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.

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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."

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