Taking in Strays [Closed log]

[worthallthis]

characters: Bucky, Crowley, and Aziraphale
location: Miner's Castle 3
date/time: Sept 3, evening
content: Somebody's getting a roof over his head (finally)
warnings: Just Bucky being his usual Soldier-y self for now


So far, the Soldier had mostly been dozing in trees and behind the church, not able to settle down at any of the empty houses. They felt too big and rattling, but at the same time too small and confining. Not secure. Not right.

But then the string bean handler offered, and that felt a little more right.

So here it is, approaching the house at Miner's Castle 3, lantern in hand and the single blanket its collected so far (it gets chilly in a tree, okay) folded over its shoulder, trying not to look anxious at the idea of meeting the handler's "flatmate" (what the fuck does that even mean) or being in an enclosed space with two semi-strangers. Good thing the Soldier has a lot of training in not looking anxious, so it pretty much just looks blank.

It stands outside the door for a long couple of minutes, waiting to be acknowledged, before some ancient memory finally rises up and it knocks the back of the metal hand on the wood.

Comments

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley glances in Aziraphale's direction.

"Not a person," he repeats. "They told you that you're not a person."

Yeah, that definitely sounds like Hell to Crowley. He imagines the human soldier person's life, being only treated like a weapon, and thinks about some of the creatures in Hell that are only treated as pawns, or as fodder for War. That's no way to live.

"Do you ever want to remember what it was like to...you know, be a person?"

[lunchbreaks]

Yes, this is the absolute worst case of brainwashing that Aziraphale has ever seen, and he's seen quite a lot of it in his day. He looks on incredulously but lets Crowley be the one to ask the questions, hanging back trying to put snacks together.

He does, however, cut in to say: "There's no chair here, not for recalibration purposes. And the closest thing we have to cryofreeze is the refrigerator, I hope you don't need any to sleep in."

[worthallthis]

Aziraphale's reassurance, (the Soldier guesses that's what it is supposed to be, and it kind of is, because fuck the Chair, it never wants to see that Chair again) gets a glance, while the Soldier's mind is trying to grapple with Crowley's question.

It isn't a person.

Can't be a person.

If it's a person--

If it can remember--

No. No. The Soldier rolls the teacup in its fingers, then focuses off into the middle distance, presses its mouth together, and shakes its head slowly. It does not want to know. The very thought makes its brain buzz with more fear, more hurt. "Just let me keep you safe," it says.

[sauntered_downward]

"Yeah, definitely," Crowley says. "Because, believe me, I want us to be safe. Lots of unsafe things out here, not a fan of them at all----"

He hops to his feet suddenly, and gives the angel a look.

"Angel, a word?"

Not exactly nice to talk about the human soldier person in front of him, but Crowley needs to see if Aziraphale is seeing what he is seeing.

[lunchbreaks]

"Yes," he says, pulling away from his task to pull Crowley into the next room. "You know," he starts, in perfect Celestial language, though his voice still low because it does sound rather ethereal to humans. "This might be easier. What is it?"

He assumes it has to do with their new houseguest. He is a little uncomfortable trusting Bucky to his objective. He's programmed to it, but. It just seems wrong to take advantage.

[worthallthis]

The Soldier knows a lot of languages. That isn't one of them. If it were any less wound up right now, it might even be curious. As it is, assuming they're after privacy and perfectly okay with them presumably talking about it (they're politer about it than HYDRA, anyway), the Soldier just focuses for the moment on the tea, the weird fruit thing the tech gave it, and getting it's stupid emotions back under control. The break in having to converse is honestly a relief.

[sauntered_downward]

Oh, shit. Celestial language. Crowley knows it, but he's terrible at it. He much prefers English, which isn't as complicated and doesn't do such strange things to its verbs. He concentrates on Aziraphale's words and takes them in, translating them in his head.

"I'm guessing the human soldier person needs a bit of help," he says. His Celestial is not horrific, but it has a harsh, demonic tongue to it. "The kind that I'm thinking a heavenly body might be able to give?"

He gestures to Aziraphale. "Calming of the spirit and all that?"

[lunchbreaks]

"Crawly," he says, because he has never say Crowley in Celestial language and only remembers this name. "I can calm him down, but the crux of the problem is the brainwashing." It sounds so strange in Celestial language, brain and washing he translates directly, since there is no such word. "And you know I can't just bring his memories back all at once, I don't think his form could take it. Even a little at a time; it's delicate work."

He heaves a sigh. "I'll calm him. But we'll have to figure something else out for the long run. And he's scared of me."

He looks back into the other room and then makes his way over to Bucky. "Hello," he says, in a smooth, deep voice. Back to Russian. "Soldier. How do you feel?"

[worthallthis]

The Soldier blinks once at him (what the hell is he doing with his voice?) but it answers in the same language. "Functional. Thank you for the tea." It's also gone now. So is about half of the stack of pineapple slices, even though it's only been a minute or two. It has a lot of caloric needs, okay. It's almost always hungry.

It doesn't say that, though. The Soldier's functional even if it's hungry and scared, that's just about its normal baseline. And there's still more pineapple to go.

[sauntered_downward]

Oh, no. They're back to Russian again. Crowley can't do a damn thing while they're speaking in Russian. He wants to say something like, Oh, I'll just sit over here and be useless, shall I?, but he did ask Aziraphale to help the human soldier person, and that's really what Aziraphale is trying to do.

He goes to his cup of tea and waves his hand over it, turning it into bland Chardonnay. Better than nothing.

He lounges against the kitchen table, waiting.

[lunchbreaks]

Functional. He sighs, sensing that Bucky is still extremely tense. Doesn't take an empath to know that, just anyone with eyes who's spent a modicum of time around living creatures.

For Crowley, he looks at Bucky and says, "you are safe here, my dear, please calm yourself down." And casts a soothing blessing on him, which should at least subdue him for the moment.

[worthallthis]

Tense is pretty much the Soldier's default state, worse when it's stuck in an enclosed space in the dark with a pair of near-strangers. So the slow unwinding of tension in its neck and shoulders is... weird. Even weirder is the sensation of maybe not needing to keep an eye on every exit, every minute. Or duck its head away from Aziraphale. (Well, that's still a little bit there, but that's too ingrained to go away even with a blessing. At least it manages not to do it.)

Weird. ... not horrible, though.

What is it supposed to say to that comment, though? There's not an obvious answer, though for once the Soldier doesn't really agonize over what the safest response might be. "If you say so," it says gravely.

[sauntered_downward]

"What sort of people do you usually protect?" Crowley asks, taking a sip out of his mug. "You seemed pretty certain we needed protecting."

Crowley would be offended at that, actually, except he's not entirely not self aware. He gives a brief glance to Aziraphale, and then a short glance at the dark room around them. He's pretty sure despite their abilities, they may be the two most incompetent people in this town.

"Which, don't get me wrong, we're probably going to need around here."

[lunchbreaks]

Aziraphale tosses Crowley a glare. Didn't Crowley say he recruited Soldat? They are going to have to have a chat about that later.

But instead, he nudges the pineapple closer a little. "I hope you don't mind the state of our home. Do please make yourself comfortable."

[worthallthis]

Hey, technically the Soldier offered, Crowley just took advantage off the offer and did a good job of giving instructions so that it stuck. Not like it minds even the slightest bit, at this point.

"It's fine," it tells Aziraphale. "Better than an empty one." Which is a big part of why it's here, at all. The empty ones felt all wrong. This one slowly getting better.

The Soldier doesn't even really need encouragement to keep eating. After another slice of the pineapple, it answers Crowley: "All sorts. Scientists. Politicians. Persons of interest. Handlers, backup. Skinny little punks." Wait. What? It shakes itself a little, and finishes, "Anyone I am told to protect or which the mission requires I keep alive."

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley also told Aziraphale he had a network of spies and informants which included exactly only Shadwell. Crowley says things sometimes.

Crowley likes the term 'skinny little punks'. It's the first time he's really seen the human soldier person show disdain that wasn't for feeling things. Maybe there's something in there. Maybe Aziraphale's presence is helping.

"Why us?" Crowley asks. "You didn't know me until the other day on the ferry. Had a mutual desire to get out of here----still going to go forward on that, by the way, can't forget. But I'm not part of a mission."

[lunchbreaks]

Skinny little punks. That's odd, and also not how one would talk about an authority.

But he isn't about to question it, particularly since Crowley's moved on.

"Yes, my dear, I think he's impressed upon you and believes you're his mission." He rubs his temple. "What is it that I am to you, then, I wonder, Soldier?"

[worthallthis]

That's because it wasn't an authority; there's nothing about that phrase that makes it remotely nervous-- rather, more like fond and exasperated. The Soldier is actually baffled as to where that came from, and weirdly a little sad, until it pushes the feeling away. (Get back in your box, emotions.)

Aziraphale's blessing helps enough that it can give Crowley a look with a not-blank and not-afraid expression. The exasperation for the "skinny little punk", in fact, bleeds into the look to the handler. "Protecting you is a mission now. Both of you." It has another slice of pineapple and adds, "You're a good handler so far."

Okay, stop. It really, really should not be expressing opinions about its handlers. What the hell. Did the technician drug its tea or something? It gives the teacup a suspicious look.

[sauntered_downward]

"Well, I do my best," Crowley says, non-comittally. After all, he hasn't exactly been trying to be a handler at all. He just thought he was being---cringe---a good person. But Aziraphale is right, he's made an impression on the human soldier person and now the human soldier person needs them for guidance.

And, Hell, it's not as if they're doing a totally awful job. The human soldier person is not going to suffer under Aziraphale, at least. The angel wouldn't let anything like that happen.

He considers Aziraphale's question. "I'm a handler, and you're part of the mission," he says. "Someone to protect. And trust me, he does a pretty good job trying to get himself discorporated at any drop of a hat, so you'll have your work cut out for you."

[lunchbreaks]

"Excuse me," he retorts, shooting a look at Crowley. "But I hardly think putting a human in danger is really what we should be doing at this moment. Even if he has... a metal arm and is proficient with weapons."

He heaves another long-suffering sigh, because he seems to be full of them today. "But you hear that, Crowley? You're a good handler. That's excellent news, because you'll be taking care of him," he says, as if to a child who'd brought a stray puppy home. Even though Aziraphale, as the parent in this situation, knows he'll be taking the brunt of the work.

"Can't believe you were going to have him sleep on the floor."

[worthallthis]

"I've slept worse places." The Soldier isn't sure whether to be annoyed or... amused? Amused. There's a little of that. How weird. It really is starting to think the tech drugged the tea. It makes a note not to drink anything else offered to it today.

"And my job is looking after you. Not the other way around." Weren't you people listening? Yes, a technician helps repair the arm if necessary... but for everything else. "This is what I'm good at." One of the things. A thing it would rather do than other things it's good at.

The Soldier can't believe it's half-way to pleading to let it protect them. Honestly.

[sauntered_downward]

"I can take care of him!" Crowley says, with all the petulance of the child who has brought home a puppy and he most certainly won't be giving him up any time soon, thank you very much. The scowl on his face is also reminiscent of the child who most certainly has no idea how to take care of said puppy and will be leaning very much on Daddy Aziraphale throughout the whole process.

"And I wasn't----I definitely wasn't serious about the floor." He was.

"I was always talking about the couch." He wasn't.

[lunchbreaks]

Yes, Crowley is definitely a child. At least, he's acting like one, one who should've grown out of this phase a long time ago. Aziraphale absolutely knows that Crowley did not intend to let Soldat sleep on the couch and again, shoots him a deathglare, but is all smiles with the new addition to their household.

"Yes dear, of course dear. But you're in no condition to sleep on a hard floor, particularly when we have a perfectly fine couch that'll do nicely. Your back will thank you when you've reached that age, trust me." Or don't, because Aziraphale never has back problems. "Now, the bathroom is upstairs if you need."

[worthallthis]

You're not even fooling this guy, Crowley-- not that it cares, precisely. It actually makes the Soldier more comfortable with him, of all things, which is probably stupid... but there's an inkling that Crowley is just. Harmless. Its expression shades a little into... indulgent amusement. Just a little.

Good thing the Soldier is pretty sure it can take care of itself (aside from needing orders, anyway). Not leaving that up to Crowley.

When Aziraphale speaks, its expression evens out again. "Thank you." A pause, then the question: "Does the shower work?" Maybe it really wants a shower. (Or a bath. But it hasn't had a bath... ever. That it can remember.)

[sauntered_downward]

"I----I think so." Crowley has just been keeping himself clean with his powers, he hasn't even checked. "We should----get you some sort of soap or something."

That's what you do when you are taking care of someone, right?

Crowley can actually do this.