driftfleet | ★ 1 | ACTION ★

Entry tags:

★ 1 | ACTION ★

Who: Bucky!Cap Barnes
Action: Throughout the Marsiva holding area
When: Feb 15-17-ish

[Bucky is new. He's new, and confused, and he figures the best way to get answers is to go find them. For better or worse, there's not a whole lot of space in which to find them, since he's limited to the same holding area as the rest of the passengers, but on the plus side, given that everyone else is confined to the same area, he's more likely to run into said passengers. When he spots someone who looks like they might be amenable to talking, he's very likely to approach.

For the most part, the faces are not familiar; he wanders the living area and the kitchen (where he's likely to stop and get some coffee, thank God that seems to exist here). He pokes his head into the bathroom and gym, too, and of course actually makes use of the former to take a shower on a regular basis. The gym he doesn't so much use as inspect and note; he's still too wary of where he is for anything resembling recreation, and thanks to the serum, he doesn't actually need to do much in the way of regular training to keep himself up. Maybe later.

Mostly, what will strike people is the fact that his face looks like the Bucky Barnes already on board, if you've managed to get a good look at that, but his hair is cropped short and his face is clean-shaven and his left arm is definitely not metal. All he's got to wear is the dark blue STRIKE uniform (sans helmet and shield) that looks - to some people, probably - like it should belong on Steve Rogers instead.]

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Bucky was not, in fact, expecting that move - you little shit.

Except he's grinning, because, "Huh. Not bad." Because that is exactly Steve's strength - doing the unexpected. Treating his body like it's a completely different one. And damn, if Bucky should've known. He'll remember it next time.

Right now, there's something about the flash of Steve's eyes that has him tossing out the possibility of saying uncle. Like hell is he just rolling over - literally, apparently - and giving up. So he just hums, makes like he's going to make some remark - and jerks upward, smacking his forehead into Steve's nose.

If he does this right, it's probably gonna bleed. A lot. Might even break.

He probably shouldn't be as okay with either of those ideas as he is, but Steve's built like a tank, and Bucky knows he takes advantage of it. So Bucky is gonna take advantage of it, too. With Steve, it's all or nothing, and he is definitely not bringing nothing to the table, here.

"Argh!" Steve fell back with the headbutt because, fucking ow, that broke his nose for sure. He raised his hand up and pulled back blood, streaming from the wound like he was a kid again. God, how many times had his nose broken? They were sure it would be crooked like a boxer. His ma had even rebroken it once to make sure it wouldn't. Even this is familiar to him. And even through the pain and the reflexive tears a broken nose brings to the eyes, Steve is smiling and laughing.

"You're such a jerk!" But it's said with such obvious warmth that it's clear he's holding no hostility. Besides, it will be healed within an hour, maybe two tops. And he got it from his friend in an honest to god sparring match. Strangely enough, nothing could be better.

He pinches the bridge and tilts his head up just like every wrong mother in the 20's advised their kids to do. The blood runs down his throat just like he remembers. He's not felt this young in fucking years. It makes him feel like he can take on anything, all over again, all with a garbage can lid as his shield.

"You are such a jerk, Buck. Broke my nose."

Bucky would feel bad - maybe he does, just a little - but it's actually kind of hard when Steve looks like this is the best thing that's happened to him all day. He probably thinks so.

So Bucky figures he's allowed to feel just a little smug, for having gotten the drop on Steve, even as he sits up and reaches around with careful fingers, this time and, touching the back of the top of Steve's head, gently tips it forward. "Yeah, because you left yourself wide open for it. You're supposed to tilt your head forward, idiot."

Never let it be said that he's not a gracious winner. Or that he didn't take about six SHIELD first aid classes when he was bored (and having trouble sleeping, but that made him bored), last year.

"Stay here, lemme get something to clean up the mess," he says, and there's a grin beneath his voice (and on his face), before he disappears to find a towel or something, be it in the corner of the gym, the kitchen, or the bathrooms. He's back soon enough, squatting down and offering the towel out, not even sure if Steve might've stopped bleeding already, but there'll still be plenty of blood to clean up. "Just like old times," he murmurs - although admittedly, Bucky wasn't the one breaking Steve's nose back then. If he'd even wanted to, he would've had to get in line.

Steve spends the time Bucky's gone mostly just waving off anyone's concern and making sure his nose stops bleeding like it's supposed to. It's the first real injury he's gotten since coming here so there was nothing else to prove he'd still have the same healing ability. Well, except for the time he punched his wall. But that didn't really count.

Luckily it's mostly done by the time Bucky is back with the towel but there's still blood all over his hands and face. Steve dabs at it carefully, his nose still tender but already feeling a little bit better than before. Thank God for Erskine. He looks up at Bucky around the fabric and rolls his eyes.

"In the old times you complained a heck of a lot more about my broken noses," he points out. "And ma woulda boxed your ears if you'd have done it to me. Right after she let your ma atcha." He hasn't thought about Mrs. Barnes for awhile, actually. She was gone by the time he'd been unfrozen and so had some of Bucky's sisters, too.

That thought pauses Steve for a moment because, in his timeline, that had been painful enough for him to learn. But in Bucky's? God. Steve can't even imagine. Slowly he reaches out, just in case he stirred up some memories and squeezes his friend's shoulder.

"Serum or no serum she woulda had you back in your room nursing a sore head."

There is definitely something in Bucky that relaxes, once he sees that Steve's nose really has stopped bleeding, for the most part. He snorts at the comeback, but it's pretty much true - all of it, including the bit about Steve's ma, and his own.

Maybe his smile goes a little tighter, but it's practically imperceptible. If there's one thing he regrets, really, it's that his mother went to her grave thinking she'd outlived her son. And that he's got younger sisters who did the same, when he should have gone first. Gone for real, not just spent the decades as a popsicle in a downed plane.

But then Steve's squeezing his shoulder, and Bucky huffs a little; he knows Steve's just teasing, and it's fine. "In the old times, I'm not the one who gave 'em to you. Maybe I'm just proud of my handiwork."

But, "Yeah. They both would've." He grins a little. "Now it's you who gets the sore head - lucky, huh?" He reaches up, tilting Steve's head a bit. "We don't need to set it, do we?" It's probably a pretty clean break, but it's worth checking. "You'll just complain more if I've gotta break it twice."

"Do I sound like I'm complainin'?" Steve wrinkles his nose instinctively at the thought and winces hard as he irritates the fractured bone. But at least it moved. That was a good sign that it was probably already starting to mend up. He'd probably be all set again before he laid down for bed. "You got a lucky shot, Buck. And that's not happening again."

He reaches out to punch at Bucky's shoulder, once again not light.and not hard but somewhere in between. Even with a broken nose he loves this rough-housing. The training he never got a chance to really do with his friend. And, even if this isn't really his friend, the differences are starting to blend out. Or maybe Steve just decided to stop paying attention to them.

He touches around his bridge and it's swollen but feels about normal. It should mend alright.

"Tell you what," Steve offers. "You need to break mine again and I'll break yours. In solidarity. That's what friends are for, right?"

"You always sound like you're complaining," Bucky points out -- totally straight-faced, but he's definitely spouting shit. Though, "Of course I did," he adds, smugly. "And I'd better not get it again - you're supposed to learn."

He's grinning, though - Steve looks fine, even if his face is a little swollen and bruised; Bucky knows it'll go down quickly, and it's certainly not a look he hasn't seen on Steve before. And when Steve punches him in the shoulder, there's still plenty of force behind it - which tells Bucky he's just fine.

So does the "offer," such as it is - which makes Bucky snort. "I don't think that's actually what friends are for, pal," he says, the corner of his mouth ticking up because he just can't seem to keep a straight face. It's pretty awful. (It's not awful at all.) "Come on. You got something clean to wear in your room, or are we gonna have to wash your shirt out in the sink?"

Bucky's clothes also have some amount of blood on them, which he's gonna have to clean up at some point, too.

Steve looks down at his shirt and. Yeah. Okay, it's a mess. He groans a little but shakes his head and waves Bucky forward. "C'mon. My room has a change." It's not glamorous, just some grey shirts he found around that were about his size. That means they'll be just a little big on Bucky but at least they're not splattered with blood. That's an improvement.

Steve leaves the gym and gets a look at himself in one of the shiny windows. The bruises are livid now which means they'll be yellowing and fading sooner than not. His nose is puffy and the blood around it either smeared or dried. Steve pauses to gingerly clean it up just a little more.

When he wrinkles his nose again, the pain is less. He'll be fine soon.

"So," he starts companionably. "How's Calibrations treating you? Or am I the only lucky one that got you messing around in their head?" Steve's been in so many, by now. Too many. He'd love to just rest and sleep it off but he knows what falling asleep means. He'd rather struggle through as long as he can. Not that he could stop it if be wanted to.

God, he hates feeling helpless.

"And what about you? Anyone poking around upstairs? I expect there's a lot of room for them to spread out."

Bucky just nods, happy to fall into step behind Steve. He does not have an overabundance of spare clothes, himself, so he'll take what he can get.

Even if it's weird, these days - after Rebirth - to be able to share clothes with Steve, and have Steve's be the clothes that are too big. (Fortunately, only by a little.)

Bucky makes a soft noise as he follows in his friend's footsteps. "So far, just you," he says - almost thoughtfully, before he shoves at Steve's right shoulder from behind. "Excuse you, my brain is full of - stuff," he says, maybe with a little bit of a laugh at the end. "More'n yours. But no, I don't think so. I'd remember it, right?" Steve remembers Bucky being in his, and Bucky remembers being there, too... He definitely remembers it, and the weirdly invasive, intimate feeling it's left him with. He spend most of his adult life living in Steve's pocket, and vice versa. But sharing space is different than sharing thoughts and memories. You can choose what you say to someone. This was... different.

"How long has it been going on?"

Steve turns and cuffs Bucky on the back of the head, lightly. No need for them both to need ice. "I dunno if you remember all of it. I remember most of what I've seen. I've been in Hux's room, Thor's, Loki's, Vision's..." He looks down, remembering in a rush, all of what he's seen weighing on his head. It was private things. Things that he was sure these people wouldn't have shared if they didn't have to. Steve hates feeling like he violated them but he really had no other choices.

"It's been going on for weeks." He wrinkles his nose a little more and the pain is more of an ache than a stab. The bone probably healed enough to no longer be in pieces. Good progress. He reaches his room and it's not glamorous nor especially big but it's private. Steve peels his shirt off and tosses it onto the floor before going to grab two from the small bag he'd woken up with. One gets tossed to Bucky.

"I barely had a chance to get settled before I ended up back here, looking in on people's memories. It's...messed up. Real messed up, Buck. All in the name of entertainment." He yanks his shirt on, scowling. "All we need now are the dancing girls."

"I guess I don't know if I remember it all, either," Bucky has to admit. "But I think I do." Then again, it's sort of like remembering a dream - a little removed from real life, but still vivid.

He shakes his head, blowing out a breath, definitely looking less than happy. "So - yeah, you think it's for the ratings, too?" Honestly, that would make sense. People getting a look at what others don't want them to see has got to be entertaining to someone out there, if the reality TV he's stumbled upon is any indication. Frankly, thinking of things here in those terms, rather than just a bunch of captives, seems to make the place at least more navigable, if not a little more understandable.

He keeps quiet - aside from one more (playful) smack on Steve's arm for tagging him on the head - and accepts the shirt Steve tosses at him with a grateful noise, peeling off his own to change. He maybe takes the opportunity to try and get a look at Steve, but... he looks just like you'd expect - like a super soldier, nothing wrong with him. Healthy and uninjured, except for his face.

At least that's a relief. Bucky's spent so much of his life worrying about Steve. It's good to know the serum really does seem to be doing what it's supposed to be doing for his friend.

Bucky does let out a sound that's between a laugh and a scoff, though, at that. "I feel like you maybe wanna be careful what you wish for around here, pal. Besides, this is different. Nobody signed up for this." It's maybe a gentle - gentle - jab at Steve's stint as a dancing monkey, because Steve had told him the story, and Bucky knew that Steve hadn't really signed up for that, specifically, either. In a way, he'd never been surprised. Steve would have signed anything without looking, if it had gotten him into the Army, and they both knew it. "Honestly... you're maybe the fleetwide expert at this stuff. Any tips?" Now he's teasing.

If Steve notices the look he doesn't comment on it. He's used to these quick gazes. Bucky was always the one looking after him and then pretending desperately that he wasn't. It's easy to fall back into the knowing eye-rolls and fond annoyance that marked so much of their lives. Steve can almost pretend like nothings even changed. But then again, they're in a spaceship God knew where and everything has changed since those days. If Loki were here he'd be scolding Steve for holding onto his past so tight.

But he wasn't. So...

He barks a laugh at that tease but that doesn't stop him from reaching down to find one of his extra shoes and throwing it at Bucky's stomach. The laughing hurts his nose but much less than before. He has no idea how it might look but he can feel that the bone is set and the fractures mended over. That was the biggest hurdle so he'd probably be back to normal soon enough. Until the next injury they caused each other.

"I am not giving them any of the tips I learned. If I'm the expert I want all those ratings for myself, pal. I hear that's how you get food other than gel to eat. Might even get something big and heavy to bang you over the head with. Think of all the ratings for that!"

He walks closer to Bucky but pauses by his bed, perching on the edge of it to smirk up at the other man.

"And I'll remind you that I signed up to fight. You're just jealous about the rest since you didn't have a troop of USO girls around you all the time."

Bucky could've caught the shoe, honestly - but Steve probably deserves to get the hit in, after his nose, so he just takes it with a snort of laughter. Even if Steve's looking better - his nose is still bruised but the swelling's slowly going down. Bucky's a little jealous - he heals fast, sure. But not that fast. Thanks, knockoff serum.

Then again, it had always meant he could get drunk easier than Steve. There had been benefits, even if they were expensive ones.

"Sure, it's all for the long game." Does he sound disbelieving? Maybe because he sure as shit is. "I mean, you are the star-spangled man with a plan."

Bucky just sighs, looking at his - not his, he's got to remember this - best friend, smirking up at him like the intervening seventy years never passed. It hurts, how familiar it is. How good it feels. How much he wants things to stay like this, even though the rest of the situation is shit. Maybe he gets how Steve must have felt, during the war, leading the Commandos to fight and finally being able to do everything he'd ever dreamed of, and more. Suddenly, Bucky really does think he gets it.

"Well, I sure wouldn'tve argued against a troop of USO girls. They wouldn'tve lasted ten seconds in the mud, though," he says, elbowing Steve in the ribs. "I'm still surprised they didn't eat you alive. Or did they?"

Now he's just trying to make Steve blush. It's a sport he enjoys, what can he say.

Bucky gets his wish as Steve turns a nice, brilliant red at that. He leans forward and smacks Bucky's arm. "Don't be lewd," he says in what he hopes is his mother's tone. "I respected those dames. Besides, you think the guys were the only ones enjoying the international flavors?"

It's not entirely true. Steve had been hit on almost constantly as they all took their turn trying to seduce Captain America. At the time his mind had been stuck on Peggy, though. He wouldn't have noticed if the girls flashed him (and some had). But that's all history. He'd been a gentleman.

Mostly.

"A few did grab and kiss me. Peg actually walked in on one SHIELD agent who'd thought that was a good idea. Then she shot at me so. Yeah, didn't do that again."

Steve leans back, remembering that day and how enormous the mistakes he'd made with Peggy had felt. He'd had no idea just how much bigger those things were going to get. He sighs but it's fond.

"It was an interesting time. Wish you'd been there with me. Thought about you all the time. How you were fighting and I was dancing around on a stage... Interesting time but I'm glad it came to an end when it did."

Bucky's smug grin suggests he is absolutely thinking lewd thoughts, but that's largely because he just doesn't have any facts, Steve. He'd known his best friend hadn't really wanted to talk about it, known it had embarrassed him, and frankly, Bucky hadn't always felt as up to razzing him as he might otherwise have been - especially right after Azzano. So maybe he's just got to get a little bit of that in, now, and enjoy it while he can.

Which he most certainly does, when Steve says Peggy shot at him. Color him zero percent surprised. "Makes me wonder what she did to the game who kissed you," Bucky chuckles softly, watching Steve for a moment with a soft look in his eyes, most of that smirk gone - replaced by something softer, almost wistful. He'd seen how Steve and Peggy had gotten along like a house on fire. He'd maybe fantasized, a little, about how Steve was gonna somehow, someday manage to sweep Peggy off her feet (or, honestly, maybe the other way around) and marry her and get what he so richly, truly deserved. It had added insult to injury when Peggy had been the one who tried to console him after Steve's death. He hadn't been able to get drunk enough, and all he could do for her was sit there while she tried, with only slightly better success. There was no drunk enough for losing Steve Rogers.

But he's not lost, anymore - he's right here (and, Bucky's gut twists, maybe in captivity back home, shit, shit) and Bucky sobers a little, but that fond look doesn't go anywhere. "Yeah," he says, for a moment, before he adds, quietly, "I'm glad it did when it did, too."

He'd be six feet under, or worse, if Steve hadn't shown up. He knows it. He'd known it from day one.

He shakes himself out of it a little, and pokes Steve on the bicep. "Instead, we got whatever this interesting time is, huh? God, a guy could kind of wish for a boring fucking life."

Steve takes the poke and grins at his friend, every inch the teenager he'd once been. "Boring? Hell no, Buck. You know what I'd get up to when I'm bored." And boy would he. Some of the worst punishments they'd had was when Steve got bored and started thinking of things to do. You'd imagine an asthmatic would stick close to home or at the very least have minimally physical plans. But that just wasn't Steve Rogers. He'd gotten bored and broken into a gangster's speakeasy, snuck into the school to get back at a bully, started a fight four people deep, and crashed one of Bucky's dates with a dislocated arm and no explanation for how it happened. Normal Steve things.

Bored Steve was A Problem.

"I get what you're saying though," because he did. He wants it too. Maybe not a boring life but a steady one. Something he could come home to and take for granted. A house and a fence. Maybe a spouse, if someone was lucky. But that was asking for a lot. "It would be interesting if either of us gets it."

He can imagine Bucky settled. He always could, after all. He was popular and attractive and worked hard to make a better life for himself. If anything, his one real flaw was the small guy hanging on his back, not that he ever saw it that way, much to Steve's benefit.

"I hope you do," he says honestly. "I hope you get to go home and have some sort of break in all this so you can live. One of us should."

"Aw, fuck - maybe I'd been trying to forget," Bucky points out, but - it's just one more box checked off bringing this Steve closer to the one Bucky knew. Knows. Shit. But he definitely remembers Steve getting into more than a little trouble, all in the name of being bored.

But yeah, maybe boring isn't the word he'd been looking for. His lips tick up into a smile that's a little nostalgic, and a little bittersweet. "Maybe," he says, and that's all he says, for a moment, but - "I hope you do, too, Steve. Fucking both of us should. You think I'd be happy if I got something and you didn't? Any version of me?" Because maybe the other him, the one that's avoiding Steve, might be avoiding him. But if there's any sliver of Bucky left inside him... he'll have wanted that for Steve. He'll still want that for Steve.

Suddenly, Bucky wonders if maybe it's not part of the reason the guy is avoiding Steve, in the first place. It hits him like a slap in the face, but - he has to file it away. Steve's not the person to ask.

"I don't know that you know how to settle down, though," he says, and this time, he's teasing again. "And is Brooklyn as fucking expensive for you as it is for me?"

Steve watches Bucky warmly as he talks. He'd told himself the same thing after Bucky fell; that he would want Steve to be happy and to have a good life, even without him. It's soothing now to have that be right. To have known Bucky a well as he had thought he did. Steve nudges him and is about to say something, but then he comments on the prices and,

"Oh my God, isn't it insane?!"

Steve has been screaming about it for pretty much the entire time he's been unfrozen and his friends understand it academically but never seem to get the way his whole body recoils from a hot dog that costs $2.95. Or a soda in a zoo costing $3.00 and a candy bar nearing $4 at the grocery market. Years later he still can't understand how people afford anything. Even with more money in a paycheck it all seems to slip away with a few dinners that can come out at $50+ just for an entree and a drink.

"I asked for a coffee and it was $5! Do you remember all the things we could buy for $5? People leave their change on the floor when they drop it. You can't even use pennies at all! Nothing at all!"

"It's a crime against nature," Bucky agrees, unable to keep from laughing because it's ridiculous, suddenly - just realizing that here the two of them are, from different goddamn universes but sitting here together on a fucking spaceship, and... it's Steve. It's Steve, and he understands Bucky in a way no one else at home really does, and... it's awful and it feels so good at the same time.

He wonders if he's ever going to get over it. He might even be okay if he doesn't.

He chuckles when Steve goes on, but honestly, only because it's true. "I got one of those member cards you can use, and it just reloads when the balance gets low," he admits. "That way I don't have to even look at how much my goddamn coffee is costing me."

He blows out a breath, then, because, "I got backpay, once they found me. I don't think it was nearly what they actually owed me, but... it's still more than I know what to do with. I donated a whole bunch of it. It's not like SHIELD doesn't pay me some stupid amount I can't even look at, either." He shrugs. "People keep telling me it's just numbers, but... goddamn they're big ones."

Edited 2019-03-03 21:55 (UTC)

Steve could talk about this all day. He barks out a laugh and slaps a hand on Bucky's shoulder to shake him. "Right?! I saw my bank account once they told me that the money had transferred and I thought that they'd made some sort of mistake! They tried to explain interest and backpay and cost of living increases... And yeah, things cost more now, but Christ!" This was another thing no one else really understood. Steve leans into Bucky as he laughs at the absurdity of it all. Especially the two of them now sitting here and complaining about this of all things.

"Did you ever think we'd be talking about having too much money? You and me?" His laughing turns into the warm chuckles of remembrance. "It feels like yesterday that you and I would need to share a beer just so we could get drinks for our dates. Or the months of finding new ways of cooking corned beef and cabbage. I can't believe people think that's Irish food; it was just dirt poor food..."

He looks over at Bucky and shakes his head. "Everything is the same and so different at the same time... It's crazy."

"I mean, I understand interest and inflation, but..." Bucky just shakes his head. It's one thing to think about a couple years of it. But seventy years of it tends to explode in your face, even when you're used to weird shit like guys with red skulls for faces.

And speaking of weird shit - Steve's right. Complaining about too much money definitely tops the list. "About as much as I ever thought about turning ninety-seven," he admits, because Steve will understand just how fucked up that sounds - and how true it is. "Ugh, and you had it easy, you know - that shitty sense of smell and taste of yours probably made the stuff taste only half as bad." He knocks Steve's hand away with his shoulder, but he's grinning, just looking for ways to get their casual, easy way back into his body language. It's easy - so easy - just to fall back into the habit, like he never had to stop. God.

"I have had little kids ask me what it was like before electricity," Bucky says, both bemusement and horror under his voice. "But you know... the things that did actually change? Some of 'em are for the better, at least." He's sure Steve knows what he means: an end to segregation. Women in the military. Vaccines for polio and a crapton of other stuff. Ashma inhalers.

Not that Steve needs 'em, but every time Bucky sees a kid managing with something Steve had... it sets off something bitingly bittersweet inside him.

"We have to face it, pal. We're old."

But Bucky is right. There's so much in this time that's better. Not everything but the line of progress is pointing up. People are less sick, less ostracized, less endangered than they had been before. Steve remembers how it used to be. Anyone different could count on being teased and cast out. Now people held hands with their loves out in the open. Held the kids proudly despite how they'd come around or how they were.

Steve likes it. Even if he does still get baffled at the culture shock of it all.

His eyes are soft and warm as they look at Bucky. The air between them is warm. Smells like it had, before. The two of them together against the rest of the world, bloody noses and all.

"But at least I have this grumpy old man to complain with."

Bucky's sigh is put-upon and definitely overly dramatic. "I guess we are," he points out, but there's laughter just under his voice. They are, and sometimes it's too weird to think about, but right now, it's just damn nice to have someone who understands. He'd never thought he'd know what it's like.

But Steve does, as weird and mixed up and strange and unfair as the whole situation may be. Steve understands, and there's really no one else that Bucky would want to understand him, for better or for worse.

He snorts, knocks Steve's shoulder with his own, and says, "You'd better respect your elders, kid."

Then he flashes a grin, and tilts his head toward the door. "Come on. Someone showed me how to make coffee, or something that passes close enough for it. Let's grab some."

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