lefthandfree | [meme] open post / picture prompt catch-all

[He had held back before, but this time he genuinely sighs and presses his hand to Steve’s leg. It’s that same old concern that Steve always has, so Bucky needs to knock up his reply a notch with the old familiar,]

You know I’ll enjoy anything you like. I just wanna see you happy ’s all.

[It’s something of a low blow—was back then too—but it has to be said at some point because as much as things aren’t the same, they’re still the same, and Bucky wants Steve to remember that he loves everything as long as Steve’s with him. If this is the only way to hammer it into that noodle of his, then Bucky's gonna take it.]

[ It's a low blow. Steve doesn't even know what that means anymore, he had a place in the War, but it was only bearable because they were there, together. Bucky on his left always means the world is less cruel, and worth seeing for what good it possesses. His hand drops, brushing over Bucky's wrist. Yeah, he's real. ]

[ He inhales slowly. It's been almost five years since his last asthma attack. Roughly, ]

Back at ya, buddy.

[Oh, this shit... You little...]

Don’t make me give you a noogie, Rogers. ’Cause I fuckin’ will, pal. The whole nine yards, so it’ll smart til next week.

[He says it grinning because even even with all this baggage, it’s one of the purest things he feels about Steve, how much he loves the guy but also can’t stand his bullshit sometimes.]

I can’t be happy unless you are, and I’m sayin’ we start with you first. Ain’t havin’ it any other way, kid.

Will it?

[ Never could resist a dare like that, and he would never say no to playfulness from the only person who ever extended it to him in the old days. Steve ducks his head, the lines of him soften. Honesty is never the problem, it's straightforwardness. What right's he got to put his shit on Bucky? None at all. ]

[Oh. Now that’s done it. There’s a second’s pause as he gives Steve a Look that warns him he’s fuckin’ asked for it before he sits up smoothly and grapples Steve to the ground.

...

And then that’s as far as he gets because he was so taken by the instinct to show Steve up, he completely forgot that he only has one arm, and it Fuckin’ Sucks because now he’s got Steve pinned, and he can’t noogie him properly, and the bad feelings swallow up everything that was perfect just seconds before.

He breaths out shakily.]

Shit. [He says it too himself and draws back from Steve anxiously, plastering on a smile and laughing weakly.]

Guess I didn’t think that through so good.

[ He's smiling helplessly just as Buck moves, knowing what's coming next and makes no effort to resist. They realise the missing arm too late, but Steve chases after him to close the distance. ]

Hey.

[ He tucks himself against Bucky's side. He used to curl up like this often, and nudges Bucky's chin gently. He can use his good hand. Steve will stay perfectly still. ]

[Fuck, he doesn’t deserve Steve. How can he when he fucks up so much? Why is Steve such a perfect goddamn human?

He aches as he chuckles weakly, his throat clamming up a bit and making it rasp. He adjusts his arm to get it right this time, but the fever’s gone, and the rub of his knuckles is more affectionate than punishing.]

You’re such a shit, Stevie.

[There’s no heat in it. It’s all fond and feeling.]

God knows why I put up with you.

[His fingers splay, and Bucky starts running his fingers through that damn hair he hasn’t felt in his hands in ages. He wants to cry because it’s as soft and real as it always was, but he can’t, and he doesn’t know which is worse.]

My good looks.

[ He shoves at Bucky gently, and just hums contentedly at Bucky ruffling his hair, settling on the grass next to him. This sketch is never getting finished and they should probably troop back for breakfast in the mess, but he can't be bothered. ]

[He gives a short laugh at that and shakes his head.]

Yeah. You’re prettier than some of the dames I took out dancin’, that's for sure.

[And now he doesn’t want to move because this is the closest he’s been to hugging Steve. He wants to finish it, pull Steve into his arms and press him to his chest like he can melt into the annoying shit he calls his best guy, but he doesn’t have another arm to do it with.

He leans in closer, pressing his temple to Steve’s as his hand drops from Steve’s hair.]

I miss us.

[He says it flatly, like he doesn’t believe it exists anymore, but he knows it’s there because they’re here, and Steve cleaned up his fop like it was nothing.]

I miss us so goddamn much, Steve—Christ.

[He knows he shouldn’t be saying this now, before they have to go in and face everyone else, but he can’t help it anymore. He’s tired. He just wants to breathe.]

[ He doesn't hesitate. Ain't much of it to be doin', not where Bucky's concerned. Steve draws him into a tight hug, mumbles something soft in his ear, akin to all the calm little nothings Bucky used to say when Steve was delirious. All the gentleness he showed — 'course, Steve hated it then. The best guy a fella could never know, stuck at the bedside of a kid who wasn't going to make it to eighteen. ]

It's okay.

[ He runs his fingers through Bucky's hair, gently. ]

I know. It's okay.

[The air feels like it’s being ripped from his lungs. He presses harder into Steve, just the way Steve used to when he couldn’t make sense of things but only knew that Bucky was there and that he wanted Bucky. He draws Steve as close as he can with his single arm and tries to keep his breath steady while his nerves dance anxiously at how much he feels but doesn’t know how to express anymore. His mind has trouble keeping up, so his eyes squeeze shut to focus on just breathing.

Gradually, Steve’s gentle coaxing eases him down. Then, there’s only guilt left.]

Shit— sorry— I shouldn’t— I can’t do this to you—fuck—it’s damn unfair, and I don’t wanna ruin things.

[It was going so good and then you had to fuck it up, Barnes. Fucking typical.]

You ain't.

[ His breathing slows, knowing Bucky's will synchronise. It's an old trick of Buck's borrowed for now. Steve only has his example to go from when it comes to worryin' about other folk. He isn't the kind to sit at someone's bedside. He would for Bucky, but even that feels something he doesn't know how to do. ]

[ A voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Natasha says he might want to work on that. ]

We just need a little time, that's all, pal.

[He’s having trouble catching his breath until he hears Steve taking noticeable, slow breaths of his own. As soon as he recognizes the intent, he starts matching his breaths to Steve’s. His heart clenches briefly from the sudden change, but gradually Bucky feels control return and, along with it, the air Steve gives him. He takes a few seconds before he tries speaking again.]

Y- Yeah. [Croaked. He clears his throat and tries again.] Yeah. Time.

[It was never on their side though. They’d lost how many years? Geeze...]

I ain’t leavin’ you on a damn beach again, that’s for sure.

[He chuckles quietly, trying to lighten the mood.]

[ He cards his hand through Bucky's hair one last time then pries himself away to give him some space, but not too far. That would feel like letting him go only to fall. Steve frowns. ]

You don't gotta do that. [ he grimaces ] Try to be normal.

[ They are both so far from it it's laughable. And it doesn't work the same way it once did in the War, they won't get anywhere by avoiding the fact that they're fucked up. ]

Please?

Shit— [He shakes his head. It feels wrong to fake it now, and Bucky feels horrible for trying. He doesn’t want Steve to think he wants to hide or that he doesn’t want to be honest with him. He takes a deep breath and sighs through his nose.

Normal. What does that even mean?]

Sorry. [He’s quiet now, rather ashamed.] Don’t mean to be like that with you. Don’t wanna. It just happens, and...

Fuck, I just don’t know how to talk right with you anymore, and I— [His voice grows strained and harsh so he stops and shakes his head again to try and stifle the anger he directs at no one.]

I’m just no good like this. Not for you. Not for anyone.

[Despite this, he leans back in toward Steve because he can't stop himself.]

[ Wouldn't blame him if he wanted to keep to himself. Steve knows him: at least, he knows the most important pieces aren't gone, and Bucky never did anything without good reason. He wouldn't have betrayed anyone without the horrific treatment he endured and even then, Bucky pulled him from the river. ]

Bucky.

[ Steve pulls him in close, fingers curling in his shirt. Fiercely, ]

You're the best thing that ever happened to me. Ain't nothing coulda changed that.

[He shakes his head, even as he presses closer, with his mouth ajar, ready to say something that never quite reaches his mouth. His tongue darts out to dampen his lips—why’s his damn mouth so dry?—and he chews on his lower lip as he tries to figure out what to say.

Eventually, he gets there, and when he does, he reaches up to grasp on to Steve’s shoulder.]

But that was then, Steve. I dunno if I’m even him anymore.

[And it hurts to say because it’s more than likely true, and if it’s true, then he definitely isn’t what Steve needs.]

[ If it's true, then, ]

I'm not him either.

[ It's the little things, Bucky trying to track a higher sightline, the adjustment in his gait when he had to walk on Steve's left when this body was new to them both. The man he is now hasn't had the time his younger self did to consolidate himself in Bucky's memories. It must be confusing, and if it is, it must lacerate. Steve doesn't blame him. Never could. ]

That's okay, right?

Of course it’s okay, pal. [He blurts it out without even thinking because it’s the fucking truth.] Why wouldn’t it be? You finally get to do everything you wanna.

[Don’t have anything to prove anymore. Don’t even need Bucky to make sure you’re all right, ’cause you’re plenty all right now, and Bucky’s the one trying not to hyperventilate instead.

Talk about a cruel twist of fate.]

Was always the inside that mattered, Steve. I didn’t ever stay cause I felt bad for you; I stayed ’cause you’re the best damn thing in the world, and no one else could see that.

[Then. Nowadays, everyone seems to have an idea, even if it’s not the full picture.]

[ Not everything. Sometimes he wanders around the halls like the real ghost, because there's too much restlessness, and Steve isn't too keen on sleeping if it means there's too much violence alive in him. Nothing exists except the soldier, but sometimes, sometimes, Steve comes up for air. ]

Then why won't you let me think the same about you?

[ His jaw sets just the way he's about to dig in his heels and snap, no, you move. ]

You're my best guy.

’Cause the Reds didn’t chew you up and spit you out, Stevie.

[He sighs faintly. He knows Steve will probably still disagree with him, but...]

You’ve always had that goodness in you. Never changed even with the Howlies. I saw it every damn day and was so fuckin’ proud...

But I don’t think I was even me anymore when you found on that table. Nothing really felt right anymore, even when it was supposed t’ be.

[He just never knew how to say it, and maybe saying it all now is too late, but he’s gotta say if Steve’s ever gonna understand.]

[ He exhales explosively, and his shoulders drop. They have names for it now, post traumatic stress. Even then Steve's not so sure they're anywhere near close to figuring out how to live with it. Sam's made it, but he's resilient. ]

Why did you pull me from the Potomac, Buck?

[ He shifts, rests his cheek on the crown of Bucky's head. Softly, ]

Sure, you got real quiet in the War, but you were never cruel. I coulda written up the papers for a discharge, God knows I woulda gotten away with it too. Not once did you ask. Pal, I don't need you to come back actin' like the same fella you were, or bein' some way you think is right for me. I just need you to be here. You're what kept me going then, and that hasn't changed.

[He falls silent and just listens. Because Steve is reason while his own mind is chaos right now. But it still gets jumbled up, and he just doesn’t know.]

How’m I supposed to keep you going if I don’t know who the fuck I’m supposed to be?

[It comes out a little harsher than he intends, so he mumbles a quiet apology before he continues.]

I know how to be who I was before and during, but I don’t know what else I’m supposed to be like now. I don’t know what to do with anything, it’s—Christ—terrifying, okay? The only me I know how to be now is what they did to me. And I don’t want that. I don’t want to be that. So what am I? Who am I supposed to be if it’s not for you?

[He doesn’t expect an answer. Really, he could be asking God or whoever else at this point. But it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t expect an answer.]

[ Softly, ]

I didn't — I'm not trying to put it on you.

[ And he wouldn't, anyway, Steve only has what he thinks Buck might need, and they are the same in needing purpose. When he was another man he said you're my mission, but Steve was always his mission. ]

Sorry.

[ He doesn't have answers. This is more Sam's wheelhouse than his. All Steve has is the patience he can scrabble together and hand clumsily to his best friend, and hope it will be enough. ]

I'm so sorry.

[He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Defeat hurts. Bucky wishes it didn’t happen every damn day.]

No, no.

C’mon, Stevie, don’t be sorry. I know you weren’t—

[A proper sigh this time as he presses into Steve. Fuck pretense.]

It’s not you. It was never you. It’s just my shit, and you don’t need my shit like this.

[What a royal fuck-up. Good job making things worse for your best guy, Barnes.]

I should— [He draws back.] —go.

[Collect his head. That way Steve doesn’t have to see how broken he really is and how none of the pieces fit right anymore.]

I’ll ruin your morning at this rate.

[meme] open post / picture prompt catch-all

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