[ Of course he has a microwave. He doesn't have much else in his apartment, but he at least has a microwave. Decorating his apartment wasn't exactly at the top of his priority list when it came to acclimating to the new century, but at least the internet made it easy enough to have things delivered to his doorstep. Putting stuff together was another thing entirely, of course, which is why his hall closet might have two or three IKEA boxes haphazardly shoved in there.
Unfortunately, not having "much else" makes it harder for him to make it less obvious that he's been camping out on his living room floor. In the end, he shoves his blankets in the closet with the boxes and hopes for the best.
When Steve knocks, he opens the door, raising an eyebrow at him. ]
Do I have a microwave? O ye of little faith, Steve.
( the raised eyebrow is met with with a cheeky grin. steve has been to bucky's place a few times since he moved in, though bucky always seems to be in the process of the moving in part. as steve steps inside the apartment, he can see the process is still ongoing. )
I couldn't be too sure. ( he tries to school his expression, act like he's not at least a little bit concerned about bucky's sparse living space. the ikea boxes may be out of sight, but steve can sense they're there. ) Have you used it yet?
( he offers bucky one of the hot dogs. )
Just wanna make sure it works. ( it's not a thinly veiled interrogation of bucky's living habits or anything. )
[ Bucky rolls his eyes, shutting the door and snatching the hot dog as he walks past Steve. ]
It works. Easier than the oven, that's for damn sure.
[ He throws a gesture at him over his shoulder, walking towards his little kitchen area. It's about as sparse as the rest of his apartment but, in his defense, he's been trying to get out more and eating at whatever family-owned hole-in-the-wall restaurants he can find. Incidentally, the microwave is great for heating up his leftovers. ]
Here. [ He pats the microwave with his free hand, almost proud. ] See? It works like a dream.
( steve follows, noting the lack of decor, the lack of anything that could really be called a fingerprint of the person who lives here. he has a passing thought to get something for bucky and bring it next time—a poster, or a framed picture—but wonders if that would be overstepping.
in the kitchenette, he eyes the microwave approvingly. ) Good, because I did not really come equipped with a contingency plan for the popcorn.
( he drops the microwavable packet on the counter. )
I also didn't bring any extra butter, so if you've got some of that... ( his eyes dart to the refrigerator and away again, almost sheepishly. he turns the popcorn packet around so the words "butter lovers" are visible. ) Though it should have plenty already on there, so...not the end of the world if you don't.
Could've made it in a pan on the stovetop. Bet we could've kept it in the bag and everything, too.
[ Bucky shrugs at that. They didn't have microwaves before and they managed — barely, but still. They could figure something out.
He scoops up the packet, shaking it out as he glances at the instructions on it. ]
Yeah, can't say I do. We should be fine.
[ He tosses the packet into the microwave and punches a few buttons, giving Steve a bit of a smirk as he does so, as if to rub in the fact that yes, he has a microwave and yes, he knows how to use it, thank you very much. ]
( he smiles in response to bucky's smirk. fine—he's impressed. also, there was a time when he never thought he'd never get to stand in bucky's kitchen, watching him make microwave popcorn with that dumb smirk that hasn't changed since 1935. so, yeah. steve has a lot to smile about.
as the microwave whirs, steve presses his palms into the countertop and leans back on his hands. ) You've got a pan, but no butter? What do you cook with?
[ He knows when he's caught. It takes him a good moment to think of how exactly to answer that before he just shrugs. ]
I, you know— take out. There's a lot of take out.
[ In fairness to Bucky, he had tried a few of the frozen meals he'd found at the grocery store. But after getting over how overwhelming the grocery stores these days were and fact that you could just get a meal like that, he realized that said frozen meals were, well.
Extremely underwhelming. ]
I'm supporting local businesses. [ he adds almost weakly. But it's true, damnit. ]
( a small divot appears between steve's brows, a spasm, gone as quickly as it appeared. he doesn't want to appear pitying, especially since it's not even pity he feels. not really. he knows what it's like, is all. to be overwhelmed by a shiny new century. to be weighted down by so many memories that it's a struggle to get off the couch, let alone buy groceries or cook a meal. he'd help if bucky let him.
he worries. but he tries not to let it show. ) Right. I'm sure they value your patronage. And I mean, there are so many good places to eat around here...
( he pauses. a kernel pops in the silence. )
If you ever want a home cooked meal, you're always welcome to come over. ( not that steve is the best chef in town, or anything, but he still remembers how to make his mom's beef stew, and he's picked up a new trick or two in the past few years. )
He falls silent, watching the microwave. Had it been this hard in Bucharest or in any of his other safe houses? Not really, but only because there were a thousand and one other difficult things he was working through at the time.
The corners of his mouth twitch slightly as Steve speaks again because— there it is, he knew it was coming. Steve had invited him over to stay with him when the dust had settled, but the guilt kept Bucky away. ]
Yeah? You cooking these days, Rogers? [ It's a casual remark, and he smirks a bit at that. ]
Hey, I cooked...before. ( back when he was fending for himself. when his mom got sick, he started cooking a lot more. and when she passed, well. he was only cooking for one, and he didn't have anyone to impress, but he was still cooking. bucky helped back then, of course—or as much as steve would let him, which wasn't much.
they're really similar in that regard. now, being on the other side of things, steve feels a little guilty for all the times he pushed bucky away. )
I call it cooking, at least. Not sure if other people see it the same way. Sam had...notes, the few times he tried it.
( steve's smiling, though. so clearly the feedback wasn't all that scathing. )
I just figured, you know, with everything the 21st century has to offer at your fingertips— [ and at that, he gestures off towards his phone, sitting nearby on the counter. ] — plus with how busy you probably are, why bother?
( he catches himself watching bucky chew his lip—and looks away, observing the floor instead. it's nice flooring, probably laminate designed to look like hardwood panels, if he had to guess. but convincing enough. uhh, what was the question? oh. right. )
I've tried a bunch of things. Shakshuka, chicken paprikash—Wanda showed me how to make that one—kimchi pancakes... Have you had jackfruit? You can make it taste like pulled pork.
( he crosses his arms, hunching his shoulders slightly in an unconscious effort to make himself a little smaller, and glances at bucky. )
Of course, I'd be lying if I said most of what I make isn't just...instant mac 'n cheese and baked potatoes.
( the thirties were no party. there was the great depression, for one thing. steve's mother passing away. the lead-up to a second world war. but steve has a lot of fond memories, too, most of them involving bucky. steve would never call them "the good old days" or long for a return to them, but after everything that's happened, sometimes he feels nostalgic for those simpler times.
he lowers his gaze once more, this time to bucky's metal arm, then catches himself again and jerks his eyes back up. he smiles. )
Your choice. Or I could do both. A little bit of the old with something new? Feel like they might go well together.
[ He catches Steve glancing over at his arm and tenses up just a bit. It never bothered him — or at least, by the time he was "himself" enough to realize he'd lost an arm in the fall, he'd had the metal one for so long that he was used to it. And at that point, there weren't many people around who'd known him before the train, before the war, before all of it.
And then, there's Steve.
Bucky shifts his position, smirking — partially at the thought of Steve's proposal, and partially to mask his discomfort. ]
I feel like you're reaching here, but you know what? I'll take you up on it. See if you can put your money where your mouth is.
( the last thing he wants to do is make bucky uncomfortable, but...he still hasn't fully reconciled with his own guilt about his role in what happened to bucky. if only he'd searched for him after the war, if only he'd caught him from falling, if only he hadn't led him into a dangerous mission. if only, if only, if only. but then he hears a voice in his head, which sounds suspiciously like peggy, telling him to snap out of it. that it's not about him.
if he senses that bucky's masking something (something that steve caused, because he's an idiot), he doesn't let on. just matches him, smirk for sly smirk. )
I'm gonna hold you to it. That means you have to accept my invite and actually, you know...come over. ( he pushes off the counter and crosses the few feet towards the microwave, peeking at the semi-inflated popcorn bag, then turns back to bucky. ) Maybe even bring something.
I mean. If you want me to. They've got all kinds of things I could bring over now, like those little pastries or whatever.
[ He spreads his hands out, gesturing vaguely before lowering them, letting them hang at his sides uselessly for a moment. ]
. . . Sorry. I've been busy. [ Which is a lame excuse, Bucky knows, but at least he's offering it. Better than years on the run without a word, followed by a stint in cryofreeze without much in the way of "hi, how are you, how's the 21st century been treating you?". Baby steps. ] Therapy's kicking my ass.
( at first, he thinks bucky's just going to leave it at "i've been busy." and that would've been fine, even though steve wishes he'd open up more. but then he does open up more, and steve's look softens. he gives his head a small shake. )
Hey—it's okay. ( he drops his hands, then stuffs them in his pockets, fighting the temptation to reach out and lay one on bucky's shoulder. his arm. ) You don't have to apologize. I didn't mean... I was just giving you a hard time.
( like old times. but some things aren't ready to go back to like old times. some things might never be. the popcorn fills the silence with a rat-a-tat-tat of feverish pops, like miniature gunfire. )
Nah, I know, we're always giving each other hell. [ And he gives him a shrug at that. He didn't feel needled and really, the apology had been a long time coming. At that, he glances off to the side. ] But it needed to be said.
[ If Bucky expected to feel like a weight had been lifted off of him, he'd be sorely disappointed. Fortunately, at this point, he's come to not really expect anything.
He tenses up briefly as the popcorn begins to pop, the sound all too familiar over the decades for a split second before he reminds himself that no, it's just popcorn. The tension leaves him as quickly as it came. ]
Talk about, what, therapy kicking my ass? It's like a biweekly beating courtesy of the United States government.
( his shoulders relax slightly. there's more he wants to say, assurances that bucky doesn't owe him an apology for anything, least of all for taking the time and the space he needed. but steve keeps it to himself, letting bucky say what he feels he needs to say.
a small, somewhat rueful smile appears on his lips. ) Sounds rough. Do you think it... Is it—helping at all? Or does it just feel like a waste of time?
( he doesn't know what helping would look like. bucky seems to be doing better, but steve knows appearances can be deceiving. he also knows the therapy was more for the lawmakers' peace of mind than out of any genuine desire to help bucky. a band-aid to make them feel like they were addressing the winter soldier problem. if bucky thinks it's helpful, then that's one thing. if not, well. )
[ Was it helping? He chuckles to himself softly at the thought. The constant nightmares and the tangled bundle of blankets haphazardly shoved into his closet would say otherwise.
Bucky didn't like lying to Steve, but it came to him easily at this point. No, he wasn't tired after working a double down at the docks. Of course he'd enlisted, it wasn't like he was drafted or anything. He was fine after Azzano, really. Nothing happened. He's fine. It's fine.
It never felt good. ]
Eh, it's alright. [ And at that, he flashes him a toothy grin. ] I say what they want to hear and Doc only rides my ass a little bit. [ and, without missing a beat, he pushes himself away from the counter, walking over to the fridge. ] Are you thirsty? I'm thirsty.
( it doesn't feel good, but it does feel familiar. steve could always (usually) tell when bucky was lying to him, even if he didn't always call him out on it. and this time is no different. steve presses his lips together as bucky turns away, and he hasn't decided if this is going to be a call-him-on-it moment or not when he opens his mouth again and says, ) Bucky—
( the microwave lets out a long, shrill tone. steve deflates. )
...Sure, I could use a drink.
( he waits another moment or two for the last few kernels to pop, then pulls open the microwave and picks out the bag. as he gingerly tears the paper apart, it releases a cloud of steam, and the thick, savory smell of butter fills the air. steve stares down at the bag and gives it a shake. )
[ Alcohol doesn't do anything for him, but he keeps it around just in case. Mostly, it's familiar. It also helps that it makes his refrigerator look a little less sad and empty. Probably.
He pulls out a couple of beers, shaking a bottle at him. ]
I don't know if it's just me getting old, but they don't taste nearly as shitty as they used to.
[ Bucky sets them down with a clink, then reaches for a cabinet to get a bowl, rummaging through his mess of dishes. Ordering online made it easy to get some "household essentials" as dictated by the internet, at least, but keeping track of what he put where was another story. ] Where is— aha. Here, use this.
( he lets out a huff of laughter. ) I don't think it's just you. Pickings were a lot slimmer, too...back then.
( the frustration of moments ago still sits beneath his skin—the words he didn't say stuck on the tip of his tongue—but steve can't help echoing bucky's smile as he tips the bag into the bowl. part of him was fully expecting to have to eat out of the bag. his smile is fleeting, though, flickering out as he casts about for the garbage can.
once he's tossed the bag, he goes over to where bucky set the beers. forgoing a bottle opener, he plies off the caps with his bare hands, picks one up, and takes a drink. he can almost pretend it has a calming effect on his nerves. )
Do you miss it? ( he faces bucky, still gripping his beer. ) Getting drunk.
God yes. [ His response is instantaneous as he snatches up his beer, knocking it back. ] Maybe it wasn't a healthy coping mechanism, but it was my unhealthy coping mechanism.
[ With a small nod, Bucky steps back out to his living room and takes a seat at one end of the couch. ]
I've gone out a couple times, just casual stuff. People get real concerned if they see the bottles starting to pile up.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Unfortunately, not having "much else" makes it harder for him to make it less obvious that he's been camping out on his living room floor. In the end, he shoves his blankets in the closet with the boxes and hopes for the best.
When Steve knocks, he opens the door, raising an eyebrow at him. ]
Do I have a microwave? O ye of little faith, Steve.
no subject
I couldn't be too sure. ( he tries to school his expression, act like he's not at least a little bit concerned about bucky's sparse living space. the ikea boxes may be out of sight, but steve can sense they're there. ) Have you used it yet?
( he offers bucky one of the hot dogs. )
Just wanna make sure it works. ( it's not a thinly veiled interrogation of bucky's living habits or anything. )
no subject
It works. Easier than the oven, that's for damn sure.
[ He throws a gesture at him over his shoulder, walking towards his little kitchen area. It's about as sparse as the rest of his apartment but, in his defense, he's been trying to get out more and eating at whatever family-owned hole-in-the-wall restaurants he can find. Incidentally, the microwave is great for heating up his leftovers. ]
Here. [ He pats the microwave with his free hand, almost proud. ] See? It works like a dream.
no subject
in the kitchenette, he eyes the microwave approvingly. ) Good, because I did not really come equipped with a contingency plan for the popcorn.
( he drops the microwavable packet on the counter. )
I also didn't bring any extra butter, so if you've got some of that... ( his eyes dart to the refrigerator and away again, almost sheepishly. he turns the popcorn packet around so the words "butter lovers" are visible. ) Though it should have plenty already on there, so...not the end of the world if you don't.
no subject
[ Bucky shrugs at that. They didn't have microwaves before and they managed — barely, but still. They could figure something out.
He scoops up the packet, shaking it out as he glances at the instructions on it. ]
Yeah, can't say I do. We should be fine.
[ He tosses the packet into the microwave and punches a few buttons, giving Steve a bit of a smirk as he does so, as if to rub in the fact that yes, he has a microwave and yes, he knows how to use it, thank you very much. ]
no subject
as the microwave whirs, steve presses his palms into the countertop and leans back on his hands. ) You've got a pan, but no butter? What do you cook with?
no subject
I, you know— take out. There's a lot of take out.
[ In fairness to Bucky, he had tried a few of the frozen meals he'd found at the grocery store. But after getting over how overwhelming the grocery stores these days were and fact that you could just get a meal like that, he realized that said frozen meals were, well.
Extremely underwhelming. ]
I'm supporting local businesses. [ he adds almost weakly. But it's true, damnit. ]
no subject
he worries. but he tries not to let it show. ) Right. I'm sure they value your patronage. And I mean, there are so many good places to eat around here...
( he pauses. a kernel pops in the silence. )
If you ever want a home cooked meal, you're always welcome to come over. ( not that steve is the best chef in town, or anything, but he still remembers how to make his mom's beef stew, and he's picked up a new trick or two in the past few years. )
no subject
[ There are, it's true.
He falls silent, watching the microwave. Had it been this hard in Bucharest or in any of his other safe houses? Not really, but only because there were a thousand and one other difficult things he was working through at the time.
The corners of his mouth twitch slightly as Steve speaks again because— there it is, he knew it was coming. Steve had invited him over to stay with him when the dust had settled, but the guilt kept Bucky away. ]
Yeah? You cooking these days, Rogers? [ It's a casual remark, and he smirks a bit at that. ]
argh, i never got this notif. dw!!!
they're really similar in that regard. now, being on the other side of things, steve feels a little guilty for all the times he pushed bucky away. )
I call it cooking, at least. Not sure if other people see it the same way. Sam had...notes, the few times he tried it.
( steve's smiling, though. so clearly the feedback wasn't all that scathing. )
it's okay, dw likes to do that!!
[ He has an idea, at least.
Bucky chews at his lip idly, considering. ]
What do you make these days, anyway?
smh. so rude
I've tried a bunch of things. Shakshuka, chicken paprikash—Wanda showed me how to make that one—kimchi pancakes... Have you had jackfruit? You can make it taste like pulled pork.
( he crosses his arms, hunching his shoulders slightly in an unconscious effort to make himself a little smaller, and glances at bucky. )
Of course, I'd be lying if I said most of what I make isn't just...instant mac 'n cheese and baked potatoes.
no subject
Make a fruit taste like pulled pork, huh. So, what, are you offering me the jackfruit? Or a mac 'n cheese night?
[ It's gentle teasing, mostly. He scuffs his foot against the floor, voice softening when he speaks again. ]
I mean. There's nothing wrong with instant mac 'n cheese. It was good enough for us in the thirties.
no subject
( the thirties were no party. there was the great depression, for one thing. steve's mother passing away. the lead-up to a second world war. but steve has a lot of fond memories, too, most of them involving bucky. steve would never call them "the good old days" or long for a return to them, but after everything that's happened, sometimes he feels nostalgic for those simpler times.
he lowers his gaze once more, this time to bucky's metal arm, then catches himself again and jerks his eyes back up. he smiles. )
Your choice. Or I could do both. A little bit of the old with something new? Feel like they might go well together.
no subject
[ He catches Steve glancing over at his arm and tenses up just a bit. It never bothered him — or at least, by the time he was "himself" enough to realize he'd lost an arm in the fall, he'd had the metal one for so long that he was used to it. And at that point, there weren't many people around who'd known him before the train, before the war, before all of it.
And then, there's Steve.
Bucky shifts his position, smirking — partially at the thought of Steve's proposal, and partially to mask his discomfort. ]
I feel like you're reaching here, but you know what? I'll take you up on it. See if you can put your money where your mouth is.
no subject
if he senses that bucky's masking something (something that steve caused, because he's an idiot), he doesn't let on. just matches him, smirk for sly smirk. )
I'm gonna hold you to it. That means you have to accept my invite and actually, you know...come over. ( he pushes off the counter and crosses the few feet towards the microwave, peeking at the semi-inflated popcorn bag, then turns back to bucky. ) Maybe even bring something.
( you know. social things. )
no subject
[ He spreads his hands out, gesturing vaguely before lowering them, letting them hang at his sides uselessly for a moment. ]
. . . Sorry. I've been busy. [ Which is a lame excuse, Bucky knows, but at least he's offering it. Better than years on the run without a word, followed by a stint in cryofreeze without much in the way of "hi, how are you, how's the 21st century been treating you?". Baby steps. ] Therapy's kicking my ass.
no subject
Hey—it's okay. ( he drops his hands, then stuffs them in his pockets, fighting the temptation to reach out and lay one on bucky's shoulder. his arm. ) You don't have to apologize. I didn't mean... I was just giving you a hard time.
( like old times. but some things aren't ready to go back to like old times. some things might never be. the popcorn fills the silence with a rat-a-tat-tat of feverish pops, like miniature gunfire. )
You wanna talk about it?
no subject
[ If Bucky expected to feel like a weight had been lifted off of him, he'd be sorely disappointed. Fortunately, at this point, he's come to not really expect anything.
He tenses up briefly as the popcorn begins to pop, the sound all too familiar over the decades for a split second before he reminds himself that no, it's just popcorn. The tension leaves him as quickly as it came. ]
Talk about, what, therapy kicking my ass? It's like a biweekly beating courtesy of the United States government.
no subject
a small, somewhat rueful smile appears on his lips. ) Sounds rough. Do you think it... Is it—helping at all? Or does it just feel like a waste of time?
( he doesn't know what helping would look like. bucky seems to be doing better, but steve knows appearances can be deceiving. he also knows the therapy was more for the lawmakers' peace of mind than out of any genuine desire to help bucky. a band-aid to make them feel like they were addressing the winter soldier problem. if bucky thinks it's helpful, then that's one thing. if not, well. )
no subject
Bucky didn't like lying to Steve, but it came to him easily at this point. No, he wasn't tired after working a double down at the docks. Of course he'd enlisted, it wasn't like he was drafted or anything. He was fine after Azzano, really. Nothing happened. He's fine. It's fine.
It never felt good. ]
Eh, it's alright. [ And at that, he flashes him a toothy grin. ] I say what they want to hear and Doc only rides my ass a little bit. [ and, without missing a beat, he pushes himself away from the counter, walking over to the fridge. ] Are you thirsty? I'm thirsty.
no subject
( the microwave lets out a long, shrill tone. steve deflates. )
...Sure, I could use a drink.
( he waits another moment or two for the last few kernels to pop, then pulls open the microwave and picks out the bag. as he gingerly tears the paper apart, it releases a cloud of steam, and the thick, savory smell of butter fills the air. steve stares down at the bag and gives it a shake. )
no subject
He pulls out a couple of beers, shaking a bottle at him. ]
I don't know if it's just me getting old, but they don't taste nearly as shitty as they used to.
[ Bucky sets them down with a clink, then reaches for a cabinet to get a bowl, rummaging through his mess of dishes. Ordering online made it easy to get some "household essentials" as dictated by the internet, at least, but keeping track of what he put where was another story. ] Where is— aha. Here, use this.
[ He holds out a decent sized bowl with a grin. ]
no subject
( the frustration of moments ago still sits beneath his skin—the words he didn't say stuck on the tip of his tongue—but steve can't help echoing bucky's smile as he tips the bag into the bowl. part of him was fully expecting to have to eat out of the bag. his smile is fleeting, though, flickering out as he casts about for the garbage can.
once he's tossed the bag, he goes over to where bucky set the beers. forgoing a bottle opener, he plies off the caps with his bare hands, picks one up, and takes a drink. he can almost pretend it has a calming effect on his nerves. )
Do you miss it? ( he faces bucky, still gripping his beer. ) Getting drunk.
no subject
[ With a small nod, Bucky steps back out to his living room and takes a seat at one end of the couch. ]
I've gone out a couple times, just casual stuff. People get real concerned if they see the bottles starting to pile up.
(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)
slowly crawls back from moving hell.
welcome back!
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)