fossilised | For Steve

A plan was a good idea. It distracted him from how Bucky was behaving. His mind hadn't caught up quite yet to the possibility that kissing Bucky wasn't going to damn his soul. Being emasculated by being considered the gal about to step out with a handsome GI was maybe a little too over the top. Steve had to prove his masculinity on a daily basis. He wanted to be treated as Bucky had always treated him.

The growl of his stomach did provide a bit of a relief from those thoughts, however, and he accepted Bucky's help into the truck.

"We'll meet back here if we get seperated," he agreed, making sure he watched where they are going as they drove out of their tree lined Washington DC neighborhood towards a little part of town lined with shops. "It's a little too much like home," Steve mused as they drove. "But.... Not. The streets are cleaner. And there isn't as much light."

He didn't quite have his nose pressed to the window but nearly.

"There's no where near as many flowers either. How does a city manage so many people and so much green space?" Steve was just talking out loud as Bucky parked and women in blue and yellow dresses accompanied men in smart suits into a bowling alley or a fancy restaurant or a theater across the way.

Steve couldn't help but love DC.

Bucky had seen a lot of cities in his life throughout the span of decades, and so one more was nothing to him. They all blurred into one eventually, just endless buildings and endless faces, dressed in varying clothes with different skin tones. But to see DC through Steve's eyes, it made it all a little exciting again.

He pulled up outside a little bistro with a striped awning overlooking a little pond, and a gaggle of nicely dressed women inside serving sandwiches and ice cream sundaes to the various patrons. It was the least likely place for anyone to come looking for them, which was why Bucky had chosen it.

"I got some money when I got the truck, real-- I mean, the other money is real, but this is money from this time. So order what you want."

Don't ask him how he did it, Steve would not approve. He had stolen it, the truck too, and made sure neither could be traced down as stolen to either of them. It was just one of his many unsavoury skills.

"Yeah?" It wasn't like Steve could eat a lot anyway, but it was nice to have the option to have more than some soup and coffee. He could slid down from the truck himself and he smiled at a woman in a navy polka dot dress as he held the door for her. She had on these little lacy white gloves that fancy women wore out. It excited him to be having dinner in a place like this.

There was music on inside and people were laughing and joking happily, everyone excited for the end of the war. Rows of men's hard lined the wall and Steve followed a waitress to one of the window seats, feeling very smart for just being in the presence of so many well dressed people.

He sat with a grin at a table with a cotton printed cloth across it and accepted some water and his menu.

"This is-- wow. This is a really great place!" So great that Steve decided to order the meatballs and spaghetti. It was something he hadn't been able to afford in a really long time.

Bucky didn't mind if Steve wanted to order himself some substantial food, even if this place was a bit more upmarket. He ordered himself a steak, one of the most expensive dishes on the menu, because if he didn't start packing away the calories then he was going to be in trouble.

The waitress gave them both a big smile, she could be charming to any fella with that kind of money to throw around, and brought them some milkshakes and soda to drink while they were waiting.

"I'm going to make sure you always have enough food."

It's such a stupid promise, but it feels like something tangible that he can give. Steve was a weedy runt of a guy with a lot of health problems, something as simple as good meals consistently might make all the difference.

Having a provider was almost more important than a protector. The economy was assured to get better with the end of war, supplies would be less limited, but Steve didn't have many marketable skills right now. Not with his health problems. And there was almost so much work for artists. He didn't mean to become a blushing fool but the words were charged and romantic and Steve almost choked on his milkshake, eyes snapping to Bucky and away from darkened window where he was watching everyone's reflections in the window. "Buck-- Thank you," he said, sincerely. "I... I hope I can repay even half of this one day."

Bucky always fixed him with such intense eyes that they always seemed dark enough for Steve to see himself in them. Tonight was no different. He could forget the pain in his arm and the fact that they were likely being followed and searched for, just to get lost in them. But staring like that was going to get them in trouble and so Steve lowered his eyes at once and made an effort to stir the thick malt around like he had been meaning to.

They were just two guys out to eat. Enjoying the festivities that the capital would be offering them in the next few days. They certainly had a lot of gazes towards their table too. Mostly at Bucky. He cut such a fine form in his clothing. Steve needed to make a conscious gesture not to go back to staring.

"Maybe-- we should try a dance hall... To see if it jogs more of your memories. After dinner I mean. If you can even move from all that steak!"

Why would Bucky ever need Steve to repay anything? All he ever wanted now was to remain close by and be allowed to protect his friend, that was payment enough for any amount of providing. He would make sure that Steve had the freedom to be able to do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. If that was pursuing Erskine's research, then so be it.

"You sure that's safe?"

Dance halls were crowded places full of dark corners, it would be so easy for an enemy to hide in wait there and trap them both. It would be conspicuous, it would be public, it would be loud, it would be-- maybe nice. Did he really used to be a good dancer? That wasn't a skill he could remember at all.

"I don't know where any dance halls are in the city."

But if Steve wanted to go to one, and he was sure it wouldn't be too risky, then he would go along with him and even twirl him around the dance floor.

"Well maybe when my arm is fixed. And we get settled. Maybe I'll even dance." Not likely. Steve couldn't keep up. He could lift or swing any gals and he'd just feel silly. "We should get a radio. There's bound to be a few good stations to listen to down here. Maybe that will help you remember your moves."

Steve was trying to be helpful, and Bucky was so much less rigid than he had been even just a few days ago. Maybe it was premature to relax, but Steve felt his shoulders loosening and his posture moving more towards than table than against the chair.

Their meals were brought right up and Steve pushed his half finished milkshake away to dig into the big plate of pasta. It was more of a delight than he would have thought and he gestured with his right hand, fork full of meatball, as he spoke with more animation than usual. A good meal with good company and a new lease on life would certainly do that.

Right now, he was feeling as if nothing at all could ever go wrong again.

He would only be able to eat half of his meal. The rest was bundled up to take home and though they had parked nearby, Steve suggested a walk. Just down to the duck pond. The lights of the Capital Building stood out against the black sky and Steve breathed in sweeter air than Brooklyn ever had. "So do we have to become Senators fans now? Or can we keep rooting for Brooklyn?"

Bucky almost enjoyed himself at the meal. The steak was flavoursome and well cooked, the atmosphere was genial, and Steve was obviously having a wonderful time. It was good-- really good to see him enjoying himself, to see him relax, and it transferred onto Bucky too. Though he did less talking, mostly listening to Steve go on about everything and nothing, he looked more at ease when they walked out.

"I don't think I'm a fan of either, but you can be a fan of whoever you want," he said, though the old Bucky would have playfully socked him in the shoulder for daring to not support Brooklyn. "Do you think any stores will still be open to buy a radio? Maybe you can show me a step or two."

He didn't want to dance with a dame, he wanted to dance with Steve. Surely his pal would be the best person to-- To-- He froze in place, his eyes going wide as he spotted the other Steve on the other side of the road. Their eyes meet and then Bucky is just gone, off running like a man possessed.

"BUCK--! Buck, wait!" Steve called, but it echoed uselessly after him. Not that Steve pursued, he just jogged over to where the other Steve was, looking distressed. "Sorry, I didn't know..."

But that wasn't true, was it? Of course Steve had known. He'd said as much to him in the hospital. Steve turned to watch a young couple dart out of the way as if they were shoved aside. That was about all he was capable of seeing until Bucky disappeared.

"He left a hole in the window at the hospital as soon as he found out you were here," Steve snapped, trying not to feel bitter at an otherwise nice night ruined. He'd obviously been standing there watching them together through the window. Another couple were sitting there now and looking just as happy as he had been feeling. His stomach twisted a little, suddenly protective over the small amount of Bucky he had retrieved and ever flinching smile given to him.

Why hadn't Bucky just grabbed him and run? Steve didn't like being left behind. And he certainly had no ability to lose this Steve.

"How did you find us?" He didn't want to leave. He didn't want to always be on the run. "Because if it's so easy for you, it's going to be easy for HYDRA."

Steve's face was lined with pain that he was doing his best to conceal, heartbroken over how terrified his best friend seemed to be of him. Why him and only him? Why did he not run from the other Steve? Other people? Was it-- did he blame Steve for what happened to him and all the years that Captain America had been saving other people while he failed to notice the one person who really needed his help?

His head bowed and shoulders slumped for a moment, and he had to swallow a couple of times to keep his eyes from getting wet, but he forced it down. Forced himself to composure.

"I really didn't know. I knew you were in DC because Erskine is here, I was just walking and-- I didn't mean to scare him."

The most difficult thing about this was that he was dealing with himself. The other Steve was older and had seen so much more than he had, he knew more than he had, he helped other people more than he had. But that didn't mean that he had changed, though. He was still just as broken up about Bucky that he had been himself.

And Steve knew why. He had been in love with him for longer than was imaginable, unable or willing to put that label on it because of societal pressures and the fear of God.

"He doesn't want to go back," Steve said, trying to be gentle now. "He doesn't want to run and hide. It's not that he feels like he has to run from you.... But HYDRA wants him back. He told me there are trigger words that will force him to be a killer again. And if you can find him here, they can too." His eyes lifted to a version of himself he could barely think to aspire to be. It was so alien to him. "They hurt him worse than you can imagine."

"It's no safer for him here," Steve replied, sounding regretful. If it had just been a case of himself, if he had known that Bucky wanted beyond a shadow of a doubt to remain here undisturbed, then he would have gone back. "These time anomalies, I don't pretend to understand them, but I know they're the work of HYDRA. Whether Bucky is here or there, they'll be able to find him."

He hated this. He knew that Bucky had been through a lot, though the way that the other Steve talked it seemed like maybe his friend had opened up a bit about what had gone on, something he desperately wished that he knew too.

"I don't want to force him to do anything, but he'd be safer back-- I have a friend, Tony, he has a home nobody can break into with all manner of security. Bucky could stay there until he felt safe again, he wouldn't even have to talk to me if he didn't want to."

God, that hurt to say.

"But here? Steve, I know you want what's best for him, that isn't here."

"All I can do is ask him to talk to you," Steve said, a pit in his stomach opening so wide he could barely stand. His legs were weak from the thought of what HYDRA from the future might do to the past. He didn't bother to ask what they were hoping to accomplish either. The anamolies had stopped as far as Steve had heard, unless they were going on at other parts of the world. Communication between countries right now werent the best. Not with Europe and Asia so fractured.

He pressed his lips together. Did they know Bucky was back here? Perhaps. Was this their plan to come for him? Doubtful. The anamolies started almost a month before Bucky showed up in his bedroom that night. None of this made sense but Steve knew he didn't have even half of the right answers.

"I... Listen. Is there a place I can contact you at? A number I could call?"

He was not going to make Bucky do anything.

"Buck is his own master now. He makes his own decisions. I'll pass along the message though. But... It sounds less like a safe place and more like a cage to me, Captain."

Steve was achingly familiar with the way that people used his rank to display displeasure with him, calling him Captain as if it were an insult rather than a badge of pride. It didn't quite get that far with the other Steve, but he still felt the sting of disapproval layered beneath his words.

"I would never cage him." That was a sharp snap. "And if you think I would, then you really don't know yourself at all."

Of all the people in the world that would try to use or cage Bucky, Steve would never be one of them. He wished with all his heart that he could give Bucky a place to be safe and leave him be if that was what he wanted, but the world wasn't fair and people weren't always that lucky.

"Fine. Talk to him. I'm staying at the Best Western on Beecher and Lake. Room 16."

Steve didn't bother to retort the misunderstanding. He knew his older self cared for Bucky just as much as he did. He would never think that the Captain would wish to see Bucky harmed in anyway, but he couldn't help but feel that a secure place where nothing could get in sounded a whole lot like a place that would make Bucky go mad. Or worse, shut him down completely.

Steve didn't know this Bucky. He'd fought him, yes, and he'd seen some of that programming break, he'd been saved by him, but he didn't know Bucky. Not anymore. And Steve felt badly about that. His shoulders slumped a little.

"There's something called combat fatigue, right?" Modern day military would call it post traumatic stress disorder and at least half of them would fight the notion of having it as if it made them weak. It was the best way Steve knew to describe how Bucky was. "He's suffering from that. But double it. And then double it again. They took his name from him. His identity. And... They took his humanity too. He was just a weapon, frozen and woken up whenever they needed him. He can't go into a box, Captain." The title was meant for respect. Nothing else. Steve earned his rank ten fold according to Bucky. He ought to be called by it. Especially because Steve was only ever a private. For less than a week. "I don't know how to make you understand that."

Imagining Bucky having gone through all that made Steve feel as if someone had reached into his chest and tugged on his heart, a vicious and agonising wrench. He didn't know what to do for the best, he didn't want to put Bucky in a box or imprison him, but neither did he just want to abandon him when HYDRA were undoubtedly after him and would find a way to hunt him down.

If Steve could do it (admittedly with help from Tony and his amazing brain for science), then HYDRA would be able to as well.

"I don't want to make him suffer, Steve." That was the last thing he wanted. "Nothing about this is a good situation, and I'm not going to strongarm him into coming with me. I just want him to have the option to go somewhere it's safe, just-- just for a while. He'd never be trapped there, he could leave whenever he wanted. Please, just ask him to talk to me."

"Of course I'll ask him to," Steve said gently. He'd already promised to do anything he could to keep Bucky safe, though there was a new caveat to that. Bucky had to want it too. If the other decided to leave him for the future and his bigger, older and stronger self, so be it. Steve didn't have a problem in giving him up under those circumstances.

He'd always have that kiss, that perfect memory of what it was like to be accepted and wanted. He'd always have the smile that followed too. It made him wonder if the Captain had ever enjoyed it. Probably not. They had been at war, brothers in arms, during s time when it was unacceptable. Steve would have never made the first move. He doubted Bucky would have either. And when they had been been around during the future, they had been enemies.

Steve's broken arm was starting to make him sweat despite the cool air. He was feeling a little sick to his stomach from the pain.

"Best Western. Room 16. I'll tell him. Just. Let him come to you. And please don't follow me home."

Steve desperately wanted to follow him home, he was only human and what hid at the end of that journey was what his heart desired more than anything. Of course, he had no idea that this Steve had enjoyed the kiss that he had been dreaming of since the early thirties, since he had first hit puberty and realised that he wanted his best friend in more ways than was acceptable.

"I won't."

He didn't lie, still, it just wasn't in him to do so, so he hoped this Steve would believe him when he gave his agreement. He stepped back, giving implicit permission for them to part ways.

"If I don't hear from him, or you, in the next few days then I'll have my answer. But-- if he doesn't want to, you can come if you want. Just to talk."

And with that, he turned and walked away before he disgraced himself by crying.

Steve knew the tone in his voice and his eyes softened. Making someone that upset was not what he wanted. He felt angry at himself for not being able to explain this better to Bucky and he felt sickened that he still wanted to be the one to come out on top here. He wanted a Bucky that wasn't his by right of time. It wasn't fair to the man he might never become to keep him.

But then again, Bucky was a person. He made his own choices. And Steve did nothing to influence him either way.

So he started the long walk back, glad that his memory was good. He couldn't exactly drive the car but he remembered the way that they had gone and he was used to walking everywhere.

That did not mean that he was in very good condition when he did get home, knocking weakly on the door to the apartment, wheezing a little, and in severe agony.

"Buck. It's me. I'm alone. Buck? Are you in there?"

The apartment door swung open at Steve's weak knock, it hadn't been closed properly and so the latch hadn't taken. Inside, the place looked as if a bomb had hit it, the evidence of someone clawing through all their possessions looking for something specific quite clear from the clothes and furniture scattered haphazardly around.

On the floor by the bedroom door were four bottles of painkillers in varying strengths, obviously newly acquired, and a bag of clothes roughly in Steve's size.

But there was no sign of Bucky himself, and the man's backpack was also missing.

"Mmmmm..." It was the most that Steve could manage to vocalize for several long minutes as he stepped inside and shut the door. He sat back against it, knees up and head down, for a good long time, left overs sitting beside him in a paper container, soaking through to the carpet. He'd been alone before, but he'd never felt so alone.

Eventually, he took some medication. He struggled out of his clothing. He crawled into his bed. He even slept, dreams filled with Bucky abandoning him. It wasn't his best friend's fault. How could it be? He'd been spooked. He ran. Steve didn't blame him when his freedom was on the line. And he would have just slowed him down.

Morning came and with it, just the chill from sleeping alone. Steve cleaned up their things, he put away what he could. He bathed and then dressed.

And then he wrote Bucky a note on the back of a postcard he'd found in a drawer, left by the last tenant. He wrote down the name of the hotel and the address and the room. And then he set off to find his counterpart. Because what else was there for him? He needed answers.

When Steve had finished writing his postcard and opened the door to head out towards the hotel, he would find Bucky sitting on the doorstep like a parcel that had been left by the mailman or a lost dog with nowhere else to go. He looked dishevelled, hair a wild mess around his head even as short as it had been cut in basic training, and he looked up as soon as the door opened.

His eyes were dark, frightened, and desperate.

Bucky scrambled to his feet as soon as the door was open, facing Steve as if unsure if he saw friend or foe, though at least his words were in English when he spoke.

"You're leaving?"

Steve couldn't help but huff in relief, one arm immediately going around Bucky whether the other man wanted it to or not. "I don't have to now," he breathed. "I already found you." He didn't have to seek the Captain's help now. "You worried me sick, Buck. Why are you waiting out here? Come inside."

He wasn't going to take no for an answer either. Luckily, there was no one across the hall from them to watch Steve take Bucky by the hand and tug him into their living room.

And no one to see the smaller man shake a little with the emotional relief he felt running down his spine. His eyes brimmed, but the tears did not fall.

"You can't just do that. You have to leave a note next time. You just-- You left. I didn't know what to do." Steve lightly hit his fist against Bucky's chest and exhaled raggedly.

Edited 2017-02-14 14:14 (UTC)

Bucky could quite easily plant his feet like a tree and refuse to move, Steve wasn't nearly strong enough to bring him inside, but he didn't resist at all. He let Steve pull him inside and shut the door again, he let the smaller man hold him, and he let him hit his chest lightly.

"Sorry."

He hadn't meant to scare Steve, he had just panicked. He had come back here, but then had been sure that Steve would be followed and so he had fled again. He had made it outside of the city limits before he had calmed down enough to realise he had to go back for Steve. He couldn't leave him.

"...does he know? Does he know where we are?"

Though Steve would be happy to hear that he had been returned to, that Bucky left in the first place was what had given him insight into what his older self was feeling. "I asked him not to follow me. He gave his word. He knew we would come to DC. He just happened to run into us accidentally at the bistro." Steve let his hand fall from Bucky's chest and picked up the postcard he had left for him.

Went out to find you. Hoping Captain America can help. Best Western on Lake. Room 16. Your Steve.

Maybe the signature could have been better. Maybe he shouldn't have been so possessive or implied Bucky's possessiveness but he didn't want to lose what he had only just tasted. Not yet. "He had infortmstion. He had a safe place where you can go and no one can get you. He just wants to talk to you because HYDRA is behind all of this-- Bucky, he's me. And since he's me-- He loves you. He just wants to help."

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