worthallthis | The Last Voyages: IC Inbox

The childish response bubbles up and B bites it back. He wants Lark back. He wants this not to have happened. But that's not exactly possible. Even the Admiral can't always hang onto his people, no matter how much he wants to.

"I don't know," he says after a pause, but he stays put at least. They'll have to get up and feed some animals eventually, but right now being held is-- nice. It's a reminder that he may keep losing people, but he's still not alone. "I'm tired of losing people," he finally says, quietly. And it's probably a horrible thing to say, because Steve has lost more people than he ever has he thinks, but it's still the truth.

Steve just nods, which probably comes across more as the motion of his head against the top of B's head than something B actually sees. "Yeah," he agrees. "Yeah, me, too."

It's not horrible, because Steve isn't the only person who's lost people. So has B - so many of the people who helped him get through his time as an inmate are gone, and now Lark is among them.

"You taught me that the risk is worth it, though," he adds. Maybe it will help B to hear. Because Steve had gotten so sick of losing people that he'd stopped trying to have people, at all. He's still kind of bad at it, but B - B had made him want to at least think about a future with somebody, instead of assuming it just wasn't possible and better not even to try. Admittedly, it's part of why he's clinging to B so fiercely right now, but it doesn't mean he hasn't tried to have a little faith. Even if it feels shattered right now.

"It is worth it," B has to agree. He doesn't think he'd be able to stop reaching out even at his most hurt and grieving. The months he spent isolating himself after the other Steve left him were the worst he can remember, outside of actual torture by HYDRA. He's learned that lesson. He doesn't do well alone.

That doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt, though. He ducks his head further under Steve's chin unhappily. Maybe he's clinging, right back. "If you ever do that to me," he says, a little muffled, "I am chasing you down immediately."

The mutual clinging is actually pretty comforting, in Steve's book; if they're both desperate, at least it's somehow a reassurance that B feels the same way. (As if Steve didn't know - he did - and B's words make that very, very clear, a moment later.)

"Please do," he says, even though it sounds too much like begging. He doesn't want to go back "home" alone. That place isn't home anymore, that Bucky isn't his anymore, if he ever was. And it's - fine, it's what Steve had wanted, and he might feel sad from time to time, but he's not sorry he walked away from that place without ever planning to return.

Of course, that thought makes him laugh a little, hoarsely. "Better do it fast, because I'm gonna have to stay in hiding and pretend I'm dead, if I end up back where I came from."

But joking aside, "You, too. You know I'll come after you, too. Anywhere, until I find you."

There's a brief moment where B can't breathe, at the idea of Steve back in his universe, alone, maybe not remembering him, before he shoves his own words back into his brain. Steve graduated. Even if he disappears, the Admiral won't make that go away. He'll remember that, at least. He'll remember B, even if he doesn't necessarily remember what they have now.

He buries his face in Steve's neck. "Yes. Yes, do that, because. Because back where I come from. It's not good for me, either. I'd need you."

He doesn't know what he'd remember, either, if he disappeared. Graduating, yes. But everything after coming back? He doesn't know how that will work. But he knows Steve would fix anything. A Steve who cared. Who came back.

"I will always come for you," Steve promises, and this time, with this man - he means it. He means it with everything he is.

Even though a little, not-quite-hysterical laugh slips out, and he has to amend, "I might have shitty timing." He might be late, he means. He always feels too late. "But I'll come."

But even saying all that, meaning all that... There are memories that come rushing to the surface. Circumstances neither of them can predict. He remembers, painfully clearly, Bucky coming back and not remembering -

After a beat, he asks, slowly, carefully: "Would you, um - Would you want me to fill you in. If you forget anything." Well. That's stupidly not clear. "About us." Which may or may not be clearer.

Edited 2023-09-24 02:26 (UTC)

No, he knows exactly what he means. He'd just been thinking about it. "I don't know. Maybe yes." He gives an only slightly-strained chuckle. "Save us some time. I know I was going to tell you, after Thanos. Him. About how I felt, maybe." He can't really burrow closer, but he does twist his fingers in the back of Steve's shirt. "Then he left before I got the chance."

Not that it will matter in about a week, as B's inmate will graduate and it'll be certain that he'll remember up through that.

Steve's face - as it so often does - does something complicated to hear that. It makes him so mad, and yet so weirdly grateful, all at the same time. He hates himself for the part of him that could leave B behind. But if that guy hadn't...

Steve's arms would be empty right now. He'd be an inmate still, probably, and wishing he were dead.

"Okay," he finally says, still pressing close to B. "Okay. I'll tell you. And try not to make it too weird." A tall order, he knows, but at least knowing it's what B would want helps. He resolutely doesn't think about why he hadn't been sure he should tell Bucky. He's better, now. A little.

Of course, that warrants adding, "Me, too - I mean. I wouldn't... I would still love you. Always. I would just be dumb. About not wanting to tell you."

"Well, since you'd have to remember at least up through us saving the world together," B says, with an attempt at levity, "I'd hope so." He gives Steve's shoulders a little squeeze. "And you always make things weird. It's part of your charm."

He maybe loves Steve for that as much as for everything else. He's not perfect. He overthinks and then gets awkward and it's very sweet.

Steve makes a noise that's sort of like a huff-snort-scoff, but if B doesn't mind it when he makes things weird, then who is he to argue that he should.

Especially not when, "I know how it should work," he agrees. But it's what he leaves unsaid that worries him most: He just can't trust it. He can't trust things to go right, even if he wants them to.

But knowing that B would want him to tell him, and knowing that B knows what Steve would want... that feels better. It doesn't mean he stops pressing close or feeling desperate, but it does mean at least part of him can, if not exactly relax, then at least wind a little less tight.

"It feels better. A little. Having a plan," he finally breathes. There's maybe a little laugh under it. B's the planner. He likely knows.

"And now you know why I always have at least three for any situation," B agrees with a weak chuckle. He does have trust that the Admiral wouldn't straight-up lie to him, and nothing he might have left out seems to point in the direction of their memories being fucked over if someone was lost unintentionally.

He shifts enough that he can kiss the side of Steve's neck, just lightly. "We're okay. And. Lark's okay, back in Los Angeles. And I'm not going anywhere." He can't promise, but he can reiterate his intent, at least. Maybe it won't help Steve feel better, but maybe it will make B feel better.

"I don't know how you do it," Steve admits; okay, he does a little, he can make a plan. But it's just not second nature to him. It's not where his mind goes first (maybe because his mind tends to fixate on one thing to the exclusion of all else, good or bad, and then he just does something).

But he supposes that's not what's important, here. B does have plans, and Steve's still not always willing to trust the Admiral but he trusts in B, trusts in B's plans. And he wants to trust what B says, right now, so that's what he tries to do. He nods, and he believes in B. He believes in Lark, wherever he is. Lark will be okay. He's always okay.

"Gonna miss him," he can't help but breathe. It feels unnecessary to say, but also important to say it, too. "But I guess our first-aid kit won't," he adds, making a dumb joke because who is he if he doesn't try to at least do that.

It's paranoia, Steve. He's glad you don't have the need to make multiple plans of attack or escape or just making dinner. (Hell, it's part of why routine is so soothing here: it's something he doesn't have to plan.)

He definitely doesn't say that, though. It's not what Steve is thinking about, and it's not what he wants to think about. He sighs, instead, and give's Steve's back a little rub with the hand around his shoulders. "Maybe the first aid kit won't. But I will. He gave me so much I can't ever repay him for."

"Including full frontal nudity - well. I got that. You didn't."

Except it's said stupidly fondly, because what a way to meet a guy, right? But really, seriously, "Yeah. He was - He always listened, you know? He took things seriously when no one else would."

B snorts a little. "No, thankfully. Whenever he did the wolf change thing he always left the room. Though mostly when he did. It was when I was in some kinda state, so maybe it was less modesty and more politeness." He shuts his eyes against Steve's shoulder. "He always did get to deal with me in a state more than most people did. Except maybe you."

"Well, if he did, I know he never held it against you. He's always been kinda good at that. Seeing people at their worst, and just - dealing with it."

Lark's a problem-solver, and while sometimes those solutions can be complex and take time to come to fruition, sometimes he's just an instinctually good person to have on your side.

Well. He was. He still is, out there, Steve hopes, but not here anymore. God. It feels so empty without him, already.

"Maybe, uh. We can be like that. For somebody here. Since we know how it helps."

Because Lark sure as hell saw Steve in plenty of states, too. Just like B.

"Love to," B agrees. "Just gotta. Get enough people interested in trusting us with that sorta thing, first." B can count a handful who probably do. Sweeney, probably. Shaw, definitely. Maybe Rawne, though B isn't sure Rawne ever has states. Laura and Natasha, in Steve's case. Franky, but she's leaving. Crozier, maybe, though he's more likely to lean on his other people B thinks.

God, he needs to meet more people.

"Yeah," Steve agrees, voice quiet, thoughtful. Almost wry. "That really is the trick. Funny how that's kinda the one thing that's most likely to backfire on you when you try harder."

Because you can't make people trust you, he knows. "All you can do is try to be there, and maybe you get lucky. But even if you don't - you were still there, I guess."

"Then, of course," B continues, mostly jokingly now, even if it's slightly strained joking, "even once you've got trust, you have to have trust with somebody who is willing to be in a state every now and then. At all. Tricky, that one. You know I don't think I ever actually saw Lark unsteady more than... I think once."

"Lark's a special case," Steve puts in, wryly. "Can't measure anything by him." God, just thinking about it makes him miss Lark all over again, but that's just how it's gonna be, he knows.

"Besides, most states aren't willing, right? I think it's more luck." Catching them like that, he means. "Except for the part where I triggered most of yours, but I guess that's just my luck. And yours."

B gives Steve a little punch in the shoulder. Just a little one. "Those were good, though. Remembering shit even if it scared me." Maybe he didn't understand at the time, but being around Steve woke things up, maybe faster than if he hadn't been around him. "You aren't still beating yourself up about that, are you?"

"No," not really, "I just - I know it wasn't easy." For so many reasons: for worrying Steve wanted him to be someone else, for not knowing what might pop up any given time they talked, for the way Steve still felt like he didn't know how to get it right or help him remember without it being painful, even without it being the first few times around.

"I'm glad I was here for it," he finds himself saying, because he is. It's so, so selfish, and he probably looks torn over it, even though he doesn't sound it.

"I'm glad you were, too. Because I bet it woulda been harder without you. Don't know how that other guy did it, just getting all his ideas about our past from books and what memories hit him," B says, shaking his head a little, then setting it back down on Steve's shoulder. "It was hard, even here. But I never really wanted you to go away, even when it was bad."

"I don't know, either," Steve admits, quietly, and there's plenty of reverence, of respect, there. He wishes it hadn't been that way, but it had, and he doesn't know how Bucky did it - but he did, and that means a lot, too.

He relaxes just a little into B, even if he has to admit, "I really thought you should have. Wanted me to leave you alone." But B hadn't, and Steve hadn't been able to stay away without explicit instructions, so he guesses it worked out, if that's really how B had wanted it. "But it was nice. That you did want me around." Nice being a vast, gaping understatement. "That you gave me a chance to make up for it, even a little."

He lets out a breath, not wanting to argue about fault, because he knows they don't - and probably won't ever - see eye to eye on that. "I guess that's what we do, then. We stick around." For the people who need it.

Edited 2023-11-11 04:42 (UTC)

B doesn't want to argue about it, either, so he's just not going to bother. "Think it worked out, in the end," he says instead, giving Steve's shoulder a little pat before wrapping that arm back around him. "You an' me. Sticking around." B's pretty happy with it, even if there are still so many losses to weather. At least he doesn't have to weather them completely alone, like out in the world.

If he can help other people feel less alone, too, that's even better.

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punched_hitler - 2023-11-19 01:54 (UTC) - Expand