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

[ They saw it together in 1942 at HQ, Bucky got real thoughtful, after. He had his quiet moments in the War, and Steve tried not to push then, but it hurt. His best friend who never seemed to care much about the state of his collar or the smell of his clothes when at home he wouldn't have been seen dead like that. Steve always thought there'd be time to talk to him, after. There would be an after. It was the two of them, it was war, but there was nothing they couldn't get through together. ]

[ Buck's lying on his back, Steve is — deliberately — the first thing any assailant will see coming into this corner of the garden. They're not left to their own devices: the Dora Milaje are always around. There should be two of them silently prowling around, but Steve can't really bring himself to complain. They're here on T'Challa's charity, and every concession is small compared to the fact that he will — without hesitation — send his people to die if anyone comes looking for them. It doesn't sit right, which is why they're leaving as soon as Buck's comfortable walking outside in the world. ]

[ For now, Steve nudges Bucky's toes with his own in a lazy motion, and hums the next two bars absently as he starts outlining Buck's body on the page. Being in his space is like breathing — he stumbles without it. Steve has been recalibrating in response to any request, verbal or otherwise, for space. Seventy years they were apart; over three times longer than they were together in life. ]

I think Sam might get annoyed you're not catching up on Harry Potter with him.

[ Sam, who's taken full charge of both their film and music education. ]

You didn't hear that from me.

[He doesn’t even think when his foot nudges Steve’s back; it just happens. The fondness of the gesture is almost unrecognizable to him, even though it comes so immediately—so naturally—and a dull ache in his chest stifles the warm feeling his mind tells him should be there but isn’t.

He wants to reach out before the moment slips through his fingers. Again. He wants to recognize what they had been and should still be now. He needs to know if any of it still means anything to Steve, if what he knows isn't a lie and that Steve doesn't just want this side of him, the one everyone counts on being there but not the one he actually is.

Bucky hums the next bar lazily as he watches the top of the pencil dancing in the air as Steve draws. When the following bar passes him by, he turns back to look at the sky.]

He can stuff it. I don’t see what’s so great about that kid.

[While the universe itself is interesting to Bucky, he’s lost on why Harry Potter is considered a hero. Everything Harry does is so predominantly self-serving, which is the complete opposite of what a hero should be. A real hero is willing to give up everything for someone else. Even if that someone doesn't deserve it.

He clenches his jaw briefly before continuing.]

But I’ll watch it if you want.

[Because this is Steve’s choice. Shield or not, Steve is Steve, and Bucky is just his shadow.]

Edited (wrong word) 2016-08-14 03:06 (UTC)

[ The body knows. Steve's leg moves in a slow, pendulum motion, stopping only when he shifts to one side of the smooth rock he's sitting on to make the contact permanent. The sketchbook slides down on his knee, but there's no self-consciousness — Bucky judged all his drawings back when and bought him pencils with the shared money they kept aside for luxuries, which Steve had been planning to use to buy him a new cologne. Buck never said — Steve had just caught him eyeing it once too often. ]

[ He can't draw Buck from memory — and won't. Part of this is learning where the new currents of tension move in his body, when, exactly, the smiles reach his eyes. The iron, too, untransmutable, of his soul. Bucky was always the best man he knew; nothing can tarnish that. ]

I think you might like Ginny.

[ Steve's favourite is (predictably) faithful, loyal Ron. ]

There's also Star Wars. I ain't seen it yet.

[When he feels Steve’s steady weight against him, warmth swells in his chest, and he has to let out a quick breath to steady his nerves at the recognition his body has that his mind cannot seem to translate into an emotion he can make sense of. It’s confusing as much as it is pleasant, but his mind settles on the fact it is a good thing, and Bucky clings onto it with his entire existence.

He catches the sound of the book slide. His eyes meat the page before he even thinks about wanting to look. Bucky can only draw shitty stick figures. Why did there have to be a fucking war?]

She sounds nice. [Which he said about any dame’s name back when things were still good and the water flowed just right, but now he says it because it’s a pretty name, and Bucky wants to think that's enough to make a good person these days, even when it's not.]

That the one in outer space? You tellin’ me you don’t like stars anymore, Rogers?

[Because some time soon, he wants to ask. Just them on a roof and the night sky. Like they used to.]

[ She is — but this is Sam's jurisdiction, not so much his. Steve's mouth pulls into a smile which he tries not to make too hopeful. It's unfair to expect that Buck is going to be all right with the same kind of physical affection they were both used to in Brooklyn, and the War. He didn't react favourably on the Quinjet. Steve doesn't even know if the man he is now is still tactile. Can't hurt to try — he'll withdraw the second he sees discomfort. ]

[ Not right now, as the sketch resolves into Bucky's body lying in the grass. ]

You don't talk: you ain't even seen the moon landing yet.

[But he had. The expression drops from his face, his muscles going still and his breath shallow. His eyes grow distant as he remembers a television that would no longer be watched. A man gasps for air against the metal. It’s a cleaner job than most. The target is to disappear without a trace. Bucky only catches the end of what's on the screen, but he doesn’t care.

He licks his lips, that old anxious habit, and forces a smile on his face as he laughs a fake laugh that comes too easily.]

Guess you got me there. I don’t suppose they have that, do they?

[ War has a long history of turning friends into strangers. Steve blinks, and looks at Bucky curiously. He's harder to read these days -- he became cagey and it never left. Steve nudges his ankle with his toes, just a little hey, come back. ]

It's on YouTube. We could always ask to borrow a telescope if you want. Roof's not off limits.

[The nudge puts breath back in his lungs. He blinks a few times, and the anxiety fades. He's really here with Steve. It's not a dream.]

YouTube. [Slight exasperation. That magic Internet site has almost everything it seems. Bucky doesn’t get it at all. The telescope sounds much more tangible.]

D'ya think they’ll have one? ’Cause I’d love to if we can.

Pal, I don't think there's anything they don't have.

[ Showers he doesn't feel bad about taking his time with because the water is all recycled so efficiently. Buildings that feel they walked outta Verne and then some. They're no allowed to go where they want -- foreigners are noticed in Wakanda -- but what little they see is enough. This country has more than its share of wonders. ]

[ Where are we going? he asked once, in another life. The future, Buck said. Here they are. ]

Hey, move over.

[ The sketch is half done, but it's not important now. Steve closes the book and drops down on the grass, props himself up on an elbow on Buck's right, unapologetically in his personal space. ]

[The reality is that he already knows. He knows they won’t have any trouble getting a telescope if they ask, but that fact is so fucking surreal he ends up asking anyway. He still remembers struggling to make ends meet with Steve, making sure they’re getting enough food, double checking how much he takes from the jar so that there will be money for later. Even if things were getting a lot better by the time he left, the decadence of life now, especially here, is so foreign.

And then there’s Steve’s voice with its familiar lilt and cadence that his soul craves more than living.

He looks up when Steve moves, and his heart flutters gratefully when Steve takes his right. He shuffles over the slightest amount so that there’s room but not too much. He wants Steve’s shoulder to his. He wants to feel when Steve talks.]

You use one yet? A telescope. Seems like you could afford one nowadays.

[Since they never could before. Maybe it means just as much still, like the sketchbooks and the pencils. At least, he hopes.]

[ Absently, ]

Yeah.

[ He can afford practically anything. People just gave him things when he came outta the ice: awards, recognition. All accolades they think Captain America is owed, say nothing about Steve Rogers. Future money: seeing people pay with plastic instead a'cash. He doesn't need to launch into a tangent about that, though, saving it. They still need to talk about the Dodgers. ]

I look at Hubble pictures on the Internet.

[ So helpful. ]

You can't really see anything from the city anymore.

Hubble?

[What the fuck is a hubble? Stupid Internet things sound so fake.

But he chuckles at the latter remark.]

Yeah, I noticed. Damn shame, really. They’re all missin’ out, and they don’t even know it.

But, y'know, if we spent hours without a telescope before, I gotta wonder if we’ll even end up gettin' any sleep with one of those suckers.

[He smiles fondly at the idea regardless. Just him and Steve and the goddamn universe. Sounds like a perfectly good reason to stay awake.]

Hubble Telescope. It was launched into low orbit in 1990.

[ You know what, Steve wastes no time closing the distance between them, and sprawls half-on Bucky, his head resting over Buck's heart, and turns to grin at him. ]

Last I checked, I didn't need a lotta sleep. What d'you say pal? We can take a tent up if you start feelin' nostalgic.

[ He's not as funny as he thinks he is, probably. ]

[Oh. Like a satellite thing. That’s...pretty cool, now that he understands better. He’ll have to figure out how to look up those pictures.

As soon as Steve rolls over on him, he can’t stop the grin that plasters itself on his face. He tells himself it’s because it’s comfortable. The blood pumping through his veins is real now and not thick like mud. He chuckles before he knows it.]

Y’know what? I think that sounds perfect, Stevie. Yeah, let’s do it. Tent and blankets. The whole shebang. I’ll make the cocoa, and you can make the popcorn.

[Is he really talking about this? Are they really doing this? His heart races, and he looks down at Steve to make sure he’s really there. He is.]

[ Hard not to quite drown in the intensity of the smile, when Buck's had so little cause to use the muscles over the long years. Steve returns it, and then turns his head up to look at the lightening sky. A few clouds drift, but otherwise it's endless. ]

All right. After dinner.

[ Making plans could slip through their fingers, but that thought is far from his mind. He looks at Buck again. ]

What've you got for today? Another physical?

[The joy crashes in on him at the reminder. As much as he wishes, it’s not just the two of them, and there are other obligations that mean less time with Steve and more time pretending he isn’t gasping desperately for air. He takes a deep breath and lets out a slow sigh.]

Yeah. They wanna make sure my nerves are taking to the cleanup okay. There’s no major damage so far, but checking is important to keeping it that way or somethin’, so they say.

[But Bucky just never liked doctors even on the best of days. He doesn't like being touched by strangers.]

...you gonna be poppin’ in to watch again?

[’Cause he always likes it when Steve does. Steve won’t let them do anything weird to him. Steve knows him best.]

Wouldn't be anywhere else.

[ The doctors here are the best in the world, and ain't one of them going to treat Buck like HYDRA did but hell — call it worry. Steve hangs near the door, looking over the screens, and sometimes T'Challa is there too, another silent guardian. ]

You just say the word.

[ He never wants to leave Bucky by himself if he can help it — but it's also important to respect the man's space. ]

[He pretends he isn’t all nerves about being checked over like a science project again. He knows why they do it and why they need to. He knows why T’Challa even pops in sometimes. But he just wants to spend time with Steve and let the rest of the world fuck off.]

Which word, punk? ’Cause I ain’t sayin’ please.

[Even though he just did. Because he really does want to, but he doesn’t know how to say it right anymore. The word doesn't feel right in his mouth, just like half of what he wants to say to Steve.]

Jerk.

[ The tone is as openly fond as the smile he quirks, reflexively. It's good to know that some things survive the ravages of time, and he tries his hardest not to fall into a pit of nostalgia. Or anything that might make Buck think the good old days Steve never believed in were easier. Their lives were just different then, untouched by the War. They had an equilibrium that felt wired into them instead of grown and they are both working for it now. ]

They said anything about a new arm?

[He chuckles at the expected reply, and he grins with his teeth showing. This small comfort grounds him, despite how distant it feels. But it fades like the mist in the sky above them.

His hand seeks out Steve’s shoulder idly. It’s a lot thicker than his hand remembers, but it’s warm, and it’s Steve, and everything is okay.]

Yeah, they've got some prototype in the lab already. Very bare bones. Nothing fancy. Might still be a while before I even see it.

[His thumb traces the curve of muscle beneath Steve’s shirt.]

Y’think he’ll hook me up with some vibranium?

[ Steve's not a counter, but something in the back of his mind is keeping track. The ebbing currents of tension in Buck, as the soldiers in both of them keep alert of their surroundings. The juxtaposition of that with how he seems more and more relaxed the more time they spend together. ]

[ Even Steve smiles more. Sam's noticed. ]

I bet if you bat your eyelashes at him real nice...

[The suggestion surprises him, and he laughs sharply, rather in disbelief that it was even suggested. It clears out some of the weight in his lungs, and he remembers laughing til his abs hurt when Steve got ice cream on his nose and didn’t notice for several minutes until Bucky couldn’t hold back his amusement anymore. Steve had whacked him on the shoulder, but he was smiling, and nothing else mattered.

Steve smiles a different smile nowadays.]

Pal, you know I ain’t convincin’ anyone of anything the way I look now. Even if I get cleaned up, you were always better at that shit than me. I had the grin, and you had the damn eyes.

[He chuckles fondly, remembering how even if Steve couldn’t talk his way out of a paper bag, he always knew how to make people weak-kneed with his puppy eyes.]

[ He knows enough about T'Challa. The man feels guilt, but he's driven by a strong sense of duty. He offers because he believes the recipient is worth it. Steve pushes at Buck's good shoulder, lightly, face stuck in a smile as the laughter rings through Buck's body. ]

You ain't stopped bein' persuasive.

[ Even if that persuasion was taught to mean violence, Buck was always a diplomat first. They used to joke, when they were up late, that the war wasn't needed, just send Bucky Barnes to talk to old Mussolini, and they'd have Italy at their side in the morning. ]

[ Besides, Captain America means nothing to these people. They don't need him to be a hero and they'll never see him as one when they have plenty of their own around, and someone who's already an example in their king. ]

Edited 2016-08-15 04:28 (UTC)

[A bit of breath escapes him, and his nerves tingle from the praise. Steve always knows the right words. It’s a gift and a curse bundled together, something the makes his heart swell but means he’ll do anything Steve asks him to. He knows better, but he grips on to it tightly, not wanting to let go.

He eyes Steve’s beaming grin. He can’t help but match it with his own.]

Well, I’ll give it a shot, if you think I’ve got it in me.

[He says it like he would in the old days, knowing the Steve knows just as well as him that he’s only saying it ’cause he wants to hear Steve tell him he can do anything, that he’s good and worth something. It feels so desperate now, but time never changed what Steve’s thoughts meant to him.]

I'd like that.

[ If only because seeing he's still capable of whatever he puts his mind to might be good for Buck. He can manage with one arm — they both know the inside and out of that word. Managing. It'd be nice to have something that wasn't wired into his body without care for his long-term health. They can do anything in that lab; Steve's overheard them discussing printing organs from their 3D printer. They could probably have a new arm in under an hour. ]

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