Disclaimer. I don't own any of the Marvel characters or the universe they come from, only my oc's.
Author's Note: This story arrived in my head one day and the muse was the strongest I've had in sometime so I followed it. This has been a fun journey so far and as outlandish as this whole thing may come across, it's only meant to be fun! So keeping that in mind, I hope this idea amuses all of you as much as me!
A special thanks to usa123! Without your help I'd still be pulling my hair out!
And a huge thanks to all the rest of you who have been my crash test dummies with these first few chapters, thanks so much! I won't name you all! You know who you are! Haha!
Camden Town, London, 1943.
Camden Head, situated at the corner of Camden Road and Pratt Street, a little over two miles north of the heart of London, was packed as usual. The crowd, mostly made up of members of the Allied Forces, all turned out in some degree of uniform was a lively bunch. They all crowded into the space and it made for an interesting atmosphere. One of personal boasting and good-natured banter and camaraderie.
Bucky's regiment had only been in England for a few weeks, but it was long enough to learn that Camden Town was the place to go if you had a pass.
The first time Bucky had had a night off post was the week after he'd reached London. Addam's, one of the men he gone through basic with at Camp Wolter's and was now in the same company with, had asked around about where to go if they wanted a little fun.
Wanting in on that fun and a drink, Bucky'd gone out with some of the men from his company and a couple others and this was where they had ended that first night and again tonight.
The first night they'd arrived here, the rain had been falling in a heavy drizzle, much like it was now, turning the water brown as it washed dirt from the streets and flooded the gutters. Another similarity to his first excursion here was him sitting at a small, overcrowded table, in an uncomfortable chair, listening to the banter being thrown around.
The first topic of this evening had been yesterday's forty-mile hike through the English countryside in the rain, where they had all been dressed in full regimental gear. The men then discussed how much they disliked their C.O. and, somewhere along the way, the conversation had turned toward the topic of women. Women were something almost every soldier had a story about and, whenever there was newcomer around, the topic was certain to come up.
Timothy Aloysius Cadwallader Dugan, more commonly known by his friends as Dum Dum or simply Dugan, was the loudest of the group, the largest and most entertaining. Jolly was the best way to describe him really, with his round, rosy cheeks, friendly disposition and that certain twinkle he got in his mossy colored eyes. He had a quick laugh, a crude sense of humor and was always the first to make a lewd comment or crack a questionable joke. Tonight, he was the one that brought the present topic up.
Three of the men from Buckys squad had joined Dugan, Himself, and the others at Camden Head. John Wilson, a Jersey boy from Bayonne and Teddy Fletcher from the Bronx had eagerly shared their stories with Dugan, but the kid, Sampson Mcreavy, wasn't as eager.
Sam had been on the same ship that had carried Bucky across the Atlantic to London. Mcreavy was short in stature, with blond hair, blue eyes and the fiery disposition only a little man could have; he reminded Bucky of Steve. Needless to say, Bucky had taken a liking to him almost instantly.
Bucky had found that fiery disposition only lasted so far, however. Once the topic of woman came up Sam turned shy or more accurelty if he was teased about woman he turned shy.
The kid had never quite found his sea legs on the voyage to London and, when some of the men on board had teased him about playing sick so he could spend time with the nurses, Sam had clammed up. Shy as he was about the topic of woman, Sammy made the perfect target for Dugan's teasing. All Dugan had done was ask the kid if he had a girl and he'd turned red as beet. As if he'd just realized what a mistake turning bright red had been, Sam quickly said he did have a girl and her name was May. But after his embarrassed response it was too late, his fate was sealed. There was no way Dugan wouldn't have some good-natured fun with him now that he'd seen how easily embarrassed Sam was.
At present, Bucky was leaned back in his chair, his arms folded over his chest and a pint of ale in his right hand. His gaze was on Sam, who sat with Dugan's beefy arm draped around his shoulder. Watching the blush that colored Sam's face, the grin on Bucky's lips grew. "You at least kissed the girl before you left?" Dugan asked playfully, around the cigar he held clamped between his teeth.
The smoke from Dugan's cigar adding to the heavy cloud that hung about the room as he pulled the kid closer. When the only response Sam gave was turning red clear to the tops of his ears as he gulped down a large drink of ale, Dugan grinned even wider and nudged the boy in the ribs. "Well, did ya, Sammy boy?"
Sam's eyes grew large and he sputtered and coughed on the drink he'd just taken.
Everyone at the table except Sam laughed.
Taking the cigar from his mouth, Dugan's attention traveled to the near empty mug in Sam's hand and he said, "I think what you need is a refill." Looking at his own drained glass, he said, "Well I'll be damned, so do I." His voice was slightly bemused, like it was shocking that his glass was empty.
Apparently, forgetting about Sam, Dugan's arm slipped from around Sam's shoulder and he turned in his seat, empty pint glass in hand. "Barkeep!" he shouted.
When the gray-haired man behind the bar didn't pay him any mind, Dugan shoved his chair back, scrapping its legs against the wooden floor and stood. The sudden upward motion must have caught him off guard for he staggered slightly and shook his head as if to clear it. Then he looked around the room, lifted his glass and called the Barkeep again. When his second attempt to gain the man's attention was met with little more success than the first, he tried a different approach.
"Listen up boys!" Dugan announced loudly, wobbling again before he continued, "I got something to say!"
The pub grew quiet as all eyes turned toward him. At the same time, a slightly confused look crossed Dugan's ruddy features, like maybe he'd forgotten exactly why he stood up. Bucky chuckled slightly as he watched.
Someone called from the direction of the bar, "we're waiting Yank!" in a voice heavily laden with a British accent. Another called out, "sit down you wanker, you're drunk."
The last comment got Dugan's attention and his head snapped in the general direction of the voice. "I'll have you know, I can drink anyone of you's British sons a bitches, under the table any day of the week," he shot back, lifting his whiskey glass and sticking his pinky out for emphasis.
Laughter filled the room, before Dugan went on, "and just so I can prove it, I'm buying this round!"
A general sound of approval went up in the crowd. Bucky wasn't altogether certain that was the outcome his drunk friend had intended when he stood, but he was apparently content with it now. Dugan turned, then sat down once more, slapping Bucky on the back with his meaty hand as he went. Bucky immediately slumped forward, the front legs of his chair hitting the floor jarringly as he coughed and choked on the ale in his mouth.
"So what about you, Sarg?" Dugan asked, the last word heavily laden with a suggestive tone.
Bucky rubbed the stinging spot on his shoulder and righted himself in the chair. After the coughing had subsided and he'd managed to swallow, Bucky met Dugan's mischief-filled gaze. "What about what?" he asked, his voice slightly curious, like he hadn't the slightest idea to what Dugan referred, when truthfully, he had a pretty good idea what was coming.
"You gotta have some dame waiting on you—some story to tell."
It wasn't the first time Dugan had asked him some version of that question in the weeks since they had met, but Bucky's response was always the same.
A slight smirk tugged at the edge of Bucky's mouth as he once more leaned back in his chair, balanced it on it back legs, and stretched out his own legs under the table. Aware that several pairs of eyes were now focused on him, he lifted his pint towards his mouth, he took a long slow drink, purposely drawing out the silence.
After he'd swallowed his drink, his gaze shifted back to Dugan once more. "Sorry boys but I don't kiss and tell."
Thanks for reading!