Deja Brew

Steve just stared at Bucky. He didn’t know what to say. How was he supposed to react to that?

“Steve. Tell me I’m crazy. Tell me I’m reading too much into it. Tell me that it is pure coincidence that your mom has the same name as his,” Bucky said, his voice raising slightly the more he spoke.

“Buck, I…” Steve said. He couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Holy shit. How the fuck did I not realize that your name was Steve Rogers. Like that Stevs Rogers.”

“I…”

“What? Are you going to tell me that I’m way off base here? Because I’m starting to think I’m right,” he said as he started pacing the studio.

“I didn't want…”

“You didn’t want what? To tell me?” Then he looked at Steve in horror. “Shit. I told you about my massive childhood crush on you. I told you my ridiculous theory that you were still alive. And I was fucking right. No wonder you weren’t going to tell me. What were you going to do, say the first date was fun but we’d be better off friends? Would you pretend to talk to me for a little while after, but then just stop. Was that your plan?”

“Buck,” Steve said, reaching out to Bucky.

Bucky slapped his hand away and started walking out of the room.

“Buck please,” Steve begged.

“I need to go,” Bucky said as he walked towards the elevator. “I need to process all of this. And don’t worry. Pepper had me sign a bunch of NDAs, so I won’t tell anyone your little secret,” he spat. Then he turned back to Steve one last time. “You asked her to make me sign those didn’t you? In case your little secret got out.”

The elevator doors opened, and Bucky walked in.

The second the doors closed, Steve collapsed onto the couch. He curled up into himself, finally letting out the tears that were threatening to spill.

He didn’t know how long he was laying there. He must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing he knew it was light out and the room smelled like bacon.

He wiped the gunk out of his eyes and looked over to the kitchen. Clint was cooking bacon, talking to Natasha who was sitting on the counter. He numbly dragged himself to the kitchen, praying that Clint made coffee.

Thankfully, there was a half full pot. Steve grabbed the biggest mug he could find and filled it to the brim. He took a big sip before turning to face his intruders.

“Why are you here?” He asked, Not in the mood for pleasantries.

“Good morning to you, too sunshine,” Nat said sarcastically.

“I repeat, why are you here.”

“Jarvis told me to come check up on you. Clint wanted to steal your coffee and food”

“Good to know my house is spying on me.” Steve made a point to raise his voice at the last few words.

“My apologies sir, but after what occurred last night I sensed you needed a friend. You typically go to Miss Romanov when you do,” Jarvis stated.

“What happened last night?” Natasha asked.

“What? The asshole spying robot in my ceiling didn’t tell you?”

“No sir, I figured I would leave that part up to you.”

“Thank you Jarvis. How kind of you,” Steven said sarcastically. He took another large sip of his coffee, then turned his attention back to his friends. “We’re not talking about it.”

“Steve.”

“Nat.”

“Jarvis was concerned enough to send me to check on you. What happened.”

“Bucky.”

“What the hell is a Bucky?” Clint asked, finally joining the conversation.

“The barista,” Nat told him.

“Who names their daughter Bucky? Or is it a nickname? What the hell would it be short for?” He mused, mostly to himself.

“Bucky is a man,” Steve told him.

“I’m sorry, what? Is Captain America even allowed to be gay?”

“Captain America can go fuck himself,” Steve growled.

“Woah. Sorry man. I didn’t mean to strike a nerve,” Clint apologized.

“So you told him?” Natasha asked gently.

“Nope.”

“Then what happened?”

“He figured it out.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. I fucking panicked and I couldn’t even think of what to say. I was planning on telling him on Friday. I was going to invite him over, cook dinner and then break it to him gently.”

“Did he at least tell you how he found out?” Clint asked hesitantly.

“His dad is a history buff and his sister is writing her senior thesis on me at NYU. Apparently a few weeks ago she was showing him pictures she found, specifically one of my mom.”

“That explains it,” Natasha deadpanned.

“He called last night when he finished work and asked if I wanted to come over for dinner. I told him I was already home and working on a painting, so he came here instead. After we ate, he asked if he could see the painting it did. It was a portrait of my mom. It took him a few minutes to realize, but when he did he freaked out a little. He accused me of deliberately not telling him.”

“I’m sorry Steve. Hopefully he comes around,” Natasha said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m not going to get my hopes up. Now can we not talk about this.”

“Sure thing buddy. Breakfast is done anyway. Let’s eat,” Clint said as he brought the food over to the kitchen table.

The three of them sat around the table and ate. Clint and Natasha kept up a steady stream of conversation. Steve would occasionally smile and nod to show he was somewhat paying attention. He knew they were trying to keep his mind off Bucky, and he appreciated it, but he also wanted to wallow in self pity for a while.

Once they finished eating, Clint and Natasha helped Steve clean up the kitchen. The pair offered to stay with him longer, but Steve declined. He told them that he just wanted to be alone for a while. As they left, Clint gave him a pat on the shoulder and Natasha pulled him into a hug.

When he was finally alone, Steve made his way to his studio. His heart ached as he looked at the portrait of his mother. He gingerly took it off the easel, and placed it off to the side. He would finish it another day. Today, he needed to paint his misery.

Like the day before, he spent hours hunched over the canvas. He didn't even realize what he was painting until he had finished. It was another memory from his time before he went under. It was a battle that he had lost in Germany.

It took place somewhere in the Black Forest. It was a miserable and rainy night. The ground was muddy from both the rain and the blood that was spilled. In the mud, laid the bodies of the men who had lost their lives that day. The wounded were being treated by medics. Then there was the Captain. He painted him off to the side, almost hiding in the shadows as he watched the scene unfold. His expression was cold, completely void of emotion. The branches and shadows near his body made it look as if he had horns and a tail. He was the one who led his men there. He was the reason that so many good men lost their lives. He was the reason that his relationship with Bucky ended before it even started.

Steve was brought back to reality when someone started shouting somewhere in his apartment.

“What the hell did you do to my new engineer,” he heard Tony shouting. “Jarvis, where is Steve hiding? I need to yell at him to his face, not just into the void.”

“ Captain Rogers is in his studio,” The A.I. told him.

“Stupid spying ceiling robot,” Steve mumbled to himself.

The door to his studio flew open. Tony opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. Steve followed his line of sight to the painting.

“If I knew a painting was all it would take to shut you up, I would have done it months ago,” Steve half-heartedly joked.

“You might want to see a therapist if this is what you’re painting,” Tony said, still staring at the painting in shock.

“I have a therapist. She’s the one who told me to paint. I felt awful, I painted something awful. Simple as that. Now, why are you bothering me?”

“What? Oh, right,” Tony said, getting himself together. “You broke my new engineer.”

“What makes you think I had something to do with it?”

“I sent Happy on a coffee run.”

“Not seeing how this is my fault.”

“I sent him to Deja Brew.”

“Get to the fucking point Stark. I’m not in the mood.”

“Ithoughtitwouldbefunnytogethimanicedcaptainamericano.”

“One more time? Slower.”

“I thought it would be funny to get him an iced Captain Americano, because, ya know, you two are dating but he doesn’t know you’re Cap. He took one look at it, walked over to the nearest trash can, and threw it away. When I asked him why he did that, he said ‘I want nothing to do with that asshole.’ Hence, your fault.”

“He figured it out before I had the chance to tell him. I panicked. He stormed out before I could get myself together long enough to string together a coherent sentence. He has every right to hate me.”

Tony pulled out his phone and began typing. After a minute, he put it away and looked at Steve expectantly.

“What?”

“Look at your phone.”

Steve did as instructed and pulled his phone out of his pocket. There was a text from Tony, as expected. The message contained an address. The address he dropped Bucky off to after their date on Saturday, to be specific.

“Why did you send me Bucky’s address.” He asked.

“So that you can go fix this. Or at least try to.”

“I wanted to give him time.”

“And I want him on the top of his game. If you don’t go on your own, I will put on the suit and fly you over there.”

“Fine. I’m going.”

“Great.”

Steve and Tony walked to the elevator together. The elevator made it way down, first to Tony’s lab and then to the ground floor.

Steve spent the whole trip to Bucky’s apartment trying to figure out what to say. By the time he was a block away, he had a pretty good idea of what he was going to say. Now he just had to hope he would be let through the front door.

He pressed the buzzer for Bucky’s apartment and prayed.

“Hello?” Bucky said through the speaker.

“It’s Steve. I was…”

“Go away Steve,” Bucky said, hanging up.

Steve pressed the buzzer again.

“Please, leave me the hell alone,” Bucky said through gritted teeth.

“Bucky, I just want to explain myself. If you still hate me afterwards, I’ll leave you alone.”

“No, and if you press that buzzer again I will call the cops,” Bucky threatened before he hung up again.

Steve stared at the door for a minute. Once he managed to tear his eyes away from it, he walked back in the direction of the tower.

He knew he shouldn’t have listened to Tony. He should have stuck to his guns and waited a few days before trying to reach out to Bucky. The fact that he went to his apartment probably made things worse.

As he was walking, he saw a liquor store. Without thinking, he walked in. He gave the cashier a nod, then walked over to the vodka. He grabbed three bottles of the cheapest on the shelf. The cashier gave him a weird look when he placed the bottles down, but he didn’t make a comment.

When Steve got back to his floor, he walked into the kitchen and opened one of the bottles. He took a long pull of it, draining nearly a third of it.

A common misconception about the serum is that he can’t get drunk. He can. He just metabolizes the alcohol faster than a normal human, so he has to drink more in a shorter period of time. Hence, three bottles of cheap vodka.

By the time he finished off the first bottle, he was somewhere slightly past buzzed. The second one was drained as quickly as the first. The third bottle came and went, just like the first two.

His vision started to blur. He was swaying on his feet. He knew if he tried to do anywhere he would stumble. He also knew he only had about twenty minutes before he was sober again.

Against better judgment, Steve decided to take the empty bottles to the recycling bin. Predictably, he stumbled the moment he decided to move. The bottles tumbled out of his arms, smashing on the hardwood floor. Steve wasn’t far behind them.

He stuck out his palms in an attempt to stop himself from falling. Instead, he got shards of vodka coated glass stuck through his palms and shins. He rolled over into his back, getting a few more pieces of glass embedded into his skin.

“Fucking shit,” he slurred, wiping a now bloody palm across his face. “Fuck!”

“Captain Rogers, I’ve contacted Mr.Stark to come check on you,” Jarvis informed him.

“Fuck you Jarvis. I know you’re a robot, but clearly I just want to lay on the floor and wallow in my misery.”

“I assumed so based on the amount of alcohol you consumed, but given the extent of your injuries I found it to be necessary.”

Steve stared up at the ceiling, praying that Tony was too busy with something to come and check on him. He wanted to prolong his suffering as much as he could. He deserved it.

“Steven, why did Jarvis just tell me you were lying on the…” Tony trailed off as he entered the kitchen. He looked down at Steve with a mix of shock and horror. “Shit, Jarvis, call Clint. I’m going to need help getting him to medical.”

“As you wish sir.”

“Don’t fucking do it Jarvis. I don’t need to go to medical. I’m fine,” Steve slurred.

“Really?” Tony asked. “Then stand up.”

“Fine,” Steve grumbled. He put his palms to the ground to lift himself up. Pain shot through his body as he pushed up from the floor. The glass shards in his palms further embedded themselves with the pressure he was putting on his hands. His vision blurred.

The next thing he knew, there were two pairs of hands hoisting him up off the ground and three sets of eyes on him with varying degrees of concern.

Of the three, Natasha was the most subtle. To someone who didn’t know her well, she wasn’t visibly reacting. She seemed to be staring blankly with her hand on her hips. If you did know her, you would notice that her eyes were widened with shock. She was putting more pressure on one foot, ready to spring into action if she was needed.

Clint was more obvious than her. He openly wore his concern on his face. It would be clear to anyone watching that he was concerned about the state he found his friend in. He was holding up as much of Steve’s weight as he could, trying to duck inter Steve’s arm to better support and move him. He looked like he knew how to handle a situation like this.

Tony was the most reactive. His eyes were wide with panic. He let off the vibe of someone who had absolutely no idea how to handle the situation that they were in. He was trying his best to help Clint get Steve stabilized, but he likely would have done better if he switched positions with Natasha.

When the two of them finally had Steve upright, Natasha guided them to the elevator. Steve knew they were talking, but all of their voices blended together. He was able to make out a few words, like blood, glass, and Banner, but everything else was a blur.

He didn’t know how long they were in the elevator or when they had managed to get him to medical. The next thing Steve knew, he was lying in a bed with an IV stuck in his arm and an annoying beeping noise. There were voices mumbling around him, trying to keep a low volume to avoid disturbing him.

After a few minutes, Steve felt coherent enough to let them know he was awake. He opened his eyes fully and looked around the room.

Clint and Natasha were sitting to his left in two of the chairs set up in the room, talking quietly amongst themselves. Dr. Banner was to his right, talking calmly to a pacing Tony. Natasha was the first to notice he was awake.

“Morning sleeping beauty,” she said uncharacteristically softly.

“Oh thank god you’re awake,” Tony squawked. He bolted over to Steve’s side, then began pelting him with questions. “What the hell was that, Steve? Why was your floor covered in broken glass? Why were you lying in it? Why were you so out of it? Were you drugged? Were you poisoned? How the hell would that even happen? How did…”

“Tony,” Bruce cut him off. “Give him some space. He just woke up.”

“Right, sorry. I was just worried. Not because I care about you though. I just didn’t want to explain to Fury why there was a dead Captain America in my tower.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, then asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. That’s why I was on my floor and covered in glass,” he retorted.

She gave him a stern look, raising one eyebrow to express her distaste with us response.

“Sorry. I just had a rough night.”

“Clearly,” Clint chimed in. “I mean, I’ve had some pretty bad nights. I might have fallen asleep in a dumpster or two, but I’ve never been that bad.”

“I do have a question, if you’re up for it Captain,” Bruce promoted.

“Ask away. I can’t guarantee I’ll answer.”

“It’s more about the serum than why you were in that state. When we ran blood tests, your blood alcohol level came back at 0.22. I thought you couldn’t get drunk with the serum.”

“I can. I just need to drink a lot more a lot faster.”

“That would explain the bottles,” Natasha sumized.

“So, why were you that drunk last night?” Tony asked.

“That would be your fault,” Steve informed him.

“My fault? How exactly?”

“Hmm, lets see. ‘You broke my engineer Steve. Go fix it Steve. I don't care that you want to give him time.’ Ringing any bells?”

“It couldn’t have gone that bad.”

“He threatened to call the cops on me. I’d say it went pretty bad.”

“Shit. But also, you only went on one date with the guy. How attached could you have been to him?”

“One date that stemmed from six months of flirting.”

“Okay, so you had a little crush before you asked him out. It’s okay. You’ll get over it.”

“I actually don’t think he will,” Bruce disagreed. “When Steve received the serum, it seemed to amplify everything. His height, physical strength, stamina, speed. It was reported that his memory became even better. Every aspect of him grew stronger. It’s likely that his emotions were affected as well. It would explain why he had such a visceral reaction to the rejection.”

“All I’m getting out of this is that not only has Captain America made my life worse, but he’s also made it so that I will feel the effects more. Great. Any other ways he’s going to fuck up my life?” Steve asked rhetorically.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news Captain, but we have a problem.”