worthallthis | The Last Voyages: IC Inbox

"Yeah," Steve confirms - most things he can think of were a long time ago, now.

"Mostly pretty unpleasant ports. There were some caves... an awful circus. One where some kind of something was trying to take over that world." He shrugs. "And there was the times we ran into the Mirror Barge. Although that seemed more designed to split us up, I guess," he admits. Those that had been left behind, though, had tried to band together.

"Although there was one Christmas the Admiral just locked us all in the dining hall and wouldn't let anyone leave 'till they'd danced with everyone on the dance cards he gave us." He offers B a rueful smile. "I kinda keep wondering when he's going to remember that and think it's a good idea again."

"The last cave and circus weren't too bad. Must've been something really terrible," B muses. "I think you've mentioned the party before. What was so bad about dancing?" He pauses, then asks, a little more grimly, "Wasn't making you dance with that Clark asshole or something, was it?"

"The circus was... " Steve trails off. It was awful, but maybe he'd brought some of it on himself. Which just makes what Lark did for him even worse, quite honestly, but it's easier to talk about the Christmas party, because, "No," he says, and there's this weird twitch of his mouth, almost like he wants to smile, which is dumb. "No, you could - you could just stay until the night was over if you didn't want to do the dance card thing. So that's what I did."

He'd danced with other people so they could leave, if he was on their cards. But he hadn't been in a place to be willing to ask someone else to help him with his. He shrugs one shoulder. "It wasn't bad, it was - just a party, I guess."

But he's still not great at parties, and he'd been much, much worse at them before. "It was more just that the whole Barge was in the same place at the same time, all in fancy clothes. Some tempers were high. Yara didn't do well with it."

B nods, and doesn't pursue the circus if Steve doesn't want to talk about it. "Well, it'd be better this time if he did remember and decide to do it again." He leans over again, against Steve's side more firmly. "Cuz you'd have me and Sameen and Laura to actually dance with you. And I could oogle you in your fancy clothes."

"It didn't quite work that way," Steve points out with a dumb little half-smile tugging at one corner of his lips. "I mean, we didn't get to choose who to dance with to get out of there. But maybe I'd give you a dance, anyway."

(They both know he absolutely would.)

"That suit was clearly just a gift for yourself," he muses, though for all his teasing here, too, "It was a really, really nice gift. You always get me really nice things." And maybe he ought to say so more; there's nothing like being on the Barge for realizing you shouldn't leave things unsaid.

Edited (whoops got my threads mixed up a little XD) 2023-11-06 04:16 (UTC)

"Well, I mean. I don't think that dumb musical was a great gift," B counters, but lightly. "But the suit is nice, and I sure don't mind looking at you wearing it. Sometimes I wonder if that's why you always wear such tight shirts," he adds, musing. "So I'll look at you more."

He knows that's not it, considering Steve wore tight shirts even when he wasn't around B-- or any Bucky at all-- but he's teasing now. It's time for teasing, to lighten up this whole conversation again.

"It was great," Steve counters, because okay, it had been dumb and embarrassing, but Steve gets B things like plates with dumb food puns or paintings of cakes, so it fits right in, really. Besides, there's the origami dog and the song and the jacket and that first kiss, so B is definitely miles - light-years - ahead in the gifts department.

Except, "I - uh. No, I - wait, does it work?"

The shirts, he means.

The plates are his favorite things, Steve, c'mon. Dumb food puns are the best. (And he will never, ever understand why origami makes people melt, but he's glad it does.)

He laughs at Steve's expression, though. "I mean, I'd look at you anyway, but you sure do show off some real estate in those things."

"Yeah, I guess I do," he admits, not quite flushing (but only barely). It's not really something he ever meant to do, exactly. It's just the type of shirts they'd first given him in the future, and he'd assumed that's how things were supposed to fit.

Eventually, after a couple of years on the Barge, he'd ended up defaulting to too-big hoodies, several of which he still has. But the shirts that go underneath them, or the ones he wears to run or climb or sleep in, are still on the smaller side.

"Not that I don't like you looking," he adds. He doesn't mind if it B looks. It's sort of along the same lines as feeling like he needs to show off, sometimes. He wants B to like what he's got.

He doesn't want everyone else to stare, but B is okay.

Edited 2023-11-13 03:36 (UTC)

B basically lives in oversized hoodies with various other shirts underneath, he'd understand. He might have even stolen one or two of Steve's without really realizing it.

"I hope not. I mean, I'd stop if you asked," B adds. "Or at least be more subtle about it." He's not exactly blatant about it, as it is, though. That's half habit and half deference to Steve's clear discomfort with being oogled.

Steve huffs a little; he's still embarrassed, but it's hard to be too embarrassed when clearly he also wants to be something B looks at. Even if it's not like he earned it, and he's still at least partly never sure what to do with it.

"No, you can keep looking," he admits. B isn't blatant, which helps. But Steve's also going to keep being that guy who needs to at least be in a shirt and shorts to sleep, or once it's been long enough after sex. B likes wearing socks; Steve likes wearing a shirt. Even when, apparently, they don't leave much to the imagination. "Honestly, half the time all my clothes still look like they're the wrong size, in my head."

B gets it. Being covered up is better, most of the time. Hence, after all, the multiple layers of shirts and socks. His expression goes a little softer at the admission, though, and he nods a little. "Even after all this time, huh?"

And Steve's expression just goes a little more embarrassed. "Yeah, it's - "

Well. It's a lot of things. Weird, dumb, silly.

"Worst right after I dream like I'm still small, maybe," he finally decides to actually say, which similarly feels like admitting something that doesn't need admitting, but is probably better than saying something bad about himself and making B make the faces he makes at that kind of thing. It's true, at least.

That's not something bad about yourself. It's the truth of your feelings, buddy. B can guess, though, either way. Whenever Steve hesitates like that, it's for some reason like that.

He regards him thoughtfully for a moment, then asks, "If you could give it up. Would you? I mean, would you be happier being small again?"

That gets a long, uncomfortable pause, at the end of which, all he can really say is, "I don't... know?"

It's complicated. Made even more so by the fact that he isn't sure about the answer. He's been maybe a little less itchy to tear things up, sure, but even so, "I'm not exactly doing much with it." At the moment, anymore, take your pick.

He does clearly feel guilty about that, if nothing else.

"You've done plenty with it," B comments. "I think if there was supposed to be a price on your strength, you've paid for it a few times over by now. Just because you don't need it to punch things here, don't mean it's gotta be taken away."

He shifts to wrap his arm through Steve's, curling through the crook of his elbow. "Though for the record, I figure if you don't want to keep it, you shouldn't have to, either. I want you to be happy, Steve."

"I don't - "

Well, there are a couple of ways that sentence could go, from I don't know if I get to be happy long-term to I don't know what will make me happy. He isn't sure he wants to admit either out loud, any more than he's really convinced that he's paid what he owes for this body.

But all the same, after a minute, he admits, "It's not that I don't want to keep it." Because that's also true, he thinks. This is better than being sick all the time. This is better than not being able to do anything if people need help. He can't deny that much is true.

Besides, if he's got even a chance at happiness... he doesn't want it to end because he catches the space flu and dies the second they leave the Barge. Because that would just figure, wouldn't it.

"No, it's - I should keep it," he decides, quietly. He can just feel guilty over it, after all.

Well, that would be a bit of a worry. But B would probably be able to handle it in this fancy future society. It's not really worth arguing about, though. He just tilts his head a little to bonk gently against Steve's, still arm in arm. "So long as it's what you want. I'm not gonna complain either way."

That little head bonk makes his lips twitch, like his face wants to smile despite itself. "I know," he says, and it's quiet, but fond. He has managed to absorb the fact that B, for whatever reason, really wouldn't mind. It still doesn't mean he doesn't want to give B the better version of himself, if he can. He doesn't want to be the guy who gets sick all the time. Who can't help out. He hated that. He'd rather feel guilty and undeserving for a body that can at least pull its own weight.

And he does like being big and strong and healthy. It's selfish, but he does. Of course he does.

"But this way I can keep up with you." At least half a dumb joke, but a little bit the truth, too.

"As if I'm not the one who was always chasing after you, when you were little," B says fondly, himself. But he lets it be, now. He's said his piece, made Steve think about it a little, and gotten his answer. "You feeling a little better now?" he asks, meaning the whole wardens situation.

"You had the stamina for it," Steve says, tone nonchalant but the truth is, he feels anything but.

His mouth twitches into something like a smile at the question; it's not entirely convincing, but it's trying, and when he admits, "A little," it's the truth.

"Thanks," he adds, because if B weren't here, he'd still be wallowing. And there would possibly be several more loaves of bread. As it is, "I think the bread's cool enough to eat. If you still want some."

"If I ever don't want something you baked, either I've just had too much already, or there's something wrong with me," B assures him. "Let's have some of that bread."

That gets a soft huff of a laugh, but Steve nods, then steps away to go cut up some of that bread and pull out the butter to go with it.

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fade this one out?

sounds perfect!