(no subject)

[bottledblond]

Not every universe in the far and wide cosmos is as lucky (however unlucky itself that seems) to encounter Thanos during a time where people live who can do something about it. Steve Rogers, a particular version of Steve Rogers who had only just suffered through his first night of basic training in New Jersey as part of the Army’s Project Rebirth and thus had not yet become Captain America, bent to untie his shoes and saw his hands begin to disintegrate. He doesn’t panic, panicking is for people who do not live like every breath is their last. Instead, he blinks in surprise as the barracks fill with shouting. He has time to contemplate two things. One, he wishes he’d done more with his life. And two, he hopes Bucky will do all right.

He’s still thinking about that last issue when he exhales his last in a universe where Captain America never existed and finishes it bent over in the ruins of the barracks, roof half open to the sky and walls a burnt and ashy gray.

It takes him an hour to get to the road and by then, his asthma is already getting the best of him. He blacks out for the second time ‘that day’ and wakes up staring at the ceiling of what is obviously a hospital.

It just doesn’t sound or smell like a hospital. Sure. People are running around and yelling, but it smells painfully clean, artificially so, and there are machines he’s never seen before connected by wires to his body. He does the thing people should never do and yanks them loose. The machines squawk strangely and frantically and Steve is almost out of bed when two large men in green pajamas force him back.

Nothing makes sense to him for days. People come to talk to him, to find out who he is and who his family is. Evidently Steve Rogers is a popular name, because they bring in more people to talk to him, to ask him questions about his life, but no one has any answers.

He explodes, as he’s wont to do when frustrated, demands answers, but nothing they say makes sense.

By then, the war is over. Not World War II, which has evidently been over for over half a century, but this new war. And Bucky Barnes had been told of his presence. Steve is in bed, arms crossed, looking dour and getting an infusion of something that honestly is helping him breathe better when Bucky bursts into his now private room. It’s been two months

Comments

[woundedwinter]

"What? No, no it's not that kind of therapy." He takes a moment because it didn't exist all those years ago. "When I was the Winter Solider, I didn't know who I was. I didn't remember anything. They scrambled my brains with.." he huffs because that isn't important.

"Going to therapy helps me get things back in order. In my head."

[bottledblond]

“So it would be a good idea if I come,” Steve says, fixated for some reason on the thought that, perhaps, he could be part of the solution for Bucky.

The guy he remembers used to focus so much attention on him that Steve had felt smothered at times but he knows from his own life experience that having a project to focus on (like getting into the Army by any means necessary) could be just the thing for Bucky.

“I’ll just sit in the waiting room and read the paper:” His mind will be blown by magazines.

[woundedwinter]

She's gonna have to find out about Steve sooner or later and better that it comes from him. Maybe she'll leave the stupid notebook alone for the session.

Ha. Like that'll happen.

"Okay pal. If you wanna come and wait you can. I usually get lunch after. You can pick where we go."

[bottledblond]

“I literally don’t know what there is,” Steve just wants to point out, pulling back his hands because he’s been holding onto Bucky’s for a long time now. “I’ve never been picky.”

He couldn’t afford to be, of course.

Art supplies left on the table, Steve and Bucky head to Bucky’s therapist with Steve still fixated on all of the things that pass along the way. He can’t help himself. He smiles brightly at the woman at the desk, marvels at how bright and comfortable modern waiting rooms is, and when Bucky is called, he smiles at the dark haired woman at the door that gives him a narrow eyed once over.

She’s going to start with that in Barnes’ session.

[woundedwinter]

It's not one of their better sessions. Bucky is tense and uneasy already because he knows what she's going to say. That he has to tell others about Steve, that he can't consider him a replacement for the one who died.

He's not a replacement. This Steve is different from the one who became Cap, the same way he's different from Sargeant Barnes during the war.

And no way is he bringing Steve in for a session.

Bucky is tense and quiet when they leave. He normally gets sushi after a session but today he wants something different.

"There's a good burger place not far." He could use two burgers and a few beers.

[bottledblond]

Steve is quiet, thoughtful, and keeps glancing up at Bucky the way the man might remember him doing back in the Brooklyn of days gone by when he wants to make some speech or another. The blond holds his tongue, though.

The world they pass on foot has somehow become easier to navigate. Steve is just an adaptable person, sure, but the human brain can’t fixate on everything at once and it leaves the less important parts out.

Yes. People are dressed differently. Yes, their hair is strange. But Steve still sees them as people, and people in passing.

They’re a block away when Steve finally reaches out to grab Bucky’s arm. He’s out of breath. “Shorter legs than you, remember,” he asks, chest rising and falling rapidly. “Nothing chasing us.”

[woundedwinter]

The catch on his arm slows him down and he grimaces. "Shit. I'm sorry pal. I'm not always in the best place after that." He drags a hand across his face.

"We can take a bit if you need it."

He glances around out of habit, making sure no one is a threat or a problem.

[bottledblond]

“I don’t need it if you walk like a normal person,” Steve grumbles.

He’s not going to press for the reason Bucky is annoyed. He’s not going to ask any more questions right now. That’s not really the way it was done back then.

You don’t share like that.

“I’m actually pretty excited. Never had a hamburger before.” He’d never been able to afford ground meat.

[woundedwinter]

"I know, I know." And for Steve he summons a smile as they start walking at a more sedate pace.

He's going to pick up steaks too. Grill them out on the rooftop grill the residents had set up. Showing Steve all the great things about living so far from where they started cheers him up immediately.

It's a distraction sure, but a good one.

"Burgers with bacon and cheese and all the fries," he promises. "There are foods from other countries too. India, China, Japan. You're gonna love it."

[bottledblond]

“You’re making me feel like this is a date,” Steve says for reasons that utterly baffle him. It’s not something he should be joking about, not even in a public place where other people are rushing around them. No one is listening but it feels dangerous.

He puts a little pep in his step anyway, going as fast as his legs will let him. Honestly, that’s really not all that fast. He just wants an excuse to move.

“Not really sure what all is in those kinds of foods, but I’d like to try,” he attempts to continue the conversation, hoping the place they’re going his close.

His lungs hurt.

[woundedwinter]

He barks out a laugh as they keep walking. "You know that's a thing now, right? Being gay isn't a crime. Fellas can date fellas."

They may as well talk about that too.

"You'll love them. It's one of the best things in New York." Not that he'd had a chance to eat much of it during his time with HYDRA.

[bottledblond]

“Dating fellas?” They need to stop jumping around topics. More often than not, Bucky is just on a constant stint of breaking his mind. Steve’s stopped walking, and falls a pace or two behind if Bucky isn’t paying attention to his footfalls. He’ll catch up, or try to, but his lungs just feel like their ache is starting to spread into his chest.

He’s still not a well man. The medications and infusions, the corrective soles in his shoes and the contact lenses had gone a long way to fixing him up, but health isn’t always a look on the outside.

Steve swallows down the dryness.

“I think I need a history book. Or twelve.”

[woundedwinter]

He stops and turns back, his expression shifting to one of concern. "Stevie? Hey, come on. Let's sit for a second."

Later on he'll be upset at himself for not remembering to slow his pace for Steve, for forgetting he's still not at his strongest.

Even if Steve objects he's going to try to get him to sit on a bench and catch his breath.

"Yeah. I'll get you all the books you want." He rubs his forehead. "I'm sorry. I know I'm a fuckup today."

[bottledblond]

“Yeah... well I know I kind of just came back to life for you after five years missing... what? Ten years of memories?” And a capable, muscular, healthy body. Cant forget that. “I think we need a little time to figure it all out.”

The color in his cheeks retreats after a few moments, and Steve spends the time looking at everyone passing. New York has always been a hub of crazy hustle and bustle, but this is almost too much.

He’s going to need time to acclimate.

But he also wants a hamburger pretty darn badly.

“I’m okay. Sorry, thanks for waiting up,” Steve says, getting back to his feet.

It’s only when they’re seated in their second restaurant for the day sipping beers that Steve speaks up again. “I don’t want you to feel obligated with me, pal. You’ve got your own mess to get through. If you need time for yourself, Sam said I could call any time.”

[woundedwinter]

Bucky shakes his head, "No, I should be apologizing. The last few years I've been all tied up in my own head. People want me to figure out about eighty years of abuse and brainwashing and it's.."

Damnit. He's doing it again and Bucky pulls a face.

"It's hard but look, if you want to talk to Sam you can. You can call him anytime."

[bottledblond]

Steve wets his lips, his eyes on the evidently as ethnically pleasing cracks in the butcher block table. “I’m sorry, Buck.”

For Steve’s whole life, up until the night that Bucky shipped off, the guy has burdened his friend. Oh, he knows Bucky cares for him, would do anything for him, and maybe that’s the problem. Bucky doesn’t need a project because, as he just said, he’s trying to get through the abuse he’d suffered.

The guy was captured by the enemy, experimented on, lost his arm, was brain washed to kill the innocent, lost all of his friend, and now he’s dealing with a friend who remembers him from his early twenties before any of that bad stuff happened.

“I know this has got to be pretty bad for you. I’m glad you came to see me, though. Real glad. I was getting tired of no one giving me any answers and... that was the longest time in my life I’ve spent without you. I guess that’s not great to say when it’s been five years to my measly two months.”

[woundedwinter]

"No, no." Bucky reaches across the table to take his hand. "Steve, I'm happy that it's you who found his way home. This you, not someone else."

"My head is a mess," he admits. "But knowing I'll wake up to you.. it makes things better. Easier."

"I don't ever want you thinking that I'm not happy you're here or that I'm thinking of the other Steve when I'm looking at you."

[bottledblond]

“But why?“ He believes Bucky. They don’t lie to each other. To everyone else, sure. Steve had been pretty well known to make up a good lie or two along the way. If they ever didn’t want to tell the truth, they’d just say nothing at all.

Of course, that could have changed. Bucky isn’t the same guy he’d known but Steve had to believe he’s enough of that guy to trust that he’ll get the truth from him.

Guys can date guys these days, another thing Steve doesn’t question, so he doesn’t pull his hand back when their beers arrive and the waitress gives them some extra time with the menus.

“I’m not anything special, Buck. I’m the guy that happened before any of the special. It doesn’t make sense.”

[woundedwinter]

"Not anything special?" He's honestly knocked back on his heels at the question before taking the moment the waitress gives them to recover.

Not anything special. Bucky shifts his hand, grateful that Steve hasn't let go. "Pal, remembering the Steve from before the war was the only thing that got me through some of the darkest days of my life."

Bucky reaches for his beer before he goes and says something stupid, because those words are dancing on his lips, all but daring him to say it after so long.

[bottledblond]

Steve’s eyes shine in the dim light. He doesn’t know why all New York restaurants seem to have gotten so dark but he also doesn’t question it. The place is just another hole in the wall, nothing fancy, but it’s still done up in dark brick and no windows.

At least there aren’t candles on the table.

He’s got to admit. Bucky is a flatter. He squeezes the other man’s hand, wishing he didn’t feel the need to wear those gloves all the time.

“Technically, I did go to basic training so...” he draws out, teasing. “But all right. Your couch looks more comfortable than the hospital bed anyway. So I guess if you’ll have me, you can wake up to me snoring every night.”

[woundedwinter]

"Nah. You can take the bed," he offers with a grin. "I haven't been able to sleep in it more than an hour or two. So it's all yours pal."

Because living without Steve isn't something he's ready to consider. Later he'll talk to him about his nightmares but that's a few hours away.

"We're gonna figure this out, you and me. All of it."

[bottledblond]

“History books. And lots of questions with your picture screen,” Steve says, as his hand draws back and the waitress comes over. Her smile is kind, but not in the way that Steve is used to watching when someone waits on Bucky.

There’s no flirting at all. It’s so odd.

“What can I get you guys?”

Steve glances at the menu, but Bucky already basically decided on the street. “A burger. With bacon. And a lot of melted cheese. And French fries. Please.”

He’s not sure how hungry he is but he’ll humor Bucky and he wants the full hamburger experience.

“Tell you what,” he says when the waitress leaves. “Soon as you’re done camping on the floor, I’ll take the couch and you can have your bed back.”