Chapter Text
“Our readers would love to know how you got those muscles, Sergeant Barnes.” The Men’s Health reporter smiled invitingly. “We could do a whole spread.”
Steve didn’t need Sam grabbing the back of his shirt to keep from interfering. He’d seen the minute eyelid-dip that was the only sign of the flat look Bucky almost gave the reporter after the first bit. As for the second, well, people kept acting like no one back in the Olden Days had known what sex was or that fellas could want fellas. The cool smile Bucky was giving the reporter now was all the evidence Steve needed that Bucky could handle the guy himself.
“First,” said Bucky, the image of polite helpfulness, “they need to have grown up not having always had enough food. Having a variety of manual-labor jobs helps, to work those different muscle groups. Then they should spend years at war, carrying around all the equipment they need and again not always getting enough to eat, and usually at risk of attack – constant muscle tension does wonders for toning abs and shoulders.
“After that, it’s simple. Get captured by HYDRA, survive medical torture including unidentified experimental drugs – but the right ones, mind – get rescued, do the war thing some more, then fall from a moving train onto sharp rocks in the mountains in winter, get your arm chopped off and replaced with something heavy – gives you that constant resistance exercise to maintain basic posture, ’course it also does a number on your spine so you have chronic pain ’til you can get it replaced with a better model years later so, you know, that part might not be for everybody – and get put through a forced brainwashing and physical conditioning program to turn you into an assassin, during which insufficient effort gets you more torture and mind-wipes.” Bucky paused and looked away, pursing his lips and tapping a finger against his mouth thoughtfully. Then he looked back at the reporter and smiled brightly. “That’s about it.”
There were no further questions.