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.
( following bucky into the living room, steve takes a seat next to him within arm's reach of the popcorn, but he doesn't reach for it yet. just takes another pull on his beer. the taste reminds him of the days where they spent their spare change on a few cans of rheingold and drank them on the floor of steve's apartment, until his face was hot and his fingertips tingled. as small as he was, it didn't take much to get him tipsy back then. he could usually put back one to bucky's every two and a half.
he picks at the label on his bottle. ) Yeah? You been meeting people? ( he pauses. plays that back in his head, and then says, ) You know... Friends. Or—could be more than friends. Either way.
[ Bucky practically chokes on his beer with laughter. He takes a moment to wipe at his mouth, shoulders shaking with amusement. ]
— meeting people? Steve, come on. [ But it's funny, really. Back in the day, sure, but— ] I've gone to a few bars and had a chat or two with a few folks, sure. But if you're talking about dates? Nah. Have you even looked at the crap people post online? It's something else.
( even though bucky's technically laughing at him, steve can't help smiling against the lip of his bottle. his eyes roll a half-turn. )
I meant friends, ( he says again, bringing his beer back down to his lap. ) But...I didn't want to assume.
( is he a tiny bit relieved that bucky's not dating anyone? maybe. but it's selfishly motivated, and he does his best to hide it. )
Well, you don't have to date those people—the ones posting crap online. It narrows the pool, sure, but... ( he clears his throat. ) There are good people out there, too.
[ It's gentle teasing, though. Bucky reaches over for the bowl, grabbing some popcorn. ]
Okay, if there's good people out there, then why aren't you dating them? [ He raises an eyebrow before shoving the fistful of popcorn into his mouth, munching away. ]
( he blows out a breath. ) I tried—briefly, but then the Sokovia accords happened, and the whole thing with Tony...
( and you, he thinks, but doesn't say. he glances at bucky and away again. )
Sharon. Remember? She was the one who helped us—met us at the underpass with our gear.
( bucky probably remembers, considering he was watching when steve and sharon... but it also feels like half a lifetime ago, and bucky's been through a lot since then, so maybe it's not exactly fresh in his memory anymore. )
I don't know if anyone told you, but she's Peggy's niece.
[ His expression sobers at the mention of her. Sharon — right. She put her neck out for them, even after he'd attacked her. Granted, Bucky wasn't in his right mind at the time, but still.
Of course she'd be Carter's niece. Of course. ]
Yeah? I didn't know that. [ a beat. ] Did she make it out okay?
( it's a bit of a loaded question. she's alive, but okay? steve's not so sure, and the furrow between his brows says as much. )
She's still wanted by the government. I've been trying to get Washington to pardon her, but...at the end of the day, being Captain America only gets you so far.
( he raises his beer to his lips again and takes another drink. )
I haven't heard from her, and I haven't been able to track her down. Doesn't mean I won't stop trying. ( he leans back, his smile somewhat rueful. ) But it also means we probably won't be going out for coffee any time soon.
[ So wait, the government is okay with pardoning the Winter Soldier, but has a problem with Sharon Carter? Their priorities were more skewed than he'd thought.
Bucky grimaces. ]
Yeah, that'll throw any budding relationship for a loop. [ He dips his head a bit at that. ] Sorry about that, pal.
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[ 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.
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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.
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( 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.
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[ 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.
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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. )
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[ 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.
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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?
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[ 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.
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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. )
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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.
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( 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. )
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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. ]
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( 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.
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[ 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.
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he picks at the label on his bottle. ) Yeah? You been meeting people? ( he pauses. plays that back in his head, and then says, ) You know... Friends. Or—could be more than friends. Either way.
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— meeting people? Steve, come on. [ But it's funny, really. Back in the day, sure, but— ] I've gone to a few bars and had a chat or two with a few folks, sure. But if you're talking about dates? Nah. Have you even looked at the crap people post online? It's something else.
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I meant friends, ( he says again, bringing his beer back down to his lap. ) But...I didn't want to assume.
( is he a tiny bit relieved that bucky's not dating anyone? maybe. but it's selfishly motivated, and he does his best to hide it. )
Well, you don't have to date those people—the ones posting crap online. It narrows the pool, sure, but... ( he clears his throat. ) There are good people out there, too.
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Yeah, I bet you did.
[ It's gentle teasing, though. Bucky reaches over for the bowl, grabbing some popcorn. ]
Okay, if there's good people out there, then why aren't you dating them? [ He raises an eyebrow before shoving the fistful of popcorn into his mouth, munching away. ]
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( and you, he thinks, but doesn't say. he glances at bucky and away again. )
Sharon. Remember? She was the one who helped us—met us at the underpass with our gear.
( bucky probably remembers, considering he was watching when steve and sharon... but it also feels like half a lifetime ago, and bucky's been through a lot since then, so maybe it's not exactly fresh in his memory anymore. )
I don't know if anyone told you, but she's Peggy's niece.
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Of course she'd be Carter's niece. Of course. ]
Yeah? I didn't know that. [ a beat. ] Did she make it out okay?
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She's still wanted by the government. I've been trying to get Washington to pardon her, but...at the end of the day, being Captain America only gets you so far.
( he raises his beer to his lips again and takes another drink. )
I haven't heard from her, and I haven't been able to track her down. Doesn't mean I won't stop trying. ( he leans back, his smile somewhat rueful. ) But it also means we probably won't be going out for coffee any time soon.
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Bucky grimaces. ]
Yeah, that'll throw any budding relationship for a loop. [ He dips his head a bit at that. ] Sorry about that, pal.
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slowly crawls back from moving hell.
welcome back!
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