Steve wants to argue that he knows exactly who Bucky is. He's the man who pulled Steve from the river when it would have been easier to let him drown. He's the man who dragged him here in the snow and who's trying to warm him up and feed him. Maybe he doesn't remember all those little details that make up Bucky, but he's still Bucky and it's plain as day to Steve. Coming here had been right.
He'd always hated being taken care of, because he'd always had to work twice as hard to prove himself to everyone around him. Taking help from Bucky is a little easier, because he'd never had to prove a thing to Bucky. Bucky had always just had his back. Even now, he seems to.
Moving closer, he soaks up the heat from the fire and settles in again before starting to remove his bag so he can set the shield against it. He rolls his shoulders to try to get rid of the stiffness he can feel there, but he knows they'll feel even worse tomorrow.
The cabin isn't luxurious by any means and its furniture has seen better days but it's dry and serviceable, and the walls hold the heat of the fire pretty well once it gets going. It's enough for Bucky's needs, and it'll have to be enough for his guest as well. At least the other man is dressed smartly for the weather — and doesn't seem to be in a rush to lose those outer layers. That's good, preserving the core temperature while the extremities heat up; good survival skill. He's either been trained or just has a good head on his shoulders.
Something tells Bucky it's both. He doesn't argue the feeling.
He sheds half of his own gear on the way to the kitchen, getting rid of both outer coat and gloves. It leaves his left hand on display but there's little enough need for secrecy about it, not right now. It also leaves on display some of the tactical gear he'd kept, the gun at his hip. He doesn't go anywhere unarmed, not if he can help it. Considering that he'd rented a hunting cabin, it isn't questioned.
Food is soup: instant, from a can, but it's warm and it's easy and really, he's eaten worse. He does at least have a thick, crusty bread to go with, something he'd picked up in the market while out gathering supplies. It doesn't take him long to prepare it, only a few minutes over the stove in the cabin's small kitchen, the meal ladled into two bowls in short order and Bucky returns immediately to the fireplace.
"Eat," he says simply, pressing a bowl and some bread into the other man's hands before sitting in one of the chairs that have seen better days. "Tell me why you're really here."
He takes the soup and the bread with a thankful smile and presses his hands against the hot bowl. It almost hurts, but it helps him get more feeling back in them, even with the strange pins and needles that shoot through them at the abrupt temperature change.
"I'm really looking for you. Why else would I be out here?" Steve watches Bucky carefully, because he wants to watch his reaction, but he's not scared and at no point does he let himself look like he is. He doesn't think he could ever be scared of Bucky. He'd only fought back when the world had literally depended on it. Now? He wouldn't fight Bucky even if Bucky had him at gunpoint. He can't.
"I don't know what you remember, but you and I were friends for a long time." They still are, he thinks, even if Bucky doesn't remember it at all. He will always be Steve's friend. "I want to help you. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, okay? I only want to help."
"Espionage. Infiltration. Elimination." Bucky rattles off the reasons matter-of-factly, like he's giving an upcoming weather forecast and not reasons to suspect of anyone coming after him. He's no naïve fool to think that Hydra isn't looking for him; they are. Sooner or later, they might even find him.
But that possibility doesn't automatically mean that what his companion says is untrue.
Bucky takes his time answering; the soup provides a good enough excuse for doing so. It's warm and thick, hearty enough for warming up on a cold night. He certainly feels fine physically, and has endured weather much worse than this, but that doesn't mean a hot meal isn't welcome.
"How are you going to keep me from getting hurt?" It's there that he finally chooses to start, because the insistence of friendship doesn't feel wrong, even though Bucky feels it's not exactly right. He's got to puzzle it out a little more, sort his own feelings on it before he begins to address it with this man. "How do you plan to help?"
It's not the easiest question to answer, but Steve knows he'll do whatever it takes, even if Bucky doesn't understand that yet. Steve would go to hell and back for Bucky. He knows he could have frozen to death out there if Bucky hadn't found him and it's a risk he'd taken, because there are no risks that aren't worth it where Bucky's concerned.
"If you come home with me, we'll find a way to clear everything up. We'll explain what happened." He puts his soup down and moves closer on the floor. "I know HYDRA made you do all of those things, Bucky. That isn't who you are."
If Bucky's face hadn't been proof enough for Steve, the fact that Bucky's been hiding instead of fighting says a lot, as does the fact that he'd dragged Steve out of the cold to feed him soup. Steve really can't tell if he remembers much, but he can still see Bucky so clearly in front of him.
"Where is home? Back to your SHIELD agency?" He shakes his head, but he's not doing anything to prevent Steve from coming closer. Bucky can't put his finger on exactly why, but he knows that there's no threat in proximity. It's not just that he could overpower his companion, it's tied up more up in those feelings that don't have a logical root, the ones he's still sorting out. "The agency that HYDRA controlled?"
No, he'll not return to any place that puts him at risk of contact with HYDRA, not like that. All it takes is a handful of words to have him compliant once more and Bucky refuses to go back to that, refuses to lose what little he's gained back. He doesn't wish to be anyone's tool ever again; what guarantee does he have that SHIELD wouldn't do much as HYDRA had done?
No, he doesn't trust them and he believes that he has a good reason for it. But that doesn't solve the problem of here and now: what to do with having been found and how to proceed from here. Something tells him that even if he ditches the other man come morning, it's not going to stop the pursuit.
That gives Steve pause. SHIELD isn't really SHIELD anymore and he's not so sure he can really ask the Avengers to take this on with him. Sam and Natasha have helped, but he's asked more than enough of them. Is that even his home? The Avengers are probably the closest he's had to one in a long time, but sitting here with warm soup and a fire and Bucky, he feels more at home than he has since the war.
"We can go somewhere else. Let me stay with you." It would have been a more compelling argument, he thinks, if he weren't stuck in his old body, but he'd have to go home to try to fix it and if he leaves, he doesn't know how long it will take to find Bucky next time. Captain America, at least, could offer some real protection in a fight. Steve Rogers like this can't offer much more than a chronic cough. It had been enough for Bucky back then, but he's not sure if things haven't changed in that regard, because now Bucky might need more.
Everything the serum gave him has always been a tool. It had never been who Steve was and that isn't changing now. The muscles never changed the man inside all that much, so Steve only wishes he had them because it would help him keep Bucky safe. Nothing less and nothing more.
"If you don't want to go back, we can stay here. We can go wherever you want to go, Buck. I just need you to stop running from me." If there's any amount of Bucky in there, Steve knows he'll listen and at least consider it. He hopes it means Bucky won't leave him here, because he's sore and cold and he still feels better than he's felt in years and he's not sure what he'll do if Bucky turns away from him now.
"You know I'm not HYDRA and you know I'd never do anything to help them, let alone give you to them. You know me."
"What would you even do here? With me?" Bucky's life isn't a life; it's a series of temporary situations, places he stays for a week, maybe two, before moving on. Transient. Drifting. The only solid thing is the notebook he keeps with him, the one that means everything to him because its few pages contain everything he knows.
The argument is not a compelling one; without Bucky stumbling upon him, he thinks that Steve might not have survived the storm. How is he expecting to survive anything that comes after? How does he think he's going to keep up with Bucky's lifestyle?
Does he even know how to be on the run, anonymous and entirely off the grid?
Bucky's silent for a long moment, looking into the fire instead of looking at Steve, lost in his thoughts. What shocks him back to the present is the realization that he's already calculating his supplies versus two people, looking at how long the food will last. How fast they could travel on foot. How effectively they could blend in. He all but shakes himself, pushing the thoughts away as Steve's words break through his contemplation. "I knew you once. Maybe. I don't know you now."
Eventually he stands to bring his bowl back into the kitchen, mostly to have something to do. He's restless, plans for a quiet night now disturbed, and he needs to recenter himself. He won't kick Steve out into the storm, that's cruel, but he also doesn't know what to do with the man.
Steve doesn't know what he'd do. He's not even all that useful like this and maybe he'll be stuck like this for a long time, but he won't leave Bucky to go fix it. Not when he knows Bucky won't be here when he comes back.
He sits here, watching Bucky with a steady gaze. The words don't throw him off. They don't make him second guess his choices one bit. He's still just as stubborn as he's always been.
"Well, I know you, Buck." The words are quiet as he watches Bucky retreat to the kitchen. "I've known you almost my whole life and I'm not going to abandon you now."
Standing up, he gathers his own dish and follows Bucky into the kitchen. Being small had never made him afraid of bigger men and he'll never be afraid of Bucky. Hell, he hadn't been afraid of Bucky when he probably shouldn't have been, but now? Bucky's not exactly showing signs of wanting to hurt Steve.
"I know you and you know me, even if you can't remember it all right now. I need you to trust me. Can you do that? Because I trust you."
There's work in the kitchen; it's the simple act of washing dishes but that doesn't matter because it's still something he can do with his hands, something solid and real and with a definite end goal. He doesn't even think about the action of reaching for Steve's dish to soap it down and place it in the drying rack. Maybe that says something but if so, he's not looking too closely at it.
He's also not looking too closely at the fact that he'd turned his back on Steve and known that an attack wouldn't come. It hadn't even taken a thought; he'd spared no time to the consideration of Steve's size and strength against his own. He'd simply known it was safe to show his back to the smaller man.
But still, it doesn't mean anything.
"You can stay tonight," he replies, brushing off the issues of trust and memory. "The morning will be better for figuring out what to do with you."
And for figuring out what to do in general. Bucky's not even sure what his own next step would have been, surprise visitor or not. He really is living as a transient and while that certainly does offer the flexibility of being able to move on easily and remain anonymous, it also means he still feels a little unmoored.
Steve huffs, but at least Bucky isn't fighting him right now. He'll make more headway in the morning, though, because if Bucky thinks Steve is going to give up after he gets some rest, he's got another thing coming.
"You mean for figuring out where we're going next?" His pack is on the floor where he'd left it. He has more supplies back in the hotel room he'd left this morning, but if they can't go back, then he'll make do. He's not leaving Bucky to get them. They're just things.
Watching Bucky be so domestic in the kitchen feels weird, if only because it's so familiar that it makes Steve's chest ache. Sure, Bucky looks a little different now, but he's still Bucky under all of that. It's as plain as day to Steve.
Steve can huff all he wants. Bucky isn't buying it, isn't impressed by it, and fully intends to continue with his plans to return Steve to wherever he was before this, and to continue on his own way. In the morning, when the weather is more suited to it. Already he can feel that the temperature has dropped with the coming of the night, and he's considering building up the fire even more. He's perfectly fine, but Steve is all of what, a hundred pounds? He'll catch a chill.
He's not sure why he cares.
Finishing with the dishes he turns his back to the sink, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms as he considers Steve and Steve's question. The cabin's simple layout does include a small bedroom; its linen closet had been well stocked with wool blankets. It's the logical choice.
"The bedroom," he replies; he'll be perfectly comfortable on the couch himself. "You should take a hot shower first. You still look half frozen."
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keepcruising2018-09-06 02:25 pm
no subject
He'd always hated being taken care of, because he'd always had to work twice as hard to prove himself to everyone around him. Taking help from Bucky is a little easier, because he'd never had to prove a thing to Bucky. Bucky had always just had his back. Even now, he seems to.
Moving closer, he soaks up the heat from the fire and settles in again before starting to remove his bag so he can set the shield against it. He rolls his shoulders to try to get rid of the stiffness he can feel there, but he knows they'll feel even worse tomorrow.
"Thanks, Buck."
no subject
Something tells Bucky it's both. He doesn't argue the feeling.
He sheds half of his own gear on the way to the kitchen, getting rid of both outer coat and gloves. It leaves his left hand on display but there's little enough need for secrecy about it, not right now. It also leaves on display some of the tactical gear he'd kept, the gun at his hip. He doesn't go anywhere unarmed, not if he can help it. Considering that he'd rented a hunting cabin, it isn't questioned.
Food is soup: instant, from a can, but it's warm and it's easy and really, he's eaten worse. He does at least have a thick, crusty bread to go with, something he'd picked up in the market while out gathering supplies. It doesn't take him long to prepare it, only a few minutes over the stove in the cabin's small kitchen, the meal ladled into two bowls in short order and Bucky returns immediately to the fireplace.
"Eat," he says simply, pressing a bowl and some bread into the other man's hands before sitting in one of the chairs that have seen better days. "Tell me why you're really here."
no subject
"I'm really looking for you. Why else would I be out here?" Steve watches Bucky carefully, because he wants to watch his reaction, but he's not scared and at no point does he let himself look like he is. He doesn't think he could ever be scared of Bucky. He'd only fought back when the world had literally depended on it. Now? He wouldn't fight Bucky even if Bucky had him at gunpoint. He can't.
"I don't know what you remember, but you and I were friends for a long time." They still are, he thinks, even if Bucky doesn't remember it at all. He will always be Steve's friend. "I want to help you. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, okay? I only want to help."
no subject
But that possibility doesn't automatically mean that what his companion says is untrue.
Bucky takes his time answering; the soup provides a good enough excuse for doing so. It's warm and thick, hearty enough for warming up on a cold night. He certainly feels fine physically, and has endured weather much worse than this, but that doesn't mean a hot meal isn't welcome.
"How are you going to keep me from getting hurt?" It's there that he finally chooses to start, because the insistence of friendship doesn't feel wrong, even though Bucky feels it's not exactly right. He's got to puzzle it out a little more, sort his own feelings on it before he begins to address it with this man. "How do you plan to help?"
no subject
"If you come home with me, we'll find a way to clear everything up. We'll explain what happened." He puts his soup down and moves closer on the floor. "I know HYDRA made you do all of those things, Bucky. That isn't who you are."
If Bucky's face hadn't been proof enough for Steve, the fact that Bucky's been hiding instead of fighting says a lot, as does the fact that he'd dragged Steve out of the cold to feed him soup. Steve really can't tell if he remembers much, but he can still see Bucky so clearly in front of him.
no subject
No, he'll not return to any place that puts him at risk of contact with HYDRA, not like that. All it takes is a handful of words to have him compliant once more and Bucky refuses to go back to that, refuses to lose what little he's gained back. He doesn't wish to be anyone's tool ever again; what guarantee does he have that SHIELD wouldn't do much as HYDRA had done?
No, he doesn't trust them and he believes that he has a good reason for it. But that doesn't solve the problem of here and now: what to do with having been found and how to proceed from here. Something tells him that even if he ditches the other man come morning, it's not going to stop the pursuit.
no subject
"We can go somewhere else. Let me stay with you." It would have been a more compelling argument, he thinks, if he weren't stuck in his old body, but he'd have to go home to try to fix it and if he leaves, he doesn't know how long it will take to find Bucky next time. Captain America, at least, could offer some real protection in a fight. Steve Rogers like this can't offer much more than a chronic cough. It had been enough for Bucky back then, but he's not sure if things haven't changed in that regard, because now Bucky might need more.
Everything the serum gave him has always been a tool. It had never been who Steve was and that isn't changing now. The muscles never changed the man inside all that much, so Steve only wishes he had them because it would help him keep Bucky safe. Nothing less and nothing more.
"If you don't want to go back, we can stay here. We can go wherever you want to go, Buck. I just need you to stop running from me." If there's any amount of Bucky in there, Steve knows he'll listen and at least consider it. He hopes it means Bucky won't leave him here, because he's sore and cold and he still feels better than he's felt in years and he's not sure what he'll do if Bucky turns away from him now.
"You know I'm not HYDRA and you know I'd never do anything to help them, let alone give you to them. You know me."
no subject
The argument is not a compelling one; without Bucky stumbling upon him, he thinks that Steve might not have survived the storm. How is he expecting to survive anything that comes after? How does he think he's going to keep up with Bucky's lifestyle?
Does he even know how to be on the run, anonymous and entirely off the grid?
Bucky's silent for a long moment, looking into the fire instead of looking at Steve, lost in his thoughts. What shocks him back to the present is the realization that he's already calculating his supplies versus two people, looking at how long the food will last. How fast they could travel on foot. How effectively they could blend in. He all but shakes himself, pushing the thoughts away as Steve's words break through his contemplation. "I knew you once. Maybe. I don't know you now."
Eventually he stands to bring his bowl back into the kitchen, mostly to have something to do. He's restless, plans for a quiet night now disturbed, and he needs to recenter himself. He won't kick Steve out into the storm, that's cruel, but he also doesn't know what to do with the man.
no subject
He sits here, watching Bucky with a steady gaze. The words don't throw him off. They don't make him second guess his choices one bit. He's still just as stubborn as he's always been.
"Well, I know you, Buck." The words are quiet as he watches Bucky retreat to the kitchen. "I've known you almost my whole life and I'm not going to abandon you now."
Standing up, he gathers his own dish and follows Bucky into the kitchen. Being small had never made him afraid of bigger men and he'll never be afraid of Bucky. Hell, he hadn't been afraid of Bucky when he probably shouldn't have been, but now? Bucky's not exactly showing signs of wanting to hurt Steve.
"I know you and you know me, even if you can't remember it all right now. I need you to trust me. Can you do that? Because I trust you."
no subject
He's also not looking too closely at the fact that he'd turned his back on Steve and known that an attack wouldn't come. It hadn't even taken a thought; he'd spared no time to the consideration of Steve's size and strength against his own. He'd simply known it was safe to show his back to the smaller man.
But still, it doesn't mean anything.
"You can stay tonight," he replies, brushing off the issues of trust and memory. "The morning will be better for figuring out what to do with you."
And for figuring out what to do in general. Bucky's not even sure what his own next step would have been, surprise visitor or not. He really is living as a transient and while that certainly does offer the flexibility of being able to move on easily and remain anonymous, it also means he still feels a little unmoored.
no subject
"You mean for figuring out where we're going next?" His pack is on the floor where he'd left it. He has more supplies back in the hotel room he'd left this morning, but if they can't go back, then he'll make do. He's not leaving Bucky to get them. They're just things.
Watching Bucky be so domestic in the kitchen feels weird, if only because it's so familiar that it makes Steve's chest ache. Sure, Bucky looks a little different now, but he's still Bucky under all of that. It's as plain as day to Steve.
"Where can I sleep?"
no subject
He's not sure why he cares.
Finishing with the dishes he turns his back to the sink, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms as he considers Steve and Steve's question. The cabin's simple layout does include a small bedroom; its linen closet had been well stocked with wool blankets. It's the logical choice.
"The bedroom," he replies; he'll be perfectly comfortable on the couch himself. "You should take a hot shower first. You still look half frozen."