[He murmurs, easy, easy as he wraps his arms around Bucky, his grip less crushing and more infinitely aware of his own strength, all the gentler for it. Losing Bucky was his ruin in so many awful ways. He's wondered more than once how differently that showdown with Schmidt would have gone down if he hadn't been dragged down by the awful clarity of grief. The War hadn't even afforded him time to mourn before it picked him up, dusted him off and sent him to die.
Steve's not stronger than Bucky, never has been. They just wear their strength in different ways, an unconquerable heart and an unbreakable soul, and Steve doesn't have to wonder what it cost Bucky to go on alone in the bleak ruin of the future Steve remembers waking up in.]
Your meatloaf smells horrible, pal.
[It's all the things he can't say, huffed out in a breath against Bucky's metal shoulder, hurting so much for a life unlived he wishes he were half so theatric as Peggy thinks he is just so's he could cry over it. Maybe it'd help.]
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Steve's not stronger than Bucky, never has been. They just wear their strength in different ways, an unconquerable heart and an unbreakable soul, and Steve doesn't have to wonder what it cost Bucky to go on alone in the bleak ruin of the future Steve remembers waking up in.]
Your meatloaf smells horrible, pal.
[It's all the things he can't say, huffed out in a breath against Bucky's metal shoulder, hurting so much for a life unlived he wishes he were half so theatric as Peggy thinks he is just so's he could cry over it. Maybe it'd help.]