snowblindrpg | [log] caught in a snowdrift [closed]

Entry tags:

[log] caught in a snowdrift [closed]

Characters: Flynn and Bucky
Location: Between houses
Date: Day 380
Summary: Flynn gets caught in a snowdrift, Bucky helps, they bond
Warnings: None

[Bucky had really thought that Flynn wouldn't come back, he'd stick with his other friends and his woman, so why had he come back? Bucky isn't exactly a personable travelling companion, he's quiet a lot of the time and doesn't invite confidences, but somehow Flynn isn't put off. It's made him thaw just a little, in small ways, like turning his back while they're travelling without worrying that Flynn might plant a knife in it.

Turns out, turning his back was a bad idea.

There's a crunch and soft thwump of snow, and when he turns around Flynn is half buried under deeply compacted snow. He's not sure whether to be annoyed, concerned, or laugh. In the end, he goes for a mixture of the first two, walking back a couple of paces and looking down.]

You okay?

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[It happens very fast, as it usually does with these things.

After the impact that kind of leaves him winded Flynn can immediately feel the cold. At first he doesn't feel anything else except maybe annoyance; Flynn is really sick of falling in the snow and getting buried by random avalanches. God, if Peter hears that he got stuck under one of those again he will never hear the end of it. Good thing he's with Bucky. That exponentially increases his chances in keeping the incident secret, maybe.

Adrenaline pumping he can't feel all that much pain yet and it hasn't occurred to him that this one here might be a little worse than last time. Which had been a close call, too, but mostly embarrassing.]

Yeah, I'm...

[There's a grunt and some wiggling, or at least the attempt, if the pathetic jerking of his upper body is any indication.]

... Stuck, very stuck.

[He glances up at Bucky sheepishly. Sorry.]

[At least he doesn't seem to be hurt, if the way that he's not yelling in pain and his expression also seems to be erring towards embarrassed rather than distress. That's good, it'll make this easier, and they need it to be as easy as possible if they're going to still make shelter by nightfall.]

Can you move at all?

[He sighs and kneels down in the snow beside Flynn, feeling the top of the compacted powder to see just how much trouble they might be in.]

What even happened?

N-no. It's really heavy.

[He tries again and pulls a face.]

I don't know. I don't think I stepped on something but maybe I did? It just... all shifted and fell down on me all of a sudden.

[There's a pause and the first hint of unease in his voice.] Can you get it off?

[He catches the unease and it softens his irritation a bit. Has he been such a jerk to Flynn over the past few days that he thinks Bucky might just abandon him here in the snow?]

I'm not gonna leave you.

[He'll get it off.

He moves properly to Flynn's side and starts to carefully dig with his hands.]

Keep talking, don't focus on the cold.

[He pulls a face.]

Why would you mention the cold if you don't want me to focus on the cold? Now I'm focusing on it. You know, I am really, really sick of the cold. It's like that time I traveled in the Himalayan mountains but that was just one trip, not months and months of this freezing wasteland. I've always preferred going to the warm places. The Amazon. Africa. Italy. Even Northern Europe was better than--nnnngh!?

[Some of the snow shifts and Flynn gasps when a sharp pain shoots through his body. His hands claw into the icy ground and his eyes widen in pained surprise.]

You'd... think that would hurt right away.

Damn it.

[The words are muttered as his fingers freeze where he's been digging at the snow, attention shifting entirely to Flynn's face. Delayed pain isn't good, it likely means shock set in before that, which probably means something serious. A broken bone, maybe? A deep gash? Impossible to tell beneath the snow.]

Breathe through it; hey, focus. Focus on me. Where does it hurt?

[Breathing? Breathing, yes, that's a good plan, he breathes, his cheeks puffing.]

Unngh, I'm good, I'm good. I think it's my leg. Or my side. Or maybe both? Might be a rib. God, I hate snow. And avalanches. And hiking, why is that such a thing here? Or anywhere, really, like can you believe people are doing that for fun, that just never made sense to me...

[He hopes it's the rib rather than the leg, because at least then Flynn can still walk. Either is bad, but being unable to move in this landscape is a death sentence just as much as a slit throat, it just takes longer to die.

He straightens up to look over at the horizon, gauging how much sunlight they've got left to work on this before it becomes pointless.]

I used to hike out into the woods for fun, was like going to a whole different world after the city.

[He goes back to digging again, going for a wider circle around Flynn to keep from accidentally hitting him.]

Really? Like by yourself?

[It's good to have something else to focus on and Flynn latches onto the opportunity immediately.]

Where are you from anyway? I don't think I've ever asked you. I never left the city before I became the Librarian and all that walking through forests and jungles and tundras really took some getting used to.

Brooklyn, New York.

[He's not entirely sure if Flynn is from an earth like his, with the same cities and counties, sometimes he seems like he's entirely alien and other times he seems pretty similar.]

But I've lived a lot of places, so I'm used to a lot of different types of scenery.

[He digs in closer to the left, brow furrowing as he tries to figure out exactly what angle Flynn's limbs are at.]

What, Brooklyn, really? [Despite the pain his face lights up for a moment there.] No way, me too!

[Surprise! Two kids from Brooklyn in the snow, what are the odds?]

So you moved a lot? Because of... [Oh.

He trails off, his voice turning awkward.] Because of your work?

[Whoa! The surprise of that has Bucky's expression shifting from concern to muted pleasure, it's always good to meet someone who recognises Brooklyn. But the comments after, the deductions of why he knows so many places, that's not as good.]

I saw a lot of places before that.

[Not as many, but it's less awkward to talk about those years. He's still private about it, but Flynn's earned enough trust to get a few bits and pieces.]

I was in the war, shipped out to Europe, so I travelled then.

[The war? Which war? Which war would ship him out to Europe, that doesn't add up, except...]

What, like... wait. Wait, you're from-- when are you from?

[Ah-- some mistakes have been made there. That's a complicated question, and it might get murky fast because he's fairly sure that the place Flynn saw him in the dreams had been at least the sixties, if not later.

He could lie, say Afghanistan or Iraq to bring him to modern times, but that still wouldn't explain what was seen before. So he's going to have to go with the truth. Idiot, Barnes, you and your big mouth.]

They call it the second world war now, fighting Hitler, that war.

So you're a time traveler?

[The excitement is real and he tries to move and-- falls back groaning, muttering something like badideabadidea, taking a couple of deep breaths.]

My dad fought in that one. [He hesitates. It's a long shot, but...]

You don't... happen to know a Carsen from Brooklyn by any chance? He was a clothes salesman. Before the war, I mean.

[His jaw clenches a bit and the way his brow furrows probably tells Flynn that time traveller isn't exactly correct. Especially when he takes the avoidance by latching onto the second question and only answering that.]

No, sorry.

[Maybe he did and he's forgotten, maybe.]

A lot of fellas from Brooklyn ended up in that war, I hope-- I hope he made it back.

Oh, he did, or I'd be in trouble.

[Flynn chuckles weakly but that hurts so it quickly trails off. He's trying to keep his teeth from chattering too much but the cold is really starting to crawl into his bones. Talking. More talking is good, talking keeps him warm.

Well, he can pretend it does.]

He was in the n-navy. M-met my mom during one of his s-shore leaves. I d-don't remember much about him but he used to go to the beach with me and... and fly kites.

[Ah, not good.

The shock's obviously worn off, which means that Flynn has to be in pain now. He's clearly suffering from the cold, but at least he's not yet so cold that bits of him have started to go numb, so in that regard he'll take the chattering teeth as a good sign.

For now.]

Navy, huh? Sorry about that, must be a real burden to have someone be from the navy in your family. Navy sucks.

[He doesn't really mean that, he's never had proper contact with the navy, but his memory is supplying him with a few flashes of field surgery before this, and how indignant humour seems to help. Seems to make things more bearable.

He dumps his pack on the ground and digs around in it, looking for the fireplace grate, the rope, and the poker. He can lash them together to make a shovel, it'll be better than his hands.]

Y-you suck.

[Flynn shoots back without thinking, glad to have something to focus on. He'll take banter any day every day over his body trying to get his attention with the big pain hammer.]

B-bet a n-navy man stole your g-girl. A-and danced with her and you s-stood there in the corner all grumpy w-wishing you had a fl-flashy uniform like that.

You're kidding me, right?

[He lashes the two pieces of metal together with the competent efficiency of someone who understands knots and rope very well. He also smiles, even if it doesn't reach his eyes.]

I had all the girls dancing with me, always first on everyone's card.

[He has to laugh at that.] Does t-that mean you stole a navy man's girl?

[Ugh, why does laughing hurt, it's not fair. He's trying to distract himself here.]

I used to be really... really bad at dancing, nobody w-would dance with me at my prom, not even my mom? N-nicole taught me the waltz on our first mission. We had to dance through some timed death traps in that Mayan temple...

[You know. As you do.]

[Somehow this doesn't surprise him, Flynn was running through a booby-trapped temple in the memory that he had seen, and he seems like the kind of idiot who would waltz through danger.]

The waltz wasn't really my scene.

[At least, the few memories he has are of smokey dance halls and lively music, not really conducive to ballroom, more swing and jive.]

Hey-- I need you to keep real still from now on, okay? I don't wanna hit you with this thing. Keep talking, keep focused, just don't move.

Okay.

... Why? What are you gonna do? What are you trying?

[His eyes shift and he tries to catch a glimpse at Bucky's metal contraption without moving his head too much.]

Maybe you should talk me through it...

I'm going to dig you out, we don't have a lot of time to waste if we're still going to make lockdown.

[He digs the end of his makeshift spade into the snow and starts to shovel hard.]

Focus on something else.

'Focus on something else'? Like what? I spy with my little eye and it's white and cold?

[He's really trying not to panic here but it's getting harder and harder and that better not be the sun setting in the distance.]

... Look, you... if it takes too long you... you gotta go.

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