dysmorphics | it's you and me up against the world, it's you and me

"I am, just—" Her back turned from him, Steph raked her hands through her hair. "Just gimme a minute, okay?"

She at least didn't go anywhere. She wanted to, now embarrassed by her breakdown — and how much she had liked being touched and held and sat on his lap; did he notice? — but he'd called for her and, as she'd asked him not to go, she had to stay. She just needed to calm down and gather her wits about her.

She also needed to stop thinking about how much she'd wanted to kiss up his neck to his mouth, and ask him to stay the night too.

Finally, she took off her coat again, went to fix herself up two plates and sat down across from him. No chocolate for her, that had been her last bar, but it was fine. "Sorry. I... I don't normally cry before dinner," she joked with a weak chuckle, hoping it would ease him. "Well, dig in? I hope you like it."

"Take your time." Bucky watched Steph out of the corner of his eye, not wanting to stare, but also worried at the same time, then felt some of his tension release when she pulled her coat back off. She wasn't trying to leave anymore, and that was good. But he still didn't even remotely settle until she was settling into the other chair with her own plates.

"It's fine, Steph," he told her, his voice soft. "I get it. Tonight's been... a lot." And that was a hell of an understatement, wasn't it?

Bucky finally took a bite of his stew then, and his eyes immediately went wide. "Holy shit," he said around his mouthful of food as he looked down at it. It didn't look any different from normal stews, but it sure tasted different. Then, once he finished his bite, he added, "Steph, this is amazing."

"Right? That was my reaction too." Steph's laugh was genuine this time. "You know they call the years we grew up in The Great Depression? And the war World War 2? Awful names, but that pretty much explains why our food's so bland."

Bucky's enjoyment was contagious, and she felt a bit lighter as she ate. She stood up for a moment again, but only to grab fresh glasses for their wine; just the regular ones though, since she never expected to ever host anyone. "Dernier said this is one of the good ones," she said as she looked at the label once more. "I know where to get some really potent alcohol in the future though. You can try some when we go."

She knew just how potent Asgardian booze was because she'd drunk herself blind after Bucky had been Snapped.

The sound of Steph laugh made Bucky look back over at her with a smile on his face. God, that had always been one of his favorite sounds.

But he took the glass of wine from her and took a sip, then set it down on the table. It was fine. It was wine, that was about all he could say about it. He didn't exactly have a fancy pallet when it came to wines and whatnot. Plus, it wasn't like alcohol had done anything for him in years anyway. "What, strong enough that I'd actually be able to feel it?" he asked, one brow raising. "Cause I haven't been so much as tipsy since '43."

It was probably a good thing he couldn't get drunk, though, because Bucky would have probably fallen deep into that after getting back to New York to find Steph missing.

Edited (NOTHING TO SEE HERE) 2026-01-08 13:27 (UTC)

"Oh yeah. Knocked me out cold many nights." Steph was smiling and about to shove another spoonful of food into her mouth, but her smile didn't reach her eyes. She wasn't proud of that time. She'd turned her back on the world, on her friends, when someone was desperately needed to lead the survivors on.

The despair she felt these days was even darker than back then, though. And she was getting really, really tired of fighting it.

"Want some more? I need another plate." In this era, at least, everything was cheaper. Her cash would last her a while yet despite her voracious appetite.

If it could knock out someone with a full dose of the serum, like Steph, then Bucky would have probably leaned heavily on it. Especially when he first got back.

Alright, not only when he first got back. But at least he had an idea of where his tiny Steph was at that point, so he probably wouldn't have leaned so heavily on it anymore. Or something. Maybe.

Either way, at Steph's question, Bucky shook his head. After all those years in what was, apparently, called the Great Depression, and the years at war, Bucky still wasn't entirely used to being able to stuff himself full of food. Plus, he knew that Steph needed more than he did with her abilities.

"I'm still working on this plate," he told her with a soft grin. "It's so good, though, Steph. What's different about it?"

"You know what? I don't think I'll tell you," Steph teased before disappearing into the kitchen to refill her plate. It was hardly the biggest secret in the world, but... okay, maybe she just wanted an excuse to invite Bucky over for dinner again.

She missed him so much, and she'd been incredibly lonely over the last couple of years. The first time she went to the front, she at least had a team, and more importantly she had Bucky; this time she'd been an outsider, operating on the fringes alone. It was cold and lonely in Europe and it was cold and lonely still when she returned to New York, and maybe she could have returned to 2023 like she'd never left... but she was a coward, like she had been in the past. In fact, this meeting only happened because this Bucky forced her hand.

She didn't realize she had zoned out and was staring forlornly at the pot of stew until Bucky calling her name jolted her out of her thoughts. "I'm okay. Just..." She decided not to finish that, moving to the sink to turn on the tap then turn it off again, just to pretend she was doing something.

Frowning, Bucky got up and followed Steph. Even if the woman hadn't been his best friend, if she hadn't been someone he'd known since they were kids, it would have been obvious that something was bothering her again. It seemed it didn't matter if she was bigger or smaller than him, or if she had made some really stupid decisions in the last couple of years, Bucky didn't like to see anything bothering her.

"Hey," he started, walking up and placing a hand on her back to get her attention, and maybe get her to stop turning the water on and off. She wasn't fooling anyone with that. "What's going on in that thick skull of yours?"

Steph sighed and set down her empty plate before resting her hands on the edge of the sink. She didn't say anything for a while, not really knowing where to start or what to even tell him, but sure that Bucky wouldn't leave her alone until she caved.

Eventually, she settled with, "You ever feel like you're just a walking corpse, or a ghost, and that maybe you died a long time ago?" He fought in the war, survived it this time around. Did he feel the numbness, the soul-crushing despair, when he returned to normal life in New York and found himself without the most important person in his life?

"I don't think I remember how it feels to be alive," she admitted quietly, still refusing to turn around and look at him.

Well that was a bit of a loaded question, wasn't it? He knew it wasn't intentionally so, but still. There was no good way to answer it.

So, Bucky sighed and hesitated for a few seconds before answering honestly. "That's how I feel every day, Steph." Sure, there were people around him who talked to him, but he didn't pay them as much attention as he would have three years earlier. Hell, he'd heard some of the people at the SSR talking about how they were pretty sure Sergeant Barnes didn't know what a joke was.

He never let on to them that he heard, but that comment alone went to show just how much he'd changed over the years. Bucky was sure he'd smiled more since meeting up with Steph that afternoon than he had in a long, long time, and he hadn't even spent much of their evening smiling.

Steph finally turned to meet Bucky's eyes, her expression sad and resigned. "Me too. Since the day you fell off that train."

She could still remember the moment in vivid detail: Bucky hanging from a rail on the side of the train car, Steph straining to reach him. "Grab my hand," she begged—

Maybe that was the moment she died.

"And now you're here, and I... I feel things." She hung her head and, very quietly, said, "I miss you. I love you. And it's not fair to you."

Edited (word choice) 2026-01-08 17:39 (UTC)

Bucky sighed, and shook his head before turning Steph so she was fully facing him. "Listen to me," he said, reaching up to put a hand on her cheek. "Nothing's been fair to me since my birthday got pulled in that draft. And unless you went and rigged that, that's not your fault. Alright?"

Okay, sure, there was a lot going on in his life that Steph caused, at least for this version of him. But she sure as shit didn't cause all of it. Really, it sounded like he was absolutely fucked no matter what happened.

Maybe a good life just wasn't in the cards for him.

He didn't leave his hand on her cheek much longer, though. Instead, he pulled her into another tight hug. "I miss you, too, Steph. And I love you, too." She had to understand that by now, right?

"All I had to do was grab you and hold on," Steph said in despair. Peggy had been able to do it. Why hadn't she? "Then it was one last fight, and we'd have been home free." The plane didn't have to crash with anyone in it. Peggy hadn't. Howard fished her out of the ocean just fine — though perhaps with a little tip from a mysterious ally who happened to have just the right coordinates.

But with their luck, would they really have been home free? When Fury pulled her back into SHIELD there was always some insinuation that she was technically government property and therefore she could be deployed whenever and wherever she was needed. If she hadn't crashed in '45, where else would they have sent her? Korea? Cuba? Vietnam? Iraq and Afghanistan and Ukraine? There had been so many wars. Really, it sounded like she was absolutely fucked no matter what happened.

Maybe a good life just wasn't in the cards for her.

Did Bucky expect resistance? Or did he know Steph would, once more, deflate in his arms as if she didn't have the strength to carry him?

Then she started to sob. But not for the reason he might think, not really. "I gotta take you to her now," she said, and she'd never sounded so sad, so regretful, so defeated. "I gotta, before I do somethin' stupid and ask you to stay with me instead."

"C'mere," Bucky said with a sigh, then led Steph over to her small couch. He sat down, then tugged her down beside him, but turned so he could still wrap his arms around her.

Eyes sliding closed, he let his head rest against hers as he held her. "Why would she even want to come back?" he asked, his own voice quiet and resigned. "There she's apparently got better food, better tech. You already told me there were treatments for most of her ailments, if not all of them. And it's not like she's on her own." If nothing else, even though he'd never lived most of the other Bucky's life, he couldn't picture a world where he wouldn't jump to help her. Plus, those photos sure made it look like Steph had a lot of friends. "She's... probably better off."

"Because she loves you."

There was doubt in Steph's voice though. But it wasn't the love she doubted, no. She just came to the realization that, as this Bucky had said, there probably wasn't a single timeline in which they didn't love each other. She loved and would love him no matter what, and no matter who and when he was. So would that version of Steph, and she wasn't broken, just young and insecure. She would be good for that version of Bucky. They would find a true second chance in each other, not broken pieces to put back together, as he would with her. He would probably be better off, too.

Steph sighed softly and hugged Bucky just a little tighter. "You would let her go." It wasn't even a question.

Maybe they were more alike than he thought. Maybe he would understand why she did what she did, even if he must first hate her for it.

Bucky hesitated for a moment, thinking through his words, then released a breath and nodded. "If she wanted to stay there, yeah," he told her. "And if he's even a little like me, he'll watch out for her at the very least."

Sniffling, Bucky's arms tightened around Steph in return. "I've only ever wanted to make her happy." He knew making her healthy was beyond him, but he'd at least thought he could have made her happy. But maybe... maybe in the future she could be both?

"I wanna go with you when you go back. So I can ask her. Or at least tell her goodbye."

I've only ever wanted to make her happy. Steph had had her heart break a few times, but this time it felt physically painful, like her lungs had collapsed and she couldn't breathe, or when the Soldier was crushing her throat with those cold, metal fingers. That Bucky had given up, because of what she had done, was something to add to the list of sins she could never forgive herself for.

"We can catch up with her. Before she meets anyone and sees what the future is like. Whenever you're ready." She knew that was possible on principle, though without Bruce and his machine, could they make a jump that accurate? Her suit had been programmed with the return coordinates, both in terms of location and time, but now all she had was a date and an approximation of the hour.

Could she use the Time Stone instead? They'd thought only Strange could, because it had been in the custody of the sorcerers, but Thanos had used it without a problem. But she'd only seen it reverse what happened minutes ago, when Thanos brought Vision back only to kill him again. What if they couldn't cross the streams? Would they have to grab his Steph before yet another version of her from the future arrived to make the switch? Fuck, time travel made her head hurt.

She had to fix this. Bucky never cried, and it hurt far worse than she had ever been prepared for.

Bucky didn't want to keep harping on the fact that it should be her choice, so he didn't respond to that. Not then, at least.

Instead, he just continued to hold onto his best friend, almost like she was holding him up as much as he was holding her up, even though they were sitting on her couch. "Tell me something good that's gonna happen in the future?" he half asked, half told her. "Anything. Even if it's just something dumb, like some kind of radio program you like."

Bucky needed some sort of distraction, so he thought maybe something like that would do the trick. At least for a few minutes.

Steph took a moment to recall the times she'd thought Bucky would've loved this. "We've sent people to the moon," she chose, if only because she remembered watching preserved footages of the broadcast of the Apollo 11 mission and how she'd imagined what it would've been like had they lived to see it. They would've been in their early 50s, camped in front of the TV and waiting for updates.

She closed her eyes, recounting the future's marvels like a prayer. "There's a cinema on the Upper West Side with a massive screen, it feels like you're part of the film. There's so much color in movies now, and so much variety in animation. Tolkien published a sequel to The Hobbit and they made a trilogy of films out of it."

I've only ever wanted to make her happy, she continued to hear in his voice in the back of her head anyway, and she wanted to tell him that he did, that he was the only reason she wasn't trying to kill herself right now, but she fucked things up so badly already. So she just held on to him and, finishing her litany, very quietly said, "You came back, and you remembered me."

While Steph listed various good things--all of which did sound particularly amazing to Bucky--he shifted so it was his forehead resting against her shoulder. He was about to tell her how great that all sounded, but that went out the window with the final item on her list.

Brow furrowed, he pulled back just far enough so he could look at her. "Of course I remembered you, Steph," he started, looking at her seriously. She had already mentioned how the Bucky in her time had his memory played around with, so he knew what she was getting at. But the idea of forgetting her entirely was just insane to him. "Without completely replacing my brain, there's no way anyone would be able to fully erase my memories of you."

Steph looked at Bucky sadly, touching his cheek with her fingertips. "Buck, when I had you looked at in Wakanda, they said your brain..." She shuddered. "HYDRA wiped your memory every time they activated you, and who knew what else, to turn you into the perfect weapon. They captured you in '45. You didn't start breaking out of their control until they sent you after me in... 2014." She hoped he had been in cryo for most of those decades, but even then, one wipe was far too many. Most people got into an accident one time and their brain was damaged forever.

She still didn't expect this Bucky to forgive her for fucking up his life, but she at least wanted him to understand why she had to try. It wasn't just because he fell off a train, though that was the beginning of every awful thing that had happened to him since.

She closed her eyes and leaned in to rest her forehead against his. In the silence that followed, somehow she found the courage to confess, "You make me happy. You always have. You've made me happy today, even if you probably hate me right now. After the ferris wheel, I was gonna..." She hesitated again, shaking her head almost imperceptibly, then simply said, "Thank you for tonight. I'm sorry I couldn't make you happy in the same way."

Bucky couldn't resist leaning his head into Steph's touch as he looked at him, his own eyes turning to watch her as well. "So, what, sixty-nine years of them wiping my mind over and over," he began, raising a brow at her. "And then they put you in front of me and all that went out the window?" Bucky figured there was probably more to it than that, but so far that sounded like the broad strokes. "Doesn't that just prove my point even more? I can't forget you."

And that was without Bucky knowing that he had forgotten his own name, but he knew he knew her.

But his frown came back at the other things she said. "Hey, I don't hate you. Kinda pissed at you, sure. Kinda think you're a dumbass. But I don't hate you. And it's not like I've never been mad at you before." Sighing, Bucky brought his own hand up to brush some of Steph's hair out of her face. "I got answers, and I'm pretty sure that means more than you realize." If nothing else, he knew he could stop his search. Steph was alive, just like he always knew she was, but he just couldn't reach her on his own. "She's probably better off where she is now, anyway."

"Besides. You might not have been the Steph I was looking for, but I still got to spend tonight with you. And that... is definitely more important to me than you realize."

"That's not—" Steph huffed in exasperation. "My point was, he had brain damage, dumbass. On top of... everything else." The torture, the experiments, whatever else HYDRA did to him. "And then, just when he was getting better, he went and died on me. Is it really so bad I don't want that happening to you?"

But Bucky must have understood, because he said he didn't hate her. Tears of relief welled in her eyes then, which he had to have seen since he'd brushed her hair out of her face. She wouldn't have known what to do if he ended up hating her. And if he didn't hate her, then the other version of him didn't, too. She just had to talk to him, explain everything, and apologize properly. Her hasty note must've made him so mad.

"You won't know for sure until you talk to her." Better off, probably. At least in terms of medical care and way of life. She had left all that she had with Bucky, including her apartment and her bank account. The both of them should want for nothing for a couple of years at least.

She should take this Bucky to see his Steph, just get it over and done with. But why was she dragging her feet? It sure as hell wasn't because she was unsure of the method. "We could go right now or tomorrow, it's not gonna matter. Time's funny like that."

"It might not be your point, but you haven't said anything to make me think I'm wrong," Bucky teased her just a little. He couldn't help it. Teasing Steph Rogers was just second nature to him--as easy as breathing.

Bucky did notice the tears in her eyes, though, and in response pressed a kiss to her forehead before pulling her in for another warm hug. "I don't know about you, but I think I need to get some sleep before I try to time travel," he told her simply. "I don't want to be too tired to appreciate things."

He probably would be anyway. Bucky rarely slept well any more, and he was always tired. But he'd like to at least try.

"Shut up," Steph pretended to grumble, but she couldn't hide her smile, not even from her voice, and this time it reached her eyes. How easy it was, when Bucky was around. Fuck, she missed him so much.

So much that when he hugged her again and pressed his lips to her forehead, she didn't pull away. Instead she held him a little closer, her body already asking before her words could even form the question. "Will you stay?"

Her apartment wasn't the best place for rest, she knew. It was cold and cramped. The floorboards creaked, the water in the shower barely warmed up. Her bed was nothing more than a large sleeping bag, and the couch was small. But she didn't want him to leave. She wanted to stay nestled in his arms like this, and hoped that he did, too.

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at least it wasn't the smut tag 😂

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