worthallthis | The Last Voyages: IC Inbox

It seems today he's more subdued than last time, so there's no shoving or scrambling. There's a little hunch, not quite a flinch but close, as Steve leans over him, but once he realizes it's just a jacket, he tugs it closer around him like a blanket. He will never not take an additional layer of warmth. The fact that this one smells like Steve is... both better and worse than something neutral. Ugh.

"Mission focus," he says, low and rough. "It's what you wanted. Then got confused."

The fact that Bucky doesn't throw the sweatshirt in his face means... a lot. More than it probably should, honestly, but when has Steve ever been reasonable about anything.

Still, "Yeah, well. Maybe it's not the right thing for you." He'd just wanted to try something. To help.

But then, "I guess there's a reason you didn't want me to find you," he huffs out, softly. Maybe thinking this time, things would be different than how they'd gone back home was just stupid. He'd promised Bucky, before, the Bucky he'd married, that he'd try to be here for him.

But this Bucky, with these experiences...

"I'm sorry. I know you wanted orders, or protocols, or whatever, but - maybe you shouldn't be getting them from me."

Orders he can't follow aren't... necessarily better than none at all. But he's pretty sure-- inching up to 83%, now-- that Steve isn't going to punish him for failing. And it's not like anyone else is offering. His warden has so far been very careful not to give him anything resembling an order (he's only had her for a couple days, anyway, at this point), and he only gets them from the custodial warden for like six hours out of twenty-four. Which leaves him with eighteen more to fill.

He hunches in his temporary, protective, Steve-smelling blanket and works in not hyperventilating, first of all, and not slipping back into that state, second of all. "What did you mean," he finally asks. "Didn't want you to find me."

Steve is definitely not going to punish him; he figures the best way to prove that is to simply not do it. And that's pretty easy.

At the question, he maybe makes a face, but yeah - he'd said it. He might as well explain it. He shuffles back a bit and plants his butt on the floor instead of his own cushion, a little closer but not exactly in arms' reach.

"Back home - after the helicarriers. You disappeared for two years. Definitely didn't want me to find you." Because he'd definitely tried. Maybe not the full two years, exactly, because there had been Ultron in the middle there, but still.

"I mean - it was your prerogative. Your choice. Even if it didn't start out that way." Steve hadn't been there, he can't say. "And it can be your choice here."

He considers that for a long moment. His original urge to run, to avoid the hell out of this person who made him so angry and afraid he had to hit and keep hitting instead of just ending it properly. How long it took to come prod Steve about being small versus being big, because he'd been scared almost out of his mind about it. How conversations with Steve always seem to end in freakouts and malfunctions and general upset. For both of them, it seems like.

But he keeps coming back, too. Something about this situation makes it different than whatever happened "back home". Because his imagination is still kind of limited, and he really doesn't like thinking about any other (better) versions of himself, he doesn't have any idea what that could be. He does know he's not going to avoid this asshole for two years, though.

So finally he says, maybe a little stubbornly, "I'm not him."

"I know," Steve says, and... okay, there's maybe more exasperation behind it than he means to put, but, "I know that."

But the thing is, "You're you. You've always been you. Even when you don't remember, you're you. I don't - know how else to put it."

He wants to get up, but that would probably be bad, so he just pulls his legs closer, digs his fingers into the fabric of his jeans. "I don't expect you to feel the same way about anything. I know I've said it. But - Buck, you're not some weird alternate universe version of some guy I knew."

Steve huffs a little. "Believe me, I've met those. And you know what? They were still you, one way or the other. That's why - I don't know. If I'm bad for you, if it's bad for you to be around me, I get it. If you don't want to be the guy you think I want you to be, then - I get it. But don't pretend I don't know you, like I keep comparing you to somebody else. I'm not."

He blows out a breath. "But if it's easier for you to think that way, then - I don't know." Because Steve will do anything for Bucky, but... he doesn't know how well he'd be able to pretend this isn't Bucky. Clearly his past actions have shown that.

That. Is not the reaction he expected. He did not expect to be ranted at. It takes him a minute to get through all that, and push any feelings he has about that to the side (because there's a lot of complicated feelings there that he does not want to deal with right now, maybe ever), and finally settle on a "Steve you dumbass" look.

"I'm not avoiding you for two years. Like him." Maybe that will make his point clearer? Since this time he's actually articulating it with actual words instead of implications. He forgot how dumb Steve is sometimes, apparently. ( ... wait, when did he know Steve was dumb. Train-guy probably, ugh.)

Frankly, it's maybe a little sad how much that look is Steve's favorite look. Maybe because it means Bucky's not freaking out. Maybe because it's viscerally familiar. Maybe both, or neither.

Either way, "Oh," Steve says, softly, because - "Okay." He thinks he gets what Bucky's trying to say, anyway. He hopes so.

Even if, "If you wanted to. That would be okay. I just want you to be okay." If that means pulling himself out of Bucky's life, well. Steve won't pretend that might make things easier, in a lot of ways. Even if not all of them.

"Shut up about it, Rogers." Sounding grumpy. If he's had five conversation with the guy, and five corresponding freakouts, but he's still here, he's apparently not going anywhere, and Steve harping on it is... annoying. Somewhere between like he wants him to avoid him or wants to test his resolve or something, and neither of those things make him happy to think about.

It's annoying enough to unlock the rest of him from the huddle and collect his coffee. It's nearing cold now, but actually not terrible that way, either.

"Right," Steve says, maybe sounding a weird mix of rebuked and bemused. "Okay."

He's... giving Bucky the dignity of his choice. Right? That's what he's supposed to do. That's what he's been trying - badly - to do.

"But meditation still might not be... best for you, right now," he finally hazards, scooting back a little, but not bothering to get up back onto his own cushion. "I mean, I have no clue what's best for you right now, but it's probably something that doesn't make you react that way, huh?"

And then, "We could try... running? Maybe." That can be sort of meditative. But nothing like actually meditating. "Lark would let us into the Enclosure."

Funny, Steve doesn't really think of asking his own warden. Or Bucky's.

That's a relief. He can do this... probably... but he can't promise that it won't end up the same every other time he tries, forgetting he's on the Barge and not in the bank vault, waiting for a mission or cryo or whichever. And that sounds exhausting. Having a fucked up brain sucks.

The Enclosure gets interest, though, eyes flicking to Steve's face (not eyes, but maybe his cheekbone) before going unfocused again. "Dogma showed me. There's a really amazing obstacle course in there. Could go running, too." Yes, he's aware it changes depending on what you ask of it. But that obstacle course was a thing of beauty. So much fun.

That interest definitely makes Steve's smile light up. "Yeah? I haven't seen it." But if Bucky wants to do it? Count Steve in.

Plus, he... has pretty much zero place for his energy to go. He doesn't go to the gym much, and since he has to be let into the Enclosure, he doesn't ask much. Not for his own sake. An obstacle course sounds, well, amazing.

"Let's try that tomorrow. Instead of this," he decides, since Bucky mostly still seems on board with Steve suggesting things in ways that make them sound slightly more like orders. Even if he's still not sure he should be ordering Bucky around, this does seem to be one he'd want to follow.

"The platforms move. And there's water in the bottom that smells like the ocean." Hey, got a little tone there. He really is into that obstacle course. Like Steve, he has a lot of energy to work out, and a lot of time to fill, and sheer physical exertion for something that actually challenges him is great. "I will ask Dogma if we can use it."

There's a hesitation, then he adds, slightly less firmly, "And if Lark won't let us in. Taura might. She let us in the first time." She's supposed to do things like that for him. Right? That's what people keep telling him. (He has not yet asked her about better socks, like Double Trouble suggested.)

Hey, tone is good. Tone is great. "Sure," Steve says, unable to keep from sounding pleased. He... doesn't think Dogma dislikes him. Sometimes it's hard to keep track, but the guy should be okay with Bucky using it, if he's the one that showed him.

"Taura probably would," he agrees. She'd been his temp, and while the month had passed without much fanfare, it at least hadn't gone badly. And, "She's treating you okay?" Steve doesn't really expect a negative answer, but it seems worth it to ask. You know. Like they're holding a real conversation, maybe.

He shrugs, has more cold coffee. "Acted as non-threatening as possible. Got mad about cryo." She smothered it, didn't say anything about it, but he still saw it. "Asked if I wanted the Admiral to not use that name. Talked about things to do, some." Which is to say, she's treating him fine, for the handful of days it's been.

He frankly doesn't know what good treatment from a warden is even supposed to look like. It sure doesn't look like what a handler would do, so far.

Steve does know, and at least that sounds like what's going on here. He does know that Taura, at least, knows what it's like to be somebody else's property. That she knows what it's like to have your choices taken away.

"What'd you say about the name?" he asks, softly.

He doesn't make a face, because he is too well-trained to do that, but the urge is there. "There's nothing else to use that won't make everyone angry." He would so much rather freak out once a month than explain over and over to everyone who demanded why he was being referred to as "the Asset". Look, Steve, he has an actual preference that he's actually doing something about, bigger than "don't eat orange jello".

Steve tilts his head a little, considering that answer.

He... might be missing the point when he ends up saying, "And you care about making everyone angry? I mean, they can go suck it. It's up to you."

Shaking his head just a little, looking into his cold coffee, he says, "Have to explain. Over and over. To angry people. Even you." Especially you, Steve. If Steve had heard the Admiral say "the Asset" over the network, he'd have seen red, and the Asset knows it.

One shoulder hitches, the flesh one. "One freakout a month instead of one every time someone got upset about it. Easy math." Taura had said he shouldn't have to manage everyone's reactions, which is an interesting way to put it, given he's been managing reactions from handlers and techs for forever. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't, but the thought of having to do it for everyone on the goddamn Barge sounds so exhausting.

Edited (I hate leaving off negatives, ugh) 2020-09-16 17:48 (UTC)

He's not wrong there. If course Steve would've been mad - but at the Admiral. Not at Bucky. Or whatever he wants to be called.

Because, "Easy for them. For us. Not for you." Steve glances away, eyes focusing on a blank part of the sleek metal wall for a moment. "I could try harder. If you really want to stick with Asset." He knows they've been over it, but, "If you just let me call you Bucky because it seems... easier than telling me not to, then that's dumb. I - I'm your best friend. Or, at least, you're mine. I can be uncomfortable for the sake of your comfort. And I wouldn't be mad at you."

Just because you're not mad at him doesn't mean he can't still pick up on the anger and be nervous or upset about it, Steve. He's a very observant murder machine, and you're an open book anyway.

There's a twitch, a flinch, at that goddamn name. He actually, physically bites his tongue for a second on the automatic "don't call me that", because... because. It isn't right for Steve to call him the Asset, either. (And now his tongue hurts. Appropriate, really, since that name always means pain, doesn't it?)

But the compromise name. That one was okay. That didn't make him think of punishment and fear. "Buck," he blurts after a tense pause. "Use that. That's. That's safer."

Steve tends to use Buck and Bucky so interchangeably that the truth is, he hadn't realized -

"Oh," he says, eyes swinging back to Bucky, looking a little unsure, maybe, but, "I mean. Yeah. Sure. If - that's safer."

He's not sure whether safer is good enough, admittedly, but he tries to listen to the request, and not the reasoning. And there was a clear request, there. "Okay. Sorry. Buck."

He can certainly do that, even if it feels like a kindness, and exception, and he worries that it's one his best friend shouldn't have to make.

His lips twitch up sardonically, and he adds, "I still say screw everybody else, but - it's up to you. Clearly my methods aren't always the best. But if you wanted, I could keep an eye on the pairings for you. Tell you when you've got one. Then you wouldn't have to read it at all."

"I read everything. Or listen to it," he says, making himself calm down again. It was a brief panic, but it was still a panic. But Steve is going to do it. He made a request (gave an order, practically) and it's being respected. It's almost always respected with Steve. And, frankly, with everyone else, the few times he's actually done it. It's so fucking weird.

"A lot of it is really boring," he allows, heart rate finally getting back to baseline. "But it's intel. Don't know if I can just skip the Admiral's notices." A thoughtful pause. "I can try."

Steve's lips do tick up at that; "It is intel," he agrees, even if he's largely the opposite - he doesn't check the network very frequently at all. He'd argue he's just old school, but that's maybe not the end of it.

"I mean, if you can't skip them, then don't. Some people'd probably even say it's good for you to do things that make you uncomfortable, but." It's his turn to shrug one shoulder. Steve isn't one of those people. Not when it comes to Bucky. "But if you want to try not reading them, I'll keep an eye out for you. Just in case you need to know."

Frankly, Steve had stopped paying attention, with a permanent warden, but that had changed once Bucky came on board. Now he definitely wants to know who Bucky gets paired with, because there are some people... he might have issues with.

He finally reaches over, pulls his own quickly cooling coffee between them. "If you want more," he offers.

He nods. He'll think about it, and see what happens when it gets towards the end of the month. For now, he hesitates, then holds his mug out. Sure, hit him with some coffee that might actually be hot, this time.

"How long did it take," he asks as the coffee pours. "To have one warden that didn't change."

The Last Voyages: IC Inbox

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