want to--" He cuts off when Buck grabs his hips, digging in his fingers, and presses his cheek between Bucky's shoulder blades. "Buck?"

Buck rubs his cheek back and forth and wraps his arms around Bucky's waist. He softly kisses the back of Bucky's neck, and then he nudges Bucky forward so they're both under the water.

"Buck?" Bucky asks again.

"I can't--" Buck kisses behind Bucky's ear, then drags his hands up Bucky's torso. "You're so much better at this."

Bucky shakes his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Buck traces Bucky's ribs, making him shiver, and then he drags his mouth down Bucky's neck and shoulder and halfway down his bicep. "This," he says. "Touching."

"You're doing just fine there," Bucky says as another shiver works its way over him. Buck's nosing his spine, running his hands up and down Bucky's side from armpits to hips.

"I want to. All the time. Touch you. But I--" Buck shakes his head. "There's reasons, Bucky. I wish I didn't have them but--"

Bucky turns around. He touches Buck's chin, and Buck lifts this head to meet his eyes. "Hey, you don't have to explain to me, okay? We're usually around people, and you don't like to share. I know you."

Buck grins faintly. "It's not that I don't like to share. It's that it's..." He sighs and presses his face against Bucky's colllar bone. Licks once, then bites down lightly, just like Bucky does to him sometimes. "I used to be jealous about how easy you are with touching everyone. Not that you were touching everyone. Just that you could. Can."

"You touch me as little or as much as you want anywhere, anytime, Buck. Just mean it when you do it, yeah?" Bucky feels Buck nod against him. "But if you wanted to work on it," he says, intentionally adding a sing-song quality to his voice, "you could just try to play a little more grab ass once in awhile."

There's a pause, then a snort, and then Buck is lifting his head to try and glare at Bucky, but he's smiling too much for it to be intimidating. "John, for fuck's sake."

Bucky shrugs. "I'm a man of simple needs," he says.

"You're a stone in my shoe," Buck replies.

Bucky laughs. "Yeah, you say that a lot. I know what it means."

"It means I love you," Buck says, going serious again. "It means I can feel you with me, even when I don't want to."

Bucky doesn't have an answer for that. He just pulls Buck close and holds him under the hot water.

*

After their shower, they sit in their robes and look out over London. Buck's leaned into Bucky's side, and Bucky's got his arm tight around Buck's shoulder.

Bucky strokes Buck's hair off his forehead and watches the furrow between Buck's eyebrows slowly deepen. He kisses the spot but doesn't ask what Buck's thinking about. He'll say it or he won't.

Buck turns and throws his legs over Bucky's lap. He scoots closer, wrapping an arm around Bucky's head and pressing his forehead to Bucky's temple.

"Can I tell you something?" Buck asks, the whisper barely carrying.

"You can tell me anything," Bucky says. He wraps his arm around Buck's calves, smiling when Buck turns his knees in a little so there's even more contact.

"My dad," Buck starts. He closes his eyes and sighs. "He taught me not to show affection. Not any kind. It could be used against me. Against him. If anyone thought I actually liked him, I might get taken for whatever he owed someone."

"Jesus Christ," Bucky breathes out.

"And I've tried to learn not to listen to the part of myself that learned that lesson. But it's hard. Especially when..." Buck opens his eyes and tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling. "We're in the middle of a war, John. One of us could get an engines shot out tomorrow--"

"Buck--"

"No. Shut up. Listen to me, okay. Just listen to me."

"Look at me at least," Bucky says. "If you're going to talk this shit, talk it to my face."

Buck sighs and meets Bucky's gaze. "It's not shit, and you know it. It's so bad up there you didn't even warn me."

Bucky winces but doesn't try to defend himself. Buck's right on the money, same as usual.

"We could die tomorrow, John. That's the truth. We both know it. And I--" Buck's breath shudders and he touches Bucky's neck, traces the shape of his ear. Presses his thumb to Bucky's mouth. Bucky kisses it, and Buck smiles, just a little. "I want to be better at this," he says. "I want to touch you all the time, but I also want to touch you all the time." He rubs Bucky's bottom lip.

"I hear you, Buck." Bucky says. "And I'm not kidding, okay? Whatever you can or can't do, just mean it. Just mean it, and we'll get on just fine."

Buck sighs and nods. He kisses Bucky, then rests his nose just behind Bucky's ear. "Whatever happens, John, just know I always mean it."

"Don't gotta tell me twice," Bucky replies, thinking of how often Buck's right at his side, leaned towards him with their arms pressed together. How often they're sat so their knees can knock. He thinks of the way Buck grabs his shoulder to steer him places, or just barely taps his elbow to get his attention. He touches Bucky all the time. Knowing he wants to touch him like this, all curled up on Bucky like he wants to fit exactly right in his lap, it takes Bucky's breath away.

"You know what? You don't ever have to tell me again if you don't want," Bucky adds, turning so his own nose is pressed against Buck's temple. "You're a man of your word, Gale. You ever change your mind, just say so."

"Don't think I could change my mind about you if I wanted to. "

And that warms Bucky from his head to his toes, that warm raspy voice rolling out a truth that makes Bucky feel ten feet tall.

"You're a maniac," Bucky says. "I fucking love you."

"I fucking love you, too," Buck replies.

Bucky dips his head down and kisses him, then leaves them pressed forehead to forehead, mingling their breath as they stay where they are, in a moment of bright and quiet happiness that Bucky swears he'll never allow himself to lose.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

When you have the same name and the same big bitch energy

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Hello!

Just saw your post about prompts… 👀

If you’re interested, I’ve been dying for a very particular Buck/Bucky fic, where, during the interrogation scene, the officer has Gale brought in to try and get answers out of Buck ✨

Im a sucker for the extreme angsty stuff, but other than that, I’ll leave the prompt broad and up to your interpretation!

Thank you! ♥️

(This went more "two Steve McQueens fight a couple nazis" and less "oh god why must I watch you be hurt" but I hope you enjoy! Personally, I think Buck's likely the shithouse crazy one of them when it comes down to it, and Bucky just tags along when it happens.)

[cw: blood mention]

After several minutes of going back and forth, the interrogator questioning and Bucky replying over and over with his name, rank, and serial number, the interrogator pauses, then says, "Well, let us try something else."

Bucky expects the man to stand up and threaten him. Instead, he pushes a button on his desk. There's a buzzing outside the office.

Bucky expects guards and guns, maybe a fight. He keeps his seat even as the door opens, ready to spring up if needed but trying to hold himself in check.

There's two sets of footsteps, and then Bucky looks to his left where they stop.

It's a guard, all right. And next to him, still in his uniform, is Buck. He's bruised and busted, though not as badly as Bucky. He's standing at ease, like he's not shocked to see Bucky.

But Buck looks not shocked to people who don't know him a lot of the time. Bucky, though, he can read that face like his favorite book. And Buck's face is stoic, but there's mayhem in his eyes.

"John Egan," Buck says, and Bucky leans forward, ready to go, "What took you so long?"

"Well, I had to come back from London, you know," Bucky replies. "Told you you should have come with."

"Maybe next time I will," Buck says. He licks the corner of his mouth where there's a spot of blood. He looks at the interrogator. "I suppose I'm here for a reason."

The interrogator smiles thinly. He rests on his desk and waves at the guard, who takes two steps back.

Stupid, Bucky thinks. Absolutely and fantastically stupid.

"Major Egan is not being forthcoming," the interrogator says. "And you have also not been forthcoming, Major Cleven."

"Attaboy," Bucky says in his most obnoxious drawl. It makes the interrogator glare at him. Perfect.

"If you think showing me Egan's alive is going to be make me cooperate with you, you're wrong," Buck says, cool as you please. He scratches his wrist. The guard behind him doesn't even twitch. Bucky catches the way Buck's hand doesn't fully uncurl when he drops it to his side again.

"What he said," Bucky adds.

"You Americans and your confidence," the interrogator says, looking like he wants to spit. "Always so certain you can't be stopped."

Bucky shrugs and slouches further in his chair. He finishes his cigarette, stares at the interrogator, and flicks the butt to the floor. The man's nostrils flare. "Buck, when we're out of here, I'm taking you dancing."

"You can try," Buck says, and Bucky moves at the same moment Buck does, grabbing the interrogator by the throat and snatching the letter opener off of the desk. He stabs him through the jugular, holding him up as he bleeds all over his pristine uniform.

He lays the interrogator on the floor and glances at Bucky. The guard's down, too. His neck slashed clean across. There's a razor blade with fabric wrapped around the dull side next to him.

"How'd you get a razor blade?" Bucky asks as he takes the interrogator's gun and knife and searches through his pockets. He finds money and a gold watch.

"They made me scrub their bathrooms," Buck says. "I think it was meant to emasculate me. I found it in the wastebasket."

"They didn't search you?" Bucky asks. He walks to the door and presses his ear to it. There's no noise outside.

"They're undisciplined," Buck says. "Not lazy or dumb, but undisciplined."

Bucky reads between the lines. It won't be easy or simple to get out of here, but the men here won't be expecting a fight. "It's quiet out there," he says.

Buck walks up next to Bucky and hands him a box of ammunition. He tucks two folders into his jacket, then tucks another two into Bucky's. They all have a large stamp on the front that seems to imply importance. "Where's your sheepskin?"

"Traded it out," Bucky says. "You hated it."

Buck stares at him for a moment, then pulls him in and kisses him. "You ever fly without it again, I'll shoot you down myself."

Bucky kisses back. "I'm telling Marge you paused my heroic rescue to kiss me like a bad movie."

"I'm telling Marge you were dumb enough to get captured," Buck replies. He pulls Bucky into a quick hug that Bucky happily returns. "Ready?" Buck asks, holding up the knife he's stolen. His gun's tucked into his waistband so he can grab the doorknob.

Bucky stands behind him, the knife in his right, the gun in his left. The box of ammunition in his pocket makes him feel lucky. The sharp concentration and determination in Buck's eyes makes him feel sure. "Let's get the hell out of here."

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Bucky calling Buck 'Gale' over the radio. The war's nearly over. He trusts they're done. He can take back his name, which he placed on Gale as a form of superstitious protection. If Gale had his name, Bucky can't ever be really lost, and neither can Gale.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

can i request a prompt for more buck/bucky smut with slight dom bucky vibes😁😁

[It didn't go full smut, but the intention is very obvious.]

"You're thinking too much," Bucky drawls in Buck's ear as they lie on the bed after their first bath in ages. Buck smells like good soap because Bucky bought it special for him to use.

"I'm thinking just enough," Buck replies and turns to meet Bucky's gaze.

"What's got you thinking?"

Buck gives Bucky a look that means 'the war we're about to fight you fucking idiot.' "Oh, this and that," is what he says.

"Well, you're definitely thinking about two much of one or the other," Bucky replies. He sits up and straddles Buck's lap, grabbing Buck's hands before he can touch him and drawing his arms up over his head.

"Something you want?" Buck asks when Bucky pins his hands to the pillow and leans in to kiss his jaw.

"Same thing I always want." Bucky kisses his neck, then his collarbone. "Your undivided attention."

"Oh, is that all you're looking for?"

Bucky meets Buck's eyes and leans so they're just nearly but not quite kissing. "Every goddamn minute of every fucking day, Gale."

Buck sighs at the use of his name, hips rolling. "Oh, you really want my attention."

"If it were up to me, we wouldn't leave this bed for a week," Bucky says. "And I'd suck whiskey out of this spot right here," he touches the dip in Buck's collarbone. Buck lifts his shoulders.

"You could do that now," Buck says, his voice a little thready. "I'll lie here all nice and still and let you drink whiskey off every part you've thought about."

Bucky bites his bottom lip and shakes his head. "Oh, do not tempt me. You'll be covered in hickies by the time I'm done."

"I want to be," Buck says. He gasps a moment later, clearly shocked by what he's said.

Bucky grins and licks his lips. "Want me to mark you up, Buck? Send you back to base covered in spots you can't hide in the shower? Let everyone see you've got someone who likes to make your skin extra-pretty with bruises?"

Buck doesn't answer for a moment. His arms are slack over his head. His cock is hard. His mouth is slightly open, and he's breathing harder than he needs to be.

"You say the word, and I'll sign my name all over your fucking body," Bucky says. He touches Buck's collarbone again, then drags his finger down to Buck's navel. "Drink it right from your belly button, but I'll leave the mark a little lower where it can't hide." He slides his hand to the side and presses into the little groove at Buck's hipbone. "Little drink here."

Buck squirms, opening and closing his hands. "Where else?" he asks.

Bucky stares at him, desperately in love. "The backs of your knees," he says. "The folds of your elbows. The dimples on your back. Maybe have you stand up so I can pour it down your ass and lick my way up."

Buck groans and throws an arm over his eyes. "Jesus, Bucky."

Bucky touches his thumb to Buck's lip. "And as the grand finale, I'd try to talk you into taking a little sip so I can suck it right off your tongue."

Buck lifts his arm and stares at Bucky. He reaches out to the bedside table and grabs Bucky's flask. "No," he says. "Start there."

Bucky can't move as he watches Buck unscrew the top of his flask. "What? Buck. You don't--"

"I won't be drinking it," Buck says. He presses the open flask to his bottom lip and licks the edge of the spout. He shivers at the taste of the whiskey, but he doesn't break eye contact. "You'll be drinking it. I'm just the glass."

Bucky takes the flask out of Buck's hand so he can lean in and kiss him hard. "You're not 'just' anything except mine."

Buck nips his lower lip. "Prove it." He opens his mouth.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

I am here for a power throuple. Bucky's all, "I didn't set it up right," and Marge is like, "Bitch. We are RIGHT HERE." And then turns to Buck and says, "Did you not tell him what I wrote you?"

"Honey, we were kinda in a POW camp."

"Oh, the whole time? The whole time you were? The entire time in England?" And Marge just sighs and throws up her hands and plants one on Bucky.

And Bucky's like, "Whoa! Wait! The bride kisses the groom! Not the best man!"

Marge rolls her eyes and looks at the ceiling and mutters, "Why must THIS be my type?"

Anyway, several hours of reassurance later, it's all fine. Life is good. Power throuple activated.

Ok fam, fandom, peeps, it’s time we step up and start writing Gale/Marge/Bucky. Come on, we’re better than this, we’ve been in the little leagues too long.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Taking prompts, eh?! Let's see....Bucky on a sports team of some kind and Buck shows up without fail to support his man without any knowledge of the game whatsoever, and everyone just thinks it's the cutest thing ever 😂

(No queerphobia here; just boys being boys and accepting of people in love; Buck's a captain here on purpose because they're in some nebulous point in training. That's right: No queer-phobia but I gotta be a factual dorkus somewhere.)

In training, there's intramurals. Basketball and baseball and football and even some track and field. A few of the fellas try to get Buck to at least run track, but he brushes them off.

He can't tell them the reason why. Just says they're not his speed and slips away. The answer is that his daddy bet on everything. Including him. And if he didn't win or take the fall? Hell to pay.

But Bucky. Bucky plays any sport he wanders by. He has perfect lay-ups in basketball and runs like a shot for baseball. In football, he's got the ability to plant himself and stay firm, no matter how large the guy trying to push through him.

And in track and field. Well. That's extra-special. He runs. He jumps. He does the hurdles and the pole vault. And Buck shows up to whatever game Bucky's playing because he finally gets to feel some of the joy of simply playing. Joy that Bucky brings to him at the end of the day, unabashedly dropping kisses onto Buck as part of his victory lap. Which is what it is even if Bucky's on the losing side. He's full of compliments on the team that beats him, and his love of the game as something to be loved on its own makes Buck feels safe. It always makes Buck think it's almost worth trying to play again himself. But there's the little boy part of him that simply can't do it again, and Buck is determined to listen to that kid in ways his father never tried to.

"Oh, Captain," Douglass says one day as Buck slips behind him to sit down at a track meet. "We made you a sign."

The boys delight in seeing him in the stands. When he misses games, he has to explain himself. How could he leave Bucky without a good luck charm? What sort of half-assed courtship was this? It always makes Bucky smile and laugh. It's like having a hundred brothers, and he loves them all.

Douglass's shit-eating grin gives him away even before Bucky unfurls the paper, but he makes a show of doing it slowly just to hear the giggles ramp up.

Marry Me, John Egan

There are hearts and flowers drawn around the edges. In the bottom corner, someone's done a caricature of Bucky and Buck. Bucky's flexing and blowing a kiss. Buck has heart-shaped eyes.

"Look, fellas, I'll ask him, but you know what a cad he is," Buck says.

The fellas laugh and agree. They laugh harder when Buck holds up the sign after the first pole vault and shouts, "EGAN! DO IT AGAIN, AND I MIGHT SAY YES."

Bucky reads the sign and laughs so hard he doubles over. "YOU FOOL!" he shouts back. "YOU'RE ASKING ME!"

"LOOKS MORE LIKE A STATEMENT TO ME," Buck says, craning his neck to read the sign.

"ALL RIGHT. FINE. I MAKE THIS ONE, WE'RE GETTING MARRIED."

The crowd cheers. The cheers get louder when Bucky clears the vault height like it's nothing. He jumps to standing on the bag and points towards Buck.

"YOU AND ME BUCK."

"YEAH YEAH YOU AND ME" Buck shouts back before he's utterly buried in a dogpile from the fellas. He grins to himself, wondering how loud the shouts are gonna be when the boys find out it happened weeks ago.