For all of us who've seen the light

[punched_hitler]

Meme Thread Continuation
From: Here




"Seriously," Steve said quietly, trying to smile nonchalantly, even if he still felt a little on-edge. He took a breath, held, it, then let it out at the question.

"That's the long story part. The short answer is, we've both been on ice. In my case, it was unintentional. In yours - not so much." There. That was the simplest explanation, wasn't it? It was the truth, too, if not all of it. "Honestly, you weren't gone more than a couple of weeks before I... ended up taking a very long nap. I woke up a couple of years ago when SHIELD - that's what the SSR turned into - found me. By accident, it turns out."

He watched Bucky as he spoke, looking for signs that he should stop, that it was too much - or that he could keep going.

Comments

[make_it_hurt]

Sam smiled and watched Steve clamber into the shower. "I'll see if there's a doctor around here that can take a look at your ribs for you. All your other bruises are almost healed but that one's still dark. Tony says there's enough hot water to last a lifetime, so you should be fine, but if you spend too long in there you're going to come out looking like a prune."

He pulled out his phone. Unsurprisingly, there was a great wifi signal down here. He didn't want to leave Steve alone in the shower just yet, concerned with Steve's injuries and also his mental state.

[I'm off to go see the new x-men movie, I'll be back in a few hours!]

[punched_hitler]

Steve hummed for a minute - he'd heard what Sam said but he was too busy enjoying the hot water to really process much of it, past Sam saying he should get checked out by a doctor and that the hot water wouldn't run out. The latter part was what he cared about most, just at the moment, finally spotting a bench and moving to sink down onto it, favoring the side with that boot-shaped bruise. It looked a little worse than he'd anticipated, but he wasn't overly concerned - just sore. He'd had plenty worse, but if Sam insisted on having someone take a look, he wouldn't argue.

"If you're just putting me to bed, you shouldn't care that I look like a prune," he teased softly, resting his elbows on his knees and his forehead on his hands for a moment. God, he just... didn't know what to do about all of this. Getting Bucky back was all he'd cared about, but it wasn't turning out to be simple - not simple because Bucky might not always be in control, and not simple because he wasn't sure he could keep Sam and Bucky from disliking each other or feeling hurt over the way Steve treated the other. Acting like nothing was wrong wasn't going to work, but apologizing didn't feel like enough. He really had no idea what to do, or how to handle it, and his first inclination was to not handle it - which clearly wasn't very healthy.

[Ooh, have fun! o/]

[make_it_hurt]

Sam watched Steve go from standing to sitting in the matter of a few moments, the water rushing down over his head. He asked, turning to he could rest his feet on the toilet seat cover, "How's Bucky doing?"

He had no true dislike for Bucky himself. That other part of him, though, it was hard to say what exactly was going on there. The Soldier was an entirely different matter. He was dangerous and Sam wasn't sure he could ever be completely subdued to leave just Bucky behind. It seemed almost like they were dealing with different people completely - or at least different personalities. The Soldier was focused on one thing only: killing Steve.

[punched_hitler]

Steve glanced up at the question, though he didn't move much other than that - it felt good just to sit underneath the hot water, and he could just see Sam around the corner as the other man perched on the counter. "He's... " How was he, really? "I'm not sure," Steve finally admitted, after a long silence. "I think - I know - he's still the same Bucky, but... he's not alone in there. And I remember how long it took me, to get used to the idea that seventy years had passed. That everybody I knew was dead and that the world was completely different. He's got this... this Soldier to deal with, on top of it."

The tone of Steve's voice sounded pretty helpless. That was how he felt. Helpless. He couldn't do anything to help Bucky, and he was a little afraid that, just at the moment, he was making things worse. But he couldn't leave it alone. He needed to find some way to help. He wasn't going to lose Bucky again. "He's my family," he said quietly. "I'd do anything for him." Just like he'd do anything for Sam, or Natasha. Maybe even Tony.

[make_it_hurt]

Sam nodded. "We've got him now, though, and he's safe here. We managed to, if not stop the Soldier, then at least contain him. And as long as Bucky's fine, then he'll be fine." He smiled. "You just can't forget about yourself. If you keep pushing yourself so hard, super soldier or not, you'll collapse. And if the Soldier takes advantage of that and hurts you, how is Bucky going to react? He already feels bad enough for the Soldier breaking your nose, imagine if the Soldier caused more damage than that."

And Steve had already pushed himself further than Sam had wanted. But if that had been Riley in there, and Sam had to choose between his best friend and his own health, it would be Riley every time. "Get clean, sleep, and get your side checked out and we'll come up with a plan."

[punched_hitler]

"As long as Bucky's fine," he said quietly, nodding a bit. That was what mattered most to him - more than his own health, honestly, and he knew Sam knew that. But he also knew he needed Same (and Bucky) to look after him when he needed to be told to sit down, shut up, and get some rest.

And right now, that's what he needs. Even if sitting there felt so good, he finally pushed himself up with a groan and found the soap, getting to work cleaning himself off. It was a little slow going, but not terribly bad; after rinsing out his hair a few times, he finally reached over to turn off the water with a sigh, leaning around the edge of the shower and spotting a towel, snagging it and getting to work with that. "Sleep... sounds awfully good," he admitted, glancing over at Sam with a sheepish smile. "Want to join me?"

Even if they just crawled onto the bed together, it would be nice to share some space. Steve had never slept as well alone as he did with someone else close by.

[make_it_hurt]

Sam grinned, "You bet." He grabbed another towel and threw it over Steve's head, rubbing his hair dry.

"You don't clean up half bad, Rogers," he said then leaned in to kiss Steve, dragging off the towel with one hand, his other going to Steve's unbruised side. Running his fingers over the soft skin there, he resisted the urge to drag the other towel off as well and instead just kept his hands where they were.

[punched_hitler]

Steve just ducked down a little, letting Sam rub his hair dry - he couldn't deny that it felt nice, just like the light touch to his side a moment later.

"Yeah? Well, I wouldn't want to reflect poorly on my country," he said, teasing jut a little, though his lips molded easily - if not tiredly - to Sam's, a moment later. He leaned closer - partly to get close, and partly because he was starting to feel like standing was a chore - and let that kiss drag on as long as he could manage, just trying to forget about everything he didn't want to deal with and focus on Sam for a minute, instead. "Thanks for putting up with me." He was pretty sure it wasn't the easiest thing to do, at the moment.

[make_it_hurt]

Sam smiled, "Let's get you to bed. If you fall asleep on me I won't be able to hold you up." He decided not to respond to the second part. If he thought Steve was a chore, they wouldn't be dating.

He took Steve's hand then led him back to the bedroom and stated pulling out clothing. Well, boxers and a pair of sweatpants. "Here." There would be nothing sexual going on, Steve needed the rest more than anything.

[punched_hitler]

'Which wouldn't be very polite," Steve agreed tiredly, though he noticed that Sam didn't even make a joke about putting up with him. He sort of got the message that implied... and he appreciated it.

He accepted the clothing handed to him with a soft murmur of thanks, pulling off the wet towel and draping it over a nearby chair so it could dry out. He pulled on the boxers and sweatpants stiffly, even if clean, soft clothing felt so good, and moved to sit heavily on the bed. "I feel like I could sleep for a week," he said tiredly, "but you'd better not let me." Even if he needed it... he needed to be here for Bucky more. He was pretty sure Sam would understand that.

[make_it_hurt]

Sam smiled. "Four hours, how about?" He sat down next to Steve, rubbing his back. He really wanted Steve to lay down and rest. If Steve didn't wake up in four hours, Sam was planning on letting him sleep. He was more worried about Steve sleeping than anything, but would probably go down and check on Bucky in the mean time, make sure he was still doing alright.

[punched_hitler]

"Four hours... yeah." Steve wanted to sleep so much longer than four hours, but it sounded like a reasonable compromise. (In truth, he'd probably sleep for at least eight, if Sam didn't wake him up.) The hand on his back felt soothing, calming, and it was getting hard to keep his eyes open, which was probably the point. He reached over, giving Sam's knee a gentle squeeze, before he started to move, trying to lie down on his good side, so that his bad side wouldn't take any of his weight. He let out a breath - and he didn't so much fall asleep as pass out, within the span of a few seconds.

[make_it_hurt]

Sam watched Steve go from awake to unconscious in only a few seconds but laid down next to him anyways, stroking his fingers through Steve's still-damp hair. It was getting long, hadn't been trimmed in a long time. He tugged the blanket up to Steve's shoulders and settled in next to him.

-

He woke Steve up 9 hours later, almost in time for dinner. "Steve. Get up."

[punched_hitler]

Steve slept hard - his body needed it, because if he wasn't going to give it the food it needed, then it was at least going to take the sleep it required to start repairing some of the damage that had been done. He didn't even dream; honestly, it felt like he'd just closed his eyes when he heard Sam's voice and felt him shaking his shoulder. He came awake all at once, despite the fact that he still felt groggy, blinking as he sat up, looking around. "What?" He took a breath - his side still hurt, but it felt a little better, he thought. His body felt a little better overall, really, even if his mind was still slow to catch up. "What time is it?"

[make_it_hurt]

"Time for dinner. I let you sleep, you needed it. You can grouch at me later." If Sam didn't know Steve's metabolism he would have let Steve sleep even longer, but he needed calories, and a lot of them. "Let's get some food." He had put on shoes during the day, but only flip-flops. "Bucky's still himself, I brought him a book to keep him from stewing in his own thoughts."

[punched_hitler]

"Right," Steve said slowly - processing dinner first, then realizing that it must have been far longer than four hours, smiling dryly up at Sam. He shouldn't have been surprised, really - Sam knew him pretty well, by now, and he also knew when Steve didn't know best. Even if Steve had a hard time admitting that, sometimes. (But only when it came to taking care of himself.)

"Dinner... sounds pretty good," he said, pushing himself off the bed and looking relieved at the mention of Bucky. "Thank you for that - for checking on him," he said softly. "I appreciate that." And he was also glad to hear that he seemed to be himself.

[make_it_hurt]

"Tony's still got Bucky's arm downstairs. I tried to talk to him but ended up talking to JARVIS more." Sam straightened, "There's steak and mashed potatoes out there. as much as you can eat, really."

[punched_hitler]

Steve snorted quietly, stretching carefully. "That's how talking to Stark is. I think he likes it that way, but..." He couldn't help but smile. "He's still a good man." Even if he could be an aggravating one, on top of it.

At the mention of steak and potatoes though, Steve's stomach answered for him - it growled, loudly. "Okay... I'd better follow you, then. God, steak is so much better in this century," he teased, before glancing around. "I'd better put on a shirt." And shoes.

[make_it_hurt]

Sam laughed, "Probably. I would rather you go without, but I think it might distract the chef." He leaned forward and touched Steve's side, "Looks like you're finally starting to heal." The bruise had faded to an ugly green, while Steve's raccoon eyes were mostly gone. He kissed Steve on the cheek then stepped back to let him up.

[punched_hitler]

"Well, I'm not looking to distract the chef. I like my meat a little less well done than charred," he said, although he might have been blushing, just faintly. Steve might never, ever get used to the idea of distracting anyone.

He glanced down at the touch, nodding a little. "I guess so. I'm not complaining. Beats being bedridden for a week or few," he said, like he knew what that felt like - because he did. He managed to find a shirt that fit, pulling it over his head carefully. Next were some shoes, and then he was ready to go. "We should bring something for Bucky - later," he said, carefully. He knew if he brought something to Bucky, he'd want to talk to his friend instead of eat. And he was starving. But after he'd eaten... he wanted to make sure Bucky got what he needed, too. "I still hate thinking of him as a prisoner."

[make_it_hurt]

Sam nodded. "Yeah, we'll take him some down later." He led the way out into the main living space - there was a huge tray of potatoes and two steaks already sizzling away on the griddle. "Hey man." he lifted his hand to the chef then settled down on one of the stools, pushing a plate over towards Steve. "Get this man a steak."

[punched_hitler]

Steve greeted the chef politely - after all, you should never be rude to the man who made your food - and sat down, piling some of those potatoes onto the plate. "Take your time," he said, digging into the potatoes - which tasted perfect. "I'll just get started here."

And get started he did - he'd probably made it through two helpings of potatoes before his steak was done, but by then he was ready for the meat. He wasn't sure he'd ever tasted anything so good in his life, both trying to savor every bite and eat it as fast as possible because he was so hungry. He didn't talk much, but that was mainly because he was too busy enjoying the food he was shoveling into his mouth as fast as humanly possible while still attempting to be polite.

[make_it_hurt]

Sam chatted up the chef - who was prepping another steak and helping of potatoes on a tray for Bucky and placing it under a heat lamp before starting to clean up - while eating his own steak, not eating at quite a breakneck pace as Steve. He lacked both the metabolism and the sheer capacity for that much food. Sam said, grinning, "Don't eat too fast, man."

[punched_hitler]

"Hmph?" Steve asked - then swallowed. "Sorry - sorry." He slowed down to a less-than-breakneck pace, taking careful, slow bites. "Sorry," he added again, then laughed. "I'm starving."

But of course, that made him think that Bucky might be, too - which made him want to finish all the sooner. Finally, despite the fact that he could still do with another helping or two, he pushes the plate away, figuring he'll at least digest what he's eaten before coming back for more. He leaned back in his chair, waiting for Sam to finish eating without looking too eager, because he wanted Sam to enjoy his meal as well. "At least Stark knows how to feed his guests well. Not that I guess I'd expect anything less. He's a lot more compassionate than he'll ever let on."

[make_it_hurt]

Sam smiled, "Hey, man, will you cook Steve another steak before you go? He's gonna want a midnight snack." He winked at Steve then whispered to Steve, "Especially after I'm done with you tonight." He stood and grabbed Steve's hand, tugging at his hand. "Grab that tray, I'll get Bucky something to drink." He went to the fridge and poured a big glass of milk.