As Steve looked at Bucky's body, he thought, "That's the first time I've ever seen someone."
Bucky's broken arm gave Steve a strange ache. He'd chosen to hold onto the bloody piece of metal instead of throwing it out the window. It was a good idea because the cut would have been more severe if he'd thrown it out into the middle of a city.
Bucky left, and came back with his arm wrapped in a bandage. He said: "I am the guy who beat the crap out of Steve."
"Huh." Steve took a second to evaluate what was in front of him. It was very obvious that there was more about Bucky's body that had not been seen before. Because of Steve's technology, Bucky's body wasn't completely naked. His shorts, from right above his balls, to his calves, were slightly of shape, though the contents looked ordinary.
"What is wrong with your shorts?" Steve asked Bucky.
"I'm not sure," Bucky replied. "Something's wrong with them. Looks like I'll be spending a few days in the hospital after this."
"Are you sick of living?" Steve asked. "Every day, I think you're not dying, you look better than you have in years, you look like a different person. What's the matter with you?"
"I haven't gotten any better. It's just been getting worse," Bucky said, and this time his expression was pitiful for a moment.
Steve looked at Bucky once more, his eyes intense and piercing. "Don't forget to call that apartment," he said finally, the words slipping out on their own.
"Call what?" Bucky asked, scanning the equipment for his glasses.
"That apartment," Steve gestured. "Leave a message."
Steve handed his mobile to Bucky, who logged into his encrypted Whatsapp and sent a quick message.
'I've been thinking.' Bucky said.
"And?" Steve said.
"I want to make sure you're okay."
Steve glanced at his T-shirt, with a floating Steve Rogers in an oversized red cap and a Spider-Man pin in his ears. Steve was just wearing the "Bucky Bucky Bucky" shirts he'd found in a Salvation Army donation bin. Maybe because he could feel Bucky close to him, he decided to kiss Bucky.
He kissed Bucky on the lips, a little tongue at the front of his mouth. He knew it was just a little tongue, and he knew it wasn't anything special. But he felt Bucky, felt his lips on his, smelled his scent, and thought that was very nice. After awhile, just thinking about him in his bathrobe made his skin tingle with hunger. They stood, gazing into each others' eyes for several moments before they awkwardly moved on to the kitchen. When they were all ready to leave, Steve held out his arm and wiggled it in Bucky's direction to get his attention.
"We're getting some tuna," he announced.
Bucky looked at him for a moment before smiling and moving to the fridge. After he retrieved the tuna, he opened the freezer, looked in and pulled out a large box of the nice stuff.
Suddenly, Bucky saw that Steve had been hit by an electric shock, and a water stream burst from his left ear. He was clutching his left ear and couldn't hear, couldn't even move it, except with a squeak. Bucky whimpered and looked over his shoulder and saw Steve, with the water coming out of his ear, also clutching his ear, making his voice completely silent.
Bucky stopped whining and ran over to Steve. His ear was starting to water, his face a massive mess of wet. His eyes were sunken in his head. His shield had tragically detached itself, all across the room, so that it was now around his shoulders.
Seeing his friend lying on the floor, Bucky knew that Steve had taken a fatal blow. Enraged by this turn of events, Bucky killed him by sending Steve flying into a tree.
"I need to get ready to go," he said over the body. "I have to use the bathroom. I'd better see if Professor Peterson is going to be leaving yet."
Bucky was preparing to use the bathroom. He walked across the room, to a large white tent made of human skin and filled with peat moss, netting and animal fat. Bucky didn't know what it was for, but it was so big, all white. He entered the tent, pulled on his underwear and slipped into the shower. After a few minutes he looked down and saw what looked like his feet staring at him from the shower tub. The toes were barely larger than normal.
"What are they doing?" Bucky wondered. He started tearing off his T-shirt and stripmining his ass, ineffectively.
Some time later, Bucky was shocked to see a shadowy figure looming over him. The dark figure felt Bucky's anxiety, and quietly offered to _____ him. Bucky stared at his hand and realized that he'd already _____ a lot of people.
When he finally understood, the screams came. He ran through the hallway yelling "Ghost Lady!" But there was nobody there.
As Bucky tried to find someone to call, he grew aware of another voice coming from the pavement below. Peter Quill had appeared, and was, of course, holding a gun. But even more importantly, the gun was Mjolnir. More than that, Quill was holding a gun with Mjolnir over his shoulder.
"Looks like I'll have to share," Quill informed him. "Anybody else need to know the location of a bomb?"
Bucky stopped running so he could make a confused expression on his face. He stepped out of the building and into the chilly New England air, then raised his arms in a shrug motion and brought his hand down to touch the inside of his left iliac crest. His hand came away sweaty, damp and raw.
"I have it all planned," Quill said. "We'll meet up at the end of the night, beat a guy to death, and steal whatever magical items he has, then head back to Europe."
"Yeah, yeah,” Bucky said. He adjusted the straps on his backpack. “We can take care of it. Don't worry, they're here for your ass."
"What?" Bucky said. He reached out and touched Quill's nose, and then pulled out his ersatz lightsaber. "And I'm not leaving town, either. I'm going back to the Resistance base."
"What?" Quill exclaimed. He looked even more surprised than if he had just lost a sparring match against a worm. Worms were frightening opponents for a man of his age to face off against, but it was an instinctual thing for him. "You're flying to the Resistance base? Why the rush?"
Bucky laughed out loud, and Quill smiled a bit too.
"You know," Bucky said, "I've never told anybody that I ate people I loved. In fact, I've never told anybody that I've eaten anybody but myself.”
Quill glanced down at Bucky's shirt, as though to hide something. He fiddled with his own fingers. "Better?" he asked softly. "Did you know a man can feel things based on the vibration of his bone? Blood vibrates differently because it's filled with carbon dioxide, and does not absorb the solar radiation of the sun as other tissues. That's why it's soft and squishy."
Bucky nodded and swallowed heavily. "Soft and squishy," he said. "All the things you like. Think of me like a frisbee. It's small, and fragile, and so you'll feel big inside of me when you throw me. And then when you're done, you'll have fun playing with it. Well, the parts I like, anyway."
Quill blushed like he had a third nipple. He leaned forward and placed his cupped hands on Bucky's knees. "You got any tattoos?"
"Yeah. Tattoos and biographical information."
"Awesome." Quill leaned in to kiss his shoulder. The words came out of his mouth as if they were made of wet spaghetti, like pouring milk into a glass of vinegar. "You, me, and the last of the war is all we have to offer. The world needs a new Bucky."
Bucky sniffed and wiped his arm on the sleeve of his sweatpants. "Thanks."
Quill and Bucky kissed again, this time a lot tighter, catching the muscles in each other's necks as they did it. Their heads fit together like a pair of tiny spiky marbles. The comparison did not factor in how high their ligaments might go, and how much a typical human would weigh at the time his bones were calcified.
"That was amazing," Quill said when they finished kissing.
"Yeah, it was great, too," Bucky said, kissing him back. They both grinned at each other, Bucky's arm around Quill’s waist, ignoring the people staring at them from the side street. A couple of bikers fell to the ground in a heap, clutching their arm and legs.
"I can't believe you got to kiss Bucky," a young woman said from behind them.
Quill and Bucky ignored the interruption, because they knew they had every right to be there. They didn't care what anyone thought of them. No one had died yet.
The two men walked off, heading toward a friend's car to escape the hordes of Central American immigrants. It was time for them to travel to the Resistance base and start work on the giant robot arm.
To be continued...?