Daily Archives: 04.08.2016

“Hey, 6B.” – chapter 7.

Story Summary: Bucky is on a Mission: Find out about his past and try to remember the Man in Blue. His “mission” takes him to Boston where he meets the fun and flirty, Colin Shea. With Colin’s help, he might just find all the answers he’s been searching for…but he also might find love. With outside pressures, Bucky has to decide between remaining in the dark and staying with Colin or going after the man who haunts his nightmares.

Crossover: What’s Your Number? meets Captain America: Winter Soldier/The Avengers/Captain America: Civil War (more the movies and less the books or graphic novels)

Rating: R if this was a movie. MA if it was a TV show. Mature on Archive of Our Own. Not rated on Tumblr. There is some LGBTQ/slash sexual situations, though nothing erotic. It’s a simple Rated-R romcom. No porn. (Think along the lines of Wings meets Love, Darrows, kiTT.) As Cap would say: Language! Because yes, there is some language and double entendres. Not so much violence as of now.

Genre: RomCom/Action

Chapter word count: 1,668

Characters: James “Bucky” Barnes, Colin Shea

Disclaimer: All characters belong to their original creators. There is no copyright infringement intended. This is all done in fun and love for my favorite movies. Thank you for stopping by and reading.

Notes:  Chapter two of two for today. There have been questions plaguing my mind about What’s our Number? One of them is related to “Julie from college” who, in the movie, Colin found and said she’s a dude who looks like a cute Ralph Macchio. It’s comments he made (and similars) that has me thinking Mr. Colin Shea wouldn’t be to objective to a fling with a man. Part of the driving force behind my story. I love him no matter what he does. He’s a proud manwhore and I love him for it. Total inspiration for this chapter:

Colin: (sing-song) I got Charlie Chang’s.

Ally: Did you get the Itty-Bitty Spareribs?


7.

 

“So all you have is a name and some obit information mentioning him dying during World War II?” Colin asks.

I pace on the other side of the short table from him in the small space he’s designated as the living room for 6A. “James Buchanan Barnes. Died in Germany behind enemy lines in battle. That’s all it said in the newspaper archives in DC.” All I had time to find, anyway.

Click-clack-clack-click-click. Colin’s fingers obliterate the letters on his laptop. “Okay, Google is giving us quite a bit. It says he was an Army Sergeant in the 107th infantry during the war. He became a member of The Howling Commandos.” Colin’s finger slides around the rectangular space below the letters. He stops and taps the square. “Whoa.”

“What?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you bear a striking resemblance to James Barnes? Come here and see, Buck.”

“Well, he was my grandfather.” The well-rehearsed lie quickly stumbles from my mouth as I sit beside Colin on the couch. I lean forward, elbows on my knees, to remove the glare covering half the picture. The black and white image of a dirty James Barnes sits center screen. In all appearances, we could be twins if we weren’t the same man. Memories of the old me feel forever lost in a fog, doomed to never resurface.

My eyes are glued to the man next to him wearing combat fatigues and a helmet. He’s facing away from the camera, staring at me. I can just get a small hint of his nose, his strong jaw, his height. Everything about him feels tense, though the edges of my mouth in the image are soft as though a smile wants to break through. I’m staring at him as though he’s everything in the world to me. Like in another moment, I’d hug him close and never let him go. More memories I’d kill to retrieve.

“Here he is with the Commandos.” He clicks the square again and sits back when the image fills the screen. “I wouldn’t want to be on his bad side. He looks deadly.”

I lean in and study my comrades. I couldn’t name a single one of them if my life depended upon it. “Definitely deadly,” I agree.

Colin leans forward and clicks on the red dot above the picture. It goes away and he types “Howling Commandos” into a box. After a quick click on the square, a long list of information fills the screen. Colin chooses the third one.

“The men who formed The Howling Commandos were prisoners of war, kidnapped by HYDRA and believed to be experimented upon,” Colin reads. “HYDRA’s top scientist, Zola, was believed to have experimented on the men, though the facts are sealed and remain vague.”

“Mr. Barnes, you will be HYDRA’s best soldier. At least that’s our goal. The last lab rat wasn’t a successful test, but we learn from our mistakes, correct?” Zola’s Swiss accent was thin, his glasses thick. “Initiate test two, subject: Barnes,” he yells at the nurse.

Colin’s fingers snap in my face. “Buck? Are you okay? Where did you go?”

I think to a past memory. “Sorry. Just a little tired. What were you saying?”

“There’s an exhibit about the Howling Commandos on loan from the Smithsonian at the World War II museum in Natick. That’s just west of here. We could go.”

“I guess we could.”

“Okay, Buck. We’ll make plans to go out tomorrow.”

“Why can’t we go now?”

Colin stands and stretches his arms over his head. The bright green Celtics t-shirt lifts up with the motion, exposing his abs and quite the happy trail tumbling down to his Calvin Klein band. He watches me stare at his…stretching…and says, “Because tonight, we’re watching Mexican Wrestling on pay-per-view and ordering Charlie Chang’s Itty-Bitty Spare Ribs, extra mustard and duck sauce.”

#

“What about this Steve Rogers guy?” Colin asks around the lump of spare rib in his cheek.

My heart skids to a stop. “What about him?”

Colin points at the images congesting his computer screen. “It seems that every picture of James Barnes, with the exception of his military enlistment photos and the public Howling Commandos images, includes this man, Steve Rogers.” Colin turns his attention to me. “We’re they secret lovers or something? Is he like your other grandfather? Because, let me tell you, that guy has a nice caboose worth fighting for.”

Could say the same about him. “Does it say anything in the Google about them?”

He snickers and mumbles, “The Google,” then shakes his head. “It only mentioned them being childhood friends. But something tells me there’s much more to their story.”

I want to ask, “Like what?” but I don’t think it would come off as a general curiosity. I’m overly anxious to know how he and I are related. More than curious to know why, if we were so close, I don’t remember a thing about him.

“Egg roll?” Colin asks, holding one my way with his chopsticks.

“Sure. Extra mustard, please.”

I take the egg roll and hold it out as Colin spoons a dollop of mustard on the tip of it. “That’s the best part,” he says. The spoon drops into the mustard filled container. “We could also check to see if any of these guys are still alive. Dum Dum Dugan can’t be that difficult to find. And ‘Frenchie’ Dernier isn’t that common of a name. We could look them up.”

Though I know less of them, I agree. “Anything that can help.” I take a bite of the egg roll. My tongue burns when the mustard lands on it. I grab my beer and guzzle some down.

He stuffs another small spare rib into his mouth and hops up from the couch. The board gets a once over and a huff. Colin picks up the eraser and swipes it clean, then uses the black marker to make more notes near “Julie from college” in the bottom corner, writing “4D, dog” and “2C: Co-something” then outlining it with a box.

“Okay. We have James Buchanan Barnes.” He writes my name in the center of the top of the board with the black marker in all caps. He presses the lid on with a click. The blue marker is chosen next. “Read me the names of the Howling Commandos. I know Dum Dum and Frenchie, but the rest.”

As he writes the two names on the board, I read the others, “Private James Morita, Lieutenant James Falsworth, and Private Gabriel Jones.”

He spaces the names around the board like numbers on a clock, mine at twelve. He caps the blue marker and picks up the red and draws red lines and arrows, connecting names. He draws a rectangle around my name, repeating the process until there are four or five in the space. He adds a red star next to it and says, “Dad would be proud.”

The marker lands with a clunk in the tray and he turns to me, hands on his hips. “I’m going to dig up what I can about these men while you’re at work tomorrow. If any of them are alive, maybe we can set up an interview with them. Someone is bound to remember dear old grandad, right?”

I hope.

“Then I’ll meet you at Latte and we can head out for the museum.”

“Can’t wait,” I say. “But shouldn’t I come back here and change?”

Colin’s gaze walks all over me, from head to toe. “No offense, but I sort of like you in your black coffee get up, Buck.”

Note to self: I am a soldier on a mission. There is no room for smiles.

Except I smile like a teenager who was just told his crush loves him, full of attitude and pride. “I think you like the free stuff that comes with it.”

Colin sits beside me on the couch. He leans towards me, until his face is mere inches from mine. Those dark eyebrows lift and he says, “I like friends with benefits.”

Note to self.

I inhale his soap mixing with the scent of spare ribs and beer on his breath. “So that’s all I am to you? Free coffee?”

“Buck, benefits doesn’t necessarily mean coffee.” He draws out every word, giving each one a whole new, slightly lurid meaning. His blue eyes are alight and a small smirk dances along the left corner of his mouth which in turns speeds my heart and flicks on the desire.

I know it’s my crotch’s wishful thinking again. The fact Colin’s overly flirtatious doesn’t mean he’s interested. I don’t even think he’s been with a man before. Therefore, not interested in being with me. I take his words and remove the implication, leaving behind the bare, playful meaning.

“You’re right. There’s pastries, too.”

Colin’s playful smirk morphs into a pressed lip smile. He nods and rights himself. “Yeah, pastries are good.” He closes out the images and information on the computer and asks, “What time are you off tomorrow?”

“Eleven.”

“I’ll be there at 10:30. If you give me your clothes, I can bring them and you can change before we leave.”

I stand and stretch. “Thanks for everything, Colin. Sorry we missed out on the Mexican wrestling.”

“That’s okay, Buck. We got busy…” His face stills and his body stiffens. He hastily adds, “…researching the mission at hand.” He grabs the empty food containers littering the table, lining them up between his arm and his chest. I offer to help and he snaps, “I’ve got this. I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Okay. Good night, Colin.”

He doesn’t bother to look up from his cleaning gig. “‘Night, Buck.”

When I step into the hall and shut the door, I squeeze my eyes and take a deep breath. The pulse in my veins begins to slow, my body becomes less tense. And I stare at the ceiling, cursing everyone and everything, eventually cursing myself for making Colin uncomfortable.

 


 

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End notes: Thank you for reading!

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“Hey, 6B.” – chapter 6

Story Summary: Bucky is on a Mission: Find out about his past and try to remember the Man in Blue. His “mission” takes him to Boston where he meets the fun and flirty, Colin Shea. With Colin’s help, he might just find all the answers he’s been searching for…but he also might find love. With outside pressures, Bucky has to decide between remaining in the dark and staying with Colin or going after the man who haunts his nightmares.

Crossover: What’s Your Number? meets Captain America: Winter Soldier/The Avengers/Captain America: Civil War (more the movies and less the books or graphic novels)

Rating: R if this was a movie. MA if it was a TV show. Mature on Archive of Our Own. Not rated on Tumblr. There is some LGBTQ/slash sexual situations, though nothing erotic. It’s a simple Rated-R romcom. No porn. (Think along the lines of Wings meets Love, Darrows, kiTT.) As Cap would say: Language! Because yes, there is some language and double entendres. Not so much violence as of now.

Genre: RomCom/Action

Chapter word count: 1,611

Characters: James “Bucky” Barnes, Colin Shea

Disclaimer: All characters belong to their original creators. There is no copyright infringement intended. This is all done in fun and love for my favorite movies. Thank you for stopping by and reading.

Notes:  Well, the more I type, the more I watch Captain America, the more I watch What’s Your Number?, the more I love this story. Chapter one of two posting today. Total inspiration for this chapter:

Really, it’s anytime that Colin is playing the guitar and singing in What’s Your Number?

Now, on with Bucky’s story…


 

6.

 

Sunday morning and the quiet roars. The city noise is barely a whisper in the far distance, her lights as dim. Colin shuffled around his apartment until two when all noise on the other side of the wall died. Not enough sounds to distract my mind into sleeping. I missed the sex god reviews. It was something to think about instead of laying here and thinking about the Man in Blue. And why I think his name is Steve. Or about how Natasha or Nancy or whomever she is has taken a quick interest in me. The different names. She’s a spy, though not for Hydra, because I’d be dead already. And if she’s with S.H.I.E.L.D., she would have taken me in moment one.

There has to be something I can find about her…

…but I can’t scour for any information until I figure out this computer thing. Six hours now and I’m still staring at starry skies and bouncing images of foxes and music notes. Crackles and pops fill my ears as I roll my head in frustration. The “genius” promised me this would give some answers. I am doing the exact thing the salesman did—click on the fox to get a blank white screen, click the red dot to close the emptiness. I can’t figure out how the bouncing things are supposed to get me onto the internet he mentioned. I must have stolen a defective model.

I need to rethink my research options. Library. Newspaper archives. I’ve done it in DC and Philly, but it took too long and the information was severely lacking.

After a few more arrow adjustments, a few clicks, still no progress. “I give up.”

“You’re once…twice…three times a lady,” comes through the bricks. A beautiful medley accompanied by a strumming guitar. Distracting and catchy in a good way. On his fourth play, I find myself singing along.

It figures that Colin can sing. Colin can flirt. Colin can do lots of things.

dig up dirt…

The defective computer crashes on the floor as I scramble to my bare feet. I fasten the button on my black jeans and grab my t-shirt. It goes over my head, arms out quickly, as I pad up the four steps in my apartment. My door flings open and I find myself in front of 6A. I knock just below the brass designation. “Colin?”

6A’s door pops open and I taste floor. Colin seems to wear this outfit every morning and is willing to show it off. Not that there is anything wrong with a muscular chest and tight abs falling into a lovely V. The hand towel has been replaced by a yellowish-tan guitar, starting at the V and covering his…

“Hey, 6B. I didn’t think you’d want to be with me yet.”

“Um…” What was I going to ask?

“Come in.”

Colin takes four steps down into the belly of his apartment, showing off that tight, bubble-shaped ass and leaving me to gape in awe from the front door. His guitar drops into his desk chair as he shuffles by, leaving him completely naked. He pauses to pick up a navy robe from the end of the bed. He slides into it and fastens the tie around his waist as he continues on his path into the kitchen portion of the large room.

“Would you like a beer?”

“Sure.” I step inside the small apartment and shut the door. My eyes take a guilty roam around his room, trying their damnedest to stay off the robe gaping below the belt. A guitar, a desk and a barely made bed round out the real estate on the left side of the room—our shared border. The brick wall over the desk holds a giant white board with a bunch of papers taped to it. “4D” is dead center and circled in blue. Lines of red and green shove off the center loop, one of them landing on a circled, blue “Bandit”. Question marks hover over another blue “2C” and the words “new neighbor: C-something” is in a black rectangle. Then in the bottom corner, “Julie from college” is scribbled in black.

“You like it? Doing some research on my neighbors. You can never be too safe when it comes to strangers.”

A cold beer bottle taps into my metal arm with a clink as though he’s toasting me. I grab the bottle and turn my head. My heart skips a beat as our eyes meet. A twist in my gut senses that he knows more about me than I previously thought. With more regret, my eyes drop. As they tumble, they snag on the hint of chest hair on his well-defined pecs, fall down those washboard abs until I’m staring at…

“Sorry,” Colin says in a quick breath. He pulls the blue fabric over himself, hiding it all away. “Remind me to never play guitar naked again. That thing gets way too cold against my penis.”

If that large size is a result from his penis being cold, then I’m inviting him to my igloo in the arctic.

Colin motions to the other end of the couch and says, “Don’t just stand there, make yourself at home, Buck.”

I sit on the other end of the couch. Colin twists off the lid of his beer allowing a pshht to interject. Pshht answers from my bottle as the lid twists free. I fling it on the table and take a long draw.

“The Patriots game doesn’t start for another hour. Did you want to catch the pre-game show?”

My eyes land on the white board again as I answer with a nonchalant, devil-may-care shrug. It hasn’t escaped my attention that my name and apartment number are missing from the questions the board is posing. “We could, or…you know the other day, you mentioned it was in your nature to dig up information on people?”

Colin tosses a quick glance at the board. “Oh, please tell me you have something on 4D. That’s been eating at me for weeks now.”

“Um…no. I, uh…wanted to ask you to help me with looking someone up.”

“Oh, yeah? Who? An old flame? A friend?”

I lean back and straighten out my legs. My hand dives into my pocket and pulls out the small, tan notebook I’ve been carrying around since I escaped Hydra in the Washington DC skirmish. It has my notes about life’s mysteries that are plaguing me, mostly about The Man in Blue. I flip past the first twenty pages or so, skipping the details I wrote about him and landing on a blank page, bearing my name and a few found details.

“His name is James Buchanan Barnes,” I say, reading my messy penmanship.

Colin takes a swig of beer and sets it on the small table in front of us. He reaches for the notebook. “May I?”

My notebook shrinks in Colin’s large hands. He reads the page and turns, reading the last few pieces of fact I have. His eyes don’t falter from the page. He swallows down some knot stuck in his throat and hesitates a moment before asking, “Is he your ex?”

“No. Distant relative. Grandfather.”

The notebook is returned to me. A satisfied smile toys at the edges of Colin’s mouth. “This seems a little fishy to me, Buck. Something isn’t sitting right. You’re telling me you haven’t covered the basics first—Google, Ancestry.com, Twitter.”

“Twitter?” I ask, returning the notebook to my pocket. “I’m not sure how giggling about something is supposed to help.”

Colin grabs his chest, a laugh bursting onto the scene. “I get it now. You’re Pennsylvania Dutch.”

“No. Why would you assume…?”

“Because you possess no knowledge of basic search engines or social networks.” With his arm draped across the back of the couch, his fingers run lazy trails up and down my metal arm. “Did you lose your arm during a crazy night over Rumspringa?”

“No.”

“Shame. I’d figure that’s why you were ousted from the community. And with a name like Bucky, I can only imagine what all you’ve done.” He waggles his eyebrows playfully. “Right, Buck?”

Damn his flirtatious nature. My heart will beat the life out of itself. “So, will you help me?”

Colin scratches the divot over his upper lip with his thumbnail as he thinks. He reads over the whiteboard information. Mumbled curses lodge a complaint about not finishing the task at hand. And something about his father teaching him to take only one detective job at a time.

Before he can turn me down, I make an offer. “I’ll pay you. Free coffee and cannoli. Anytime I’m working at See You Latte or we could go to another shop if I’m off duty. I’d also pay for any other incidentals.”

“Well, Buck…” he says, staring at me, “…when you put it that way, I’m in. But, first things first.”

He leans forward and grabs a button covered black device from the couch. He points it to the black rectangle sitting on a small dresser. The rectangle comes to life, showing off images of men in red, white, and blue running onto a bright green field marked with numbers.

“Today we watch the Patriots kill Dallas. Tonight, you order us dinner from Anthony’s. Tomorrow, after you’re done at work, we start. Deal?”

He reclines into the sofa, arms behind his head and feet up on the table, legs crossing at his ankles. The bottom of the robe falls open, exposing his long lean thigh. I swear he’s flexing those tight muscles on purpose.

I divert my eyes to the rectangle, clear my throat, and say, “Absolutely.”


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Ending Note: Thank you for reading!

 

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