So I bought a violin today. I'm gonna learn to play…I've never played before. Anyways—IT'D BE NICE TO HEAR FROM MY READERS…I've got no idea if I'm doing good, bad, eh, etc. What do you guys want to happen, to not happen, etc. I already know loosely where I'm taking this…
So lemme know how I'm doing and review!
Chapter 20
Bucky spent the next few days cooped up in the 2 bedroom apartment, watching the news and catching up on things. Steve had given him a laptop and a quick rundown of navigating the internet. While he hadn't been completely new to the technologies of this time—Hydra had kept him up to date on the necessities of communication—the internet wasn't something he remembered ever using.
He'd been working his way through history, letting his memory connect with some of the more negative notable moments in history.
It was early, Bucky had lost track of time, and the sun was just barely peaking over the horizon out the living room window. He was on the couch, feet up on the edge of the coffee table, computer in his lap. A thud on the couch next to him jerked him from the article he was reading about the space race.
"I'm going for my run. You're coming with me," Steve smirked. Bucky glanced down at the pair of sweatpants that had landed next to him. "I mean, you don't have to if you don't think you can keep up, Old Man."
"'Old Man'?" Bucky repeated, pushing the laptop onto the table and standing up. He snatched the sweatpants off the couch and headed for his room. "I've been doing this a lot longer than you, Pal. You sure you're ready to finally have someone who can beat your ass? I doubt Wilson is much of a challenge for this you."
"Yeah, we'll see," Steve watched after him, glad he'd caught Bucky on one of his good, feels-like-the-old-Bucky kind of days.
Bucky quickly changed shirts, throwing on a dirty t-shirt and the sweatpants Steve had loaned him. He glanced down at the journal Clara had given him and felt a short pang in his chest. He had a page or two left, but hadn't written anything in a while and it was worrying him. He'd thrown himself into the research so hard because he was worried he wouldn't remember something important.
"Ready?" Steve asked with a grin when he came back out to the living room.
"I don't know if you are," Bucky retorted, leading the way out the door. As inconspicuously as he could, he rushed past Clara's apartment door on the first floor and rounded the corner.
When they got to the park that Steve usually did his morning runs in, he paused. "Want a head start?" he asked.
"I was about to ask you," Bucky retorted before he bolted down the path.
"That's cheating!" he heard Steve call after him. He vaguely remembered a time when they were kids when Steve did the same thing, knowing Bucky could easily catch up to him and eventually lap him. A new memory, he mused, slightly pleased.
"On your left," he breathed out as he passed a man jogging in a sweater.
He heard Steve not too far behind him now say the same thing. He was catching up fast.
"Oh hell no!" the man—Sam, Bucky realized—screamed after them both. "I am not going to put up with this!"
Confused, Bucky pushed on, hearing Steve getting closer. He pushed even harder, managing to gain a little more distance between the two. Bucky managed to keep ahead of Steve, just barely, for the next lap and a half. It was when they lapped Sam when Steve finally caught up and managed to gain a small lead.
Ten miles. Sam had stopped at seven and dropped onto a bench downing water as he watched the two men race like children. Steve had managed to hold a good ten foot lead for the rest of the run, stopping by Sam, barely panting at all.
Bucky slowed to a stop, visibly breathing harder than Steve. "You cheated," he said between breaths.
Sam shrugged. "You'll learn to accept it. Not all of us are super soldiers."
Bucky shook his head, taking a deep breath to steady his breathing and slow his heart. "Not all of us got the good stuff."
Sam lifted an eyebrow. "You get the off brand?"
"The Russian attempt, we think," Steve chimed in.
Movement in the trees behind Sam caught Bucky's eye and, unwillingly, he felt himself slip into the Winter Soldier habits. A man was watching them, but darted away when he noticed Bucky staring him down.
Bucky tensed, mentally calculating where the could be going, but before he could dart after him, a hand landed on his shoulder and jarred him out of his thoughts.
"You okay, Buck?" Steve asked, eyebrows pulled together.
Bucky blinked, feeling his face relax. "T—there was a man in the woods," he explained. "He was watching us. He took off."
"Probably trying to catch a glimpse of the great Captain America," Sam scoffed, waving it away.
"At seven in the morning?" Bucky muttered, narrowing his eyes at the trees wishing Hydra had given him improved vision in all the torture they'd done to him.
"It's been a crazy few weeks," Steve agreed. "Might just be a reporter."
"Maybe." Bucky couldn't shake the bad feeling he was getting. He just hoped Steve was right, and that Hydra wasn't about to resurface in his life. Not when he was just finally starting to piece together some semblance of a life.
"I gotta head out," Sam announced, standing up. "I have a few meetings down at the VA I don't wanna be late for." He looked over to Bucky. "Feel free to join us any time. You don't have to speak, just listen. You'll find there are a lot of people you could probably relate to."
"Unlikely," Bucky grumbled. Steve shot him a disapproving look. "Sorry, thanks."
The paranoia didn't let up as Steve and Bucky walked back to the apartment. He glanced around them as they walked, but the streets were filling with people and cars quickly as people got started on their day.
"Bucky, it's ok," Steve told him, noticing him checking rooftops and glaring down every alley they passed.
"The minute I let my guard down is gonna be the day they drag my ass back with them," he muttered, stopping when he saw movement down an alley, sighing when a bird flew out from behind a dumpster.
Steve pressed his lips together but kept quiet. As far as Bucky had come in the last two weeks, he was still…damaged. As any soldier would be, going through what Bucky had been through. But Steve knew the paranoia would last a while. He just hoped, for Bucky's sake, that the nightmares would stop so Bucky could finally get a good night's sleep.
Steve led the way into their apartment building.
"Oh, hey Clara," Steve greeted. The dark haired girl stood in front of her apartment door, locking the knob. She dropped her keys into her purse and looked up.
"Hello, Steve," she greeted. Bucky rounded the corner, looking over his shoulder. "Bucky?"
Bucky froze at the familiar British voice, whipping around to meet Clara's big brown eyes. Shit.
"I didn't know you were visiting Steve," she noted lightly. "Did you just arrive?"
Steve glanced between them. "Visiting? He's been here since I came back. He's staying with me. I thought he told you."
"Nope," Bucky ground out, popping the 'p' and tilting his head to glare at Steve. "You haven't changed in some areas at all."
Clara laughed. "It's ok." She glanced at her watch. "I've got to run, but if you want, I'd really like to sit and talk with you to catch up and see how you're doing."
Bucky floundered.
"I have a few sessions today—SHIELD has a temporary medical wing rented in hospital over in Arlington, but I'm free this afternoon," she offered.
"Why don't you come up to the apartment for dinner," Steve suggested, ignoring the intense, but familiar glare Bucky was giving him. "408C."
"That'd be great. Bucky?" She looked at him, eyebrows raised, clearly waiting for an OK from him.
Bucky sighed and gave a half hearted smile. "Yeah. Great."
"I'll see you then," she exclaimed, way too excited in Bucky's opinion.
Steve and Bucky lingered, watching as Clara practically bounced out into the street and climbed into a cab. One last wave, and she was gone.
Bucky rounded on Steve.
"What?" he asked innocently.
"I hate you."
Steve just smiled and led the way up the stairs to the apartment. He could feel Bucky glaring at him the whole way into the living room.
"I don't know why you don't just talk to her—why you don't want to talk to her," Steve said finally with a defensive shrug, filling a glass at the kitchen sink. "She offered so clearly she wants to."
"What if I don't want to?" Bucky snapped.
"Then you would have said no," Steve smirked, downing his glass and refilling it.
Bucky rolled his eyes and dropped into a stool. "Geez, what happened to that little kid from Brooklyn who couldn't talk to girls?" he moaned.
"I don't know—what happened to that kid from Brooklyn who could?" Steve challenged.
"He's being hunted down by Hydra."
Steve dropped his glass into the sink and gave Bucky a gentle look. "Nothing will happen to her."
Bucky shook his head, eyes wide, eyebrows raised. "Don't promise that Steve," he warned. "Don't say that—you know what's not true."
"No, but the safest place she can be is with us."
Bucky had no argument. "I just don't want her involved."
"Sorry to say this, Pal, but that ship has sailed."
"Maybe," Bucky admitted, remembering the day she stole him from that hospital. "But I want to do what I can to keep her away from Hydra. She's—" He stopped, biting the inside of his cheek, lips pursed as he tried to find the right word.
"She's what?"
"Special."
Steve furrowed his brow and leaned back against the sink. "What do you mean?"
"She's special," Bucky repeated softly, staring down at the marble countertop, but his eyes focused on memories in his head. "She's like the one thing I have that Hydra hasn't touched—that Hydra hasn't ruined." He looked up at Steve. "I don't wanna lose her. Not like I lost Connie."
"She can't be Connie, though."
"I know," Bucky laughed humorlessly. "She and Connie are so different. But she has a few of the same qualities. I can't even pretend she is Connie. Times when I thought she was, she would speak and break the illusion immediately."
Steve sighed. "Well, I'm here for you. I won't let anything bad happen to her. Not if I can help it."
"And if you can't help it?"
"Then we give 'em hell. War It's what we were made for, right?"
"Yeah," Bucky drawled, unable to argue with that.
"We'll deal with what happens when—or even if—it happens." Steve headed for his room, but stopped and spun around. "So, is this gonna be a date? Cuz that would be awkward—"
Bucky just gave him a dry look. "Go shower."
Steve laughed and left the room.