Bucky Barnes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
readytocomply) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2016-11-13 05:23 pm
readytocomply) wrote in entrancelogs2016-11-13 05:23 pm
Entry tags:
| closed | we look up at the same stars
Who: Bucky and Steve
Where: Various
When: After the event
Rating: Will update as needed
Summary: Catching up and figuring things out
The Story:
[One hundred and seventy-five days - over six months - half a year - since he'd woken up in that orchard.
Time meant something different for people like Bucky and Steve. In and out of cryo, decades under ice. They haven't talked about that, the displacement, but he knows Steve understands how he feels. They don't have to talk about a lot because, somehow, Steve always knows. He knows when he needs company and when he doesn't. Knows what to say when Bucky's head is twisted up. Bucky's convinced that there's not really anybody else that could get him like his best friend does. They grew up together. Years and war and violence didn't take away what made them them.
It wasn't always easy, Bucky blames himself for that. His guilt, what he does and doesn't think he deserves, it all puts pressure on how quickly he adjusts here. He'd had time before Wonderland, it hadn't been enough. The days here have been good for him, mostly, better than a lot before it. He's opened up to a few people, and even put himself out there, but there's a cycle he seems to have fallen into. Start to let someone in, hold the walls down just for a second, and then push the other person away. They deserve better and he deserves less. He hates that he's this way but he can't figure out how to stop it.
He wants to let people touch him - he used to be tactile, enjoying affection and attention - now he flinches away from it. Bucky's found himself in situations here that allowed for it, briefly, and even though he'd been happy with it in the moment, he'd regretted it after. He could hurt people that get too close and he should have been strong enough to keep to himself. He might need people, but they sure as hell didn't need him. At least he tells himself that. But Steve's stubborn, a constant. He's right there, never far. Most times, Bucky could stretch out an arm and touch him. He doesn't, but he thinks about it sometimes, wants to. He stays in Steve's room, still, and will until Steve doesn't want that anymore. Curled up on the couch with Dodger and Sugar, sometimes tucked between the wall and a piece of furniture on worse days, and more often now, curled up by Steve.
It's a good day today.
He wakes up naturally, and it's disorienting, though not unwelcome. Bucky remembers what he'd asked Steve, replays that conversation over and over in his mind - all the others after it. He's realized that he's been looking at this all wrong, listening to Steve but not letting it sink in. This isn't, couldn't be, something brand new or a fresh start. There's too much history and honestly, Bucky doesn't want that. He asks the closets for a bottle of its finest alcohol and two glasses, setting them on the table in Steve's room. Bucky texts Steve to ask him about getting that drink, tells him to meet him in his room if he's available. He'd considered the fifth floor bar, but it was too out in the open for Bucky to ever get comfortable. He even tries to look nice, as good as he can without a mirror, hair pulled back into a bun, and showered. It's probably not the best he's ever looked, but it's a start and Steve likes him the way he is. No pretenses.
When the door open, Bucky's standing, shoulders tense though he tries to relax.]
Hey, Steve.
[His eyes flick down to that bottle and those glasses, back up to blue with a hint of green.]
Where: Various
When: After the event
Rating: Will update as needed
Summary: Catching up and figuring things out
The Story:
[One hundred and seventy-five days - over six months - half a year - since he'd woken up in that orchard.
Time meant something different for people like Bucky and Steve. In and out of cryo, decades under ice. They haven't talked about that, the displacement, but he knows Steve understands how he feels. They don't have to talk about a lot because, somehow, Steve always knows. He knows when he needs company and when he doesn't. Knows what to say when Bucky's head is twisted up. Bucky's convinced that there's not really anybody else that could get him like his best friend does. They grew up together. Years and war and violence didn't take away what made them them.
It wasn't always easy, Bucky blames himself for that. His guilt, what he does and doesn't think he deserves, it all puts pressure on how quickly he adjusts here. He'd had time before Wonderland, it hadn't been enough. The days here have been good for him, mostly, better than a lot before it. He's opened up to a few people, and even put himself out there, but there's a cycle he seems to have fallen into. Start to let someone in, hold the walls down just for a second, and then push the other person away. They deserve better and he deserves less. He hates that he's this way but he can't figure out how to stop it.
He wants to let people touch him - he used to be tactile, enjoying affection and attention - now he flinches away from it. Bucky's found himself in situations here that allowed for it, briefly, and even though he'd been happy with it in the moment, he'd regretted it after. He could hurt people that get too close and he should have been strong enough to keep to himself. He might need people, but they sure as hell didn't need him. At least he tells himself that. But Steve's stubborn, a constant. He's right there, never far. Most times, Bucky could stretch out an arm and touch him. He doesn't, but he thinks about it sometimes, wants to. He stays in Steve's room, still, and will until Steve doesn't want that anymore. Curled up on the couch with Dodger and Sugar, sometimes tucked between the wall and a piece of furniture on worse days, and more often now, curled up by Steve.
It's a good day today.
He wakes up naturally, and it's disorienting, though not unwelcome. Bucky remembers what he'd asked Steve, replays that conversation over and over in his mind - all the others after it. He's realized that he's been looking at this all wrong, listening to Steve but not letting it sink in. This isn't, couldn't be, something brand new or a fresh start. There's too much history and honestly, Bucky doesn't want that. He asks the closets for a bottle of its finest alcohol and two glasses, setting them on the table in Steve's room. Bucky texts Steve to ask him about getting that drink, tells him to meet him in his room if he's available. He'd considered the fifth floor bar, but it was too out in the open for Bucky to ever get comfortable. He even tries to look nice, as good as he can without a mirror, hair pulled back into a bun, and showered. It's probably not the best he's ever looked, but it's a start and Steve likes him the way he is. No pretenses.
When the door open, Bucky's standing, shoulders tense though he tries to relax.]
Hey, Steve.
[His eyes flick down to that bottle and those glasses, back up to blue with a hint of green.]