And here Bucky’d had a hard time when Steve showed up to rescue the 107th, and Bucky finally had a breather afterwards on the way back to take a good long look at what Rebirth had done to his best friend. Now it’s like looking like a stranger all over, only this one looks like he’s weathered a couple shellings, really seen some shit…. but it’s the piercing blue eyes that settle it. Steve looks older, somehow, and rougher, but it’s Steve
And Steve looks as lost as Bucky feels. Did the same thing happen to him? Bucky wonders, and he’d bet his entire month’s paycheck that (of course), HYDRA’s got something to fucking do with it. Bucky can only give Steve’s hand a tight squeeze when he hears the way the words come out thick past a lump in Steve’s throat, and feels his own throat close a little just to hear the way Steve can’t quite the words out.
A large hand curls against his cheek, warm and familiar with that ache of home; you’d never, ever let any of the guys see another soldier touch you like this, and sure as hell not your CO, and sure as hell not Captain Rogers. With a soft sound, the breath gusted in a caress against Steve’s skin, the corner of Bucky’s mouth grazes against the rise of Steve’s palm as Bucky finds himself pressing into the touch.
“I’m here. Not going anywhere without you, got it?” comes out as natural as breathing. Bucky’s heart just about breaks when Steve Rogers, strongest guy Bucky’s ever known in his entire life, cracks. In the dim light cast from outside, Bucky can see the telltale glimmer threatening Steve’s eyes and feel the tremor through his hand. God, Steve, what happened?
He reaches up and swipes gently at the tears rolling down Steve’s cheeks with his knuckle, but then Steve’s sucking in a sharp breath and stepping back. Like he’s gotta hide, face whatever this is alone. Bucky curls his hand around Steve’s shoulders instead, and guides him to one of the booths tucked away in a shadowy corner, and kneeling, sits Steve down; the guy looks a little his legs might buckle, and this way, Bucky can look up at him, fingers tangled.
“I’m not KIA yet, so I guess I’m cooking with gas,” Bucky says, aiming for light. Even when it's the last thing he's feeling when Steve looks practically broken, and Bucky doesn't know how to slug for it. "Last thing I remember is we just finished with a HYDRA lab and I came here.” He’s never telling a living soul - much less Steve - that he really was thinking of giving in to those warm smiles that the blond bartender had shot his way a couple times. “Had a drink, closed my eyes, and I was here. But you - what’s going on with you? With all this?”
He motions towards the whole package - the hair, the beard, the clothes that aren't exactly Army reg, even as he dries Steve's eyes with a swipe of his thumb. Bucky's voice softens. "Come on, talk to me."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2022-04-12 03:53 am (UTC)And Steve looks as lost as Bucky feels. Did the same thing happen to him? Bucky wonders, and he’d bet his entire month’s paycheck that (of course), HYDRA’s got something to fucking do with it. Bucky can only give Steve’s hand a tight squeeze when he hears the way the words come out thick past a lump in Steve’s throat, and feels his own throat close a little just to hear the way Steve can’t quite the words out.
A large hand curls against his cheek, warm and familiar with that ache of home; you’d never, ever let any of the guys see another soldier touch you like this, and sure as hell not your CO, and sure as hell not Captain Rogers. With a soft sound, the breath gusted in a caress against Steve’s skin, the corner of Bucky’s mouth grazes against the rise of Steve’s palm as Bucky finds himself pressing into the touch.
“I’m here. Not going anywhere without you, got it?” comes out as natural as breathing. Bucky’s heart just about breaks when Steve Rogers, strongest guy Bucky’s ever known in his entire life, cracks. In the dim light cast from outside, Bucky can see the telltale glimmer threatening Steve’s eyes and feel the tremor through his hand. God, Steve, what happened?
He reaches up and swipes gently at the tears rolling down Steve’s cheeks with his knuckle, but then Steve’s sucking in a sharp breath and stepping back. Like he’s gotta hide, face whatever this is alone. Bucky curls his hand around Steve’s shoulders instead, and guides him to one of the booths tucked away in a shadowy corner, and kneeling, sits Steve down; the guy looks a little his legs might buckle, and this way, Bucky can look up at him, fingers tangled.
“I’m not KIA yet, so I guess I’m cooking with gas,” Bucky says, aiming for light. Even when it's the last thing he's feeling when Steve looks practically broken, and Bucky doesn't know how to slug for it. "Last thing I remember is we just finished with a HYDRA lab and I came here.” He’s never telling a living soul - much less Steve - that he really was thinking of giving in to those warm smiles that the blond bartender had shot his way a couple times. “Had a drink, closed my eyes, and I was here. But you - what’s going on with you? With all this?”
He motions towards the whole package - the hair, the beard, the clothes that aren't exactly Army reg, even as he dries Steve's eyes with a swipe of his thumb. Bucky's voice softens. "Come on, talk to me."