gotta get down for a mingle

[redactions]

Who: The crew of the SS Heron and visitors.
Broadcast: nope.
Action: Aboard the SS Heron.
When: After returning to the ship.

[ finally back on the right ship, except the corridors are all mysteriously cold and the ship seems smaller. Thanks, Atroma. New crew, visitors, starters in comments ]

Comments

[enshields]

[His breath catches. Softly,]

I remember.

[redactions]

[ A smile catches at the corner of Jim's mouth. ]

Yeah. I got it. Sam has one matching. I'm saving up my leave so we can go on a road trip. 'Course, it might be sooner than we think.

[enshields]

Mine's black.

[Just black. He couldn't bring himself to buy one with a red racing stripe along the side, it was too much like saying goodbye to a childhood dream.]

You've known him longer than I have. Sam.

[He loves the man, Sam has saved him from himself in so many awful ways, but while they're good friends he can't imagine owning matching motorcycles.]

[redactions]

[ Jim hmms softly. He can't imagine not getting the same motorcycle — too much like forgetting the past. He could never let go of Steve. ]

Yeah. Around the same time I started working for SHIELD proper. Maybe... three? Four months after the Chitauri invasion.

[ Soft, ] He's a good man. I don't know where I'd be without him.

[enshields]

[He's not sure he wants to be discussing this in front of the Winter Soldier. The last thing he wants him to think is that he'd somehow been replaced, that Steve had moved on. He hadn't. Couldn't. But Sam's been a good friend to him.]

Two years. For me. After everything.

[redactions]

[ Two years is a long time to just be texting, to be making a list of what's on Netflix and going through the motions of being in the brave new world. Jim leans back, against Winter, and meets his eyes briefly. They rarely betray anything; the Soldier possesses an intensity Jim only has sometimes, and never for very long. Right now they're an anchor. There's an avalanche swallowing him and Steve. ]

[ Quietly, ]

And Nat?

[enshields]

[He doesn't like where this conversation is going, his look turns knowing.]

The same.

[redactions]

[ Jim meets it, unflinching. There's a Hell here for all of them of different designs, the emptiness that exists in all of them, and some part of him wonders how he ever could've thought Steve didn't need him. Steve who not minutes ago held Jim like he was desperate not to let go, or thought he might wake up. ]

[ He hopes the man next to him who's quietly eating his dinner has come to the same conclusion: you were missed. He half-turns, to look at Winter. Redirecting, for now. ]

You're gonna love 'em. [ a beat ] Maybe not the jogging. I hate jogging.

[reconstitution]

[ He meets Jim's gaze and nods his head in understanding. He doesn't feel that he's been discarded so much as left behind. There are things that he's missed by being with HYDRA through no fault of his own.

Being in this place is putting those things on hold, but it'll give him a shot at being as close to normal as he can probably get before things turn pear-shaped again.

He shrugs a shoulder, fingers laced on the table where he's pushed his plate away. ]

I don't mind running.

[redactions]

Not the same as liking it, pal.

[ He just prods at the Soldier, affectionately. ]

Obviously we gotta try it before you decide, but just so you know, I need to be bribed first. Pancakes are a start.

[reconstitution]

[ He raises an eyebrow. ]

That's a terrible bribe. You're going to get a stitch when you run.

[redactions]

I didn't say it had to be before -- it was for that week a'running.

[reconstitution]

Oh. Alright.

[redactions]

C'mon. Let's play a game. Friendly wager? You, me'n Steve, hey, what do you say, pal? A little race?

[reconstitution]

Do you wish to lose that badly?

[redactions]

We're technically the same person, so I'd be winning...

[ He grins brightly. ]

[reconstitution]

[ He very gently nudges Jim's side with an elbow. ]

<< Cheater. >>

[redactions]

[ Elbows him gently back, then wraps an arm around his shoulders and ruffles his hair, ]

Still winning.

[reconstitution]

[ He grumbles quietly, but they both know he doesn't mean it. Winter briefly leans into the embrace before straightening again, remembering they have company. ]

Can't argue with the Captain.

[redactions]

[ The corner of his mouth twitches, and he nods at Steve. ]

What do you say, huh?

[enshields]

[It's a little like watching a snake-charmed, and Steve has yet to decide how deeply unsettling he finds it. Part of him is willing to admit it's necessary, lancing an infection, but the other--

He draws a bit of a breath, smooths his hand across the small corner of table he's claimed as his own.]

I'm game.

[He's not. He's really not, but the memory of the hope in James' face and in his voice aren't lost on him. Steve's never backed down from anything in his life, even (especially) when he knew better.]

I'll even make the pancakes myself.

[reconstitution]

[ He leans forward slightly to see Steve past Jim, appraising him. Not sure what to make of his expression, Winter nods looks away, brow furrowed. He tries to feel some sort of connection to him, but it's just not coming the way he wants it to.

Not quite like the feeling he gets when he listens to Jim talk about Steve, anyway. There's just the man on the bridge and knowing that he knows him. He knows who he was and that they were friends, but this? This is frustrating. He still feels like a total stranger. Himself included. ]

It's for the best.

[redactions]

[ Jim is — trying not to look at him, looking at Steve, thankfully his expression is carefully schooled even. No hope, no expectation to put on the man's shoulders. If he remembers, well and good. If he doesn't, it's — it'll hurt, but wounds heal. ]

All right. You done with that?

[ He points to Winter's plate. ]

[reconstitution]

[ His attention snaps back to Jim's immediately, and he nods. He pulls the plate toward himself so he can throw the remains away and wash the utensils. ]

Yes s-- I am.

[ He's quick to correct himself, standing up and moving from the table. ]

[enshields]

[The creases deepen at the corners of his eyes at that abortive sir, and he studies the table very intently as the Soldier stands.

He doesn't know how Buck stood it, all those years. The helplessness. Watching, waiting. The Soldier's not in danger of drowning in the fluid in his lungs, he's not burning up with fever, there's no physical danger at all. But what's standing in for all those sleepless nights he could barely breathe is worse, and he's helpless.

He's spent time learning what he could, reading all the right books, speaking with former POWs and people who specialize in the therapy thereof. Coming up against the reality is-- it's different, harder, and the worst kind of failing.

He gives it a moment before he stands as well, deliberately letting his chair scrape across the floor paneling so it doesn't come as a surprise.]

We were-- [He stops. Clears his throat.] Going to make pie. Fresh one. Did you want to stick around for it?