dappered | (no subject)

[ 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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I am.

[ Well, more or less. He's not quite sure what it's supposed to feel like anymore, but he's very sure that he comes very close to it when he's around Bucky, when they're connecting with each other and Steve's entire world comes down to just him alone.

It doesn't matter that it's difficult, that it's painful and rough for them both -- and most especially for Bucky. Steve can dismiss his own struggles, because none of it can match up to what Bucky's been through all these years. Steve had failed him, and he has to make up for it.

He reaches out after a moment, hesitant before he puts his hand on Bucky's, flesh over metal (that arm had sickened him at first, especially after he'd realized the agony Bucky had been put through for it, the excruciating pain, the terror). But now, it's a part of him that Steve has come to love, too, for the sole reason that it's a part of him.

Steve hasn't touched him in a long, long time, and a part of him fears that Bucky will bolt -- but he has to take that chance. He attempts to smile, his eyes warm, tender. ] You make me happy. Or at least something pretty close to it -- but mine shouldn't matter as much as yours.

[ he tenses as steve reaches out to him, but he doesn't leave, doesn't pull away from the weight of his hand. it's - funny, in a hilariously unfunny way, that simple gestures like these are what make his chest tight and his face warm. seventy years of torture and mutilation, both on him and by him, and he wades through the guilt and fear of all that every single day - but it's the simple touches and gestures that do this to him, take him from a malfunctioning tool to something close to real. the younger steve does it too, both of them, because steve rogers has always held the things that keep him human.

he hates that this is what makes him feel like he might cry. it's all so stupid.

his brows furrow and his lips can't decide on frowning or smiling or simply pursing into a line, but he doesn't pull away. he stares at their hands and tries to force himself to relax and unclench his fingers, so that his hand is rested beneath steve's. not returning the touch, because he doesn't trust himself enough for that just yet, but accepting steve's as okay for now. ]

We don't have the best track record for shouldn't.

[ it's a joke, sort of, even if it comes out in a deadpan. there's lots of things they shouldn't've done, shouldn't've been, shouldn't even be here - but here, they are, ( sort of ) holding hands like a pair of saps and reminding each other that they care more about the other than anything else in the whole of creation. that there's four of 'em now doesn't seem to have changed that fact.

so maybe it is a little funny. some'a the most dangerous men alive, and they're hiding away, cooing over each other. fuckin' nerds. ]

It matters. But I'll try.

[ It's a small victory to know that Bucky doesn't draw away from him. The feeling of smooth metal underneath his fingertips is unfamiliar but not off-putting; he knows he can get used to this again, that this is Bucky, now. Sometimes he misses when they were younger -- the times back then weren't easy, but they were simpler. Steve had Bucky, he had nothing else but, and everything else to prove to the world that saw little guys like them as liabilities, people to be stepped on.

He makes a soft noise under his breath, a half-chuckle as he squeezes his hand very gently. His touch lingers, before he pulls away to push the plate back to him. They have time, he wants to tell him. They have time with each other now, and all that Bucky needs to re-learn himself, to re-learn them. There are many things that he's sure he doesn't remember, but it doesn't matter. It'll come back to him, and Steve will make sure of it.

This is okay. This is as far as they can go -- Steve doesn't want to push too far, and his smile is wider, happier when he takes another drink from his cup. ]

Yeah, we don't. [ His eyes are wistful, now -- they were so many things they shouldn't be, not in the world they were in, and to know it makes his heart ache even now. ] I remember how you used to get me out of trouble. Finished some of my fights for me as well.

[ And hey, they can coo at each other like the giant nerds that they are -- they're the youngest-looking old men alive. That Bucky is trying is important to him, and maybe soon, soon, Steve could hope for more. ] C'mon, finish it up, you still haven't told me if you liked it.

[ drawn like a magnet, his hand moves the second steve's does in the same direction before he realizes what he's doing and immediately pulls it off the table entirely, tucked safely into his lap. safe for steve, mostly; reaching for him is an instinct, one he has near constantly and keeps having to tamp down. it's confusing and alarming and only ever makes sense when he sees bucky jostling one or the other playfully.

he wants to touch steve like that too, but he has to learn how. he has to learn so many things. ]

S'alright.

[ like humor and teasing. he even manages to look up at steve for this joke, even though it's still deadpanned and his hands are in his lap like a chastised child. baby steps. ]

Thank you.

[ Baby steps.

Steve pretends not to notice, because the quickest way to make Bucky retreat is, of course, to call attention to it. Bucky's trying, of course, they all know that, and he appreciates it. They'll take it slow, and Steve will show him that it's okay to to touch him, a little at a time.

He smiles at that, because he catches that one, amused. ]

Ready for those seconds, huh? [ He pats his shoulder and starts to make one more, because God knows Bucky's metabolism works just like his does, too. ] Have you spoken to the other... us, yet?

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/gently smushes them together c:

C:

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