don't look at me like that
Natasha’s prediction was right – Steve looked like shit the next morning. The bruises looked like patches all over his face, and added with the words Natasha forced him to swallow last night, he was a sight.
“Pancakes?” Wanda asked, handing a heaping plate to Steve. Vision was at the stove, complete with a chef’s hat over his hairless head.
“Thanks, Wanda,” Steve said appreciatively. “How’s Bucky this morning?” He pretended to be busy cutting into his tower of pancakes, forgetting the syrup.
“Still asleep,” Natasha answered. “He woke up last night. Mumbled stuff about flying rockets and the moon. Poured some water down his throat and he fell back asleep.”
“Hm,” Steve nodded, still not looking up.
“You can go see him, Steve. I think he’s fine now,” she said, trying to soften yesterday’s blow.
Steve did not react.
Sam was carefully staying out of their conversation. “Syrup?” he offered as though it was a typical Thursday morning at the Tower.
“Thank you,” Steve said and mindlessly poured it all over his pancakes.
“His new arm is almost done,” Tony beamed proudly. “If he can take it, that is.”
“He might need more time.” Natasha was glad Sam was the one who said it instead of her.
Tony shrugged, unbothered. He knocked back a glass of orange juice and stood up. “I have a conference meeting. Pepper sends her love from LA. See you all later, children.” Tony’s business suit materialized over his body by molecular transformation while he walked, without him even stopping until he was in the elevator. The doors slid shut behind him.
“The wound has stopped bleeding,” Sam said.
“I’ll continue my research later, see if I find anything,” Bruce announced. “Man, these are good,” he said around a mouthful of pancakes.
“Thanks,” Wanda said sheepishly. “Vision, come sit with us.”
“I don’t need to eat,” Vision declined. “I should like to get these eggs done before breakfast is over.”
Bruce peered over from his seat. “I think those eggs were done yesterday.”
Natasha cracked a grin, despite herself. Steve did, too.
A worried look crossed Vision’s face. “Oh, goodness. I apologize. Let me start again –“
“God, just sit down,” Wanda said lightly.
“Well, if you insist,” Vision said, unfailingly polite. He took off his hat and sat at the table. “Might I assist anyone in tea or coffee?”
“No, Vision,” Steve said. “Please, just enjoy yourself.”
Breakfast carried on as usual. The air was breathable again, Natasha almost felt like all the weight has been lifted. Once the plates were done, Sam excused himself to the VA. Wanda, on the other hand, had to attend the online classes she was taking and Vision just…evaporated again, much to Wanda’s chagrin.
“You can’t avoid me forever, Steve,” Natasha said softly.
“I’m not.”
“I’m not sorry for saying those things last night, but I am sorry for how they came out.”
Steve finally looked at her. “Natasha, stop. I’m not mad at you.”
She believed him. When Steve Rogers says something, you believe him. It was just how things work – not because of his status as captain, but because of his honesty.
“I’m mad at myself. You’re right – he’s a different person now and I don’t know him the way I used to. I’ve been selfish – pushing him and pushing him –“
“There you are,” Natasha said in a sing-song voice. “The dumb Steve that I know.”
“Well I was.”
“He’s not getting better any faster with us going around in circles.”
Steve seemed to consider this at least.
Natasha wiped the last plate dry and smacked him with the dishrag playfully. “Now shut up and do me a favor – put these away,” she said, gesturing at the stack of dried plates.
Steve did as she asked without hesitation. “Next time, we use the dishwasher.”
Natasha feigned surprised. “You know how to use one?”
“Very funny.”
“My jokes are better than yours.”
Steve was about to retort, but he just ended up smiling. Natasha smiled back at him. Maybe they really were going to be okay.
Which meant one more thing left to contend with.
***
Natasha opened Bucky’s door as quietly as possible. He was sitting up in bed, sagging against the pillows and headboard, dark circles heavy under his eyes despite having slept for almost 20 hours. His metal arm was removed. Some of the blood had seeped through the white bandage on his shoulder. An IV line was hooked to a blood bag and into a vein in his right hand.
“How are you?” Natasha asked, crawling next to him in bed. They had changed his t-shirt and sweatpants yesterday, and threw it all out. It was his favorite t-shirt but the blood was impossible to wash out. Now he was dressed in a ratty band t-shirt with another pair of sweatpants.
“Tired,” he croaked. “Is everyone afraid of me?”
Natasha was going to say something sarcastic, like “Oh, terrified” but she was worried he might take it seriously. “We missed you at breakfast. Tony’s got a new arm for you.”
A hint of a smile changed the line of his lips, his eyes showing how deeply touched he was. It disappeared as soon as it came as he gingerly traced the healing cut on Natasha’s lip with his flesh hand. “I’m still sorry.”
Natasha nuzzled her face into his hand, and kissed his palm. “I’m just sorry I can’t kiss you.”
Bucky chuckled softly. It warmed Natasha’s insides. “Me too.” Natasha laid her head against his chest, feeling his breathing and heartbeat, finally beating calm and steady. “Are we not going to talk about everything I said to you last night?”
“We don’t. You need rest.”
Natasha felt Bucky’s nimble fingers gently playing with a lock of her hair. “We’re okay?”
“Of course we’re okay.”
“You and I, are we okay?”
It was then she understood what he meant. “Nothing could ever change how I feel about you,” she sighed, wrapping her a leg up over Bucky’s hips. She rubbed a cheek against his chest to prove her point.
“That was the only thing I kept from you.” Bucky’s voice was quiet and haunted. “I tried to shove it away from my thoughts. I never wanted to think about it again.”
“Then don’t.”
After a silence, Bucky finally asked, “Where’s Steve?”
Natasha ran her hands through Bucky’s brown hair. “He didn’t know if you were ready to see him.”
Natasha felt Bucky flinch. “God. I was such an ass.”
“Stop.” She leaned over on one elbow to look him in the eye. “Wasn’t your fault.”
Bucky fiddled with a button on Natasha’s jacket. “What about the next time this happens?“
Natasha tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear. “Then we’ll deal with that like we dealt with this.”
“What if I hurt anyone even worse next time? What someone d—what if I kill someone? Nat, you have to put me down –“
“Shhh,” Natasha hushed him. “We’ll keep working on figuring out what your triggers are. Speak to a new therapist. Uncover more memories to see what else is buried in there, if you’re up to it.” It pained Natasha to say that. She had always believed that what Bucky didn’t remember of his days with Hydra wouldn’t hurt him, but should they resurface again with no warning…
“Okay,” Bucky whispered.
“You know,” Natasha said, “Steve wants to take you back to Brooklyn. Visit a few places. See what home looks like. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
Bucky stayed quiet for a while. Finally, he said, “Can I see him?”
Natasha smiled. “Sure.” She lightly tapped a finger on his perfect, straight nose. “Let me go get him. Want him to bring over some leftover pancakes?”
Bucky smiled emptily. “I love pancakes.”
She slid out of the bed, slightly nervous for some reason. Steve was in the living room of his floor. He was watching a historical documentary which, for him, probably happened during his childhood.
He saw her standing there and hit the mute button.
“He wants to see you. He’s okay.”
Natasha saw the relief on Steve’s face. “Alright,” he said, getting up. As he passed her, he said “You know, that farmhouse might be really good for him. He wants to. You guys should go for it.”
Natasha felt touched that Steve was willing to share the only tie left to his past with her. Bucky was all Steve had. “Maybe once he’s stable enough,” she replied softly. “You can come visit anytime, Steve.”
Steve grinned. He headed down the hallway towards Bucky and Natasha’s floor.
Natasha glanced at the TV and realized that Steve was watching a WW2 documentary. She unmuted the TV. As expected, Steve and Bucky were featured in passing – two young soldiers, inseparable on the battlefield. This was sometime after Bucky’s capture in Azzano, and there was already a dead look in his eyes. There were only glimpses, but she saw them.
She sighed and put her feet up on the coffee table. So maybe Bucky will never be fully restored. So what? He was happy here, as happy as he could be, and he was loved. Against all odds, he was reunited again with both Steve and Natasha. Most people weren’t as lucky. Then again, most people weren’t as cursed, either.
Grabbing the remote, she cranked up the volume to quiet her mind. It was going to be a long and slow journey, and she knew it. The credits rolled and Natasha barely realized it, caught up in her thoughts. She turned the TV off and took the stairs to her and Bucky’s floor. From behind the closed door in their living area, she distantly heard Steve and Bucky talking and laughing. Just like old times.
Natasha smiled at herself and grabbed her coat. She planned to drop by an antique store. Maybe Bucky would like to have a gramophone in their farmhouse, someday.