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Basic Training - Headcanon

There’s not much he can do, short of a miracle, to put on fifty more pounds and maybe grow another foot, overnight.  

But Dr. Erskine gave him a foot in the door and Steve Rogers isn’t going to squander that chance.

He does his best with the physical training, carry his weight, keep up as much as he can, ignoring the pain in his muscles, the too-rapid beat of his heart, the tell-tale wheeze in his lungs.  He shrugs off the bullying from Hodges - he’s not about to break discipline and get kicked out, not for some ape just trying to get his kicks.  Fact is, the fellas have been taking Hodges aside, muttering about, “Come on, quit picking on Rogers, we ain’t got time for this shit no more, yeah?”

When they’re not training, Steve spends his time reading up on military tactics and strategy, history, field manuals, map-reading.  Officers’ books.  He’s read some of them before and he’s just refreshing his memory.  The others are new and he’s soaking up every bit of knowledge that he can. 

Winchester teases him, “You lookin’ to become a General or somethin’, Rogers?”

Steve grins.  “Nah, just doin’ some light readin’.  Fella’s gotta get some entertainment somewhere.” 

You’re a little guy, Bucky once told him.  Ain’t nothin’ to be done to get you bigger and stronger than you are now, punk, but that ain’t no tragedy, no how.  Real fight’s up here - and he remembers Bucky gently poking his temple with a finger.  You fight with your brains, you fight smart, you make it out alive.  You got that, punk?

Fight smart. 

Eventually, they move on to firearms training.  Steve, at least, can take apart and put together a rifle pretty quickly.   It’s just another puzzle and Lord only knew how well he’d done at those, all those times he’d had to spend in bed, bored out of his skull except when Bucky was there keeping him company.  So he gets that sorted out fairly well. 

They’re all brought out to the firing range and okay, this much, Steve can do easily, he thinks.  There’s nothing wrong with his eyes, at least - drawing’s his trade and he’s always trained himself to look, not just see.  Aim at the target.  Shoot.  It’s not too hard to do. 

So he does.  Center mass.  Dead center.  Each and every time. 

Peggy - Agent Carter - slants him a look.  Target’s moved a little bit farther.   Steve reloads.  Takes aim.  Fires again. 

Head shot.  Sweet and easy, just as Bucky taught him.  It’s a little different from Coney Island and the shooting games - these are always rigged - but principle’s the same.  He can get that done. 

"Think you can manage another, Private?" she asks him.

At this point, the men are gathered around, muttering to each other.  Most of them have managed to be decent shots, all within regulations.  Steve, however, is shooting well over expectation. 

He nods, then abruptly remembers to answer out loud, “Yes, ma’am.”

She barely stifles a smile, but the approval is clear in her eyes.  Target’s moved farther.  Two hundred and twenty five meters, well over the sniper range maximum for training. 

Steve aims, takes a breath. 

Hodges coughs. 

"Shut up, asshole," somebody says.  It sounds like Winchester. 

Steve had been waiting for that - there’s always a distraction, Bucky tells him.  You learn to ignore it.  He focuses his attention on his target.  Squeezes the trigger.

Head shot.  He’s got it. 

The others cheer. 

"Pity you Yanks won’t train your snipers better," Agent Carter mutters.  "Good job, Rogers." 

There’s a couple of more men whose range scores are similar or nearly as good as Steve’s.  Agent Carter says that she’ll be training all of them personally. 

Steve gets a few pats on the back from his squad mates, a joke from Winchester and a promise extracted to draw him a pin-up of Betty Grable.  Steve rolls his eyes but yeah, he’ll get that done.  He’ll be writing a letter to Bucky first, maybe let him know all those lessons paid off. 

He’s just not going to tell Bucky about the grenade story though.  He’ll never hear the end of it.

- end -

Note:   So according to Wikipedia, the U.S. Army’s sniper training during World War II was very elementary, which gives you an idea of how goddamn valuable Bucky Barnes was as the Commandos’ sniper and how good at the job he probably was, even before the whole Winter Soldier deal. 

Although this is a headcanon, so I was prepared to pretty much prepared to chuck canon at the door, I did look for a screenshot of Steve’s known disabilities at the time.  There’s nothing wrong with his eyes.  There’s nothing wrong with his aim.  And we know Steve can shoot and given the way he wields that shield, it’s a safe bet that Steve can actually hit the broad side of a barn.  I also think Steve probably is a superb shooter - we’ve seen him use a gun when he needs to.  My headcanon!Steve does have sniper skills - he just prefers the shield most of the time and also because he’s usually in the direct line of battle, so that duty is generally left to Bucky and of course, currently, Clint as well. 

For headcanon purposes, I am pretending that Basic Training in the MCU-verse took a little longer than a week.  Seriously, even without checking Wikipedia I know it takes LONGER than one week.  I just figure that since it’s a “special” project, the majority of Steve’s squadmates already had been going through Basic and Steve was the new guy pretty much playing catch-up, since he got in there on the say-so of Dr. Erskine. 

AHAHAHAHAHA.  Yeah, we know Steve doesn’t succeed in keeping the grenade story from Mrs. Rogers.  Poor, poor Steve.  





The game is this:
I set up five pairs of identical looking shots:
pineapple juice or lemon juice,
Chinese sugar tea or apple cider vinegar,
flat coke or soy sauce,
water or distilled white vinegar,
and tomato juice or Tabasco sauce.

I challenge a player in the circle to a color. They pick one and I take the other, with our best poker faces. Other players have to guess who got what.

It’s like the Princess Bride/A Study in Pink but no one gets poisoned!


you people are sick

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