fossilised | For Steve

For Steve

[This is a bad idea.

Bucky knows it as soon as he stops outside the little community centre where these classes run and he sees the other students milling about, chatting to each other in their own little cliques. The thing has been running for a while, it's an art group for anyone with any sort of mental health issue - depression, anxiety, psychosis. He's here for PTSD, practically bullied into it by his therapist at the VA, under the instructions that he needs to get out and start socialising more.

There are only six other people, four women and two men, and it already feels like too large a crowd. He makes sure his prosthetic is properly covered by a glove and long sleeve, stuffed into his pocket so nobody can tell it hangs strangely, and slouches in at the back. From the conversations he can overhear, blonde woman and redhead woman have anxiety issues, brunette #1 and the two men all have depression, and brunette #2 has psychosis. They're all so open with each other, chatting about medications and coping techniques and the work they've been doing in class already.

One of them approaches him and asks his name, and what he's there for, but he just glowers at her until she retreats again. He doesn't want anyone to know why he's here, and he's only here so Wilson will stop goddamn riding him about it.

He slumps into the seat nearest the back and waits for the teacher to arrive, already sure this is going to be a waste of time...]

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[Steve lets Bucky sleep as long as he can. Bucky doesn't get enough sleep, and Steve has lived with pain so long he can power through it. He also doesn't want to try getting it from Bucky without waking him. Messing with sleeping Bucky was what got them into this mess in the first place.

So it isn't until the pain is damn near debilitating that Steve finally decides to wake him, standing just outside Arm's reach to gently call Bucky's name.]

... Bucky? Buck?

[He doesn't sleep particularly deeply at any time, and the combination of Steve calling out for him and his dog nudging her wet nose into his neck when she sees someone trying to get his attention, makes his eyes snap open.]

...what? What is it? What's wrong?

[He's a bit disorientated, but he's not lashing out.]

[Steve gives him a few moments to get his bearings, smiling a little to see Bucky's in a better mental place than he was last time.]

Meds?

[He tries to keep most of the strain out of his voice.]

Oh.

[A look of concern spasms over his face, but it doesn't sink back into the guilt of before. He pushes off the couch and rubs his hand through his hair.]

You've gotta eat something with them, the nurse said, what do you want?

[And then, faux casual:]

I guess Natasha might've called?

Cold pizza is fine.

[It's ready to go, and while Steve doesn't feel hungry he's taken painkillers of this caliber on an empty stomach before and knows it isn't something he wants to repeat. The burned hand learns best, as the saying goes.]

Yeah... yeah she did. We had a talk.

[He is Not Happy about that, but. What's done is done.]

How are you not dead yet?

[It's a hint of the sass he had before all this happened, feeling a bit better that even though a Talk had been had, she hadn't shown up to kick him out. That felt like both she and Sam were saying it was okay to take this second chance.]

You can't eat cold pizza when you've been hurt, you've gotta eat healthy. I'll make you an omelette.

[He tilts his head back towards Steve, something cautious but hopeful in his expression.]

She doesn't think you should be kicking me out?

[It's on the tip of Steve's tongue to say that it doesn't matter what Natasha thinks because it's his and Bucky's relationship, not hers, and he would appreciate it if everyone stopped treating him like he was made of glass.

The cautious but hopeful expression kills that sentiment though. Bucky's worried. Bucky has every right to be worried. It's not about you, Steve he reminds himself.]

I talked her out of it. I think so anyway, if she doesn't break in to do it herself in the next twenty minutes we're in the clear.

[Right. Okay. He can do this, then. He abandons the kitchen long enough to lean over to Steve and press the lightest of kisses to his lips, trying not to aggravate the mess that his face was at the moment.]

Then I guess I don't have a choice but to stick around. Though I gotta ask, Rogers, when am I gonna start benefiting from those sweet post-it privileges you got for volunteering as art teacher to the broken and hopeless? It's the only reason I'm with you, you know?

[Back to the kitchen.

Why are there no eggs? Why is there nothing usable in this kitchen except sugar, coffee, bread, and leftover pizza? How is Steve not dead in a corner somewhere?]

[The kiss does a lot to brighten Steve’s mood, bringing a smile to his face. He takes a seat on the couch, just so he can get off his feet and because he’s worried if he sits on his bed he’s going to pass out from the pain or exhaustion or both.]

Mmm? I have some in my desk, I suppose I can share the bounty.

[He ends up bringing Steve a plate of cold pizza and his medication, carefully portioned out, thanks to the dearth of eggs.]

Maybe I'll grab some after you don't look like you're about to collapse any more. Seriously, your first boxing lesson is how to duck.

I know how to duck.

[Steve is not unaware of the irony of saying that through a broken nose as he takes the pills first before eating the cold pizza.]

I was not expecting to have to duck at the time.

Steve, from all you've told me about your life, you do not know how to duck. Duck, weave, and run. All good lessons.

[Though there was still some tension about his shoulders, the fact that both Sam and Natasha had given him permission to continue had made him easier in his decision to stay. More himself again.]

You don't get to say that you know how to duck through a broken nose.

It's my nose and I'll decide what's best for it.

[No Steve is not ever going to give up the point that this isn't a big deal.]

[He can't help the snort that escapes him before he moves to press the lightest kiss to the top of Steve's head.]

Fine, so let me ask you if you've been smart enough to call off work yet, or if I'm gonna have to do it for you?

[Sure it was just a broken nose to anyone else, but Steve looked pale too and the nurse had warned that not resting even from an injury like this could easily lead to a spiral of illnesses.]

[Steve opens his mouth to defend himself only to close it again, cheeks going somewhat red and mouth turning into a frown.]

... I ... I mean, I like never call out so if I forget...

[Sooooo yeah he really forgot to call.]

You're kinda an idiot, anyone ever tell you that?

[He throws the phone at Steve.]

Call them, I'm gonna go and shower, get some fresh clothes from upstairs, okay?

[Steve sighs. Yes, he has been told before. This is one of the first times where he feels like it, though.]

Right. ... Come back, though, yeah?

Yeah. Fifteen minutes, twenty at the outside, I'll be back.

[He doesn't wait around any longer, slipping out to pad back upstairs on silent feet.

Which means he's not there when a knock happens at Steve's door, Sam having come around as promised.]

(ooc: you got sam this time or shall I smash cut to Sam waiting for Bucky?)

[Time is a distant thing, Steve chewing thoughtfully at the cold pizza and staring out his window, looking at the city without really seeing it. When there’s a knock at the door, he assumes it’s Bucky. So he gets up again, making his way over to it and opening the door.

He blinks slowly upon seeing Sam there instead.]

You aren’t Bucky?

[Yes, it’s a question. Sometimes the meds do funny things.]

[ooc: I can do Sam for a bit, while Bucky is out!]

[This wasn't the first house call that Sam has made since he started doing this sort of work. It's not one of his favourite parts of the job, it's never good to hear that one of his vets has gone off the deep end and hurt someone. At least this could be worse.]

Nope, what gave me away?

[He's met Steve a couple of times, the guy always goes to every voluntary training course and seems nice enough. He never would have pegged him for Bucky's type.]

You mind if I come in?

[Steve does know Sam too, and he's normally quicker on the draw but pain meds slow him down a bit so it takes a little for him to recognize where he knows Sam from.]

Oh! Sam, you're Sam. Come in, sorry.

[Steve steps aside so Sam can come on in]

I have cold pizza in the fridge and juice and... I'm sure other stuff?

That's okay, I brought supplies.

[He holds up two grocery bags stuffed full of things, considering he did tell Bucky that he would bring some proper food and make sure things got done.]

You're not looking so good, Steve, how about you tell me what happened?

[Steve nods, gesturing to the fridge and the rest of the kitchen as if to tell Sam to make himself at home. He sits down in the meantime.]

It looks worse than it is. Also I just took some painkillers so I'm a little... [He gestures his hand like 'not quite all there'.]

Uh huh, I got it, but maybe you can still tell me what you remember?

[He got the story from Bucky, but he knows from long experience that the sufferers tend not to be the most reliable narrators for situations like this.]

And how about you tell me why I didn't know about you and Bucky until today? I thought we were kind of friends, Steve, I'm hurt.

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For Steve

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