forum Marvel AU OxO?

Started November 29, 2019 by @ElderGod-Icefire

tune

"You'd rather be called an assassin, rather than cute?" Steve raised an eyebrow, smiling, "Plus– everyone else thinks it was cute, and they're gonna think this photo's cute too. You're outnumbered." I love democracy.

"Wait, you're going to show them?" Bucky asked, sitting up straight and looking at Steve. "Besides, I'm over six feet tall. I can't be cute. Cute things are…tiny." he held up his hands and squished them together to demonstrate.

"I mean…I don't have to if you don't want me to." He explained, smiling at Bucky's description of cute things,
"I don't know where you heard that from, but it's not always true, so…" Steve shrugged, looking at the ground and trying not to blush. "You're cute," He smiled softly, "End of story."

Bucky wrinkled his nose a little bit, looking at Steve for a long moment. He shrugged slightly. "I'm not cute." he insisted again, shaking his head at Steve.

"What'll it take to convince you?" Steve said, his tone more teasing than he meant it to be, "You can't see yourself smile, or laugh, or sleep– how can you disagree with what you can't perceive?" He smiled, remembering the way he grinned before the war, and how it was almost the same now.

Bucky rolled his eyes slightly. "I don't know." he replied with another shrug. He ran a hand through his hair, looking at Steve.

Steve sighed, anyways, "So, what happened in here?" He gestured to the room, at the covers strewn about, and his little 'nest.'

"I…couldn't sleep on the bed." Bucky replied, eyes flickering to the mattress, then to his pile of blankets and pillows. He hadn't been able to stomach the idea, since he hadn't slept in a mattress in HYDRA. Not unless…he pushed that fragment of memory away.

"Was it not comfortable? Or…?" Steve prompted, remembering his own discomfort after he was off the ice; Sam had felt the same way, 'Too soft, like sleeping on a cloud.' It had taken some getting used to, but nothing a little melatonin couldn't fix.

Bucky shrugged a little bit. "Brought back the wrong…memories." he replied slowly, shaking his head. His blue eyes were distant, cold, not wanting to talk about what exactly he had remembered.

"Hmm." Steve simply said, looking at his hands, "But you remember you can tell me those memories, right?" He said slowly, "You don't have to, but– you already know that I can handle it."

Bucky shrugged again. "I know." he replied simply. But he didn't think he could. Not right now. Talking about it…would make it too firm and solid in his mind. And he didn't want that right now.

Steve sighed, relieved that Bucky knew that he was there for him. "Okay," He said quietly, looking at him before slowly rising up, "I'm going to make some pancakes downstairs. Come down when you're ready?" Steve smiled, his hand on the door as he surveyed the state of the bedroom one last time.

Bucky nodded. "Alright." Once Steve had left the room, he got up, putting the blankets and pillows on the bed in a messy pile. He got dressed, then used the bathroom. He found a razor, too, and shaved off the stubble that had started to grow on his chin.

Steve made his way to the kitchen, smiling at the morning sun glowing through the tall windows. He put on some old music as he prepared all the ingredients, checking with JARVIS to see if he'd missed anything. Soon enough they were done, sitting in neat stacks with chopped fruit on the side, waiting for a waterfall of maple syrup.

Bucky sighed softly, and came up to the kitchen. He stretched, sitting down at the breakfast bar. "Hi." He greeted, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Morning," Steve smiled, setting two glasses of orange juice on the counter. "God, I'm starving." He breathed, sitting down on the stool next to Bucky.

Bucky let out a soft chuckle at that, and took a sip of the orange juice. His face looked better without the ragged stubble that had developed, cleanshaven again like the Bucky he had been before and during the war. Though he had never had hair quite so long, back then.

Steve smiled at the sound of Bucky's gentle laugh, a rare sound he'd missed dearly. "Sleep okay?" He asked, drenching his pancakes in syrup.

Bucky shrugged. "I guess so." he replied, and grabbed a plate of pancakes. He took the syrup when Steve was done, pouring some on.

"They've got this stuff, it helps with going to sleep," Steve said, taking a bite of pancake and almost melting into the seat, "In the beginning, I couldn't sleep at all." He sighed, remembering going through the day, barely remembering what was happening and collapsing like a narcoleptic, "After a week, I was sleepin' through the night. It's over-the-counter, too."

Bucky shrugged a little bit. "I'm surprised it worked on you. Being a supersoldier and all." He replied, taking a bite of the pancakes and looking at Steve for a moment, then away again.

“Huh.” Steve said, swallowing and looking to the side in thought, “It didn’t cross my mind. I had to take like five or six at the start, which isn’t the recommended dose. I just thought I had a higher tolerance for the stuff.”

Bucky shrugged again. "Ah." he replied after a moment. He ate a little bit more food, sighing softly. He looked over at Steve, studying his friend.

Steve returned his little glance, looking at him and smiling, "What?" He didn't want to admit it, but Bucky looked so beautiful where he sat; tired eyes and relaxed shoulders– so serene in their little 'apartment' with soft jazz playing in the background. He could definitely get used to this.

Bucky blinked. "Oh. Nothing." he replied, shaking his head and taking another bite of food. He ran a hand through his hair tiredly. "What are we doing today?"

"Not sure yet," Steve shrugged, planning the pattern of cuts in his pancakes, watching as syrup sponged out, "What do you feel like doing?"

Bucky nodded. "Okay. I don't know." he replied, looking over at Steve again, then eating some more of his pancakes.

"Maybe we could ask Tony later, he'll know what to do." Steve suggested, silently hoping that they would end up going someplace that would make Bucky smile.

Bucky shrugged a little bit. "Maybe." Or he'd pull some sort of practical joke. He ran his hands through his hair.