Don't you think you've had enough?, the Gale in his head says.
"Fuck off," Bucky says out loud.
Some people look at him funny, but really, they blur out anyway, so they don't matter. Another shot straight down his throat, and the world stops being so cynical, more soft. The lights dim themselves, and the room is bathed in this warm, whiskey glow.
He doesn't have to think about anything in this room. His heart is warm, and his laugh is light. Here, he won't have to feel the cold ring cutting into his hand, or the light way Buck said, "We'd be married, if you were a lady."
Another one. The shot glass hits the bar hard.
Maybe he's not that much better.
He plays darts, he makes jokes, and he sings badly with the music. It's late enough that everyone in the pub is mostly drunk, mostly noise. Bucky rises above it, allowing him to be the showstopper in this one room.
He can't stop smiling. His cheeks hurt with it. He can already feel everything start to hurt, everything that will hurt when this joyride ends. He's going to get a massive headache, and he'll be throwing up for hours tomorrow, but---
"No one I know knows each other as well as these two do," Bucky knows that no one on the planet will know Gale Cleven the way he does. No one will know him before, during and after the war the way he does. Marge may know him carnally, but Bucky knows his soul, and that's enough. That should be enough for him.
Bucky knows this, but when he saw Gale flinch at his words, he wondered.
And whenever he wonders, traitorous heart of his, he's set up for nothing but failure.
He stands up off his chair, and sways too much and gets knocked straight to the ground. That's going to bruise.
A lady tries to help him up. "Are you okay?"
He grins up at her, eyes so heavy lidded they're practically closed. "Can't even feel it."
AN UPDATE to our e-sim drive, we've now raised $7500! People in Gaza still need e-sims and support urgently!
Right now, you can still get art from members of the Cartoonist Cooperative in exchange for e-sim donations! Find out more at the linked website!!!
Art @meghanlands
the way the house writers wrote in kutner’s death is still so fucking funny to me. kal penn went to work for obama and instead of having literally any normal reaction the writers went “let’s kill him”
platforming palestinian joy is just as important as sharing the suffering they're enduring during this genocide. despite continued displacement and bombardment, you cannot steal their joy and spirit. happy birthday to this sweet baby 🖤🇵🇸 may they grow up to see a free palestine
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