logsinthenight | Taking in Strays [Closed log]

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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?"

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.

"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."

"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."

"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.

"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.

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."

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.)

"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.

"Yes, we don't currently have soap, we'll have to pick some up in the morning. But you're welcome to take a quick rinse. Or--"

He gets up and walks over to the kitchen. He digs out a bottle of dish soap that has maybe one or two squirts left in it. "There's... there's this!" Is that an acceptable thing to shower with?

Soap usually comes in bars, doesn't it? The Soldier looks at the dish soap with mild skepticism. Even if that would work, there's hardly enough in there for even its hair. "There is a building with supplies," it says after a pause. "I can go there first. You should have soap, too."

Since it's got no idea these people aren't human, and don't take actual showers and things.

Crowley looks at Aziraphale's offer and cringes. That's something, but it's definitely not the right thing.

"We'll get you something," he says. "And, you know, something for us, too," he adds. "Because we bathe."

Important to add. Can't be seen as odd or anything.

"Oh, yes. We bathe regularly," he adds helpfully.

"Very good at being clean, us. But not... too clean." He has no idea where he's going with this, but he's very bad at pretending to be human once he actually has to speak to them, as it turns out.

The Soldier is not sure how to take being assured by its handler and brand new tech that they are good at being clean but not too clean. That's not any kind of topic it's prepared to field. It blinks, looking between each of them, and says at last, "That's good. I'm glad for you. Are you sure I can't handle getting supplies for you."

Because it's starting to wonder if they know what soap even actually is. Or maybe if whatever the tech drugged its tea with is making it hallucinate. That might be more likely than this utterly weird conversation.

Taking in Strays [Closed log]

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