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]

"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.

[punched_hitler]

Steve was about to protest - okay, yeah, he'd like more, but the man didn't have to go to any trouble - when Sam whispered in his ear, sending both a little thrill up his spine and the hint of a blush across the bridge of his nose. "Thanks," he told the man, a bit distracted as Sam stood up; he did as he was told, though, grabbing the tray for Bucky with a grateful smile for Sam. "Thanks. Let's go?"

He was pretty sure he knew the way to the cell, though Sam could correct him if he took a wrong turn. Fortunately, Steve had a good memory and an eye for visual layouts, including building plans, and they were soon approaching the observation room that would lead to Bucky's cell.

[make_it_hurt]

Bucky was sprawled across the bed, the book open awkwardly in his hand. He had showered, his hair curling at the ends and clinging to his face - he had long since given up pushing it back, it was intent on sticking to his face. He was in the same clothes as before, but they were wrinkled in a way that suggested they had been washed and dried in some haphazard way, namely Bucky had washed them as best he could in the tiny sink and spread them out to dry.

"See, told you he was okay."

[punched_hitler]

Steve did visibly relax when he saw that Bucky was okay - and sprawled in a way that was definitely Bucky. "Yeah," he breathed, looking relieved, as he moved to get the door open - but stayed in the doorway. If Sam had given Bucky a book, clearly they had talked and no one had died. That was a good sign; still, he didn't want to startle Bucky. "Hey, Buck. We've got some dinner if you're interested."

[make_it_hurt]

Bucky looked up. "Dinner? Definitely." He sat up and tossed the book aside - Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. "What'd you bring me, it smells good." He saw Sam's face peeking from around the corner and if he didn't look excited to see Sam, he at least didn't glare. Sam lifted his hand to wave at Bucky.

Bucky didn't stand, not sure if Sam would see that as a threat. They had talked, with the mirror up, and then Sam had slid the book under his door. Instead, Bucky looked to Steve, at the tray in his hand.

[Winter Soldier incoming as soon as Bucky sees the glass of milk in 3.... 2.....]

[punched_hitler]

Steve had read that one - it was one of the things on his list of "things other people tell me I need to do." He grinned a little, looking even more relaxed when Bucky looked interested in dinner. "Steak - you're getting the real five-star treatment, Sergeant," he said, stepping into the room so Bucky could get a better look - and a better whiff - of dinner. "And trust me, it's good.


[Ahahaha welp XD]

[make_it_hurt]

Sam stepped in as well, but as soon as Bucky caught sight of the glass of milk ("want a drink?") Bucky stopped dead. Something was unfurling, in that same place as the cold, roiling anger from before. A man - his handler, his master - giving him a mission: Kill Steve Rogers.

The Soldier stared up at Steve for a moment then said, voice mimicking Bucky's perfectly, "Sounds great. You staying?" He straightened then stood, Bucky's easy, loose movements fitting perfectly on him.

[punched_hitler]

Steve's mouth opened - he was about to ask what was wrong when Bucky stopped dead, but he seemed to almost restart a second later. His voice sounded the same, he moved the same, and so Steve figured he must have just been startled (maybe by Sam, and he didn't expect them to be best friends, so that was understandable, wasn't it?). "Yeah, sure. I can stay. I've got nowhere else to be," he said with an easy smile, coming further into the room. "And I promise I won't steal your potatoes."

[make_it_hurt]

The Soldier smiled Bucky's smile. He was wearing a mask, another man's expression and voice, and Rogers wasn't able to tell the difference between the mask and reality. So much for best friends. So much for sorry.

He sat back on the bed, watching Sam closely.

"Here, Steve." Sam passed the glass off to Steve then made a hand gesture- something like I'm going to watch. Be careful.

Sam stepped out of the room and pulled the door shut. He wasn't about to risk letting the Soldier out, even with that collar. Because that little jolt that Steve had passed off, Sam recognized for something going wrong. He had watched back the tape of the Soldier using Bucky's voice, but that was more word choice and accent than anything. The man on the bed not only sounded like Bucky, but had Bucky's loose, easy movements and broad smile.

Sam had learned to trust his instincts and his instincts were screaming that something was wrong. If that hadn't been Bucky in there, Steve would realize that too - that their prisoner wasn't who he had been just a moment ago.

[punched_hitler]

The real problem was, Steve saw what he wanted to see. He heard what he wanted to hear. And right now, he wanted - needed - Bucky to be Bucky. He was having a hard time truly equating Bucky's face with any other personality, even though he knew better, and it was harder still when Bucky looked so much better - clean and healthy, and smiling at him.

It was stupid. But Steve was pretty damn stubborn. Even when it really, really wasn't good for him.

He glanced at Sam, who looked uneasy - but again, that was understandable. He nodded, stepping over to Bucky, holding the tray and the glass of milk now, smiling his most genuine, relieved smile. "Where do you want to eat?" There wasn't really a table, so it would be the floor or the bed.

[make_it_hurt]

The Soldier smiled, "The bed's fine." He scooted back and crossed his legs in front of him, hand resting in his lap. He was, admittedly, hungry, and would only be too happy to eat before killing Rogers. They would no doubt put him down after that, so there was no real reason to die on an empty stomach. He took the tray and the plastic fork and knife and set to work devouring the food. He watched Rogers closely, waiting for the man to sit down.

Toss the tray, legs around Rogers's chest and arms, hand on his jaw, neck snapped, it could happen in an instant. Wilson would be powerless to stop it, even if he had the ability to shock the Soldier with the collar.

Sam stood with his hand on the door, ready to shove it open. He had the trigger mechanism for the collar in his hand, just waiting for the Soldier to make a move. But instead he started to eat, devouring the meat and potatoes much how Steve had, his head bowed over the tray, scooping potatoes into his mouth eagerly.

[punched_hitler]

"Did you eat like that in front of your dates?" Steve laughed - he knew Bucky hadn't, because he'd gone out on enough double dates (that had ended as no date for him and two for Bucky) to know that at least the jerk had better manners in front of the ladies. He couldn't blame Bucky for eating the way he was - hell, Steve had been doing the same, himself - and he moved to sit down on the bed, still gingerly because of his side, and watched his best friend go to work on that meal. "There's more where that came from, if you need it," he said, settling back a little, leaning against the wall. "This isn't the war. You're not on rations. But you will choke if you don't slow down, buddy."