Okay, so this is quickly going all the wrong ways. For a split second, Bucky drops his guard for his confusion, and it's a moment too long. What are you? The hell does he mean by that?
But Bucky doesn't get the chance to ask because the next few seconds are a blur. Steve comes at him, all fury and rage like Bucky has never seen before, and even raising the bar up to prepare to fight back, regardless of his misgivings, does him little good.
It's knocked away so hard he thinks he heard something in his hand crack, and the bar goes skidding away, not that he intended to really use it on Steve. The next thing that happens leaves white spots in his visions, the punch a harder hit than any he has taken before and if Steve wasn't holding his jacket, would have knocked him back on his ass again.
As it is, it has him gasping for air to breath and struggling to twist out of his jacket and away from his friend.
He chokes on his words, violently pulling out of the jacket, sprinting back to grab the bar with the hand that isn't ringing numb, and Steve's hit had bent it. Reminding him of that punch Schmidt left in Steve's shield.
"Steve, stop. Jesus, you're not thinking straight."
He coughed up another lung of air, moving back as he spoke.
"They did something to you. Got in your head. It's me. Drop the fists before you hurt yourself."
Because even as things were getting more and more serious, Bucky clung to what made him, him. Because maybe eventually he'd find the right thing to say to snap Steve out of this.
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But Bucky doesn't get the chance to ask because the next few seconds are a blur. Steve comes at him, all fury and rage like Bucky has never seen before, and even raising the bar up to prepare to fight back, regardless of his misgivings, does him little good.
It's knocked away so hard he thinks he heard something in his hand crack, and the bar goes skidding away, not that he intended to really use it on Steve. The next thing that happens leaves white spots in his visions, the punch a harder hit than any he has taken before and if Steve wasn't holding his jacket, would have knocked him back on his ass again.
As it is, it has him gasping for air to breath and struggling to twist out of his jacket and away from his friend.
He chokes on his words, violently pulling out of the jacket, sprinting back to grab the bar with the hand that isn't ringing numb, and Steve's hit had bent it. Reminding him of that punch Schmidt left in Steve's shield.
"Steve, stop. Jesus, you're not thinking straight."
He coughed up another lung of air, moving back as he spoke.
"They did something to you. Got in your head. It's me. Drop the fists before you hurt yourself."
Because even as things were getting more and more serious, Bucky clung to what made him, him. Because maybe eventually he'd find the right thing to say to snap Steve out of this.