fossilised | For Steve

That was all true, and it was something of a relief that there was a safety net there, but Steve couldn't understand just how frightening it was that the possibility existed that he might just snap. It was being unable to trust his own brain, his own judgement, and that scared him more than almost anything.

Talking further about that was pointless, though. It wasn't something that anyone could do anything about and so he just nodded with a low hum. He bent to press a kiss to Steve's lips, instinctual now that they were so close, only for a short while before he broke back with words quiet in the heated space between them.

"Thanks." Steve always knew what to say, what to do, to help. "You should go shower, get dressed for dinner, we have a guest coming, remember?"

It didn't matter how brief the loss was. Steve poured himself into those kisses, chin up and eyes closed. His got everything he could out of them and felt better for it after. That Bucky initiated still caught him in the stomach each and every time. It wasn't pushy. It made him tingle.

So he went off to shower with a happy smile on his face and took some time looking through his gifted clothing for something appropriate to wear. JARVIS helped with that too. "A poker game is considered casual."

"But... We have a guest. Are you sure a t-shirt and jeans is enough? It's what I've been wearing every day."

"It is the most appropriate. The occasion dictates comfort above all else," JARVIS assured him and so Steve selected a white t-shirt with the word BROOKLYN across the chest and his jeans.

He did not, and could not, imagine that his older self would wear the same thing, though BROOKLYN had been replaced with NEW YORK. Steve arrived perfectly on time with the cards and chips and some dip that Tony told him would make him the most sought after guest for future engagements. Taco dip, after all, was where it was at.

Edited 2017-02-19 14:33 (UTC)

Bucky had dressed himself in similar casual attire, though his jeans were black denim and his t-shirt was a deep red without any additional wording across it. He didn't bother hiding the arm, there was no reason to when Steve knew it was there and neither of them seemed to care.

The pizzas were just about ready, so Steve would be able to smell the hot cheese as he was shown in to where the smaller Steve was already dishing them out onto big plates and cutting them up so that they could easily dip in.

"So-- hey."

Wow, good start, Bucky. He was just kind of nervous.

"I haven't had a guest over in a long time, you might have to give me a few pointers."

"How'd we use to do it? Punches to the arm and flopping on whatever surface was handy," Steve said, following Bucky into the kitchen as his more properly groomed self was carefully shutting the oven. They took one look at the other, then a glance at themselves, and burst out laughing. "Tony bought you some clothes?"

The other Strve grinned and nodded. "They were out on the patio a few days ago," he confirmed.

"These are from him too."

At least their voices were a little different, audible to the Soldier in a way others might not understand. When the voice box shifted, Captain America's voice had gotten much deeper. Steve's was still soft and warm and calming without the edge of authority his older self had.

"But we picked the same blue jeans," the younger pointed out and then reached over to accept the chilled bowl. "You didn't have to bring anything."

"Tony suggested it. I think he was hoping for an invite. He never sticks around the compound this long."

It was so strange to see them interacting, but not in a bad way, just-- in a way that made it seem as if Bucky had regained another piece of the puzzle. They both represented different things to him even if they were the same person, and he didn't want to cut either one of them out.

He reached out and dipped a finger into the bowl, tasting the dip, before shaking his head. "It's good, but not invite good." He smiled, a tiny quirk of his lips upwards to try and diffuse the tension.

"So... I need something to call you, one of you, to differentiate. I can't use Rogers, and I don't want to call you Cap because you're more than that to me. But if I keep saying Steve, you'll both look up. Steven? Stevie?"

He had a vague memory of calling him Stevie when they were young and he was really sick sometimes, but it was only vague.

"I thought you might insist on going for Grant," both Steves said at the same time, making each one look flabbergasted and then causing them to burst out laughing.

"Since we call you Buck," New York Steve said, and Brooklyn Steve nodded.

"Whatever you pick, Steve should stay Steve," Brooklyn continued. "He has friends here that call him that. And it's his future. I'm just crashing the party." He opened a bag of chips to try the dip out himself in a slightly more dignified fashion, blinking in surprise. "I don't know what is in this but wow!"

"Tony called it taco dip."

"What's a taco-- oh. Tell me later. We're getting off topic. Let me get you a beer." Brooklyn didn't just pop the top of the bottle he pulled from the fridge, but put it in a glass too. That's what good hosts did. No one just drank from the bottle unless they were drunks. He had no idea that the alcohol would do nothing to the other two men.

"Thanks and-- honestly, Buck. You pick what you want to call us. Just, and I don't mean to speak for you, but not Steve ."

"That's what mom used when we were in trouble."

Okay, this was more than a little weird, but it was also nice. Comforting. It proved that Steve really hadn't changed all that much, that the muscles and the health and the strength only added to what was already there, and that power didn't always corrupt. He was living proof that people really could stay good and pure, and it made him grin all of a sudden.

"Alright, you--" And he nodded towards Captain America Steve. "Can stay Steve, and you--" Now this time he nodded towards the smaller Steve. "Can be Grant. That's way less confusing."

He hadn't even considered going for Grant because nobody had ever used it, but then... nobody had ever called him Bucky before Steve. He had been James to everyone, his family and friends alike, and then all of a sudden this skinny kid pops up out of nowhere and says he suits Bucky better. That James is too boring and common for him.

"But it doesn't matter if you're Steve or Grant, you're going down at poker tonight."

"That's big talk coming from someone that lost the last few times we played," Steve said and Grant, who was still eating the dip, nodded in solidarity. He washed his last scoop down with some beer and then circled around behind the two older men to bring the cars and the chip wheel to the circular table he had set up.

They each had a spot, each next to the other and equidistant apart. Grant had made up place cards and now was laying the deck out and the paper to take down scores. "One of you cut up the pies? If I'm hungry, both of you have to be."

Steve complied, exerting just enough pressure to cut the dough without ruining the slicer. Or the table beneath it. He carried over some plates and the dip, leaving Bucky to grab the drinks. If Grant tried to keep pace, he'd be in trouble. "How's your arm? Tony said he gave you a bio cast."

"One of his robot friends did. It's almost all better. To knit bone back together so easily-- I'm glad we're taking baby steps. I'm afraid of what else has changed."

Steve laughed. "The first time I saw New York now was maybe ten minutes after I woke up. It's been a journey, let me tell you, pal. Hey. Did you guys make this pizza yourself? It doesn't look like delivery."

Bucky was some strange hybrid of the two. Even though he had seen the technology advance as the Soldier and was therefore more familiar with it than either Steve or Grant, he had also not really lived in the world and so was ignorant of a lot of the things that Steve knew. A bridge between them, ignorance and knowledge, and he was glad to have them both either side of him.

"Yeah, this was the third try, the second one is still stuck to the roof somewhere."

He took a bite himself and, even if it wasn't the best pie in the world, it tasted really good for knowing that they had created it together. He took his first cards up and began to play - a bit stiff at first, inclined to sit and let the other two talk rather than join in himself - but eventually he loosened up enough to start joining in and joking with them.

It was good-- he really didn't care if he won or lost, what mattered was that this evening was going well. He hadn't had any urges to attack, and both men were being really supportive of what he needed and how slow it had to happen.

Steve found that playing against himself was one of the stranger things he had ever done. Trying to read his own tells was both a lesson in amusement and in futility since both were playing as if they could read one another's minds. That got progressively more interesting as the beer bottle empties piled up and Grant's face grew more red and he became bolder with his cards.

It turned out that a drunk Steve Rogers was almost impossible to play against because he was much less conservative and cautious in his strategy but just as aggressive. Grant started winning enough to actually surprise Steve, laughing as he watched the younger man climb up onto his chair and declare himself King of Poker.

The pizza was gone by that point and Steve had already spoken about having gotten rid of HYDRA in Grant's reality, dodging the bullet that Erskine had died in the scuffle. No need to make anyone sad. They had shared the mishap with Tony in return, and the pizza making fiasco.

It was good just to be themselves. Right up until Grant, once he had been talked down off of the chair, leaned towards Steve to plant his chin on both palms and stare up at him.

"Have you kissed anyone? Ever?"

The beer obviously didn't affect Bucky and Steve at all, and Bucky was about ready to cut Grant off when he became more and more intoxicated. The last thing he needed was to have his already sickly friend get a massive hangover the following morning, but then-- well, then the atmosphere changed all at once.

He took hold of Grant and hauled him to his feet firmly but without hurting him, voice low in his ear and an apologetic look shot at Steve.

"Alright, pal, I think you've had too much. How about you get a glass of water and head to bed, huh?"

He didn't want to know if Steve had kissed anyone. What if he said that he and Bucky had been an item before? Would that be a relief? A heartbreak? It would sure as heck be awkward either way.

"Buck, you're not my mom," Grant complained even as Steve watched, bemused, as the younger blond was tottled off by an overprotective Bucky. He almost expected to see Grant thrown over his shoulder. The timing didn't bother him at all. He didn't really think anything of it, but he had a wistful sort of look in his eyes as Grant was given a glass of water, two voices just a little too low for him to make out.

It made him think of Peggy, that promise for a dance, one that would never come. Steve hadn't taken anyone else out since. He had never enjoyed himself with another person the way he had wanted to with her. She made him feel normal. She helped him after Bucky died and made him think that it might actually be all right, that he might want to be with a woman after all.

But that was before he discovered the Internet. And before it was legal in New York to marry a same sex partner. His eyes had been opened. His mind had been expanded. And he understood that his urges were normal. And that it was all right to love men just as women. He decided to wait where he was, cleaning up, as Bucky took Grant into his room.

The younger man was not having it.

"Why is it bad to ask him? I don't understand. If he's like me, if he is me, maybe he's had a boyfriend. Maybe he understands what it is I'm feeling and-- Buck, come on. Don't scowl."

"Because you're not going to want to have asked this come morning, I don't know if he has or hasn't, but that's his business. Now stop arguing and drink this damn water, and then you're going to bed. And if you set foot outside this room again tonight, I will pick you up and hold you in bed."

Bucky's words might be stern, but his expression was fond. He couldn't help it, he loved this idiot even when he was drunk and making a fool of himself. He just didn't know if he loved him in the way he wanted to be loved.

"I'm going back out there, stay put."

Ignoring any and all protests, Bucky slipped out of Grant's room and shut the door tightly, before coming over to where Steve had begun to clear up. He grimaced, a tiny apologetic smile quirking his lips up.

"Sorry about that."

Steve shook his head at Bucky, feeling a little bad that he was pleased it could just be the two of them for awhile. He had had a pleasant time with his other self but he wanted to test out of if he was allowed to be a best friend now too or if Grant had taken that from him. If he had, then he knew Bucky was in good hands but he would be hurt just the same. He would have to suck it up and hold his head high until he was alone, but he'd do it.

"Do you want me to head out?" He made a little thumbing gesture over his shoulder. He didn't want to overstep his bounds here and yeah, all right, he hoped Bucky might tell him to stay.

A little bit of apprehension in his stomach danced together, pulling at his ribs. No one should be able to do this to him but Bucky proved that no matter how far apart they had gotten, any closeness at all was enough him to forget his other duties.

Edited 2017-02-20 11:54 (UTC)

Bucky just looked at Steve for a moment as though he could see the subtext question being asked there, which he pretty much could. He wasn't a fool, he knew Steve better than anyone even with his memories shot, and so he was well aware that this Steve must be feeling left out, confused, hesitant... just like they all were.

"No, you don't have to go."

One Steve was not interchangeable with another, he wasn't that fickle, but that didn't mean that he didn't have room for both Steves. This one had proven tonight that he had just the same respect for Bucky's boundaries and needs as Grant did, and Bucky hadn't felt an urge to attack him which dropped his tension levels significantly.

"I'd be okay with it if you dropped in more often now, you-- you're safe, like he is. Both of you."

"Not sure how safe I am, considering you still lost tonight," Steve said, following up the heady question with a tease. He grabbed another piece of pizza, one of the two slices left, another beer despite only being able to taste it and nothing more, and the bowl of chips. The dip was long gone.

He strolled back out to the living room and settled on the sofa, bowl of snacks on the center seat to wait for Bucky to follow him. He wanted to remember this moment. He wanted to share the same sort of happy memory that Grant did on a nightly basis, sitting on this sofa and looking into dark eyes. He always wondered what they had to talk about. They just stayed inside the whole day and spoke to each other. Could it be about Bucky's recovery or just the usual chatter they use to do all day long in the summer when they spent every waking moment together?

"I envy him a little," Steve mused. "I've never gotten drunk. Not sure how fun that actually looked but he looked like he could have used a backup dancer."

Bucky didn't hesitate before slipping onto the sofa beside him, one leg curled beneath him and their arms close enough to brush up against one another every so often. He didn't really know how often Steve had looked over to their lighted window and seen the two of them sitting side by side in envy, nor how much his heart had ached to have the same thing. All he knew was that this was Steve and he had made a mistake in keeping him away for so long.

"I've been drunk, it's not that great. Feels good at the time, like you're invincible or really funny, but it's not worth it the next morning. Trust me."

He relaxed a little, arm pressing further into Steve's as he reclined, finally letting the last of the day's tension drain out of him so that he looked less like the Soldier and more like Bucky.

"It was good-- tonight."

Steve could move the bowl and Bucky could lay back on him. He could put his arm over the back of the couch and they could be like hundreds of other couples right now, sitting on the sofa eating pretzels and chips and watching television. Steve didn't have to be the guy that went to the past to rescue his friend, Grant didn't have to be in the bedroom, and there didn't have to be HYDRA for a little while. But all of those things didn't just disappear because he wanted them to. Steve watched the curve of Bucky's face in profile for a long time before his smile returned, full force.

"It was real good tonight. Thanks for having me. Tony's going to be sorry he missed out on the fun." He didn't need to be talking about Tony Stark right now. That man had everything. He didn't need Steve's game of poker too. "But you've been doing great here, pal. Grant's been real good for you too. I'm glad he was there and not at Camp Leigh. I might never have been able to find you."

And chances were that Bucky never would have found himself.

"Do you two need anything that isn't here? I can get it for you."

Even though there was nothing but sincerity behind Steve's tone, he knew that there must be some underlying sense of envy. He had felt it too when he imagined Grant meeting with his Bucky and having back everything that he had ever wanted, and Steve must feel it too with Bucky having seemingly chosen Grant over him. He deserved to know the truth, and to not have it hanging over him.

"I ran from you and stayed with him because I thought I'd hurt you," he said, not at all an answer to the question. "My last mission was to hunt down and kill Captain America. I don't want to hurt anyone ever again, but you-- God, Steve, you least of all. That's why I stayed with him, he's not-- the orders weren't for Steve Rogers. It's nothing else, he doesn't have anything you don't."

He scrubbed a hand through hair that was growing out again, messy and rumpled.

"I still don't have a lot of memories, but I know that you-- both of you-- you make me feel more human. More like I might be able to smile again, like... I don't know. But I know now that I'm not going to attack you for nothing, tonight proved it, so I want you here too. You don't have to go. I want you both."

A certain warmth filled various areas of Steve's body as he sat there, watching Bucky fight through his words until they all just came out. He wanted to reach over and hug him, but he didn't. He wanted to groan and sink down on the sofa at how enticing some of those words were, but he didn't. All Steve did was smile and nod. "Not going anywhere if you don't want me to," he said, knowing that he still had a duty here--

No. No he didn't. He had a duty to Bucky first and foremost. He would like to be able to take care of both his best friend and the world but if he had to choose, it would be Bucky all the way. Steve finally did stretch his arm out along the back of the sofa, but he did not touch Bucky. He didn't know the extent of his abuse, not for certain, but he had closed in just two days ago on some old training footage that Natasha and Tony had watched when he brought it back and briefed him on the contents.

The film was of Bucky, the Bucky before he had been broken. And some of the parts even Tony hadn't been able to watch. Nat asked him not to look at it and so he hadn't.

But he still got the run down. And it still left him more loyal to Bucky than to anything else.

"For what it's worth, thanks. I just want to help in whatever way you need me to help. If that's stepping off, I can do that. If that's staying close--". Yeah. All right. He shouldn't have put it that way. "Well I can do that too."

It might never all come to the surface. Before the Soldier had been deemed ready to begin missions, there had been seven full years of training. Seven years where he had been systematically broken in every way that a person could be broken, until nothing was left but a hollow shell that could be made malleable in any way they chose. Three years following that came the intensive language training, weapons, vehicles, combat-- until he was a killer anyone could be proud of, pushed beyond the limits of any other mortal man.

Steve might never know how amazing he truly was, for it had taken ten years to fully make the Soldier, and only ten days from beginning to end to bring Bucky back to the surface enough to have him flee.

Bucky leaned back just enough so that the top of his head rested lightly atop Steve's arm on the back of the couch, eyes fixed on the ceiling and throat stretched over his adam's apple.

"It's staying close. I don't know if I'll ever get back who I was, or if I feel about either of you the way that Grant feels about me, but I know I can't lose either one of you."

"You're always you," Steve insisted, the feel of his still shorter than the last time they had met hair soft against his arm. That would probably be Tony's shampoo. Bruce only used the bargain brands like Steve, but Tony kept their toiletry stock filled with the good stuff and Steve had eventually given in when at the compound. It made his hair shinier than the serum initially did, more perfect and softer than his upper genetics allowed for to start. And now Bucky's was the same way. "Doesn't matter if you remember or--"

Suddenly, the remainder of what Bucky had said spilled into his gut and it twisted enough to leave Steve momentarily speachless. He didn't try to cover up for it though.

"When you say... How does he feel about you?" Because Bucky was not talking just friendship here. That was a given no matter what. So how had Grant come to tell Bucky their secret? And when he said 'either of you' did that mean that there might be a choice? That last slice of pizza seemed to be repeating on him, even if he never got sick anymore and he never had heartburn. His stomach was almost literally cast iron.

Bucky wouldn't have a chance to respond because Grant's door opened down the hall, visible from the couch, and he stepped boldly out into the hallway.

"Money where your mouth is, Barnes," he called, tipsy and challenging. "I've stepped more than one foot out of the room. Guess you're gonna have to come and hold me." Steve cleared his throat and pulled his arm back from behind Bucky's head as if they had been caught doing something they shouldn't. He sat forward, knees apart, elbows resting on his upper thighs. Grant gave pause too. "Oh. Sorry. Didn't mean to... Carry on...?" Maybe he slammed the door a little too hard rushing back inside but he felt like Steve felt right now, with his guts about to fall out.

Bucky looked incredibly confused when Grant appeared and then disappeared, and Steve looked as if he had been caught breaking the law. He simply didn't understand, he didn't have the memories yet to realise that potentially being in love with two people in a romantic sense wasn't the usual order of things and that neither one of them would likely be okay with it.

All he knew was that the atmosphere was suddenly so tense that a knife could cut it, and his relaxed posture melted away into corded muscles once more.

"What's going on?"

One of them had to tell him what the hell this was all about, because otherwise he wouldn't be able to help. He just had the distinct impression that he had hurt them, both of them, and that was his worst nightmare. Had he said something wrong? Done something wrong?

Jesus, he could feel himself on the edge of panic for it.

Steve hadn't been here yet for one of Bucky's panics. The time in the lab a few yards back didn't count. It didn't matter, however, if he had seen the before because he knew what to do, taking Bucky by the cheek and the back of the neck until they were looking one another in the eye. Sam had helped him with things like this, though Steve himself never had a panic attack. He'd just seen it a few times at the VA where Sam had volunteered in DC and still did from time to time in New York. He made an elaborate breath inwards and exhaled more slowly, hoping Bucky would get the idea and follow suit.

This was not a romantic overture. This was an attempt to help, nothing more. When Bucky's breathing eased, Steve let his hand drop. His fingers rubbed away the feel of skin on his jeans.

"There's two of us and one of you." Bucky Barnes from Grant's reality had died, shot in the head in an Italian experimental camp run by HYDRA. "If he told you how he feels about you, then you know how I feel about you. And if he's thinking like I'm thinking... We don't want to step on each other's toes here, Buck. He told you first. He... I don't know what you two have been doing, but it's fine. I'm not-- I'll still stay close for you. But... "

Steve rubbed a hand over his mouth. Trying to put this easily wasn't going to happen.

"We aren't going to want to be in competition with each other. So I want you to know that, ah, Buck, this is hard. I was never going to let you know how I--". No, he had to stay on message here. "I'm not going to make this harder on you. We're friends. You and I. And we'll be just friends. You don't have to choose, even if you decide you--". Imagine that. Bucky Barnes loving him in return? No, impossible. Bucky had his women. So, so many women.

"I don't understand, why does it have to be a competition?"

He rested his elbows on his knees, fingers laced together and head bowed so that the soft fall of his hair partially hid his expression. His voice was low, careful, as if he were stepping around mines that were buried just under the surface and even the barest of pressure could set one off.

"Wait-- No, this has to be with you both." He stood abruptly and went to the bedroom door, opening it up to look for Grant in the dimness, knowing that there was no way he would be asleep yet. "Hey-- I need to talk to you, so come and get a coffee and sober up some."

Whether or not he had all the pieces, he was going to explain his side of it to both Grant and Steve so that they didn't get all tangled in and around each other.

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