sixthiterationlogs | Nosferatu WW2

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Nosferatu WW2

WHO: (Who is making the post)
WHERE: Room2 a la Inn
WHEN: June 6, early evening.
OPEN TO: Sam Moon
WARNINGS: Mentions of gore / vampire related things / involuntary medical procedures, etc. Adult themes and sexual content.

Just as his text implies, Bucky Barnes' door is, for once, left open just a smidgeon. Cracked half way to allow for someone to see in, to see him settled in one of the chairs before the (empty) desk provided with the room. The layout is otherwise neat if largely empty; the bed is made with military corners, there are no personal affects aside from clothes tucked into drawers and random books taken from storage to pass the time. He's vacantly thumbing through one when Sam arrives, an he offers her a smile more resembling a grimace when she arrives.

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There has been a distinct lack of chicks or dudes throwing themselves at him, either in America, Wakanda, or here. It's probably all justifiable, in America he was a terrorist with a hundred kills to his name basically. In Wakanda he was the broken white wolf, the sad expression in the fields with one arm and a reputation for having a broken brain, formerly thought to have killed the fucking king of the entire country. Here, well, he's only been here a little while. Maybe things will change.

So far he's already gotten a boner and a kiss, so line is already curving upward on the graph.

He meets her smile with a small, tentative one of his own. Something earnest and tired, something raw but guarded.

"Same time next week," Is all he says in turn, the slightest trace of amusement lacing the statement.

Sam shook her head. "I'm not sure that's a good idea, Blue." There were the obvious dangers. And something else she couldn't entirely articulate. It was just that fucking, flashing neon sign in the back of her head, getting brighter and brighter the longer she stood there, trying to read it.

Damn it, why were people so complicated?

...because they were people. But that kind of circular logic was headache-inducing.

She took a deep breath. "I appreciate what you did for me so, so much. It's...it's more time. And who doesn't want that?" She was still too young to be tired of living. No matter how much the village frustrated and antagonized her. "But I don't want to get in the habit of taking advantage of you."

He could disappear.

She could accidentally hurt him.

Fuck, he could get addicted to the Kiss.

No. No, the variables in this experiment were ugly. And unlike certain vampire scientists, she had actual morals.

It'd been as much a joke as it had been a serious offer; he doesn't see the issue with it but he also has a reckless sense of self-sacrifice. He's got a layer in him that thinks that if anybody were to get hurt or die doing this, it may as well be him rather than someone innocent. Thinks better himself than her, thinks he's both more capable and more expendable simultaneously.

But he isn't about to push the point. Sam is her own woman, capable of making her own decisions, logical enough to have reasons for not wanting to repeat the experiment. Besides, they've hashed most of this out already, and so he just shrugs.

"Your call," He relents passively, eyes fixed on her. "But if you change your mind? If you need me? You know where to find me."

Even though she called him Blue. He'll let that slide without commentary.

"Yeah, we're neighbors."

They were fucking neighbors.

Okay, okay, that was a useful kick in the pants. Sam had a talent for making things more awkward than they needed to be. And she knew it. She was self-aware. But the last thing either of them needed was to feel uncomfortable in their own home.

To say nothing of Sam feeling constantly uncomfortable in her own skin.

So...fix this. She needed to...

"I'll tell you what," she said, backing up a few steps to the door. "Why don't you stop by my room next week? See how you're doing. See how I'm doing. Go from there?" That was reasonable? Wasn't it?

And she kind of liked the idea of having something to look forward to in all of the monotony of her endless days and nights.

He huffs out an amused snort of a laugh at the observation. Yeah, okay, true, granted what he'd said was more a figure of speech than anything, but she's not wrong. He smooths his hair back absently with a metal hand, scratching at the back of his head with hard fingertips.

"Which room are you?" Had she mentioned it before? Normally his memory is spot-on, but whether it's the lightheadedness from the blood loss or she just never mentioned it he isn't sure. Either way, he likes the idea. A check-in, and if she's got another source, fine. If not, well, she'll probably be more amenable to repeat the experience if she's on an empty stomach.

He doesn't hate the idea of moving this event out of his own room either, he likes the concept of retreating to solitude after... the side effects of her ordeal.

Inexplicably, she was beginning to feel a little better. Maybe it was the laugh or maybe it was because her insides were gnawing at her like so many teeth any more. Or maybe she was just tired.

"Room 3," she said, pointing to the wall the two of them shared. Shit. She wondered if he ever heard her screaming at night. The nightmares had been coming a lot more frequently since March or April.

Sam cleared her throat. "The one with the skyline of Chicago drawn on the door." She knew it was probably bad form to draw on the outside of the door. But no one had complained to her so far. And she liked the idea of seeing the Sears Tower (it would never be the fucking Wallis Tower) when she came in.

Almost like going home.

Where the nightmares lived.

...so much for feeling better. But at least she didn't feel hungry. That was progress.

His eyebrows shoot up and, okay, that's something he should have fucking pieced together himself before now isn't it? To be fair, he never saw her come and go out of it, probably due to his crack-of-dawn schedule and his creeping around like some sort of silent barefoot ninja. A startled laugh falls out of his mouth, something incredulous and ridiculous. Coincidence? Maybe.

So far he hadn't heard her screaming, hadn't heard a peep, though to be fair the risk is just as high that she'll hear him one day. Since he's been here he hasn't had any strapped to a chair getting his brain fried by hydra nightmares, or any accidentally stabbing Steve in the face ones either. It as inevitable, though, he rarely went a full two months without one.

Should be interesting.

"Long walk," He comments dryly. At least it'll be a convenient check-in.

He had no idea how long a walk she'd made it on her way over. But she decided not to mention that, when she heard his laugh.

There was a weird sense of pride and accomplishment that flushed through her chest. She'd been the one to make him laugh. And more than once in a day.

Something told Sam that was a feat.

"Yeah," she said, "Well, make sure to call ahead, Blue. So I can hide the dancing boys." She turned the knob on his door, taking a step out into the hall. "Tap an S-O-S on the wall."

It's definitely a feat of some kind, laughs are few and far between from Bucky Barnes. Something about the unfiltered and relatable nature Sam carries around her seems to shake them out of him like apples from a tree. And there she is, calling him blue again, getting an exasperated but somehow already fond shake of his head.

"Don't bother, we could use the company," is all she gets, mischievous in his tone and in the look in his eye. "Just don't give them my address when the party's over."

And on that note, he'll shut the door. Always good to leave on the last word, especially if it's a terrible, terrible joke.

Now that was her signature move. Leaving with the last word. Sam found herself staring at the door for a second trying to parse out that last bit.

Had that ended well? She honestly wasn't sure.

Playing with one of the pins in her hair, she shuffled back to her room, quietly shutting the door. "What the fuck?" she muttered to herself. Because, seriously, what the fuck?

In the end, she could only chalk up the whole experience to 'people are weird.'

But all the same, a few minutes later, when she crawled into bed, she had to cover her face with her pillow to stifle a loud groan.

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Nosferatu WW2

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And I JUST realized they're literally next door...

LOL WHAT shit okay

Future nightmare funtimes ahoy

exactly what I was thinking.

Yaaaaaaaaaaaas :D