entrancelogs | words are all we have

Entry tags:

words are all we have

Who: Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes
Where: Room 728
When: 4/20
Rating: R (for non-sexual nudity)
Summary: Steve checks into Bucky's recovery methods, and the two of them learn some more about how they fit together.
The Story:
Steve doesn't hold Cami's stance of doctor-patient confidentiality against her. It's really a good thing that she wouldn't go blabbing about Bucky's case to anyone who asked, and that goes for any other patients she has too. Steve realizes that he's doing things the hard way, going around and asking other people instead of just directing those question to Bucky himself, but it's complicated. He doesn't think Bucky would out-and-out lie to him, but he's not sure that he'd tell the whole truth either.

Still, Steve's pretty much been left with no choice, and it's about time that he was an adult and stopped dancing around the subject. He doesn't want every interaction with Bucky to be about how he's coping, but maybe it's okay every once in and while.

He just has to figure out how to go about it, and while Steve might be resistant to the idea of therapy for himself, there are other ways to unwind. He doesn't take baths very often, used to the efficiency that a shower provides, but here in Wonderland he doesn't have to worry about that thing. So he draws a bath, the water almost scalding hot because that's the way he likes it, and then he eases in, letting out a sigh of relief as the tension starts to seep out of his muscles.

It's after a few minutes spent trying to read a book and not being able to get past the first page that Steve grabs for his phone, which he'd set nearby. Calling would maybe be the more direct way to do this, but instead he goes for a text message. Bucky sometimes does better with those, since he's given time to think of a response.

Did you see the announcement that Cami made today?

There. It pretty clearly forecasts what he's aiming to talk about, so there won't be any surprises.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

James is right next door, stretched out on the couch in his room playing tug-of-war with Dodger. There are any number of things he could be doing at the moment, with a demon lurking around, injuring and killing a little too close to home. Stopping the demon isn't one of those things. He's watched from afar and gathered a fair amount of information from the network posts, but all that's been able to tell him is that the situation is beyond his ability. Dean has a brother and a host of others from his world who clearly have a more personal investment and a more fundamental grasp of how to handle him, so James has agreed to stay out of it. He's warded rooms and checked on the others periodically, almost religiously. He tries to consider it standby, rather than something useless.

Mostly, he's stayed close enough to hear Steve shuffling around in the other room. Steve is arguably the most capable of taking care of himself, of everyone that James has come to know, but James still feels the somewhat irrational need to be near him most of all.

His phone buzzes on the coffee table, and he lets Dodger have the chew toy in favor of checking the message. It's not a distress call, but he still eases into sitting up and switches the phone into his right hand, his brow furrowed. He's seen her announcement. He was careful to reply to it privately. It's not that he minds that Steve knows about therapy - he's the one who told him in the first place, after all - but privacy was a luxury that he's been learning to live with again. There are some things he wants to discuss on his on terms.

Yeah. What did she tell you?

Steve really wishes that he hasn't reached a point where he's almost used to someone in the mansion deciding that they need to murder people left and right. First with Angelus, and now this, and it's always some supernatural force that he doesn't know nearly enough about, and that other people already have handled. Steve doesn't want to step on anyone's toes, but he can see that people are beginning to lose their patience and he doesn't blame them.

He may be reckless, but he's not dumb enough to go hunting down Dean when he has no way of stopping him. He's done what he can to keep his room protected, though he doesn't see why Dean would have any reason to go after him, seeing how they spoke all of once.

Steve isn't actually aware of where Bucky is. He could always use his super hearing to tell if he was in his room at any given time, but Bucky is quiet, and even when he isn't, Steve doesn't think it's right to spy on him like that. So he's not aware of their close proximity as he kicks his feet up on the lip of the bath and then grabs his phone when it vibrates with a surprisingly quick response.

Bucky just cuts right to the chase, doesn't he? Steve's mouth twists to the side and he types a reply.

Nothing. She wouldn't even tell me if you'd gone to see her. Which is the right thing to do, so I guess this is me asking if you have. Or how much you have.

He sighs, reads over the rambling message, and then sends a follow up.

But you don't have to.

The first thing he feels is relief. Sharing a particular experience with someone doesn't mean they can be intrinsically trusted, and for all that he thinks she's genuine about her commitment to her work, Steve's big harmless puppy eyes tend to get past a lot of defenses. He flags her post so he can come back to it later. The fact that Steve instinctively trusts her too is a point in her favor. Still...

Good. I didn't tell you about her so you could check up on me through her.

He's not really mad this time just - frustrated. James looks at his phone like it's personally betrayed him, and stands up to pace. He knows Steve is just trying to look out for him and he hasn't exactly given him a lot of other options in that department. It used to be that they talked to each other about everything but it's been a slow and painful road forward, now that they aren't what they were. Steve can still tell when he's hiding something, no matter what, and James can tell the same about him, but he's less forthcoming with his secrets, just like Steve is less forthcoming with his burdens.

He supposes they need to do something about that.

Look - I know we haven't talked about a lot of things, and I know I'm not exactly forthcoming

so

He doesn't really know where to go from there, but he sort of does, too.

This texting thing is ridiculous. Give me a minute.

He steps through the door between their rooms, shutting it silently behind him. He heads unerringly for the washroom - he'd heard the water running earlier, and while it's unlike Steve to soak in the bath, he hadn't heard him leave.

The first comment reads a whole lot like a reprimand, and it's enough to fill Steve with shame. It's not like he'd meant to be going around behind Bucky's back or anything, but that must be what it feels like to him. Steve is halfway to typing out an apology, and whatever good the bath did for his muscles has just as quickly been undone. What had he been thinking, starting this up now?

Before he can get the apology text sent out, a few more come in from Bucky, with him trying to explain himself -- except that it looks like it isn't any easier for him to do that when it's written down.

Granted, this definitely isn't the sort of conversation to have at a distance, though Steve hadn't realized it would escalate this quickly. He isn't entirely sure what Bucky means by that last text, and he's only halfway to figuring it out when he hears some movement from the adjacent room -- his living area.

Steve sighs and sets his phone aside.

"Just -- just give me a second." Apparently this talk has to happen now, which means he'll need to cut his bath short. He reaches forward and plunges his hand in the water to pull the plug.

James lets himself in. If the door was locked, he didn't notice, preoccupied as he was with the conversation at hand. It's only when he's standing fully clothed in Steve's bathroom that he fully registers that this is possibly not the best time or place for a lengthy conversation. The look on Steve's face is something shifting between scandalized, exasperated, and completely done.

It's not like they haven't seen each other naked in all sorts of contexts - it's not anything really new or particularly shocking. Steve is handsome and athletic and all of those things people value objectively, James knows. He really knows. He doesn't think sex is what he wants at the moment but he wants Steve like a fire wants a forest sometimes, with a hungry, destructive kind of need.

"Uh," He manages, shifting his weight a little. "I didn't really think this through but..."

It's like this a lot between them, he thinks. Him with all of his protective layers and Steve stripped down to his skin, ready to drop anything to help or to let him run all over again.

"Don't get out," He says. He doesn't let himself think about it. He shrugs out of his flannel, his shoulder holsters, pulls his t-shirt over his head...

When the water has only barely started to drain out, Bucky makes it into the bathroom, and the stiff way that he stands there says enough on its own, without Bucky admitting to it himself. These days Bucky is usually so calculating, so careful with every action he takes or word he says, that it's almost refreshing to watch him falter like this. To realize that he can now act on an instinct that isn't the result of years of conditioning.

Though that doesn't make the situation any easier to navigate. When Bucky tells him to stay put and then starts to strip, Steve is left to stare, mouth hanging open for a second before he remembers himself and clamps it shut. It doesn't register for a few seconds, what's going on, but this sequence of events can really only mean one thing, which is that Bucky is going to join him in the tub.

What are you doing, he wants to say, but his mouth has gone dry. Besides, it's not like Steve necessarily wants to discourage this. He doesn't think he's seen Bucky in anything less than long sleeves since he came back, although he hadn't fully realized it until this moment.

Steve places the plug back into the drain, though his eyes catch on Bucky again when he spots the ring of scar tissue circled around his arm, where metal attaches to flesh. Bucky doesn't scar anymore, which means that he got those before...

Instead of saying anything, Steve's gaze moves from Bucky to the bath and back again. "I'm not so sure both of us can fit..."

James doesn't see it, but he feels Steve staring. He makes himself finish what he's started, dropping weapons in between layers of clothing in a pile on the floor. Even now, it's sometimes hard to be so possessive of his body that he might feel anything in particular about being dressed or undressed. All he feels is the itch to put his back to a wall, to cover the scars Steve doesn't know. It makes him feel more naked than anything else, knowing there's freshly scabbed skin near the ridge of his shoulder where the metal meets skin, and Steve will see it.

James doesn't say anything. He steps into the hot bath, and sinks down, shifting until his back is pressed against Steve's chest. Even with the water that's run out, some of it sloshes over the sides. The tub is huge by all standards he remembers, but not so huge that he could sit across from Steve, even if he wanted to. His whole body is tense. He feels ridiculously stupid and at the same time, a little like he needs to press up against every inch of Steve and soak the warmth out of him until it fills the hollows of his bones.

"Is this okay?"

As much as Bucky does to hide it, Steve remains aware of how he keeps himself armed at all times. What he hadn't known was just how many knives he kept on his person at one time. Steve has seen what Bucky is capable of doing with just one knife; he wonders why he feels the need to have multiples. Even his arm alone could do plenty of damage. But it's a security thing. Though a set of knives has to be the weirdest security blanket that Steve has ever heard of.

He doesn't comment on that, because the fact that Bucky is here doing this at all is a huge deal and he'd rather not scare him away somehow. Although when Bucky commits to something, he isn't one to backpedal on it. Sure enough, he approaches the tub, and Steve spreads his legs out to either side of it so that there's an open space for Bucky to sit. Once he's settled, Steve lets out a sigh, not thinking about all of the parts of them that are pressed up against each other because this isn't about that.

It's about trust. It's about Bucky letting Steve see him naked at all, stripped down like this when he's vulnerable enough even when covered in layers.

"It's perfect," he says, placing both hands tentatively on Bucky's back and then sliding them up to his shoulders. He doesn't even flinch at the coldness of the metal. "It's okay. You can relax." If that's even possible, but Steve would like to hope that it is. He eases back against the slope of the tub, gently pulling Bucky with him.

James has been a weapon for a long time. It's second nature to him, to carry as much as he can, to be as prepared as he can be for eventualities. But it's also second nature to pursue relentlessly. When he has a target sighted, he doesn't like to pause to re-collect weapons or re-load them. He's like any bullet; unstoppable and merciless.

Leaving all of his weapons in one place, out of reach, it feels a lot like shedding a protective skin. There's a staccato intake of breath as Steve says perfect, and James can feel his hands on him. He remembers being touched like this, distant as it is. He tries to relax, letting Steve pull him back until they're settled.

"'Feels good," He murmurs, letting Steve's hands settle where they please without resistance. He doesn't know if it's good so much as not bad but he doesn't want Steve to stop. He still doesn't think that sex is what he wants at the moment, though he's thought about it on and off over the past few months. He thinks what he wants is something exactly like this, and sex would have been a means to this end.

The way Steve sees it, if Bucky ever does end up wanting to have sex again, it won't be for a long time still. Yes, they've kissed now, sharing one on Bucky's birthday, but it had been a way of showing affection rather than because of some deep-seated desire that Bucky had to act on. So even though they're both naked in a bath together now, Steve can't see it going anywhere steamy.

If Bucky gets to a point where he wants it, Steve assumes he'll make that known.

For now, this is more than Steve could have expected, and he lets his arms drape over Bucky's shoulders, his hands dangling near his chest. It's all done loosely so that Bucky doesn't have to feel like he's being restricted, and for now they can just lay here and talk, at least until the water gets cold.

"Okay, so back to what you were saying before... or texting, whatever." He wants to give Bucky the chance to express himself, and it might be a little easier for him to do that, seeing how he doesn't have to look Steve in the eye right now.

James exhales slowly. Steve's arms are loose and heavy on his shoulders, not at all like restraints. He reaches for Steve's hand with his and traces his fingers idly across the backs of Steve's knuckles, the names of bones trailing through his mind. He'd liked Steve's hands when he was younger and smaller, too. Maybe he was seeing them through the crush he'd been nursing, but he doesn't think it really makes a difference. He doesn't need to be rational about the things he likes.

"Texting. Who comes up with a word like that?" James murmurs. He tries to keep to saying things like this to Steve, for no reason other than having someone else understand where he's coming from. It also gives him a moment to get his thoughts together again. "I was just saying... I get why you'd ask around about me. It's my own fault. But if you've got to ask, I really -- I need you to ask me. I'm not gonna lie. I just don't know how getting into any of that is gonna do any good."

Edited 2015-04-24 21:50 (UTC)

It's such a small gesture, Bucky's fingers tracing slightly over the bones in his hand, but to Steve it means a lot. The thing is that there's nothing necessary in what Bucky is doing. He's touching him because he feels like it, like with each bit of contact he can remember Steve all over again, and it's nice. They're far beyond what any two friends would be doing now, but that stopped mattering a long time ago. Bucky may not be ready to act on those memories of some of the things that they did here in Wonderland, but he still has them.

The complaint about modern vernacular causes a low laugh to work its way through Steve's chest and he shakes his head. "Have you heard of selfies yet?" That's another one that people seem to have gotten up in arms about for whatever reason. Language evolves -- it's just a matter of keeping up with it.

Bucky shifts back to the point he'd been trying to make before, and Steve lets out a long, deflating sigh as he nods his head. "I guess it's hard to ask, sometimes. And I don't want to be bothering you about it all the time, either. But I'll come straight to you next time, so..."

May as well cut to the chase. "Have you been going to see her?"

He can feel Steve's laugh all the way through him. Some of the tension eases out of him, his eyes falling half-shut as the warm water starts doing its job.

He hums a negative answer to the first question. He assumes it's a phone thing, but he has no idea what. He can't think of any particular function a word like that would cover. His hand stills on Steve's though he doesn't pull away.

"I saw her once. We talked a little bit, got to know each other. I'll probably go back now that she's settled in with her own space." He tilts his head back a little, letting the tension bleed out of his neck. "I dunno if it's gonna make a difference, but it's easier to talk her. I mean it's not -- she's not personally invested. When I tell you things, I know you're gonna feel like it was your fault."

Bucky doesn't know what a selfie is?

Someone hasn't been doing their job, if that's the case, and Steve doesn't know if it's him or one of their other friends who actually grew up in the modern age. He pulls one arm up to reach out for his phone, even as he listens to Bucky's answer. When Bucky tilts his head back, his hair brushes against Steve's chest, tickling him, and he represses another laugh. This isn't a very lighthearted topic, so it's not really the time for it.

"No, I get it. I mean... that's the point of therapy, to talk to someone who isn't directly involved in what you're dealing with." Steve absolutely shouldn't be Bucky's therapist, he's self-aware enough to know that, but he's been doing what he can to help all the same. Maybe it'll be easier for them to just function as friends if Bucky has another outlet, and so Steve's relieved that he's considering going to Cami regularly now. "So I think it's a good idea." For what that's worth, but Steve's pretty sure it's worth a lot.

At that point, he swipes his thumb and opens up the camera on his phone, flipping it around to face them in what he hopes is a decent angle. He doesn't take a lot of these. "Here, look at my phone. This is a selfie." Bucky doesn't have to smile and probably won't, but still, this is an important lesson, whether they're naked in a bathtub or not.

It's a relief that Steve really seems to understand, even though James feels like he has a hard time articulating it. It's even better that Steve seems to approve of it all. Regardless of how things worsen or - more often - improve between them, he still values Steve's opinion. It means a lot to him that Steve sees whatever effort he's making as positive. James feels like he has no idea what he's doing sometimes, so a second opinion from someone he can trust is important.

He shifts a little to let Steve reach for his phone and settles down again. The camera is pointed at the murky water around their feet for a moment, and then -- oh. James doesn't smile. He wrinkles his nose a little, tilting his head for a better angle in the camera. "Is that what I look like? It's like beauty and the beast all over again."

He tips his head back, now fully leaning on Steve's shoulder. He doesn't know or care particularly if Steve wants to take the picture, but he's not making it easy, either. "You take a lot of selfies?"

Given the heavy subject matter, taking a selfie is a pretty seamless way to break up some of the tension, although when Bucky starts adjusting himself so that he looks better in the frame, Steve can only laugh again. He'd always been this way, and it's good to see that some things never change. So vain.

"Give yourself a little more credit," Steve mumbles as he reaches out to smooth some of Bucky's hair back for the picture. Given that they're taking this while sharing a bath, it's not like they'll actually be sharing it with many people, but as their first selfie he also wants it to look nice.

Steve snaps the photo and then pulls his phone forward to make sure that it turned out okay. Once it passes his inspection, he places his phone down again and shrugs, wrapping an arm around Bucky's shoulders now that he's leaned against him this way. "Not really, no. But it's still something you've gotta learn about if you don't want people calling you a geezer."

James snorts, but he doesn't try to argue. He closes his eyes and lets Steve fuss with his hair, which looks maybe marginally better pulled away from his face. He doesn't really understand what Steve sees in him that makes him want to do things like this. It's not really about looks. James understands, more or less, that he could be relatively handsome. The picture itself isn't a bad one, but he doesn't really know what to say about it so he just hums lightly and lets it be. Steve looks happy. That's all he needs out of it. He doesn't want to look at it any longer than he wants to look in mirrors these days. His body is the relic of wars long passed. He heals over without scars, pristine, like a field of ordinance. Everything ugly is just under the skin, waiting.

Steve's arm goes around his shoulders and James feels his chest constrict a little, but it's alright. He moves his hand over a little to find Steve's thigh under the water, skimming idly over skin, to remind himself that he can. He's not strapped down. There aren't any knives near enough to reach, and for a moment that's a very comforting thing.

"Uh huh. I'm sure no one calls you a geezer anymore, especially not Nat."

Edited 2015-04-29 00:30 (UTC)

Bucky may not want to look at the picture, but for Steve it's a pretty big deal. It's a symbol of how far they've come, at least, given that at the start of all this Bucky had barely been able to handle being in the same room as him. He may just make that photo his phone background later on. Which might make for a greater chance of someone else seeing it, but it's not like people are usually messing around with his phone -- and even if they do see it, he doesn't actually have much to hide.

The touch at his thigh isn't muted any by the presence of the water, and it comes suddenly enough that Steve almost jerks upward in shock. Even now, with both of them naked and leaning against each other, he still isn't used to Bucky deliberately touching him. With a sigh, he shifts his arm that's around Bucky's shoulders so that he can idly work at the muscles bunched up at the back of Bucky's neck.

"Well, Natasha is in a category all her own," Steve points out. Most of the other people here don't make senior citizen jokes, thankfully. Though it would be a very different story if Tony was still around. "And no matter how old we get, you'll always be older than me, so I think I can handle whatever she has to say." It's a light tease, something to counteract the more serious subject they'd been on before.

Edited 2015-04-29 14:12 (UTC)

He feels Steve tense up at the touch and draws his hand away, almost casually. He doesn't have long to take it apart and figure out where he went wrong, because a moment later Steve's hands are on the back of his neck, pressing in.

When he finally exhales, a few moments later, it's a long, drawn-out sound.

"I've got a comeback but..." He doesn't entirely bite back a soft moan as Steve's fingers dig into a knot. He's pretty tense all on his own, but then he has to compensate for the weight of the arm and the support structures hidden under his skin. It tends to build up. He tilts his head forward and shifts a little into Steve's touch. "This is definitely cheating."

For some reason, Steve hadn't been prepared for such a vocal reaction to the kneading movements of his fingers. It's not often that Bucky is that outwardly responsive to anything, really, but just a few seconds of massaging has already given Steve a good idea of how tense and wound up Bucky is -- not just mentally, but physically.

He's long overdue for a massage like this, and so without another word, Steve sets his hands on Bucky's shoulders and shifts him around until they're back-to chest again. That gives him better access to use both hands, and while it may be "cheating," it should also do Bucky a whole lot of good.

"The weight takes a toll, right? Even for you." Steve's hand brushes over the metal arm for a moment, even though it should be obvious what he's talking about. His fingers press into Bucky's flesh, working through the forest of knots hidden under the skin around his shoulders, neck, and upper back. He doubts HYDRA bothered to give him any kind of treatment like this (why would they, for a weapon?), but Steve is wondering if they should make this a habit.

"If you just touched my arm, I can't actually feel it," James murmurs. He can feel the way Steve shifts behind him, however, and that's a pretty clear indication. He shrugs his right shoulder. "It's not that bad. You get used to it."

He doesn't think he's lying, exactly. It's just another thing that he doesn't want Steve to fret over. As much as he might want to tear the damn thing off some days, it's useful. It's better than going without. He lets Steve pull him however he pleases, focusing on the way his fingers find and dig right into the worst of the knots. Non-violent touch has been an uphill struggle, but at the moment he wants to arch into Steve's fingers like a cat.

"Back when they first put it on, the rest of my body couldn't handle the impact. Even with the serum, I'd get stress fractures, that kinda thing. It was slowing me down, so they went back in and re-enforced some of my bones. Nothing to worry about now." There are some half-aborted sounds punctuating the words, but James mostly manages to keep any more moaning to himself. He sounds half-asleep, his body steadily relaxing, but he's still trying to re-assure Steve that he's fine. "So how am I gonna repay you for this?"

Bucky may not be able to feel anything but pressure on that arm, but that won't stop Steve from touching it when he gets the chance. He realizes that Bucky has only ever used the prosthetic for one thing, and that's to kill or batter or maim. It may be impossible for him to ever see it as anything but another weapon, seeing how that's what it was made for, but Steve would still like to help him get more used to people interacting with it in a different context.

There's a jarring contrast between what they're doing. On one hand, they've got Steve's hands gliding over Bucky's skin, the warmth of the water and their bodies mingling. On the other? Bucky is telling him horrific stories of his time as HYDRA's pet project, all in a tone that makes it pretty damn obvious that he doesn't fully comprehend how terrible it really is.

"You don't have to repay me," Steve says, his reply clipped and almost curt because he can't believe Bucky would even ask that after what he's just shared with him. Steve sighs, ceasing in his massaging when he realizes that he's probably letting the tension he feels bleed into his actions, and he doesn't accidentally want to hurt Bucky. "What do you mean, nothing to worry about? Bucky, they went in and changed you on a fundamental level, to make you more capable of doing their dirty work. Is it a coping mechanism for you, to act like this stuff isn't deeply traumatizing?"

Bucky had asked Steve to come directly to him with his concerns, so that's what he's going to do. There's no more avoiding the subject. He's going to face it head-on, no matter how hard it might be.

His body straightens slightly at Steve's tone. It would be a lie to say he had been thinking purely in terms of a balanced relationship, but it's difficult to keep accepting that Steve will let him have one good thing after another without expecting anything from him, ever. He knows, logically, that Steve doesn't do anything expecting some kind of compensation, but it takes more than a few months to undo years worth of careful conditioning.

Steve draws his hands away from his skin and James feels something in his stomach drop. He feels fragile and stupid and naked in a way that has nothing to do with clothing. He hadn't really thought it was that big of a deal, in the grand scheme of things. It wasn't even torture, just practical maintenance. It wasn't personal, none of it really was. He had been convenient, he had survived an experiment by some fluke, and then he had paid for it.

"Maybe it is, okay? What else am I gonna do, Steve?" There's a bitterness in his tone, heavy and resigned. "You think I don't wish every goddamn day that I could just go back and die on that fucking river bank? There isn't any part of me that HYDRA hasn't tainted. There isn't any part of my body that feels like it belongs to me. If it's going to change one day, that day hasn't come yet, so whatever gets me out of bed in the morning is good enough. Is that what you want to hear? Does that make it better?"

Edited 2015-05-11 18:19 (UTC)

It's not like Steve really feels anything like relief when the dam finally breaks. He knows that it's something that had to happen eventually, that he was going to one day need to push Bucky to this for his own good (because bottling it up, that can't be healthy either), but the words still cut into his skin, twist around inside him, make him feel breathless with too much empathy for the agony that he doomed Bucky to.

It hurts, too, to hear that Bucky wishes he could have died back then. Can Steve blame him, knowing what he'd had to endure because he'd lived? Of course Bucky would want all of those deaths he's responsible for to be undone, if they could be, but it still isn't easy to have his best friend tell him that he'd rather be dead. Steve's throat tightens like he's got a pipe jammed down it and he goes still as a statue in the water, hands hanging in the air because he has no idea where to put them.

"At least you're admitting it," he says, and his tone is quiet and subdued to counteract all of the understandable anger in Bucky's. "You're allowed to talk about this." It may be difficult for Steve to have to listen to, but he's only getting it secondhand. This is Bucky's life, this is the pain that he's contending with on a daily basis, and if Steve can bear even a small amount of that weight? Then he wants to.

He doesn't move, but he doesn't pull Bucky any closer either, just directs all of his words at his bare back. "That's my point, all right? You can tell me about this stuff and you can acknowledge how bad it is." There must be some sort of release in getting it out there. It must make it at least a little bit easier, for Bucky to be able to say all this and not have Steve look at him like he's a monster, or a tool.

"And... if we can work on reclaiming your body, that'd be good too." How to do that, exactly, Steve doesn't know. But it seems like what they did here today might be a decent start.

James is silent for a long moment. He doesn't know if admitting it has really done anything. He doesn't feel better in some way. All of the tension has set in again, and there's a sick, hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. He doesn't need to see Steve to know that he's upset. He's thinking over everything James has said and blaming himself for not being there to stop it. He'd thought he could protect Steve from that, if nothing else.

There's no way to pretend that the things that were done to him, the things he did, didn't happen -- but he'd thought he could bury the effect they have on him now, like the scars his body no longer carries.

It's not just Steve he's been trying to protect. There's a certain kind of shame in admitting that he isn't anywhere near fine, even in a moment of thoughtlessness and spite. It's been months. He answers to his name and caries on whole conversations. He's smiled, he's laughed, he's joked around. He's felt okay, even good sometimes. But he still wakes up screaming in the middle of the night. He still spends whole days in bed, wishing his nonexistence had been more complete. He still knows the particular cold, wishful press of a gun barrel under his chin.

At least he's admitting it, Steve says. So really, he isn't fooling anyone but himself.

He cards his fingers into his hair like he's going to rake it out of his face, but instead his hand stops short, and he pulls at it, a habit borne of frustration. Acknowledge how bad it is. Reclaim his body. He laughs, a short, bitter, slightly hysterical sound.

"How? I could carve my name and serial number into the arm I've got left and it would be gone in a day. I didn't ask for this, I didn't want this... I can't..."

Edited 2015-05-17 01:17 (UTC)

Between the way that Bucky tugs at his hair like he wants to yank it all out from the root as a way of punishment and that manic bark of a laugh, this may the most outwardly broken that he's been since he got back. Steve's seen Bucky stare off into space, physically present but mentally absent. He's seen Bucky lash out on instinct, like when he'd almost broken his wrist, accidental though the action had been.

But this is something else, a kind of unraveling that Bucky hasn't allowed Steve to see until now, and while he wishes that he could take back everything in this conversation that led to this, maybe it's important that he sees it.

When Bucky begins babbling, Steve makes soft shushing sounds and reaches out for Bucky's hand, which is still clutching at his too-long hair. Gentle as he can, he pulls his hand toward him by the wrist and starts to kiss over it, starting at the tips of his fingers and then down to the knuckles, over the back of it and then around to the palm before pausing at Bucky's pulse point.

"Like this," he says, his breath hushed and warm against Bucky's wrist. He doesn't know if his touch is really enough to heal or reclaim anything, but he has to try.

James hears his voice breaking on a no, though it's nonsensical, more instinctive than anything. He almost pulls his hand away, but Steve's touch is gentle and firm and James is too tired and broken to do anything but let him coax his hand away from his hair. Then he feels something warm, and it takes him a too-long moment to realize that it's Steve's breath on his fingers and Steve's lips there, too.

James turns a little, disbelieving even when he sees it. His chest is still heaving, his eyes a little wide, but his breathing slowly evens out as Steve kisses along his hand. He's almost glad that he can't crane his neck enough to see the expression on Steve's face, because the gesture communicates so much that he doesn't think he could stand more than that.

Maybe it doesn't heal, but the way Steve touches him is full of a nearly biblical kind of grace. He doesn't know how Steve can touch him like that and not taste every foul thing he's ever done. Maybe he does. Or maybe all he can taste is James' skin, ordinary in every way.

James sinks back against him, his breath still hitching a little. He's long past shame, but he thinks Steve will do him the favor of pretending not to notice.

"Can-- Can we go to bed?"

Everything in Bucky's reaction -- the way his eyes have gone slightly wide, the way that his breath is caught in his throat -- broadcasts that it's been a long time since anyone has shown him this kind of affection. He hasn't been treated with anything approaching compassion in recent memory. No, he hasn't been treated like a person would be the more accurate way to say it.

This isn't the first time that they've been physical. They shared a kiss on Bucky's birthday, but it hadn't been quite so intimate as this. Right now their bodies are pressed up against each other, and they're alone, unseen by anyone else in the mansion.

Even then, Steve isn't entirely prepared for the question, though he hardly hesitates in his response. "Sure," he says softly as he reaches past Bucky to unplug the drain. The water slowly starts to recede around them, and Steve can only hope that a small amount of Bucky's trauma is going with it.

Steve stands up out of the water and then grabs for the towels hanging from the rack nearby, handing one over to Bucky. He steps out of the tub, drying himself off as he goes. When he looks back and sees Bucky still seated there in the dirty water, he somehow looks so small, despite the fact that his bulk fills up the space no problem.

Steve moves back over in the space of a second, his towel now draped over his shoulders, and reaches down to pick Bucky up out of the bath. He's not sure if Bucky will actually let him full-on carry him, but either way he wants to be there to support his weight.

James is only peripherally aware of time passing. Steve gets up first, then James has the towel in his hands and the cool air is raising goosebumps on his still-damp skin. He knows what to do, but there's a disconnect somewhere, like a cut wire. He watches the water drain out of his left arm and tries not to think of flushing blood out of the joints in his fingers.

Steve leans over at some point, and James instinctively shifts as directed. He doesn't really know what he's expecting until Steve gets an arm under his knees, then another around his back, and lifts him bodily out of the tub. Their's a brief flash of startled confusion before his expression clears and he has the presence of mind to put an arm around Steve's shoulders and tuck his face against Steve's neck. He thinks he should make some smartass comment right about now, but nothing comes to mind. Even when he glances at the discarded pile of his things on the floor, he doesn't feel the need to scramble to get them right then. Not as much as he usually does, anyway.

His fingers curl a little against Steve's shoulder, but he doesn't protest. He just holds on and lets Steve carry him back to his room. He doesn't feel useful exactly, but it's a little bit like that. He feels -- wanted, he thinks. That's what it is. He's too tired to fight being selfish. He lets himself have this small amount of warmth, just for the moment.

"When you do stuff like this, it makes it hard to feel sorry I ruined your bath."

Steve had honestly figured that Bucky would resist the attempt to pick him up, would maybe just brace his hands on his shoulders and push himself up that way -- so when he actually goes along with it there's a split second where Steve isn't sure what to do. Bucky's arms looping around his shoulders makes it simple enough, though, and Steve straightens up, not caring that Bucky's dripping all over the place.

He'll clean it up later.

It would probably look ridiculous to anyone who saw them right now, Steve carrying a grown man with an imposing metal arm and a build to match it. That arm adds a lot to Bucky's weight too, but Steve barely feels it and there's something nice about realizing that he's strong enough to carry him around like this -- daintily, even.

Given everything that Bucky's done, the crimes that he sees himself responsible for, this is something entirely out of left field. But that's part of why Steve did it. Small actions like this should go a long way to helping Bucky feel human again.

"You didn't ruin it," Steve says with an exaggerated sigh as he steps out of the bathroom and over to the bed. He sets Bucky down and tries not to be so gentle about it that he takes offense. Once he's laid out there, Steve fixes him with a fond smile, the kind he used to give him when Bucky told a joke and Steve didn't want to admit it was funny. "I'm glad you came over. Really." They may have argued some, but maybe they needed to.

He sits up as soon as Steve sets him down. He's glad he managed to hang on to the towel, because neither of them are going to want to sleep in the wet spot he's leaving on Steve's bed. He starts patting his skin down, working his way back up to the ends of his hair.

He's not even looking at Steve right at that particular moment, but he feels like he knows every change in expression. He feels halfway human again, just knowing that he remembers the particular look of that smile with a clarity of detail that would make any artist envious. Then again, he used to spend a lot of time looking at Steve's face. He still does, when he thinks Steve isn't looking.

"You're a big sap, Rogers." He drops the towel back into his lap and reaches for Steve's face. He supposes he could stand up, but it's just as easy to pull Steve down and press a quick, close-mouthed kiss to his lips. "I appreciate it. It's not that I don't want to talk to you -- I guess I just hate that you've gotta carry the whole world and me, too."

Steve hadn't even spared one thought to how wet his bed might end up getting with Bucky dripping all over it. A wet spot isn't going to stop him from sharing the space with him if that's what Bucky wants, and he hasn't exactly been shy about that today. Not like the other times when he'll show up in the middle of the night, fall onto Steve's mattress for a few hours, and then be gone again before Steve wakes up in the morning.

Maybe this time around he'll actually sleep through the night. Wouldn't that be something?

Steve is a big sap when it comes to Bucky and he would never deny that, although he's still thrown off when he's pulled into the kiss, even if it only lasts for a second. There's something more casual about it, almost routine, that gives it extra meaning, and Steve's got a smile stuck on his face as he settles onto the bed.

"I've got super strength, remember?" he shoots back as he settles against the headboard. "And besides, I've never thought of you as a burden." He tilts his head to meet Bucky's gaze, his eyes wide open and intense as he adds: "I never will."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

words are all we have

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject