[Not exactly? But mainly because he had backup who could take a wallop like that far better than he could ever hope to. (He's still impressed. Kara shook that thing off like a static shock.)]
Yeah. But that's not the point. [And Steve knows it. He doesn't think Bucky did anything wrong - his life was in danger, and he did something about it. He'd really prefer things not to have gone the other way. But killing isn't something that's easy for either of them. Oh, it's easy to pull a trigger. Easy to end someone's life, the physical act of killing. But there's so much more to it than the physical. Taking a life never starts or ends with the actual instant of death. Not for people like them. Sometimes that's what tells him they're doing okay. Or as okay as they can be.
His mouth twists a little, a sort of wry yet sheepish look when Bucky catches him at the playing dumb game. Even if he calls him on it pretty pointedly a second later.
Steve can't help but let out a breath. Touché.] Nah, I guess not. [He shrugs a little, shoulder moving under Bucky's grip, but not enough to dislodge him. He's still here, and he's not going anywhere no matter how uncomfortable the conversation may or may not get.] Everyone has bad dreams.
[Everyone maybe meaning soldiers, in this case. People who have lived through war, who have taken lives, who've seen the lives of those they care about snuffed out, and maybe who haven't had the luxury to stop and think about it at the time. But it always comes back to you later. Sometimes when you're least prepared - although he's not sure you can ever be prepared, either.
Sometimes, it's still hard for him to think of himself as a soldier. Sometimes he feels like a little kid, playing at being a soldier like daddy. Being a soldier was almost all he ever wanted out of life. And yet sometimes he can't actually believe it's happened, or that he deserves the fact that it did.
Although, when he does have nightmares… it becomes all too clear, the price he paid.
But here and now, he's pretty sure that's worry in Bucky's eyes, and it feels ridiculous, when Steve is fine (physically) and Bucky's the one laid up in bed.] It doesn't mean I'm not okay. [Because he knows that's what Bucky wants to hear. That Steve is okay.
Well, it'd be nice if it sounded a little more convincing, maybe.]
Spam
Yeah. But that's not the point. [And Steve knows it. He doesn't think Bucky did anything wrong - his life was in danger, and he did something about it. He'd really prefer things not to have gone the other way. But killing isn't something that's easy for either of them. Oh, it's easy to pull a trigger. Easy to end someone's life, the physical act of killing. But there's so much more to it than the physical. Taking a life never starts or ends with the actual instant of death. Not for people like them. Sometimes that's what tells him they're doing okay. Or as okay as they can be.
His mouth twists a little, a sort of wry yet sheepish look when Bucky catches him at the playing dumb game. Even if he calls him on it pretty pointedly a second later.
Steve can't help but let out a breath. Touché.] Nah, I guess not. [He shrugs a little, shoulder moving under Bucky's grip, but not enough to dislodge him. He's still here, and he's not going anywhere no matter how uncomfortable the conversation may or may not get.] Everyone has bad dreams.
[Everyone maybe meaning soldiers, in this case. People who have lived through war, who have taken lives, who've seen the lives of those they care about snuffed out, and maybe who haven't had the luxury to stop and think about it at the time. But it always comes back to you later. Sometimes when you're least prepared - although he's not sure you can ever be prepared, either.
Sometimes, it's still hard for him to think of himself as a soldier. Sometimes he feels like a little kid, playing at being a soldier like daddy. Being a soldier was almost all he ever wanted out of life. And yet sometimes he can't actually believe it's happened, or that he deserves the fact that it did.
Although, when he does have nightmares… it becomes all too clear, the price he paid.
But here and now, he's pretty sure that's worry in Bucky's eyes, and it feels ridiculous, when Steve is fine (physically) and Bucky's the one laid up in bed.] It doesn't mean I'm not okay. [Because he knows that's what Bucky wants to hear. That Steve is okay.
Well, it'd be nice if it sounded a little more convincing, maybe.]