Stasis || Bucky Barnes (1)

Three

Basil stepped into the main tent to chaos. The men were all at their bunks assembling their gear and stuffing what they could carry into their bags. Chatter was softer today, not as loud or as lively as usual. He twisted himself round them and to his own bed. Barnes was folding a shirt, standing in the space between the cots. He looked up as Basil approached, uniform rumpled and dog tags dangling over his vest.

"Sarge, are we moving?" Basil asked. He had heard it from others int eh squad but wanted to confirm it himself.

Barnes nodded, expression grim. Basil wasn't quite sure how to act around him. The man had caught him kissing Palmer. But he was still here. Barnes has not reported him or thrown him out. He hadn't mentioned it at all in fact. The knowledge made Basil nervous. Maybe the man was holding for blackmail? If he was then he would find out that Basil would not play that game.

Basil watched as Bucky began to stuff the folded clothes into his backpack for a second before turning his attention to his own bunk. His small collection of battered novels were lying on-top of the folded blankets and pillows. Frankenstein, The picture of Dorian Grey, John Keats, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. Basil picked one up and thumbed through the worn pages. He was honestly surprised they had survived this long.

"Our orders came through. The 107th is marching out first light. Better get a move on Parrish". Bucky's voice made him jump. The man gave Basil a small smile.

Basil nodded and bent down to pull his bag from under the bed. The close quarters made his hip bump awkwardly against Bucky's. Basil froze for a second then immediately stepped back, pulling the bag with him. He set it on the bed and began shoving his books inside. Actions sharp with nerves.

Bucky opened his mouth, hands coming up in a calming gesture. "Hey, Hey. Parrish, calm". Basil looked up at him warily.

"Sorry". He muttered, stepping even further away so that he positioned right at the end of the bed.

Bucky sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look Parrish", he spoke lowly so that only them could hear it. "I won't do anything to you. What I saw does not matter. I don't care about it". His words were firm, a steeliness to his eyes that lit up with honesty. Basil made an effort to keep the genuine surprise off his face. Some of it must have shown through because Bucky's face softened.

"Have I ever told you about my friend Steve?" Bucky asked the sudden change in topic made Basil blink.

"No?"

"Well he's my child friend and roommate back in Brooklyn stands about five foot four and a hundred pounds soaking wet. Tiny little guy with a list of medical problems longer than my name. Scrappy though. Always getting into fights". Bucky laughed as he spoke, eyes glazed with nostalgia and something else. Basil swallowed. The look in Bucky's eyes was familiar. It was a deep longing. The want to be back home and away from the fighting. Basil had felt it enough himself.

"Is he like me?"

"No. But if I judged him by his differences, then it would be ridiculous of me to judge you by yours". Bucky met his eyes firmly and Basil caught the unspoken confession.

"Are you like me?" The words were barely more than a whisper. Slowly and not without breaking eye contact, Bucky nodded. Basil's shoulders sagged with relief and the fear seeped away. He smiled in thank you. It had taken great courage for Bucky to admit it. Basil admired that.

"So, you're from Brooklyn? What's it like?" Bucky smiled widely at the question. He turned back to his bag as Basil began packing again. He talked as the bags became full and they began getting ready for bed. He detailed the atmosphere of the New York streets. The nights he and Steve would spend at the movies or out dancing. There were many anecdotes about him and Steve causing chaos that had Basil cracking up.

He was just in the middle of a long amusing tale of Steve starting a fight with a guy outside a local diner. It had ended with Bucky having to physically pick him up and toss him over his shoulder to remove him from the situation. "For a little guy", Bucky chuckled as he watched Basil laugh. "Stevie surely has more balls than a lot of people I know".

Basil's giggles were muffled for a moment as he pulled off his shirt. "Reminds me of my little brother", he commented.

"I suppose Stevie is like mine. Known him since I was eight. How old is yours?"

"Fourteen", Basil replied. "I'm six years older than him. Always the responsible one". Bucky's smile faded as he took in Basil's face. "He's in the country somewhere in Scotland. His school evacuated from the bombing in London".

"What's he like?"

"A teenager. Grumpy, wild, irresponsible". Basil huffed as he got into bed. Bucky mimicking his actions in his own cot. "Angry at the world and the war. Hated the fact that I signed up. Didn't talk to me until the day I left".

"He must miss you".

"I hope so. I miss him".

"Did he get a long name as well?" Bucky joked. Basil coughed, smile returning.

"Oh of course. It's Phillip Ammon Parrish. My parents couldn't resist".

Bucky ticketed his head back in a loud laugh. Basil felt his own lips stretch was he watched. The other man's dark hair contrasting magnificently against his pale skin in the dim tent, lit only by the weak lamps dotted around. His blue eyes seemed deeper somehow, in the rapidly blackening tent. Basil wondered what made Bucky tick. This man was confusing and somehow he just couldn't figure him out.

"You guys have the best names", Bucky sighed, amusement still clear on his face. "Rich english folk".

"You should have seen the people I went to school with. Boarding school didn't have anyone with less than three names".

Bucky chuckled again. "Makes me glad I grew up in Brooklyn".

"What I wouldn't wish to have grown up there", Basil sighed. It took a sudden second of silence to realise that he had spoken out loud. "Oh, no, don't get me wrong. I am incredibly lucky. I've had chances most people haven't".

"You certainly have", Bucky's voice held a slight steel edge. He was a working class kid. Basil wanted to kick himself.

"I am just tired. Here, in this tent, none of that matters. Never mind my education or how rich my father is. It doesn't mean a thing to the Germans". Basil sighed and rolled onto his back, staring up at the grey canvas ceiling. Around him, there was the soft sounds of men snoring. Most of their tent mates having already fallen asleep. Basil ran a hand through his brown curls.

"But it was lonely. I haven't spent a whole day with either of my parents since I was fifteen. Endless expectations and constant backstabbing. Sly smiles and cutting comments. That's probably why my brother is so chaotic. I don't blame him. I wish I could act out like that. But no. I'm the oldest. The dutiful child. I envy your friendships Sarge".

Bucky regarded him for a long moment. Basil twisted to meet his gaze. Green eyes vs blue. Something in Bucky's gaze made heat what to flush across Basil's face. Breaking the connection, Basil turned back up to the ceiling. "Ignore that. It doesn't matter", he muttered, rolling so that his back was to Bucky.

"Get some sleep Parrish", Bucky's voice was soft. "We're moving stuff first light remember". There was a rustling of blankest as he shifted. Basil curled up into a ball and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to forget that little moment of vulnerability.