( sometimes, when steve looks at bucky, he can almost pretend he's still the same smooth-talking lothario he knew in the twenties and thirties. he doesn't know if bucky's new ideas about dating are a sign of maturity, or a consequence of being tortured and brainwashed and surviving, only to be thrown right back on the battlefield to help prevent the apocalypse. probably the second one, but maybe a little of the first one, too. they are in their nineties, after all.
steve raises an eyebrow, and the corner of his mouth slides into a half-smile. )
Is that how you really feel about it? Because a second ago you seemed dead set against it.
Eh. ( he shrugs, smiles, tips his bottle back against his lips. ) I've got all the deeper connections I need.
( or maybe it's just that, with bucky back, he's more interested in reestablishing their connection than making new ones. is it healthy? steve wouldn't want to hear what bucky's therapist might have to say about it.
but, bucky mentioning his therapist again brings steve back to their conversation in the kitchen. maybe he shouldn't keep touching that nerve, but something's still not sitting right with him. so, he steels himself, and says, )
You know, if you don't like your therapist and wanted a new one, I could probably make some inquiries, or... ( he shrugs again, smaller this time. ) Something.
[ He smiles a bit at that. Funny, how they're still in sync after all these years.
That smile fades away as Steve brushes up against the therapy topic once more. Bucky's mouth tightens briefly before he forces out a huffy little laugh. ]
Yeah, you know? I get the feeling that's not gonna help much. [ He shrugs. ] It's not really my thing.
[ No shit it's not your thing, Barnes. He's already mentally kicking himself for that lame excuse, but what else can he do? Say it's not helping him and the nightmares are still haunting him regularly and oh, by the way, they're basically sitting right where he sleeps and isn't that just the saddest goddamn thing you've ever heard?
Christ.
He knocks his drink back. ]
Nice of you to offer, though. [ It's an afterthought, but he means it. Really. ]
( it's not that he wants to make bucky uncomfortable. he's just worried. and he knows he should probably take the hint and let it go, but he's never been very good at letting things go. especially when people he cares about are on the line.
he can hear what bucky's not saying. glimpse the truth behind his excuse. and it only makes him worry more. but he just nods, rolling his bottle slowly between his palms. )
You never know, a new person might make all the difference. Sam— ( he tries to tread lightly here, ) he's great at this kind of stuff. I've heard him speak down at the VA.
Pretty sure the last thing Sam needs right now is to be my therapist on top of all the other shit he's got on his plate.
[ It's true, even if it's also the last thing he wants.
Bucky sighs, lowering his drink. ]
You're dancing around something, aren't you. [ It's a plain statement, one he didn't want to make. Maybe they could ignore it, maybe they could just watch the stupid movie and eat their dumb, greasy popcorn.
Nah, who was he kidding. Steve could be just as stubborn as him. Always has been, always will be. This was inevitable. ] Just spit it out. I won't bite your head off. [ a beat. ] Probably.
[ After all the shit he's put him through, Bucky owes him at least that much. ]
( he's already formulating his arguments—sam won't mind, and either way, he'd do it as a favor to steve; it wouldn't be the first time steve called in a favor to help bucky, and he'd do it again in a heartbeat—but it all falls by the wayside when bucky cuts to the chase. he never did have much patience for steve's prevaricating.
steve picks at the label on his bottle for a moment before responding. )
I just want you to be honest with me and...to be able to tell me if—if you're not doing okay. ( before bucky can respond, he barrels on. ) I promise I won't try to fix it, or do anything you don't want me to do, but...
Bucky stares over at him for a moment, quiet, before he dips his head a bit. ]
I'm right here, Steve. Nothing to miss.
[ He spreads his arms at that before letting them flop down uselessly. He's a little older and a lot more rough around the edges, but he's here and he's himself, for better or for worse. ]
( for one hopeful moment, he thinks bucky might actually open up. tell him everything that's been going on, how he's been coping with life post-winter soldier, whether his bed is too soft. but if steve thought he'd managed to open that door, even just a crack, it shuts in his face again when bucky finally speaks. steve's expression shutters.
it's hard to describe the sensation of missing someone who's sitting right next to him. he misses when things were easier, when they told each other everything, when he didn't have to wonder about what was going on in bucky's head. when he didn't have to worry that bucky might disappear again. but it's not fair of him to put his expectations and his anxieties on bucky. so he keeps those thoughts to himself. he won't push bucky to share anything before he's ready. he might never be ready, and steve has to be okay with that, too.
he smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. ) I know. It's just...hard to believe sometimes, you know? I lost you so many times, and each time, I thought it was for good... I keep thinking I'll turn around and you'll be gone again.
[ Steve had always been an open book to him, which is why he distinctly feels an ache in his heart as Steve gives him that smile, that one that he's always hated, the one that just didn't fit on his face. And of course, it's because of him again.
Bucky looks down at his hands, chewing at his lip. It would be easy — so easy — to double down on everything. He's fine, isn't he? He's right here, and he's real, right? No Thanos, no Zola, no one left to rip him away. But it's not that easy, is it?
It takes him a long moment, but he stands up wordlessly, dusting himself off, and walks across the room, over to his hall closet. Fortunately for him, it's still within eyesight of the couch — which is good, considering what he's about to do.
Bucky rests his hand on the doorknob, taking in a deep breath, and yanks it open. A pile of blankets come tumbling out, along with a few IKEA boxes for furniture he hasn't even bothered to assemble.
He looks down at the mess on the floor for a moment, then turns back and stares at Steve, trying to meet him straight in the eye. ]
( when bucky doesn't say anything for a long moment, steve thinks he's done something wrong. overstepped. and he's watching bucky's face, an apology stuck in the back of his throat, but he doesn't dare say it yet. the moment feels fragile, like another wrong word could cause it to shatter.
but then bucky stands, and steve waits, and watches as bucky goes to his closet. whatever steve was expecting, it's not the pile of blankets and boxes that tumbles out.
a look that's half-confusion, half-concern pinches his brow. he sets his bottle on the floor in front of the couch, walks over to where bucky's standing, and looks more closely at the pile. the pieces start slotting into place. and it's a kind of relief, to know he wasn't imagining bugaboos. there really are monsters in the closet, and bucky's finally sharing them with steve. )
Let me guess—bed's too soft?
( he looks at bucky with a gentle kind of understanding. )
( his expression falls a little when bucky looks away, weighted down by sadness for his friend. he wishes he could wave his hand and make things better, but these aren't the kind of demons you can punch to make them go away.
he nods, pulling his face together to hide his deeper feelings. the sadness, the concern. the guilt. things bucky doesn't need to see. )
I know what you mean. It took me a while before I had a good night's sleep on an actual mattress. And even when I do get comfortable, sleep doesn't usually come easy. ( he pauses, then admits, ) It almost never comes easy.
I never really get a good night's sleep anymore. [ He says it with a shrug as he kneels down, starting to put stuff back in the closet. ] Good thing we don't need much of it anymore.
[ It's partially true for him, anyway. Part of him wonders if that's just a side effect of being on ice off and on for seventy years.
Bucky gestures at the boxes as he pushes them back into place. ]
( steve kneels down next to bucky, picks up a blanket, and starts folding it. he knows it'll probably just get pulled out and spread on the floor once he's gone, but if there's one thing the military taught him, it's the importance of keeping a tidy bunk. some habits are hard to shake. )
Maybe not. ( he smooths out a wrinkle in the blanket. ) I don't know. I never tried it. I probably should've, but...
( something more important was always happening.
he weighs his next words, and after a moment, he says, ) Even when I do sleep—I have nightmares, you know? Of the war, the alien invasions—Thanos, and the Snap...
( watching bucky turn to dust over and over again. )
[ When he mentions the Snap, Bucky reaches over to put his right hand on Steve's wrist. It's meant to be reassuring; whether it's to himself or Steve, he's not quite sure. Maybe both.
He pulls back after a moment, shaking his head. ]
. . . Yeah. We're both gonna need a couple lifetime's worth of therapy at this point.
[ He lets out a soft chuckle at that. Because it's funny, really. If it's funny, then it's not completely traumatic.
( he looks at bucky's hand on his wrist, and a smile touches his lips. it is reassuring. the warmth of his fingers, the roughness of his palm. proof that bucky's alive. whether or not he's well is still up for debate, but steve will settle for alive. )
Yeah. I should probably look into that.
( the way he says it hints that he's probably not going to, but...maybe. he sets the blanket aside and turns one of the boxes towards him to read the label. )
You know, these probably work better as furniture when they're outside of the box.
[ He knows Steve isn't actually going to look into it, but he's the last person in the world to get on him about it. Not when he's blowing off every single therapy exercise he's given. Maybe he should try giving it a fair shake . . . eventually.
Maybe.
Bucky grimaces when Steve makes note of the boxes — or rather, the fact that they're unopened boxes. ]
Yeah, well, you know. [ He gestures vaguely, like he's not about to pull an excuse out of his ass. ] Have you ever tried putting one of those things together? It's like they make it difficult so you pay through the nose to have 'em assemble it for you.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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steve raises an eyebrow, and the corner of his mouth slides into a half-smile. )
Is that how you really feel about it? Because a second ago you seemed dead set against it.
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Okay, well, my therapist would say as much. Now, me? Eh. But you, you should be getting out there and making those deeper connections.
[ He takes some popcorn, tossing a piece into his mouth. ]
But hey, if you want to spend time with your good old pal here, you won't hear me complaining.
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Eh. ( he shrugs, smiles, tips his bottle back against his lips. ) I've got all the deeper connections I need.
( or maybe it's just that, with bucky back, he's more interested in reestablishing their connection than making new ones. is it healthy? steve wouldn't want to hear what bucky's therapist might have to say about it.
but, bucky mentioning his therapist again brings steve back to their conversation in the kitchen. maybe he shouldn't keep touching that nerve, but something's still not sitting right with him. so, he steels himself, and says, )
You know, if you don't like your therapist and wanted a new one, I could probably make some inquiries, or... ( he shrugs again, smaller this time. ) Something.
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That smile fades away as Steve brushes up against the therapy topic once more. Bucky's mouth tightens briefly before he forces out a huffy little laugh. ]
Yeah, you know? I get the feeling that's not gonna help much. [ He shrugs. ] It's not really my thing.
[ No shit it's not your thing, Barnes. He's already mentally kicking himself for that lame excuse, but what else can he do? Say it's not helping him and the nightmares are still haunting him regularly and oh, by the way, they're basically sitting right where he sleeps and isn't that just the saddest goddamn thing you've ever heard?
Christ.
He knocks his drink back. ]
Nice of you to offer, though. [ It's an afterthought, but he means it. Really. ]
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he can hear what bucky's not saying. glimpse the truth behind his excuse. and it only makes him worry more. but he just nods, rolling his bottle slowly between his palms. )
You never know, a new person might make all the difference. Sam— ( he tries to tread lightly here, ) he's great at this kind of stuff. I've heard him speak down at the VA.
slowly crawls back from moving hell.
[ It's true, even if it's also the last thing he wants.
Bucky sighs, lowering his drink. ]
You're dancing around something, aren't you. [ It's a plain statement, one he didn't want to make. Maybe they could ignore it, maybe they could just watch the stupid movie and eat their dumb, greasy popcorn.
Nah, who was he kidding. Steve could be just as stubborn as him. Always has been, always will be. This was inevitable. ] Just spit it out. I won't bite your head off. [ a beat. ] Probably.
[ After all the shit he's put him through, Bucky owes him at least that much. ]
welcome back!
steve picks at the label on his bottle for a moment before responding. )
I just want you to be honest with me and...to be able to tell me if—if you're not doing okay. ( before bucky can respond, he barrels on. ) I promise I won't try to fix it, or do anything you don't want me to do, but...
( he sighs. )
I miss you, Buck.
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Bucky stares over at him for a moment, quiet, before he dips his head a bit. ]
I'm right here, Steve. Nothing to miss.
[ He spreads his arms at that before letting them flop down uselessly. He's a little older and a lot more rough around the edges, but he's here and he's himself, for better or for worse. ]
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it's hard to describe the sensation of missing someone who's sitting right next to him. he misses when things were easier, when they told each other everything, when he didn't have to wonder about what was going on in bucky's head. when he didn't have to worry that bucky might disappear again. but it's not fair of him to put his expectations and his anxieties on bucky. so he keeps those thoughts to himself. he won't push bucky to share anything before he's ready. he might never be ready, and steve has to be okay with that, too.
he smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. ) I know. It's just...hard to believe sometimes, you know? I lost you so many times, and each time, I thought it was for good... I keep thinking I'll turn around and you'll be gone again.
( like trying to hold onto smoke. )
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Bucky looks down at his hands, chewing at his lip. It would be easy — so easy — to double down on everything. He's fine, isn't he? He's right here, and he's real, right? No Thanos, no Zola, no one left to rip him away. But it's not that easy, is it?
It takes him a long moment, but he stands up wordlessly, dusting himself off, and walks across the room, over to his hall closet. Fortunately for him, it's still within eyesight of the couch — which is good, considering what he's about to do.
Bucky rests his hand on the doorknob, taking in a deep breath, and yanks it open. A pile of blankets come tumbling out, along with a few IKEA boxes for furniture he hasn't even bothered to assemble.
He looks down at the mess on the floor for a moment, then turns back and stares at Steve, trying to meet him straight in the eye. ]
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but then bucky stands, and steve waits, and watches as bucky goes to his closet. whatever steve was expecting, it's not the pile of blankets and boxes that tumbles out.
a look that's half-confusion, half-concern pinches his brow. he sets his bottle on the floor in front of the couch, walks over to where bucky's standing, and looks more closely at the pile. the pieces start slotting into place. and it's a kind of relief, to know he wasn't imagining bugaboos. there really are monsters in the closet, and bucky's finally sharing them with steve. )
Let me guess—bed's too soft?
( he looks at bucky with a gentle kind of understanding. )
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He sucks in a bit of air. ]
Yeah. [ a beat. ] Can't even sleep on the damn couch.
[ The bed's too soft for a number of reasons. He doesn't belong there. He doesn't belong here, even though he desperately wants to.
Bucky nudges at a box with his foot. ]
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he nods, pulling his face together to hide his deeper feelings. the sadness, the concern. the guilt. things bucky doesn't need to see. )
I know what you mean. It took me a while before I had a good night's sleep on an actual mattress. And even when I do get comfortable, sleep doesn't usually come easy. ( he pauses, then admits, ) It almost never comes easy.
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[ It's partially true for him, anyway. Part of him wonders if that's just a side effect of being on ice off and on for seventy years.
Bucky gestures at the boxes as he pushes them back into place. ]
Pretty sure therapy's not gonna fix this, anyway.
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Maybe not. ( he smooths out a wrinkle in the blanket. ) I don't know. I never tried it. I probably should've, but...
( something more important was always happening.
he weighs his next words, and after a moment, he says, ) Even when I do sleep—I have nightmares, you know? Of the war, the alien invasions—Thanos, and the Snap...
( watching bucky turn to dust over and over again. )
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He pulls back after a moment, shaking his head. ]
. . . Yeah. We're both gonna need a couple lifetime's worth of therapy at this point.
[ He lets out a soft chuckle at that. Because it's funny, really. If it's funny, then it's not completely traumatic.
Probably. ]
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Yeah. I should probably look into that.
( the way he says it hints that he's probably not going to, but...maybe. he sets the blanket aside and turns one of the boxes towards him to read the label. )
You know, these probably work better as furniture when they're outside of the box.
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Maybe.
Bucky grimaces when Steve makes note of the boxes — or rather, the fact that they're unopened boxes. ]
Yeah, well, you know. [ He gestures vaguely, like he's not about to pull an excuse out of his ass. ] Have you ever tried putting one of those things together? It's like they make it difficult so you pay through the nose to have 'em assemble it for you.
[ excuse: pulled. ]