driftfleet | Centennials Are A Nuissance

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Centennials Are A Nuissance

Who: Bucky Barnes & You!
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: SS Heron
When: 3/10

[Broadcast;;]

[ The feed opens up with a view of the Heron's cargo bay, set upon a surface and focused on a very plain, yet sizable crate set in the center. Bucky comes into view, absolutely suspicious of the box addressed to him. He circles the crate a few times before kneeling and pulling out a knife so he can shimmy the lid off. It's removed very carefully and set to the side, much like he's diffusing a bomb. It may as well be, he knows what day it is, and this is obviously some weird thing from the Atroma.

He lifts a piece of paper from the top, skims through it quickly and crumples it and tosses the offending thing across the cargo bay. Bucky takes out a package that looks harmless enough- the crate is filled to the brim with very questionably made bottle rockets? Fiddling with it ends in a very harmless but extremely unnecessary explosion of glitter and confetti.

Boy, those sure aren't very nice words are they? Bucky seems to realize that the communicator is broadcasting this catastrophe, so a very glitter and confetti-covered captain stomps over to the device to shut it off. Not long after, a text comes through the network. ]

I don't care who takes the damn things, just get them off my ship. There are 99 more...

[Action;;]

[ Throughout the day, Bucky can probably be found sulking around the Heron, or sitting in the kitchen trying to clean glitter out from between the plates of his arm. His mood would be so much better if there were cake. ]

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[Wow. IS IT UNNECESSARY SPONSOR DROP DAY OR--]

...you win.

Somehow this doesn't feel like a victory.

[On the one hand, she definitely feels bad for him.

On the other, though... there's giggling on the line.]

Can I take them all, Mr Barnes?

[Do you know what a pooka can do with piles of questionably made bottle rockets. Do you.]

[ They would be so much better if they were bottle rockets! He would take fire over confetti. He sounds more annoyed than he actually is. ]

Be my guest.

[ SURPRISE!!!! Kara sneaks onto the ship and finds him in the kitchen. She's holding a cake with 10 lit candles on it, and comes into the room singing Happy Birthday ]

Happy Birthday, dear Winter~ Happy birthday to you!

[Oh. Oh she is going to be taking as many of those things as she can carry. And hiding them everywhere. For reasons.

Once she's stashed away a suitable haul, she's off to make a complete nuisance of herself. So while he's sitting there ~~sulking~~ grooming his shiny metal arm, there'll be an abrupt crackling of electricity before Livewire's leaning over his head with a fantastic disregard for personal space.]

So Sourpuss, what's the occasion? Greasemonkey give ya clean bill of health?

[...yep, totally just floating there. Not that she needed to levitate of course, but she is trying to discharge some power as a precaution, what with the ship being submerged and all. But at least she's being real nice about it and not short circuiting everything in the room.]

[Natasha finds Barnes cleaning his arm, and hides a smirk. Mostly. Look, she's allowed to have a sense of humor. And whatever he thinks, the legendary Winter Soldier picking flecks of glitter out of his arm is hilarious.

She slips in with soft foot falls, intentionally loud enough for him to hear her coming. It might be funny, but she's not stupid.

She figures the small package wrapped she carries is enough of a surprise for today.]

So since the cat's out of the bag, does that mean we get to acknowledge your birthday now?

Are you still on the Heron?

[Oh, a thought though--] Do you know who I am?

[ Well, it's definitely a surprise. He'd hoped no one would figure it out, though he had foolishly given an exact number of those damn things. The cake definitely softens the blow, and Kara makes it better.

He stops trying to work glitter out of his arm to watch her come into the kitchen, offering her a quick smile. ]

Thank you. It's good to see you, Kara.

Edited 2017-03-12 05:39 (UTC)

[ Well, it's not as if he's keeping an eye on the thing to make sure they're actually off the ship. His own fault, really. He should be more vigilant with current additions to the crew.

The telltale crackling sets him a little more on edge, the tension rising in his shoulders, but his expression remains neutral. It changes only long enough to glance at her, clearly disapproving of her proximity. ]

Something like that.

[ He would be far less imposing if there wasn't glitter stuck in his arm and in his hair. Hopefully this shit comes out with a good scrubbing, or he's going to be pissed.

Natasha makes enough noise that he's aware of her as she walks into the kitchen. He eyes the package warily, thoroughly done with surprises for the next lifetime. Whose idea was it to send the Winter Soldier confetti bombs? Someone with a death wish is who.

He sighs, his shoulders sagging briefly. ]

I suppose it does. Don't see why it's such a big deal in the first place. Isn't the first one I've had here.

[ Definitely the first being celebrated, though. ]

Only one person has ever called me 'Mr. Barnes', Katie. [ A brief pause. ]

New haircut?

[Hah! She smiles brilliantly, fluffing her hair with a hand.]

I had it all cut off. Do you like it?

You do realize it's customary to celebrate more than one birthday, right?

[The humor is warm in her voice, curling with her lips. She comes to stand next to him, setting the package on the counter while she studies the sparkles clinging to his arm.

For the moment, she doesn't offer to clean it off though.]

Especially big ones. Don't get much bigger than one hundred—you're looking good for it, by the way. I woudn't have guessed a day over eighty.

Maybe eight-seven.

Make a wish!

I only have ten candles. More than that seemed excessive.

[ Charles is, by no means, an excellent cook. But he is a decent one and manages well in the kitchen. Mostly by necessity, though he doesn't enjoy cooking a lot. Still, he plops a cupcake on the table with a fond smile and holds up a rag. ]

Need some help?

[ steve has been stubbornly keeping to the starstruck. after everything that happened, it's necessary for someone to keep an eye on max, that's the formal reason. the thing he doesn't say, however, is that a long stay underwater makes him uneasy, reminds him of a few terrible seconds when all he saw was ice and water approaching and all he heard was the sound of an engine as the Valkyrie went down.

today, however, his mood picks up from the very second he wakes up. he'll arrive at the heron in the afternoon and take a seat in front of him. ]

Could have been worse. Remember my birthday last year?

[ the 'your majesty' on the cake, the amount of pink? ]

Happy birthday, Buck. Figured I'll add another to your collection.

[ he had made it a habit from the get-go to draw brooklyn from him, in pens and pencils. This one is a framed painting in watercolor, the horizon line of coney island. ]

Good God, that's awful. [ no 'congratulations' or 'here, here' -- just abject sympathy for a man she suspects doesn't much care for having the date so handily broadcast to the rest.

she knows she'd hate it, were it for her. ] I wasn't going to say anything -- but silence seems irrelevant, now.

Edited 2017-03-12 13:10 (UTC)

[ Nancy Wheeler has been slowly adjusting to this removed, odd life that she has been pulled into. With no clear schedule and no school, she created one for herself. She wakes up when the lights are turned on, she showers, she practices her shots and she cleans weapons and she eats and reads and studies and reads again.

she doesn't venture too far and she doesn't make herself too familiar. A seventeen year old girl, she quickly realizes the halls of the heron aren't the halls of school and that her crew is, well.

she likes to call them special.

she bites back a smile and a pearl of laughter when she watches the video. She has seen the captain from afar, haven't yet introduced herself.

she tidies down her sweater and walks over to the kitchen. she'll have to bite back another smile, watching him trying to remove the glitter from his hair and - arm? is that an arm? Mike would go crazy for it.

She'll offer him a towel. ]

Here -

[ and out of habit to speak to adults a certain way, he's a captain, nancy is his security officer, she'll add, ]

Sir.

It suits you. It's been a while.

I don't know what to wish for.

Can I wish for more time to figure out what I'm wishing for?

Haven't celebrated one since before the war. Figured I would follow up with that tradition.

[ It's said lightly enough as he gives up the task for the moment to regard her gift. ]

Well, if that's the case, next year will be something to behold. [ He huffs. ]

Guess it could be worse. I could look my age.

[ It's most definitely the thought that counts, and he's really glad to see Charles after the earlier irritation. Bucky offers him a relieved smile. ]

It's possible.

No, see, that was funny.

[ This? Not so funny. It's going to take forever to get every last speck out. Wrath would have thought it was hysterical, though. He stops what he's doing to stare at the painting in awe. ]

Wow.. This is great, Steve. Thank you.

[ He's going to have to figure out the perfect spot for it in his quarters. ]

Apparently secrets are something we're not allowed.

[ Honestly, it's not that he wanted to keep it a secret, but he wasn't about to go letting everyone know when his birthday was, either. Doesn't seem like a very big deal to him. It's just one more year he hasn't died, right? ]

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Centennials Are A Nuissance

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