dysmorphics | open post

Bucky spotted a direction that it seemed like most other people were heading in and started that way as well before doing a small U-turn. Determined not to put her down, he bent at the knees and hooked a metal finger through an eyehole in her mask, then stood back upright and began walking in that direction again.

Steph's comments made him scoff, though. "Don't be stupid," he said with an eyeroll, keeping her tucked snuggly against him. "If you ever said the word I woulda married you at any point. You've always been everything, Steph. Yeah, you got sick a lot, but you were too stubborn to die, even back then. And I've always thought you were gorgeous, now and then. Besides, I'm a furnace. Except the arm."

But then a couple of her words made his steps stumble slightly, only for a moment, before he was able to right himself and continue walking, his brow scrunched and his eyes turning down to look at her as he moved. "Hang on, go back to the suicidal part."

"I wanted to be your wife, not your charity case." There was a trace of bitterness in her tone, remnants of some old wounds from their youth; she'd learned early that young women could be very unkind, though she wasn't as quick to defend herself as she defended others. As long as Bucky continued to want her around, she took those unpleasant comments in stride, though they chipped at her confidence little by little without her realizing it.

Now she wished she could go back in time and meet that Stephanie Rogers too. Give her a big hug and tell her, "Chin up, he loves you too." But maybe that girl wouldn't have been worthy. Of the serum, of the shield, of Mjolnir. Of him.

You've always been everything. She held on to him a little tighter at that, and hoped he knew that she wasn't letting him go now.

They had other things to talk about first, though. "The Helicarrier?" She hadn't wanted to remind him, but it was relevant. "I'd be dead if you didn't pull me outta the water." She'd meant it then, when she'd told him to kill her and finish his mission. What would've been the point of living, anyway, if he was lost to her?

She became even more adamant not to look at him as she added, "The plane in '45." She sighed. "I think the boys knew. They hovered around me after you... fell. Dernier even set the chaplain after me." She laughed, but it was hollow; for a moment she was back on that mountain, staring down at its icy slopes, waiting for a train. "Then Schmidt was gone and there were bombs in the plane and all I could think was, I could finally see you again."

She turned away, burying her face into his shoulder in shame. Yet at the same time there's an odd sort of relief at having told him, even if he might look at her differently now that he knew.

Bucky shook his head, eyes forward as he continued to walk. His ankle was killing him, he kept having to step over or around holes or fallen, but he was going to get her somewhere she could be taken care of. So what if he wasn't sure of where that was? "You've never been a charity case. Not to me."

As she explained the rest, though, he couldn't help frowning. The thought of her dying--especially if she took her own life over a broken man like him--was the worst thing he could imagine, so when she tucked her face into his shoulder like that he turned his head to press a kiss to her hair and considered his words.

"First off, don't you dare do anything stupid like that again or so help me," was what he settled on to begin with. Even though, lets be honest here, he was a hypocrite. Even all the way back to when she rescued him from that HYDRA facility, if she had fallen in that fire? He would have jumped after her. He would not have left that building without her, even if he died in the process.

"Secondly," Bucky sighed a bit. "On the helicarrier, and on the bridge and everything before that? You were the only thing that ever broke through. At all. After decades of them messing with my brain. Course I pulled you out of that river, I didn't even know who I was but I sure as shit knew you needed to be safe." In the distance, he could see what almost looked like an old Army med tent, but clearly with much more modern equipment than they ever had back then. "Course they knew. They'd heard for months about the amazing girl I needed to get home to propose to."

Edited 2025-09-10 21:20 (UTC)

"... Oh."

That Bucky had talked about her before she showed up at that HYDRA facility never occurred to her, let alone that he'd implied feeling anything other than friendship for her. She'd always thought the teasing she got was because Dum Dum found out she had a picture of Bucky in her compass and told the others. How could she not have seen it?

"Well, you better not die on me again, or so help me," she huffed. He'd be relieved to know she didn't try anything funny after he got snapped away — but only because she believed she deserved to suffer for her failures, that death would be a reward she didn't earn. Would she have sacrificed herself as Tony did, if she'd gotten to the gauntlet first? Of course she would've.

She winced suddenly and sharply sucked in a breath. Something else hurt, but she couldn't tell what exactly; for now her suit and her emotional state were keeping the rest of her body together. Probably some broken ribs. Probably some internal damage. She hadn't hurt this bad since she fought him on that Helicarrier.

Thankfully, they soon arrived at a med tent of sorts, though even with how awful she felt she insisted on getting him looked at first. "I'm fine, just a fracture," she said, trying to wave off the medic. "Just maybe some water, if you've got any."

"Oh, she says," Bucky half-mutters to himself as he gently places Steph on the closest open stretcher and rolls those eyes, then presses a kiss to her forehead before standing up. Very obviously limping, he walked over and grabbed a nearby chair before pulling it over beside the stretcher and sitting down. They weren't going to be separated again, dammit.

But then Steph was trying to say she was fine. "Nope. No," he said quickly. "I'm fine, just a couple scrapes and a rolled ankle. She is clearly a concussed idiot who should not be listened to. Tried to fistfight a giant grape." Bucky was just going to ignore the fact that now that he was seated and she had a doctor in front of her, he was starting to feel more and more pains. Those weren't important.

She smiled to herself as he dragged the chair next to the stretcher and reached out to run her good hand through his hair once he was seated. Maybe it was to be sure that he was still there, that she wasn't making this all up in her head, that it was okay to touch him now that they'd established what they truly meant to each other.

Then her fingers caught something, and she frowned. Drawing her hand back, she confirmed it was what she thought it was: blood. The dumbass had a head wound and didn't even realize it. Was that because of his old programming, all that training to not feel pain, or was he just being an idiot?

She tuned back to his conversation with the doctor just in time to hear him call her a 'concussed idiot' who 'tried to fistfight a giant grape'. It was funny, actually, but her concern trumped it and she huffed. "Says the dumbass bleeding from the head," she retorted, holding up her fingers to show to the doctor. "Don't trust what he says. He's probably bleeding elsewhere." So was she, probably, only it wouldn't be obvious because of the color of her suit.

Bucky was about to argue with her about the head wound, too, until he turned and saw his fingers for himself. "Huh." Frowning, he reached up to touch where she had touched and yep, it was wet with blood, but running her fingers over his scalp didn't reveal any large gashes or anything.

"It's probably just a small cut. I'm fine, sweetheart," he started, pulling his hand out of his hair to... well, he wiped his hand on his pant leg. They weren't exactly in pristine condition anyway. "Any kind of cut on the head always bleeds more than people think it will. You know that."

Reaching up, Bucky snagged the hand that she'd slid through his hair, not caring that it had his blood on it, then pulled it down so he could press a kiss to the back of it, before turning back to the doctor. "She wasn't even standing when I found her. Check her first." He played with her fingers a bit as he spoke, just happy to be able to do something like that, then turned his head to look at Steph. "You get checked first, I'll get checked after you, alright?"

What Bucky didn't notice was the slight look of amusement on the doctor's face as she looked back and forth between the bickering pair, but at least he did hear when she said they sounded like an old married couple.

Edited 2025-09-11 21:20 (UTC)

If he was trying to stop her from arguing with him by distracting her, it was working. She was particularly caught off-guard by how easily he'd made the transition. The casual use of sweetheart instead of her name, the little kisses, playing with her fingers. She'd thought he might have issues with touching or being touched, after everything, or that he'd want to keep things quiet for whatever reason.

"Okay," she relented. At any other time, she could and would argue with him all day, but it didn't feel like a particularly good use of their time — and they'd wasted so much of it already. That, and she was feeling rather out of sorts, which she admitted to in a roundabout way by asking, "Help me with my suit, please?"

The doctor looked even more amused by that, before saying something about giving them some privacy and excusing herself. Steph wouldn't have minded, long having gotten used to being wrapped in hospital gowns and examined by doctors, but she appreciated the discretion. Not because she didn't want anyone seeing and reporting that Captain America wasn't doing so great, but because she was suddenly self-conscious about her body. Bucky had never really seen this one before, or at least not like that.

Bucky nodded at the doctor as she left, then stood and moved to stand in front of Steph, clearly favoring one leg over the other. He chewed his lip a bit as he gently started unbuckling her shield from where it was still strapped to her obviously injured arm, trying not to jostle her too much.

But once that was set aside, he paused for a minute. Throughout their lives, he'd seen her in all sorts of states of undress and even helped her himself when she was sick a few of those times, propriety be damned. But that was before she knew what she meant to him. "Do you- Do you want me to help you with your suit or do you want me to get you the doctor?" It definitely wasn't that he didn't want to see her or anything, but more that he didn't want her to feel uncomfortable or pressured or anything. "I'll do whatever you want, Steph." Ever the respectful man from the 40s.

Edited 2025-09-11 22:21 (UTC)

"I want you," she answered, a dark flush coloring her paler than usual face; she meant that more than just helping her with the suit, too. She was no prude — a few years in the Army, back when it was mostly men, would do that to you — but she'd never actually been with anyone. Tony and Nat used to tease her about it and her old-fashioned sensibilities, but it hadn't even been about that. She just hadn't been interested. Everyone else only saw the body the serum gave her, not who she truly was, so why even bother?

"You've seen me in much less. It's fine." He'd even slept on her bed those times she was sick, and during those too cold winter nights in her rundown apartment. They'd also shared a tent on several occasions back during the war, when the nightmares and the horrors got too much and they needed a reminder that they weren't alone. This really wasn't that much different. Besides, it wasn't like she wasn't wearing anything under the suit, or that they were going to do something indecent. She wanted to, but sure as hell not in a med tent.

Bucky nodded again before reaching out to begin unhooking things for her. "Alright. Just didn't want things to be weird for you or anything." He would never want anything to be awkward for her if he could help it. But one of the big plus sides of being friends with her for so long was that he usually knew what was alright and what wasn't. Just because she was physically stronger now than she used to be didn't mean he was going to stop trying to look out for her.

As he got further into trying to get the suit off of her, though, he couldn't help chuckling a little. "You might have to direct me some here. Why'd you get such a complicated suit? Mine's just a jacket and some pants." And a couple belts but still, it was nothing compared to this thing.

"What's weird is I don't gotta hold back now," she admitted with a quiet laugh, catching and squeezing his flesh hand. She wasn't complaining though. After all, she'd only wanted this since they were teenagers. She could still remember the moment: when he took her Coney Island for her 15th birthday and convinced her to ride the Cyclone. He held her hair while she threw up in a trash can afterward, then she punched his arm because he was the worst, and as he hugged her in apology, she thought that she would do it again, if he asked. She would do anything he asked.

Except stay in Brooklyn while he went off to die in the war. She'd figured she was going to die eventually anyway — and her health had been in a state of decline after he'd left, not that she ever told him — so she might as well go out there and die with him. Thankfully, neither of them were really dead, but she gave his hand another squeeze just to be sure.

Then he commented on her suit, and she laughed. "Tony is as bad as Howard in making practical gear." Was, she mentally corrected a second later, but didn't say it out loud, just swallowed back the lump in her throat. She turned her gaze to the fabric around her left forearm, where Tony had seamlessly attached some electromagnets so she didn't need to strap on the shield all the time. "I think this was his backhanded attempt to get me to agree to some armor, or a petty payback for Siberia." Her voice broke at the end then, that particular loss hitting her now too. Fuck, Tony was dead.

It should've been me, she thought, before feeling a strange sort of guilt wash over her at her relief that it wasn't her.

Bucky squeezed her hand back for a moment, leaning down to press another kiss to the top of her head, before letting go to resume the unbuttoning, unbuckling, and undoing whatever else it was Tony made. What the hell was with the Starks and making things too complicated? And he never even got that flying car they were promised, either.

He worked quietly at her suit, finally getting the back open, at least, until he heard her voice break at the end there, then a rush of worry flooded through him. "Steph?" he asked softly, moving so he could kneel (because crouching was out of the question with how his ankle was acting up) in front of her, looking up at her. He brought his natural hand up to rest on the side of her face, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone gently. "Hey, I'm right here. What can I do?"

Tony had been trying for years to get Steph to agree to wear light armor instead of a suit, but she'd thought it impractical, and besides, what if she needed it repaired and Tony wasn't around? She could sew fabric, at least. Metal? Nanotech? She had no fucking idea what to do with those. In fact, she hoped Bucky's arm would never malfunction because she wouldn't know how to help. Such technologies were beyond her.

She'd been guiding his way through her suit, but their conversation had derailed that. She tilted her head to lean a little more into his hand, closing her eyes. "Tony is dead, Buck. He used the Stones. That's how we won." She'd been gunning for the gauntlet when it happened. Perhaps she should've stayed to help or something, but he had Pepper and Rhodey and the spider kid, and she'd needed to find Bucky. "Natasha, too. The Soul Stone needed a sacrifice. Clint came back alone."

It should've been me, she thought again, but the words did not come. For the first time in what felt like a really long time, she wanted to live. She covered his hand with hers, pursing her lips together as she fought back her tears. "There might still be others. I don't know, no one's given me a sitrep yet. We gotta check before we leave."

Bucky wasn't sure what to say about that news. He was far from close to Stark Jr, to the point that it caused a whole issue a couple of years earlier when they learned he killed Howard and Maria. Which Bucky, honestly, could not blame him for. But still, he was Steph's friend and it made Bucky's heart break for her.

And so was Nat. Bucky got along with her a bit better than with Stark, but he could understand where she was coming from a lot easier than the science guy. He knew they had a few similarities in their histories and, while that didn't automatically make them the best of friends--especially since he shot her that one time--it did make it hurt a little bit more.

"Of course, we'll find out whatever you need to," he said matter-of-factly. Even if he had to carry her around himself, letting her ask every person that was still on the battlefield how they and their loved ones were doing until she was satisfied, he would do it. Captain America was the one in charge, after all.

"Thank you." She met his eyes, looking like she had something more to say, but in the end she just quietly asked, "Can you hold me? Just for a minute?" The doctor might walk back in anytime soon but she felt too far away, needing something, someone to ground her.

Wrapping her good arm around him, she buried her face into his chest. "I'm really glad you're back," she whispered, feeling a little guilty that she had something to be happy about in the face of all the loss. "You're all I got left, you know?" She had friends and her team, sure, but it wasn't really the same. She was a lost, old soul, and only he really understood what that was like.

Bucky wrapped his arms around Steph, holding her to him and just letting her be. "You're all I've got, too," he said just as quietly. And it was even more true for him. While Steph had a while network of support and friends, Bucky really had barely anyone. He'd gotten fairly close to Shuri, making her kind of like a little sister to him, and he'd mended things with T'challa. Sam was alright, mostly. But Steph, she was the most important person in the world to him, past or present, and he wasn't sure what he'd do without her.

"But I'm back, alright?" He moved his natural hand up to stroke the back of her hair gently, just trying to comfort her. "I'm not gonna let anything separate us again. Not if I can help it."

She pulled back to look at him. "You better. I can't lose you again." Especially now that she knew he loved her back. If he died again, she wouldn't be able to take it. She'd already had enough of the universe trying to keep them apart.

Then she brought her hand up and gently ran her fingers through his hair. "Come on, let's get you looked at." Which wouldn't happen without her getting checked first. She gave him a small smile and shyly joked, "Then you can take off my clothes properly."

Bucky pressed another kiss to her hair, taking every chance to do things like that now that he was allowed, and pulled away just to finish getting that suit off of her. "Don't worry, Steph. You're stuck with me now." At least the situation they were in was serious enough to keep his mind from wandering as he helped her, getting her good arm out of one sleeve before being gentle with her hurt one.

Once they got her to a point they thought was good enough for the doctor, he stepped out from behind the curtain to wave the woman back down. When the doctor walked in he was already taking off his own jacket to get that out of the way, then tossed it aside on top of Steph's suit before limping back to flop down on his chair again.

The doctor had recognized Steph, but she still marveled at how Steph remained standing despite the extent of her injuries. She had bruises and cuts in many different places, a broken arm and broken ribs, probably a concussion. "I'm used to feeling like shit," Steph joked, not that it wasn't true, considering how sickly she'd been before the serum. The doctor wasn't having it though and insisted on bed rest and fluids while she splinted Steph's broken arm.

"After I check on the others," Steph insisted in turn. She wasn't leaving until she had everyone accounted for, and Bucky had promised to help. She asked the doctor then who else had been through the tent, if she had any idea where the others were staying, and if there was any food because now that the battle was over, she was starving. The pain she could ignore; the hunger, not really.

"I could use a pizza. Make that ten, with all the toppings. And a bath." Her initial thought, if she survived the fight, had been just to head back to her apartment in Brooklyn and pass out for the next three days, since it wasn't all that far from where they were. Reminded of that, she turned her head toward Bucky. "How did you get back? I mean, I saw the portals, but where were you before that?" Because if her hunch was right — that the vanished reappeared where they'd been dusted — then the whole world was probably still in chaos right now. Traffic would be bad.

Bucky listened carefully to everything the doctor said about Steph's injuries, filing it away so he could remind her as needed. After all, he remembered how often she'd try to get back out of bed when she was sick, long before she was actually well enough to do so. And that was before she could point out she had gotten the serum. "Told you you needed to be checked," he muttered, a humorless smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"Pizza sounds great, yeah. Lets go check on the others so we can eat," he started, standing up to pick up their things. He was ready to help Steph out of the tent and get on with their responsibilities, trying to escape his own checkover, but the doctor caught on way too easily. Having spotted a petty large wet patch on the side of his thigh, as well as the obvious limp, she told him to take off his pants and sit on the stretcher.

"I just showed back up in Wakanda," he started, explaining as the doctor checked him out. "Lying on the ground where I fell. We all kinda gathered up in a central area and someone made a portal here." During his exam he discovered the wet patch was a large gash, seemingly from someone's knife or sword, a fractured ankle, and some of his own broken ribs, not to mention several other cuts and bruises. Bucky barely even flinched as she stitched his thigh up then put a splint on his ankle with the promise that he'd keep it on, dammit, he would just loosen his bootlaces to do it. She also wanted him to use a crutch for the time being, though, and that he was less sure of. "It'll heal in no time. Can we go now?"

"I'll carry him if I gotta," Steph pitched in, ignoring the exasperated eyeroll the doctor gave them both for their stubbornness. She smirked at Bucky. "Won't be the first time."

Pretty big words for someone who had to be helped up and out of the tent, but she always did run her mouth and that hadn't changed. This time, however, she insisted on walking, so the pair of them limped together with their arms around each other. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, though they could do with less of it from now on. They'd already fought more than enough wars, hadn't they?

Bucky pulled his pants back on, followed by his boots - one of which could only be laced up halfway to fit the splint inside of it properly - before he limped out with her, leaving the crutch behind as he ignored the doctor muttering, "Jesus, they're stubborn as Stephen," as she rolled her eyes and walked away.

Once they got out of the tent Bucky frowned as he looked around. There were people still scattered everywhere, some in much better condition than others. "I guess we just pick a direction and go for right now? Do a quick lap before seeing if there's any updates from the other tents?" he asked. After a moment of thinking it over, and since Steph wasn't saying no, he started off in more or less the direction they came from. He figured he could start that way and then sort of circle around.

After walking for a few minutes and stopping to check on some people they saw along the way, Bucky spotted something on the ground. Once he got close enough to see what it was he changed their direction just slightly. "Hey, sweetheart, that weird hammer you had is over here," he said as they reached it. But Steph had one broken arm and the other wrapped around him so Bucky did the only rational thing. He picked it up for her. Easy peasy.

Steph was more than happy to let Bucky take the lead this time. She wasn't saying it out loud, but she was tired. It was only the need to make sure everyone else was accounted for that kept her going. For one, it was her responsibility as the leader of the Avengers. More importantly, however, there was a part of her that worried some universal karma would come back to haunt her and take Bucky away again if she didn't do her job; this was the least she could do in return for being spared and being reunited with her love.

Bucky's method was efficient, she had to give him that. He even did most of the talking, which allowed her to zone out for a bit. It wasn't rest, technically, but she was taking it.

That wasn't why she looked dazed when he turned to her after picking up Mjolnir, though. She'd heard him when he pointed the hammer out, and she'd been preparing to bend down to get it and tell him about that time the Avengers played a party game with it.

"Buck—" Oh, God. She believed in him, she'd always had, and the hammer coming away like it weighed nothing was proof that she was right all along. Tears springing to her eyes, she cupped his cheek with her good hand. "I knew it," she breathed, proud and fond and utterly vindicated. "You were always the best of us." Sure, she was the sick, scrawny girl who picked fights she could not win because it was the right thing to do, but he was the boy who always came to her rescue, who even followed her to the ugliest depths of war despite his mortality. She'd believed amount of brainwashing and reconditioning could change that.

Bucky stared at Steph when she cupped his cheek like that, confusion and worry written all over his face as he watched her. "Hey, I'm not- Sweetheart, what's going on? Are you hurting worse? I'll carry you again if you need me to." He genuinely had zero idea why she would have started saying that, or why she was looking up at him like that with tears in her eyes. After simply looping the strap of the hammer around his wrist, Bucky brought his natural hand up to rest on the side of Steph's face, his thumb wiping away a tear that escaped her eye.

Whatever it was that happened, he was more than willing to help her through it. He had put her first since they were kids, and he would continue to put her first for the rest of his life, whether she wanted him to or not.

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