dysmorphics | open post

Steph was in the bedroom for about half an hour. Picking clothes was easy; they were all too big on her, but nothing some twisting and quick stitching couldn't fix. If there had been any doubt that Cap was Steph, just older, it would've been obliterated by the fact that Cap had a sewing kit in her room, tucked in the exact same compartment Steph had hers in 1943. (They didn't have the exact same drawer, but they had the exact same taste.)

It was looking at the photos that delayed her. She lingered in particular at the framed one Cap had on her nightstand, a black and white photo of her when she was Steph's age, and Bucky. The photo was worn with age, but Steph could remember when it was taken: just about three months ago, before Bucky was first deployed. Steph had washed and pressed his uniform, and he looked so handsome when he put it on. He then insisted they get photographs, for which he tried to help with curling her hair. He was shit at it though, so she'd told him to just read to her while she finished up.

For a few minutes that felt like hours, she sat on the edge of the bed, holding the frame with one hand while pressing the fingertips of the other on the glass over Bucky's face. She would never see him again. Even if Dr. Banner and the others could figure out a way to send her back, how could she leave this Bucky now here with her, who had been cruelly abandoned by the woman he loved, who happened to be a future version of Steph?

That thought giving her a renewed resolve, she wiped away her tears, went to quickly alter some of Cap's clothes, and rejoined Bucky in the living room, wearing one of Cap's shirts as a dress.

"Sorry I took so long," she said as she made her way back to the couch. "I had to do some sewing."

Bucky was relaxed on the couch when he came back, feet propped up on the coffee table, metal arm (the sleeve of his shirt covering all but his hand) resting on the arm, and the remote in his hand as he flicked through the channels. He had just settled on a classics channel, with that show about the loud woman and her Cuban husband, since it wasn't quite Steph's time, but it was at least a hell of a lot closer.

"Nothing to apologize for," he said and shrugged as he set the remote on the end table, then looked over at her with a soft grin on his face. Shit, she looked cute as hell. "You find everything alright in there? I swear, we'll get some clothes in your size as soon as we figure out what it is."

"Yeah. I just... she wore guy clothes?" She hadn't been able to find any dresses or skirts, though there were some tank tops she'd already set aside to alter. Maybe dresses fell out of style or something. She was still going to wear them though. She liked her dresses, and her hair in curls. Which weren't in curls anymore from all the action she'd seen so far. Reminded of that, she combed her hair with her fingers self-consciously.

Then she picked up her can, took a sip, before pulling back to stare at it in disbelief. "It's sweet," she noted with surprise. "I like it. Thank you."

She scooted a little more toward the back of the couch, and just a bit closer to him. Not too much that she'd be intruding on his space, but enough for her presence to hopefully be of comfort if he needed it. "You okay? I know that was... a lot." He'd already helped her with so much today. It was her turn.

"What, like the pants? Yeah. I mean, pretty sure they're womens pants though," Bucky let his head rest against the back of the couch, but had his head turned to watch Steph. "Most women wear pants more often than not now, and she... She wasn't a fan of how men would talk about her body after she got the serum."

Sure, the serum made Steph's body stereotypically hot, but Bucky had always thought she was gorgeous, no matter if she was skinny or an hourglass. It was never based on her looks.

"Women have been wearing pants more and more over the last few decades, now a lot of people just don't give any kinds of shit who wears what anymore. Women in suits, men in skirts sometimes, pretty sure they just want people to be comfortable in their own skin." It was something that Bucky had taken note of since he wasn't comfortable in his own skin, but for a very different reason.

Actually, it was metal he wasn't comfortable in, not skin.

"That's really nice." Steph had always had strong feelings about fairness and women's rights, so she was pleased to know the future made some improvements in that regard. That explained Cap's wardrobe choices, but there was still something she couldn't quite wrap her mind around without a visual reference.

Carefully, because she knew it might stir feelings in Bucky, she asked, "Do you have a photo of her?" For while Cap had many photos in her apartment, she was strangely absent in the colored ones — the ones presumably after her body was changed by the serum. Steph wanted to understand just how much changed, and why Bucky and Cap's friends talked like she spent a lot of time fighting. (Or avenging, for that matter.) Even if Cap hadn't wanted to be photographed, she'd have let Bucky take some photos of her, or of them together. Steph did, despite usually feeling she wasn't pretty enough. All it took was Bucky looking at her like she was.

Bucky glanced around the room at the various photos before remembering that Steph really hadn't been in pictures all that often since the serum. Not outside of official ones, at least. But Bucky, of course, had managed to get a few of her once he figured out smartphone cameras. "Yeah, I've got some."

Reaching into the pocket of his baggy pajama pants, he pulled out his phone. It didn't take him long to find a good shot of Steph, taken in the same field as the one in his bedroom, as she laughed at something Rogers did. Probably headbutted another rhino or something.

He had more pictures on his phone of Steph than she probably realized he had taken.

"Here," he said, leaning closer as he handed the phone to this new, but also old, Steph, his arm brushing against her shoulder. "If you slide your finger across the screen left or right, you'll see more pictures." Sure, there were lots of pictures of goats, but also several of Steph on her last visit to Wakanda before the big battle. Even a couple of them together, mostly at her urging.

The phone was fascinating, but the pictures were more so. The woman in them had Steph's eyes, but she thought that was where the resemblance ended. Cap looked like an actress or model playing dress up for war propaganda materials, gorgeous and intimidating all at once in her short hair and dark armored suit. She was dressed more casually in the other photos, but she still had that gritty aura about her, one that impressed and commanded respect.

"Shit, she's so beautiful. And badass." Which Steph wasn't. She tried to ward off the ugly knot that suddenly formed in her chest by changing the subject. "Why do they call her Cap? Is it, like, Captain?" He did mention that she'd saved him during the war or something.

Edited 2025-12-01 13:12 (UTC)

The look on Bucky's face when he spoke again was sort of a blend between bashful and sad. "I mean, I never thought she was any more or less beautiful after the serum than before. It was just a different kind," he shrugged, as he looked away from the photo and at the small blonde beside him again.

But his expression definitely turned more amused at the question about her name. "That's sorta my fault," he started. "When she first got the serum, they had her doing this dumb stage show for morale. She had chorus girls and everything, and they were billing her as Lady Liberty. After she pulled the 107th's asses out of the fire, any time I heard someone say some garbage about her looks or whatever on our march back to camp I'd get on them, telling 'em they should call her Captain. When we got back, I said some shit about her being Captain America and the name stuck."

Steph missed the look, because she ducked her head just as Bucky turned to look at her. He... thought she was pretty like this? That was nice to know. She'd always worried some other girl would catch his eye and he'd forget about her; then she'd worried she couldn't hold a candle to the utterly gorgeous Steph who saved the universe and jumped off planes without a parachute.

"That's a hell of a name to live up to," she mused, idly swiping through more photos. Captain America. Wow. Seemed like Cap did their country proud, though. Her friends were, she'd seen it on their faces. How disappointed they must have been to have tiny, useless Steph in her place.

Then she paused at a photo, turning to show it to him. "Is that why she's wearing the flag?" It's an unusual picture though. The very prominent American flag design aside, Cap was wearing a skirt, not a suit.

Bucky couldn't help laughing a bit at the picture in question. It was one of the posters for her Lady Liberty show, Steph posing with her fake shield and a salute. "Yeah, that was how they had her dress as Lady Liberty for her show. I never got to see her performance, unfortunately, so I looked up pictures a while back to tease her with. It's easy to look up anything now."

Slouching down on the couch a bit so he could look over her shoulder instead of looming over her, he watched as she continued to flip through the pictures. Thankfully, he wasn't the sort to take those embarrassing selfies that he saw so many people on the internet posting, so it was mostly just pictures of Steph, goats, or random items that Bucky didn't know the use for. He took a picture of those to send to Steph to see if she knew.

She was so small beside him that a part of him worried that the chin he let rest on her shoulder would be too heavy. She would probably tell him if it was, or shove him off or something, but he just wanted that extra bit of closeness. At least for a minute.

Instead of shoving Bucky off, Steph did the opposite and tried to scoot back into him. It was a natural reaction from her, having been so used to being in close contact with him. In hindsight, it was really stupid for neither of them to realize the other had feelings. Not with how touchy they got with each other, which wasn't something 'just friends' did.

Maybe they did know, deep down. They were just too scared. Now they'd lost their chance.

... well, not really. This was a second chance, wasn't it? In some bizarre, mindblowing way that she might just have to stop questioning.

She had to laugh at the photo. It was so silly, but she supposed it worked if it made Cap self-conscious of her new body. "Guess she really boosted morale, huh." Reminded of something, she turned her head to look at him, or at least try to, since his chin was on her shoulder. "We won, right? The war?"

No sooner had she said it that she realized their faces were so close now. He definitely looked older, and a lot less clean-shaven than she was used to, but he was still Bucky.

Not really knowing what possessed her, she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek then.

"I hear we won, at least." He wasn't exactly in the best position to witness the end of the war, after all.

But then Steph was pressing a kiss to his cheek and Bucky couldn't help it. He might be over a hundred years old (either 101 or 106, depending on how you looked at it), but this tiny woman pressing a kiss to his cheek still made his face go red just like it did the rare times she did it when they were young.

"Yeah. Yes. In um," apparently Steph shorted Bucky's brain out for a moment there. "45, I think? I was sorta... already out of commission by then."

Bucky didn't pull away from her though, just let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes, turning his body just slightly so his metal arm could reach across to drape gently over her waist. "I'm so old, Steph. I wasn't... aware for most of it, but I'm over a hundred now. And the things they made me do..."

Steph passed the phone to her other hand, then placed her newly freed one over Bucky's metal fingers. It should be weird. This whole thing was weird. He was over a hundred to her 25; she was the ghost of his lost love. But being in his arms felt no different, even if one was made of metal now.

"It's behind you now, right? You're free?" Not just free from being controlled, but free of the war, and free to do whatever he wanted.

In an attempt to lighten up the mood, she teased, "Don't worry, I'll take care of you, old man. I'll give you baths and help you get dressed and hold your hand when you cross the road."

Bucky was still learning about and getting used to his new arm, but one thing he appreciated was the better pressure sensors. It meant he could feel Steph's hand resting on top of his more than he would have with his last arm.

"No more wars if I can help it," he said simply, even though he'd been drafted into the first one, so he hadn't even wanted that one. Back then, he'd just wanted to stay home and keep an eye on his best friend. "No more trigger words. I'll probably have a trial eventually, but I have no idea when yet." And who knows how that would go, especially with Captain America gone and unable to vouch for him.

But he wasn't completely alone, so that was good.

"Hey, you might prefer bumming around with people closer to your age," he said with a soft chuckle. Everyone he knew of was closer to her age, except maybe Thor. And he really only knew of him in passing. "I could at least introduce you to Shuri. She's not much younger than you."

A trial. Steph knew the things Bucky had been made to do were bad, even if he hadn't detailed what, but the thought of him potentially being locked up because of them worried her. Shit, she'd have to figure something out, just in case.

But she didn't want him worrying about her worrying, so she just squeezed his hand and said nothing about it. She'd think about it later. Probably start by befriending Cap's friends and go from there.

Which he was suggesting, sort of. She waved the phone in her other hand. "I didn't even know what this was. Or that." She gestured at the TV with the same hand. "Or that— what is that?" This time she was pointing at the tablet on the coffee table. It was locked with a passcode (Bucky's birthday) and needed charging, but they would find it filled with Cap's newer art, mostly from the last five years after the Snap. "I'm nearly old as you are, I just wasn't aware for most of it," she parroted back to him.

"I bugged the other Steph with questions about what everything was for a pretty good while." Hell, he'd texted her earlier that week asking what some weird thing in her kitchen was for. "Seems only fair that you ask me now. And if I don't know I'll find out for you. But, for the record. That's my phone in your hand, TV on the wall, and the thing on the table is... a..." Bucky actually squinted as he stared at the thing, as though that would help him remember better. "Tablet? Pretty sure it's a tablet. It's kinda like a big phone, but doesn't make calls."

Bucky rolled his eyes at the parroting, though. Because of course he did. "Nope, you skipped. I was alive, just frozen most of the time. No time travel involved." That was probably the most bare bones and nonsensical way he could have phrased that, but there it was. Too late.

"Frozen?"

This Steph might not know what it felt like to be buried alive in ice, but she knew what it felt like to be cold. She'd spent many winter nights shivering in her rundown apartment with blankets and sheets that barely offered warmth, wondering and waiting if it was finally the day she was going to die. That part, the waiting, was the worst. Death would have offered respite; otherwise it was a prolonged suffering. Was that what it had been like for him?

She slowly shifted in his hold, but only so she could face him properly and put her arms around him again. She still couldn't quite manage, which would've been funny if their conversation hadn't turned serious. "I'm so sorry, Buck. It all sounds so awful—" She shook her head, her face pressed against his chest. "But I'm glad you're still alive. I'm glad I got to be with you again."

Bucky didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around Steph in return, holding her close as he pressed a kiss to her hair. "It's... I can't say "it's okay," because it's not really. But I survived it. I'm here now." Though if they hadn't sent him in particular after Steph he likely would have either still been with them or killed like the rest of the Soldiers.

"But yeah, it's called cryogenic freezing. Kinda... freezes your body, but you're not dead. You can be woken back up whenever needed, then put back under again. Think like... I don't know, a cold coma without aging." And that's what he'd spent decades going in and out of, but not until after all the time it took to get his mind to start giving up. He had spent quite a while hoping Steph would come for him again, but also hoping she stayed far, far away from that lab. "I'm glad I'm here, too." Most of the time. "And that you're here. If nothing else, we know that the inhaler worked faster on you than your smokes did."

Steph's grip tightened as Bucky explained what he meant exactly by being frozen. Now there was one modern development she wasn't enamored with, because what the fuck? War was truly horrifying, and while she'd barely lived through one, it was enough that she'd lost her father and almost lost her best friend to it.

"Just be here. It's okay if you're not okay." She hadn't been okay for years, probably never really, yet he stood by her side anyway. She would do the same, and more.

Now she understood Cap's decision to leave. She owed it to him to try. But whether or not Steph's presence here was planned, she felt like she was meant to stay. She would never, ever be able to fill Cap's shoes, but she could love him and be with him.

"That's what I'm trying to do," Bucky said with a sigh. Since the Blip, he had been dragging his feet on going back to Wakanda to see if he still had any goats, not wanting to get taken away from Steph again, but not quite admitting that's what he was doing. But now he was glad he hadn't gone back. What would this Steph do if he hadn't been there? Sure, he would have gotten to her as fast as he could as soon as he heard, but that was beside the point.

"You don't mind if I keep staying in your apartment, do you?" he asked, a half-joke to try to lighten the mood just slightly. Sure, it fell flat on its face, but at least he tried. "You're the one with all the money. I can't afford rent around here."

"I have money?" Steph pulled back to look at him with a grin, getting an idea. "We should go to Coney Island." She hated that rollercoaster and wouldn't get on it ever again, not even for a million dollars, but she liked everything else. Bucky used to take her every year on her birthday, until this year, or, well, the year she came from.

She glanced around the apartment. It was too big for one person. She had a feeling Cap had intended for him to live here with her, or after her, if she'd been planning the time travel rescue for a while. "And you gotta stay. What if the stove starts talking to me?" Steph used to stubbornly refuse help, insisting she could do things just fine despite her poor health, but now she didn't mind the extra hand.

"Well, what was hers is now yours. You're the same person, after all. So, her money should be your money, and I'm pretty sure you've got a good bit of it." A lot of it, more like. "Sure, whenever you want. Just not tonight."

Bucky was watching her, staring at her almost. But at least he had a soft smile on his face as he watched her. How could he not, though? How long had it been since he had seen Steph, small and smiling at him like this? "I haven't heard it talk since I got here, at least. But your washing machine plays a stupid fucking song every time it finishes. I need to track down your manual or something so I can figure out how to cut it out."

There were still several things about their present time that Bucky would have to figure out, but at least he could look a lot of it up on the Google. Otherwise, seemed like he and Steph would just have to figure those things out together.

"What's a washing machine?" Clearly it washed something but what, exactly? A little giggle also escaped her then because he was very cute with his grumbling. Sometimes she annoyed him just to get a rise out of him; there was just something so endearing about it.

But, yeah, she didn't mean they were going out tonight or anything. Just that if she had money to burn, she would love to use it to spend time with him. Though that made her frown after a moment. "How's that gonna work? Are people gonna expect me to do the... avenging stuff?" She wasn't Captain America material. Did she have to like, undergo surgery for it? Would she have to spend the rest of her life in the shadow of her future self? That didn't sound very appealing, even if she was still the same woman who would fight bullies in an alley.

Bucky's smile widened slightly. Steph's laugh had always been like a balm to him. "It washes your clothes for you. There's also a dryer that dries them, and a dishwasher that washes most dishes. Unless they're the kind of plastic that melts easy, which most aren't." Bucky had learned that the hard way.

"Nah, I'm pretty sure they'll see you're not her on the outside," Bucky chuckled a bit then. "She didn't change much on the inside after the serum, by the way. That's why you got picked, that idiot wants-to-do-good heart of yours. But I'm pretty sure she was laying the foundation to retire anyway."

Pausing, he shrugged a bit and thought of them going out. "We'll figure out the public thing. Worst case, we'll put a ball cap on your head, and no one will notice."

She laughed again while giving him a disbelieving look. "That works?" A ball cap for a disguise was ridiculous. But maybe, like art, it was a matter of perspective.

It was weird to have to think of herself as a public figure though. She'd never had that problem before. If anything, she thought being noticed was the issue, since the love of her life didn't seem to see she was right there.

She slowly got to her feet and, without hesitation, tugged at his metal hand with a grin. "Show me the washing machine. I wanna hear it sing." She wanted to see everything now, or at least the modern marvels in their apartment. It was theirs now, right?

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