words are all we have

[assembles]

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.

Comments

[assembles]

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.

[disassembles]

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?"

[assembles]

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.

[disassembles]

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."

[assembles]

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.

[disassembles]

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."

[assembles]

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."