alteregos | if i ever leave this world alive ( closed to bucky )

if i ever leave this world alive ( closed to bucky )

[It's obscenely late, but it's easy to still find people roaming the streets. The majority of them stupid drunk, or just one of the two, stumbling back home or finding their way to one more bar so they can end the night in a pathetic haze of alcohol and neon lights. Petre remains perfectly sober when he brings his cigarette down from his lips, leaning back against the brick building where he's met his so-called friend many times before now. He knows the way here by heart, no matter where he's coming from. It's a visit he enjoys paying, and he's quite certain that this night will be no different.

Assuming Bucky can actually make it here alive.]

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[There's definitely people who want to give Bucky some trouble, but Bucky's got a dangerous look in his eyes that generally turn people away as soon as they make eye contact. He's had blood on his hands before, and he won't hesitate to stain them again.

Bucky's a killer. Has been for a while. And he's damn good at it.

That's not what he's up to tonight though. At least, probably not. He can never really be sure with Petre.

And honestly, the unpredictability is part of what draws Bucky to him.

He's cleaned up, looking sharp, handsome, and oozing confidence and danger as he finally walks up to Petre, a lit cigarette hanging from his own lips.]

Sorry I'm late. Almost ran into trouble a couple of times.

I'm sure you did.

[His gaze just lingers on the ground before they're up and back on that familiar face, small smile edging on his lips.]

And you never did get to shoot me in the foot.

[imagine if he had.]

[He raises his eyebrows, pulling his cigarette from his lips and tapping the ash on the ground.]

I still can, if you want. We just have to find a nice spot where no one'll hear.

[Lips spread in a grin, turning away to exhale smoke, mimicking what Bucky does with the tip of his own cigarette. One more drag and he's done with it, throwing it out to the curb.]

Could think of other reasons to scream, but - if that's your kink.

[Bucky's still got half a cigarette left, so he doesn't toss his, bringing it back up to his lips but not quite taking a drag as he responds.]

Nah, probably not a smart idea to associate shooting with sex, honestly. It'd make my job a hell of a lot harder.

I don't know. Always found those guns of yours pretty phallic.

You would.

[He grins and takes a deep drag off the cigarette, letting out his breath of smoke in a cloud at Petre's face.]

Let's get the subject off my literal guns, please. Where do you want to go?

You're the one who fell on your ass. [Sorry. Face.] I think you get to call the shots just this once.

[Well that's a surprise.]

I thought I was paying you back for wasting your time.

I'm feeling generous.

[He doesn't even try to pretend he's not lying.]

[His eyebrows raise and a slow grin spreads across his face, and Bucky laughs.]

My lucky night.

[He taps the ash off his cigarette again and tilts his head a moment, humming as he considers.]

My place then. I like home territory.

[Petre shrugs, pursing his lips in what's supposed to look like a moment of thought.

Then he lifts his hand and gestures at Bucky to lead the way.]

Your place, then.

[He does. The nice thing about their meeting place is it isn't too far from home. Ten minute walk, tops.]

You planning on being generous all night long, or just for this? Because I gotta be honest, I wasn't thinking about doing anything in particular.

I'll do whatever you want, Buck. You know how I roll.

[Buck. Only one person really gets to call him that, isn't that right. Petre doesn't particularly care. He isn't here right now.]

I'm easy. And you're human.

[His shoulders tense a little at the name, but he lets out a breath and bites his lip from saying anything. It's not a big deal. It shouldn't be. But he doesn't like being reminded when he's doing something like this.]

Yeah?

[He turns to face Petre, walking backwards easily.]

Why's that make a difference?

It doesn't. [He cocks his head, smirk open and wide.] That's the point.

[But he sees that twinge of irritation; it's what he was looking for and now Bucky's doing his very best to keep it at bay. It's just a prelude for what he hopes he'll bring out for the rest of the night. They'll see how he's feeling then.]

[It's a strange kind of remark, but Bucky shrugs and accepts it. They're at his apartment anyway, and he trots up the steps to open the front door.]

If you say so.

I do say so.

[Petre loves to have the last word. And he loves the sound of his own voice. It's something you get used to ignoring, eventually, if you're smart enough.]

Just like coming home.

[Don't mind if he makes his way to the couch and sits down, arms thrown across the back.]

[Bucky watches him sprawl on the couch, raising his eyebrows as he hooks his jacket on the hanger before walking over to stand by the couch, his arms crossed in front of him.]

You want anything to drink?

Sure.

[Nice of him to ask, he supposes.]

You look nervous.

Do I?

[He goes over to his liquor cabinet and pours out a couple glasses of whiskey. Nothing particularly fancy. He brings one over to Petre.]

Honestly I'm trying to figure out what the hell I want.

[There's no thank you, save for the slow smile when he takes the glass.]

Instinct usually works just fine.

[Bucky hums softly at that, thinking, considering Petre as he takes a drink.

He sets the glass down on the table next to the couch and proceeds to climb onto the couch, straddling Petre and leaning down to press his lips to his ear and murmur gently.]

Also I can't help but wonder if this generosity is actually a trap.

[One hand still holds his glass when Bucky draws near. The other rests comfortably on his thigh, leaning back just enough to keep his eyes on the other man's features, lazy and warm, shut briefly to hear him speak.

His thumb brushes on him lightly. Idly. His voice soft and low.]

When did I ever lie to you, James?

[Bucky laughs softly in Petre's ear, nips it gently.]

Plenty of times, you rat bastard.

[And he proceeds to kiss along his jawline until he gets to Petre's mouth, speaking softly against his lips.]

Wouldn't put anything past you.

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