courtings | open post (steve rogers)

[ There's a long pause at the question, because these kinds of things throw him off, sometimes. It's not that he worries over what to say, it's more that he doesn't know what the proper thing to say is.

Steve's arm curls around his shoulders, and there's the briefest flash of confusion (shouldn't it be the other way around?) before he matches step with Steve's long paces. ]

It's a place to stay.

[ Steve's there. Steve's friends are here. He has a room, and food, which are basically his only two consistent needs. It functions well enough for what it's supposed to be. ]

[Maybe it should be the other way around, but Bucky isn't much for wrapping his arm around anyone's shoulders these days, and Steve doesn't mind picking up the slack here and there, even with these minor things.

He considers that response. It's neutral, apathetic even -- like a lot of what Bucky says, really. Steve used to struggle with it a lot, all he wants Bucky to do is express himself, but now he's come to realize that he needs to be patient. This is going to take time, and regardless of everything else, they have a lot of that.]

Yeah. Maybe not home yet, but... [Who knows? Maybe someday.

He leaves it at that, as the elevator reaches the garage level and Steve steps out. Stark's cars take up most of the space, but his bike is parked off in the corner. He heads in that direction, but glances over his shoulder as he goes.] Want a helmet?

[Steve usually doesn't wear one, not unless he's in uniform, but it seems only right to ask.]

[ Home's a weird concept, though. It isn't that he doesn't know what one is, it's just he hasn't had one for so long that the idea is abstract. He has a place to live, a place where he puts what little he owns. That's enough, he supposes.

They make it down the elevator and Steve's arm slips away at some point; Bucky notices the lack of warmth but doesn't comment on it past that. ]

I doubt I need it.

[ It goes unsaid that Bucky's pretty sure that if he can survive a fall as vicious as the one he took years ago, he's pretty sure he can survive anything that they run into while Steve's around.

He waits for Steve to hop on, and then slides on behind him, the motion practiced, easy, his hands sliding around Steve's waist to bunch in the material of his jacket. ]

[Steve also hasn't had a real home in a long time. During the war, there had been so much moving around, and a grouping of tents and cots didn't really count as home. Everything had always felt far too temporary and yet crushingly permanent during that time.

It's something he and Bucky had talked about once. How each decision made during war time could decide not only your life or death, but that of your comrades.

Maybe that's why both of them are a little more reckless than they should be. Maybe that's why they shrug their shoulders and settle down on his bike without bothering with any helmets.

They've both got some serum in them, and Steve realizes in some ways that's the worst thing. He and Bucky hadn't been particularly good at taking of themselves even beforehand. Now they've got an easy excuse for why they don't exert more caution.

Still, they can take care of each other pretty well, so Steve figures it all balances out. Now that Bucky's here with him, it's the closest he's really felt to home in a long time. Which, appropriately enough, is where they're headed now.

Steve leans back against Bucky, soaks in his warmth for a moment, and then turns his bike on. It comes to life with a sweet purr, and Steve speeds them out of the garage in no time.]

Should take about half an hour to make our way over there. Hold on tight.

[It's said mainly as a joke. Steve knows Bucky won't let go of him, not for the world.]

[ He ought to maybe insist that Steve wears a helmet before he gets his brains spilled out across the pavement, but he knows that honestly, out of the two of them, Steve has a better shot at surviving an accident anyway.

His feet shift, finding the best position, and his hands wind around his waist, holding tightly just as instructed. There's no chance in Hell he'd let go but they both know that, so he lets Steve say it and listens to the rumble of the bike under them.

Sometimes, it's a little jarring to realize how things have changed. Not just him - the world, Steve, everything. The Steve he knew back then probably would have been in his spot, holding onto Bucky on the bike, and Bucky would have made him wear at least nine layers of some kind of protection just in case.

Now, he's pressed up against broad shoulders and muscles and it's still weird, like seeing double vision sometimes, remembering the man Steve used to be and the one he is now. ]

[Steve had really only started riding a bike during the war, as it was a fast way of transport but more easily maneuverable between rough terrain when compared to a car. Bucky had rode on the back a handful of times, but more often he'd followed on foot with his rifle to keep Steve's path clear.

Now they're in an urban jungle instead, and while the world isn't perfect, there are pockets of peace where they can lick their wounds and Steve can work at putting Bucky back together.

So the ride is pleasant, at least for Steve, as they leave Manhattan over the bridge and then transition into Brooklyn. Through streets and neighborhoods that Steve still remembers, even though they've changed so much now.

Even if Bucky had those memories, he still wouldn't recognize most of this. That's why Steve aims to take him somewhere that's more preserved.]

You okay back there? [He asks it when they're stopped at a light, and even then he has to speak up to make sure that he's heard over the sound of the engine.] Any preference on where we go? [There had been a few photographs on his account, after all.]

[ They rumble to a stop in an unfamiliar stretch of New York (which isn't saying much; most of NY is unfamiliar and Bucky just sort of rolls with it. There are cars and horns all around them and it still makes him itch, just a little, to have his back exposed like this.

His feet touch the ground lightly while they wait at the stoplight, hands shifting from around his stomach to just curling around Steve's waist. ]

I'm fine. [ And if he leans in a little bit, puts his chin nearly on Steve's shoulder, well. ] First picture. Or wherever is nearest.

[Bucky presses up close against him, hugging him more than just holding on because he has to, and Steve has to smile to himself at the contact. It's a far cry from how things used to be, but that's the case for just about everything around them too, so he's come to terms with the shift in their relationship, even if they're still feeling it out.

They haven't even given it a name yet, but whatever it is, it's nice.]

Got it. [The light changes and then Steve speeds off. Just a few more minutes pass, and they approach a park, a splash of green among so much gray and brown. He finds a place to park, though it takes some work, and then carefully eases off of the bike.] Prospect Park. There's still a statue here that was around... you know, back then.

[ Physical affection doesn't come naturally to him. Bucky weighs each action out, tries to determine it through logic and knowledge of what happened in previous events. It's not a perfect means of doing things but it's good enough, it gets him by. He thinks Steve probably doesn't like it as much, honestly, because he likely wants the man who was James back and Bucky can't quite manage to wrap his head around him.

Bucky probably wouldn't have held on like this, though. Wouldn't have been interested in Steve in a way he doesn't even know how to deal with, let alone talk about.

Before he gets caught up in thoughts about that, Bucky ducks his head behind Steve's and holds onto him until they reach the park, where he swings off with only the slightest leg shakiness. ]

What did we do there?

[Steve has put some thought into what Bucky would make of all this, if he had his memories and if he was still the person he'd watched fall from that train. Given how things have developed between them now, Steve's even asked himself if maybe Bucky had felt things for him back then and just never said anything.

It seems presumptuous to assume that, though. He may know Bucky better than anyone, but he doesn't want to get too caught up in picking apart his thoughts when technically he's right here with him.

There's a disconnect, though, and one that Steve has a hard time dealing with, though he's gotten a little better at it.

He locks up the bike and then tucks his keys away.] I usually drew. You'd hang around with me, chat, or call out to any pretty girl who walked past... [Steve smiles and shakes his head.]

Come on. [He starts down a walking path that should take them through the park.]

[ It's habit, these days, to sweep the perimeter. It's wide and open and it still makes his teeth itch, grinding together just a touch before he catches himself.

There's no one out here, most likely. There's always a chance, of course, but right now, it's been months since any suspected HYDRA activity. They ought to be safe, or as safe as they can be, being who they are.

Still leaves him tense, though. Bucky adjusts the glove over his hand and glances around one final time, noting everyone around them, and the open windows on the brownstone across the street. He catches a flicker of something out of the corner of his eyes as he follows Steve, brow furrowing, tone distracted, ]

I read about that. Him chasing skirts.

[ Another pause, before he realizes it's just someone setting up an A/C, and then he catches up, matches pace with Steve. ]

[At this point Steve's gotten used to Bucky treating any place they go like it's part of a war zone, like there could be snipers watching them from the window of an apartment building.

To be fair, the paranoia isn't entirely unfounded. If Captain America and the Winter Soldier wander around a park in their hometown, that's bound to attract attention, but they've both gotten used to the stares from civilians.

It's only a problem if it gets around to those people who want them dead, but Steve's convinced that together they could handle almost anything HYDRA's remnants might throw their way.

It would be nice, to just get to relax for a little while, but that's not a luxury they can afford. So Steve doesn't begrudge Bucky any of it, simply turns back to him as he catches up.]

They put that in the history books? [He smirks warmly.] It was a lot of talk and no action. You... [Should he say "you" or "he"? Steve can never be sure.] You'd go out on dates, but it never led to much more than that.

It was an interview.

[ That's still strange to think of. He'd gone through everything he could possibly go through when it came to him, and Steve. There was a ton of material to go through, from interviews to comics to whole books dedicated to Steve with varying levels of truth when it came to Bucky.

He catches up to Steve, matching his pace again, hands jammed into his pockets so he can feel the knife he's got tucked underneath. ]

Someone we used to know, apparently. It's - I didn't expect it. To have so much.

[ He remembers enough to know that they were just kids, back then. No one would've given a shit about them had Steve not become Captain America. ]

[An interview?

Steve's seen a lot of them. He'd watched as the faces of people he remembered so distinctly aged and warped until he didn't recognize them. Sometimes it got to be too much, though, so he probably hasn't seen every scrap of footage out there about them. Especially since some of it's inaccurate, and that tends to get under his skin.

People spoke about him and Bucky like they were literary figures rather than real, breathing people. It got easy to think about it like that when someone was dead, so maybe Steve can't blame them, but it's part of the reason why he hasn't touched most of the scholarly work out there written about Captain America. That man they write about, usually it's not him.]

Yeah, it's... people got kind of obsessed.

[Steve draws a hand through his hair and lets out a sigh. He's not walking particularly fast, as he's drawn in more by the conversation than their surroundings.] Who was it, though? Who did the interview. [Someone who knew them better than most claimed to, probably.]

[ And this is the shitty part. Bucky doesn't know whether or not he ought to tell him, because he doesn't remember much of anything at all that's helpful or that's not most of the time, so he's not sure about how true this rang. ]

It was when I was looking up his information. [ A pause, and he shifts on his feet, uncertain a moment and hating it, because things used to be simpler, when he didn't have to consider this sort of thing. ] Apparently they were trying to find people who knew us. Girl named Claire. I went out with her friend, you with her.

[ He doesn't go into detail that she'd turned Steve down, because he doesn't remember it, but it was in the article. He doesn't know how he behaved back then, but he knows that right now, it makes anger fill up his chest, hot and horrible. ]

[For Bucky, the memory isn't a memory so much as a frustration, another scrap of proof that tells him that he's not that guy anymore. Steve can see it on Bucky's face (and that's enough of a relief, that he can actually pick out some expressions now), and he almost feels bad for asking.

He remembers Claire. Not in a whole lot of detail, if he's honest, because Bucky had tried to introduce so many girls to him and nothing had ever come of it. He'd barely managed to get through a conversation before they lost interest. Better fish in the sea, and all that.]

Yeah. We... weren't close or anything. I only met her once or twice, but I guess that's reason enough to interview someone. [Steve and Bucky had become like myths after their supposed deaths, so Steve can only imagine that the historians had tracked down anyone who'd even spoken to them, especially before the war, so that they could write out biographies.

He keeps walking and heads toward a small pond in the distance.] I know there's a lot to read out there. It's probably kind of overwhelming, but I can separate fact from fiction for you. You know, if you're ever curious.

Seems like they did that with everyone.

[ Which is so fucking weird. He might not remember everything but he knows enough to know that back then, neither of them would have ever considered being people worth interviewing.

Bucky follows a step behind Steve, glancing up into the trees where the light filters down onto the ground, realizing that tree'd probably been there when they were here years ago. ]

Going to teach me? [ Bucky tilts his head, flashes a smile and for a moment, he's every inch the James Barnes he used to be, amused and giving Steve shit. ] Sure, professor.

[It's true, Steve had gotten pretty accustomed to being invisible before the war. He'd come to terms with that, as he'd had enough things in his life that mattered. Particularly, one person.

He'd wanted to join the war to do his part, but there had also been the sinking knowledge that with Bucky gone, Steve wouldn't have had much left for him in Brooklyn.

When Bucky offers up that smile, Steve stops in his tracks and gives his friend a look, the one he gets whenever he feels as if he's suddenly been transported back in time. The setting around them doesn't help. His eyes crinkle at the edges and a tiny smile touches at the corner of his mouth.]

Professor seems a little extreme. But I am here as some kind of source. [He shrugs and then cuffs Bucky on the shoulder before he continues down toward the pond, where a few ducks are gliding across the water.]

Sure, Teach.

[ Bucky waves it off like it's nothing at all, and shrugs his good shoulder. This was a good idea. It feels familiar out here, feels like he's in a place he ought to be, feels like something familiar and right.

Steve at his side is even better, honestly; it makes things easier, make everything slot into place like this is where he belongs. Even the touch is familiar, and grounding. Bucky trails on after him, half tempted to suggest taking their shoes off and putting their feet in the water like they did when they were kids. ]

I don't even know where to begin. What to ask?

[Steve doesn't take his shoes off, but he does crouch down right in front of the pond to watch the ducks and the fish. He kind of wishes he'd brought some bread with him now, to feed them, but maybe that's something they can do another time.

At Bucky's question, Steve glances back over his shoulder at him. He realizes that it's overwhelming, there's a whole history, years and years spent together -- where do you even begin with something like that?]

Do you have any half-formed memories? Stuff that... you're not sure if it really happened or not? Or just something you're curious about?

[Steve shrugs and then draws his fingers through the water, watches as it ripples outward.] Otherwise, I can just start telling you whatever comes to mind.

open post (steve rogers)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

I AM ASSUMING THINGS HERE lmk if not okay

always ok

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

i'm so lazy with my icons sigh. NOT A BUCKY ICON BUT W/E

no subject