pennysheets | Time Is Stupid (For Steve Rogers)

"Buck?"

Steve's on the other side of the house, walking the perimeter with a sinking feeling in his stomach, the more details he notes that tell him the house isn't occupied, and hasn't been for a while. It's not derelict, so that's good, but his comms are dead and
it's clear by now that something about his return timing is off.

What he hadn't known was just how much. But it can't have been that much, if Bucky's out here looking for him. So, naturally, Steve comes jogging around the far end of the house, looking for the source of the voice.

He stops.

Steve isn't supposed to talk back. Steve is-- he's gone.

What the fuck. Please don't let him have somehow gone back to hallucinating. He really, really doesn't want to go back to those days. He thought he'd been doing so well.

Bucky doesn't look the same as Steve will remember from when he first left. The coat is blue and long, with the collar popped up. The beard is gone. So is most of the hair. It's shorter than even the 40s, a modern cut, close to his head so he can manage the curl without going to any actual effort.

And he's starting at Steve, rounding the cottage, like he's seeing a ghost.

Steve does end up stopping short as he finally comes within sight of Bucky. Because - yeah, it's Bucky. Without a doubt. But he doesn't look the same. Frankly, it's a little like Steve's seeing a ghost, only thought a funhouse mirror. The bare face, the short hair - no, it's not exactly the same. But it's close. Just one step to the left of right.

Although there is the look on Bucky's face to consider.

He gets his feet moving again soon enough, Mjolnir in one hand and tread soft on the overgrown grass as he comes closer. "Hey," he says, sounding a little unsure, a little worried. "I think I'm late."

Again.

Bucky doesn't answer immediately. He swallows once, then turns around sharply away. He prowls back around the house to drop his ass down on the porch steps and put his head into his hands, palms hard against his eyes. There's one part of his brain, the threat analysis part, that's running a mile a minute in an attempt to reconcile this. The rest is just plain overwhelmed.

If this is Steve, then who was the old man who gave Sam the shield? If that was Steve, then who the fuck is this?

If Steve is even here. There's another part of him that's convinced his brain broke again, back to the really bad days, right after DC. Maybe because of the feeling he'd had talking to Yori. The grief of losing that... that almost-friendship. Maybe it's the fear of the future making him regress. Who the fuck knows.

If Steve is still there when he looks up a minute later, then he'll talk to him.

Bucky walks away and Steve feels like he's going to throw up. There's Bucky being pissed, and there's... this.

"Buck -" he starts to say, and he follows - of course he follows - coming around the side of the house to see Bucky with his face in his hands, and...

And shit. "What the hell happened?" he asks, the words spilling out of his mouth at the same time they're popping up in his brain. "What did I miss? How late am I?"

Jesus, Buck. Steve's footsteps come up to the porch but stop just a few feet away. The hammer sinks down into the grass as Steve sets it down and just... stands there. Waiting for Bucky to look up again, and not entirely sure what's coming down the pike as soon as he does.

Well, he's still there, and from what he remembers from those bad, early days, hallucinations didn't look alarmed like that. Angry, smug, on occasional sad, but never like they didn't know what was going on. Bucky looks up without moving his head, fingers bracing his forehead but eyes focusing back on Steve. "Only a couple seconds. And. And six months. You came back the long way. You stayed in the goddamn past, Steve. Got some of that 'life' you always wanted. How the fuck are you here again?"

His volume has gone steadily up from quiet and tense, to a reasonable upset tone, to very nearly yelling. He's not sure if he's angry, terrified, or maybe grieving all over again.

"Wait, I - what?"

Yeah, okay, Steve doesn't love being yelled at, but it's not exactly new. He and Bucky have fought before. Only usually Steve knows what the hell they're fighting about. (Is it really a fight if it's only one-sided? To be determined, maybe.)

"There is no again, I'm - " He blows out a breath, runs a hand through his hair. Fortunately(?) it's long enough these days that doing that doesn't make it stand on end. (Because, no, Bucky's hair would do that if he... This is so messed up.)

"I did what I went to do," he starts out, desperately wanting to sink down on the porch step next to Bucky and absolutely knowing that he shouldn't just now. "I put the stones back. But things got complicated. There was Loki to worry about. I tried to find him. Put that right."

He hadn't been successful. And somehow, that extra side trip (well, extra side trips, there had been several) had done something to the return plan, because now he's standing here - if he's following correctly - six months later, but also - "How could I have stayed in the past if I'm here now?"

Yeah, understanding time travel's seriously a bitch.

Edited 2021-05-01 04:07 (UTC)

"I don't know. I don't. You gave the shield to Sam. I don't know what you did after that." A part of him, a big part of him, hadn't been surprised. The rest of him had been devastated. And not a single part of him had been able to properly face a Steve who hadn't wanted him, so he'd just let him go.

And now that he's maybe started to make some peace with that, Steve is suddenly back, young again, with a story that he'd never-- he'd never tried to leave? He runs his hands down his face, swallowing back the stupid urge to cry. "We all figured you'd gone back to Carter. Started some new timeline with her, only came back here in time to hand off the shield." Though nobody was really sure where the thing came from, exactly, if it was the same shield or another shield or what.

They're gonna have to talk to Sam. Maybe Sam found out what happened to the older Steve, and they can-- find out what the hell happened here.

"Huh."

Well, that's a thought. Not... a bad one, actually. "He'd be good with it," Steve muses softly, but that's maybe a problem for - not right now. A little later down the line. Right now, Bucky's his main concern, and, "Can I sit down?" he asks, because he still isn't sure he should, but he knows he wants to. Having whatever this conversation is going to be while towering over Bucky is not the way he wants to do it.

Plus, he needs just a second to process the rest of that. Gone back to Carter. Started some new timeline with her. It's... well, shit. It's tempting. He'd thought about it, actually. A lot.

A lot.

"He is good with it. He's a great Captain America." Even if it took the asshole months to actually pick it up.

In response to the question, Bucky scoots over rather than answering out loud. Sit down, buddy. So he can grab your shoulder once you're in reach and make sure, make triply sure, you're real-- without having to get up and face shaky knees.

Which he does, the moment Steve's ass is on the porch, flesh hand with its greater sense of touch. His voice is a lot less steady than he'd like when he asks, "You're really here. It's really you?" He's not been briefed on the possibility of skrulls, but he does remember facemasks, and he's tempted to prod at Steve's face, too. Maybe in a minute.

"Guess that settles that, then," Steve admits, although he doesn't sound either particularly surprised or particularly remorseful.

Nor does he waste any time in dropping down next to Bucky as soon as it's clear that's an okay thing to do. In fact, there's a little breath that escapes him, almost involuntarily, when Bucky's hand grips his shoulder and the muscles there relax just a little. He's still not sure what happened, how badly he's messed up, but he is sure that they'll figure it out. Together.

"Far as I know, and I've been me my whole life," he offers over with a wry, lopsided grin that's got just this little bit of regret to it, now. "I'm sorry," he adds, a moment later. "For - this," he says, because he isn't sure what all's happened, but clearly something. Some older version of himself, showing up and clearly stirring up shit.

You know, that... kinda sounds like something he'd do, so there is that.

"But yeah. I'm really here, and I'm kinda planning on staying. If that's a thing people might be okay with."

"People" being largely Bucky, but... yeah, some other people, too.

That sure does sound like the kind of dumb joke Steve would make. The Steve from before the Blip (he still can't believe that's the name that stuck, the "Blip"). The Steve he actually felt like maybe he knew a little bit.

Bucky stares hard at him. Sam still bugs him about the staring. He does kind of feel like it's warranted this time, though. He looks right, too. The stupid time-travel suit is right. His hair is a little off, but only in the way a couple months of growth would give it.

Then he pokes Steve in the face, metal finger and everything, trying to fritz out whatever face mask might be on there.

Nothing. Just a face.

Which means before Steve can probably do more than protest the poke a little, he's tugging him into a tight hug, burying his face in Steve's shoulder with a powerful shudder.

It feels warranted, really. Bucky staring at him, trying to work out just how much trouble Steve is in before he says something. It's not a feeling Steve loves, but it kinda seems like maybe he owes Bucky this much. And then some. And then a lot more.

He can worry about paying down that debt later, though; first, he's got to pass whatever test this is.

Including being poked in the face, apparently. Steve might even have a question or a quip forming on his lips about that one, yeah, but it doesn't have time to come out before he's pulled into a hug that -

That... Jesus. His arms come up around Bucky pretty much on automatic, Steve's body turning more towards his, trying to tug Bucky a little closer, encourage him to lean in. whatever he needs. The last time they really talked was... well, it was a long time ago now for both of them, it seems. Too long ago, and that's how it always goes with Bucky, isn't it? Everything since he'd left for the war has been stolen moments that are too few and far between. He wonders, vaguely, if maybe that can change now. He has to admit, as his arms tighten around Bucky just a little, that he'd like that. A hell of a lot.

"Yeah," he breathes, not really sure Bucky needs the reassurance anymore, but it's what comes out. "It's me. I'm here. Sorry, Buck. Sorry."

He leans. He leans hard, and holds hard, and he's learned how to cry silently by now, he learned that a long time ago, so he manages not to shake or sob and just lets his face get wet for a minute, eyes squeezed tightly shut. He does let out one long, slow, shaky breath after that minute, and says (only a little thickly) into Steve's shoulder, "I told you I'd miss you, you asshole."

Crying on each other isn't a thing they do often. It has happened before. This situation probably deserves a little crying, he figures, so he's not trying to hide it more than what's instinctive after HYDRA.

"That's what you got?" Steve laughs, "I told you so?"

But it's kind of a wet sound, despite his attempts at stoicism. The thing is... yeah, he was always planning on coming back. But he knows what it's like to be on the other side of things, and it's clear that's where he'd left Bucky.

And he is sorry for it. It's not a thing he can take back, just another thing to throw on the big pile of things he's done to Bucky that he can't take back.

One hand loosens just enough to move a little, rub slow circles between Bucky's shoulder blades, one flesh and bone, one edged with metal, even if the other stays tight around him. It will until Bucky pulls back, and not a heartbeat sooner. "I missed you, too," he says, and whether he means while he was gone, or all the long time before that, stretching out until it feels like the decades it really is... well, if it's unclear, maybe he just means both. "Been a long time."

If this is real, if this is really Steve, then it isn't his fault. Somebody came back and impersonated him, and that's the person Bucky is going to be mad at. He sniffs once, then finally pulls back after a minute of soaking up the feeling of Steve.

"You missed a lot, pal," he says, still not quite steadily. He has to wipe his face with the back of his hand. "I'm gonna have to catch you up. And we're gonna have to talk about Sam." He really doesn't want to take the shield away from the guy. Sam's good at what he does, and he's pretty convinced that Sam is the Captain America the world needs right now. But if Steve Rogers is back, the world is going to think it wants Steve back.

Yeah, Bucky's gonna have to catch him up. But Steve can't think of anyone better to do that - SHIELD had certainly fucked it up, and he'd done okay on his own, but Bucky... out of everyone in the entire world, sometimes it feels like Bucky's the only one speaking the same language. Maybe it's because of how they both got here, where they both started. Maybe it's just perfectly logical, but it doesn't change the fact that it's true.

"What, you think I'm gonna take that away from him?" Maybe he didn't make that decision, but even though he's known about it for all of a minute, it still seems like a good one. "Think again," he says, letting out a breath. Maybe he's just been forcibly retired.

Maybe he should feel worse about that than he actually does. Maybe he will, but... not right now. "Catch me up first," he decides. "But maybe... I would really like to put on some normal clothes before that, if I'm being honest," he admits, maybe breaking the moment a little, but he doesn't think it's going anywhere, really. "Am I... I feel like I might be homeless." Six months isn't that long, but conversely, it might be long enough. Is anyone even still at the compound? Things had been changing so fast.

There's a complicated knot of feelings at the instant assurance-- relief, guilt, a little disbelief, a kind of desperate hope for something he doesn't want to put a name to right now-- but his shoulders do unwind a little. "You, uh. Might be. Everybody kinda went their own way after your last mission went all sideways. Sam went back to his family in Louisiana, and I." He swallows once. "I've got an apartment in Brooklyn. Either one of us'll put you up, no problem."

Though that will mean showing Steve his terrible little apartment, won't it. The completely unused bed. Maybe Steve can use it.

Bucky picks himself up. "There should be some clothes still inside. Though they might all be Tony's. C'mon." He's got a key to the place, most of them do in case they need somewhere to hide out for a few days, so he heads to the door and lets them both in. He is, in fact, pretty sure he's got a couple changes of clothes here for that very purpose.

"Please don't make me wear an Iron Maiden t-shirt," is the response to that, although the truth is, he'll wear what's available. Even if it is Tony's. Even if he feels... a little strange about that, after everything.

Still, he moves to follow Bucky, letting him take the lead, still working through what he'd said earlier. "If you've got a place in Brooklyn, what are you doing all the way out here?"

Because clearly it's not occupied. And no one was expecting him.

Bucky scuffs his foot on the runner in the front room, awkward, before turning to the hall closet. Might as well check and see if his own shit was here first, or if somebody else has been by to use it. So his face is buried in the closet when he admits, "To talk to you. Kinda. It's stupid. But it'd help me work shit out, sometimes, to just. Come up here and pretend a little."

"Oh."

What the hell else can Steve say to that? He maybe feels like - well, like he's the one who's just walked on his own grave. If that's even a thing.

Of course, add in a healthy dose of guilt, but at least that's familiar and almost, weirdly, comforting. "Yeah," he finally gets out, shuffling from foot to foot in the hall, wanting to reach out, put a hand on Bucky's shoulder, and suddenly, overwhelmingly, feeling like he almost has no right.

It's not a feeling he likes. At all.

"Sorry," he murmurs, glancing away, even though Bucky's still got his head in the closet. "I really didn't mean - well. You know." He sighs. "Any luck, or am I stuck wearing my pajamas?" Because at least that will maybe lighten the mood.

Pulling back out of the closet with his duffel, Bucky says darkly, "Believe me, I'm not mad at you." He might be mad, in general, but it's pretty clear none of this was actually Steve's fault.

This Steve's fault.

He hauls the bag over to the couch and starts rifling through it, tossing a pair of jeans and a henley in Steve's direction. "I'm gonna trust you got your own underwear under that thing."

"Guess I'm not used to that," Steve murmurs wryly, but it doesn't change the fact that he's still going to feel responsible. At least a little.

He catches the clothes that come sailing at him, and then the grin turns from wry to just bemused. "Yeah. I'm good."

He hesitates for only the briefest of moments, but the house was clearly empty and it's not like Bucky hasn't seen him get changed a hundred million times, so he sets down the clothes on the nearest surface and starts working his way out of the quantum suit. "Got any shoes in there? Or is that just a pipe dream?"

He feels like they should... talk. Or something. About more than borrowing shoes. And yet he doesn't quite know where to start without wanting to apologize over again, so he puts it off a little longer.

"We do, but they're either mine or Tony's, so they're gonna be a little small on you." He retrieves one set of each-- his own are boots, because of course they are; Tony's are sneakers-- and sets them by the couch before dropping heavily onto it. "I don't know what happened to the old Steve. I didn't even talk to him. So we're gonna have to ask Sam about that so we can figure out what happened, who decided to come put on that little show."

He drags a hand down his face. "In the meantime, shit kind of went to hell. There's people in displacement camps all over the world, because of the problems during the Blip, and because governments are shit. There's been some unrest around that. Sam and I handled some of it."

Steve finishes pulling on the clothes and considers his options. He'd prefer boots, but if they're going to be small, the sneakers probably have a little more give. He settles onto the couch next to Bucky to pull them on, hip to hip, feeling a little guilty for taking no small amount of reassurance from that fact, and just hoping that maybe Bucky can get some of the same.

He lets out a breath as Bucky fills him in, however briefly, and finally sits up and back after the laces are tied. Some of it, Bucky said, which doesn't mean all of it, but Steve's not surprised. Of course it was going to be bumpy. And he absolutely doesn't regret what happened - winning, for all that they'd lost to do it - but he does regret not being here to be a part of the transition back. For leaving that on Bucky and Sam's shoulders, apparently.

At least it sounds like they'd had at least one of the tools they'd needed to do it.

"But there's still gonna be work to be done," he murmurs, glancing at Bucky. "So, count me in."

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