A/N: This chapter was written a while ago, but I wasn't quite happy with it. I'm still not 100%, but I want to get the story moving again while I have time to update, so it goes up as is for now.
Also- PROGRESS! We're finally past the army camp!
Their arrival in London is predictably grey and wet. Not surprisingly, Peggy and Fallsworth both seem right at home, gushing about how good it is to be back on their home soil... but Steve finds it kind of dreary. He supposes he should just be glad he doesn't have the treacherous lungs he was born with or aching beginnings of arthritis anymore. Weather like this would've had him in fits at this time last year.
Bucky, with a couple of other rescued prisoners that Steve only sort-of recognizes, end up setting off to explore on their own, shortly after arrival. He's not sure how they got permission, but given everything Buck's been through lately maybe the higher-ups just finally felt sorry for the poor guy. Either way, Bucky seems pretty eager to get going, so Steve just smiles and makes Bucky agree to put in a good word with the local girls for him. Peggy rolls her eyes at him for that.
Bucky promises lightly that they'll all meet up at a pub later that night and he'll do his level best to get Steve good and plastered in a real celebration of his promotion to Captain. Seeing Bucky smiling, teasing, laughing...the whole thing takes some of the edge off of Steve's nerves. Bucky almost seems like himself again, barely looks haunted at all, and Steve tells himself for the thousandth time that Buck will be ok. He's still just rattled, and with time he'll be fine.
They still haven't talked about Bucky's scare the other day, though Steve keeps promising himself that he will. The time has never felt quite right to bring it up and he'd swear Bucky's got a sixth sense for when he's trying to feel out an opportunity. The guy always manages to just up and vanish anytime Steve's finally ready to have it out.
Bucky looks better, though. He does… Bucky's probably fine.
He's going to be ok.
...Maybe if he repeats it enough, it'll start being true.
Steve watches them go wistfully.
Exploring sounds a lot better than what he'll be doing all day, and he's still a little uneasy about letting his best friend out of his sight after what happened the last time he did.
Quit bein' such a mother hen, y'little twit. he hears Bucky's voice grumble in his head, and that draws a reluctant smile out of him.
He says nothing, but sketches a little salute when Bucky turns and grins at him before vanishing up the stairs toward the street, his escorts in tow.
Steve stands for a long moment as the door swing shut behind them and wishes for probably the 20th time that he were going with them... But he's already ducking a medal ceremony that he could care less about, just to be here so he can provide intel for the allies. They're not too likely to let him go play hooky with his friends instead of doing his damned job.
Besides, if he kicks up a fuss they may try to drag Bucky and the others back to pump them for information instead, and that crew deserves some R&R after everything they've been through. Steve will just have to suck it up and take one for the team...
When the war is over, Steve promises himself idly, they'll go on vacation. Just him and Buck. Maybe Peggy, if he she wants to come along. They'll travel the whole country just the way they always talked about doing someday - when they had money. Maybe they'll even go see the Grand Canyon… Bucky's always wanted to go there.
He smiles, imagining it. Bucky plays cool so well, but he's a sucker for natural beauty. Always has been. He'd had a habit of collecting old calendar pages and Steve's sketches, pinning up pretty landscapes over his bed at home. Buck'd go nuts for canyons and clear skies as far as the eye can see. He'd be a kid in a candy-store. And he'd smile -really smile- again...
This whole mess will be just a bad dream and nothing more.
Steve can't wait.
For now, though, it's all damp stone walls and staring at maps, carefully placing marker pins where there are HYDRA bases. It's telling a room full of stern faces everything that could possibly be relevant; and ignoring the couple of cheap shots that one of the generals makes about his 'fighting tights'.
It's uncomfortable public speaking and it's boring as hell, but it beats getting shot at.
He marshals his wandering thoughts, buckles down, and gives them everything he's got.
He distantly hopes the others are having more fun than he is, at least.
Somebody ought to be.