Bucky and Steve were making their way up the winding rivers of Venice on their vintage boat, insisting on soaking up the rare rays and the prevalent culture unavailable elsewhere. They clumsily paddled up skinny streams and wide lengths, bashing into other boats, splashing tourists and cursing past the buildings on stilts.
Everything looked ancient, the wood rotten with green mould, being eaten by the eroding tide and aged by the unforgiving years. They trawled past crammed piazzas, inhabited by flocks of fat cooing pigeons and swarthy Italians; burbling in their rowdy and harmonious foreign tongues.
Washing lines crossed overhead, clothes dangling between two houses like a tight rope act. Bridges drew shadows over the body of water at regular intervals and houses were terraced either side, crammed together like passengers on a train.
Smells of aromatic herbs and spices filled their nostrils as well as the stench of animals. Smells wafted from open shutters and farmers markets located in the open squares.
"When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that's amore!" Bucky belted out at the top of his lungs, disturbing the tranquility with his boastful American voice.
Bucky was swaying and wobbling like he was on a seesaw, standing on the plinth at the back of the barge, attempting to punt along the narrow stream in Venice with a rod double his size.
"When the whole world-ah-" Bucky tittered squeakily, gripping onto the slimy wooden pole for dear life as the boat tipped and sloshed. "Shines..." He dug in the stick and kicked the boat off the river bed with a thrust of the arms. "Like you've drunk too much wine..." He opened his arms and gestured to Steve.
"That's amore!" Steve cackled, being sprayed by the sloshing water that splashed over the side as the boat rocked. He was smacked in the mouth by a ripple of water and sputtered noisily and gargled out a laugh.
"For a pair of pensioners, you two really don't act like adults," Natasha grumbled over the communications line.
"Where's the fun in acting like adults?" Bucky choked around a laugh.
He powered up stream, propelling himself with the stick as fast as he could, digging it into the riverbed and pushing away from it. They raced upstream, ripping through the water, carving a frothing 'v' shape in their wake. He ruddered them along by swishing the punt from side to side like a rudder.
As Bucky went to shove it in once more, the pole twisted and lodged in the gap. But the boat continued to move. Bucky grappled for it, reaching and leaning and they soared away.
"I lost the thing!" Bucky cackled, reaching and flapping his hand like the scene from 'Castaway'.
Steve, leisurely draped in the cushioned belly of the boat, chortled and snickered until tears were running down his face. He was pointing lamely and clapping like a seal whilst wheezing out pug-like laughs.
"It's not funny you jerk!" Bucky insisted, trying to complain between sobbing laughs. "It's- I don't know what..?" He held his hand out longingly as they drifted further. He made frustrated growling noises as he grovelled with the air, trying to claw his way back.
"Bucky!" Steve's voice suddenly had a ring of urgency between the staggered laughs.
"I know, I know!" Bucky whined, complaining and fuming in defeat.
"No Bucky, there's a bridge!" Steve insisted.
Bucky pivoted and came face to face with a low wooden bridge. He took cautionary steps back, the boat tipping and slipped onto his butt, feet whizzing out from beneath him on the wet deck.
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Who Am I? » [Stucky]
FanfictionSet after Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Bucky is lost, without a purpose and brainwashed within an inch of his life. S.H.I.E.L.D and Hydra have both fallen and without anyone to stop him, Bucky intends to find out who he is - or who he was...