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[ It's Tuesday in Avengers Tower.

A lot of the particulars of this arrangement had gone over his head, given that he'd been all but catatonic from shock and exhaustion through half of it (turns out using the Cube for a major temporal displacement actually took a lot of energy from the bearer, in this case him) but it seemed to include a lot of shouting and posturing while he'd suffered a fatal disconnect over which Steve he was supposed to back up, the tiny angry one or the big angry one. But the gist of it, explained by Howard Stark's son, is this: the Tesseract fucks with time, and sometimes deigns to answers wishes. Even those not spoken out loud. One flash of blue light later it had dumped all four of them here in the future in some kind of 'temporal bubble,' whatever the fuck that was, and it's keeping them here indefinitely.

Stark promises he's working on fixing it, but the future has things like inhalers and endless amounts of hot water, so there's that. Bucky's not in any big freaking hurry to head back to the war front in any case, even if being stuck here means staring at the frankly terrifying person who is supposedly future-him, or one possible version of future-him.

They're all under what's effectively house arrest in Stark's future robot building, given leave to go wherever they want in the Tower. They've all got their own bedrooms, their own kitchens, even their own floors if they want them, but Bucky had shown up at younger Steve's door at first opportunity and hadn't left him since.

(Part of him thought that maybe, maybe he should be throwing in with the other one, the older one with shadows under his eyes and a look on his face like someone had just kicked him in the stomach, the one Bucky remembered from Europe, but stress had brought on one of Stevie's attacks and Bucky couldn't leave him alone for that.)

He'd been kicked out eventually, though, told to go do his worrying and hovering somewhere else and take his stupid glowing alien box with him, which meant that Steve wanted some space to be upset in peace and that was fine, that was all fine, Brooklyn Steve didn't really know him since he'd been taken off to the camp and. Yeah. He's different. He's killed a lot of people since then, has watched his best friend waffle between science experiment, propaganda darling and one man army with maybe 10% of the training he needs to do the jobs they've got him doing. He's got a glowing alien box that always comes back to him, no matter how he tries to get rid of it. It bothers Steve that he's different. Not a one of them really know each other right now.

He drifts into the kitchen out of lack of anything better to do, still dressed in yesterday's clothes because he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep while Steve rasped in the bed next to him, mechanically opening cabinets and going through drawers, staring in something like hopeless frustration at the array of supposed edibles. The packages are all brightly colored and there are three kinds of everything, all declared to be low-fat or pure organic or a good source of vitamin whatever, like it wasn't possible for a guy to just get milk anymore without having to make some kind of choice about it. The labels are in every kind of language possible, of which he can only read three with his fragmentary French, Italian, and German. There's butter, more than he knows what to do with, and real meat, impossibly fresh, and the house robot has told him that if there's anything he wants that isn't there, he just has to ask for it and it'll be delivered.

All he wants is a goddamn loaf of bread and some cheese to make a sandwich, jesus. ]

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[ Ugh. Bucky cuts off the crusts, as promised, and absently starts piling high a second second sandwich. He's got nothing on older Steve when it comes to appetite, but he's changed. He doesn't notice the hunger as much now until it creeps up on him and blindsides him. ]

And I'm saying that guy? That ain't me. I don't think that guy even knows his own name half the time, much less yours.

[ He's never called his future self by his name. It's 'that guy,' or 'him,' or anything Bucky can get away with to disassociate. ]

I'm saying that guy is you.

[ There's a difference, small as it is. Steve takes the first sandwich with a sigh, hefting himself up gingerly onto the counters. His Ma woulda had a fit about it, but well, sitting on the counters isn't doing a thing here where everything is shiny steel and marble. ]

Did either of them tell you what happened to him?

[ shortly, ]

They told me enough to know he ain't safe. He's a ticking bomb.

Edited 2014-11-03 07:12 (UTC)

He isn't -- you aren't that.

[ He's on the edge of being pissed, now, hands fisted tight, shoulders angled tight, braced up like he's ready for a fight. ]

[ goddammit steve ]

Well I would know, wouldn't I? Better 'n anyone else here.

[ he sounds spiteful and petty even to his own ears, and half turns away from steve like he knows that's a low thing to say. ]

Obviously not, if you're being an idiot about it.

[ Get it through your thick skull, asshole. Steve sets his jaw, stubborn down to his bones. ]

You're the one so dead set on calling yourself a monster when no one else is.

Eat your goddamned sandwich.

[ he takes a huge bite of his own, chewing angrily. ]

Yeah, that's what I thought. He gets real sore just like you do, when I'm right.

[ aka fuck u barnes, he's eating his goddamn sandwich. ]

[ and promptly chokes ]

You-- were you talking to him?!

[ you're a goddamn tool and he's not even dignifying this with a response.

Instead, he digs into his sandwich and chews, slow and deliberate, watching Bucky. ]

[ SLOWLY PUTS THE SANDWICH DOWN ]

Steve.

[ PRIMLY, ]

There a problem, ma?

You know goddamn well there's a problem!

[ Steve stands, grabbing some saran wrap for one of the sandwich halves, wrapping it up. ]

I've got somewhere to be. When you get your knickers outta their twist, you know where to find me.

[ ATTEMPTING TO LOOM ]

You do not have anywhere to be.

[ Wow, totally unimpressed. Steve looks down his nose at him as best as he can, lacking a few feet on this other version of himself, but goddamn does he try. ]

Don't you try and do this, Barnes, I'm not gonna roll over just 'cause you get your knickers in a twist.

I don't want you to roll over, I want you to stay away from that thing. Bad enough I got the alien box popping up on my bedside table-- [ in Steve's room, exactly the last place he'd ever want it ]-- every time I try and dump it in the garbage, I don't need you waving red flags at bulls.

[ That's it, he's outtie. Steve gives him a look like he's just insulted his fucking mother and grabs the hastily wrapped sandwiches and heads out of there, intent on doing anything else but dealing with this right now. If Bucky wants to talk shit about himself, fine, but Steve doesn't have to listen, thank you. ]