The annoying thing about getting better, is that it doesn't happen all at once.
Asking the other Avengers to help look after Bucky had been an important step in Steve's own mental health, but it doesn't magically fix everything else.
Oh, it's a start. With his newfound free time, he's able to take on a project of his own, working furiously away during his downtime in hopes that he can get it finished by July. (He still has about a month to go, but he wants everything to be just right). But even with his gradual rediscovery of his personal interests Steve still has plenty of other issues to deal with.
His sleeping schedule for one. He at least makes an effort now, laying down to sleep every night, when before he sometimes wouldn't even bother. (Although he has to admit, that improvement mostly has to do with the fact that Bucky sleeps in the other room, and Steve is determined to set a good example, regardless of whether or not he actually sleeps after turning in for the night).
Most nights, he spends his time tossing and turning, waking up every once and a while from one nightmare or another. Some nights he entirely gives up on fighting with the too soft mattress and drags all his bedding on to the floor to sleep there. He tries not to do that too often though. His door is still left slightly open every night, and he's not sure how he'd explain himself if Bucky were ever to catch him sleeping on the floor.
It's after one particularly restless night that Steve finds himself training in the gym, despite the fact that it's Clint's turn to look after Bucky for a bit, and the two of them are congregated together at the other end of the gym, gearing up to practice their archery.
Both of them had looked a little confused when Steve had marched into the gym that morning, probably wondering if he needed something, since he was interrupting their session. He hadn't really been intending to interrupt them, his mind more focused on getting to the gym than on thinking about what was going to happen once he got there.
Clint and Bucky had seemed to shrug off his presence though, turning back to their own lessons after he gives them nothing but a nod and a wave before heading over to the punching bags.
As he wraps his hands in preparation for his upcoming round with the bags, Steve has to swallow back a small stab of guilt. He's self-aware enough now to recognise that he's turning to the bags as a way to avoid thinking about his difficulties sleeping, but at the moment he doesn't exactly feel like doing anything about it.
I can make sure I don't go too far, he thinks stubbornly as he lines up to take his first swing. It's not illegal to punch a punching bag, and anyways, just because I'm not going on any missions right now doesn't mean I shouldn't keep up my training.
Conscious fully placated, he gets to work on the punching bags.
He really does try to keep from zoning out and going too hard on the reinforced bags.
He does good for the first little bit, but constantly thinking about his performance only succeeds in making him more anxious and gives him an even stronger urge to just let loose on the bags. Eventually muscle memory kicks in and he sort of just… forgets to make sure to pace himself, and soon he's beating on the bags with the same ferocity as usual.
He's just stepping back from a long bout and winding up to take another swing when a sudden presence at his side makes him jolt back into awareness. His entire body flinches sideways as he whips around, only to come up short when he registers Bucky standing a few feet away from him, a plastic water bottle clasped tightly in his right hand.
Breathing heavily from his workout and slightly confused as to why Bucky is there, instead of over with Clint, Steve drags his hand across his brow and flicks his eyes over his friend. "Did you need something?" He asks as he catches his breath.
Bucky stands still for another moment before sweeping his right hand up and thrusting the water bottle in front of him like a shield. Steve's brow furls slightly before he wipes his mouth and reaches forward to accept the water bottle, his mind a little thrown by his friend's unexpected behaviour.
"It's important. To take breaks," Bucky says stiffly as Steve takes the bottle, his words stilted and pointed, as if he were reciting a passage from a book and wanted to make sure he got all the words right.
Steve's hand pauses with the water bottle halfway to his mouth and he scans his friend again, his mouth dropped open slightly in surprise.
In front of him, Bucky stares back, his shoulders tense and hunched slightly as if unsure of himself, but with eyes full of his familiar brand of determinedness, his chin jutting out stubbornly, as if daring Steve to challenge him on his assertion.
Steve swallows and nods a bit bewilderedly. "Yeah," he rasps before finally taking a drink from the water bottle. "You're right."
Bucky's shoulders relax and he gives a single satisfied nod before spinning on his heel and heading back to where Clint is standing next to an archery target and looking far too smug for his own good.
Steve takes another sip of water as he watches his friend go, a wave of baffled shock washing its way through his systems. His limbs are heavy and tired now that he's stopped long enough for them to start complaining, and he allows himself to shakily make his way over to a bench off to the side before sitting down heavily, the bottle of water still in his hand and a feeling of wonderment in his chest.
oOo
"I'm glad Bucky seems to be making some progress," Jason says in their next session. They're now several sessions in now, and Jason's hair is no longer in dreads like it had been when they first met, instead, it now sits loose on top of his head in a small afro. "I also think it admirable that you were able to recognise one of your unhealthy coping mechanisms in yourself," he continues, catching Steve's eye.
Steve shifts uncomfortably in his seat and drops his gaze. "I didn't actually stop doing it though," he protests, crossing his feet and staring at the pillow that he'd once again placed on the floor. "I decided that it would be fine because I thought I could keep it from going too far… but, I think I kind of knew that that wouldn't work out, I just didn't really care."
Jason points his pen at him. "That's also an important thing to recognise," he says, crossing his leg over his knee. "There's things we can do to try to manage our symptoms, but only if we acknowledge that they're actually there." He flashes Steve a smile. "Some days are better than others. Don't beat yourself up too much when you make a mistake."
He shrugs his shoulders and leans back slightly. "It's important to remember that the things that we do that may be unhealthy coping mechanisms are coping mechanisms nonetheless, things we developed when we found no other resources, and we're bound to fall back on them as we slowly learn better coping mechanisms and work on dealing with some of the underlying causes for our symptoms."
Jason lets him chew on that for a moment before clicking his pen once and looking down at his pad. "In your case, exercising in the gym isn't necessarily bad, it's just that you take it to an unhealthy extreme as a way to try and deal with how you're feeling," he looks up at Steve. "Would that be right?"
Steve's mouth twists but he nods slowly. "Y—yeah, I guess." He admits reluctantly.
Jason's mouth quirks up. "The two ways we can deal with that," he says. "Is try to limit the unhealthy behavior and address the underlying issues." He tilts his head. "What have you done so far to try and avoid compulsively over-exercising?"
Steve's lips press together, and he shifts again. "Well…" Not much, his brain supplies for him. "Sometimes… JARVIS tries to interrupt me, but usually I ignore him."
Jason nods, and rests his chin on his hand, his elbow leaning against the armrest of his chair and his eyes distant as he thinks. "But you stopped last time, when Bucky was with you, and when Bucky came to give you the water bottle, yes?" Jason's eyes flick up to him and Steve nods.
Jason hums in thought for a second before he sits back in his seat. "What if you set an alarm on your phone?" He asks. "A certain amount of time for working out before a break, and if you've hurt yourself, you have to stop." He gives Steve a conspiratorial grin. "You can ask JARVIS to send Bucky down to intercept you if you decide to ignore your alarm."
Steve's mouth twitches and he ducks his head as he smiles. "Yeah that might, that might work." He agrees dryly.
Jason gives him a bright satisfied grin. "Good," he says, writing down their plan on his notepad. "Let me know how it goes next week," he says, putting his pad down again. "Now, as for dealing with the underlying causes, you told me you think it was triggered because you were having trouble sleeping?"
Steve cringes and looks away. "This time it was," he admits, looking resolutely towards the window of the office. "It's not always though."
Unfortunately, Jason does not seem inclined to change the topic and continues on the same stream as before. "Was it the nightmares that kept you up?" He asks gently. "Or something else?"
Steve purses his lips and his hands twist in his lap. "I…" He trails off and continues to stare blankly out the window. "I just don't… sleep very good," he says finally. "The nightmares are… are bad and the bed's too soft so…" He shrugs uncomfortably and finds he can't quite look at Jason. "I sometimes sleep on the floor, but that isn't really comfortable either."
His chest feels tight and his heart seems to have taken it upon itself to beat it's way out of his chest, which is rather annoying honestly because he has no reason to be nervous admitting this to Jason, but that doesn't seem to stop him.
Jason hums again and leans his elbow on the arm of his chair. "You said the bed's too soft?" He asks and Steve nods.
"After sleeping in cots and on the ground all the time during the war…" He shrugs again and looks down at his lap. "At first, I thought it was just me, but Sam mentioned he felt that way too…" His fingers twist together, and he rubs his thumb over the palm of his hand repetitively. "I'd hoped that maybe I'd get used to it eventually… but it feels like… it feels like I'm drowning in it sometimes—like I can't breathe, and then, and then I sleep on the floor."
Steve presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth and crosses his leg over his knee, squeezing them together in an attempt to release some of the tension growing in his body.
"Have you thought of getting a different mattress?" Jason asks. "A harder one? It might not fix everything, but it could help."
His legs press together harder and Steve ducks his head. He hadn't actually thought of that but— "No," he bursts out. "No, I don't think— I don't think I can do that."
Jason looks a little confused at his reaction and he uncrosses and re-crosses his legs before continuing. "Why not?" He asks and Steve's tongue curls up uncomfortably in his mouth, his fingers twisting rapidly in his lap.
"I just—" He presses his lips together. "I don't—" His foot starts bouncing anxiously without his permission and he stares resolutely at the corner of Jason's coffee table. "I'm… not sure," he grinds out finally. "But I don't… I don't like that idea."
"I can see that it seems to be upsetting you," Jason says, causing Steve's cheeks to flame red in embarrassment. "Do you know what upsets you so much?"
Steve shakes his head and fights the urge to curl his legs up onto the chair with him. "I don't know, I just can't."
Jason chews on his lip for a second before shifting in his chair. "I just want to try something for a second Steve," he says giving him a reassuring look. "We can stop if you want, but I'm hoping we can maybe figure out what's bothering you."
Steve hesitates for a second before nodding. "Okay," he says, nodding his head and trying to relax as he looks up to Jason. "What did you want?"
Jason flashes him a smile and leans forward slightly. "I'm going to say something," he says. "And I want you to explain the first thing that comes to mind, okay? You can close your eyes for this or keep them open, your choice."
Steve sucks in a breath and leans back in his chair, closing his eyes and trying to relax before giving Jason a nod.
"Okay," Jason says, his voice sounding warm and reassuring. "What's the first thing that comes to mind when I say: getting a new mattress?"
Steve's shoulders tense and he scowls a little bit at his reaction before trying to focus on his thoughts. "It…" He opens his eyes and looks over at Jason. "It was a little confusing," he admits. "I first kind of thought of a mall or like, a store, but then I thought about the flat I had when I was living with Bucky in the 40s."
Jason nods and writes something on his notepad. "Have you ever gone mattress shopping before?" He asks after a moment.
Steve shakes his head. "No, I didn't really buy the stuff I have now, and back in the 30s I just used my old one when I moved in with Bucky." He shrugs. "A new mattress would have been too expensive anyways."
Jason's eyebrows tick down in thought and he tilts his head slightly. "What do you mean?" He asks.
Steve looks back towards the window. "Well, a new mattress was about 15 dollars," he explains, his legs tensing slightly. "That's more than a whole month's rent."
Jason lifts his chin for a second as he thinks before he looks back at Steve. "Steve…" He asks slowly, a thought beginning to take shape. "Is it the mattress that's the problem, or is it buying a mattress?"
Steve's head darts up. "I… I'm not sure," he says, sounding like the idea had never occurred to him before.
Jason leans forward. "If, for the sake of the argument, you woke up one day, and found your mattress had suddenly been replaced, with no cost to you, would you be willing to keep it?"
Steve opens his mouth and then closes it. "I think… I think yeah, I would," he says after a moment.
"But you wouldn't go out and buy yourself a mattress," Jason presses, looking as if he was on to something.
"Well, no," Steve says, waving his hand. "I already have a mattress. I don't need to waste money to buy another one."
"But you can't sleep on the one you have," Jason says. "Why not get a new one then?"
"Because…" Steve squirms uncomfortably and bites the inside of his cheek. "Because—because it's too expensive!" He bursts out, his stomach clenching.
Jason stares at him for a second and Steve looks away, his hands clenching in his lap. "When you say too expensive," Jason asks gently. "Do you mean too expensive now, or when you were younger, in the 40s?"
Steve's jaw flexes and he looks out the window, trying to even out his breaths. "I donno," he says quietly. "It's so hard to tell now. Everything looks so much more expensive now because of inflation." His hands start twisting together in his lap again and he reaches down to pull the discarded pillow into his lap, clutching at it almost defensively.
"Seventy years of inflation is a lot," Jason agrees, his eyes on Steve.
Steve nods, his gaze fixed on the windows, his fingers twisting the corner of the pillow as he speaks. "SHIELD explained it all to me when I woke up," he says. "But it felt so wrong, seeing prices for things like—like a gallon of milk that would've cost about 50 cents before, but now…" Steve shrugs and his hands clench on the pillow. "It costs almost 3 dollars."
He swallows and presses his lips together. He knows it sounds silly. Three dollars doesn't sound like a lot, but it is, or it was, and it was hard to remember that 3-dollar milk wasn't a lot when you were used to having to make nine dollars stretch out over a whole week.
"And you grew up during the Great Depression," Jason cuts in, looking as though a light had dawned.
Steve nods, his throat feeling tight. "Yeah," he says. "Couldn't even afford things back then, and now it feels like I can't risk it because—" He ducks his head and bites his lip, pulling the pillow closer.
Jason scratches his forehead for a second and shifts in his chair. "What's your financial situation like right now?" He asks quietly. "Can you afford things?"
Steve scoffs and glares off towards Jason's bookshelves. "I got a lotta backpay apparently," he drawls. "I can still remember the day SHIELD showed me the figure in my bank account." His hands twist the corner of the pillow and he shrugs. "It felt like a lot, until I saw how expensive everything is now."
He slouches back in the chair and turns back towards the window. "It's… frightening," he admits. "What if I don't have as much as I think I do? What if–" He lets go of the pillow for a second and waves his hand. "What if I spend too much because I can't tell how expensive things are anymore?"
"That does sound stressful," Jason agrees, before tilting his head and giving Steve a speculative look. "Have you tried budgeting out your money?" He asks. "To see if you can afford to buy things?"
Steve hadn't really, and Jason flips to a new page in his notebook. "We can try it now," he says. "Just to give us something to picture."
He draws out three columns, as Steve nods his assent, and marks them, 'Expenses', 'Savings', and 'Earnings' before handing the pad over to Steve. "Fill it out the best you can, for say, your average month," he says. "It's okay, if you can't remember the exact numbers, you can do another one at home if you want to make it more accurate, this is just to start us off."
Steve accepts the pad and pen and cracks a dry smile. "My memory is pretty much perfect, thanks to the serum," he says wryly. "I should be able to remember the numbers."
Jason raises an eyebrow as though intrigued but keeps quiet as Steve writes.
To start with, Steve writes down his backpay in the 'Savings' category before moving on to 'Earnings' and 'Expenses'. He's a little shaky on whether his monthly income is courtesy of Tony or the government, now that SHIELD has been dismantled (and now that he thinks of it, that's probably something he should look in to), but at least it's steady. As for 'Expenses'…
The number is almost embarrassingly small. His natural reluctance to spend money combined with Tony/JARVIS' habit of 'picking up the bill' leaves him with a cost of living that is almost as much as what it had been back in the 40s.
He hands the paper back to Jason with a certain amount of self-consciousness bleeding through. He goes back to twisting the corners of the pillow while Jason reads through his work and finds he can't quite look at him when he's finished.
"It's clear you don't buy very much for yourself," Jason says after a moment and Steve tries not to cringe. "Which is fine," Jason continues. "I was just wondering about a few things." He taps the page. "Like food for instance, you don't seem to buy much of that."
"Oh," Steve shrugs. "Most of that's provided for in the tower, and even if it wasn't I don't usually— ah, um…" He trails off because his brain had caught up to the end of his sentence and he hadn't actually been planning on revealing that much today.
Jason waits patiently while Steve fiddles with the pillow. "I don't, um… I don't like to, uh." He licks his lips and suddenly finds himself deeply interested in the brocade pattern of the pillow. He doesn't actually really want to talk about this right now, but it's too late to back out without Jason noticing, so he might as well continue. "I find it hard to, um, to—uh— to buy enough food," he finishes in a rush, his shoulders climbing up to his ears as he speaks.
Jason's brow furls in concern and Steve looks away, staring intently at a point just to the right of Jason's chair. "Is… is it because of the cost of food?" Jason asks quietly.
Steve swallows and rubs his thumb over the fabric of the pillow. "A little?" He says, shrugging uncomfortably. "It's also just… it's just." He looks over to Jason. "I have to eat a lot of food."
"What do you mean?"
Steve looks back down at his hands. "With… with the serum, I have to eat about eight thousand to ten thousand calories a day," he explains. "That's almost." He looks back up at Jason. "That's three thousand calories a meal."
"That is a lot," Jason agrees as he writes a note on his pad.
Steve nods emphatically. "It's way more than I ever ate before and— and even during the war, I didn't eat that much, coz of rations— and now I gotta buy food that costs an arm and a leg…" He shakes his head.
Jason looks back down at the budget that he'd made. "It's true that that would be a lot of money," he says. "But it looks like you can afford it."
Steve shrugs away and shifts uncomfortably. "Maybe," he concedes. "But it doesn't feel that way. And anyway, eating that much food feels wrong."
Jason looks at him carefully. "How many calories a day do you usually eat?" He asks.
"Oh." Steve breathes in and waves his hand. "It's better now," he says. "Now that I gotta make sure Bucky eats, I usually get at least six thousand calories a day."
Jason's mouth quirks and he gives Steve what can only be described as A Look. "You seem to be more willing to improve yourself for other people than for yourself, Steve," he says.
Steve's cheeks heat and he ducks his head. "Yeah, probably," he mumbles.
Jason shifts in his seat and writes something else on his pad. "Well, I'm glad you told me this," he says. "And I can understand why it's hard for you, but it's important to eat enough food."
Steve bites his lip and fiddles with the pillow. "I know it's silly," he says. "Freaking out over buying food but—"
"Steve," Jason cuts in, a warm look in his eyes. "Growing up in poverty like you did, it's completely natural for you to have some anxieties surrounding money now." Steve's lips press together, and he drops his gaze. "But," Jason continues, shifting in his chair. "Looking at your budget here, you can afford to eat enough food, so together we're going to work on that."
They spend the rest of the session discussing budgeting and eating strategies, ending with Jason turning to a fresh page in his notebook and drawing several more columns. "I know you're worried about spending too much," he says as he draws. "So, I thought we could try something else."
He hands the pad over to Steve so that he can see the new columns marked with words like 'Groceries', 'Emergencies' and 'Entertainment'.
"Budget yourself a certain amount of money every week for these things," Jason says, as Steve looks over the pad. "If you want, write out all your other expenses so that you can be sure you can afford it, but," he takes the pad back and taps the column marked 'Entertainment'. "I especially want you to set aside a little money to spend on something you don't need."
He clicks his pen closed and offers Steve a smile. "By giving yourself a set amount to spend on things that aren't necessities, you can make sure you don't accidentally spend too much, without keeping yourself from enjoying yourself, does that make sense?"
Steve nods slowly and Jason sits forward and uncrosses his legs. "Just a reminder that food is a necessity," he says, giving Steve another Look. "Work your budget around how much money you need to buy the food you need."
Steve bites back a smile and looks down. "Yeah, okay," he agrees, his mouth quirking up. "I guess fainting from low blood sugar is frowned upon nowadays."
Jason snorts and rolls his eyes. "Yes, generally," he says dryly, sitting back and clicking his pen. "So, this week, I want you to plan out a budget so you can eat and… I want you to buy something for yourself."
"For myself?" Steve asks, his head darting up in surprise.
Jason nods, writing down the goal on his notepad. "It doesn't have to be anything like a mattress," he says. "And I would encourage you to bring someone along if you think that would make it easier for you, but I want you to buy something that you want, not need, and–" He looks up and gives him a knowing look. "It has to be for you, Steve, not a present for somebody else."
oOo
Buy something for myself, Steve thinks, a few days later as he walks downtown, his eyes scanning the shops around him. Something that I want, not need.
It's harder than he expected, trying to think of something that he wanted. Everything he thinks of sounds unnecessary (which, he supposes, is kind of the point), leaving him wandering the streets in a vain hope that something might catch his eye.
It's a bit like being asked what you want for your birthday, he muses as he eyes the display of hand carved figurines in the storefront window of the shop next to him. You have all sorts of ideas until someone actually asks you what they are, and then suddenly you've never wanted something ever in your entire life.
After looking at the polished wood of the figurines for a few more minutes, he decides to go in. It can't hurt, he thinks as he pulls open the door, the smell of pinewood and cinnamon washing over him.
If he had to think of a word to describe the little shop, Steve would probably have gone with Lumberjack. Not a gruff lumberjack though, more like a comfortable one, someone who liked to wear flannel and warm socks while they drank hot chocolate and carved little chess sets out of wood.
The whole store has a cozy vibe to it, with little knick knacks like bear snow globes, handmade soap and encouraging signs to hang on your wall. There's clocks that look like birdhouses and hooks for your wall that look like butterflies and a whole section of the store dedicated to scarves and socks and other such things to keep yourself warm.
Steve is busy running his hand over the softest scarf he's ever seen when his eye catches on a pair of slippers propped up in a box. They're blue, with blue and grey plaid lining the inside, and a soft grey trim of faux fur that instantly makes the slippers some of the most comfortable things he's ever seen.
He's busy running his finger over the lining when he realises abruptly that these are something that he maybe actually wants. And they'd be useful too, he reasons as he continues to examine the slippers. I could keep them by the kitchen and put them on when I open the freezer, that way my feet won't get cold and—
His eyes drop to the price tag.
Twenty-eight, ninety-five.
Almost thirty dollars.
Steve swallows and his hand pulls away from the slippers, his heart beginning to pound a little faster. Thirty dollars had been almost an entire month's wages in the 40s.
He wipes his hand on his pants and tries to breathe in deeply, not particularly wanting to fall apart inside a random store. He knows he can afford it, he knows he can. But he doesn't know if he can actually buy it.
A sudden ding from his pocket distracts him and he pulls out his phone to see a text from Tony. He opens it to find a picture of a textpost from some sort of social media site.
It reads:
Today, 2:16 pm
[PTSD or "This one weird trick for coping with trauma.
Therapists hate it!"]
Steve's brow arches at the textpost, his eyes flickering back and forth between it and Tony's name in his contacts before his mouth very cautiously edges upward.
A few seconds later Tony sends another one.
Today, 2:17 pm
[my counselor: how are you doing?
me: good, how are you?
my counselor: good, so what brings you here today?
me: im doin real bad karen]
A snort forces its way out of his nose and Steve shakes his head, the curve of his mouth rising into a definite smile as he reads over the text again.
He had been wondering, since Tony hadn't really mentioned it, if Tony had fulfilled his end of the bargain and gone to see some sort of therapist. Judging from the pictures he'd just sent him, Steve is willing to bet that yes, he had.
His eyes drag up to the slippers again before looking back down at his phone a few times, his hand tightening slightly around it as he clenches his jaw determinedly.
Something he wanted for himself indeed.
Making a mental note to find some sort of textpost to send back to Tony, since that seemed to be the protocol for this sort of thing, he turns to the shopkeeper. "Do… do you have these in size eleven?"
AN: Steve: I need to eat 8000 to 10 000 calories a day
Jason: So how many are you eating now?
Steve: Oh, it's WAY better now, at least 6000
Jason: ...
Jason: That's... that's not even the minimum Steve.
Poor Steve though.
Also, even when brainwashed and tortured, Bucky still has 'Steve is being stupid' Override XD
And Tony is indeed holding up his end of the therapy bargain.
One chapter left guys! (Don't worry, there is more coming in the universe)