[ bucky still doesn't understand the science behind steve from back then being here now, and doesn't care enough to try to learn. what matters is this: alternate (parallel, very similar) timeline, so it's not likely to screw up their own, and no one has any idea how to send him back with the stones gone. a bunch of big brains and sorcerers are on it, but in the meantime, steve has to live, and the grc decided it knew better than to try to keep bucky from taking him home with him.
steve rogers had defied the entire world for bucky, and if they think bucky will do any less for steve, they're out of their goddamn minds.
so bucky takes him home to delacroix.
he knows he's not what steve remembers--older, quieter, unemotive, unsmiling--but he hopes he's still some kind of comfort, anyway. the apartment he lets them into is small and only a little more furnished than his last one had been, but there are more personal touches than before, at least, with a few framed photos on the wall and drawings from sam's nephews on the fridge. ]
You can take the bedroom, [ he tells him with a small, wry smile as he pulls his jacket and gloves off, shoving them in the closet near the door. ] I sleep on the couch most nights. [ or the floor, though those nights are fewer and fewer as time goes on and he heals. ] Sorry it's not much, I've only lived here a couple of months. [ and he's still getting out of the habit of living like he's going to have to pick up and leave at a moment's notice. ]
please also ignore my dust, it's been awhile since i played him ;;;
[the world has changed, and steve hasn't yet seen enough of it to decide whether or not it's for the better. the biggest part of steve's own - right in front of him as he unlocks the door to let them in - has obviously changed too, and whatever questions and concerns he has, for now only one thing matters: it's bucky.
he's never really felt the need for an anchor, stubbornly never let himself need one, which forced his friend to be the one always chasing after him, always getting him out of his own messes or cleaning them up. but things are strange enough right now that steve needs it, needs him, whether he wants to admit it or not.
his eyes dart around the apartment, what few things he has in an army duffle bag slung over one shoulder. it feels strange, and his mind keeps flashing back to their conversation after his ma had died.
steve blinks out of his thoughts to look up at him.]
I don't mind taking the couch. [it's enough that bucky's putting a roof over his head, much less giving him his own bed.] No, it's fine. It's nice.
[it's overwhelming. he feels like he's constantly at the edge of an asthma attack, always needing to take a deep breath.]
[ bucky rolls his eyes good-naturedly at the offer to take the couch, plucking the duffel off steve's shoulder whether he likes it or not and crossing the living room toward the bedroom. it's even more impersonal than the rest of the apartment, the bed perfectly made with box-corners and very obviously not slept in any time recently. he dumps the duffel atop the quilt, planting his prosthetic fist on his hip as he arches his brows at the other man. ]
I like being able to see the front door, [ he tells him, because he knows how steve is, and knows he'll try to take the couch again if bucky doesn't give him a good reason not to.
he hesitates at the question, then goes to the bedroom window, pulling up the blinds so steve can see out onto the street if he wants. ] Sorry. It's 2024, and this is Delacroix in Louisiana. It's-- [ he pauses briefly, then turns back to the shorter man and leans his hips against the windowsill. ] It's a long story, but the guy I work with lives here, and he and his family are.. kind of my connection to the world, I guess. Or they have been. [ he'd been pretty lost without steve.
another, slightly longer pause, and he glances down, rubbing his hands absently over the tops of his thighs. ] I know it's a lot. And I know I'm.. not.. [ a strangled, anxious moment. ] I know I'm not the same guy you know back home. There's some stuff I have to tell you about, about living here with me, and if you don't-- I mean, if you're not comfortable after that, I can introduce you to Sam and Sarah, and you could stay with one of them if you want. Sam would never turn you away.
[2024. if it was anyone else, steve might not believe them. but when he follows and walks over to the window to look out, it's hard to deny his own eyes. everything moves so fast: the cars, the people. it makes him wonder what it is about 2024 that has everyone in such a hurry.
his focus shifts until he catches his own partial reflection in the glass.]
Technically that makes me a hundred and six years old. I didn't expect to make it to half that.
[and he bets that bucky secretly didn't either. steve gives the taller man a sardonic smile before he turns his back to the window. but the smile falls away completely as he continues.]
Buck. Bucky. [because the other is starting down a road that they don't need to go.] It's okay. I can handle it. [war changes people, and he gets the sick sinking feeling in his stomach that war is only half of what his friend has been through. there's no way he's abandoning him.] Whatever it is, I'm with you. Remember?
I know. [ he does know. knows steve wouldn't have lived that long if he'd continued on this way. every stray cough or mild fever had been cause to be afraid once, when bucky had been this young, too. he'd gone to europe and been terrified that if he made it home, steve would be gone, taken by illness long before bucky had any inkling of it.
he knows, too, that the other man isn't going anywhere, and he knows steve would stay no matter how unhappy and uncomfortable he was, because if he thought bucky needed him--and he does, always--that'd be the end of it. ] I just.. want you to know it's okay. All of this-- [ he gestures to take in the whole damn world. ] It's already a lot for you to have to adjust to, pal, I don't want to lay too much on you before you're ready to deal with it.
[ but the truth is, if steve's going to stay, he needs to know about bucky's.. issues. he doesn't want to accidentally hurt him because he dared to try to wake him from a nightmare.
for now, he offers him a wan smile. ] Before we get down to brass tacks.. you hungry? I could order something. [ he digs his phone out of his pocket--new, a smartphone he thinks is wasted on him, but that sam had encouraged him to get anyway--and unlocks the screen, offering it out for steve to see and hold if he wants. he'd had a much easier time of it than steve, adjusting to the modern world the first time. the winter soldier had the benefit of being used frequently over the decades, so while a lot of aspects of the current world are fairly new for him, he already had a lot of the basics of society and technology-- as they applied to his work, at least. but steve? he's coming directly from the 40s. it must feel like he's in a sci-fi novel right now. ]
This is what phones look like now. It's like.. if you took a phone, a movie theater, a radio, every library on the planet, and a bunch of other stuff, and squished it down into something you can stick in your pocket and carry around.
[steve never wanted him to worry about him, not that that ever stopped him. bucky had his own life to think about, his own family. his own future. the only thing bucky needed to worry about was making sure he made it back home to all of that. steve's still unsure if he actually did.]
You don't have to go to any trouble. I can make us a couple of sandwiches.
[he should at least do that much. he's going to insist on doing more than that, though he's still drawing the line at shining his shoes. probably. he pushes away from the window, then pauses when bucky offers his phone. he takes it, frowning thoughtfully down at the screen.]
Wow, that's...that's really something.
[and it really is. he didn't see any flying cars outside the window, but it seems like everything has progressed by leaps and bounds nonetheless.
but. and bucky probably heard that "but" in his voice, he's just not sure how to continue without sounding like a grandpa. steve blinks before looking up again.]
I guess I just don't understand why you need all those things in your pocket all the time.
[they'd grown up with actual theaters, and radios, and libraries, and they'd seemed to work just fine. but he does offer him a faint smile.]
How many girls' phone numbers you got in this thing?
I'll be honest, I'm not sure I have much in my cabinets worth eating right now. I haven't picked up groceries in a couple of days.
[ he'd been busy, and sarah's had them over a couple of nights to feed them. still, if steve wants to look through the kitchen and see if anything's salvageable, he won't fuss. it's one small bit of normalcy for him in the midst off this decidedly not-normal storm.
the next comment earns a quick, fond smile, helpless in his affection. ] You'd be surprised how handy it is to be able to look something up real quick, but I don't see much use in most of it, either. Guess it's just our generation. [ a beat, and the smile slips, turning a little awkward as he takes the phone back, glancing down at it briefly. ] .. Does my therapist count? [ and there's sarah, but.. ] I don't really-- All that's behind me, pretty much. Dating, fucking around.
[ he turns the phone between his palms to give his hands something to do, debating on how much he wants to actually say. ]
Even if I was interested, I've got a.. reputation. It's hard for people to look past that sometimes. [ his smile smooths out into faint amusement. ] I have a display in the Smithsonian, though. It's part of a much bigger Steve Rogers installation.
[steve's no stranger to lean times, and the "make something out of nothing" that comes with it. he can help bucky this way, pull his own weight. the idea of that is always at the forefront of his mind. so he waits for the other man to lead him to the kitchen, and almost immediately finds a few potatoes that aren't too spotty, and a few eggs that are barely over their expiration date. yeah, he can work with this. he searches the drawers until he finds a small knife to peel with, and he listens and thinks about bucky's words as he does.]
What's the therapist for? [he keeps his eyes downcast for a moment, in case that's one of the things that bucky's not ready to talk about. but eventually he does look up, and his eyes dart to the silver arm.] Got something to do with that? And do you kiss your ma with that mouth?
[he smirks a little when his friend tosses around the curse word. he's heard worse, actually. even a few days in the army was more than enough time for that. but his smile fades as he sighs at himself.]
Buck...I'm sorry.
[because it's 2024, and they're still here but his friend's parents are surely gone. his whole family...gone.]
[ he knows steve needs to feel useful, needs to feel like he's got some control, particularly considering how little he has over so much of his life, so although bucky's instinct is to help with the potatoes, he leaves it to the younger man. instead, he goes to the fridge, pulling out two beers and opening them up, offering one out. ]
It's okay, [ he reassures him, even though it doesn't feel okay that his family had died without ever knowing what happened to him. it's for the best, though, he knows; he wouldn't have wanted any of them to know about the winter soldier.
he takes a sip of his beer as he considers the question, giving himself a few moments to decide whether or not he's.. ready. but it's not like he can avoid it for long, is it? anyone steve meets here will know who bucky barnes is. ]
It was part of my pardon requirements, [ he admits abruptly, setting the beer down on the counter and glancing down at his prosthetic as he does so, flexing the fingers. ] I was-- I was captured. My whole unit was. That's actually how you really became a hero, y'know? [ he folds his arms, leaning his hip against the counter. ] The army was giving us up for dead, but you refused. You dropped in way behind enemy lines and you came for us. For me.
[ that's not the point and he needs to get to the point, but it's surprisingly hard to talk about this with a steve that doesn't already know. ]
Anyway, I didn't know it at the time, but Hydra was experimenting with a knock-off supersoldier serum based on Erskine's work. [ he gestures to himself with a thin upward tilt of his lips that can hardly be called a smile. ] So.. when I fell off a train during a mission, you thought I died. I should've died. Any normal person would have died. But.. I didn't, and the Soviets found me. It's how I lost my arm. [ he inhales through his nose, a little shaky. ] They, uh.. [ he shifts again, then lifts his hand, making a circle gesture near his temple. ] They fucked with my head, brainwashed me, wiped my memories. Made me a.. weapon, more or less, and that's how I spent the next eighty years.
[ he stares down at his beer sweating on the countertop, refusing to look at steve, feeling the familiar sick, empty pit in his chest. ]
I killed.. a lot of people. And I would have kept on like that, just an empty thing to be used, if you hadn't helped me get my mind back. [ he makes a vague gesture with a hand. ] Once people knew what the Russians and Hydra did to me, I was pardoned, but mandated therapy was one of the conditions.
[steve puts the knife down, turning and taking the beer with a soft thanks. he lifts it, but it only makes it halfway to his lips before the can ends up slowly lowered again. what bucky describes is one of the things that he worried about most. he never underestimated the war. men were taken prisoner. men died, and lots of 'em. he thought about bucky every day, wondered if he was alive and well. and every night he prayed that he was. that he would stay safe until he could reach him.
so naturally he has to grip the counter behind him with his free hand when he hears that bucky was captured after all. hearing himself called a hero for coming for him feels wrong. it wasn't a heroic thing to do, it was the right thing to do, and people tend to get those things mixed up for some reason. but steve knows that bucky would've done the same.
he makes a second attempt to drink, and again the can pauses. so when i fell off a train during a mission... bucky says it as casual as you please, like he's talking about falling off of a bunk bed during a slumber party. but it makes for an unpleasant feeling in steve's chest, a pain that makes its way into his expression no matter how hard he tries to hide it. captain america. a hero. when bucky's been through much and he wasn't able to do a damn thing about it- it hurts. it hurts to watch bucky talk about what he's been through, hurts to watch him relive a little of it now as he does. but steve doesn't let himself look away.
it's bucky who looks away first, right before he makes a confession that has steve doubting his own ears. his hand closes a ittle tighter around the beer can, but it remains steady. and finally, steve lifts it in one swift motion to down half of the contents at once. it's a bit much, and he wavers a little on his feet after he swallows, but to be fair it might not even be the alcohol's fault.]
I should've been with you. [now he finally does look down, voice grim but also firm.] From the very beginning, through the war and getting caught. The fall...all of it. It should've been me.
[ steve downs half the beer in one go, and in spite of himself, bucky starts a half-step forward, hands reaching to hover at the other man's elbows if he stumbles. captain america could drink every beer on earth, probably, and it wouldn't do much to him, but steve rogers before the serum?
still, he's not sure it's really the beer so much as.. the rest. it's a lot. he knows it's a lot. it's a lot even for bucky, and he'd lived it.
when he knows the other man's steady, he withdraws again, putting a little distance between them in case.. in case. he knows steve better than anyone else, even with bucky's head as fucked up as it is, but hearing eighty years of murder is still a shock, he knows. so when the blond speaks up to say that, bucky's eyes finally lift, startled. ] --Hey, no, it's not your fault. [ he reaches out again, prosthetic hand squeezing one skinny arm with precise, gentle pressure. ] You kinda' had a lot on your plate, pal. And maybe.. [ he trails off a little uncertainly, brows knitting. ] You know, maybe once we manage to get you home, you and your own Buck will be okay.
[ he hopes so. it would be nice to think that somewhere out there, steve and bucky get to have.. normal lives after the war. at least, as close to normal as they can have. ]
[he looks up when bucky steps back, wondering if he caused that. regretful if he did. bucky's no murderer, steve knows that as well as he knows his own name. he doesn't hold any fear or judgment toward his friend. it's just like he said, these people changed him. used him. he can feel the anger at them rising up inside him, and a bitter taste in his mouth along with it.
steve snorts when he says that he had a lot on his plate. what kind of excuse is that? he doesn't buy it. no, somewhere along the line, he failed him. was he even really that much help after? because he keeps hearing about sam, and bucky's therapist...maybe they're the ones who've really helped bucky pick up the pieces.
he blinks a couple of times at the last thing the other man says, looking confused and then determined. the familiar steve rogers stubbornness makes itself known.]
Maybe so. But I'm not going anywhere until I'm sure that you're okay.
[and with that he has to return to peeling his potatoes, which kind of swim in front of his eyes now, forcing him to knit his brows in concentration.]
[ he can see the exact moment that steve squares himself up against the facts facing him, and the nostalgia hits bucky so hard that he has to flatten his hand against the counter to keep himself steady. he can remember that look with perfect, unclouded clarity; it's the same look steve had worn over and over again when confronted by a challenge, no matter how many times he was knocked down.
but this isn't something that can just be out-stubborned. ]
Steve, [ he protests, quiet, eyes fixed between skinny shoulder-blades. ] I'm never going to be okay. [ it's just something he's had to come to terms with. the asset is always going to be a part of him, no matter how hard he tries to kill it. ] I'm getting better, and I'm gonna' keep getting better, but if we can find a way to send you home, I want you to go home.
[ he shifts on his feet, then steps forward, pulling himself up on the countertop near the stove so he can see steve's face. he reaches out, gently poking the younger man in the temple. ]
He needs you. He's always gonna' need you. [ bucky wouldn't take steve's happy ending away for anything, but god, he misses him every day. there are days where knowing he's not there anymore makes bucky want to not be here anymore, either. having sam helps more than even sam realizes, but he still.. struggles. if there's a chance he can save some version of himself and steve from the shit he and his own steve went through, then he's going to try. ]
[ he doesn't like to talk about the asset, or his years as hydra's pet assassin, and there's probably no point in trying yet when they still don't know if this is actually going to go anywhere. after all, maybe matt will realize that bucky's too much work. it's not a very charitable idea, especially when everything bucky does know about him says exactly the opposite of the other man--no one seems to be too much work for him--but he prefers to expect the worst and be pleasantly surprised if it doesn't happen.
he peels a strip of the label off, rolling it between his fingers, his glance drifting to matt's hands instead. he doesn't have lawyer's hands. his fingers are strong, callused. they look like they know work, maybe even how to fight and defend himself and others. there's a part of him that wants to reach out, find out what they feel like beneath his own hand. the rest of him knows it's too early in the night to be ready for that. ]
[It's too early for a guy from the era Bucky had been born into and had dated in. Considering there were apps out there for people specifically to hook up and bang, a little hand touching on the first date wouldn't shock him. Hell, he'd invite it. So he'd have to show that offer in other more subtle ways. He really hoped they wound up going dancing. Even if he couldn't shake and shimmy, the idea of a little slow shuffling sounded just amazing to him. But he was old fashioned in his own way.
The comment catches him a little off guard, and it shows in the raised brows. But that's followed with a smile, and he tips his head a bit as he answers.]
I'm sure you don't want to hear about tenement cases or insurance claims. But if there's something you'd like to know... ask. I'm not really good at figuring out what parts of my life to share and what to keep. I'm curious what you're curious about.
I'll listen if you want to talk about those things.
[ he's good at that, sitting quietly and patiently, for hours or even days if need be. he'd been a sniper during the war, after all, and that skill had carried over into his years as the winter soldier, when he'd been pushed far beyond normal human limits during his assignments.
it's certainly not that dire now, of course, but even so. he lifts his bottle, tapping the rim against his lower lip as he considers. ]
Ah. Well, I was planning on being a doctor. My dad, he uh, he was a boxer. I wound up patching him up a lot and figured that knowing what I was doing was the better option. Then...
[He tapped his glasses, smiling, but it was a little sad.]
My dad still insisted on me going to school and making something of myself. Growing up in Hell's Kitchen, the thing it needed more than doctors was someone that knew the law. That wouldn't let people who couldn't afford to be kicked around wind up on the bottom of someone's shoe. After my dad died... I don't know. It seemed like the thing to do. The city has a lot of people like Fisk, people under him that branch out and infect it like some kind of unseen cancer. Maybe-
[He licked his lips, head dipping down a little as he felt the condensation on the bottle run over his finger.]
Maybe this is my way of being a doctor to the city. Patching it up the only way I can.
[Maybe he was speaking more about the other job he had, the one that fixed what he couldn't in court.]
[ he'd wondered if matt was born blind or if something happened, and he guesses that answers that question. he listens silently, chest tightening as the other man ducks his head, seeming.. wounded, almost. like he's disappointed he's not doing more, when he's already doing so much more than most people here do.
his fingers curl, uncurl, and finally, cautiously, he reaches out with his prosthetic. it's easier, since his brain doesn't process information from that arm the same way as it does from the rest of his body. it's sensory input, but it's not really touch, and that lets him nudge cold metal fingers lightly against matt's, smooth fingertips brushing his knuckles. ]
You and Sam and Steve are alike, I think. You would've liked Steve. He would've liked you a lot, too.
[He finds it interesting, in that calculating part of his mind, that it was the metal arm that Bucky reached out with first. But he doesn't shy away from that touch, thumb moving to touch metal that felt smooth and oddly warm. Probably the proximity to his body.
He hears that compliment, and he knows that's exactly what it is. Matt hadn't had a best friend growing up. Hadn't been close to anyone other than his father until Foggy had come along. Stick didn't count because Stick was a prick. But he recognizes the sentiment there, and he offers Bucky a soft smile.]
From what I hear about him, I would have liked him too. I- You must miss him. I'm glad you have Sam.
[Having someone mattered. It gave them a compass to swing to.]
[ he makes a noncommittal noise, because if he actually opens his mouth to say just how badly he misses steve, he's going to shatter right here in the middle of a damn restaurant, and then he really will scare matt off. steve rogers is the only reason bucky's here. if it hadn't been for him, he never would have had the will to break out of hydra's control. if it hadn't been for him, he'd probably--likely, certainly--be dead.
so instead, he swallows the painful lump in his throat and breathes in through his nose. ]
[He can tell something's happened, something that has him tensing, and when Bucky picks a topic, Matt goes along with it. He'd told him he'd be patient, and if that meant changing topics or avoiding certain ones, he could do that.]
Foggy? He's a teddy bear. Cheerful, but he's got a lot of heart. He likes to pretend he's more of a shark than he is, but all you have to do is put a little old lady in front of him and he's ready to help her across the street. He's got a good sense of humor, and he's... loyal. More loyal than some people have a right to experience.
[Himself. He was talking about himself. He'd lied to his best friend for way too long, but because of just how amazingly forgiving Foggy was, he hadn't left him high and dry.]
He'd be intimidated by you, but he'd like you anyway. And then probably list off all your attractive traits to me in detail, because he's oddly attached to my sex life.
[ he rests his elbow on the table, chin on his fist, and in spite of everything, he finds he's smiling a little at the description of this foggy guy. when he gets into the sex life part, though, he straightens, looking startled. ]
My-- [ he huffs a brief, surprised laugh. ] He'd be so certain we're sleeping together?
[ he sounds like a character. bucky kind of does want to meet him, now. he sounds like someone bucky would find a little overwhelming, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. he kind of needs to be overwhelmed sometimes. ]
[Matt leaned back a little, sipping at his beer with a smile before answering.]
He'd be hopeful. He has a very presumptive opinion that I can and probably do sleep with anyone attractive in a mile radius. I think part of it is that he somehow thinks I have some kind of 'hot person' super power, the other part is he's a bit of a Yenta and kind of just wants to see me hooked up. I keep trying to tell him that there's no way I can know how hot or not someone is, but he says it's a radar. I've given up on that argument. So whether he's certain or not, he'd certainly act like it was likely and maybe hope that sheer willing it into being will make it happen.
[There was fondness as he spoke, because Matt genuinely adored Foggy. Not just the easy acceptance from the day they'd met, but the fact he'd gone along with him in all his ridiculous ideas. Even lately. Foggy was good people.]
[ he folds his arms across the table, leaning in as matt leans back, unconscious of doing it. he's still smiling a little, he realizes, but it's.. good. ] Sounds like he's doing some vicarious living through you. [ does foggy not date or something? he's not sure he really has it in him anymore, not like he had back before the war, but he's tempted to flirt a little with the guy when they finally meet.
when, he's thinking. like it's a sure thing. .. maybe it is. ]
He seems great, [ he adds a few moments later, his foot shifting. the toe of his boot brushes matt's ankle, then withdraws. ] You date a lot, then?
[All those presses forward, Matt feels like he's finally luring in his stray. His head tipped towards the kitchen, then he lifted his beer and gestured at Bucky to do the same.]
Food's here.
[Plates came out, most of it a sharing type platter, and he let the server point out each dish to Bucky, since it was clear that 'Matt couldn't see'. When they'd left, Matt turned his attention back to Bucky and the question.]
He is great and I think he'd really like to meet you. He was a big Captain America and the Howling Commandos fan growing up. He might fight me for you, if Marci lets him.
[That last question, though, had him adjusting his glasses and feeling that pinking of his cheeks.]
Not as much as he seems to think I do. Or as much as I used to back in college. Things have gotten a little, ah... complicated lately.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
PRESPANGLED | quietly ignoring the nonsensical meme this started from--
steve rogers had defied the entire world for bucky, and if they think bucky will do any less for steve, they're out of their goddamn minds.
so bucky takes him home to delacroix.
he knows he's not what steve remembers--older, quieter, unemotive, unsmiling--but he hopes he's still some kind of comfort, anyway. the apartment he lets them into is small and only a little more furnished than his last one had been, but there are more personal touches than before, at least, with a few framed photos on the wall and drawings from sam's nephews on the fridge. ]
You can take the bedroom, [ he tells him with a small, wry smile as he pulls his jacket and gloves off, shoving them in the closet near the door. ] I sleep on the couch most nights. [ or the floor, though those nights are fewer and fewer as time goes on and he heals. ] Sorry it's not much, I've only lived here a couple of months. [ and he's still getting out of the habit of living like he's going to have to pick up and leave at a moment's notice. ]
please also ignore my dust, it's been awhile since i played him ;;;
he's never really felt the need for an anchor, stubbornly never let himself need one, which forced his friend to be the one always chasing after him, always getting him out of his own messes or cleaning them up. but things are strange enough right now that steve needs it, needs him, whether he wants to admit it or not.
his eyes dart around the apartment, what few things he has in an army duffle bag slung over one shoulder. it feels strange, and his mind keeps flashing back to their conversation after his ma had died.
steve blinks out of his thoughts to look up at him.]
I don't mind taking the couch. [it's enough that bucky's putting a roof over his head, much less giving him his own bed.] No, it's fine. It's nice.
[it's overwhelming. he feels like he's constantly at the edge of an asthma attack, always needing to take a deep breath.]
Where are we again? What year did you say it was?
no worries!!
I like being able to see the front door, [ he tells him, because he knows how steve is, and knows he'll try to take the couch again if bucky doesn't give him a good reason not to.
he hesitates at the question, then goes to the bedroom window, pulling up the blinds so steve can see out onto the street if he wants. ] Sorry. It's 2024, and this is Delacroix in Louisiana. It's-- [ he pauses briefly, then turns back to the shorter man and leans his hips against the windowsill. ] It's a long story, but the guy I work with lives here, and he and his family are.. kind of my connection to the world, I guess. Or they have been. [ he'd been pretty lost without steve.
another, slightly longer pause, and he glances down, rubbing his hands absently over the tops of his thighs. ] I know it's a lot. And I know I'm.. not.. [ a strangled, anxious moment. ] I know I'm not the same guy you know back home. There's some stuff I have to tell you about, about living here with me, and if you don't-- I mean, if you're not comfortable after that, I can introduce you to Sam and Sarah, and you could stay with one of them if you want. Sam would never turn you away.
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his focus shifts until he catches his own partial reflection in the glass.]
Technically that makes me a hundred and six years old. I didn't expect to make it to half that.
[and he bets that bucky secretly didn't either. steve gives the taller man a sardonic smile before he turns his back to the window. but the smile falls away completely as he continues.]
Buck. Bucky. [because the other is starting down a road that they don't need to go.] It's okay. I can handle it. [war changes people, and he gets the sick sinking feeling in his stomach that war is only half of what his friend has been through. there's no way he's abandoning him.] Whatever it is, I'm with you. Remember?
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he knows, too, that the other man isn't going anywhere, and he knows steve would stay no matter how unhappy and uncomfortable he was, because if he thought bucky needed him--and he does, always--that'd be the end of it. ] I just.. want you to know it's okay. All of this-- [ he gestures to take in the whole damn world. ] It's already a lot for you to have to adjust to, pal, I don't want to lay too much on you before you're ready to deal with it.
[ but the truth is, if steve's going to stay, he needs to know about bucky's.. issues. he doesn't want to accidentally hurt him because he dared to try to wake him from a nightmare.
for now, he offers him a wan smile. ] Before we get down to brass tacks.. you hungry? I could order something. [ he digs his phone out of his pocket--new, a smartphone he thinks is wasted on him, but that sam had encouraged him to get anyway--and unlocks the screen, offering it out for steve to see and hold if he wants. he'd had a much easier time of it than steve, adjusting to the modern world the first time. the winter soldier had the benefit of being used frequently over the decades, so while a lot of aspects of the current world are fairly new for him, he already had a lot of the basics of society and technology-- as they applied to his work, at least. but steve? he's coming directly from the 40s. it must feel like he's in a sci-fi novel right now. ]
This is what phones look like now. It's like.. if you took a phone, a movie theater, a radio, every library on the planet, and a bunch of other stuff, and squished it down into something you can stick in your pocket and carry around.
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You don't have to go to any trouble. I can make us a couple of sandwiches.
[he should at least do that much. he's going to insist on doing more than that, though he's still drawing the line at shining his shoes. probably. he pushes away from the window, then pauses when bucky offers his phone. he takes it, frowning thoughtfully down at the screen.]
Wow, that's...that's really something.
[and it really is. he didn't see any flying cars outside the window, but it seems like everything has progressed by leaps and bounds nonetheless.
but. and bucky probably heard that "but" in his voice, he's just not sure how to continue without sounding like a grandpa. steve blinks before looking up again.]
I guess I just don't understand why you need all those things in your pocket all the time.
[they'd grown up with actual theaters, and radios, and libraries, and they'd seemed to work just fine. but he does offer him a faint smile.]
How many girls' phone numbers you got in this thing?
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[ he'd been busy, and sarah's had them over a couple of nights to feed them. still, if steve wants to look through the kitchen and see if anything's salvageable, he won't fuss. it's one small bit of normalcy for him in the midst off this decidedly not-normal storm.
the next comment earns a quick, fond smile, helpless in his affection. ] You'd be surprised how handy it is to be able to look something up real quick, but I don't see much use in most of it, either. Guess it's just our generation. [ a beat, and the smile slips, turning a little awkward as he takes the phone back, glancing down at it briefly. ] .. Does my therapist count? [ and there's sarah, but.. ] I don't really-- All that's behind me, pretty much. Dating, fucking around.
[ he turns the phone between his palms to give his hands something to do, debating on how much he wants to actually say. ]
Even if I was interested, I've got a.. reputation. It's hard for people to look past that sometimes. [ his smile smooths out into faint amusement. ] I have a display in the Smithsonian, though. It's part of a much bigger Steve Rogers installation.
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[steve's no stranger to lean times, and the "make something out of nothing" that comes with it. he can help bucky this way, pull his own weight. the idea of that is always at the forefront of his mind. so he waits for the other man to lead him to the kitchen, and almost immediately finds a few potatoes that aren't too spotty, and a few eggs that are barely over their expiration date. yeah, he can work with this. he searches the drawers until he finds a small knife to peel with, and he listens and thinks about bucky's words as he does.]
What's the therapist for? [he keeps his eyes downcast for a moment, in case that's one of the things that bucky's not ready to talk about. but eventually he does look up, and his eyes dart to the silver arm.] Got something to do with that? And do you kiss your ma with that mouth?
[he smirks a little when his friend tosses around the curse word. he's heard worse, actually. even a few days in the army was more than enough time for that. but his smile fades as he sighs at himself.]
Buck...I'm sorry.
[because it's 2024, and they're still here but his friend's parents are surely gone. his whole family...gone.]
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It's okay, [ he reassures him, even though it doesn't feel okay that his family had died without ever knowing what happened to him. it's for the best, though, he knows; he wouldn't have wanted any of them to know about the winter soldier.
he takes a sip of his beer as he considers the question, giving himself a few moments to decide whether or not he's.. ready. but it's not like he can avoid it for long, is it? anyone steve meets here will know who bucky barnes is. ]
It was part of my pardon requirements, [ he admits abruptly, setting the beer down on the counter and glancing down at his prosthetic as he does so, flexing the fingers. ] I was-- I was captured. My whole unit was. That's actually how you really became a hero, y'know? [ he folds his arms, leaning his hip against the counter. ] The army was giving us up for dead, but you refused. You dropped in way behind enemy lines and you came for us. For me.
[ that's not the point and he needs to get to the point, but it's surprisingly hard to talk about this with a steve that doesn't already know. ]
Anyway, I didn't know it at the time, but Hydra was experimenting with a knock-off supersoldier serum based on Erskine's work. [ he gestures to himself with a thin upward tilt of his lips that can hardly be called a smile. ] So.. when I fell off a train during a mission, you thought I died. I should've died. Any normal person would have died. But.. I didn't, and the Soviets found me. It's how I lost my arm. [ he inhales through his nose, a little shaky. ] They, uh.. [ he shifts again, then lifts his hand, making a circle gesture near his temple. ] They fucked with my head, brainwashed me, wiped my memories. Made me a.. weapon, more or less, and that's how I spent the next eighty years.
[ he stares down at his beer sweating on the countertop, refusing to look at steve, feeling the familiar sick, empty pit in his chest. ]
I killed.. a lot of people. And I would have kept on like that, just an empty thing to be used, if you hadn't helped me get my mind back. [ he makes a vague gesture with a hand. ] Once people knew what the Russians and Hydra did to me, I was pardoned, but mandated therapy was one of the conditions.
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so naturally he has to grip the counter behind him with his free hand when he hears that bucky was captured after all. hearing himself called a hero for coming for him feels wrong. it wasn't a heroic thing to do, it was the right thing to do, and people tend to get those things mixed up for some reason. but steve knows that bucky would've done the same.
he makes a second attempt to drink, and again the can pauses. so when i fell off a train during a mission... bucky says it as casual as you please, like he's talking about falling off of a bunk bed during a slumber party. but it makes for an unpleasant feeling in steve's chest, a pain that makes its way into his expression no matter how hard he tries to hide it. captain america. a hero. when bucky's been through much and he wasn't able to do a damn thing about it- it hurts. it hurts to watch bucky talk about what he's been through, hurts to watch him relive a little of it now as he does. but steve doesn't let himself look away.
it's bucky who looks away first, right before he makes a confession that has steve doubting his own ears. his hand closes a ittle tighter around the beer can, but it remains steady. and finally, steve lifts it in one swift motion to down half of the contents at once. it's a bit much, and he wavers a little on his feet after he swallows, but to be fair it might not even be the alcohol's fault.]
I should've been with you. [now he finally does look down, voice grim but also firm.] From the very beginning, through the war and getting caught. The fall...all of it. It should've been me.
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still, he's not sure it's really the beer so much as.. the rest. it's a lot. he knows it's a lot. it's a lot even for bucky, and he'd lived it.
when he knows the other man's steady, he withdraws again, putting a little distance between them in case.. in case. he knows steve better than anyone else, even with bucky's head as fucked up as it is, but hearing eighty years of murder is still a shock, he knows. so when the blond speaks up to say that, bucky's eyes finally lift, startled. ] --Hey, no, it's not your fault. [ he reaches out again, prosthetic hand squeezing one skinny arm with precise, gentle pressure. ] You kinda' had a lot on your plate, pal. And maybe.. [ he trails off a little uncertainly, brows knitting. ] You know, maybe once we manage to get you home, you and your own Buck will be okay.
[ he hopes so. it would be nice to think that somewhere out there, steve and bucky get to have.. normal lives after the war. at least, as close to normal as they can have. ]
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steve snorts when he says that he had a lot on his plate. what kind of excuse is that? he doesn't buy it. no, somewhere along the line, he failed him. was he even really that much help after? because he keeps hearing about sam, and bucky's therapist...maybe they're the ones who've really helped bucky pick up the pieces.
he blinks a couple of times at the last thing the other man says, looking confused and then determined. the familiar steve rogers stubbornness makes itself known.]
Maybe so. But I'm not going anywhere until I'm sure that you're okay.
[and with that he has to return to peeling his potatoes, which kind of swim in front of his eyes now, forcing him to knit his brows in concentration.]
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but this isn't something that can just be out-stubborned. ]
Steve, [ he protests, quiet, eyes fixed between skinny shoulder-blades. ] I'm never going to be okay. [ it's just something he's had to come to terms with. the asset is always going to be a part of him, no matter how hard he tries to kill it. ] I'm getting better, and I'm gonna' keep getting better, but if we can find a way to send you home, I want you to go home.
[ he shifts on his feet, then steps forward, pulling himself up on the countertop near the stove so he can see steve's face. he reaches out, gently poking the younger man in the temple. ]
He needs you. He's always gonna' need you. [ bucky wouldn't take steve's happy ending away for anything, but god, he misses him every day. there are days where knowing he's not there anymore makes bucky want to not be here anymore, either. having sam helps more than even sam realizes, but he still.. struggles. if there's a chance he can save some version of himself and steve from the shit he and his own steve went through, then he's going to try. ]
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LAWYERBYDAY
[ he doesn't like to talk about the asset, or his years as hydra's pet assassin, and there's probably no point in trying yet when they still don't know if this is actually going to go anywhere. after all, maybe matt will realize that bucky's too much work. it's not a very charitable idea, especially when everything bucky does know about him says exactly the opposite of the other man--no one seems to be too much work for him--but he prefers to expect the worst and be pleasantly surprised if it doesn't happen.
he peels a strip of the label off, rolling it between his fingers, his glance drifting to matt's hands instead. he doesn't have lawyer's hands. his fingers are strong, callused. they look like they know work, maybe even how to fight and defend himself and others. there's a part of him that wants to reach out, find out what they feel like beneath his own hand. the rest of him knows it's too early in the night to be ready for that. ]
Maybe I want to listen to you instead.
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The comment catches him a little off guard, and it shows in the raised brows. But that's followed with a smile, and he tips his head a bit as he answers.]
I'm sure you don't want to hear about tenement cases or insurance claims. But if there's something you'd like to know... ask. I'm not really good at figuring out what parts of my life to share and what to keep. I'm curious what you're curious about.
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[ he's good at that, sitting quietly and patiently, for hours or even days if need be. he'd been a sniper during the war, after all, and that skill had carried over into his years as the winter soldier, when he'd been pushed far beyond normal human limits during his assignments.
it's certainly not that dire now, of course, but even so. he lifts his bottle, tapping the rim against his lower lip as he considers. ]
.. How'd you decide to be a lawyer?
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[He tapped his glasses, smiling, but it was a little sad.]
My dad still insisted on me going to school and making something of myself. Growing up in Hell's Kitchen, the thing it needed more than doctors was someone that knew the law. That wouldn't let people who couldn't afford to be kicked around wind up on the bottom of someone's shoe. After my dad died... I don't know. It seemed like the thing to do. The city has a lot of people like Fisk, people under him that branch out and infect it like some kind of unseen cancer. Maybe-
[He licked his lips, head dipping down a little as he felt the condensation on the bottle run over his finger.]
Maybe this is my way of being a doctor to the city. Patching it up the only way I can.
[Maybe he was speaking more about the other job he had, the one that fixed what he couldn't in court.]
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his fingers curl, uncurl, and finally, cautiously, he reaches out with his prosthetic. it's easier, since his brain doesn't process information from that arm the same way as it does from the rest of his body. it's sensory input, but it's not really touch, and that lets him nudge cold metal fingers lightly against matt's, smooth fingertips brushing his knuckles. ]
You and Sam and Steve are alike, I think. You would've liked Steve. He would've liked you a lot, too.
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He hears that compliment, and he knows that's exactly what it is. Matt hadn't had a best friend growing up. Hadn't been close to anyone other than his father until Foggy had come along. Stick didn't count because Stick was a prick. But he recognizes the sentiment there, and he offers Bucky a soft smile.]
From what I hear about him, I would have liked him too. I- You must miss him. I'm glad you have Sam.
[Having someone mattered. It gave them a compass to swing to.]
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so instead, he swallows the painful lump in his throat and breathes in through his nose. ]
Uh. You mentioned Foggy earlier. What's he like?
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Foggy? He's a teddy bear. Cheerful, but he's got a lot of heart. He likes to pretend he's more of a shark than he is, but all you have to do is put a little old lady in front of him and he's ready to help her across the street. He's got a good sense of humor, and he's... loyal. More loyal than some people have a right to experience.
[Himself. He was talking about himself. He'd lied to his best friend for way too long, but because of just how amazingly forgiving Foggy was, he hadn't left him high and dry.]
He'd be intimidated by you, but he'd like you anyway. And then probably list off all your attractive traits to me in detail, because he's oddly attached to my sex life.
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My-- [ he huffs a brief, surprised laugh. ] He'd be so certain we're sleeping together?
[ he sounds like a character. bucky kind of does want to meet him, now. he sounds like someone bucky would find a little overwhelming, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. he kind of needs to be overwhelmed sometimes. ]
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He'd be hopeful. He has a very presumptive opinion that I can and probably do sleep with anyone attractive in a mile radius. I think part of it is that he somehow thinks I have some kind of 'hot person' super power, the other part is he's a bit of a Yenta and kind of just wants to see me hooked up. I keep trying to tell him that there's no way I can know how hot or not someone is, but he says it's a radar. I've given up on that argument. So whether he's certain or not, he'd certainly act like it was likely and maybe hope that sheer willing it into being will make it happen.
[There was fondness as he spoke, because Matt genuinely adored Foggy. Not just the easy acceptance from the day they'd met, but the fact he'd gone along with him in all his ridiculous ideas. Even lately. Foggy was good people.]
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when, he's thinking. like it's a sure thing. .. maybe it is. ]
He seems great, [ he adds a few moments later, his foot shifting. the toe of his boot brushes matt's ankle, then withdraws. ] You date a lot, then?
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Food's here.
[Plates came out, most of it a sharing type platter, and he let the server point out each dish to Bucky, since it was clear that 'Matt couldn't see'. When they'd left, Matt turned his attention back to Bucky and the question.]
He is great and I think he'd really like to meet you. He was a big Captain America and the Howling Commandos fan growing up. He might fight me for you, if Marci lets him.
[That last question, though, had him adjusting his glasses and feeling that pinking of his cheeks.]
Not as much as he seems to think I do. Or as much as I used to back in college. Things have gotten a little, ah... complicated lately.
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