Bucky Barnes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
imfollowinghim) wrote2014-07-28 06:36 pm
imfollowinghim) wrote2014-07-28 06:36 pm
fourteen ✪ voice
[Anyone on the second floor (or first or third, really) might have heard a couple gunshots, shattering glass and other signs of a fight not too soon before Bucky's post. Then there's another gunshot, and silence for a couple seconds before quiet voices start up - C'rizz and Bucky.
A while later, a post's on the network. Bucky's panting and his voice is hoarse and strained, either because he's exhausted or in a hell of a lot of pain (it's both), but he manages to let everyone know what the hell was going on anyway.]
Zane's dead. [That's it. That's all he wants to say about it, and it kind of seems like he's going to leave it at that before he bites out:]
We need fucking call signs or passwords next time this happens.
[And then clicks the comm off so he can figure out how he's getting to the infirmary, because he is definitely not being carried.]
A while later, a post's on the network. Bucky's panting and his voice is hoarse and strained, either because he's exhausted or in a hell of a lot of pain (it's both), but he manages to let everyone know what the hell was going on anyway.]
Zane's dead. [That's it. That's all he wants to say about it, and it kind of seems like he's going to leave it at that before he bites out:]
We need fucking call signs or passwords next time this happens.
[And then clicks the comm off so he can figure out how he's getting to the infirmary, because he is definitely not being carried.]
Spam and it still didn't let me use the right one weeeeird
And the thing is... he's honestly not sure how Bucky's feeling. Pain, yeah - but how much? He knows what that file the Black Widow got him said, but he also knows HYDRA didn't exactly run any tests to find out how quickly their version of a super soldier burned through something so inconsequential as painkillers. He also doesn't know how much Bucky's metabolism is really different, right here and now, and how much of it changed after HYDRA got their hands on him again. It feels like it's killing him, quite frankly, not to ask how Bucky's really doing, to tell him that if he needs more medication, Steve understands - but he doesn't. He can't. Not without opening a can of worms he swore to himself would stay sealed.
All he can do is hope that Bucky might, just might, say something. If he needs to. But he knows Bucky. He's not really banking on that fact.
It only takes another second or two for him to realize what woke him. Bucky's talking - well, mumbling, really, but Steve can make it out, and it's not exactly the stuff of pleasant dreams. And just as Steve starts moving, worried that Bucky's going to start thrashing around, he does - and Steve's over by the bed in a flash, touching Bucky's right shoulder, shaking him gently, not wanting to make him feel threatened, but wanting to wake him up out of it before he really hurts himself.
Besides, he shouldn't have to suffer through a nightmare any longer.] Buck - Bucky. Wake up, buddy.
[He's close enough that he might get clocked, if Bucky keeps thrashing, but it's not like that really matters.]
Spam wow dw what is wrong today :|a
Bucky wakes up quickly, not quite choking on a scream, but coming close, and half sits up before he realizes that's a bad idea. His right arm does crash into Steve, but instead of slapping him or shoving him away or God knows what else, he winds up holding onto him for support with a grip that's probably painful. Breathing hurts, and sitting up hurts, but apparently not enough to get him to flop back down just yet. Instead, Bucky takes a couple shaky gasps of air and finally slowly glances over at Steve with a look that says he's not really sure if he's there or not.]
Steve? [Bucky's eyes dart around the room, like he just needs a second to be able to see that yes, he's safe, he's not trapped there again, and only then does some of the tension start to drain out of him.
But - absurdly, because this is so not fucking happening - there's a moment where he almost just wants to scream, or cry, or hit something, because he is so fucking tired of revisiting it, of worrying about the consequences, of not being able to talk about it with anyone because he doesn't want to deal with the fact that he was tortured and experimented on like a goddamn animal. He's so tired of this, of living with it and feeling like there's no real escape from it.
Bucky lets out a shaky breath and winces when his ribs protest, squeezing his eyes shut.]
Fuck.
Spam no idea <<
But he doesn't know how. It's why he's here. To figure that out. He just thought... he'd have more time, more space to do it.
Even though he wouldn't trade having Bucky here for all the time and the space in the universe.
Steve just stays steady, not moving an inch, when Bucky wakes up. He can grab him as hard as he needs to - and he doesn't try to get Bucky to sit back down yet, either. He just lets him breathe - well, as best he can - and stays still and steady in the dark.] Yeah. It's me.
[He can feel the tension drain away, a little - and he relaxes a fraction, too, but he just stays put. He's just trying to let Bucky get his bearings, because he knows what it's like to wake up and think you were someplace else, with someone else. It can take a minute to remember what's real and what was nightmare. And then you generally remember which parts are a horrible combination of both.
So maybe it's good that it's dark enough that Bucky maybe can't see his face very well, because he probably looks like he's in as much pain as Bucky is, and he knows that's not helping. When Bucky closes his eyes, Steve tries to get his own expression under control.] Look, it happens. Don't worry about it.
[No, leave that to Steve, because he's worrying enough to feel sick. And he doesn't know what else to do, other than to tell Bucky it's okay, it happens, and he's okay, he's here, and not wherever he thought he was.] You want some water? [Although even if Bucky says yes, Steve isn't moving until he feels like Bucky's okay on his own. Honestly, just having Bucky's hand on his shoulder is probably as comforting for him as it is for Bucky.]
Spam oh well I will just imagine appropriately sad steve faces
He shakes his head at first, keeping his eyes shut for the time being, trying to pull in another breath without feeling his side flare in agony and not quite succeeding. No, he doesn't want water, and he's not sure if he wants company or space or to talk or what right now, so it's easier to just stay like this for a moment.
Finally, after a long quiet moment, he spits something out that he doesn't fully intend on verbalizing, but there it is.]
I hope they fucking killed him. [Zola, he means. He doesn't care what information he'd had that might have helped end the war, in this moment he wants Zola dead more than he's ever wanted anything. He doesn't care how it happened, but he hopes he's gone. It's only fair.
He takes another shuddery, wet breath and finally blinks up at Steve. The bruises under his eyes are already fading a little, but he still looks beat up and miserable, even as he tries to pull himself back from the ledge.]
Did I wake you up?
[There's definitely some guilt, there. Frustration too, at himself because he wishes he could go back to just being Steve's best friend, the guy who always bailed him out of trouble, not whatever mess of a person Steve had rescued from HYDRA.
Usually he's good at pretending he's still the same person. Getting hurt has just kind of stripped his ability to do so for the time being, and it feels like it's crushing him.]
Spam Yes all the appropriately sad Steve faces
For a second, in the dark, with his hair a mess and those black eyes faded but not gone, all Steve can see is the Soldier, and for that second, he stiffens, because when he hears, I hope they fucking killed him, all he can hear is that Soldier talking about Bucky Barnes, trapped inside of him somewhere.
It takes another second for him to snap out of it - the way Bucky looks up at him helps, because that's definitely Bucky looking at him, and not someone or something else. It's about then that Steve puts two and two together, figures out what (maybe) that nightmare was about, and who Bucky means.
I wish they fucking had, is all Steve can think, but he can't say it out loud. Can't tell Bucky they didn't, that they brought him home instead and employed him and let him poison SHIELD from the inside out.
So instead, he focuses on the question, shaking his head.] Nah.
[It's a lie, and Bucky can probably tell, but it doesn't matter. He doesn't care.] I was thinking about getting up, anyway. [Yeah, another lie, though he's usually up around five or six anyway, depending on the day, so maybe it's close enough. Not that it explains why they're still in the dark, but Steve's never been all that great at lying, even for people's benefit.] I think Army life beat early muster into me. [Well, that part's not a lie, at least.] Beats sleeping all day.
[Except now he's kind of rambling, so he just shuts up.]
Spam forever sad
Instead, he winds up thinking of how messed up he'd be if Steve was the one who fell off the train, how much he'd blame himself even if there was nothing he could have done to change things, and how hard it would have been to get by knowing he was gone. Sure, they have other friends and acquaintances, but it's not the same. They don't really have any other family. And all of it means he's a little more angry with himself for not doing something a little different, and a little more determined to see an inmate through to graduation.
It's why he's here. Sure, he wants to be alive again, but mostly, he wants to look out for Steve.
So Bucky catches the tail end of that look, and it's what sticks with him as Steve continues. Steve's still Steve, but there's an unfamiliar sad edge to him there that wasn't before there, and he wishes there was something he could do to help him beyond just being here and trying to remind him that he doesn't have to be Captain America all the time.
Of course he knows Steve's lying. (He'd know even if he wasn't wrapped up in how Steve probably hates all this just as much as he does, because it's not like he doesn't know Bucky's keeping things from him.) But he also knows he doesn't really mind being woken up, and that the rambling's supposed to try and smooth it over, and so Bucky sort of tries to smile.
It doesn't really work, but at least he tried.]
Sorry. [For a lot of things. But for waking him up, too.
Bucky takes another slow breath, and his grip on Steve's arm slackens a little, but he doesn't let go.] I'm okay.
[Which is a lie. He's really not, and he's not really up to pretending like he is, but he still says it.
And then he looks at Steve, brow furrowed a little.]
You're not beating yourself up about this, are you? [Asked in a tone that says "I absolutely know you are, cut that shit out."]
Spam indeed ;;
He'll never know, maybe, how long Bucky laid in the snow. If it was minutes, or hours, or days… He has to believe it was long enough that someone could have gone back for him. That's just the way this guilt works, after all.
Either way… being Captain America is all he has left. Honestly, at this point, it's a little bit of an escape, because while he's Captain America, while he's working, he doesn't have to sit alone in his apartment and think about everything that went wrong. Captain America is an escape he's been using since… well, since they woke him up, and for what time he had left, before he froze. He knows it - that's the worst part. And he's the one who always said if you started running, you'd never stop. Maybe that's what he's doing. Maybe that's why he's here. Because he's started running, and he doesn't know what to do when he stops.
He doesn't move - Bucky hasn't released him, and Steve's not about to go anywhere. He doesn't really want to, not even to get that glass of water. So he just holds himself steady, right where he is, shaking his head when Bucky apologizes. There's nothing to apologize for. Not even waking him up.
Besides, he knows Bucky's lying, too, when he says he's fine. You don't grow up in one another's back pockets, practically, without knowing when the other guy's not okay. But Steve's not about to call him on it, either.]
What, for letting Zane do that to you? [Steve knows - knows - that's not what Bucky means. But he can't help it, he plays dumb, because he just… he's not sure how to answer the real question. Because the answer he'd want to give is also a lie.] It would've been nice if I could've been there to watch your back.
[He didn't make it out of that fight with the Joker unscathed. He was just lucky enough that the most visible of it had healed, hadn't been obvious anymore by the time he'd made it to the infirmary to give Bucky a hand.]
Spam
You didn't, did you?
Anyway, Bucky lets him take the out for a moment, because he doesn't really know how to talk about this. He feels like they should, if only because it will help Steve and he's never not wanted to do that. Even during the very rare moments where they'd genuinely been angry with each other, Bucky had still dropped everything to help Steve.
So he forces a grin that doesn't really meet his eyes, just to try and make this a little easier on them both.]
I got him, didn't I? [There's some grim humor here, and then some guilt, because he'd killed a guy. Zane wasn't HYDRA, or a Nazi, or an especially bad guy, in Bucky's experience. It's a lot harder to be okay with the idea of shooting someone like that, even if he knows it was necessary and isn't really sorry about it at all.
But then he sighs softly, and tries to counter Steve's redirect and get back on the original topic.]
That's not what I meant. [Obviously.
But he doesn't know what else to say, really. You keep looking at me like I'm a ghost? I'm worried about you? He doesn't like doing shit like this most of the time, and doesn't feel especially good at it when it comes to him and how he feels about stuff sometimes, especially not at three in the morning in the dark after a bad night's sleep. Steve's also a stubborn pain in the ass, and he can bet nothing he says is actually going to get through his thick skull.
Still, he tries. Even though he's tired and sore and still a little shaken, he wants Steve to be okay.]
I'm not the only guy who has a rough time sleeping.
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.]
Spam
You know, that wouldn't be convincing if I'd just met you last week. [As is, he's known you his whole life, and you've never been good at lying to him.
(Or anyone else, but especially him.)
Besides, it's not like he hasn't noticed. On nights where he hasn't been able to fall asleep at all, or where he'd woken up before Steve did and just stayed on the floor under the blankets, he's had to gently nudge Steve awake, and either tried to talk to him, or suggest a distraction, or just pretend like he was settling back in to sleep after a quiet "thanks, Buck".
His grip on Steve's arm gets a little more gentle, like he's trying to be reassuring instead of clinging to him like a life raft anymore. The fear's ebbing away to almost nothing, and even though the painkillers have definitely worn off by now, he doesn't want to let go just yet. He gives Steve's arm a gentle squeeze, like he's trying to remind him that he's actually physically here, and this whole thing isn't some kind of crazy dream too.]
You don't have to keep looking at me like I'm gonna vanish on you, Steve. [Even as he says it, he knows he's sort of lying. At the end of the day, he has no control over how long he's going to be here, and neither does Steve. It'd happened to him before already - they could wake up tomorrow and the other might be gone, for who knows how long.
But he still finds himself saying this, because he does need to hear that Steve's okay, and to actually believe it. Maybe they'll actually be okay.] I'm with you. Thought we'd established that already.
Might be a little scuffed up right now, [He amends, trying to sound a little wry about it to help soften the blow.] But I'm still with you.
[To the end of the line, even. And he'll keep reminding his friend of that as often as he needs to.]
Spam
He never could lie to Bucky. It's why he generally doesn't try. If he's got something he doesn't want to say - and he does - he just doesn't even get close to the subject. Because the only kind of lying Steve Rogers has ever really been good at is lying by omission, and that's his only hope of keeping Bucky from finding out about everything Steve can't bear to tell him.
Unfortunately, that's a lot. And the size of that pile just makes him feel worse, with every passing day. And yet…
It's sort of amazing how Bucky can do that, can make him feel better without actually knowing what's wrong in the first place. Because that's exactly what he's just done, and Steve is actually a little floored. It's not that he didn't know those things, it's not that they didn't say 'till the end of the line and mean it. But… it's just, he hasn't actually heard those words, I'm with you, in years. He's even doubted them, in recent history. He woke up after that fight on the helicarrier, and maybe actions speak louder than words, because he hadn't expected to wake up. But he did - except it was without Bucky, and even though, deep down, he knew that there was no question - he'd chase Bucky to the ends of the Earth, to make what went wrong right again - there was still doubt. Doubt that it was the best thing for Bucky. Because Steve knows what he wants. He wants his best friend - his family - back. But if that's not what Bucky wanted…
So maybe just hearing it is - well, it's not absolution. Nothing ever will be, not even from Bucky himself. But it's bolstering. It's telling him he's decided to do the right thing. It makes things a little easier. Not much, because it's going to be hard. But enough to count.
So if Bucky wants Steve to be okay, well, he's at least taken a step in that direction. He relaxes a little, under Bucky's grip, and he nods, moving to put his hand on Bucky's knee.] Well, I've always been with you. Always will be. [Always. Even when you don't know it.
But he tries to just forget about that, for a minute. He laughs, softly.] And I've been scuffed up plenty of times, so I think I'll let it slide, this once.
[Although even in the dark, he can kind of see the lines of strain around Bucky's eyes.] Speaking of, [and he's not even really trying to change the subject, but this is important, too,] how are you holding up? [Because… sorry, pal, but you look like you're in pain a lot. And he doesn't like that.]
Spam
Bucky smiles, and even if there are lines of pain around his eyes, it's still genuine. They're okay. They're going to be okay so long as they have each other, and they have that right now. Maybe Bucky had worried about it at first when he'd found out how long it had been for Steve since he fell, but just like before, Steve obviously still needs him around.
And Bucky sure as hell needs Steve, even if he's maybe held back on finishing the sentence he'd thrown at him after Steve's mom had passed. "End of the line" seems a lot more real than it had been back then, given how things had ended, and either way, he knows Steve knows what he means. They're in this together, because they just flat out don't work as well on their own. They need each other, even if they're not always attached at the hip.
They're two pieces of work, aren't they?
He grimaces a little guiltily at Steve's question, pulling his attention back to himself for a moment, taking stock of what hurts and what doesn't.]
Not great. [Pretty bad he means, because his ribs are throbbing and his palm itches where the shiv he'd used to try and cut Zane had bit into his skin, and his head still feels kind of fucked up, but he doesn't want to fess up about how little the drugs are doing for him anymore than he had back when he'd first started realizing it was happening.
Still, he admitted that much, instead of trying to act like he was completely fine. So appreciate that?]
I did kinda get my ass handed to me. Head feels a little clearer though. [Which is a good thing.
He pats Steve's arm affectionately before finally letting go, if only because he's starting to get a little shaky from exertion and pain now that the adrenaline's wearing off.]
I can move over, if you wanna get off the couch for a while. [Or maybe that's just his way of asking for company, because he still feels like shit, but he has no idea when he's going to manage sleep again, given how bad everything feels.]
Spam
Of course, it made it a lot easier to get lost, when they didn't. He needs Bucky - he'll always need Bucky, for a hundred different reasons. First and foremost of which is that he doesn't take shit from Steve, doesn't let Steve get away with squat. And it's sort of nice to have someone to answer to, especially when you're like Steve, and decide that taking care of everyone else comes first - and at the expense of taking care of yourself.
Then again… that's sort of Bucky's MO, and it's the reason Steve doesn't take shit from him, either.
Which is why he's glad when Bucky's at least pretty honest, when he admits he doesn't feel great. Steve just nods, humming a little - he's not about to point out that Bucky had his ass handed to him, but if Bucky's going to say it, he's not going to argue. He is glad to hear his head feels better, though, because that was honestly the most worrying part of it all.] That's good. Nothing like feeling like your head's stuffed with cotton to really bring a guy down.
[He pauses for a second - seriously considering just brushing the offer off, because Bucky needs the bed more than he does. But he can sort of read between the lines, and honestly, a little company wouldn't be unwelcome on his part, either.
He smiles, shifting up as Bucky lets go of his arm, so he can slide onto the bed - ideally jostling it and its occupant as little as possible.] You don't have to move much.
[And even if Bucky does move, Steve's going to try to take up as little room as possible on the bed as he settles down, which probably looks, admittedly, a little ridiculous. But just like it's always been instinct for Bucky to make sure there's a little more food on Steve's plate than on his (and don't think he never noticed), it's also instinct for Steve to make sure there's more room on Bucky's side of the bed than on his.]
Spam
Yeah, you'd know. [Steve's probably lucky he's got a functional brain at all, considering all the blows to the head he's taken over the years.
Bucky's just happy he's able to bounce back more quickly than he used to.
And he does scoot over a little to make room, because he's used to Steve pulling this and he knows that it had worked a little better when Steve was a lot smaller. Now Steve just takes up more room in the first place, and Bucky doesn't want him falling out of the bed or anything, and Steve's a stubborn pain in the ass about far more trivial things, so it's a weird little dance routine they find themselves caught up in, most of the time.
But he doesn't go far, partially because it really fucking hurts to move at all, and maybe because he doesn't really mind being kind of crammed close anyway. They've done this a million times before, as kids, teenagers, young adults, after Steve had sprung him from the factory and when they'd been stuck out in the middle of nowhere Belgium in some shitty, half flooded foxhole, so this is fine. Comfortable, familiar, all of that.
(Just don't go elbowing him in the ribs by accident, that probably won't end well tonight.)
Bucky shifts a little so he can comfortably look at Steve from where he's lying, biting the inside of his cheek to stop from grunting in pain when he does so, but then he settles in more or less for good.]
Sorry I'm not great company these days. [It's half a joke, because it's not like it's a secret as to why he's not been his usual sunny self.
Sort of.]
Spam
Not that he hasn't always had a hard head, at least figuratively. Sheer stubbornness has seen him through a lot. He doesn't plan to give up that technique anytime soon, either.] I would know - so I know it's gonna take a couple of days to clear up.
[And you don't have to go pretending you're fine in the meantime. Steve still thinks Bucky's hiding a lot, but at least he's not hiding everything. Besides, Steve's hiding some, too, because he's got a hunch, based on how well painkillers work for him (which is to say, not at all, unless they're dosed for a pack of elephants), but he can't say a damn thing, so the best he can do is try to give Bucky as many outs as he can.
Which includes trying to slide on the bed without making him move at all, but that doesn't quite work and he tries to hide the wince as Bucky looks less than comfortable, at least while he's trying to find a good spot. But he does sort of appreciate not being in danger of falling off the bed; he'll also promise no elbows to the ribs. There's more room on here than anything else they've shared. Steve's suddenly glad he opted for something bigger than a twin - because it probably sounds ridiculous, but that's all he'd ever had, and it's what he'd considered getting, pushing six-foot-two or not. Now he's really, really glad he splurged on something bigger, even if it felt ridiculous to him to have so much damn space to sleep.
He does laugh quietly, though, shrugging with the shoulder that's not settled into the mattress.] Like you're ever good company? [But he's teasing.] Buck, it's fine. Being laid up's the worst, and I know it. You're just not used to it - and I promise, being used to it doesn't make it better, anyway.
You'll be back up on your feet before you know it. [He'd believe that, anyway, even without what he already knows.] Sometimes I wonder how the Admiral expects us to get anything done, with all this other... stuff going on. Although I guess there's something to be said for character-building under adversity.
[He sounds wry, because come on, if you consider character-building under adversity, he and Bucky should be overflowing with character.]
Spam
Asshole, [He quips right back with a small grin, because please, he's always good company. The smile tapers off for a moment while he listens (strange, how this conversation has kind of been turned on his head, because how many times has he told Steve he'll be feeling better in no time?), but he barks out a genuine laugh at the next part, which hurts a little, but he's not sorry about it.]
What, we haven't done enough of that already?
[He knows Steve is kidding, but he still lifts his right hand, and starts ticking off items on his fingers.]
Orphans, growing up poor, trying to hold down a steady job and not wind up on the street, you being sick all the fucking time, running into a goddamn world war? [His grin falters a little bit, because they know what came after that. Bucky's death, Steve's crash, winding up alone in the future.
They've been handed shitty hand after shitty hand, and they usually figure out a way to make it work. Usually.
Except Bucky's dead, and Steve's alone and clearly depressed, and honestly? He's really, really sick of needing to fight tooth and nail for everything, and he's ten times sicker of seeing the universe use Steve as a punching bag.
Which doesn't mean he's not going to fight, or struggle, or lose whatever optimism he's been able to hang onto, but he still wishes things were easier, on Steve at least.
He drops his hand back to the mattress, still smirking.]
I'm scared as hell of what the Admiral'd come up with for us next.
[And again, it's a joke, and it's not. It's not like Bucky had been able to keep Steve safe the way he'd want to during the war, but at least he'd known what they were up against. Here, he could be the one hurting Steve, or not even remember him, or who knows what else?
At least he's safe right now.]
Spam
Not bad enough not to make a face when Bucky insults him right back, though. Besides, he has to chuckle a little when Bucky starts listing things, despite everything.] Yeah, we've kind of done it all, huh? Doesn't explain why you're still a miscreant, then.
[Like Steve's not more of a troublemaker than Bucky ever was. And he knows it. Steve's the one who was always picking fights - oh, sure, Bucky picked a few, but he was mostly pulling Steve out of them, not running into them without good cause. Not that Steve would say he never had good cause. But it doesn't change things, either.
And he'd rather focus on the stupid stuff than anything that's been happening lately, in 1945 or in 2014 or whenever. And even though he knows Bucky is half joking, about what the Admiral might come up with, he knows he's half serious. And it does worry Steve, too. There's so much that could go wrong. There's so much that has gone wrong. What if the Admiral decides it's better if Steve tells the truth? What then?
But he just has to figure they'll cross that bridge when they come to it. It's what they've always done in the past. All the planning in the world gets you nowhere when life throws you curveballs, fastballs, spitballs, and then fires a cannon or few at you, to boot.
And he still knows he got the easy end of the deal.
Still, he manages to smile and point out,] Well, he's already turned you into a woman.
[And that… went okay? Except for the part where he still hopes Becky is… back home, wherever she belongs. It wasn't just Bucky in a woman's body. It was a completely different - and yet similar - person.]
I guess we'd better just hang on for the ride, and avoid giving him any ideas. [He lets out a breath.] Besides, you'll be back on your feet before anything else comes up. [Okay, he's only been here two months, but it's been consistent so far. Even with this unexpected adventure, there's been a lull between things. He hopes that holds.] As long as you take it easy now.
[Hint, hint.]
Spam
[Which is all true, of course, but the thing is? Bucky's always known Steve's the better man of the two of them. That's only gotten clearer after the war, because Bucky's felt pieces of his humanity chip and fray, and he'd like to think he's not a monster, but there's still something fractured, there.
Steve fights bullies. Bucky kills people, and he'd do it forever if it'd keep Steve (and the free world, and innocent people, but mostly Steve) safe, and he'd stopped feeling sorry for the bodies he's left behind a long time ago.
(People keep reassuring him about killing Zane, and they don't need to. He's sorry, sure, because the guy hadn't been in his right mind, but he'd do it again. No question. Hadn't been when it'd happened, either.)
And that's why it's harder still to know that his friend still can't seem to catch a break. It's not fair. Steve deserves so much more than that, and Bucky wishes he could just give it to him, the same way he'd been able to hand over an extra apple or a warmer jacket, but he can't, and it's not fair.
So maybe that train of thought makes his answering smile a little slow, maybe a little faded, but he manages one anyway.]
At least I was good looking. [He's thought about what happens to them too, the people who get brought here because of a flood. There's already at least one other Barge out there, maybe, and Jean had known him as a teenager in tights and a domino mask, so the idea that there are other universes out there probably isn't too hard to wrap your mind around.
But Steve's right, there's nothing they can really do but sit around and wait. Bucky's definitely not complaining (yet) about having some downtime to recover from the last catastrophe.]
This might come as a surprise, [Considering what you'd probably be doing if their positions were reversed, you know it, Bucky knows it.] But I'm not really planning on running a marathon any time soon.
[Because he's not an idiot, unlike certain other people.
Bucky gets quiet for a moment, letting out a soft breath, expression getting a little distant and pensive before all of that vanishes behind another small smile.]
I'm really glad you're here, pal.
Spam
[Yeah, except for the shit-eating grin on his face.
Still. Things have changed, a lot. But even then… fractured or not, Bucky's not a monster. He never will be. No one, nothing, will ever convince Steve otherwise. Never. And if he's got to remind Bucky of that until he's blue in the face… well, he will. That's what friends do.
(And honestly? Steve might have killed Zane too, had he been where Bucky was. He's usually got the luxury of subduing someone by sheer advantage of greater strength rather than killing them. But not always. And someone like Zane? He's not sure he could subdue him. Especially not when Zane can use the shield against him, because that's one of Steve's bigger advantages. He doesn't expect Bucky to feel sorry about it, and he won't ask him to. Steve's not unhappy with the way things turned out. Maybe he should be more impartial, but he's only human. He'd go to very, very great lengths for Bucky. He will, he knows it.)
And if he deserves anything, it's the ability to want to give the people he cares about a better life. Anything he can do to make that happen… he'd argue he deserves that chance. That's all.
He laughs a little, though, shrugging the one shoulder again. Becky was good-looking, yeah, and she knew it. She'd probably used it, if she'd had to. But she was a lot more than looks. He'd argue Bucky is, too, because Bucky never did have any trouble in that department, either.]
No? That's good. 'Cause I'd probably have to tie you up to stop you, and you'd grouch about it. Endlessly.
[He'll just ignore the fact that yeah… you'd think Steve would have had enough practice at being stuck in bed to be gracious about it. But he's never been. The instant he felt minutely better, he's always tried to get up, get back to normal, sometimes with very poor consequences. And yet, the next time… he just gets right up and tries again.
Although that genuine expression, a minute later, means more than he can say.]
So am I. [Because if Bucky had had to be here alone, feeling guilty and not knowing what had happened to Steve - well. He feels guilty, and he's pissed about what did happen. But this has still got to be better than the alternative. It's better than the alternative of Steve being here alone, mired in his own thoughts, or trying to ignore them and throwing himself into his work. He's still doing a little bit of both, but getting Bucky back, here, helps to remind him just what he's fighting for, what he wants - needs - to do back home. It's not a solution, but it's not a problem.] I seriously never expected to see you - here.
[Not again, because that's not true. Not after what's just happened back home. But he can't say that, so he doesn't.] I missed this. [Not living alone - not being alone. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like, in just two years.] Even with your occasional bitching.
[But he doesn't mean that. Bitch away, Bucky. Someone's got to keep him honest.]
Spam
Thank God for Dr. Erskine.
And he did have to live through that - being without Steve and knowing about what happened - for a little while, and it was horrible. It'd only been about a month between him dying and Steve showing up here, and it's probably embarrassing how badly he'd missed having him around. Bucky had missed him during basic and when he'd shipped out, too, but that had been kind of different. As much as he'd thought he was going to die in Italy, and in the factory, that had still felt different. At least Steve had been home and more or less safe, and he wouldn't blame himself for Bucky getting killed.
(Well, Steve probably would have found a way to feel guilty anyway, but Bucky'd like to think it'd be less crazy than it was now.)
This is different. Bucky had died watching Steve's back, and he'd known how badly his friend would be taking it, and it made the rest of it - dying, being dead, dealing with being out of alignment with everyone else when it came to things like technology and pop culture and everything else - harder than it needed to be.]
Yeah, well, you're lucky you've got someone who'll put up with your bullshit. [And would call you on it. Endlessly. That's his job.
Bucky reaches over to pat Steve's shoulder gently, affectionate, trying to solidify that yeah, he's here and real and all that.]
Missed you, too.
[Again, for the whole month he was here by himself.
It was a long month.]
Spam
And he is, quite honestly, even glad to have Bucky around to call him on his bullshit. He'd do a hell of a lot, put up with a hell of a lot, just to have Bucky around. Anything, pretty much, seems like a fair trade-off at this point, because it's never, ever gotten easier not to have him around.
And he truly can't imagine what it was like for Bucky, for even that single month. He's just sorry it was a whole month. But he's also glad it wasn't longer.
Besides, he knows a month can feel like a very, very long time.
Just like that hand on his shoulder, and everything it means, feels so very, very good. He doesn't know if he'll ever really, truly get this back. It's what he wants, but he doesn't have the answers, he doesn't know what HYDRA's done, how much of it can be fixed.
So he's just got to try to enjoy this now, while he can, and let it be part of the reason he'll never, ever give up chasing Bucky down back home.]
Well, if you're gonna keep putting up with my bullshit, then you can put up with me saying you should go back to sleep, too. You still need, it, buddy.
And I'm not sleeping until you do.
[If Steve looks like he knows he's using Bucky's protectiveness against him... well. He does. And he is.]
Spam
Alright, alright. [Steve's definitely using his weakness against him, and for the time being... he doesn't mind.
God knows he probably does need sleep, even more than he usually does.] I can take a hint.
[So he takes his hand back and does his best to get comfortable, even if he needs to keep his breathing shallow and slow to avoid feeling like he's getting stabbed in the lungs. He's still resting on his uninjured side, and gropes around for a moment until his fingers close on a blanket that he promptly tosses at Steve. A second one gets sort of haphazardly draped over his legs, but he doesn't move to pull it up any higher.
Apparently satisfied, he closes his eyes and lets out a slow breath.]
Night Steve.
Spam
Might be the first time, [Steve says, smiling a little smugly, partly to be all the more annoying, but partly because he's actually glad Bucky's seen his point. He lets Bucky get comfortable (or as comfortable as he can, with busted ribs) and snorts a little when the blanket he assumed was going over Bucky comes flying his way - he shouldn't have been surprised. He settles down with extreme care next to his best friend; Steve's never tended to toss and turn, but now it's all the more important to make sure he's not going to smack or kick Bucky in his sleep. And Bucky's left him more than enough room; Steve eyes the other side of the bed, but there's enough room for Bucky, too, so he doesn't say anything. It's not both of them trying to squeeze onto a twin, anymore, which is good because that really, really doesn't work anymore.]
Night, Buck.