dysmorphics | open post

Bucky didn't even flinch when Steph hit him in the chest. He was too busy staring at her, wide eyed and shocked as her words sank into his thick skull. "You- She never told me," Bucky's voice was quieter than it had been earlier and he watched her expression carefully.

"Steph, there was no shot I'd end up married to anyone else. Even my squad knew I was tying to get home to you." That might have been the single most honest thing Bucky had ever told her.

"She never—" What the hell? Well, okay, she could imagine scenarios where she'd keep her silence, but she thought she'd have it in her to be brave enough with the truth if he returned after she nearly lost him. Guess she was a fucking coward after all, huh.

Apparently he told everyone else but her though. "Well why didn't you say anything?" But she wasn't yelling anymore. Rather she was frowning, thinking back to the last time she'd seen him, if there was anything at all to hint at what he felt. "You could've asked her to wait." And she did wait, even if he hadn't asked. Would've been nice to have some confirmation, though.

"Hey, I had good reasons," Bucky frowned. Not happy reasons, but ones that definitely explained it. And he should at least give her the abridged version. "Got captured and brainwashed for seventy years. Spent a couple years trying to remember things after I escaped. I wasn't... Safe. To be around. For anyone."

He looked back towards the lake then. Not at anything in particular, just sort of off into the distance. "They had, uh, trigger words in my head. If they said them I'd do anything they wanted. I finally got rid of those and then not long after that there was another battle, then half the population disappeared for five years. I haven't been back from that for long. Just a couple weeks." See? He had reasons, at least.

"So you didn't like her until she was... better." Since going off to war wasn't even on his list of reasons for not saying anything. It stung, but it could have been worse. Besides, she couldn't be angry at him now after he'd told her all that. He'd been a prisoner for 70 years? Brainwashed, forced to do awful things? Her feelings were irrelevant in the face of that.

It was then that she finally noticed his hand. Eyes flying wide, she reached for it to take into her own and examine. What she'd thought was some kind of rot or illness turned out to be something else entirely. His fingers were cold. Metal.

"They did this to you?"

"What? No. Lord no. Stop assuming things like that." Bucky rolled his eyes then, taking the slight moment of distraction from talking about the shit he'd been put through for so long. "I got to be pretty good friends with some of the guy in my squad before we got captured that first time. They knew better than to even try to get me to so much as dance with a woman on leave weekends since there was a great girl back home I wanted to get back to so I could ask her to marry me. That was months before I found out she went and let herself be a damn test subject."

Chewing his lip, he looked at her again then. "I didn't want to put something like that on you right before I left. I didn't want you to feel obligated, or to pass on something better if someone else came along. And I also knew I wanted to ask you in person, not just in a letter."

But then Steph was examining his hand, and he let her. He didn't pull away at all, just let her look at it as close as she wanted to, turning it for her when it seemed like that was what she was aiming for and everything. "I, uh. I lost my arm when I fell off that train, so they gave me a replacement I didn't want. It got destroyed a few years ago-" by Stark's kid, no less, which was the least Bucky owed him, asshole or not, "-and Steph called in some favors to get this one made for me. I haven't had this one long."

There it was, the truth. It was kind of hard to take in, actually. Their lives could have been so much different, so much happier, and that hurt Steph to know.

But maybe there was still a way to fix things. "You said your friends can send me back, right? You gotta come with me then. We'll find her, and you two can... talk. Figure your shit out."

She dropped her gaze to his hand, brushing her fingertips over the back of it. "I've loved you since I was 16," she quietly confessed. She had nothing left to lose now, so she might as well unload this heavy secret from her chest. "Remember when you took me to Coney Island for my birthday, and I threw up on you after we rode the Cyclone?" She picked up the glove and started putting it back on, once more blinking back tears. "That would have been in... 1934. All this time, she—"

Slowly, she let go of his hand, but she still wouldn't look at him. "I don't know why she did what she did. But I know that she loves you."

"They're more her friends than mine, but if anyone can figure it out it's them." He paused then, a simple idea hitting him. "I'll give Shuri a call, too, if Banner hasn't done it yet. I'm sure she'd get her team on it."

Steph might have looked away then, but Bucky didn't. He continued to watch her closely as she put his glove back on. It felt like his heart was breaking and swelling at the same time, and Bucky wasn't sure what to do with that, so he decided to just... be honest. "I don't know how old I was," he started, his voice quiet when he spoke. "I was 15 or 16 when I realized I felt that way, but I realized I had already felt that way about you for a while."

A small, sad laugh came out of Bucky then. "Now I'm a hundred-and-something-year-old disabled war vet that can be called semi-stable at best and I still feel that way."

He laughed and disparaged himself, but she looked up at his face with all the love she had for him, which was so much more than her tiny body could ever hold.

Then she groaned and pressed her palms into her eyelids. "I can't believe it. I knew we were stupid, but not this stupid." They really let all that time, all those opportunities pass them by? Now she — Future Steph, the dumbass (hey, he wasn't the only one who could call her stupid) — was gone and they both thought, until just now, that they didn't matter to each other? "She really thought she was doing you a favor by fucking off and changing the past? What if we never met? What if you... fell for someone else..."

I'm sorry, but you have to disappear. She was beginning to think her future self wasn't as considerate as Bucky believed her to be. It wasn't about giving a version of her a shot at a healthy, normal life; it was about removing herself from the equation. Maybe he wouldn't be captured? Maybe he wouldn't fall off the train? Maybe he wouldn't be brainwashed? Steph had no idea how her presence could've caused any of those, not without knowing the full details, but that was what her gut was telling her.

Because, yes. She would kill herself to save him, if it came to that. She would probably even let herself die if he got killed in action overseas, and hope that they would bury her next to him.

Bucky thought about that for a minute, wondering why Steph would have gone back to the point she picked. Sure, he was a dumbass, but sometimes he could figure things out. He did have a brain buried in there somewhere.

He tightened his arms around the smaller Steph then, trying to give her even a slight bit of comfort. And then he thought of something. "Maybe if the HYDRA spy didn't see you get the serum they wouldn't have had enough information to make the knock off they shot me up with? I didn't know what they were doing then, but I know now they'd already started the process when she saved my ass the first time. It's why I didn't actually die when I fell off the train, just lost my arm on the rocks." At least Steph wouldn't have to worry about him trying to make her ride the Cyclone again. He didn't like heights anymore. He'd deal with them if he had to, but he wasn't a fan.

"She might even be trying to keep me from getting captured in the first place. Both things would change a hell of a lot." He frowned again. "But I'd still know you, and I'd end up trying to find out what happened to you." Hell, just the fact that he never thought Steph had feelings for him and still hadn't gone on a date--fake or not--since 1943 was proof that he wouldn't move on.

She was a different Steph, he was a different Bucky, but when he tightened his arms around her, she leaned into him without hesitation, like it was the most natural thing in the world. It didn't matter to her that he'd been to war and had been forced to do awful things and was missing an arm. His embrace still felt as it did, comforting and safe.

"She's bringing you home," she realized. He had gotten captured and had been believed dead, so technically she hadn't succeeded in their lifetime. But with time travel... "But what will that mean for you? Won't you, I don't know, change? Disappear? Because your past has been altered?" Her head hurt trying to understand the complexities of everything, but she was stubborn enough to try.

"I have no idea," Bucky said simply, shrugging one shoulder. There were a lot of different ways changing history could go according to science fiction, but he didn't exactly have practical experience with it. "The first time they did this time travel shit I sort of... didn't exist. Maybe I'll disappear again. Maybe she'll just make a new timeline where she gets to be with a version of me that isn't a broken mess."

He was admittedly a hell of a lot better than he used to be, but Bucky definitely still saw himself as a broken mess. He was trying though, so at least there was that.

"Either way," he reached up with his metal hand to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. "I'll be here to help you as much as you want me to, and as long as I can be, alright? I promise. I'm not going anywhere."

It was bad enough to hear that he disappeared. It felt worse that he thought he was broken, and that she would leave him to be with the version of him who wasn't. Shame filled her, even if the act hadn't been hers. If that was an older version of her, did that mean she was destined to make the same awful choices?

... but she told him the truth about how she felt. That was something Future Steph hadn't done. So maybe she wasn't trapped in whatever chain of events that supposedly made up her life? God, she hoped so.

"I'll stay with you," she said quietly, and this time she placed her arms around him. Or tried to. Somehow it now seemed impossible. Next time she might just hang off his neck. Hah.

"To the end of the line, Buck," she added, and she meant it as much as she did the first time. "I promised." It probably wouldn't soothe his pain, and he probably would never love her the way he loved his Steph, but a promise was a promise.

Because there had never been a time when Bucky had his serum while Steph didn't, he thought she had never felt as small in his arms as she did that afternoon. It was a realization that hit him when she wrapped her arms around him. Still, her words and the hug did relax him a bit. He even pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Good, because I've been staying in your guest room since I got back." Legally, everything that had belonged to the other Steph had to belong to the one in his arms, right? They were the same person, just from two different points in their lives.

Plus, Bucky hadn't wanted to end up separated from her again. And yet, here they were.

But, at least he wouldn't be completely alone. Sure, a hell of a lot younger, and she didn't know most of what happened in the years since he got on a ship to England, but she was still Steph. He had loved her when he was a teenager, he loved her on the day she was pulled there from, and he loved her now.

"Just say the word and I'll take you there whenever you want, alright?"

"In my... oh, right." This was going to take a lot of getting used to. And that was on top of getting used to living in 2023. The alien invasions and time traveling might be particularly fantastical, but discovering who Stephanie Rogers had become was going to be even more so.

She pulled her arms back but didn't away from their little spot on the ground. "I could use a change of clothes," she said, glancing down at the ill-fitted suit. It looked like some kind of armor, but Bucky wasn't wearing anything like it. Neither were the men who had been around earlier.

"Where are we, anyway? This doesn't look like Brooklyn."

Unwrapping his arms from around her, Bucky let his hands rest on her shoulders as well and frowned a bit at the mention of Steph needing clothes. Yeah, that suit was definitely too big. "I'm sure she's got something we can make work for you, but the serum, uh... It made her bigger. And I'm not sure how old women's clothes measurements translate to today. I know they're different."

Wait. If the other Steph put this one in her suit, did that mean the other one was running around Brooklyn in her underwear? Because this Steph's clothes wouldn't have fit her. Dumbass.

"We're still in New York, don't worry." Bucky actually let a small grin tug at his mouth as he thought of something she might like, though, and gave her a light thump on the underside of her chin with the side of his knuckle. "If you could have anything in the world for dinner tonight without having to worry about cooking it, what would it be?" Food delivery. Sometimes he thought that was one of his favorite modern conveniences. Plus, there were hundreds--if not thousands--of restaurants of all kinds in New York now.

"Anything at all?" Steph needed a minute to answer that, having been so used to stretching a budget to make ends meet, especially after her Ma passed and the threat of war loomed closer. Needs were easy to name. Wants far less so.

She eventually settled with, "Roast beef, mashed potatoes, and... chocolate souffle?" but even then she was clearly hesitating. That particular meal combination was something she only ever had at Bucky's place for Christmas dinner, so it was a real treat by her book. Nevermind that the mashed potatoes of her time were bland and boring; she didn't know any better (yet).

"Spaghetti's fine, though," she felt compelled to add after a moment, not wanting to be a burden in case he was actually thinking of getting them food. The spaghetti she knew how to make was cheap and easy — carrots and white sauce.

"Christmas dinner, huh?" Bucky said, letting himself continue to grin at her. "I'll see what I can do. I haven't had that-" since 1942 "-in years." Bucky was aware that his family had been a bit more well off than Steph's household when they were young, but Bucky had tried to include the Rogers's as often as he could get away with. Which, looking back now that he was older, it seemed his Ma was happy to do as well. Especially once it went from Mrs. Rogers and Steph to only Steph.

Idly, Bucky wondered if his family had his feelings for his best friend figured out. They probably did.

"One of my favorite things about being in this time? You can get almost anything delivered to your door, so we don't even have to clean up for a restaurant." Once he got some new clothes for her, however, Bucky would be happy to take her out to dinner somewhere. He might not be the biggest fan of going into crowds or anything of the like, but he was pretty sure he would be a big fan of showing her the sights of 2023.

"You said anything," Steph mumbled, a little defensively. "I like Christmas dinners." She pinked at the admission, but it also made her sad a moment later. Bucky wouldn't be home for Christmas this year.

Neither would she, apparently. Which was fine since she was safe and not like, in the thick of war. Besides, it wasn't like she would be missed. Her parents were gone, her other relatives were back in Ireland and she didn't know them, and Bucky was gone. Maybe just Becca, but Becca was nice to everyone.

Getting to her feet, she almost fell right back down and flat on her face from the suit being a few sizes too large on her. (Steph's only concern was that her younger self would survive the trip through the quantum realm; Steph knew Bucky would look out for her once she made it through.)

"Really?" Though she shouldn't be surprised at the concept of delivery when time travel was possible, right? Still, that was cool. Probably expensive, but Bucky had always been better off financially.

They were interrupted by Sam and Bruce reappearing. Bruce held out his tablet to Bucky; it was some of Steph's old medical records. "These the right ones or do we have to keep looking?" This wasn't exactly a scenario they'd prepared for, but it was a known historical fact that Captain America used to be small and sickly before the serum.

Sam, meanwhile, offered his hand to Steph and reintroduced himself.

"Hey, I like Christmas dinners, too! I just haven't had one since '42!" Bucky quickly climbed to his feet as well and placed a hand on Steph's back to steady her. He never had one of those time travel type suits, but he knew the more armored suits were definitely heavier than normal clothes, and this Steph was small and unused to them.

God, was she always this small? He couldn't help noticing that. And then he remembered that, yeah, she had been. He was the one who got bigger, but beside the other Steph, it was a hell of a lot less noticeable that he'd gotten bigger since he didn't grow nearly as much. But he had definitely grown.

He kept his hand pressed to Steph's back as the guys approached, then took the tablet from Bruce with his free hand. Scanning down the list, he nodded, making sure everything (he knew of, which should be everything) was listed before handing it back. "Yeah, that should be all of it," he said, nodding as he passed the tablet back to the green guy.

Bucky only let go of Steph to take the opportunity to quickly pull his hair tie off of his metal wrist and pull his hair back out of his face while Bruce reintroduced himself to Steph, then placed his hand on her back and looked down at her once more as soon as he was done. "I'm pretty sure she's known Bruce longer, but for some reason, Sam here is one of her best friends."

Sam grinned. "Well, I do what she does, just slower."

Steph was grateful that Bucky kept his hand on her back, because she was feeling light-headed from all this. Not just the suit being heavy and weird, not just time travel and being in the future, but apparently having all these friends and a whole life and not remembering any of it. They knew so much about her, but also didn't truly know her? Were they expecting her to just... pick up what her future counterpart had left behind?

"Thanks for your help," she decided to say to these strangers who were supposed to be her friends. "Sorry, I... I don't know—" She wheezed suddenly. "Shit." She started frantically patting herself before turning to Bucky with a panicked look. "My cigarettes—" They had been in her dress pocket. "You don't happen to have...?"

"Shit, shit," Bucky muttered, giving the guys a glance as he pointed out it was her asthma, then moved to stand in front of her with his hands on her shoulders. "Shit, Steph, I don't- I stopped carrying that stuff around since you didn't need it anymore." But that would change. He would fill his backpack with nothing but medical supplies if he had to, but he was sure it wouldn't come to that.

In the background he could hear Sam questioning, "Cigarettes? For asthma?!" and Bruce seemed to turn away and get on his phone, but neither of them were important in that moment.

"I don't-" he started again, running his fingers through her hair as his mind reeled, trying desperately to remember what he'd read about how asthma was treated in recent years. Keeping an eye on news of new treatments for the ailments Steph had was an old habit that Bucky didn't quite break. "I don't think they even use those anymore. There's something else. I think an inhaler or something?"

Bruce hung up his phone and turned back to them, then, keeping his voice as calm as he could as he spoke to Steph. "Hey, it's okay. Strange is going to get an inhaler here pronto, and then he's going to look at your file and see what else you might need."

Bucky hadn't stopped touching or looking at Steph through all that, though. "See? I told you, you've got friends. You just need to meet them all again."

Edited (immediately forgot to close html wooooo) 2025-11-29 11:35 (UTC)

Was it asthma or a panic attack? Likely both, starting as one then becoming the other. Thankfully, Bucky was there. He was there, older and sadder but there, grounding her. Steph reached up to grip one of his hands on her shoulder; she was holding on so tightly her knuckles turned white, but it was probably just a tickle for him now.

She focused on him, and, after a few minutes, her chest loosened enough for her to breathe a bit more freely. The others were talking, offering assistance, to which she only nodded mutely. She didn't want to be rude, but this was all just too much.

Somehow she was guided down the platform and under the shade of a tree. Bruce offered her a chair, but she wouldn't detach herself from Bucky that they just ended up on the ground, her on his lap, her back to his chest. This was familiar. This was comforting. Closing her eyes, she could almost forget that she'd been thrown forward in time, that this Bucky wasn't the one she'd said goodbye to not too long ago. (Or well he was, in some way. Technically. Thinking about that made her head hurt, so she just didn't.)

More weird noises. More voices she didn't recognize. She tuned them out, focusing on Bucky's presence instead: his touch, his breathing, how his arms could now swallow her whole. She could probably crawl inside his shirt and no one would notice.

"Is that—"
"What do you mean Cap—"
"She's so... small."

Bucky's focus on Steph didn't waver until Strange stood beside them, for some reason wearing that stupid cape over casual clothes. But Bucky listened as he explained how the inhaler worked, then nodded and took it from him.

"Hey, punk," he started, voice soft and caring as he looked back down at her. Once he had her attention, he explained how the inhaler worked and pressed it into her hand, then brushed her hair back from her face again once she had a hold of it. "Turns out the cigs make asthma and everything else worse, and these things do a better job anyway."

Bucky would absolutely be getting a few extras of those, and he would be keeping at least one on him at all times, just like he used to keep her asthma cigarettes on him, as well as regular ones.

The inhaler wasn't overly complicated, and it worked like a charm. Steph stared at the modern medical device in her hand in amazement. "Whoa." She did feel a lot better, which apparently was the whole science of it, though she found herself missing the particular high smoking a cig gave her.

Someone had thought to bring her water, too. And a snack. Which, because they expected Steph-With-The-Serum, was a dozen burgers and buckets of fries. She picked up a burger and gawked at the portion size. "People eat this much?" asked she who ate like a bird most days, both because of her smaller stature and because food was scarce and had to last as long as possible.

She took a bite of the burger and made such a pleased noise that she blushed because it almost sounded like she was... well. "Holy shit, this is good. Buck, you gotta have some," she offered, forgetting that he'd have already made his acquaintance with modern food.

When Steph started breathing easier so quickly, Bucky felt tension drain out of him. He hadn't been sure just how fast that thing would work, but it sure seemed to do the trick.

As Steph was handed the food and a drink, Bucky took the inhaler and slid it into his pocket, then laughed a bit at her reaction. It was great to see her so excited for a minute. "Most people don't eat this much, but a bunch of us that had crazy shit happen to us do. The other you could eat a ton, and so can I. But I bet Banner over there could eat four times as much as I can."

Off to the side he could hear Bruce just say, "Hey!" but it didn't actually sound upset.

Bucky checked the side of the bag for a logo. "Oh, yeah. Their burgers are pretty good. I've had them a couple times. Lots of good milkshakes, too."

oops it's short

no complaints here, esp if it helps you survive your dinner thing!

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