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

"I would love it if you did." Steph had already fucked things up between them so badly, the least she could do was be honest. "Lemme just clean up the place a bit while you finish dinner, okay?" She couldn't do anything about her awful lodgings, but she could at least tidy up.

Not that she was in any real hurry to pull away from him. He had to finish dinner though. What little of Zola's serum was in his system seemed to be keeping him functioning, but she could tell that he hadn't been eating well in a while. That was going to change now that she was around.

"You never finished eating either, did you?" Bucky asked as he pulled back to look her over. "You said you were going to get another plate, but then you never did." Instead, Bucky found her crying at the sink, and they'd both gotten thoroughly distracted after that.

If she was going to make him eat, he could do the same for her, dammit.

He stood from where they were seated together on the couch and led her back to the kitchen. "If I have to finish eating, so do you."

"Fine." There was no real resistance from Steph though, only regret that they had to get up at all. So she let herself be led back to the kitchen, where Bucky watched her pointedly while she refilled her plate; it was almost exactly like those times she wasn't feeling well and he'd give her some tough love to get her ass to stay still and eat something. It was working.

There was a bit of a standoff when they were both seated again. He refused to eat until she did, so she relented with a huff and shoved a spoonful of potatoes and stew into her mouth. Shit, she actually was starving. Or was she finally just relaxing after being wound up and emotional the whole time?

"How's Becca?" she asked, breaking the silence. She'd been good friends with his sister too, but the most she'd seen of Becca since she'd come back to the past was when she'd tracked down where the other woman now lived. "And your folks?"

"Folks are the same as always," Bucky said with a shrug between (delicious) bites. "They don't change. But if I don't show up on Sundays they send Becca to track me down." There had even been several Monday mornings where Becca threw a big enough of a stink in the SSR lobby that she was allowed to actually enter the offices now, and there weren't many people allowed back there.

"She's good though. Working, and likes her job." Bucky thought working suited her, and whoever she picked to settle down with better understand that.

"The last time I saw Becca," Steph said, referring to the Becca of her timeline, "she was old. Had kids, grandkids. She kept harping if you asked me, but I had no clue what she meant and just said yes so I wouldn't upset her. She was so happy." She poked at her food with her fork. Guess she knew now what he had been supposed to ask her.

"She also kept some of our pictures. Apparently she broke into my apartment after getting the news of my death and cleaned out as much of my stuff as she could, since she guessed the government might take them." She grabbed the phone and pulled up the photo of her and Becca, old and senile, in the hospital.

Bucky took Steph's phone to look at the picture, a soft, sad smile on his face. This was, apparently, a Becca that had to live with his supposed "death," but Steph showed up, and his annoying little sister was still asking if he ever made a move.

"She, uh, pretty much did the same thing after this Steph disappeared," he told Steph as he passed the phone back to her. "But instead of hanging onto your stuff, I've got it now. I got it from her after I got home." Because of course he did. Why wouldn't Bucky take custody of Steph's things?

And most of it was sitting out in his apartment, in places he thought Steph would have put it, like the properly delusional man he was.

That explained the handkerchief. Though Steph wouldn't have been surprised if she'd forgotten it at Bucky's place or he'd borrowed it and never returned it or something like that. They were best of friends, after all, and they used to do so much together.

Another spell of silence took hold. Idle conversation used to come so easy for them, but that was before the war and everything else had changed them. Anyway, she did her best to pretend it didn't bother her and continue eating.

She had to say something eventually though, and somehow she ended up telling him, of all things, "You look good. I mean, in that. Your face looks like shit and you need sleep, but I haven't seen you all cleaned up in a while." It was a compliment! She wouldn't be blushing if it wasn't.

Bucky blinked at that for a moment, then couldn't help laughing. "Steph, I only saw the one picture of the guy, but if you think I look cleaned up like this, then the future Bucky musta looked like a legitimate hobo."

Sure, his hair was short and brushed, but Bucky often skipped shaving, and his clothes were usually rumpled. He was aware that he didn't take care of himself the way he should, or the way he used to before he shipped out.

He also had this issue where he made plenty of money, but he didn't eat as much as he knew he should. Or sleep enough. Any of that.

"Hey, that's not—" Then Steph was laughing too, if only because Bucky's laughter was contagious. "That's mean, especially coming from you. I just meant this fashion never really made a comeback," she said with a broad gesture toward what he was wearing, "except for formal occasions. Galas and press conferences and things. So I've only ever seen him in body armor and t-shirts and jackets since."

Having turned red all the way to her hairline in embarrassment, she ducked her head and poked at her last bit of stew self-consciously. "You look good in anything though." And probably in nothing, but she wasn't about to say that out loud.

Even when Bucky's laughter faded, the grin stayed on his face. He really did miss the sound of Steph's laughter, and hearing it almost felt like a little something inside him healed, at least for the time being. So, for the moment, he was content to watch her with a grin on his face. "Ma would kill me if I just walked around in t-shirts at my age," he told her. "And I already get earfuls about plenty of other shit without that. Even if it does sound more comfortable."

His least favorite thing to get an earful about was meeting a nice girl. Bucky didn't want that, dammit. At least Becca usually ran interference most of the time when that topic came up.

"You look good, too, you know," Bucky said simply before shoving the last bite of his dinner into his mouth. Then he waited until he was standing up with his plate and heading towards the sink to rinse it off before adding. "I always thought you looked good, though."

"People don't care as much in the future." Steph glanced down at her own clothes. "I wear these for my morning runs. They're very comfy."

Which was where she thought Bucky's compliment was coming from. These yoga pants were very flattering to her ass, and while she hated the attention people gave to her appearance, she did like how comfortable sportswear had become. Wearing shorts would probably be worse; she just might as well run in a bikini.

So she was surprised when he said he always thought she looked good. Laughing in disbelief, she reminded him, "I was all elbows and knees, Buck. Sharp edges and no curves." She frowned after a moment and looked down at her body again. "I dunno if Pegs feels the same, but maybe not, she was healthy in my timeline. But I... it's weird, Buck. Being in this body. I don't... I don't feel like myself. Instead I feel like I'm only wearing it and it doesn't even fit."

Then she shrugged and stood to rinse her plate. "You know what they made me do after they shot me up with the serum? The goddamn USO shows." She knew it was different here, that Peggy never had to be Lady Liberty. "It wasn't until after we took out that HYDRA factory that they made me part of the Army, and only because they had no choice. The soldiers talked. 'America's favorite pin up girl saves the day' was too good an opportunity to pass up."

"I'm well aware of what you looked like before, Steph," Bucky said with a roll of his eyes as he turned on the hot water tap to start warming up so he could wash their dishes, then stepped back to the stove to test the temperature of the food still sitting on the stove. If nothing else, he knew he wasn't supposed to put it in the fridge when it was still hot--it'd warm everything else in there up. "Not only do I just remember what you looked like, but I also have all your photos at my place."

Shrugging, he decided the food was still too hot and moved back to the sink. "I liked your sharp edges, though. They matched that sharp tongue of yours." The rest of what she said was on the more serious side of things, so he turned the water back off and turned to her, frowning.

"Hey," he started, looking at her seriously as he reached up to place a hand on the side of her head. "I know it doesn't fix anything for you, but I still knew exactly who you were as soon as you said, 'Hey, Buck' on that ferris wheel, didn't I? All the important parts of you are still there. Doesn't matter what the outside looks like, you're still you."

But he was Bucky, and she was Steph, so he had to tease her a little. "I do wish I got to see you as a USO girl though. You woulda definitely been my favorite of the bunch."

Bucky's openness continued to surprise Steph. Sure, they told each other things all the time — what sort of friends were they otherwise? — but this open affection was new. Or had it always been there and she just hadn't noticed?

She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes. Dammit, if he kept doing this, their situation might... escalate. She'd already asked if he would stay, after all.

"You're the only one who's really seen me since." For all she pouted about his teasing, he had been right; for all that HYDRA fucked up his head in Steph's world, he still couldn't forget her. Most else knew of her and already had some opinion or perceived image of her when they met, one that would never really go away even as they later got to know each other better.

Do you see me now? she ached to ask, but was also afraid to. Did she really want him to see how badly she wanted him, how she wished to fill the void inside of her with him — even if it was wrong, even if she did not deserve it? So she was glad for the teasing, which allowed her to deflect her own dangerously building desires.

"Stick around and I might just show you," she teased back, entirely aware there were two ways they could go about that and how she could give him either of it.

God, Bucky had missed Steph. Not only since getting home to New York, but also for the two years he spent in Europe before that. Up until Bucky's weeks in boot camp, and then when he later shipped out to Europe, the man had rarely gone more than a day or two without seeing his best friend, and then suddenly it had been years since he'd last been near her.

It was really no surprise that Bucky was borderline touch-starved when it came to her. Not that a man from the 40s would know terms like "touch-starved," but still.

"I wish you didn't wait so long before letting me see you," he said, voice soft as he let his thumb drift across her cheekbone. Sure, he'd seen flashes of her here and there as he searched for the Winter Soldier, some glimpses of a woman saving his ass in the war more than once. But it wasn't the same.

But that last comment made him laugh a little. "What, you bring the outfit with you?"

[ ooc: i suspect bucky was always a LITTLE open with his affection with her before the war, but he tried to keep it to things that could be passed off as friend touches ]

"I thought you'd be happier without me," Steph said regretfully, her eyes sliding closed as she echoed one of the very first things she told him when they finally came face to face. "And I'm not the one you want. I'm not her."

She didn't want to move, afraid to break whatever this was that was unfolding between them. Maybe it was nothing. She did fuck up his life and ruin his chances of having a future with his Steph. But even if this was entirely platonic, she still wanted it. She just wanted to feel something again.

"No," she answered with a soft laugh, "but I can get us tickets." To a show in 1943. If they were going to travel through time anyway they might as well do a little sightseeing. Maybe it'll cheer him up some.

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

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guess who has spotty plane wifi but can't open discord

hey, feel free to just pm me or whatever if you want/need to lol. THERE ARE WAYS.

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