[ Both hands land on Bucky's shoulders to steady him as the crowd jostles around them. Not an easy task keeping both feet planted on the ground when his friend's wordless greeting permeates his senses in that moment so that he can't tell up from down. There's a lot they hide from each other, or tried to hide from each other, but right now he lets his mind remain open, shields down, reverberating emotions humming along his skin. He lets out a short, breathless laugh, ignoring the crowd pushing at their sides to wrap his arms around Bucky, clapping his back and swallowing hard, riding the elation and letting the touch of fear echo in his chest - a quiet, wordless acknowledgment of the something similar if not shared. A century could have passed in the time that he slept, the same fate as the stranger in the glass coffin, sleeping deep in the Station's belly.
A huff. ]
- glad to be back. [ His voice is more rough than he'd like. ]
[Steve's disorientation isn't easily ignored over the link and Bucky tries to pull himself back mentally, but finds himself spilling more instead. A quiet kick in his gut for overloading Steve, for still not being good at this despite training with Sam. He's distracted as he remembers to return the hug, curling his one arm about Steve, so unabashedly relieved at his friend's return.
The depth to Steve's voice, the rough edges, reminds him of the 2016 Steve, but his arm reaches around too much of Steve for him to be bigger.]
Want a hotdog? [To get out of the crowd, to get something in Steve's stomach after his long sleep.]
[ In this case, he doesn't mind being overwhelmed. A direct link to Bucky's mind hasn't always made connecting or understanding easier, sometimes the direct opposite. Right now, it feels like welcome relief. Bucky's presence is wanted, more than Steve's mouth could ever form the words around, and his grip on the connection only wavers once Bucky speaks, his attention returning to their surroundings again. ]
And a cold beer. [ He disentangles himself from Bucky, cocking his head with a half grin and a silent lead the way. Both hands shove into his pockets. ] You taking part in the dog and pony show? [ The competition. ]
[Hot dog and a cold beer. Bucky can definitely handle that. He's reluctant to disentangle entirely with the crowd jostling around them, so he tries to curl his fingers into the fabric of Steve's shirt. Shaking his head, Bucky forms the words in the link rather than speaking, not wanting them to get lost in the mix of the crowd as they move.]
(Not my thing.) [He avoided it to keep the Soldier down, but the Soldier came out anyway. Bucky's link dims and quiets for a moment, not wanting to share that part with Steve, but his walls are incomplete and transparent.]
[ His end of the link hums, active in thought and question. ]
(Sam said you guys had a fight.) [ Taking the cue to switch back to mindspeak. With a tug he tries to pull away from Bucky's grip on his shirt, instead moving to loop their arms together loosely at the elbow. ]
[Bucky hesitates for a moment at the not-question. Flashes of that night play before he can stop them. Sitting at the register in the pet store, looking up at the chime, and Sam's memories fill in the blanks. A gun pressed against Bucky's head, the lights go out, and Bucky kills two of the would-be-robbers before he turns on Sam. Bucky's own memories come back after that, when he wakes up in a halo of glass with a pounding headache, shouting at Sam about the promise--- the promise he kept from Steve he's remembering now. Next time is the last time. How Bucky planned on never hurting another innocent bystander and the bone-deep grief that spilled out of him when it did happen again without the end he expected.
Not really 'welcome back buddy' stuff.
Bucky tries to withdraw, to tuck it all back in, but he's already let too much of it through. He and Sam shouted and screamed at each other before Bucky ran. Then there were days of locking himself away, rationing his food to keep himself from needing to go out into crowds.
An attempt to say no to Sam resulted in the programming burning Bucky from the inside out. He's not supposed to be able to do that. Sam carried him to a hotel room, let Bucky crawl into his head while waiting out HYDRA's latent defenses against an insubordinate soldier, and then they had a long conversation about the symbiote, about Bucky's apparent powers that set off the Soldier.]
[ The memories create a double-vision, splitting the crowds in front of them with the shop, a cold barrel ghosting against his skull. Muscle memory kicks in, his mind working to separate the threads of reality and memory, self and other, while the rest of him processes the information. The robbery he knows. A phantom headache pounds in his head, he pushes it away to disentangle the rest of the scene - a thought, a promise. His blood runs cold.
Sam.
Even if he wanted to stop they can't, his feet keep walking, arm still around Bucky's. He's leading now, finding a makeshift alley between haphazardly constructed stalls to bypass the street traffic. Goes quiet, expression turned inward. His grip on their connection remains, soft and pulsing with activity, but indecipherable beyond a few flickers of concentration. ]
Can we head back to your place? [ He's not so hungry anymore. ]
[Bucky realizes he's done something wrong far too late. He's spent most of his time on the Waypoint with Sam and since the robbery they've been deeper in each others' heads than ever. And, if Bucky's shields were bad in the past, they're worse now. The momentum between him and Steve changes, from leading to following, from easygoing to tense. Steve's end of the connection is quiet and Bucky can't help but feel like he's disappointed his friend.
Once out of the thoroughfare, Bucky speaks up, not wanting to let this hang.]
I asked him to. [The promise, he means. After Concordia. After returning and feeling more helpless than ever.]
[ Steve's gaze drops to the ground, shoulders hunching forward. ]
I know. [ He's not angry at Sam, or Bucky. He pulls in a deep breath, shaking his head as he exhales and some of the tension falls from his shoulders. And when he's sure that his thoughts are clear, he lowers the shields and widens the connection between them again, just enough for a thin stream: the sense of coming home after a long day's work, the shock of bad news, the frustration of being helpless to act. His jaw tightens. ]
Wasn't sure how long I'd been asleep. [ What I'd wake up to. How much time had passed. Who would be gone.
I don't want to lose you is what he struggles to say. And he won't pretend to be okay with this promise Bucky had Sam make, the thought of them going through with it makes him want to scream at them, but he knows that's not right either. ]
[Bucky follows Steve's gaze down to the pavement, unsure of how to move or what to say. Part of him wants to tell Steve that he's not the Bucky from the past, that he's dangerous, that anyone in their right mind would lock him up or execute him. He's a killer, a criminal, and nothing like the charmer he's seen in pieces of Steve's memories. If he was, they wouldn't be having this conversation.
The helplessness, though, he can understand, to feel like everyone around him is moving so fast when he's standing still. Combined with keeping a death pact secret would frustrate anyone, including Steve.
Instead of saying anything, he flits through his memories for the argument the day after, when Sam was pissed and Bucky was a coward.]
(You're not a coward. ) [ Conviction tinged with frustration hums across the line again, and he lifts his eyes to watch Bucky. Another pause. ]
(If you need space, that's one thing. You leaving to protect us - or asking Sam to make you that promise -) [ He shakes his head, shutting his eyes for a second. ] (- you aren't sparing us from anything.)
[ He meets Bucky's memories with his own, the three men at the Bearings on Concordia from Steve's perspective, the comfort and ease he felt from their presence, the irreplaceable sense of belonging in that moment on another planet that has little to do with a past Bucky doesn't fully remember or a future Steve never lived. ]
[When Steve looks up at him, Bucky doesn't return the favor. Instead, he keeps his gaze down, but he doesn't need to see Steve's face to feel the thrum of his conviction. It reverberates over the link, echoing around in the empty space in Bucky's head rather than sinking in. Like rainwater on asphalt, the sentiment splashes everywhere but doesn't soak in.
Memories bubble over the link, full of warmth and contentment, and Bucky bites his lip. He doesn't want to take that away from Steve.
So he doesn't say anything at all, though he can't exactly hide the fact that he doesn't believe Steve.]
[ He goes quiet again for a few minutes, biting his tongue and continuing to let the memory of those feelings echo across the link mingling with rough threads of frustration and stubborn metal links. ]
You don't have to believe me. It's the truth. [ He wouldn't let it stand if it were anyone else calling Bucky Barnes a coward. ]
[Truth is a strange thing, in Bucky's mind. What's true for one person is false for another; what someone believes to be absolute, is subjective to his fellow. The fact is that he ran from the pet store, to protect Sam and the rest of the Nest and to protect himself from the guilt of the death he caused. No amount of stewing can replace the lives he took and no amount of believing in truth will absolve him.
Yet, he tries to shutter himself in--- to keep Steve out--- and pushes up mental walls he should have built before looking for Steve, before spilling everything onto his friend without warning.
This isn't Concordia. Things have happened here that shouldn't.]
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A huff. ]
- glad to be back. [ His voice is more rough than he'd like. ]
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The depth to Steve's voice, the rough edges, reminds him of the 2016 Steve, but his arm reaches around too much of Steve for him to be bigger.]
Want a hotdog? [To get out of the crowd, to get something in Steve's stomach after his long sleep.]
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And a cold beer. [ He disentangles himself from Bucky, cocking his head with a half grin and a silent lead the way. Both hands shove into his pockets. ] You taking part in the dog and pony show? [ The competition. ]
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( Not my thing. ) [He avoided it to keep the Soldier down, but the Soldier came out anyway. Bucky's link dims and quiets for a moment, not wanting to share that part with Steve, but his walls are incomplete and transparent.]
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( Sam said you guys had a fight. ) [ Taking the cue to switch back to mindspeak. With a tug he tries to pull away from Bucky's grip on his shirt, instead moving to loop their arms together loosely at the elbow. ]
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Not really 'welcome back buddy' stuff.
Bucky tries to withdraw, to tuck it all back in, but he's already let too much of it through. He and Sam shouted and screamed at each other before Bucky ran. Then there were days of locking himself away, rationing his food to keep himself from needing to go out into crowds.
An attempt to say no to Sam resulted in the programming burning Bucky from the inside out. He's not supposed to be able to do that. Sam carried him to a hotel room, let Bucky crawl into his head while waiting out HYDRA's latent defenses against an insubordinate soldier, and then they had a long conversation about the symbiote, about Bucky's apparent powers that set off the Soldier.]
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Sam.
Even if he wanted to stop they can't, his feet keep walking, arm still around Bucky's. He's leading now, finding a makeshift alley between haphazardly constructed stalls to bypass the street traffic. Goes quiet, expression turned inward. His grip on their connection remains, soft and pulsing with activity, but indecipherable beyond a few flickers of concentration. ]
Can we head back to your place? [ He's not so hungry anymore. ]
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Once out of the thoroughfare, Bucky speaks up, not wanting to let this hang.]
I asked him to. [The promise, he means. After Concordia. After returning and feeling more helpless than ever.]
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I know. [ He's not angry at Sam, or Bucky. He pulls in a deep breath, shaking his head as he exhales and some of the tension falls from his shoulders. And when he's sure that his thoughts are clear, he lowers the shields and widens the connection between them again, just enough for a thin stream: the sense of coming home after a long day's work, the shock of bad news, the frustration of being helpless to act. His jaw tightens. ]
Wasn't sure how long I'd been asleep. [ What I'd wake up to. How much time had passed. Who would be gone.
I don't want to lose you is what he struggles to say. And he won't pretend to be okay with this promise Bucky had Sam make, the thought of them going through with it makes him want to scream at them, but he knows that's not right either. ]
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The helplessness, though, he can understand, to feel like everyone around him is moving so fast when he's standing still. Combined with keeping a death pact secret would frustrate anyone, including Steve.
Instead of saying anything, he flits through his memories for the argument the day after, when Sam was pissed and Bucky was a coward.]
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( If you need space, that's one thing. You leaving to protect us - or asking Sam to make you that promise - ) [ He shakes his head, shutting his eyes for a second. ] ( - you aren't sparing us from anything. )
[ He meets Bucky's memories with his own, the three men at the Bearings on Concordia from Steve's perspective, the comfort and ease he felt from their presence, the irreplaceable sense of belonging in that moment on another planet that has little to do with a past Bucky doesn't fully remember or a future Steve never lived. ]
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Memories bubble over the link, full of warmth and contentment, and Bucky bites his lip. He doesn't want to take that away from Steve.
So he doesn't say anything at all, though he can't exactly hide the fact that he doesn't believe Steve.]
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You don't have to believe me. It's the truth. [ He wouldn't let it stand if it were anyone else calling Bucky Barnes a coward. ]
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Yet, he tries to shutter himself in--- to keep Steve out--- and pushes up mental walls he should have built before looking for Steve, before spilling everything onto his friend without warning.
This isn't Concordia. Things have happened here that shouldn't.]