the barn dance

libbyangelofthelord  asked:

Steve and Bucky seeing what people call gangsters today and talk about the Irish and Italian mafia when they were growing up and how they got some money during hard times for doing some runs for the mafia

“Huh.”  Steve looks over to Bucky where he sits curled up in a deep, cozy papasan chair. “I don’t think we qualify anymore, Buck.”

Bucky hummed, cheeks stuffed full of popcorn.  

“I’m sorry, what?” Sam leaned forward in his seat. “You don’t qualify as what anymore?”  The anticipation on his face was incredible.

Bucky shrugged.  “’Snothin’. Steve n’I just did odd jobs back in the day.  Had to make ends meet, you know how it is.” 

Clint narrowed his eyes.  “Wait.  Waitwaitwait. Odd jobs.” He looked at the screen to the rolling credits of the movie they’d just watched and back to Steve and Bucky.  “Oh my God.  Is that your way of saying you were Old-Timey Gangsters?”

It was Steve’s turn to shrug.  “Not really.  Sort of. –I mean.  Officially, legally.  Illegally.  Yeah.”

Oh my God.”  Steve was pretty sure Sam was going to have a heart attack. “Why did I not know this?!”

Bucky wriggled around so he could face Sam better.  “It was prohibition for us.  People were still drinkin’.  Steve needed medicine and an honest job didn’t pay as much as we needed. So.”  He shrugged.

“So I managed logistics and Bucky did the literal heavy lifting. Not really that big a deal.” 

Clint was grinning a mile wide.  “This is so much better than I could imagine.  Steve, you had mob connections.”  

“Have.”

Bucky hummed.  

What?!”  Sam squeaked.  

Steve made a defenseless gesture.  “Families like that have long memories.  They know I’m alive.”  He nodded towards the bar.  “You think I buy my liquor?”

Bucky grinned.  “You always did ingratiate yourself.” He looked at Sam.  “He was their best-selling supplier Brooklyn had.  They owe him; he helped keep them in business long enough for for prohibition to end and for them to make real money.”  Bucky held up his glass and let Dum-E cart it over to the bar, smiling wickedly.  “Another whiskey.”  

Originally posted by itsagentromanoff

Originally posted by bigcaprogers

Originally posted by teenager-stuff

Originally posted by grysamobojcow

Originally posted by rafifahmed

Originally posted by concavepatterns

Originally posted by nessoverjoyed

Originally posted by dancebang

Originally posted by xarrowheartx

Originally posted by mephistoisback

Bucky teaching Steve to dance is one of my favourite things ;-;

“A Rare Instance of Seriousness” (1941)

One of Rebecca Goldstein née Barnes favorite photos of her brother James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes

This, along with many others was donated to the Smithsonian after Mrs. Goldsteins death in 1997

instagram

imsebastianstan: Hello. Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah!! Hope everyone is doing a little #homemovie inventory today. 🎄😜 Here’s my 1988 audition for CHICAGO.

😂😂😂😂 SO CUTE!!!!

save the last dance for me

its 8 o'clock on a summer day. thursday morning in fact. (post cryo) bucky hums to himself as he’s making french toast. as steve rounds a corner, he overhears. he knows this tune, they danced to it once - feet shuffling around on tenement floors. the worn sofa, the stacks of books - things relocated, music streaming through the radio. an open window in the heat of summer, the sound of new york traffic. they’d continued to sway long after the song ended; bucky smiling through kisses and singing off key.

(life was easier then, bright as the sun)

after, they’d eaten mediocre biscuits for dinner with a jar of homemade jam from an upstairs neighbor. steve remembers bucky wiping a smudge from the corner of his mouth and how it led to more for the first time. he recalls how emerging hours later to find that they’d forgotten to clean the kitchen. dirty dishes, sticky jam on the table, buckys jacket carelessly tossed on the back of the sofa; scenes from a life.

upon hearing this familiar tune it’s 1935 again and everything is right with the world. only…it isn’t. steve’s eyes begin to fill up with tears, bucky cannot know this. there’s a very slim chance of him actually remembering why the song stuck with him anyway. as such, steve throws a “going for a run, be back soon” over his shoulder and doesn’t wait for bucky to respond before he leaves. the last thing bucky needs is guilt that isn’t his to carry.

he returns some 3hrs later to find a plate of cold buttered toast lightly spread with blackberry jam waiting. the minute he steps through the door, it is thrust into his palms. buckys face lights up like a million starlights lighting the way home.

“you had jam….right,” he brushes a thumb along the outer left crease of steves lip. “…here.”

the sensation gives steve goosebumps; a long dormant sensory memory. bucky takes the plate before steve has a chance to eat the food. a prop then, a quiet unspoken way of saying, “I remember us.”

god, it hurts so good.

steve can feel the shift, the bridge lowering. the fog lifting from buckys eyes, the unoccupied metallic hand curling around his wrist; gentle. he is always so gentle.

steve closes his eyes, takes and breath and counts to ten. of all the things he has missed when it comes to bucky, casual stolen intimacy is the hardest. he misses kissing, skin to skin contact, misses tracing the shadows and angles of buckys body. seventy + years is a long time.

“why didn’t you tell me?,” bucky questions. his voice comes out hushed, cautious.

it’s hard, this. “you were wearing those ridiculous oven mitts that nat bought us last christmas and humming. you were burning the french toast in this kitchen, our kitchen. and I couldn’t, buck. I couldn’t take that from you.”

bucky scoffs, shaking his head. “I was humming it ‘cause I was hoping *you* would recognize it but I didn’t want to push in case you and carter were…you know. a couple. if…I’m wrong about her, I want this steve and I don’t want much in this life. heaven knows I never have. but it’s…you.”

steve takes both of buckys hands in his own. if steve could see himself he’s sure he’d recognize soft blue eyes from another life, staring back at a wide eyed bucky. he’d recognize that look.

“am I too late?,” he whispers.

“late? by seventy years, yes. too late? no such thing pal, not here. not with you.”

steve steps forward, dropping his head on buckys chest. it’s warm and solid, bucky is alive. this is real. it’s not the product of a fevered grief stricken nightmare, a ghost sent to taunt him with notions of what he could never have.

“hey buck?”

“hmm?”

“dance with me?”

buckys face splits into a wide grin that takes steve back to brooklyn, 1927. a sketchbook and bullies, buckys nine year old fists. home.

“thought you’d never ask.”

bucky takes steve in his arms and begins to hum.

there will be thousands of kisses, each one different from the last but for now there’s a dance that’s been 70+ years in the making.

youtube

Recovery Headcanon: Bucky is a classically trained ballerina.  During his time with the KGB, Hydra, and the Red Room the Winter Soldier was taught classical ballet; there’s a reason they use ballet as the root of their training.  It’s TOTAL control of your body. 

Its not only that ballerinas make the best assassins; anyone trained in ballet first can easily convert the motions to ass-kicking.  Its physically demanding on the body and takes a nearly inhuman level of discipline.   

The grace of the movements, combined with music, makes ballet the perfect “Assassins 101″ training.  Its easier to get lost into the movements, grueling schedules, and bare diets when you can escape into artistry of it.

Post Recovery, Bucky begins to remember.  Its not just muscle memory; the training comes back.  Always more creative than he let on, Bucky sneaks away sometimes to work on ballet routines.  Being able to work his body and mind gives him peace; its comfortable and he’s good at it, but using his control to make art instead of death is therapeutic for him.  He uses his routines to work through some of his emotions as well - a total outlet for physical, emotional, and creative control.

He’s extremely shy about it, however.  Part of it lingering form his 1930′s era machismo: only sissy girls are ballerinas.  His dancing is almost sacred to him; and something that he couldn’t stand Tony or anyone making fun of; even if they were doing so lovingly.

The other part is his shame of where the skills came from.  He’s come to peace with it, but he worries other’s wouldn’t understand: he learned ballet to become a deadly killer so why celebrate it?

I watch his video and I literally see Bucky dancing it.  The emotion, the grace, the song…everything about it screams Recovery Bucky to me.  Maybe he wrote it for Steve.  Will he ever show him?

10

Marvel | Random Gifs that Shows that Marvel Fans Does with a Hiatus. Part Three. Click for part 1 2 3

(Or Part 3 of Marvel gifs in which I sometimes question our insanity).

SPN Version

ImagineDaily Series Masterlist

Wake Up Call - Steve x reader x Bucky finished

Blame Me - Bucky Barnesfinished

Thighs of Betrayal - Bucky Barnes finished

Originally posted by littlemisssyreid

The Crown - Loki

Famous Last Words - Tony Stark

This is How We’ll Dance - Bucky Barnes