Mmm. So I think I have a good plan for this. And things to follow this. But I need to focus on this. XD So! Where were we? Tortured!Bucky and Angsty!Steve? XD Enjoy!~
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"So, Cap'n. Like what you see?"
Tony led Steve and Bruce to Bucky, and more and more Steve wondered just how many levels of crazy Tony's Stark Tower had. A jet-pad, a medical room, this.
It was a purely windowed cell in the middle of a large room. From what Tony had described, it was modeled after the one that had been used to hold Loki. It was 'crazy-Asgardian-god-proof', and by extension, 'Hobo-Soldier' proof, as Tony put it.
A steady stream of sedative gas was filtered into the little room, and Steve had to wonder how long they could keep it up. There could be only so many kinds. But what caught his attention was the sleeping Bucky, decked out in a hospital gown and tucked into a small, white bed. It seemed wrong, whether it was Bucky or the Winter Soldier, and he frowned at the sight.
"I wanted to keep him restrained." Tony continued. "But Jolly insisted that we should give him a chance to not try to-"
"-What he means is that if you can get through to him, maybe he'll stop trying to hurt himself." Bruce put it more gently, knowing Tony well enough to know that the next statement would have been graphic in a way Tony considered humorous.
Steve took that in with a nod before his brow furrowed. "Jolly?"
Tony jerked a thumb towards Bruce. "As in the Jolly Green Giant? Clever, right?"
Steve seemed a bit bewildered by that, and Tony just sighed. "No accounting for taste...anyway, we'll turn off the gas and keep an eye out. Ground rules. No going inside the bubble. No letting him out of the bubble. And no creepy-eye-sex." he warned.
Steve rolled his eyes before his brow furrowed. "Wait...you're going to watch?"
"Well, yeah."
"This is between me and Bucky...you don't need-"
"Don't worry, Cappy-tan," Tony interrupted, and Steve vaguely wondered how many variations of his title Tony could come up with, "We won't be listening. Your ninety-year-old dirty talk does not need to profane my not-so-innocent ears. We'll be watching so that if he goes apes***, we can turn on the gas. Unbreakable bubble does not mean unbreakable Hobo Soldier." he reminded Steve.
Steve didn't think he had wanted to punch Tony so much the last time they had spoken. Or had he just been too generous in his memories of the other? "Fine...thanks."
"Don't mention it." Tony saluted, and he headed off.
Bruce paused a moment to set a hand on Steve's shoulder and give it a light squeeze. "It won't be easy, whatever happens. But I really do believe you have a chance. So...don't give up."
Steve smiled and bumped a fist against Bruce's hand lightly. "Thank you, Bruce. I mean it."
Bruce smiled back almost shyly, and Steve suspected that Bruce wasn't used to getting thanked. The only people he probably hung out with were Tony and Pepper, Tony never said 'thank you' and Pepper probably didn't have a reason to. Most others who met Bruce ended up screaming. Which was a shame, because he was confident Bruce was one of the kindest men he'd met. Fate was a pain like that, Bucky was living proof.
Bruce inclined his head and then headed off, and when the door had shut behind them, Steve finally turned and took a seat in the chair outside the bubble. The only things in there were the bed and a tray with a cup of milk and a bowl of soup. He settled in with the expectation of a long wait, but around ten minutes later, Bucky began to stir and Steve rose to stand next to the glass right beside Bucky's bed.
Bucky's body writhed a moment, and his expression tensed up as if in pain before his eyes shot open. He lay still in the bed a moment before he suddenly sat upright and scanned the room with wide, unfocused eyes. As his gaze fell on Steve, he stilled. "You." he growled, as if Steve were the last person he'd ever want to see, before his eyes narrowed and he jumped out of the bed in a defensive stance. But he immediately began to pace the room and examine the walls, as if to determine a way out. He had reached Steve again when the other spoke.
"Whoa! Bucky, slow down, pal. You don't wanna tear out your stitches." he pointed to Bucky's stomach.
Bucky's jaw clenched but his eyes slid down, and as he saw the gown, he stiffened and went still. He stood unmoving for so long that Steve thought he might be about to pass out.
"Put him in this, it'll help keep some of the blood off the table." A scrub was passed over his head from his spot on the gurney.
Steve watched in surprise as Bucky suddenly ripped the top off. They'd left him in a pair of boxers, and judging by the cartoon ducks-they hadn't been the Winter Soldier's. But he drew in a sharp breath as he saw what lay under the hospital gown.
Bucky's body was littered with scars. Stabs, cuts, gunshot wounds, wounds he couldn't properly identify, a few burns from the look of it. And when Bucky spun around as if searching for something, he was horrifed to see a line of jagged scars in a line, as if he'd been caught by hooks or barbed wire and tried to yank himself free.
"Bucky." he choked out.
At that, the man stilled again and then whirled around as he stormed up to the side of the window-room that Steve was on. "Clothes. Where are they?" he snarled.
It took Steve a moment to realize what Bucky was asking, and he realized suddenly why he'd ripped off the scrubs. "Well, the ones you were wearing were covered with blood and torn up, so...but we'll get you new ones soon."
Bucky's eyes narrowed as Steve said 'we'll', and he suddenly slammed his metallic fist against the wall. It didn't make so much as a scratch, and Bucky tried again. Then again. Harder and harder each time, and he seemed oblivious when his stitches tore a bit and blood began to trickle out.
"Bucky, stop! Your stomach!" Steve's hands flew to the wall of the bubble, desperate to stop the other's movements and unable to do so.
Bucky stilled yet again, and he glanced down at himself before he looked back up at Steve with an expression that suggested he didn't see what the problem was. And then the anger returned as he narrowed his eyes at Steve. "What is this place?"
Steve wasn't sure to what he was referring specifically, so he answered all he could think of. "Well, this is a room in Stark Tower...and this...bubble-room is made of a special material. It's almost as strong as my shield." he said, by way of comparison. His expression was apologetic then. "It's just for...while you get settled, Buck."
A flash of red, white, and blue. The glimmer of metal in the sunlight.
"Hell, no. That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight, I'm following him."
A confident voice echoed in his mind. It was a voice that he'd heard before, one that gave him a strange sense of vertigo. He couldn't have called it deja vu, that term was as unfamiliar to his mental array as the sensation it represented.
There was another clatter against the wall as the Winter Soldier punched it again. "Stop calling me that." he snarled. "Why am I here?" He watched the man's expressions carefully. But all of the emotions the other man displayed were unfamiliar to him. He knew how to read emotions on his targets that were common, for the sake of his missions. But the strange scrunching, like the man was in pain somehow, it threw him off.
Steve wasn't sure what to say, how to explain things in a way that the other would understand in his current state. "...I know you don't believe me, but you are James Barnes. You're...you're a mess right now, pal, I won't lie to you...but that's why you're here, so we can fix you." he offered a small smile.
"He's showing signs of rebellion again. Give him a shock. That'll fix him."
Bucky's eyes had that unfocused look again, and he gripped his head as he muttered. "No more...stop...get your hands off of me!" he shouted before he let out a guttural noise and overturned the whole bed. He attempted again to assault the wall, and the blood continued to well at his now aggravated stitches.
"Bucky!" His gaze was frantic as he searched for where there might be a tell-tale camera. "Turn the gas on, damnit!" Was Tony waiting for a gilded invitation?
"Well, that was fast." Tony had muttered when the Winter Soldier had started going berserk, but when he went to turn on the gas, Bruce stayed his hand. Tony lifted a brow. "This working for you, or something, buddy?"
Bruce didn't bother to chide him. "Hold on a second...not yet."
Tony didn't think that was such a good idea, and the Captain was going to be pissed...but he...had some relative amount of faith [not to be confused with 'trust'] in Bruce. So he shrugged and settled back in to watch, even as the Captain yelled at him to turn it on.
When the gas failed to arrive, Steve cursed as Bucky continued his onslaught. He had to do something-there had to be something-
"I-I've got...ah...I've got a dame..so rare and fine...I'd do anything...just to make her mine." Steve's voice was a little hoarse and he coughed as he continued his poor attempt. "I swear in the moonlight, she's an angel divine...nothing like that sweet dame of mine."
It was an old song, it had been a little old even they'd listened to it back in the day. But Bucky loved odd music, [in every one else's opinion but his own], and Steve had liked it well enough. He didn't know where the idea had come from, he'd just reacted, a desperate attempt to distract and reach Bucky. And to his surprise, [and relief], Bucky stopped with a fist on the wall and stared at Steve with a blank expression. When Steve finished, Bucky's expression twitched into something almost like confusion, and his voice was low as he asked. "What the Hell was that?"
"Uh...Sweet Dame of Mine? It's a song. Music. You know about music, right?" God, he hoped so.
Bucky's expression twitched again, and if looks could kill, Steve felt that he'd be dead in forwards and reverse. "What's wrong with you?" he hissed.
Great, his completely off-the-wall, insane best friend was asking what his problem was. But he noticed that Bucky seemed slightly more lucid, and his eyes were definitely focused on Steve now. And he wasn't ripping his stitches, so there was that.
Steve offered his friend a sheepish smile. "A lot, probably. But it's part of my charm. Maybe." He'd heard once that the best way to make a friend, was to act like you already were friends. And they really were, after all, so maybe if he attempted to be light-hearted...he might reach the other?
The way Bucky's teeth gritted at his words suggested that Steve had erred in that thought. A frustrated look crossed Bucky's face before he got the unfocused look again.
"You're such a dope, Steve."
"Part of my charm. Jerk."
Bucky's fingers twitched, and his gaze jerked upwards suddenly. "Why am I alive?"
Steve wasn't sure what answer he was looking for, he wasn't entirely sure he understood the root of the question. He hesitated before he replied. "Because apparently it takes more than being hurled out of a heli-carrier to kill you?" Which reminded him of something. "Thanks for saving me, by the way."
Bucky stiffened like he'd been accused of something dreadful. His eyes narrowed again as he snarled. "I did not save you. You're my mission. I'm going to kill you." he said with lethal certainty.
Steve felt a little sick hearing those words coming out of Bucky's mouth, but he reminded himself that it was the Winter Soldier talking. "Well, someone pulled me out of that water. And I'm not exactly a light-weight these days. Nobody else owned up to it. And I saw a flash of silver in that water." he gestured to Bucky's metal arm pointedly.
Bucky paused, and he suddenly had a look of concentration as if trying to recall if that were true or not. But finally his cold gaze returned to Steve. "You're my mission." he repeated. "I will kill you."
"You said that before. And then you let me go. And then you saved me. So now let me ask you a question. Why'd you do it?"
Bucky's mouth opened, and then closed as he stared at Steve. A vision flashed before his eyes, of a scrawny boy he'd seen in his head sometimes. He seemed so weak and breakable. "You were smaller." he muttered, aloud but to himself.
Steve was suddenly hopeful. "Yeah, that's right. Before I got the serum. We lived together in Brooklyn."
"Stop saying that!" Bucky snapped.
"That's the first time I said that-"
"-Stop! Whatever this is, stop! Kill me. Or let me kill you. But stop talking. Stop talking. Just stop. Stop it...that hurts...that...agh!" Bucky suddenly let out a wrenching noise and clutched his head as he stumbled back.
Steve recalled suddenly what Bruce had said about Bucky's returning memories being like crashing a car over and over again. He couldn't remember clearly, he couldn't fix himself, so he hit a stopping point and then... "Bucky, calm down! Just breathe! In and out, c'mon, Bucky!"
Bucky gasped suddenly as a wave of pain assailed him, and spots danced in his eyes as his vision was replaced by another scene. There was that scrawny kid again, he couldn't breathe...he always had troubled breathing...
"C'mon, Steve, stay with me, buddy. Just breathe in and out, real slow. You're alright, pal." Bucky's voice was soothing as he rubbed circles on fourteen-year old Steve's back. Steve had had an attack out of the blue, and his mother hadn't been able to afford his medicine that month. "Where's your inhaler?...Steve? Where is it?"
Steve coughed and clutched his stomach as he shook his head. Bucky was going to be mad.
Bucky watched him carefully a moment, but they'd grown up together and Bucky didn't need all the details, he could fill in the blanks on his own. He cursed as he continued his comforting circles on Steve's back, while he held his upper arm with his free hand. "Just breathe, bud. Phewww. In and out. Pheewww." he mimed breathing noises. "Calm beaches...sunny days...hot chicks in bikinis..." Steve half-laughed, half-coughed at that, and then he went back to breathing in and out as he followed Bucky's rhythm. Eventually, the weight in his chest lessened and with a final cough, the fit settled.
Steve sighed heavily and inhaled, before he slumped a bit. Bucky loped his arm around Steve and let the other boy lean against his chest as his squeezed his shoulder. "You alright, Steve?"
Steve swallowed hard, and Bucky had apparently anticipated his needs because he had a cup of water ready in his free hand. Steve gulped it down as he nodded before he gave a breathy. "Thanks, Buck."
Bucky eyed his friend for a moment before he nodded and rose suddenly. "Stay here for a bit, huh? Just remembered somethin'."
"Remembered what?" Steve's brow furrowed, but Bucky had taken something off the table and was already out the door. "Bucky, wait!"
"Just stay put!" Bucky hollered back, and with a frown, Steve complied.
About twenty minutes later, Bucky returned a fresh canister for Steve's inhaler which he tossed on the bed casually while he popped a stick of gum and tossed a piece to Steve. "Needed some gum." he said by way of explanation. "Picked that up while I was out."
Steve stared at it before he realized. "Bucky...that...that came from your savings! You were gonna take...what's her...ah, Stacy to the game!"
Bucky shrugged. "Didn't like her much anyway, not a big deal. Rather spend the weekend with my best pal anyway." he plopped down on the bed beside Steve, who stared at his friend miserably.
"I messed something up for you again.." Steve said morosely, before he yelped, "Ow!' as Bucky bopped him on the head.
"Nothing about you messes my life up. Now shut up, use the damn inhaler, eat your gum, and let's turn on the radio! I need some tunes." he cranked it up suddenly, and some old tune came pouring out. Steve scrunched his nose, but naturally Bucky knew the words. And while, really, neither of them could carry a tune...there was something distinctly pleasant about Bucky's deep, Brookyln drawl when he sang.
"I've got a dame so rare and fine...I'd do anything to make her mine...c'mon, Steve, y'know this one. I taught you better than that."
Steve had taken a hit from his inhaler, and with gum cracking in his jaw, he [not really] reluctantly joined in with a grin on his face. "Thanks, Buck."
"Just sing, dope. I swear in the moonlight..."
Steve added. "She's an angel...something something...she's divine...fine like wine.." The pillow thrown at his head seemed like a good indication of how poorly he was doing, but when he laughed and looked up, Bucky was grinning. And that was all that mattered, really. As long as Bucky was happy, that was enough...because for some reason, even though Bucky coulda had any one he liked for a friend...he'd chosen the miniature asmatic with an 'attitude' problem.
"Steeeeeve." Bucky sang. "Keeeeep singingggg." he said loudly, and Steve added in more nonsense words that had them both grinning. It wasn't the first time he'd talked Steve through an episode, nor the last. And he was the only one who could.
Bucky didn't realize he'd fallen until he found himself on the opposite side of the room and hunched in a corner. There was a slight pool of blood where the last of the fresh blood near the surface had eked out of his wound. He was dimly aware of his target-Captain America-shouting something beside him. What was he saying? Everything hurt.
"cky...k...Bucky! C'mon! Wake up! Hey!"
All of the sudden, Bucky had started muttering incoherently, then he'd shouted in pain and collapsed in a corner where he just twitched intermittenly. When he finally came around, he seemed out of it. "Hey, Buck, are you alright? Talk to me."
"What did you do to me?" Bucky whispered, confused, in pain, and no longer lucid. He had vague notions that he was now a prisoner...but his jailer kept singing. And there was that boy, that boy couldn't breathe and needed his help...and there was that scalpel, gleaming metal in the water...there was too much water. "Too much water." he mumbled.
Steve rapped on the wall then in an attempt to get Bucky's attention, and that was the wrong move as Bucky jerked as though shot and jumped up with wide eyes. He saw Steve and he brought a clenched fist to the wall where he let it drag. Bucky heaved as though out of breath, and then he shouted. "Stop f***ing with me! I'll kill you! I'll f***ing kill you! Stop your damn singing!" he hissed as he clutched his head again. He wanted the pain to stop. He needed it to stop.
Bucky tapped his head on the wall lightly at first, and then harder the second time, almost experimentally before he suddenly slammed his head with enough force that it rocked his body on recoil. He then continued the process over and over again, and at some point, he must have hit his nose because a splatter of blood found it's way onto the wall in the span of just a few seconds.
Steve drew a sharp breath inward and screamed. "TURN THE DAMN GAS ON!"
Gas visibly poured in at once, and Bucky, whether from Steve's words or from the scent, jerked away and covered his nose. His mask, where was his mask? He stumbled as he tried not to breathe. Had to get away. Had to complete his mission. Eliminate the target. Nick Fury-no, he was dead...but he wasn't. The woman. The spider-woman. Tony Banner. Bruce Stark. No. Captain America. Who was his target? Who was he?
The man from the pictures in the museum caught the scrawny boy by the shoulder. What was the expression on their faces? Why did they look like that? Was it...sadness? Was that it? The larger boy was...what was he doing? Why did he look like that?
When Bucky awoke again, he wasn't sure how much time had passed. But he noted that this time, he was restrained. And there was that man again, in a chair next to him, with another expression that he didn't understand.
...
"Why the Hell didn't you turn the gas off?" Steve shouted as he hunted down Tony and Bruce.
Tony pointed to Bruce. "His idea." he threw the other under the bus instantly in lieu of the extremely angry super-soldier.
"Like I'd believe that!"
"It's true." Bruce admitted, and Steve looked to him in surprise. Bruce was silent a moment before he elaborated. "...It's not enough to get him riled up and then stop. I warned you this process wouldn't be easy...we can't let him go too far, but...you have to push him at least a little if you want results."
"That's not your call." Steve snapped. "I asked you to stop."
"And I declined. I'll take responsibility for that." Bruce said evenly.
Steve glared at the man a moment, before he sighed and slumped down in a chair. "You're probably right, but...when he hurts himself...I just...I can't watch him...I can't do nothing."
"I know...that's why I did it for you. I'm sorry."
"No..it's...he talked...a little. Threatened to kill me, but...it was sentences. I guess that's...progress." Was it worse for him to be silent, or to speak only to threaten to kill him?
"It is." Bruce said firmly. "He sounded...lucid for a few moments there...try getting him to eat and drink...that might help stabilize him...as well as that he simply needs to."
"I don't think he's going to take that well."
"He won't have a choice." Bruce said, with an apologetic but matter-of-fact tone.
...
Which was how Bucky ended up re-stitched up, and in restraints that left him pretty much stuck to the bed. Steve had tested them himself, so he knew they were super-soldier proof. And he was more than sympathetic for the setup that was under the blanket, where they'd hooked him up to compensate for the fact that he wouldn't be using the restroom anytime soon. Although they'd given him some light, actual clothing-all in black per Steve's request. He didn't want Bucky to feel like the Winter Soldier, but he didn't want to completely isolate him from his comfort zones either.
When Bucky awoke, he let him catch his bearings a moment before he said gently, "Hey." Bucky had fresh bruises on his face courtesy of his head-banging session with the wall of the bubble, but they'd cleaned the blood.
Bucky stared at him silently at first, before he tried to sit up and found himself restrained and he gritted his teeth as he tried to free himself. When he found that he couldn't, his eyes widened and he began writhing frantically.
"Tie the restraints tighter! Don't let him escape...we don't want his muscles to spasm during the surgery either."
"No!" Bucky snarled to no one in particular, and Steve could see that unfocused look again. That was, he supposed, how he could tell when Bucky was with him or...not so much.
Steve set a hand on his shoulder to comfort him, but Bucky drew a sharp breath and actually snarled at Steve, a wild expression on his face for a moment before Steve started to hum the song he'd sang earlier. And like magic, Bucky twitched and went still. He had no idea why that worked as well as it did, but he wasn't about to complain. "Bucky...look at me. Focus on me. Please."
Bucky's jaw clenched but his eyes swiveled up towards Steve.
Steve's voice was gentle. "Listen, pal...you're safe, I promise you. And right now you need to get some food in you, you haven't been taking care of yourself."
"You need to take better care of yourself, punk. Drink your milk or you'll never grow up."
"That's a lie and you know it."
"How'd you think I got so big, dummy?"
"Dumb luck." Steve snorted in reply.
Steve could see that he was losing him again, and he picked up the soup as he tried to let the scent waft to Bucky. "Smells good, right? Chicken noodle and stars. Dinner of champions." he smiled.
Bucky frowned. "You make noodles out of chickens?"
Steve almost dropped the bowl. If the situation weren't so completely freaking awful, he might have laughed at the genuine question and confusion on Bucky's part. But in reality, it was so sad that he almost choked. He swallowed hard before he spoke next. "It's...little pieces of chicken, and noodles. And they aren't real stars." he added, in case Bucky was confused about that.
The man sneered. "Obviously." he hissed.
Okay. Because that was the obvious part. Steve would just not comment on that. He picked up a spoonful and held it towards Bucky. "You're suffering from malnutrition and dehydration. That's why you were slower in the-" He didn't really want to bring those memories up, actually. The forest incident was best left forgotten or not dwelled upon, at least. "-You need to eat." he finished lightly.
Bucky eyed him, the spoon, and promptly turned away. "I won't play your game. Kill me, or I'll escape and kill you. It's that simple."
Steve's expression crumbled into one of pain, but he masked it quickly. "Come on, Buck...you need to eat." he brought the spoon closer, and he smiled when Bucky jerked his head around and took a bite. His smile was short-lived when Bucky spit it in his face with a look that could almost be called triumph before he looked away again.
Steve wiped his face. Time for a little tough love then. He ignored the death threat as he continued on. "If I can't get you to eat this soup, Tony Stark said he's going to have you put on a supplement tube." Bucky didn't move. "An anal tube..." Steve finished in a voice that suggested his sympathies.
Whether from actually detecting in his tone, or because of his understanding of what the would involve, Bucky turned back with a look of malice and said darkly. "Give me the damned soup."
Steve, more pleased than he cared to admit for the quiet moment of taking care of Bucky-much like Bucky had done for him on his bad days, eventually got him to finish the soup and a bottle of water, plus a little juice. Quite an accomplishment.
"See? That wasn't so bad, was it?"
Bucky's grim expression spoke of murder, and Steve sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. But after a moment, Bucky spoke quietly. And Steve was impressed at how long he'd managed to stay...some semblance of sane and lucid. Hopeful, too. "Why are you doing this?"
"...If I don't feed you-"
"-That's not what I mean!" Bucky snapped. "Stop playing stupid."
Steve weighed his potential responses carefully before he spoke. "I've already told you. You're Bucky. That's enough."
"Enough for what?" Steve wasn't sure it was an indication of anything that Bucky hadn't denied being himself, or if he was just more concerned with his question.
"Enough for me to do whatever I can to help you." Steve said softly, and Bucky's look of frustration returned.
"I...I don't understand!" he snarled, and he tensed in his restraints again.
"I know...but we'll get through it, pal. Together."
The other male shot him a look, for just a brief moment, one with a furrowed brow and pursed lip, frustrated and drawn, and he looked so very Bucky. But then his gaze slid past Steve, to more specters he couldn't see and suddenly Bucky's eyes widened as he began to thrash about in his restraints.
"No! I won't let you! Keep it off of me! Stop it! Stop-agh-no!" he screamed, and Steve actually jumped slightly.
Steve hesitated and then set his hand on Bucky's cheek gently. "Bucky...Bucky, hey, stop. It's over. You're here with me. Just listen to my voice, okay? You're good. Your safe. I won't let anything hurt you again, pal. I promise."
Bucky, through his haze, through visions of being spliced and tortured and sewn back together, could hear a voice that sounded like warmth. And when he found his bearings, there was that man, with a hand on his cheek and looking down at him with another expression he couldn't fathom. He just didn't understand this man at all. Or his strange words and promises. Bucky couldn't understand his motives. "That's good. It'll be even easier to kill you if you don't fight back." he said lowly, and Steve's fingers curled before his hand pulled away.
The machine roared to life as the surgical tool was activated, and the sharp, whirring metal bit into Bucky's skin-
"I'm under your spell. Can't take my eyes off of you. Can't seem to breathe without you near, I need you, dear." Steve sang.
Bucky's unfocused look faded, yet again, and he looked to Steve with an imperceptible expression. "You haven't killed me yet."
Steve wondered how much of their conversations he actually remembered. He seemed not to be correlating their past conversations, and yet, neither did he seem to be completely regressing so Steve wasn't sure. "I'm not going to." he finally said. "I won't let any one hurt you, I told you." Bucky just stared at him without reply before he turned away, and Steve sighed before he rose. "I'll let you sleep now. I'll come back later to help you."
"I can take care of myself." Bucky snarled.
Steve didn't bother arguing the obvious point that neither now, nor before, could he seem to do so. Bucky could have, but not the Winter Soldier. Instead, he settled for something nostalgic and with a faint, sad smile he repeated words Bucky had warmly spoken to him long ago. "The thing is, you don't have to." Bucky's eyes widened suddenly. "I'm with you-Bucky? Buck!"
Bucky began to convulse suddenly, and he let out a shout that seemed forced from his throat as his eyes rolled back into his head for a moment. Steve feared that he might have a seizure of some kind, but the convlusion was over quickly as Bucky stared listlessly ahead.
"Thank you, Buck...but I can get by on my own." There was the scrawny boy, that time he had looked...sad.
"The thing is, you don't have to. I'm-"
The splitting pain in his head was enormous, and Bucky hadn't realized he was screaming until he'd woken to find the man-Captain America-staring down at him wide-eyed and speaking frantically.
If he could remember those words...if he could remember...but if that was his memory, then...didn't that make him-
"Bucky! We're gonna be late, stop being such a girl!"
"Shut up, punk. I'd be doin' the ladies a disservice if I didn't show up lookin' my best."
"By best...you mean like Frankenstein instead of the Wolf-man?" Steve teased.
"Whatever. I'm naturally awesome and I know it." Bucky drawled.
"You're something alright." Steve snorted.
Bucky primped a second more before he held out his hands and grinned. "How do I look?"
Steve appraised his friend, they were on their way to one of his cousins' weddings, and Bucky had decided to invite Steve along. He'd been reticent at first, [shouldn't you take a chick, Buck?] but Bucky had insisted that flying solo with women was a bad habit and he'd rather have his best friend and wingman beside him. And Bucky had insisted that Steve would find a girl, but he knew that was a lie. He'd play along though, and he couldn't be bitter about it. It wasn't Bucky's fault Steve was the way he was, and Bucky had to be the epitome of an ideal best friend. Better than, even. So what if he didn't get invited to dance? At least he was there.
That's what he told himself.
So he looked at Bucky, filled out and looking sharp at seventeen, hair slicked back and a carefree grin, and internally decided that Bucky was going to tempt even the bride to sin that night. What he said was, "Eh, not bad. I guess you'll do."
"Oh-ho," Bucky laughed before he caught Steve in a one-armed choke-hold, though not with any real force as he ruffled his best friend's hair. "That's high-praise from you, pal. You're usually so picky... I must practically be glowing."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Buck." Steve drawled, though he was grinning.
Bucky grinned in reply, and he whistled a jaunty tune as they headed out.
Steve had gotten the sense that Bucky wasn't real up for more interactions, so with a sad sigh, he started to turn away only to still as he felt a trembling hand grip the back hem of his shirt. Bucky had twisted his wrist back as far as it would go to stop him before he was out of reach.
Steve stopped and turned around in surprise, to find a flushed Bucky staring at him with tired eyes. And for the first time, he felt like he was seeing past the Winter Soldier's cold gaze. He saw something...human there. Tired, desperate even...confused...lost. An unspoken need lingered there. And the last words he expected, although he'd heard them many times before a lifetime ago, poured out of Bucky's mouth in low voice.
"How do I look?"
"What?" Steve whispered, his heart seemed to have stopped a moment. Because he was sure, he was so damned sure that this was a glimpse of Bucky shining through and it was hope and vindication for his efforts all rolled into one.
Bucky's gaze seemed uncertainly suddenly, but Steve wouldn't let him retreat into his shell that easily. "You look like a million bucks. Buck." he smiled and brought his hand down. He tentatively slid it into Bucky's, and gave it a firm squeeze as he held it for a moment. Steve expected Bucky to jerk away from the contact, but instead, Bucky gripped his hand almost painfully tight.
"Look your best." Bucky advised, and he didn't really seem aware that he was speaking. His gaze was just fixed on Steve, and the words were spoken without real inflection, like he was reading aloud from a book. But they were Bucky's words.
Steve felt a lump form in his throat and he blinked away the sudden water in his eyes. "I'll try. You'll still end up looking better though. You always do." he chuckled, bittersweet. That was the sort of honesty he wouldn't have given Bucky then, he would have just made a joke.
The grip on his hand tightened slightly more, and Bucky seemed to try to tug Steve closer which was difficult given his restraints. Steve obliged and stepped right beside the bed. Bucky stared up at him, and he looked all of the sudden like a lost little kid to Steve. Like he was looking for an answer to a question he didn't know how to ask, and Steve was going to have that answer. But Bucky said nothing, and Steve lifted a hand to gently brush back some of the mess of hair that surrounded Bucky's face.
"Ugh...my hair's getting too long." Steve griped at twelve while the boys sat in the summer heat, sweating and tired. "Mom doesn't have money for the barber right now though."
Bucky eyed his friend before he sat up and held out a hand. "Gimme some scissors."
Steve shirked. "You want me to trust you with something sharp and pointy? You don't know how to cut hair anyway."
"Sure I do. Grab the hair and cut. Snip, snip, snip." he mimed it in the air. "It's not rocket science, Steve." Bucky rolled his eyes with a smirk. "Scissors." he made a grab motion.
Steve hesistated and then relented.
"Scootch over." Bucky got behind Steve and examined him a moment before he got to work. When all was said and done, the cut wasn't exactly...even. But it was passable. Not as bad as Steve expected, anyway.
Bucky admired his handiwork with a grin. "Who needs a barber shop when your best friend is a genius?"
"Since mine's not I guess I still need a barber shop." Steve quipped.
Any one else, and Bucky would have probably started a fight. But with Steve, it was always allowed and taken fondly. "I'll remember that next time, ya furball." he ruffled Steve's newly chopped hair. He considered it a moment and then passed the scissors to Steve. "Now you do mine."
Steve's eyes widened in surprise. Bucky was really touchy about his hair. And his family wasn't wealthy or anything, but he could afford the barber. "But, Bucky-
Bucky plopped down in front of him. "C'mon. Fair is fair."
When it was done, Bucky had a decidedly nice, even cut except for one little bit that Steve's hand slipped on...but in the end, Bucky grinned and clapped Steve's shoulder. "Well, what the Hell, may as well make it a tradition. We'll just cut each other's hair. Keep each other in line."
"Really?"
Bucky shrugged. "Why not? I like it better the way you do it anyway."
Steve doubted that was true, but he appreciated Bucky's covert kindness anyway. Then again, since it was Bucky, it might also be true enough. "It's a deal." he said, and he held out his hand.
Bucky blinked and grinned as he clapped their hands together and shook them firmly. "Deal, pal."
"Snip, snip, snip." Bucky muttered as Steve tousled his hair.
Steve's lips twisted and then tightened as he forced himself to keep an even smile. "That's right, pal. Hey, that's not a bad idea, right? Maybe later we'll deal with this mop you call hair." he chanced a tease lightly, and held his breath for the response.
He didn't think he'd get one at first, but then Bucky mumbled. "Deal, pal..."
Steve's heart really did catch that time. That had seemed less like a recitation and more like a response. "Bucky...?" But Bucky's mumbled words had been an indication it seemed, and Bucky, exhausted, had fallen asleep.
Steve stared down at the broken, battered man in the bed before him. And for a moment, he could see Bucky's grin, could hear his deep laugh, the lilting accent when he sang. Could hear him.
"Smile, Steve. It makes my heart ache when you look all mopey."
"Liar."
Bucky clutched his heart in mock-agony. "The paiiin, the paaai-oh, there we go. I can breathe again." he gave sigh of relief as he grinned at Steve, who had, as always, given in.
Steve felt a single tear on his cheek as he experienced a feeling he hadn't thought he'd feel again. It was like coming home. And this brief, wonderful moment proved that Bruce had been right. There was hope.
There was a chance.
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
I was supposed to have gone to bed three hours ago...but...oh well. XD It ended pretty sappily, but after all the death threats and psychosis, I think the Captain needed it. Bucky's just all worn out. Aww, they're so cute. 3 Reviews are like verbal hugs for meee. Thanks for reading! Enjoy!~Witchy~