(no subject)

[priceoffreedom]

Character: Steve Rogers
Canon: Captain America

Comments

[trusted]

[It's amazing how quick things work around Steve. Barely a day back at base camp in Italy (Bucky spent most of it telling nurses he was just fine) and they were on the skytrain for London, Steve, his new pal Howard Stark of all people, and about a dozen agents and officers too high up for Bucky to be supposed to mix with.

Things work so fast around him, they never stop, and Steve's spent the day in war office meetings or something, nobody says it clear but its nowhere Bucky's invited to go.

And he spends the day wander, listless, telling anybody who asks that he's just fine.

It's late when he finally hears Steve's door open and then close, where he's been quartered just down the hall, and though Bucky's been in his room for hours he's nowhere close to sleeping. So a few minutes later he's down the hall himself, and heading into Steve's room without a thought to a knock.]

[priceoffreedom]

[It's been a confusing few days, the launch of his career from performing monkey to an honest-to-god Captain of the United States Army, and it's not that he's forgotten about Bucky, but every time he wants to go see him he turns around and someone else asks for his attention.

In fact he was just changing when Bucky comes in, from his dress uniform into something more comfortable, his shirt half on. He looks over, because anyone else would knock but not Bucky and so he figures it can only be him.

(Got it in one)

He just looks Bucky over.]

I was about to come see you.

[trusted]

Then I saved you the trip.

[He looks Steve over a minute, then looks away, heading over to make himself comfortable at the little desk in the corner. Bucky's room doesn't have a desk. He guesses that comes with rank.

And only Steve would change this late at night into anything other than sleepwear. Shaking his head, Bucky leans back, legs kicked out.]

It's like every time I turn round I have to get used to this all over again.

[Out of sight may not mean out of mind, but out of sight Steve's still just a scrawny kid with a chest rattle when Bucky thinks of him. He's still not sure that Steve isn't waiting back home.]

[priceoffreedom]

I'm just glad they didn't show you guys the movies.

[God, they were awful. All that terrible acting. (Mostly his. His terrible acting.) He sits, heavy, on his bed, as if being able to look down at Steve will make this all the better.]

You all right?

[trusted]

I got time to catch up.

[And to think Bucky usually skipped out on the propaganda screenings. Probably for the better, as it turns out, he couldn't have failed to recognise the guy on the screen, even under a mask and six foot of solid muscle. He still sees Steve in there, it just takes a minute or two longer to look.


Though, he drops his focus again at the question.]

Just fine.

[He takes a breath and finds he's watching Steve despite himself, even when his chin's down and he's keeping his eyes half shuttered. How big are his feet for christssake.]

Y'know, I spent the whole winter wondering how you'd keep warm. Do you even feel the cold anymore?

[priceoffreedom]

No, not really.

[He's smiling, then, careful, but genuine, and it's easy to see Steve, then.]

I don't ache to breathe, either. Sorry for the extra worry, buddy, but you should have known I would take care of it.

[As if he's ever managed before. He's always tried - don't worry, Bucky, come on, I can handle it - but Bucky's never given, not even an inch.]

[trusted]

Yeah, I was just wondering what took you so long.

[He moves from the chair, then, tosses himself onto the bed beside Steve with the usual shove that still feels natural between them, even though now there's a whole lot more of him to shift.

Leans forward, elbows folded over his knees and says]

You really don't, huh. [Like maybe there's an issue, there, this thing about cold. Maybe it's just that he never feels warm anymore and he'd like to know who it was took the two of them and swapped their lives around.

And then maybe shake their hand. Steve was always the one who deserved the easy life more.]

[trusted]

[Bucky sleeps the night through. At least, there's the first light of a chilly morning catching pale fingers through the blinds before he wakes up, cold and with an unfamiliar weight against him. The paralysis of sleep keeps his limbs sluggish enough for the panic to wear thin, though he fear's still worked taut through every muscle, his breathing hitched and loud as the world comes back to the present tense, and this room is unfamiliar, but it's safe, and the weight against him, wrapped half round him, is the safest thing of all.

He closes his eyes again, tries to come back to himself a little (get a handle on it, Buck) and listens for sounds of life out in the corridor, the military and it's early risers. But it's a good hour off reveille and for now there's nothing but the two of them and the birds.

And Bucky Barnes kissed his best friend, last night. It's going to take a while longer to trust that wasn't the part he was dreaming.]

[priceoffreedom]

[Steve sleeps even better than Bucky, not plagued by nightmares on the worst nights, and this was far from worst. But he is a light sleeper - so many military men are, and Steve's always been a bit fitful, hard to keep down.

He feels Bucky waking, stirring from his usual sleep where he's only a few breaths away from dead, and he just barely looks up. Instead he moves so that his arms around Bucky's waist tighten a bit, comfortably.]

What time is it?

[He hasn't looked at his watch.]

[trusted]

[Bucky's hand settles easy back into Steve's hair, threading his fingers through and combing like he's petting a particularly fluffy cat. Nobody's made the connection of this kind of thing being therapeutic, yet, but Bucky could give the studies a helping hand.

And how's he supposed to know what time it is, what, does he looks like a sundial?]

Too early. Shut up and go back to sleep.

[It's not gonna happen to him, but he can lay here a while and listen to Steve's breath coming without a catch or a rasp. He could listen to that just about forever.]

[priceoffreedom]

That's not going to happen.

[And the serum makes it so that he only really needs to sleep about two hours a night. The fact that he's slept this long is a miracle in and of itself.

But he's quiet for a few minutes, holding on to Bucky, and letting himself be treated like a cat.]

You asleep?

[This is like a vaudeville act.]

[trusted]

[Steve's hair's one of the few things the serum didn't really change. Then again, there always was too much for the size of his head. Bucky could get him all the haircuts in the world and he never quite pulled off smart. Now he does. Now he makes it look easy.]

You don't hear me snoring?

[priceoffreedom]

[He's pretty sure that the military has some kind of secret need to make his hair look neat.]

You don't snore, Buck.

[He closes his eyes for a minute, like maybe he's thinking about something, but he doesn't say what it is.]

[priceoffreedom]

[It's been a long kind of day, after a long week. The Howling Commandos finished a venture out into Hydra territory and took out a base, but that doesn't make Steve relax. It's still early days, and he's antsier than usual.

Probably because of the meeting.

Anytime he has to meet with higher ups, Steve gets annoyed. He knows why there's a chain of command, but none of these meetings are pleasant things. People are dying. People are getting hurt, losing limbs, suffering, and he wants this over faster for the sake of everyone out on the battlefield.

It's a quiet night out at camp, and he heads back to his tent - but then, halfway there, he takes a detour. The Commandos know how close he and Bucky are (or at least, they think they know) and they never question when Steve has that look on his face. No one cheers him up better than Bucky.

He ducks his head when he comes in, without a knock.]

Bucky-

[trusted]

[Knocking's a trick, anyway, when it comes to tents, but Bucky hears boots stamping outside and sees Steve's shadow before he leans in looking for him.

He's sat with one of his rifles taken apart, cleaned and polished to make the workings smooth as butter. It seems like five minutes since he was last in the field, the memories have come back to him in good ways and bad, but he missed a shot today and that's not something he's gonna allow a second time.

He looks up, whatever was grim set into his expression easing quick.]

It's late out, Rogers. Need me to walk you home?

[priceoffreedom]

[The look on Steve's face, on the other hand, takes a minute. It's like breathing after an asthma attack - it always takes more than a moment to relax.]

If I go back to my tent all I'm likely to do is stop around and stare at the walls.

Or are you already easing up for bed?

[trusted]

Yeah, I brought home company, tonight.

[He's refitting a rifle, Steve, not about to tuck the thing under his pillow. Not tonight, anyway.]

Sit down and tell me whose face you're pretending not to want to put a fist through right now.

[priceoffreedom]

Am I gonna make her jealous?

[Hey, Bucky has a thing with his guns that Steve isn't gonna come between, okay?

He sits, though, as told, heavily.]

What makes you think that?

[trusted]

I'll even let you hold her, if you want.

[Hey, when has he ever had qualms about sharing? He leans back, puts a hand on the bed to support himself without worrying about the grease stains that rub off.]

I've got my qualifications in reading those eyes. And you're the only guy they invite in who doesn't throw his weight around.

[priceoffreedom]

[It's that kind of cold night, out in the middle of nowhere, and the rest of the commandos are asleep - Steve volunteered to take the first watch. He always does. It's easiest, for a lot of reasons, including the fact that he doesn't need much sleep.

So he sits out on the edge of camp, back against a tree, a small sketchbook in hand. He's sketching out things in his head, but it all comes back to the same things - the shape of Bucky's face, his mouth when he's laughing, his eyes when he's really pleased. It's pathetic. He's moonstruck like a girl, and he's not ashamed, but maybe he is a little shy about it.

He hears Bucky approaching and he closes the book - not fast, but it's closed all the same when he looks up.]

You should be sleeping, too.

[trusted]

[Steve could take practically all the watches singlehanded, and Bucky knows enough by now to know that. He also knows he's not due on himself for another couple hours, and that Steve'll hear his footsteps crunching over the frosty grass no matter how careful he goes.

He's quiet, so no one else might, but Steve's like a goddamn bat since the serum. Bucky can't even mutter curses under his breath when he's pissed off without getting picked up on them, and someone should explain to him just how super that's supposed to be. Bucky, though, he's not unobservant either, and the rapid slamming of one of those sketchbooks is a memory that predates the war.

Steve's right, he should be sleeping.]

Maybe, but someone marched out here with my pillow. Can't get much rest without it.

[priceoffreedom]

[It's better that he doesn't. Steve isn't precisely social, not by any stretch of the imagination, but he needs to talk to people as much as the next guy. Or just be around them.

And Bucky's the best at that.]

Are you saying you'll sleep out here?

[Although Steve wouldn't argue him that, either. He moves over a bit on the old army blanket that he grabbed just to keep himself dry. It's a clear invitation.]

[trusted]

Might do. Seen any sheep to count?

[He drops to his knees, then settles in beside Steve, shoving him up a little just for propriety's sake.]

Guess you could draw me a few, if it's not too dark.

[priceoffreedom]

Nazi sheep?

[He barely moves, but after a moment of silence, he puts his arm around Bucky's shoulders.]

I've been a bit hard up on focusing, lately.

[trusted]

[Bucky thinks of protesting for half a second (not used to being the one tucked under someone else's arm).

And then the tells himself to shut the hell up, and leans in.]

Yeah? What's the distraction?