pennysheets | Time Is Stupid (For Steve Rogers)

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."

Even better, Bucky leans a little into it, touch-starved and greedy for reassurances that Steve is here and real and actually wants that contact. "One of these days you'll sit something out on purpose and I'll have a heart attack," he drawls.

But the dry humor drains out quickly enough. "There were supersoliders, Steve. Some egomaniac scientist managed to reverse engineer it, and a bunch of stupid, angry kids managed to steal it. And take it. They're all gone now, but you know how information is these days. The formula's gonna be on some backup server or cloud storage or flash drive somewhere and it'll get out again."

"Could be," Steve says, like that could ever actually really happen. "But I learned CPR as part of my SHIELD training when I woke up, so we're all good, there."

But yeah, even his expression sobers when Bucky goes on. Supersoldiers. It's always supersoldiers, the serum, people wanting to be better than humanity, like being human isn't an amazing thing in and of itself. Like being humane isn't the goal.

It isn't, for everybody, and he knows it well by now.

"Right," he breathes, and there's a part of him that misses Natasha so acutely in that moment that it feels like his heart is being squeezed in a vice, tighter and tighter, before he swallows, forces himself to go on. "So... are we taking a wait and see approach, or do you think we should go on the offensive?"

Steve is much more of an offensive kind of guy, but fighting this kind of battle, going after information that could be lurking anywhere, is absolutely not his forte. Even if they wait, though, he imagines there's still plenty to do in the meantime. "I understand if that isn't the most pressing problem," he adds, for good measure.

"I'd love to go on the offensive." No, he wouldn't. He's kind of sick of fighting. But he absolutely does not want more supersoldiers out there, either, and that's the lesser of two evils here. "There's no offensive to go on, yet. Sam's got his pal Torres doing intel research for us. Once there's something to hit, we'll go hit it. Until then, Sam's back home with his sister and nephews, and I'm on the fucking amends circuit."

Which is also exhausting, just in a very different way.

Steve nods - well. To the first part.

"Amends circuit?" he's got to ask, because he can guess, he can even do so with some degree of certainty. He also knows how he feels about the need to be on said circuit in the first place, whatever it involves, but he keeps his mouth shut until he hears more because it's not like it'll be anything Bucky hasn't heard before.

It might be worth saying it again, but - he'll have to see.

Somewhere between embarrassed and just exhausted, Bucky shrugs. "It's just a thing my therapist has me doing. It's supposed to help." A pause, right, Steve wouldn't know-- "Court-mandated therapy. It's a condition of my pardon. Doc's okay, I guess." Doc drives him crazy, but he knows she's trying her best. "Used to be a soldier, so I guess they thought she'd be better for me than somebody who's never killed anybody."

He considers fishing out his little book to toy with the pages, a nervous habit he's picked up somewhere, but since it's... Steve's little book, he thinks maybe that's not such a great idea, actually. "I find people I wronged as the Winter Soldier and apologize," he explains. "Or find people I enabled and do something about it."

Steve's face does... something, like he's trying not to frown and it's not really working overly well. Sure, it makes sense, that Bucky should see someone, talk to someone, who at least knows what it's like to be a soldier. So, that part seems okay, sure.

But the rest of it? Steve doesn't think Bucky owes anybody an apology, which is maybe why the whole frowning-trying-not-to-frown thing he's got going on. He gets trying to stop people that HYDRA might have enabled, through the use of the Winter Soldier.

He also knows that Bucky takes it much more personally, and nothing Steve can ever say will change his mind.

"Is that... helping, then?"

"Hell, I don't know," Bucky says, dropping his head back over the back of the couch. "Sam said I wasn't amending, I was avenging. That I need to be of service to people." And, hell, he could see it. It was one thing to stop the bad ones, but another to help the good ones, right? He's just feeling particularly wrung out after his first supposed attempt at actually amending.

That's why he even came up here. He'd needed a little peace and quiet to talk to himself, think of what Steve would do, and make some decisions. Even if Sam said he needed to stop considering what Steve thought, or might have thought. That's bad advice when Steve is right here, now, though.

"Sam's a smart guy," Steve admits softly, trusting that input, because Sam's been here, and Steve hasn't. And Sam, he knows, better than some court-mandated therapist who's probably fine, but he can't be sure. Maybe he's learned to be a little wary, after SHIELD turned out to be half-rotted from the inside out, and not even Nick Fury had caught on.

But, "Is... being of service to people what you want to do?" He knows there's duty, and responsibility, and if Bucky feels responsible, then maybe that's what he needs to do. Hell, if Bucky feels lost -

"When I, uh." Steve glances away, ends up jiggling one leg a little, then stops. "When I woke up. And I didn't have anything. Or know anybody. I wanted to still be of service."

Hell, he'd jumped at the opportunity, whether it had meant fighting aliens or making (horrible, cringe-worthy) PSAs. It had been something to do. It had been some good he could still do.

Hell. He'd done the same thing after the snap, hadn't he.

Maybe he's just trying to say that he gets it. Sometimes that's what you need, when you have nothing left.

But Bucky doesn't have nothing left, anymore.

Edited 2021-07-06 02:14 (UTC)

"What else am I gonna do." The only thing he wants to do is go back to his hut in Wakanda and take care of his goats, but that's off-limits now, given the Zemo thing. Even if it wasn't, his hut got taken over and remodeled by a Wakandan family during the snap, so there's nothing really to go back to.

So he'll keep doing this. At least now there's Steve, so maybe he won't feel quite so alone.

And there's a new thing to figure out now, anyway. "We've gotta call Sam, Steve. Let him know you're back, and find out what happened to the old guy pretending to be you." And Bucky will try not to rub it in Sam's face that caring about what Steve thinks might still matter some.

Anything, Steve wants to say, but he's got no leg to stand on, and he knows it. He had been at a loss, too. So he had kept doing what he'd known. What he'd been good at. What he'd been made to do.

It's always easier to argue when it's someone else, and Bucky has always been an exception to nearly every hard-and-fast rule in Steve's life, but still. He doesn't argue for now.

"Yeah, that... seems like something we should deal with," he says, sighing, running a hand down his face. "I mean, maybe I messed something up, I'm not exactly a physicist or whatever." Maybe it really was him, for all he knows. But maybe it wasn't. And if it wasn't, then they need to figure out who it was, and why. "I... don't exactly have a phone," Steve admits, although he's sure Bucky does. "But if you need me to make the call, I can."

"I'll call. But he's going to want to see you. Maybe yell at you," Bucky warns. "Maybe not, though. He's nicer than I am." Sometimes, anyway. He and Steve always got along really well, while Bucky and Sam always butted heads, so maybe Sam would just take one look at him and fold him into a hug. A proper one, not the stupid clingy shit that's all Bucky's capable of in the hug department these days.

He shifts aside and pushes to his feet so he can fish the phone out of his jacket pocket and not be talking right in Steve's ear when he dials. "Hey, Sam? Hey, we've gotta talk. Something weird's come up. --No, I mean weirder than that. Steve's here." A pause. "No, young Steve." Another pause, this one longer, and Bucky starts to pace around, further away from Steve. "Yeah, Sam, I know how it sounds. I already checked for face masks and I'm pretty damn sure I'm not hallucinating. It's him. --Yeah, I know. I know. You wanna see him or what? --That's what I thought. No, I'm at Stark's old cabin. Upstate New York. Yeah, I know. We can meet you there, yeah. You'll probably get there faster than us. You've got the key still, right? Right, okay. See you then."

And that's that. He hangs up and stares at his phone for a long minute.

Edited (skimming over the phone call...) 2021-09-15 03:10 (UTC)

Steve would... probably be okay if Sam wants to yell. He'd probably be justified. Of course, a hug would be pretty justified, too.

He nods, watching as Bucky paces away a few steps to call, doing his best not to overhear more than necessary. It's maybe not surprising, though, that Bucky - with virtually the same super soldier hearing as Steve - doesn't need his phone speaker turned up so damn loud, so he really can't hear much other than the murmur of another voice on the other end of the line.

He feels, maybe for the first time, really, since his return, a bit awkward and out of place, clasping his hands in his lap and trying not to wring them. He's never been much of a fidgeter, but it's been known to happen. Fortunately, it's not that long of a conversation, even as his lips twitch up a little at already checked for face masks and you wanna see him or what.

He glances up at Bucky when the call ends, letting the silence linger for as long as he can manage before he finally asks, "So. We're clearing out of here?"

"Yeah, we're going back to my apartment." He finally puts the phone away in a pocket with a sigh, and walks back to the couch to collect the duffel bag to return to its closet. "I think Sam is hoping I'll be done hallucinating by the time I get there. He's flying up, though, so either he's really worried I've lost it. Or he's really worried I haven't."

Well, if they're heading out, Steve might as well stand up while Bucky takes care of cleaning up. "Well, lucky for him, you're not hallucinating - so I'm sure I'll give him a better target for his worry as soon as he gets here, and you'll be in the clear."

Still, he doesn't really like the fact that he'd worried anyone at all. This wasn't supposed to happen in the first place. But hey, that's just life, he supposes. Most of the shit they've faced is like that.

"So - can I bum a ride?" Steve asks, trying for a little levity, as one corner of his lips turn up in a wry smile. "Or are you gonna make me walk and think about what I've done?"

Edited 2021-09-19 18:20 (UTC)

Bucky pauses, looks over his shoulder at Steve from the closet, and starts to grin. "Only if you don't mind that I'm driving. And it's a motorcycle." Steve can cling to him on the back seat down the winding roads down the mountain. That sounds like fun, right?

Shutting the closet door, he pauses and looks Steve over. "You okay?" he asks after a moment. That mission to return the stones had to be crazy, and he got back to find he's six months late and his best friend (?) is a basket case again, and that somebody impersonated him. Guy's got to be exhausted.

Steve rolls his eyes. "I don't mind that you're driving." It might be a little weird? But not bad.

Which already has him thinking about some things, even as Bucky shuts the door and asks if he's okay. Because - "What? Yeah, of course." He sort of spreads his hands, as if trying to pass inspection. "I'm good."

Physically, sure. But -

But he's been on his own for a long time. Because this mission? This mission was absolutely not one he could bring anyone else in on. It's not that he isn't used to being alone. It's not that he can't handle it.

But suddenly, he feels every second of it. And maybe every second of that exhaustion, too, that Bucky's imagining.

"Yeah," he repeats, offering Bucky a smile that's small, but real. "Better, now." For a lot of reasons.

The first "yeah" gets a skeptical look, but the second feels a little more real. With its qualifier. Bucky's expression goes a little softer. "You're home now," he promises quietly, maybe a little bit to both of them. Not this cabin, sure, but this time. This world. The crappy, empty apartment. Whatever Bucky has, he'll share. He'll give, because Steve didn't actually want to leave them all.

Then, more practically, he adds, "We'll work out anything else that comes up, between you, me, and Sam. Okay?"

"Okay," Steve agrees; it's quiet, but it's confident. He may still feel a little adrift, with so many people gone. But there are others still right here - and he's not going to let them go so easily.

Especially not this particular one.

He descends the steps and pauses to pick up the hammer. He probably could've - should've, technically - returned it. But nothing appears to have imploded from the fact that he hadn't. And... he still could. Maybe later. He doesn't want to leave again for a while. A long while. "Let's see if your motorcycle's worthy." He'll follow Bucky's lead from here, climbing on behind him and yeah, okay - maybe it'll be nice just to hold on to Bucky for a while. Remind him - them both, maybe - that he's here.

That earns him a bark of a laugh as Bucky heads to the bike and starts her up, letting Steve settle in behind him. Mjolnir can go in a saddlebag, because otherwise that's gonna be an awkward ride. Bucky doesn't have a helmet, he can't stand having something that heavy and enclosing on his head, so Steve gets to feel the wind in his hair too.

It's a long drive, too, getting back into New York proper, and not one where talking is easy. Bucky doesn't care. He can feel Steve, pressed right up against his back. It's heady. He might drive a little slower, take a little longer, just to savor it for an extra few minutes. Sam can wait. He's got a key.

Brooklyn looks a lot different these days, even if there are a few familiar bits here and there. Bucky drives them through it at the actual speed limit, parking in the garage spot for his tiny apartment. "I'm on the fourth floor," he says, gesturing at the stairwell.

Time Is Stupid (For Steve Rogers)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)